<
<:' <- <r <rc <:. c
c cc? ccc
<c: <
( c.o
r ^cc<r<c<:
cV: c < ' <? CL<
T^ C C <?.. L C
,^~c < <..<L. <" c
- c c - <r <- c .
,.
r<: . <,- <
C ' <r c ' '
-~
^.
c. cc
Q . C<C < "
< CC <^
,
<x <-.< -<sc;- -
<
^
'( <'
' CC
C? c C
Cc c <
C< CC c< c , c <i C
<.< < < <-
f< << -, V f <.' CC '
.<C< <f < C <C < C*
<- < r < c <
I <. < c c c < c < C
> ' < <r < r. <: .
Kf"^**-;-* < (, < C< C
: c -r c .<.
: c < c ft. <r c c
C' ' < C- C C<-<
<<. c r < , < <!'; c <
<r ' c < <- <
c c ^r c C ><:^'
c<rc
1
< < ,,<
sr
-c c;r
C ' <.
C * <
C
--<'<:
2' < <r c
^
C c<Tv
C *<C '
c
<T <,
C C
d c c c <
( c O <ta
__ cc
^ "Vc
<: C
c. = <L
'- < c <-' :
c c c c OBL; c" - c o <r<
"ccc : --c <adc cc <L
^> < c c, c <C c
C c c c- gCL c c. c
<L U , ^ <: c c cac c c c -
c <LC< c c v.c^i c <^c <3
^^-^^c <-" c. c '< ( 'ac c c ^
"c c c c-<<:' c c c ^
- c C < *'C C < C-
<
<
c ' t
__< c ' ' <
-"< < f tCf <'
C-CC c-- r<- >'
<- . c a
C CC
' r C '
<^ c '
c<
< C^
CjC
c c
c< '
< <,
I ( C C
I
if c <
</ < <
c- <
CC C cv<g c. C
< c c crcc c . <<.
< <r <T c< <:c c < <
CC:<T'C( C ^
' < C
1 C
< <
cc 7 cr <r
cc cc c
cc "^
c c <
c x <
c <r <:
- . <
<<T .- t <
< rc <r
r < *
-rc "C <4S&
< c c CVr
CC C
4 < CC
< '
c <^ Cc- ,
"Engraved, from, a Photograph, taken expressly for this "Work.
A.D ."WOKTEINCrTON & CD. HAR.TFORI). COOTT.
SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW
OR,
GLEANINGS FROM MY LIFE WORK.
COMPRISING
PERSONAL EXPERIENCES AND OPINIONS, ANECDOTES, INCIDENTS,
AND REMINISCENCES,
GATHEBED FROM
THIRTY-SEVEN TEARS' EXPERIENCE ON THE PLATFORM
AND AMONG THE PEOPLE,
AT HOME AND ABROAD.
BY JOHK B. GOUGH.
fy .full-page ngrabitrgs, anb f5tl-pste portrait of
I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten.
JOKL ii. 25.
HARTFORD, CONN.
A. D. WORTHINGTON AND COMPANY.
A. G. NETTLETON & Co., CHICAGO, ILLS.; N. D. THOMPSON & Co., ST. Louis, Mo M -
W. E. DIBBLE, CINCINNATI, OHIO; C. C. WICK & Co., CLEVELAND, OHIO;
F. DEWING & Co., SAN FRANCISCO, CAL.
1881.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880,
BY A. D. WORTHINGTON AND COMPANY,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
00
OT
HV
QQ
TO
MY WIFE,
THE FAITHFUL FRIEND, LOVING HELPMEET,
AND JUDICIOUS ADVISER FOR
THIRTY-EIGHT YEARS;
WITH UNABATED TRUST, AND EVER INCREASING
LOVE,
kafc tjjis
259158
PREFACE.
IN* the preface to a work entitled "The Odious,
Despicable, and Dreadful Condition of a Drunkard,"
by Junius Florilegus, published in London in 1649,
the writer not dreaming that an American would
borrow it two hundred and thirty years after says :
"Experience teaches that no one thing (be it the
violet) will please every one. That nothing is more
easie than to finde a colour of exceptions. That men's
censures are as various as their palats. That some
are as deeply in love with vice as others with vertue.
That crossed wickedness proves desperate, and in-
stead of yielding seeks for revenge of its own sins
upon others' uprightness. Shall I then make myself
the subject of every opinion, wise and weak? Yes,
I had rather hazard the censure of some than hinder
the good of others. Again, if I do ill, no plea can
warrant me; I cannot be discouraged with any cen-
sures; my desire is to satisfy all honest minds*
Therefore, the medicine must be fitted to the dis-
ease; the wedge proportioned to the timber; for the
harder and more knotty our hearts are, the harder
v
VI PREFACE.
and stronger must be the blows and wedges that
rive them. . . . There needs neither reasons to be
given, nor excuses or apologies to be made, where
the word is our warrant, and the benefit of our fellow-
men our aim. Thus most humbly beseeching God to
bless this effort, I leave its success to Hun, and its
use to the world."
So, borrowing the preface of Junius Florilegus,
written in 1649, I send out my book, earnestly hoping
it may be of benefit to some, and harmful to none.
JOHN B. GOUGH.
HILLSIDE,
Worcester, October, 1880.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
1. PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR, ON STEEL Frontispiece.
From a photograph taken expressly for this work, by Fredericks', New York,
in August, 1880, and Engraved on Steel by J. J. Cade, New York.
ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD.
ARTIST. ENGRAVES. PAGE
2. TRAINING SCHOOL FOR THIEVES.-)
INTERIOR OF A KEN OR LODGING HOUSE. ( * G ' ^^utcheon. J.P.Davis. To face 106
3. A STREET PREACHER AND HIS AU-
DIENCE
Geo. G.
4. ONE OF DEATH'S VICTIMS THE WIDOW )
AND THE FATHERLESS ........... \Fred' ck Dielman. Charles Sfieigle. " HO
5. THE BLOOD ON THE CEILING ..... F.O.C. Darley. John Foster. " 250
6. A CELLAR SCENE. THE BRUTE AND THE i
CELLAR SCENE. THE BRUTE AND THE)
T \Fred 'ck Dielman. J.P.Davis. " 262
-L.AMB. ******)
ilVEN FROM HOME. THE REFUGE ON )
. . > Geo. G. White. John Karst. " 270
THE MOUNTAIN SIDE. )
HOMELESS HOME. DESTITUTION AND/
D )F. O. C. Darley. Charles Speigle, " 280
9. RUM'S FOOTPRINT. DEATH AND DRINK. . F. O. C. Darley. N. Orr &* Co. " 294
10. REV. C. H. SPURGEON AND MR. GOUGH >
\F. O. C. Darley. John Karst. " 408
AT THE BEDSIDE OF THE DYING BOY. . . >
11. MEMORIES OF THE GARRET BED-)
\ F.O.C. Darky. N. Orr & Co. " 456
12. A FATHER STEALING A TESTAMENT)
FROM HIS DYING CHILD \S. G. McCutcheon. Charles S*&. " 520
13. LOOKING FOR FATHER. AN INCIDENT)
\ F.O.C. Darley. J.P.Davis. " 534
THAT LED TO THE REFORM OF A RUMSELLER \
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
LOOKING BACK OVER LIFE.
Retrospection and Reflection " The Chief End of Man" The
Secret of Happiness Experience, a Teacher The Guiding Hand
Trifling Incidents and Momentous Consequences My Father in
the English Army Famine and Despair Lying down to die
Struggling back to Life Looking for Work The Office Boy
The Shop Boy Power of Circumstances in shaping Character
Man, Arbiter of his own Fortune Knotty Problems Dr. Wm. M.
Taylor's Advice Unbelief no Refuge Boast of Napoleon Cir-
cumstances not despotic Influence of Early Training My "First
Shop" Downward Road easy Turn in the Tide "Man's Ex-
tremity, God's Opportunity " Seven Years' Night "Morning Light "
The Day Striving upwards Aim of this Volume, . Page 23
CHAPTER II.
OUR WELCOME TO ENGLAND - OLD AND NEW FRIENDS.
Revisiting England The Welcome Old Friends missed Kindness
of Dean Stanley "Sermons in Stones" Coronation Scenes
Downing Street First Address in Metropolitan Tabernacle An
Overpowering Reception Warm Heart and Open Purse Early
Dinners and Success Mercantile Life The Flowing Bowl in
Business " Brackley-Street Mission " Costermongers' Homes
War Nurses "The Gift of Giving " Children taking the Pledge
Total Abstinence pays Value of Half a Sovereign "A Jolly
Good Fellow " Rebuking Evil in High Places "Another Nail in
my Coffin" England's Lord High Chancellor His Official Dig-
nity Amazing Progress The Great Supper Temperance in
English Parlors " Persistence a Cardinal Virtue," . . .32
viii
CONTENTS. IX
CHAPTER EEL
STEEET LIFE AND SCENES IN THE WORLD'S METROPOLIS.
London Life in the Metropolis Great Contrasts Unknown
Depths "The London Market" Shops of London Streets and
Palaces Distinctive Communities A World in Miniature
Street People Cab Experience Gathering a Crowd " Vot's
hup, Cabby? " Excitements of the Streets Street Children " It
looks werry nice, Sir " Street Boys' Histories Awful Surround-
ings in Childhood " Never had a Chance " Barnabas or Barab-
bas? After the Funeral How the Boy became an Outcast
Vice and Crime The Orphan's Lot Sixteen Hundred Waifs*
Sleeping in an Iron Roller and in the Boot of an Omnibus " We
must go to Business " Money-Making Diving in Sewers
" Mud-Larks " " Wagabones and Hactors " Street Arabs
" Peeler's " Difficulties Street-Boys' Wit " Penny " Merchants
Street Wares Cheap Books " Raising the Wind," . . 55
CHAPTER IV.
HIGH AND LOW LIFE IN LONDON CABMEN AND COCKNEYS.
Cabmen of London: their Great Number "Exact Fare" "I shan't
forget the Phiz " A Dandy discomfited Wealth of London
Men who have risen " Cats'-Meat " Where the Dead Horses
go Fortunes by Sharp Practice Roguery reduced to a System
The Wine Business Tricks of Trade High Art Auctioneers
Jockeyism and Horses Bought his Own Horse Londoner's
Self-Esteem " Connoisseurship in Wines " Tricks of Professional
Beggars The Blind Man who could see " Eddicatin' Dogs "
The Lord Mayor's Show Hardships of the Lord Mayor's Office
"Who is He?" Self-made Men Lord Rothschild's Remark on
" Selling Matches " Schools of the Corporation Disrespectful
Children "'Ow is yer 'Elth?" Inconvenience of the Letter H.
