LlbKAKY STRANGE FI^OM MUMBLE I2ST -A.SZE3I SANDERSON AND LITTLE ALICE. JUBLIHKD BY ^ERMISSION OF THB AUTHOR. PUBLISHED BY PHILADELPHIA CONFERENCE TRACT SOCIETY, AT METHODIST EPISCOPAL BOOK ROOMS, 1018 ARCH STEEET, PHILADA. NOTE TO THE SECOND SEEIES, THE reader may rest assured these narratives are substantially true, as many persons now living in the neighborhood can testify. The names mentioned are real names, both of persons and places. Some of them, as in the former case, have arisen from my connection with the Chapel for the Destitute. I am surprised and thankful for the reception given to the first eleven Tales, now constituting the First Volume nearly half a million of which have been sold in a few months and the urgent request of many friends that I would furnish them with more, induces me again to dip into my diary, where many more yet remain. I am a tradesman, and make no pretensions to liter- ary ability. If He whom I desire to serve condescends to use me as a medium of good to others, my earnest wish will be realized. To Him my prayer has been, :< HOLD THOU MY EIGHT HAND." J. ASHWOKTH. Rochdale, 1866. iratf ttb King Street, or Packer Meadow, is considered by the inhabitants of Rochdale as anything but a respectable section of the town. One or two of the residents in the lower part are in moder- ate circumstances, but at the upper end the houses are of the most wretched description. Sanderson, the subject of this narrative, occu- pied one of the better houses, and my acquaint- ance with him began through the howling of his dog, a dark, red, bushy-tailed animal, so like a fox, that he had got that marauder's name. In one part of the street a poor man lay dy- ing. I was called in to read and pray with him, and had sat by his bed some time, when Fox came underneath the window, and set up a most dismal howl. Jane Moorehouse, a relative of the dying man, sprang up from her seat, ex- claiming, "It is all over with Richard. Fox is shouting, and when that dog shouts, death is sure to follow; it never misses when he howls in the night." "Does the dog belong to some one in the neighborhood?" I asked. "Yes," was her answer, "it belongs to San- derson, a man that neither believes in heaven nor hell, God nor devil ; and never is any per- 2 SANDERSON son about to die in this street, but Fox howls, as the sure sign of death. He howled when Moss and Simpson died, and hastened their end; if he howled under my window I should expect to die in twelve hours. 0, how I tremble!" On leaving the sick man's chamber, and reach- ing the street, Fox was walking quickly up and down, still making his really fearful noise; but a touch from my walking-stick sent him speed- ily home. It is no easy matter to divest ourselves of the superstitious, tormenting traditions imbibed in early years. The howling of dogs is considered a prelude of death by thousands. We know that dogs howl at the sound of music, or when the moon is rising on a clear, calm night, " baying the moon," as Shakespeare calls it. On hot, sultry nights they often howl to each other; and that some dogs can scent decaying animal matter at a great distance, and, smelling it, will give a howl indicating the discovery, is well known. Many contend that this is the true philosophy of their shouting when near the houses of the dying. But this does not apply in all cases, and, perhaps in none ; it cannot ap- ply to the healthy, though Mrs. Moorehouse be lieved it did, and it is a pity that the sick should be frightened by any such foolish superstition. The shooting of cinders from the fire foretelling AND LITTLE ALICE. 3 a coffin, bad luck from light- haired persons " taking in " the new year, the cracking of fur- niture and the howling of dogs indicating death, belong to a day when Sunday-schools were un- known, when books were few, and witches and fortune-tellers plentiful. The old lady's description of Sanderson's creed, or, rather no creed, I found to be correct. His hatred to " parsons " (as he called ministers) was intense ; the sight of one of them operated upon him like the sight of water to a mad dog, and made him howl almost as loud as his own old Fox. Sanderson was a machine card-maker by trade.' He had several acquaintances of his own way of thinking, and on Sundays they were often found together, rambling through tho fields, or reading their favorite books: and news- papers, and hardening each other in t^ieir gloomy principles. He was about thirty-five years of age, when his neighbors began to talk of his altered looks; his stout form was giv'ng way, severe coughing set in, and he was, in the opin- ion