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

The Book in the Court:

ITS CERTAIN GOOD.

 
"As winter streams that long have lain
In icy fetters darkly bound,
When spring returns leap forth again
And fill the vale with song and sound;
So did their spring-time now return,
And love dissolved the icy chain,
And smothered hopes began to burn,
And Jenny was herself again."
 

Mrs. Sewell.

CHAPTER VI

A PRAISE MEETING—DEATH OF THE WIDOW—JOY OF THE BLESSED—OUT OF THE PRIZE RING—A FAREWELL SPEECH—A FAGGER—A STRANGE PREACHER—DUSTY AND THE FIDDLER—PRAYING IN THE CELL—INDIAN GIRL—GENESA—INFIDEL SOCIETY DISSOLVED—WORKS FOLLOWING—THE BANNER OF LOVE.

The Book in the Court:

ITS CERTAIN GOOD

"My Word that goeth forth out of My mouth, it shall not return unto Me void." Isa. lv. 11.

TIME glided on pleasantly, as time always does when occupied with the activities of the Christian life, and brought the Missionary to the third anniversary of the day upon which he first entered Paradise Court. As that had become a commemorative day of deep interest to many of the inhabitants, their visitor had arranged with them to raise an Ebenezer of praise. As he entered the Place with his old friend the Superintendent, there were pleasant greetings on every hand. The children ran in a flock to meet him; and as if to show the good they had received, the eldest girl of the "translator," who three years before had boasted that "his children knew nothing of superstition," held for his inspection a reward-card which she had received at a Sunday-school. Salvation had come to that man's room, and he rejoiced in it, and his wife and family were made glad. The Court itself gave indications that good influences had been at work there, as its general appearance was cleaner, and window-sills were ornamented with flower-pots and boxes. The gift of a few flowers had given pleasure to those of the poor who had come from the country, and had served as texts for lessons upon the value of pure air and cleanliness; while to many it was a discovery, that though the atmosphere was foul and black, they might have a thing of beauty and fragrance at their windows for part of the year. The appearance of the people was much the same, as all looked poor, and some had tattered clothes; but the police knew that rows had almost ceased, and that there was less depravity and law-breaking than formerly; and better still, the visitor knew that the restoring influence of grace had upraised some of the families, as he could make his way to rooms in which the Bible was valued, and in which its teaching had led to saving faith and holy living. On Sunday morning, as usual, women went to market, and returned with aprons full of provisions; but these were not so numerous as formerly, and those who did so showed their sense of wrong-doing by making excuse for their conduct. A disposition for hearing the truth had been created, as the Widow's room had long become too small, and the meeting had to be removed to double rooms in a street just by. These proofs of blessing had led to arrangements for a praise-meeting in the Widow's room at twelve o'clock, and it was filled with men and women who had managed to spend part of the dinner hour in holy exercise. The hymn, "Praise ye the Lord, 'tis good to raise," was sung; the hundred and forty-fifth Psalm was read, with a short comment upon the words, "All Thy works shall praise Thee, O Lord, and Thy saints shall bless Thee;" and then the language of praise ascended from that poor Court as incense to the throne of heavenly grace. In the evening a tea was given in the meeting-room to the forty persons who usually attended. Two hours were spent in social intercourse, and two in hymn-singing, prayer, and the hearing of suitable addresses. The Wesleyan and Independent ministers took part in the proceedings; and when the Rector, who had joined the party, pronounced the Benediction, the people separated, praising and blessing God.