The Gentleman's Story Meeting with an " Hawful Hend "
Dilemma of the Alderman's Daughter The Omnibus Conductor's
Vocabulary 71
CHAPTER V.
JUSTICE AND INJUSTICE SCENES IN THE CRIMINAL COURTS
OF LONDON.
The Old Bailey A Complete Establishment " Tried in Drawing-
Room ; hanged in Back Kitchen " A Criminal Trial, a Sensation
Drama Waiting for the Verdict Atmosphere of the Dock
CONTENTS.
Crime shown in the Face The Ragged Youth and his Counsel
Police Courts Ludicrous Scenes Women's Quarrels "The
Love-lorn Widder " Supporting Nine Children The Irishman's
Family at the Bar Disagreeing Evidence Children hired out
to Beggars The Magistrate and the Chimney Sweep Drunken-
ness the Path to the Police Court "Taking in" People Bird
Fanciers cheated Painted Sparrows Uncertainty of the Law
The Thief and his Cherries Barnacles Expense of the Civil
Service Government Leeches The Mysterious Warning Pre-
mium on Idleness " How not to do it," 84
CHAPTER VI.
LIFE AMONG COSTERMONGERS, BEGGARS, AND THIEVES
SCENES AT VICTORIA THEATRE.
The Costermongers " Picking up Crusts " Street Fellowship
Religion and Respectability Kindness appreciated Children
near Houndsditch The Coster Boy In Business for Himself
Chaffing a " Peeler " Forgiveness a Rare Trait The Coster Girl
Profound Ignorance Forced to Cheat "It's werry 'ard, isn't
it, Sir?" Shaming the Donkey Costermonger's Education
Victoria Theatre The Multitude of Boys and Girls Excitements
in the Gallery " Pull hup that 'ere Vinder Blind " " Light up the
Moon " Reception of a Tragedy Whitechapel and Butchers' Row
Scene of a Saturday Night Penny Gaff or Theatre Dirt, Smoke,
and Vulgarity " 'Ere's yer Pannj^rammar " " Legitimit Dramay "
Ratcliffe Highway Ballad Singers Street Scenes Catching
Sailors The Sailor's "Futtergruff " Beer Houses and Gin Shops
Beggars and Thieves Inside a Thieves' Lodging House The
Countryman's Adventure, 93
CHAPTER VII.
HAUNTS OF CRIME THE CITY MISSIONARIES OF LONDON
AND THEIR WORK.
London essentially cosmopolitan Byron's " Superb Menagerie "
Thackeray's " Vanity Fair " Solitude in the Crowd Munificent
Charities Cures for eveiy 111 The Aristocracy Extremes of
Character The Middle Class Homes of Virtue "The Bray of
Exeter Hall" City Missionaries Heroism in "Little Hell"
"Never rob a Parson" Training-Schools for Thieves Practising
at picking Pockets" Perverse Judgments of Perverse Natures
CONTENTS. XI
At Enmity with the World "The Gospel-Grinder" Philosophy
of a Boy-Thief Selling "Hinguns" A Rough-and-Ready Mis-
sionary " No Genus in picking a Pocket " " Fear makes Cow-
ards of us " Religion hurts the Business A Publican spoiled
Real Courage The Sermon of the Converted Sweep Parable
of the Ignorant Cabman Rough Welcome to the Preacher, . 110
CHAPTER VIII.
WAR WITH VICE TEMPERANCE WORK AMONG THE DESTI-
TUTE AND DEPRAVED.
Street-Preachers Fitness for their Work A Striking Scene
" Music with no Melody, Laughter with no Mirth " " Murder, Mur-
der, Police ! " The Street - Preacher and his Audience Plain
Preaching and its Power " Reformatory and Refuge Union "
Thirty-four Benevolent Institutions under One Control Good Work
of a Brewer's Son Lambeth Baths Hoxton Hall A Converted
Building William Noble's Mission The Blue-Ribbon Army
An Audience of Reformed Men " London Times " on Gough in
Hoxton Hall Report of the " Record " on the same Meeting
Four Great Branches of the Temperance Work United Kingdom
Alliance Temperance in Politics " Medical Temperance So-
ciety " " London Temperance Hospital " Eight Thousand Patients
in Six Years Medicine without Alcohol Results, . . .123
CHAPTER IX.
TRAGEDIES THE SHADY SIDE OF LIFE.
Power of Kindness The Scotch Minister and the "Brute " "I'll kick
you down stairs" "The most God-forsaken Wretch on Earth"
Perseverance rewarded "Clothed and in his Right Mind" The
States-Prison Convict " The Cold, Glittering Eye " The Hard
Heart melted The Mother's Influence Scene in Gray's-Inn
Lane The Excited Crowd The Tattered Group, and Death
among them The "Bullet-headed Man" "'Ere's a Swell vants
to know vat's the Matter " Alone with the Mob Striking Experi-
ence with a London Crowd of the Worst Chaisicters An Easy Es-
cape Men beyond Sympathy The Toad in the Stone The
Murderer in the Portland Prison Celebrating his Release by a
Booze Human Parasites Trading on the Benevolence and Gen-
erosity of the Soft-hearted Tramps Soup-Kitchens Getting
Something for Nothing Able-bodied " Sponges on the Gener-
ous" " Loafing Gentry " and Shirks, 135
Xll CONTENTS.
CHAPTER X.