of many, a marked man. In mis(y or cold weather he kept his room, and ultimately be- came unable to walk up and down stoirs. An old shoemaker, named Philip Powles, n Primi- tive Methodist, became much concerned about the spiritual state of his dying infidel neighbor; ke, however, durst not go to see him himself, 4 SANDERSON but earnestly entreated Mr. Britton, a zealous Primitive Methodist minister, to undertake the hazardous task. Mr. Britton went to see Sanderson, at the re- quest of the anxious shoemaker. On entering the house, he informed Mrs. Sanderson of his wish to see her husband, adding, that he was in- formed he was an infidel, but had come to talk with him about his soul, for he was sure he had one. " I am very sorry you have called on such an errand, for I am sure my husband will not see you, and it would very much vex and disturb him if he knew you were in the house. I am pained that it is so," observed Mrs. Sander- son. " I am come purposely to disturb him ; for he had better be disturbed here than damned here- after. If God, in His mercy, does not disturb him, he will be lost forever! Just go up stairs if you please, and ask if I may see him." Poor woman ! she knew not what to do. She Was atraid to offend her husband or the min- ister ; but Mr. Britton persisted, and at last she went up stairs, and began quietly to ar- range the various little things about the room, fearing to tell her real errand ; but Sanderson had heard a strange voice in the house, and in- quired who was below. AND LITTLE ALICE. 5 "A gentleman of the name of Britton, whom Philip Powles requested to call and see you ; I think he is the minister of Philip's church." " Tell him that I shall not see him, and when I need him or any other parson, I will let them know." He spoke these words so sharply that Mrs. Sanderson quickly left the room, and closed the door after her. " Well, what does he say ?" asked Mr. B. "That he will not see you or any other min- ister," was her reply. "I have a good mind to kneel down at the bottom of the stairs and pray so loud that he will hear. The Lord have mercy upon him before it be too late !" Mr. Britton's colleague, hearing of the matter, charged him with being " soft," and determined to go himself and see the infidel, whatever con sequences might follow. Sanderson had strictly ordered his wife noi to allow any parson, or professor of religion by any means to enter the room. She knew hi? temper, and when the second Primitive minis- ter came, she told him of her peremptory or. ders " Well, but I have come to see him, and I in- tend to see him," was the answer, "and if you dare not ask permission, I will go up at once, &,nd take all consequences." a O SANDERSON Fortunately, her husband heard all the con- versation, and called from the top of the stairs, that " if any parson dared to enter his room, he would smash his brains out with the poker." I give his own words, that the reader may better understand the morose, untamed character of the man. He also ordered his wife to fetch a police- man to turn him out immediately. This caused our good Primitive brother to beat a retreat, and rather altered his opinion of Mr. Britton's " soft- ness." Now, Sanderson was one of those characters whom circumvention would most 'readily over- come. He was an intelligent reader of one class of books, and always ready for an argument : he was extreme in politics, entertaining repub- lican notions; his collection of books was nu- merous for a man in his position ; his knowledge of history was extensive, and he always main- tained that all civil evils sprang from either king-craft, or priest-craft. Cobbett's " Legacy to Parsons," and Paine's " Two-pennyworth of Common Sense," were his text books. All these things I learned respecting Sanderson, and the question wa"s, How shall this man be brought to see his deplorable condition? When the deer-stalker ascends the wild moun- tains with the object of shooting the timid roe, he fii ds the greatest caution necessary to accom- AND LITTLE ALICE. 