There was only one thing which cast a shade over the happy meeting, and that was the state of the Widow's health. All noticed that while her happiness was intense, her words were few; and there were grave shakings of the head, and anxious remarks about her not having been like herself for some time past. This was evident when, as usual, upon the following Wednesday she took dinner with the Missionary. This arrangement had been made out of consideration to her, and in order that they might consult together about the details of the work. That hour of conference with his wife and the Widow was of importance, as a knowledge of individual character (so valuable to those who would be wise in soul-winning) was obtained, and plans of action arranged. Upon her way back to the Court she was silent, and leant heavily upon the arm of her friend. On the following Wednesday she was unable to leave her room, so part of the evening was spent with her in sweet converse about the covenant which is ordered in all things and sure. At parting she said softly, "I am so happy, and so close to heaven that a waft would take me in;" and then after a pause she added, "To see Jesus: the fairest among ten thousand!" After this she grew more feeble; but when her friend called in one evening she seemed better, though drowsy. He therefore offered up a short prayer and left. Early in the morning two women came in haste to his house, to say that the Widow was dead. He hurried back with them, and found the Place in a state of commotion. The people were standing in groups, and round the door was a company of weeping women. He passed them, and with soft tread entered the chamber of death, as he felt the solemn influence which pervaded the room. In the stillness of the night the angels had been there, and had taken a redeemed soul back with them into the everlasting habitations of the blessed. The shutters had been partly opened, and a gleam of light was thrown upon the bed, where lay, as though prepared for burial, the remains of the soldier's widow. Taking the icy-cold hand affectionately in his, he gazed into the face, which appeared to be set in calm sleep, and felt that no pains of death had been permitted to distress the holy dying of the aged saint. Upon the table lay the open Bible, with her spectacles upon a page of the Psalms, and near them her quarterly ticket, with "Ruth Peters" written upon it. The doctor, who had seen her the day before, said that an inquest would not be necessary, as he could give a proper certificate; the remains were therefore left in the care of several women, who loved her as a mother.

The same kind hand which had supplied the needs of the Widow, provided a suitable funeral. Ah, and that was an honourable burial, for she was carried to the grave by six men of the Court, who left their work for the purpose; and as the coffin was borne through the Place, followed by several of the neighbours, with the Missionary as chief mourner, the people made great lamentation over her. And when the earth was dropped into the grave, with the solemn utterance, "Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust," all felt that at the resurrection of the just that body would be raised and made like unto Christ's glorious body.

The Missionary hastened from the funeral to meet the County Member, as he had arranged that evening to visit the district. The honourable gentleman had been so pressed to place boys into "Homes," that he decided to see the people for whom he was asked to do so much. In the evening, when they entered the Court, there was, for so crowded a place, deep silence; and as they passed from room to room, they had to speak words of comfort to the people who were sorrowing for the loss of their friend. And they were sweet words of heavenly consolation which the stranger uttered. As he left the Place he leant for a moment upon a post at the entrance, and said thoughtfully, "I wish you had told me about that Widow, as I should like to have known her." Soon after he sent the Missionary a book in memory of his sainted wife ("Our Friends in Heaven"), and wrote in it, "Not death, she said, but life, life, life, eternity!" And when the days of his sojourn were accomplished, he with like words crossed to the celestial side of the river. And may he not know the Widow now? May it not be one of the joys of the heavenly state to hold sweet converse with saints about whom we have only heard upon earth? May it not indeed be an employment of enduring delight to be continually enlarging our acquaintance,—to know and to be known of the innumerable company of the redeemed?

The removal of the Widow was a felt loss, but the bereavement was the means of leading several of the poor to yield themselves to God. The worker had lost his right hand, and yet the work was made to prosper. For several months the attendance at the meeting increased, though there was a constant drafting away to the regular ministry. At one of these meetings he took for exposition the speech of St. Paul to the elders of the Church at Ephesus. At the close he referred for the second time to the words, "Therefore watch, and remember that for the space of three years I ceased not to warn every one night and day with tears;" and after an effort gently to break the news, he said abruptly, "I am about to leave you, as the Lord in His providence has made it plain that He has important work for me to do elsewhere." This announcement brought the meeting to a close, as the people left their seats and surrounded him with expressions of real sorrow.

For some days after there was earnest visiting in the Court, as the Missionary felt the responsibility of speaking to the people for the last time; and as a proof of the power of domiciliary visitation in overcoming opposition to the truth, not one person, from the beginning to the end of the Place, uttered an offensive word; while many gave him a hearty welcome and a tearful good-bye. Take for instance, the "prize-fighter," who had not quite recovered from a successful pugilistic encounter with a Birmingham man, for ten pounds a side, as his face was bruised and discoloured, and his right arm disabled. He received the visitor with what to him was a painful smile, and then in a confidential manner said, "It tain't sir, as I 'em a-gettin soft, that I've resoluted; but I haven't got over that backhander you gave me out of that Book, as was, 'Will a man fight his Maker?' and the way you closed in was stunnin; and says I to myself, I 'em knocked over the ropes, and I'll let the whiskers grow, and take to costering; that's summut, ain't it?" "The wearing of whiskers," was the reply, "will put you out of the prize-ring; and you will find that there is more happiness in getting an honest living with the blessing of Almighty God upon you, than there can be in wearing the 'Champion Belt of England' with His curse." "Haven't I wished for him to be out of the magic circle," exclaimed his wretched, vulgar-looking wife, "as you see the feeling is awful when your 'usband is going to be pitched into and knocked to a mummy; and you must be a fighter's lawful wife to know the feelin when it's a-goin on. If you drinks 'ard, why you can't leach 'im and poultice 'im, as is a tender job: and if he's beat, you gets nuffink; and when he beats, you treats ring pals and wagabons; and the money it tain't no good, and it tain't Christian-like as you says; and if you'll stick to him, though you are a-goin, I'll wade through seas of blood for you, as the sayin is." Their friend smiled graciously at this assurance, and then taking a seat, opened the Book, and read to them about Him who was wounded for our transgressions and bruised for our iniquities.