AMONG THE POOR THE TRAFFIC IN DRINK SOCIETY'S
CURSE.
Sunday-Morning Breakfasts for Waifs Homeless Multitudes A
Strange Audience Economizing for a Drink The Man who
loved Beer His heroic Self-Defence A Pint every Two Hours
" Breakfast for Nothing " Thirty Yeai-s lost Drink, the Cause
and Curse of Poverty Soup-Kitchen in Glasgow Free Sunday-
Morning Breakfasts in Edinburgh Seventeen Hundred Victims of
Drink " We get Hot Victuals at Home " " Ducks and Green
Peas " " Good Times " turned to " Hard Times " Extravagance
of the Poor Satire of " Punch " The Irish Famine Distilleries
at Work " Irish Distress, Irish Drinking " Burton-on-Trent
Bass's Beer-Mills Bass's Annual Beer-Profits 450,000 The Drink
Bill London Paper upon Mr. Bass, M.P., .... 147
CHAPTER XI.
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY HOMELESS HOMES DARKNESS
AND LIGHT.
Homes of the London Poor Cellar Dwellings Description of a
Court in Gray's-Inn Lane King Cholera Horrible Filth
" Work in the Five Dials " Dark Pictures of Life Tour of In-
spection with Hon. Maude Stanley Visiting Low Localities My
Audience A Motley Crowd Coifee-Palace opened by Dean Stan-
leyThe Bright Side The Honest Girl in the Thieves' Court
The Newspaper- Vender and the Pocket-Book "A Real Case"
Artful Dodges The Workman's Independence " Principled agin
taking Money " Trust and Patience of the Poor Life among the
Lowly The Crippled Saint Blue Skies reflected from Muddy
Pools The Story of Thomas Wright A Devoted Son Exam-
ples of Nobility in Humble Life Demands for Human Sympa-
thy, 156
' CHAPTER XII.
OPPOSITION TO PROGRESS THE WORLD'S BENEFACTORS,
AND WHAT THEY HAVE ENDURED.
Great Discoverers and Inventors The Opposition they have met
Satire upon Dr. Jenner An Amusing Picture Employing the
Assistance of the Devil The " Swing Swang " Practice often
CONTENTS.
against Theories "Horses going to the Dogs" Liverpool &
Manchester Railway Railway Engines and Sheep's Wool Alarm-
ing Predictions The Old Coachman Heroism for the Truth's
Sake Puritanic Strictness The New-England Sabbath "Strain-
ing at a Gnat " Drunk on the Sabbath Whistling for a Dog
Wife-thrashing and Sabbath-breaking True Liberty and Sunday
Trains Testimonies to the Christian .Sabbath: Macaulay, Black-
stone, Adam Smith, Webster, Theodore Parker, &c. Holiday not
Holy Day Jurists and the Sabbath Physicians and the Sabbath
Statesmen and the Sabbath The Old Book Liberty under
Law, ............ 167
CHAPTER XIII.
MANLINESS AND MORAL PRINCIPLE INDUSTRY VERSUS
IDLENESS.
False Ideas of Manliness Physical Strength no Test Lord Bacon a
Swindler Fast Living, cowardly Horse-Racing and Prize-Fight-
ing Manliness is Godliness False Opinions scorn Labor " Only
a Mechanic " The Fashion of Useless People " Only a Third-
class Carriage " Story concerning Lady Charlotte Guest The
Cinder-hole Labor and Etiquette Idle Men mischievous The
Dandy Consequences of a Useless Life Career of Beau Brum-
mell The Fop in a Breach-of-Promise Suit Influence of Society
upon us Example better than Precept Value of a Noble Life
Ministers and the Half-price Genius no Substitute for Moral Prin-
ciple Burns's Perverted Genius The Painter Haydon, . . 178
CHAPTER XIV.
HAPPINESS AND TRUE HEROISM GOLD, WHAT IT DOES
AND WHAT IT DOES NOT BRING.
Signing away Liberty False Ideas of Happiness Rothschild John
Jacob Astor A Girl's Idea of Perfect Happiness The Snow-
blocked Train Lord Chesterfield's Confession Irishman's Com-
plaint of the Moon "If" The Two Buckets Sir John Sinclair
and the Laborer "A New Way to pay Old Debts" The History
of Misers Experience of a Millionnaire " The Happiest Fellows
in the World " Anecdote of John Wilson Happiness among the
Poor Lord Braco and the Farthing The Celebrity and his Hat
The Burden of a Debt The Clergyman and the Collection Dodging
Creditors Indebtedness degrades Extravagance Church Debts
Sacrifice for Others Moral Heroism Victory over Self, . 187
XIV CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XV.
KNOWLEDGE AND CURIOSITY ABSURD BLUNDERS AND
LAUGHABLE MISTAKES.
What is Knowledge? Ignorance with a Library Wisdom is applied
Knowledge George Cruikshank the Simon Pure Blunders in
Spelling " Preshus Sole" Laughable Mistakes The Deacon
who thought he could preach Anecdote of Robert Hall Self-
knowledge and Physical Health Knowing Others "Brass" no
Test of Character Misjudging Others Knowledge through His-
tory Goodness Mental Cultivation and Moral Corruption In-
quisitiveness " Funnels of Conversation " How a Man lost his
Leg Anecdote of John Randolph Misapplied Labor Dinner
and Duel How to collect a Crowd Van Amburg's Lion Feats
of Legerdemain Sir Charles Napier and the Indian Juggler Ig-
norance and Superstition Whimsical Vagaries Senseless " Omens "
Sowing for the Harvest Immortality revealed De Quincey
upon the Present Faith a Necessity The Story of Poor Joe, 202
CHAPTER XVI.