7 plish his purpose. The red Indian, hunting the prairie buffalo, will lean on his gun, immovable as the stump of the tree, to allay all suspicion on the part of his intended victim. May there not also be benevolent stratagem ? And is not this the only possible plan in some cases? A child was made the means of opening the way which the two Primitive Methodists could not force. She was one of our Bailie-street scholars, a nice reader for her age, and could repeat a few hymns with good effect. The old shoemaker came to my house, and with much feeling, desired me to try to see San- derson. He told me how he had treated the ministers, but earnestly besought that I would make an effort. After reflecting for a day or two on the .best plan to adopt, I fixed on the Sunday-school child to open the way. The lit- tle girl often went to see Sanderson, and I learned that he was very fond of her. I prom- ised the child a present if she would learn well a short hymn, and afterwards go up to Mr. San- derson's room and say it to him. She very willingly undertook the task, and in two days was ready. She attended well to the directions I gave her, and about three in the afternoon went up to the sick infidel's room. " Well, Alice, are you come to see your sick friend?" observed Sanderson. SANDERSON "Yes, I have learned a new piece, and am come to say it to you. Will you let me?" Sanderson was quietly rocking himself in his arm-chair, with his feet on a small footstool, and his back towards the window. He took the child's book, saying "Now, then, be very care- ful and say it well ; mind you do not miss one word." Alice stood before him, folded her hands, and in a full, clear voice, began : " When life's tempestuous storms are o'er, How ca'.m he meets the friendly shore, Who died on earth to sin 1 Such peace on piety attends, That where the sinner's pleasure ends, The good man's joys begin. "See, smiling patience smoothes his brow. See the kind angels waiting now To waft his soul on high ; While, eager for the blest abode, He joins with them to praise the God That taught him how to die. " The horrors of the grave and hell, Those sorrows which the wicked feel, In vain their gloom display; For He who bids the comets burn, And makes the night descend, can turn His darkness into day. " No sorrows drown his lifted eyes, No horror wrests the struggling sighs, As from the sinner's breast; His God, the God of peace and love, Pours sweetest comforts from above, Then takes his soul to rest." When the child had finished the hymn, San Person handed her back the book, and quietly AND LITTLE ALICE. 9 said, " That will do, you may go down and take Fox with you ; I want to have no company for the present." I sought an early interview with the child On asking what Sanderson said, her artless an- swer was, " He put the book on his face, and 1 think he cried." * The following day, while the sick man was pacing his room, he found a tract on one of the chairs: he took it up, read a few lines, sat down, and read it all. He knew a great part of it to be true : with most of the circumstances nar- rated he was acquainted. Some events con- nected with the death of a man in the same street were such, that it had been thought ad- visable to publish them. Sanderson knew the man, had heard much about him, and was anxious to know more. He called his wife up stairs, and asked her how the tract had got into his room. She answered that " Mr. Ash worth had been giving them out amongst the neigh- bors, that she had read it, and thought that it would interest him." "Did John Ashworth request you to place the tract in my room?" he asked. " He did ; he often asks about you, and sayp he should like to come and talk politics with you." " Well, go, and tell him that if he can come 10 SANDERSON this evening, and tell me who wrote the tract, and talk politics as you say, I shall be glad oi his company." Mrs. Sanderson immediately made me ac- quainted with her husband's request, and that evening I paid him my first visit. After satis- fying him respecting the authorship of " Poor Joseph " (the title of the tract), he immediately asked what I thought of the Catholic Eman- cipation Bill; "for," said he, "I have been reading on the subject." I replied, that " governments had greviously mistaken their proper and legitimate jurisdic- tions in meddling with such subjects, from Con- stantine downwards ; that Caesar and God could never be brought together by acts of parliament ; that the true province of government was to secure the civil rights of all ; neither to smile nor frown on any sect or creed, but treat them all alike ; that if this plan had always been ad- hered to, neither Popery, Protestantism, nor Dissent would have been heard of, and that contentions for supremacy would never cease until this simple remedy was adopted " Our conversation lasted till late, and I left without any direct reference to religion. Some may think that I was trifling may be disposed to blame me, and ask, " What if he had died that night ! died in his sins ! died rejecting LITTLE ALICE. 