The day before leaving, the Missionary announced his intention of bidding the people farewell at six o'clock next evening in the open Court, and of then introducing his successor to them. As at the appointed time they entered the Place, it was so densely packed that they with difficulty pressed to the bend in the middle. A chair was handed from a window, and as their friend stepped upon it the murmur of voices burst into a loud cheer. Looking round, he saw an expression of sorrow upon that mass of upturned faces, and near him stood the reclaimed infidel, the fighting man, the chanter, Tom and Bess, and others for whom he had a Christian affection. For a few moments he remained silent with emotion, and then with faltering and afterwards with firmer voice said, "I think, my good friends, that I have shaken hands and said Good-bye to each of you in your rooms; but I have thought it well that we should have a last meeting, and together ask our heavenly Father to bless and to take care of us. The four years I have gone in and out among you have been years of happiness; at first we did not understand each other, but from the time you discovered that my one object in life was to lead you to the Lord Jesus Christ that you might be made good and happy, you have regarded me as your friend. Some of you have believed to the saving of your souls. (A cry of "Bless the Lord.") Let me, as your father in Christ, beseech of you to regard this Holy Book as you do your necessary food,—to live lives of daily, constant prayer, always looking to Jesus. There are others here who respect me as the King's messenger, but who do not care for the message of a Saviour's mercy, which I have delivered to them. You are going as fast as time can carry you to the grave,—to hell: faster and faster from heaven. Listen to my last words, as I shall meet you when the dead, small and great, shall stand before the judgment seat of Christ. Turn from your evil ways, from your drunken habits, your Sabbath breaking, your iniquities. And in the name of Jesus, because He died upon the cross to save you, ask Almighty God to pardon and to give you His Holy Spirit, that you may be Christians indeed." And then raising his pocket Bible, and looking up to heaven, he continued, "Let us all so live that we may meet in glory: the Widow is there, and some out of this place have already followed her. Let us hate sin, trust in the Saviour, and press on for the crown of life." Here the emotion of the people became so great that several exclaimed, "We will," and others "May the Lord have mercy upon us." The speaker then said, "I will now introduce your new Missionary, by asking him to read something to us out of the good old Book; you will then see him and hear his voice: when he has done, I will offer prayer; after that he will stand in my place to you. Receive him as one sent from God, to show unto you the way of eternal life, and prove your love to me by treating him as my friend."

The stranger then took his place upon the chair, and read the hundred and third psalm, after which the old friend rose to offer the parting prayer. As the words, "Let us pray," rung through the Court, battered hats and fur caps were removed, so all the men stood uncovered, and several of the women knelt down; while at the windows and in the crowd, many covered their faces with their hands. The prayer was short but earnest. At its close the word "Amen" was uttered so loud and clear, that it seemed to come from a church congregation, rather than from that strange gathering of worshippers; and after the Benediction the word was uttered with still deeper feeling; and then, amidst the tears, the thanks, and blessings of the people, and humbled before God, because of the mission blessings received, the man with the Book passed out of Paradise Court.

He did not, however, and has not to this day, lost interest in the people. At intervals he visited in the place with the Missionary, but on each occasion found some of his old friends gone, and at length, his acquaintance there became very small. Among those who remained, was drunken (now sober) Sammy. He became a member of the Baptist chapel, and never broke his pledge. His attendance at the means of grace and at temperance meetings was regular, and he won the respect of Church members and abstaining companions. When the friend who had stopped him in the road to ruin called, he treated him with a respect approaching to reverence. He died at the age of seventy, after a short illness, in which he gave evidence of meetness for heaven.