COMEDIES THE HUMOROUS SIDE OF LIFE.
The Art of Putting Things Illustrative Anecdotes Macklin at the
Theatre The Smoker on a Coach Mr. Parker's Preaching Man-
aging Others The Scolding Schoolmaster The Inhuman Teacher
Appeals to Honor better than Brutality The Model Principal
The College President's Lecture on Spontaneous Combustion The
College President guarding his New Roost The Midnight Ride
Acknowledgment of Errors Bonnie Christie Matter-of-fact Peo-
ple " Six-penny Caliker " No Devils ever cast out of a Man
The Quaker's Answer The Physician and the Stone-Mason A
Digression, but not an Argument Henderson the Actor Differ-
ence between Settling down and Settling up Wit of Dr. Samuel
Cox The Conceited Count Practical Jokes My Sacramento Ac-
quaintance, 225
CHAPTER XVII.
VICTIMS OF DRINK SCENES FROM LIFE.
Beer as a Beverage Beer Drunkenness among Women Great Brit-
ain's Curse " Doctored " Beer The Inside of a London Gin-Palace
-What is "All Sorts"? Kinahan's L. L. The Landlord The
Bar- Maid The Customers Life in the Bar-Room Disgraceful
CONTENTS. XV
Scenes " Fair Play " What the " London Times " says A " Gen-
teel" Gin-Palace Rev. Win. Arnot on the Liquor Traffic The
Fratricide A Hardened Woman The Gambler's Suicide A Hor-
rible Sight Suicide of McConnell The Blood-Stains on the Floor
The Meanest Man in the World The Rumseller's Bargain Result
of the Trade Dr. Guthrie's Testimony That of Canon Farrar
" Fruits of the Traffic " A Ghastly Story of the Prisoner at Dart-
mouth The Convict's Story Rum and Murder Remorse Wait-
ing for Death, 242
CHAPTER XVIII.
DESPAIR AND DEATH STORIES OF RUINED HOMES AND
BROKEN HEARTS.
The Prisoner's Testimony How Prisons are filled The Offspring of
Drink Appalling Statistics The Inhuman Father Selling a Child
for Two Pairs of Stockings Getting drunk with the Proceeds The
Drunken Mother and her Dying Children An Affecting Stoiy
Sufferings in the Best Circles A Terrible Stoiy The Brutal Hus-
band and his Dead Wife Horrible Brutality Truth stranger than
Fiction The Clergyman's Suicide The Lawyer's Despair and
Death Rum unmakes the Gentleman A Dreadful Domestic Scene
The Beaten and Disfigured Wife Destruction of Property The
Mountaineer's Home Rum-Madness Driven from Home The
Night on the Mountain Terrible Destitution and Sufferings
The Desolate Home Enticed to a Grog-Shop A Drunken Sot
The Winter's Night Eaten by Swine, 259
CHAPTER XIX.
FOOTPRINTS OF RUM STORIES OF RUINED HOMES AND
BROKEN HEARTS (CONTINUED).
A Cry from Connecticut Drunkenness worse than Death Five Days
with Delirium Tremens Hope deferred The Drunkard's Adopted
Child The Murdered Babe The Wife shielding the Murderer, only
to be murdered herself The Murderer's Suicide Last Scenes in the
Domestic Tragedy The Drunkard and his Dead Wife The Drunken
Clergyman preaching Old Sermons Stealing Postage-Stamps to buy
Rum Another Clergyman ruined by Drink An Unfeeling Father
Stealing his Little Boy's Shoes to buy Drink The Drunkard's Cry
Pity for the Victims A Blasted Life The Drunkard's "Ode to
the Departing Year" "What of the Ship?" The Redeemed
Man's Narrative Evils of Social Drinking Bitter Recollections
Maddening Desire for Drink What is to be done? The Dram-
Shops of Birmingham Sunday Drinking Terrible Results, . 275
XVI CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XX.
"SECRETS" AND "TRICKS" OF THE LIQUOR TRADE A
GLANCE BEHIND THE SCENES.
Rum is Rum the World over Drunken Mohammedan is said to have
"gone to Jesus" Speech of Canon Farrar Ludicrous Side of the
Question The Connoisseurs of Liquors Wine- Drinkers hum-
bugged The Secret of Success in the Manufacture of Liquors
Ingredients How "Imported Cognac Brandy" is made How
Schiedam Schnapps and Common Gin are made Champagne Re-
ceipt " Native Catawba Wines " made without Grapes " Fine Old
Port" Receipts for making Porter "Ale" good to sleep on; how
made To the Uninitiated How to bottle neatly Sugar of Lead
as a Sweetener Filthiness no Hindrance to the Drinker The
Effect of these Revelations The Slaves of Fashion, . . . 290
CHAPTER XXI.
SOME OF MY EXPERIENCES WITH BRAZEN-FACED PEOPLE.