1\ mercy ! how could you have reconciled your conscience in neglecting a plain duty ?" My answer is, I did not think he was so far gone in consumption, but that he probably would linger still for many weeks or months ; and, also, I thought I was taking the most likely measures to accomplish my object For several nights I went to see him, had long and interesting conversations on various subjects, but still left as at first. On taking up my hat to leave, on the sixth evening, he was walking to and fro. He, as usual, put out his hand to bid me good night, but the grasp was firmer and much longer than before. He looked me full in the face, and said, with a trembling voice, "Mr. Ash- worthj how is -it that you never speak to me about my soul ?" "Why, Sanderson, have you got a soul?" I said. He let go my hand, and began again to pace the room. I still stood with my hat in my hand, but under the most intense excitement. Now, I thought, the next word he speaks will reveal the inward workings of his mind With his finger he pointed to the chair from which I had just risen, evidently wishing me to be reseated. I obeyed in silence. Still walking about the room, he took out his handkerchief, and putting 27 12 SANDERSON it to his face, he groaned out at last with a choking voice " 0, Mr. Ash worth ! Mr. Ashworth ! I am a miserable man. That child's hymn, and ' Poor Joseph ' have crushed me to the dust ! I have held out as long as I can , whatever must I do ?" O, what joy sprang up from my soul in an instant. " Whatever must I do ?" from the bro- ken-hearted infidel, was music to me , yet I could not speak one word for several minutes. We wept together. At length I said, " Thank God, Sanderson, that question has not come too late ! there is an answer, and there is but one. 0, my dear friend, if scepticism, if infidelity could make a man happy, I should have been happy at one period of my life ; but it ne*er did, it never can It is a gloomy, blighting, blasting, wither- ing curse, and makes its dupe a miserable living lie, and sinks him lower than the brute. The magnificent heavens, the earth bespangled with ten thousand tints of beauty, and the deep solemn ocean, speak with a voice that would almost im- press the solid rock. The very dust under the infidel's feet mocks his incredulity , every atom has its purpose. The wonderful harmony and adaptation of the physical universe strike the ob- server with awe. God's material world displays His Physical government, God's revealed Word AND LITTLE ALICE. 13 nnfolds His moral government ; and there we find that reconciliation, union, and communion with God are absolutely necessary to secure the happiness of man. Man forsaking God lost peace ; man must return to God or remain mis- erable. Our redemption through Christ opens the way, and this is the answer to your question, ' Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.' ' While I was speaking, the poor broken-hearted penitent covered his face with his hands; the tears dropt through his fingers, and, with the greatest earnestness, he requested me to pray with him. There are periods when the most eloquent language is a very feeble representative of the soul's workings ; emotions too deep for words choke the utterance. Such was the moment when Sanderson and I knelt down to pray. But if prayer be the soul's sincere desire, we prayed; if it be the simplest form of speech, we prayed; prayed for the stricken, sorrowing, agonizing, groaning sinner, pleading the invitations and promises, pleading the shed blood of a crucified Saviour as sufficient to save a million worlds. The arrow of conviction was deep in the peni- tent's soul, but his new-born faith was yet too feeble to reach the only hand that could extract it. For several days Sanderson remained under 14 SANDERSON the lashings of a terrified guilty conscience, still wrestling for pardon and peace. But the mo- ment of deliverance came. Sanderson was on his knees ; the earnest cry, " God, for Christ's sake, blot out mine iniquities, and save my pjor guilty soul," burst from a heart of anguish. These words were the sublime strain that reached the Majesty on High ; the swift-winged messen- ger of reconciliation, with the still small voice, whispered, " Thy gins, which are many, are all forgiven. Thy faith has saved thee, go in peace." Sanderson rose from his knees a new man ; he was now unspeakably happy. Heaven had supplanted hell ; his enraptured soul burst forth in praises and thanksgiving. The change- made a noise in the neighborhood ; his old acquaint- ances reported that he was wrong in his head ; and, if they were right, he was wrong, for now they were wide as the poles asunder. He sent an apology to the two ministers he had insulted, shook hands with old Philip the shoemaker, and for several months tried to undo the injury he had done, by speaking to old and young of the power of saving grace. Reading the Bible was his delight, and many passages in the New Tes- tament he committed to memory. He was now a happy man. Sanderson's change of heart had such an in- fluence on his health, that great hopes were en- 30 AND LITTLE ALICE. 