The Man with the Book; or, The Bible Among the People

In reply to the question, "What have you done with the dresses?" she replied, "'Eld 'em up 'ere, and a woman gave me ninepence for the silk un, and two shillings for the t'other; and I've bin in and bought these 'ere pretty clothes; and I've had lots of fish and taters and beer, and was a-goin' to the gaff."

This statement was made in such a disingenuous manner that it seemed evident that the poor child, like the heathen, had no moral sense. As it was useless to try and trace the dresses, it only remained to march her off to the Refuge, where, out of consideration to her friend, she was at once received. We may add, that she did well in the Institution for several years, and that she became a good general servant.

This girl was one of seventeen outcasts whom the keeper of "Teddie's Den" brought to the Missionary, all of whom were rescued; but though a "helper" in the good work, he did not obtain spiritual good himself. At times he seemed to tremble when passages concerning judgment and mercy were read from the Book; and he treated the Reader with respect,—but that was all. The dreadful influence of his business and the love of liquor quickly removed all good impressions, and he continued to do evil: "He saw the better, yet the worse pursued." Bad as he was, he at times showed a kindness of disposition quite out of keeping with his appearance and character; for instance, when he heard that his friend was ill, he went to Covent Garden Market, and, of all things there, bought a pomegranate, and left it at his house. A few nights after this he was in liquor, wandered from his door, and leaning against an area gate which was unfastened, fell back upon the stone steps. He fractured his skull, remained unconscious for some hours, and died in that state. The grief of the Missionary was great; he had diligently sought the salvation of the man, and he, therefore, felt crushed beneath the discouragement. The evangelist has his trials and heart-sorrows, his disappointments are frequent and painful, though not so often referred to as they perhaps ought to be. It is a fearful thing when the words he utters become "the savour of death unto death;" but he has no choice in this matter, as the order of the great Master is: "Thou shalt go to all that I shall send thee; and whatsoever I command thee, that thou shalt speak."

The "missus," for no one seemed to know her name, succeeded to the full control of the den, and it soon became evident that she was hardened rather than softened by the wretched end of her husband. She expressed a positive dislike to the man whose faithfulness was no doubt a difficulty to her, and she hindered his efforts to do good.

"The master was a fool," she observed, a few weeks after his death, "to bring you back here, as it's ruination. After you left the t'other night the people was all glum; and now gents as has lots of money to stand treats doesn't come, as they are affeard of meeting you; and I have got a man a-coming to help as will turn anybody out, and you shan't come."

This was no doubt her determination, but the Missionary had obtained such power with the supporters of the place, that they would have defended him from insult, certainly from violence. All knew him as one able to rescue them, and as the only one who sought their spiritual good. Bad therefore as they were, they felt that the friend of the soul was their best friend, and they treated him as such. All then that the "missus" could do was to keep him at times out of the back room.

A change, however, passed over the place as the class of customers gradually altered. The depraved became fewer in number, while the skilled criminal class increased. Magsmen and well-dressed pickpockets were more frequently to be seen there, while the thieves, among themselves, spoke of the woman as a good "fence" (i.e., a person who stands between the thieves and receivers, and renders detection more difficult). The following incident will show the class of customers:—

One night a Clergyman, who is now a dignitary of the Church, visited there with the Missionary. The shop was unusually full of youths and men of the criminal class, but in the farther corner sat a party of three persons who appeared to be separated from the rest of the company,—a man, woman, and little girl of twelve years. They were leaning forward as if asleep, but were aroused by the laughter produced by the pleasant remark the Missionary made concerning "the wisdom of the owls of night."

"What are you doing here with that child?" inquired the Clergyman.

"Please, sir," replied the woman, "we has been very unlucky, cos as how my husband has been ill, and all our sticks was took for the bit of rent, and we begged sixpence, and has had some tea and is stayin' here till it's light; and if my old man doesn't get work to-morrow we shall go next day to the Union over Battersea."

"You had better go there at once," he replied; "but don't expose the child to the night air. If you will promise me to save enough for a lodging, should you be out to-morrow night, I will give you half-a-crown."