The Life of a Public Man Peculiar Annoyances Kind Treatment of
the Press " Interviewing " An Unfortunate Little Notice "John
B. Gough lying dangerously ill " Mistakes in reporting Lectures
Amusing Specimen Applications for Help Begging Letter- Writ-
ers Tramps preferable to these Extracts from Begging-Letters
Young Man's Strange Request for Fifteen Hundred Dollars Re-
quest for One Thousand Dollars What the Lord is reported to have
said One Thousand Dollars wanted to educate two Nieces "I am
taken in " Notes and Promises to Pay A New Method A Cu-
rious Plan of Professionals Begging " Mediums " Letter purport-
ing to come from my Mother An Incident in Scotland, . . 304
CHAPTER XXH.
AMUSING EXPERIENCES WITH LETTER-WRITERS, BEGGARS,
AND ASPIRANTS FOR FAME.
Letter- Writers and their Wants A Lady "wishes to get married;"
full Particulars Specimen of a Class of Oddities What "the
Simple Son of a Carpenter " desires An Unappreciated Benefactor
of his Country A "Big Thing" to be accomplished Applications
for Old Lectures The Ambitious Young Man with a "Hobby"
An Aspirant for Fame Newspaper Man wishes two "Worn-out"
Lectures Request for a "Moddle" Lecture Receipt for a "Mod-
die" Lecture A Few Hints to the Ambitious Requests for Auto-
CONTENTS.
graphs Levying Black-mail Take Warning Dr. Chalmers on
Autographs Demand for Photographs " Very like a Bore " Not
limited to Friends Comical Arrangements of these Pictures Side
by Side with the Gorilla 315
CHAPTER XXHI.
UNENDURABLE BORES MY EXPERIENCES WITH THEM
AFFECTATION AND " STYLE."
A Class of Bores An Aggravating Case Its Sequel Incident of a
Lecture Two Hingham Callers The Brilliant Young Man in a
Joking Mood The Conundrum, " Canaan " " Old Dog Tray "
President Woolsey and the Joking Boy Cultivation of Affectation
Indifference Imitating Enthusiasm Affectation turning into a
"Lithp" Unstylish Persons in Style Tarts " Fourpence a-Piece,
Ma'am " Late-Comers in Church and Lecture " Who art thou? "
An Officer of Her Majesty's Service Making Puns Dealing
with the Superlative in Conversation Common Mistakes Petty
Expressions " Lor', how cunning ! " Exaggerations in Speech
Trivial Faults mar the Enjoyments of Life, .... 328
CHAPTER XXTV.
THE SPEAKER AND HIS AUDIENCE ANECDOTES AND INCI-
DENTS.
Dread of an Audience Personal Physical Suffering Mutual Sympa-
thy required Incident in the Church of Dr. Joseph Parker Efforts
at Reading a Hymn Experience with President Finney at Aber-
deen The Minister's " Supplication " Involuntary Selection of Per-
sons in every Audience My Feelings on the Platform Yivid Rec-
ollections My Stolid Hearer Method of Preparing Lectures
Five Thousand Temperance Addresses in Seventeen Years Inter-
view with the Actor Macready His Method My Early Experi-
ence with Books " Rollins' Ancient History," and " Putnam's Li-
brary " My Earlier Addresses Gathering and Using Materials
Incident at Rhinebeck Illustration from Niagara Falls Taking
an Awful Risk before an Audience Taking down the Scaffolding
from my Temple An Interesting Experience " Gough is a Story-
teller " A Silly Charge The Wonderful Story " Gough a Re-
tailer of Anecdotes " My Sense of the Ridiculous Value of Inci-
dents, 341
1
XV111 CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXV.
WHAT OPPOSITION WE MEET FALSE CHARGES AND MIS-
REPRESENTATIONS.
" Gough not a Thinker " Unexplainable Knowledge Plagiarism
and its Meaning Satire on Plagiarism of " The Little Busy
B ee " Gough's Apostrophe to Water, and that by Paul Denton
History of its Inception Reply to a Shameless Attack In-
creased Consumption of Beer Our Pullman Cars and Liquor-
drinking Increase of Intemperance in Thirty Years Worces-
ter as an Example 1843 and 1880 Washingtonianism Drink-
ing among Ministers Drinking among Women Murder as ex-
cited by Beer Hereditary Effects of Beer-drinking Paper cir-
culated by Life Insurance Men Reported Interview with the Oxford
Students The True Story, and the Scene The Happy Conclu-
sion 356
CHAPTER XXVI.
ON THE PLATFORM PERSONAL EXPERIENCES AS A PUBLIC
SPEAKER.
The Judge's Speech Power of his Example " Give it to him, Old
Man " Self-Possession necessary under Embarrassments Man in
Faneuil Hall, and Story for his Benefit Woman and her Crying
Child "Did he lose his Eggs?" One Handkerchief for Two
Power of Audience over the Speaker The Man with the Newspaper
How the whispering Young Ladies were stopped Cultivation of
the Voice Power of Sarcasm The Donkey at Snowdon Sar-
casm of O'Connell on Benjamin Disraeli John Randolph and the
"Vacant" Seat Tom Marshall's "Demijohn" all but the Straw
Personal Experience under Trying Circumstances " Here's one of
your Cigars, Mr. Gough " Quotations from Locke and Walter Scott
which were not Quotations, 370
CHAPTER XXVII.
MEN I HAVE KNOWN PULPIT AND OTHER ORATORS OF
GREAT BRITAIN.
Public Speakers Lectures I have heard Personal Experience as to
Public Occasions Ministerial and other Acquaintances Thomas
Guthrie, D.D. The Audience Guthrie's Philanthropy His Ap-
pearance in the Pulpit Not a "Weeping Preacher" My first
CONTENTS.