Persons who have left the Court, have frequently been met with in the streets and elsewhere, and several remarkable proofs of good were in this way brought to light; as, for instance, in the case of a little deformed man of uncertain age, strange expression of countenance, and rather weak intellect, who shared a back attic with a crossing sweeper, and paid one shilling a week rent. He called himself a "fagger," and lived as quite a number of men do, by searching the streets of London by night and at early morning for lost money and property. These "faggers," may be seen walking at a steady pace, or trotting gently, glancing keen looks along the road and pavement. They always pause at corners where omnibuses stop; at the doors of theatres and other likely places. In the season they all make for the "Haymarket," as the place where valuables such as rings may be found, and when the "cafés" close, they make for home, searching as they go.

Our "fagger," as a child of the night, was rarely seen by day. He was indeed quite a recluse, as he shrunk from the derision to which his unsightly appearance subjected him from the children and his ignorant neighbours. So they only saw him when he shuffled out at night, or trotted back early in the morning. He for months refused the Missionary admission to the room, and was angry when his landlord, the sweeper, insisted upon receiving the visits, and he used on these occasions to seat himself upon his stool in the corner with a sulky expression of face. After a time his confidence was obtained, and it was then discovered that the poor simple man was utterly ignorant of saving truth. He had entered upon life as a "City Arab," could not read, had never been into a place of worship, and had not even heard the name of the Saviour. Little did the sower think, as the seed of the kingdom fell so freely from his hand, that it was to find good ground in the heart of the poor "fagger." He became deeply interested in the readings from the Bible, and at the farewell visit he drew his stool nearer, and his eyes brightened as the sweeper and himself listened to St. John's narrative of the crucifixion.

Nearly a year had passed after this visit when a group of eight or ten persons assembled in Oxford Circus. It was long after midnight, and bitterly cold. The Missionary who was passing, approached, and two policemen to whom he was known, informed him that the well-dressed man who lay upon the kerb, with a frightful gash upon the forehead, was in liquor, and had fallen against the lamp-post. As the man was stunned, if not seriously injured, the police were advised to take him to the hospital, and one of them left to get a stretcher for that purpose. By this time a number of depraved men and women had gathered round, some of whom uttered ribald jokes, one woman suggesting "that as the gent was dead, they had better search his pockets for money, with which to drink to his memory." "And if dead," exclaimed the Missionary in a voice so loud and solemn that the people were startled: "if dead, his eternal state is fixed; the day of mercy over; and there is a fearful meeting with the Judge of heaven and earth." For a few moments there was silence, when a man near the lamp said, "He knows nothing about it, as no one ever came back from the other world to tell us." Before a reply could be given, an odd-looking little man who had pressed into the circle, exclaimed, "He does know: he's got it in his Book. They nailed Jesus to the cross, they did; He got out of the grave, He did; He's alive a savin' us, He is; it's in the gent's Book, it is: he knows it;" and then the little "fagger," for it was he, trotted away, as if astonished at himself. "That poor man is right," said the Missionary, "The Lord Jesus is alive to save sinners." No more could be said, as the policeman arrived with the stretcher, and as they bore the injured man away, some of the crowd followed, but many who were sinners remained to hear the Gospel more fully.

The Missionary followed in the direction the "fagger" had taken, and found him in Pall Mall. They stood for some time under the colonnade of the opera house, and there the man of feeble intellect called Jesus, Lord, and repeated the simple prayer he used. A few months after this he was removed to the infirmary, in abject poverty and increased mental weakness. At times, however, he used to sit in Poverty Square (a yard in the workhouse), muttering to himself the one great truth he had grasped,—that the crucified Jesus was a living Saviour; and while a ray of reason remained this gave him comfort. When last heard of his mind had entirely gone, but he was for years a living proof that the grand truth of salvation can be grasped by the feeblest as well as by the mightiest intellect.