The promise was made and the money given, though the quick eye of the experienced visitor saw by the glances interchanged between the company that deceit was being practised. The money was not, however lost, as that congregation of the ungodly listened with deep feeling to the clear, loving utterances of Divine truth which fell from the lips of that good minister of Christ Jesus.

Next evening the Missionary called in and inquired of the "missus" what was done with the half-a-crown.

"We had a bottle of gin with it," she replied, "but some of the fools wouldn't have any and went out, and said it was a shame to cheat such a good Missionary-man as him was that gived it."

"Now tell me," he continued, "who that man, woman, and child were? I am certain that they are not vagrants."

"I should think not," the woman replied laughing: "why they are smashers (i.e., makers of counterfeit money), and they sends the girl in first, who has bags of bad money under her frock, and one of 'em comes in, and if it's all serene the t'other comes, and then they does business. When you com'd to the door I tipped 'em the wink, affore opening it, as they was then a-sellin' to them chaps. One was a buying six-pennorth of shillings, and another a shilling's worth of half-crowns, according to quality, as the saying is."

Some further conversation followed, when the woman had occasion to leave the room for a few minutes, the visitor turned to the daughter and said:

"I am glad at what you told me a few weeks ago, that you were always praying to God to make you His child and to keep you from the evil to which you are exposed. Now tell me if you have decided to serve the Lord?"

"That I have, sir," she replied, her eyes filling with tears. "Mother won't let me out of her sight; but for two Sundays I have been to the chapel down the mews, where I understand everything, and keep on praying; and the gent spoke so beautiful last night that I want to serve Jesus altogether."

She was encouraged in the wise choice she had made, and the friend left, rejoicing that her heart, like Lydia's, had been opened to receive the truth.

The coiners were not met with again; but quite a year after, the governor of Norwich Castle, at the suggestion of a magistrate who assisted him in many works of mercy, wrote, asking the help of the Missionary in finding a home for a girl who, with her parents, had been apprehended for passing base money. It appeared that they left the girl in the distance, and each taking a piece of bad money passed it upon shopkeepers. They were stopped several times, but as a second piece could not be found upon them they were not detained. They were traced from London to Norwich, by the bad money they had passed, and were apprehended at a lodging-house, with the bags in their possession. The parents were sentenced to nine months' hard labour each, and the girl detained until a home could be found for her. This was done, and she was passed up to London. She was some time in the home, and then absconded; but several years after she called upon the matron, and invited her to come and see her husband, as she was comfortably married.

Several years passed, during which time "Teddie's Den" was visited with varying success, until the night upon which the International Exhibition was closed. The Missionary had arranged a tea in the building for a thousand persons, and returned home very weary, to find a thief in the house,—for there in the hall sat a man who had been frequently convicted. He, with evident feeling, said, "The 'missus,' sir, has bin bad all the week, and she's wery bad now, and is a mumbling your name; and the doctor has bin agin, and says as you ought to be sent for, so I has come." He was told to fetch a cab; but it was midnight before they arrived at the night-house.

An anxious group of depraved persons were standing at the door, but the visitor passed them in silence and entered the back room. The scene which presented itself was solemn indeed, for there, dressed, upon her couch, in the pains of dissolution, lay the woman who used to boast that she had kept dens for twenty-one years, and had not slept at night during that time. She appeared to be dying, but rallied when she heard the voice of her friend, and whispered, "Mercy! mercy!—Pray, pray!"

"I tell you again, that as a guilty sinner, you must pray for yourself," he replied, in a slow, quiet, tone. "The blood of Jesus can save you now: ask God in His name to pardon you." And then the dying woman, after him, repeated short prayers. After a pause he took her cold hand in his, and kneeling down, implored pardon for her from the God of all grace. His voice was, however, stopped by the sobbing of several women and young thieves who had entered from the shop. The death-expression upon the face of their old acquaintance in guilt, with the solemn attitude and words of prayer, overcame them, and they seemed to kneel as in contrition before their offended Maker.

There were intervals of consciousness, during which words of hope were read from the Book of Life; and at her request, expressed by movements of her hands, prayer was again offered. She soon became unconscious, and expired at three o'clock.