Impressions Power of his Utterance William Arnot, D.D.
Appearance and Manner " Figs of Thistles " Newman Hall, D.D.
Lincoln Tower of Christ Church Mr. Martin of Westminster Chapel
Strange Texts " Man of One Book " Cowper's Model Preacher
Some of my Chairmen Lord Shaftesbnry John Bright Bright's
Speech at Henry Darby's Feast Sir Fitzroy Kelley : his Style and
Manner Joseph Parker, D.D. Immense Power Pulpit Apolo-
getic Manners out of Place Dr. Parker at Home, and as a Preacher
First Impressions of the Preacher Vividness of Description
" God's Testimony against Sin " Sins of Presumption Where do
Texts come from? 384
CHAPTER XXVIH.
MEN I HAVE KNOWN (CONTINUED) SPURGEON AMERICAN
CLERGYMEN.
C. H. Spurgeon: Early History His First Sermon "Who is this
Spurgeon? " Park Chapel and Exeter Hall The Metropolitan Tab-
ernacle Publication of Fifteen Hundred Sermons The Man a
Miracle Public Institutions for Missions and Benevolence The
Beautiful Work of Mrs. Spurgeon Pedigree of Pulpit Story Min-
isters must be " Thick-Skinned " Anecdotes Spurgeon a Total- Ab-
stainer Boys' Orphanage at Stockwell Reception of Mr. Spurgeon
The Little Consumptive True Greatness Sources of Power as a
Preacher The Book of Books Comments on Proverbs Tale-
Bearers and Dissemblers Mr. Spurgeon and the Dog Edward
Norris Kirk, D.D. Oratory and Elocution Our Last Interview
Elocution sometimes a Hindrance George H. Gould, D.D. Rev.
David O. Mears William M. Taylor, D.D. Power with the Script-
ures Helpful Themes Theodore L. Cuyler, D.D. Preacher and
Correspondent, 400
CHAPTER XXIX.
OLD-TIME AND MODERN PREACHERS WORDS WITH AND
WITHOUT SENSE.
Sheridan Knowles Varied Pulpit Ministrations Old-time Discourses
Quaint old Books Travesty on the Little Busy Bee The Pla-
giarized Sermon Sermon on the Slothful Man " Awake Pesaltery-
tree and Harp" "Who were the Patriarchs?" Grandiloquent
Oratory Exordium upon Intemperance " Wrecked on the Tem-
pestuous Sea" The baneful Upas-Tree The Drunkard's Career
XX CONTENTS.
on the Broad Road Peroration The Nobleman's Speech and Ob-
servations Speech of an Agitator " Bruce the King of England "
" Battles of Greasy and Potters " " Pass round the Hat," . 421
CHAPTER XXX.
CHUECH SERVICES IRREVERENCE, BUFFOONERY, AND CANT.
Ridiculous Side of Negro Preaching Absurd Mistakes The Planta-
tion Preacher " Glad Tidings and Hallelujah " The Dirty Boy
Church Services Singing in Mr. Spurgeon's Tabernacle ; and in
Dr. Parker's Church The D. D.'s Stratagem The Scotchman's
Experience " Don't sing, Sir " Hymns of my Boyhood Muti-
lated Hymns Irreverence of Hymnology Revivalists' Buffoonery
The Name above every Name Christian Irreverence Pious
Cant More Puritanism needed The Christian Ideal and its Oppo-
site Possible Future Pulpit Notices, 431
CHAPTER XXXI.
MY VIEWS ON THE TEMPERANCE QUESTION.
Drunkenness a Sin and a Disease Is moderate Drinking a Sin? My
First Intoxication Rum and Water in a Temperance Meeting
"Gentlemanly Inebriation" The Intoxicated Boy Pathology of
Drunkenness Testimony of Dr. Richardson Destructive Effects
of Alcohol on the Mind Statement of Joseph Cook Legend of
the Triple Choice The Sin is in the Cause, and not the Effect
Statements of Wm. Arnot, D.D. Two Ways of keeping a Nation
sober Total Abstinence as an Unfailing Remedy Prevention
better than Cure The Giant's Hand Drunkenness unnatural
Testimony of Distinguished Physicians Case of the Hon. E. C. Han-
negan His former Useful Life The Terrible Fall and Dissipation
The Murder, ... 443
CHAPTER XXXII.
TEMPERANCE AND "THE GRACE OF GOD" MY OWN EXPE-
RIENCE AND THAT OF OTHERS.
Is Reform possible without Religion? Grounds of Appeal Total
Abstinence does not renew Nature My First Pledge without "the
Help of God" The Memory of the Garret Bedroom My Second
CONTENTS. XXI
Pledge under the Grace of God Does the Grace of God take away
the Appetite? Poison kills the Christian and the Hottentot The
Grace of God includes Voluntary Total Abstinence Is the Drunk-
ard's Appetite left? My Disgust at the Drink no Proof that Appe-
tite is gone Communion Wine ; its Effect Wines in Cooking
Religion removes the Desire, but not the Appetite Self-Deception
on this Point Thrilling Letter of a Clergyman The Converted
Rum-Seller's Experience The Fallen Minister The only Safety is
in Total Abstinence " The Pledge and the Cross," . . . 455
CHAPTER XXXIII.
MODERATE DRINKING AND TOTAL ABSTINENCE.