The "niggers" were met with under very different circumstances. Several summers after the visit to their dressing-room and the rescue of "Black Poll," their friend was walking upon the sands at Broadstairs in company with three ladies. They stopped to listen to an entertainment which some "niggers," who had formed themselves into a circle, were about to give. As he knew them, and did not care that they should then recognise him, he kept at the back of the assembled listeners. Towards the close, there was a peculiar "ogling" between the "artistes," and a looking in one direction, and then they brought their entertainment to a sudden close; and to the surprise of the company, and the horror of the three ladies (who slipped off), they fairly rushed toward their friend, and in the most demonstrative manner owned him as such. "I has bin to see Poll," exclaimed Dusty, "and she's growed a wapper, and took to hedecation, as is her nature. And she writ me a letter, and if I sees yer honour arter dark I'll bring it; and now the ladies are out we picks up fourpennies and sixpennies, and when they goes in the tother sort comes out, an' we only gets browns." For the time it was a relief to be rid of them, so an appointment was made upon the sands at ten o'clock that night. The men, who had left their instruments behind them, were waiting, and a strangely pleasant hour was spent with them. As they stood at the edge, or rather followed the receding tide, the moon casting her soft light upon the rippling waves, the "niggers" listened, and in their way conversed about truths which concerned their salvation. The confidential utterance of the fiddler, will show the influence of Christian effort with such people. "You sees, sir," he said, "that this ain't a religious sort of business, but I can't be no other but a 'nigger,' and I has a wife an' three youngsters, what are always a-hopening of their mouths and must have summut to put into 'em. But I has given up getting drunk and cursing as I used, and wheresomever I bees on Sunday, I slips in to hear religion preached, if there ain't nuffin of that ere sort a-going-on in the open, as I prefers."

The presence of the "niggers" reminds us of their near neighbour in London, the convict's widow, and we will therefore finish her little history. Every six months, for nearly five years, her son at the convict establishment sent a letter to his teacher. At the end of that time the chaplain wrote to say that he was to be discharged with a ticket-of-leave, as his conduct had been very good. As it was thought well to keep him from his mother, a room was taken for him near to his teacher, as he never ceased to call him. His case was mentioned to a Christian man, a builder, who promised when his hair was grown to give him work, and to keep the secret of his antecedents from others. Upon his discharge the convict came direct to his friend's house, where his mother was ready to receive him; and the meeting was most affecting, as she hugged and kissed her son, who had grown a big man, as though he had been a child. When in quiet conversation that evening, the convict spoke with feeling of the reading upon the housetop, and added, "That night in the police cell I laid upon my face for several hours, sobbing and praying for mercy. I knew that I had done wrong, and didn't fear the punishment; all I wanted was God's pardon, and I believe that He did forgive me the next evening, as I lay praying in the cell at the detention house, for I then felt that Jesus was my Saviour, and it was the happiest evening of my life. At Dartmoor I have borne my punishment in the spirit of prayer, and I am glad of my discharge that I may show forth the praise of the Saviour." A few Sundays after, when his hair was sufficiently grown for him to mix with others, he was introduced to a branch of the Young Men's Christian Association, of which he became a member. He went to his work, and did well until the time of his full discharge. Soon after this the fact of his being a returned convict became known to his fellow-workmen and Christian friends: this caused him constant and bitter annoyance. One evening he came to his "teacher," and said, "You know, sir, that I have desired to be a soldier, and would have enlisted if I had not committed that last crime. As all is known about me, I can't stop at the builder's, and don't know where to go; so I think that I shall take the Queen's shilling, as I can be as good a Christian in the army as out of it." He acted on this resolution, and enlisted into a regiment then serving in India. He wrote several letters to his mother and teacher, telling them that he was very happy in his new calling, and that he had joined a soldiers' prayer-meeting, and taken part in its proceedings. One evening the following winter the mother came to the house of the teacher in a most pitiable condition. As she stood at the door without bonnet or shawl, and partly covered with snow, her face bore an expression of abject misery. In her hand she held a letter, and the big tears stood in her eyes. It was evident that her grief was too deep for utterance, so her friend took the letter from her hand, and glancing through it found that it was from the colour-sergeant of the regiment, to say "that her son, his comrade and Christian friend, had died of fever, after four days' illness, and that his end was perfect peace." The poor stricken one was taken into the kitchen and seated before the fire, a cup of tea being made for her. When warmed and refreshed, her friend spoke comforting words, and then they sought the soothing influence of prayer. An hour after she went out into the cold and snow much comforted, and muttering to herself about her "Eddy" and heaven. From that time her frame bowed, her hearing became heavy, and her health gradually gave way. At times she was an annoyance to her friend, as he had evidently taken the place of her son in her affections. Strange-looking object as she was, she used to call upon him at most unseasonable times. As her health failed these visits became less frequent, and in her last illness they were returned. Before her death, which was very recent, the patient labourer was rewarded for his efforts of many years to lead her to the Saviour, as she clung to Him with all the fervour of a simple faith. To the last she kept her foolish oath, for she did not for thirty years wear either bonnet or shawl.