A few comforting words were spoken to the weeping daughter and the women who remained in the room; and the night-visitor then passed into the street. A large crowd of the criminal and depraved had assembled from other night-houses, and as he left they made a passage for him to pass through, while the two policemen turned on their bull's eyes to light him on his way. He, however, stepped back, and standing upon the threshold of the den, held out his Bible, and said, "She is dead, and her eternal state is fixed: you, however, are upon the side of the grave where mercy can be sought and found. Look up, now, to where the Saviour is seated, at God's right hand, beyond those dark clouds. Be in earnest in seeking salvation, and then live for the hour of death and the day of judgment." He then passed down the street in silence, not a word reached his ear from that gathering of the wicked.

The wretched inheritance descended to the daughter, now a young woman of twenty. Before her mother's illness she had suffered persecution from her, because she boldly confessed faith in Christ. Another cause of offence was her receiving tracts and placing them upon the tables before the customers were admitted. She, however, showed such dutiful affection to her mother, that it no doubt softened her hard heart, and caused her to show a better feeling towards the unwelcome visitor. A few evenings after the funeral she called upon her friend, and upon entering the room burst into tears, and said, "I can't, sir, keep the dreadful place open, for I am always praying, and the language and sin is awful: I will beg my bread first. What shall I do?"

She was soothed, and a quiet conversation took place between them concerning her position. After conferring with his wife, he said, "You are painfully circumstanced,—no one would receive you into their service if they knew that you had been brought up in such a place. We, however, will do what others could not, as I am assured that the Lord has dealt mercifully by you. We need a servant, and will take you into our house." She, with expressions of gratitude, accepted the offer; so he wrote notes to the landlord of the house, and to a broker, and sent her with them.

Next evening the Missionary paid his last visit to "Teddie's Den." A hand-cart was at the door, and the broker inside. The furniture, crockery, and fixtures were quickly sold and removed, and then the night visitor and its late mistress left. It was with a joyous, thankful heart, that he closed the door behind them, for he felt that a stronghold of sin and Satan had fallen before the silvery notes of the Gospel of peace.

The young woman did well in her place, and gave evidence of a renewed nature. After a few months, her master and mistress were so well pleased with her, that they recommended her into a reformatory institution as under matron. For two years she filled the office with credit to herself, and to the spiritual benefit of many of the inmates, including one who used to frequent her parents' den. This woman had for years been the companion of thieves, and had by vice so injured her health as to suffer long illness in the London Hospital. Upon her discharge she was sent to the Institution, and great was her astonishment to find the young woman who, when a girl, waited upon her at night, an under-matron in the home of Mercy. From her she gladly received the good news of Jesus receiving sinners, and was led to call upon His name, and then to rejoice in His mercy.

One evening the young assistant called upon her friend, and said timidly, "You know Mr. So-and-so, don't you, sir?"

"I do," was the reply; "and think well of him."

"You have been more than a father to me, sir; and will you please give me away?"

The office was cheerfully undertaken, and readily fulfilled. After the marriage, the Missionary friend and father handed her a Bible, with this writing in it: "Heirs together of the grace of life." The union is a happy one, and she is a living proof that sovereign grace can raise its subjects from the lowest depths, and place them among the princes of the children of light.

The Book in the Streets and Night-Houses:

ITS SILENT FORCE.

 
"Sow in the wild waste places,
Though none thy love may own;
God guides the down of the thistle
The wandering wind hath sown.
Will Jesus chide thy weakness,
Or call thy labour vain?
The word that for Him thou bearest
Shall return to Him again.
Sow with thine heart in heaven,
Thy strength thy Master's might,
Till the wild waste places blossom
In the warmth of a Saviour's light."
 

Anna Shipton.

CHAPTER XI

A GILDED SALOON—A PIGEON PLUCKER—DISCOURAGEMENT—THE COFFEE MAN—DESTITUTE—THE SOLITUDE OF THE CITY—MADNESS OF DISGRACE—THE BEGGAR AND HIS BOY—THE "TRAVELLER'S REST"—THE SLEEPLESS CHURCH—COFFEE STALLS AND BOOTHS—THE COVERT FROM THE STORM—BIBLE POWER.