15 tertained he would entirely recover. He often expressed his conviction that " if anything could give a sick man a chance of being restored to health, peace with God, through Jesus Christ would ; for a happy soul would do much towards strengthening a sickly body. His recovered strength enabled him to attend the house of God, and no man in Rochdale more enjoyed the means of grace. The songs and prayers of the sanctu- ary, and the glad tidings of salvation through a preached gospel, filled his soul with deep emo- tion. He sought the company of religious men, and spent many pleasant hours with the old Christian shoemaker. The Bible was his con- stant-companion, and he committed to memory the hymn he first heard repeated by little Alice. He often wished he had been converted when young, that he might have had the pleasures and labors of a godly life. All fear of death was gone, and he felt a desire to live chiefly that he might do some good in the cause of God and the Church. But it was otherwise determined; for, being caught in a heavy shower of rain, he took a severe cold, and soon became unable to leave his bed. I was much with him during his last sickness. One fine Sabbath morning early, just before leav- ing town to fulfil my engagements at Littlebor- ough, I called to make what I believed would bo 16 SANDERSON AND LITTLE ALICE. a farewell visit. He was raised high in bed, with several pillows behind to support his now sink- ing frame. He smiled feebly, reached out his thin clammy hand, and, in a whisper, quoted three lines from the child's piece " See smiling patience smoothes my brow, See the kind angels waiting now, To waft my soul on high," and then asked if I was going to preach some- where. " Yes," I answered, " morning and afternoon at Littleborough." " Will you let me find you a text, and, if you do not preach from it to-day, preach from it as soon as you can ?" Hear, ye ministers of the cross, what sort ot texts dying men wish us to preach from- " This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners ; of whom I am chief." This was dying Sanderson's choice, and he specially wished mo not to leave out the last words, " Of whom I am chief." In a few hours, the soul of this chief of sinners, saved by grace, took its flight across the border- land, to join a Magdalene and a Saul of Tarsus in singing the praises of redeeming love. 82 i ' STRANGE TALES MOM HUMBLE LIFE. BY JOHN ASHWORTH. Fine Edition, Four Series, cloth, limp. The First and Second, bound in one volume, cloth, boards, or extra cloth, gilt edges, with steel portrait of the Author ; also Third and Fourth in one volume, gilt edges. These remarkable Tales are still kept as Tracts, of which nearly Three Millions have already been sold. FIRST SERIES. t. Mary; a Tale of Sorrow. 8. The Dark Hour. [Men. 5. A Wonder; or, The Two Old 1. Sanderson and Little Alice. 6. Wilkins. 6 & 7. The Dark Night. (and' II. Parts I.' 8. Joseph ; or, The Silent Corner. 9. My Mother. 10. Niff and his Dogs. 11. My New Friends. 12. My New Friends. 13. My New Friends. Part I. Part II. Part III. SECOND SERIES. U. Mothers. [Prayer. 15. Twenty Pounds ; or, The Little 16. All is Well. 17. My Uncle; or, Johnny's Box. 18. Old Adam. 19. Ellen Williams. 20. Trials. 21. Answered at Last. 22. Priscilla. [Step. 23. Julia ; or, The First Wrong 24. No Cotton. 25. My Young Ragged Friends. THIRD SERIES. 26 The Lst Curl. 27. Emmott. 26. The Widow. 29. Sarah ; or, " I Will hav Him ! ' SO. My Sick Friends. Part I. SI- My Sick Friends. Part II. 32. Geoege. 33. James Burrows. 34. John and Mary. 35. A Sad Story. 36. Lucy's Legacy. 37. Edmund. FOURTH SERIES. B8. The Golden Wedding. SO. William the Tutor. 40. Fathers, tl. Little Susan. feJ. Old Matthew. 43. Old Abe. 44. Milly. 45. The Fog Bell. 46. Mrs. Bowden. 47. Happy Ned. 48. Harry. 49. A Dancer. WALKS IN CANAAN. By same Author. 304 pages, with 7 full-page illustrations. Cloth, or extra cloth, gilt edges. ***" Mr. Ashworth's Tales and Books are above my praise ; they are circulated I believe, not by thousands, but by millions, and the result is, that the naine of John Ashworth is a Household Word, not only in the lordly halls, but in the lowly homes of England." Dr. Guthrie.