"Saved in a London Court, and gathered into the Heavenly Mansions from India," is the epitome of the young convict's spiritual history: and as if to illustrate the fact that London is the great heart of the world, an Indian who was met with in that very Court, was drawn, gave the life-look to the Uplifted One, and from the empire city joined the "great multitude of all nations, and kindred, and people, and tongues." It thus occurred,—

Upon his entering the Court one morning, the Missionary noticed a little Indian girl, who was surrounded by a number of other children. She was about eight years of age, of dark yellow complexion, with jet black hair, which hung over her shoulders, and upon her wrists were thick silver bracelets. Upon questioning her, the child with peculiar accent, said that she came with her parents from Bombay; that her father was a cook, and had come to London to make pickles at a large shop; and that they had come to live in the Court until her father and mother got to work. He went to the room with the child, and there saw the father, a pure Indian, dressed like a Lascar. There was only a hammock-like mattress, and some ship's utensils in the room. Upon the mantel-shelf were many bottles of curry powder, and a small idol of white ivory, which seemed to represent a boy with the head of an elephant. As the Visitor started a conversation about the business, he became communicative, and stated that he was a native of Hyderabad, but had lived for many years in Bombay, where he became cook to a British sahib, and afterwards was employed to make pickles for export to England. He was reluctant to talk about religion, but said that Vishnu and Ganesa were great and powerful gods; that he had married a half-caste woman, whose mother was a Mohammedan, and whose father was an English sailor, and now kept a lodging-house for sailors at Bombay; that the bracelets upon the wrists of his child were made of silver coins which bore the image of his mother's god, and she had placed them on the child when she was an infant. He added, "that he thought his wife was a Christian, but that she had respect to Ganesa, and that he did not like his child to be a Christian, as they got drunk and broke up the gods." When the one Great God was mentioned he looked anxiously towards his idol, as though he feared that it would be injured or taken from him; and then he muttered so loudly in a strange tongue, that the visitor thought it well to leave.

A few days after the Missionary was told that the Indian was ill, and he at once went in to see him. He found him so bad, that he went out and fetched a medical friend, whose prescription gave immediate relief. That evening the heathen listened for the first time to a simple statement concerning Jehovah; His works, His mercy, and the atonement accomplished at Jerusalem for the sin of the world. As he was worse next morning, his friend obtained an indoor letter for the Middlesex Hospital, and removed him there in a cab. He remained under treatment for nearly two months, during which time he was visited thrice a week, and thoroughly instructed in the Christian faith. When discharged he did not return to the Court in which he had lived only a fortnight, as his wife had arrived, and had taken a room near some of their country people in Drury Lane. As he expressed contempt for idols, and a desire for salvation, he was introduced to the Missionary of the district, who paid him great attention, and brought several clergymen to instruct him. One day he ran after his old friend, whom he saw in Holborn, and exclaimed, "Oh, sahib, God in heaven is so great, and Jesus is our Saviour here!" This confession gave joy to his friend, who returned with him to his lodging, and was pleased to find that the Indian and his wife had become regular in their attendance at church. After a conversation about baptism, the Missionary took hold of the bracelet of their little girl, who from the time he entered the room had sat with her hand in his, and said, "These heathenish ornaments ought not to remain upon the wrists of your child, now that you are Christians." "Take them off, sahib," replied the father: "they are much money, and a present from my heart to you." A few days after the Missionary and his wife drew them open with a towel, and he has them now among other precious memorials of Christian work. Arrangements had been made for the baptism of the Indian, when he was taken suddenly ill; that sacrament was however administered by a curate of St. Giles' Church. He lived some months after this in great suffering, but he rejoiced in God his Saviour, and fell asleep in Him. As the mother was poor, with two younger children, and as the girl was exposed to much evil in that low neighbourhood, the Missionary placed her in a "rescue Home." She grew up a pleasant Christian girl, and went to service. When she last called upon her friend, all was well with her.