The Book in the Streets and Night-Houses:

ITS SILENT FORCE

"The seed is the Word of God." Luke viii. 11.

TWO hundred and sixty nights occupied in evangelizing efforts in the streets, refreshment houses, and dens of the mighty city, gave evidence that the Word of God is powerful to arrest the attention of the most thoughtless—to stop the guilty in their downward career; and that it is the power of God unto the salvation of sinners who are sunk so low as to cause them, when restored, to stand out before men as miracles of mercy. Disappointments were frequent, and if continuance in the work had depended upon known success, would have been crushing. This however was not so: the great Master does not send out His servants at their own cost. When He, of His sovereign grace, takes a sinner and places him among His children, and then by distinguishing favour makes him a wheel or a lever in His great machinery of mercy, He only requires faithfulness—not success. Men can only fill the office of subordinate instruments and visible agents in the mighty process of salvation. "God was in Christ Jesus reconciling the world unto Himself," but "He has committed to us the ministry of reconciliation." This truth ought to remove indolence and avarice from those who are named by the name of Christ. The redeemed people who realize the debt they owe unto their Lord, should covet to be the deputies and agents of Divine love; such should labour and study, and pray for success, because the Holy Spirit works by instruments made fit for His use, and the armed omnipotence of God is engaged on behalf of repentant sinners. The great restoring work is of God, and of God only; and it is therefore the duty of His servants to labour as cheerfully when denied, as when favoured with evidence of blessing.

These thoughts were suggested when materials for this chapter were being collected. The mind reverted to so many instances of failure,—to a succession of men and women who had been the objects of much earnest effort, but who had passed from under the influence of the Missionary without giving the remotest hope of their salvation. If a proportion of them were referred to, this would be a dismal record. We will only therefore, by way of illustrating the nature of the work, refer to one instance.

A Cabinet Minister had conferred with the Missionary upon the matter of legislation for night-houses; and as other interviews were sure to follow, he thought it well to visit all such places of which the police could give him information.

One night he followed several fashionably dressed gentlemen into a house near the Haymarket, and found himself in a gilded saloon, with billiard rooms upstairs. The gentlemen remained together, and as the visitor felt strange, he went to the upper end and threw himself upon a couch; he was meditating as to what he could do there, when a middle-aged gentleman entered and gave a familiar nod to the group, and then glancing keenly toward the stranger, approached and took his seat at the other end of the couch. After a little thought, an envelope containing a tract was handed to him. He gave a sudden start, and the Missionary in a merry tone, exclaimed "It's not a writ;" and then both laughed heartily. The attention of the proprietor and his waiter in full dress, had from his entering in, been fixed upon the stranger; he therefore thought it well to make friends with the gentleman, and pressing near to him, he said, in a confidential half-whisper: "Oblige me by not opening the envelope now, as it only contains a religious tract." As he looked at it with astonishment, the giver continued: "You no doubt think it absurd, quixotic of me to venture in here with tracts, but you will respect my motive when I tell you that I have for years visited the lower class of night-houses, and conferred benefits upon many; and that I am the voice of one crying in the night season, 'Behold the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world.'"

"A motive so good, justifies the act," replied the gentleman. "I am going over to the Turkish saloon, and will pass out with you."

In the street they fell into a pleasant chat, and an appointment was made for another night; this was kept, and followed by several others, besides chance meetings. From his friends he ascertained that the gentleman was supposed to be of good family, that he had graduated at Oxford, and that he bore the assumed name of Clifford. He was a most fascinating person, though his countenance had a dissipated and at times malicious expression. He had a large acquaintance among young men of position, who at that time frequented the Haymarket, and was often seen with a gentleman, now deceased, who by bad company lost his fortune, and had to sustain a long law-suit to prove his sanity. By the lower order of the depraved he was regarded as one of quite a large number of gentlemanly men whom they called "pigeon pluckers."

One night the gentleman and his Christian friend, who had met in the Haymarket, were conversing together, when he was accosted by a young man who appeared to be of age, with "Ah, Clifford! how'do? glad to see you. Just a word at your leisure."

"Certainly, my lord," was his reply. "I will be with you in a few minutes: should have been waiting for you, had I not met with this very pleasant friend."

"As Clifford's friend, may I crave the honour of offering my hand to your lordship?" inquired the Missionary.

"Certainly," replied the young nobleman (if such he was), and then the Christian visitor grasped his hand, and holding it with mild restraint, looked him full in the face, and said, "You are in danger, my lord. This dissipation will injure your person, your good name, your fortune, and perhaps your country. Be wise. Like a certain young ruler mentioned in the Gospel, approach the Lord Jesus, and ask, 'What shall I do to inherit eternal life?'"

A deep colour rose to the face of the young man, and he stepped hastily away; but turning back, as by sudden impulse, he again offered his hand to his reprover, and said, "I thank you, sir;" and was then lost in the crowd of the gay and dissipated.

Some weeks after this event, the night visitor met the gentleman, and had tea with him in a café. As they sat together at the small round marble table, the Missionary observed, "To me it is astonishing that you can live such a life as you are doing; heaping up wrath against the day of wrath. From a child you have known the Holy Scriptures, and I am surprised that texts do not at times rise to your memory, and produce a fearful looking forward to judgment!"

"Such is not the case," he replied, "strange as you may regard it. There is only one matter of memory which ever troubles me, and that is the verses of a child's hymn which our mother used to teach us as we knelt at her side in the nursery,—

 
'Almighty God, Thy piercing eye
Strikes through the shades of night;
And our most secret actions lie
All open to Thy sight.'
 

"At times these verses flash across my mind at most inconvenient seasons, and destroy my enjoyment; they occurred when you first spoke to me in the saloon, and the other night I caught myself repeating them when playing an important game of billiards." The pocket Bible was produced, and the words solemnly read,—"He hath appointed a day in the which He will judge the world in righteousness by that Man whom He hath ordained; whereof He hath given assurance unto all men in that He hath raised Him (Jesus) from the dead."

The visitor then repeated to him the verses of a Judgment Hymn of his own writing, which evidently made a deep impression:—

 
Roll, roll, ye thunders with terrific dread!
Shout, shout, ye angels and awake the dead!
Proclaim the mandate of the Almighty King;
Man, dead and living, to the Judgment bring.
 
 
Rise, rise, ye millions of reposing clay!
See, see, the light of the eternal day!
The brightness of His coming gilds the sky,
The glorious mantle of the Judge most high.
 
 
Rejoice, rejoice, ye ransomed sons of God!
Sing, sing, the virtue of the Saviour's blood!
Your loud triumphant Hallelujahs sing,
With great rejoicing hail your Saviour-King.
 
 
Mourn, mourn, neglecters of a Saviour's love;
Weep, weep, rejecters of the Heavenly Dove;
Insulted mercy leaves thee to the law
Which dooms to death, and bids thee hope no more.
 
 
Awake, awake, ye slumbering sinners, pray;
Cry, cry for mercy, now in mercy's day;
Flee to the Covert from the storm, and rest
Your blood-bought souls upon the Saviour's breast.
 

After this visit there were several other meetings, and then a long interval occurred. Upon inquiring for his friend at the divans and saloons, the visitor was told that "he had not been seen for some time: that he had no doubt gone upon the Continent, and would turn up next season." He was not there the following year, and was never seen in his old haunts again. It was with him as with others,—much effort without apparent result; and yet it is possible that, in the day of the Lord, good concerning some of them will be made manifest.

In one class of cases there is freedom from discouragement, and that is when the Christian worker is enabled to strengthen, to encourage, and to assist disciples in their efforts to give a testimony for the Lord, and to do good under depressing circumstances.

It was certainly thus with an old man who kept a coffee-stall in a poor neighbourhood. His shop consisted of a large barrow with canvas covering, supported at the corners by upright pieces of wood. At one end he had a small iron stove, with a large kettle upon it, and a coffee-pot on one side and tea-pot upon the other; at the farther end was a cupboard well filled with bread-and-butter and plum cake. Upon the centre of the barrow was a white cloth, covered with cups and saucers, and underneath were several pails of water. He used to wheel the whole concern to his corner as soon as the clock struck twelve at night, and wheel it away when the public and coffee-houses opened at six in the morning. The acquaintance of the proprietor was made in the following manner: One bitterly cold morning, about three o'clock, the Missionary, who was trembling from the chill felt upon leaving a warm night-house, approached the stall, and held his hands to the fire. The policeman on duty paused for the same purpose, and the following conversation passed between them:—

Stall-keeper: "I have read the book you lent me, and don't think the doctrine sound. Sovereign grace fore-ordained unto salvation, and the saints elected according to the Divine purpose must be saved. No man can pluck them out of the Saviour's hands."

Policeman: "You make too much of your favourite doctrine of election. Our Lord died for all who ever lived or shall live in the world; and it is written that it is not the will of God that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance."

"Both doctrines are plainly taught in the Divine Word," remarked the stranger; "and, like the colours in the rainbow, they harmonize and blend over the throne where Jesus is seated. We do well to seek for the full assurance of faith, and to rejoice in the sure covenant; but while doing so let us witness for the Lord who bought us, and try to win others by testifying of His abounding grace."

With a happy smile the policemen recommenced his weary walk round the beat, while the stall-keeper and the night-visitor had pleasant converse about the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, which hath appeared unto all men. This led to a friendship with the stall-keeper, who was a Cornish man and a Calvinistic Baptist; and to a slight acquaintance with the policeman, who was a Congregationalist. Several visits were paid to the "Coffee Man," as he was called, and work was appointed him in the great vineyard. He was supplied with tracts, which he kept in his cupboard, and for several years he was a valuable distributor. Groups of depraved people, who "make night hideous," used to surround his stall; to these he gave tracts, and spoke the truth boldly. He indeed became a kind of spiritual adviser to the depraved. Many repentant ones spoke with confidence to the good old man, and several were sent by him to his friend, and were placed in institutions of mercy.

This was not a solitary instance of converted men being found in night occupations; and it became an object of the visitor's efforts to strengthen such in the faith, and to lead them boldly to witness for their Lord in the midst of the ungodly. These helpers were precious and their testimony valuable, because the great body of persons met with were disreputable or utterly vile. Many were ignorant of the true light, but there were others who had received religious advantages, and who, by rejecting proffered mercy, counted themselves unworthy of eternal life. Among this mass of the unholy were to be found the young, the thoughtless, and the distressed, who being easily led captive by the devil and his servants, supplied the places of those who were constantly sinking to perdition. With some of these the work was effectual for good, as the following case will illustrate.

One night, a little after eleven, the Missionary was walking down Oxford Street, in company with another evangelist, when they passed a girl of seventeen, who was walking slowly, as if ill. The night visitor glanced at her, and was struck by the expression of misery and disease,—it seemed as though the sorrows of a life had been concentrated in that young face. He therefore turned suddenly, and approaching her, said kindly, "Don't be afraid: I am a religious man, and a friend to poor girls in trouble. Now do tell me where you are going?"

"To sleep under the trees in the park, sir, if I can get in," she replied; "if not, to walk about all night;" and then she burst into tears.

In answer to inquiries, she made the following statement, in a very truthful manner. She said, "I am a village girl, and came from home after losing my only parent about eighteen months ago. A neighbour's girl who was in London got me a place. It was at a lodging-house: and I rarely got out, as they only let me go to church three times. All the stairs were of stone, and I had to clean them; this, with constant running up and down, brought on a white swelling in my knee. I remained as long as I could crawl, and then, as I had saved three pounds, went to live with the charwoman. After a time I went into an hospital for two months. I returned to the charwoman, and tried to get into place, but I looked so ill that no one would engage me. After the money was spent I pawned my clothes, and I was told to go to the workhouse. I went to the door, but the man spoke so sharp to me that I drew back, and now I have been in the streets for two days. Last night I slept with some other girls under the trees in Hyde Park, but they talked so dreadful that I am afraid to go in again. Oh! what shall I do?" and then she sobbed so loudly that several persons crossed from the other side of the street.