The Moderate Drinker The Moderate Drinker of Stockholm Gough
and his Moderate-drinking Friend Dr. B. W. Richardson on Mod-
erate Drinking Alcohol not included in the Scheme of Life The
Most Helpless Period passed without it The Four Stages of Life
Voice of Science Stimulation Harmful to Health Foods and Alco-
hol "The Alcoholic Stages" "The Devil and the Peacock"
Wine and Civilization Wine- drinking Nations Wine only Dirty
Water Total Abstinence for the Sake of Others Abusing the
" Moderate Drinker " A Dinner without Wine The Right, the
Wrong, the Doubtful A Touching Story The Idolized Son Wine
at New Year's Calls Misnamed Friends, 470
CHAPTER XXXIV.
TEMPERANCE AND THE BIBLE MY VIEWS ON THE SCRIPT-
URE QUESTION INCIDENTS.
Assistance demanded from all Sides Charity The Truth our Weapon
Scamp's Tavern " ' The Seven Last Plagues ' for Sale here "
Specimen of Liquor-Sellers' Work The Wine of Scripture and of
Commerce Conflicting Authorities One of the " Doubtful Dispu-
tations " Dr. Norman Ker's Statement The Hieroglyphical Argu-
1 ment Assumed Biblical Commands against Strong Drink Dr.
Samuel H. Cox and J. Fenimore Cooper upon Bible Miracles Absa-
lom's Hair What Fish swallowed Jonah Good Men who endeavor
to sanction Drinking How to answer these Men Advice to the
Reformed Man Let Arguments alone The Outcast's Conversion
Many Churches unsafe for the Reformed Drunkard, . . 481
XX11 CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXXV.
WAR WITH DRINK TEMPERANCE ORGANIZATIONS WOM-
AN'S WORK AND INFLUENCE.
The National Temperance Society Women's Christian Temperance
Union The Blue and Red Ribbon Armies American Temperance
Society Growth of the Work Washingtonian Movement Grow-
ing Unpopularity of Washingtonianism Favorite Epithets "We
don't want any Religion in the Movement " Poor Tom Marshall
Danger to Reform Clubs Sympathy demanded for the Lost Give
the Reformed Man Work The Temperance Hall a Place of Safety
The Dirt and Discomforts of some so-called Temperance Hotels
Personal Experience The "Model" and "Central" Coffee Houses
of Philadelphia The Medical Question Rum by the Keg Physi-
cian giving Poison for Health Heroism and Fanaticism " Stand to
your Principle," 494
CHAPTER XXXVI.
STRIKING EXPERIENCES.
Compensations of Old Age This Young Man The Old Warrior
Amusing Peculiarities of Public Life The Liverpool Barber " 'Enery,
sweep up this 'Air " Great Changes Reforms Improvements
Children are Forces An Important Question Casket and Jewel
Testimonial presented Boys' Work Twenty-five Years ago The
Results Drunkard's Child " My Little Testament " Testament
sold for Whiskey " God be merciful! " " Evil Habits " Custom
and Habit No Man lost on a Straight Road A Good Resolution
Hugh Miller 508
CHAPTER XXXVII.
LAST GLEANINGS.
My First Visit to the Theatre Booth and Hamblin "Apostate," and
" Review " The Old Bowery My Passion for the Stage Interview
with a Manager Comic Song at the Chatham Persevering Efforts
to be an Actor The Summit of Ambition The Old Lion of Boston
Charles Thorn Charles Eaton " Roll him in and tap him "
Tinsel and Sham My Disenchantment Thanks that my Way was
blocked Power to overcome Coleridge A Good Impulse
" Art thee crazy, Lad? " The First Sermon Paying Debts like a
Christian The Last Race Retrospection Contrasts Lessons
learned Encouragements -Last Words, .... 526
SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW.
CHAPTER I.
LOOKING BACK OVER LITE.
Retrospection and Reflection " The Chief End of Man " The
Secret of Happiness Experience, a Teacher The Guiding Hand
Trifling Incidents and Momentous Consequences My Father in
the English Army Famine and Despair Lying down to die
Straggling back to Life Looking for Work The Office Boy
The Shop Boy Power of Circumstances in shaping Character
Man, Arbiter of his own Fortune Knotty Problems Dr. Wm. M.
Taylor's Advice Unbelief no Refuge Boast of Napoleon Cir-
cumstances not despotic Influence of Early Training My "First
Shop " Downward Road easy Turn in the Tide " Man's Ex-
tremity, God's Opportunity " Seven Years' Night " Morning Light "
The Day Striving upwards Aim of this Volume, . Page 23
I HEN" the noon of life is passed, and
the shadows begin to lengthen, as
the bustle and worry and excite-
ment are less active, we look back
and ask the question, "Have we
lived the threescore years ? " It
is worth while to remember, as
years increase, that our lives are not
measured by the years we have existed,
but by the years we have lived. The time that has
been misapplied, devoted to mere self-indulgence, to
the gratification of unworthy appetites, is lost, and
23
24 PATCHWORK.
time lost is not lived; so that the question comes,
How much have I lived? not, How many years have
I existed? Fuller says, "He lives long that lives
well." Seneca says, " To live well is a greater benefit
than life itself."
There is a right ring in the good old question and
answer in the Catechism " What is the chief end
of man? To glorify God and to enjoy Him forever."
If we could comprehend at our starting-point more
fully all that is involved in " glorifying God," that it
is to be in entire harmony not only with eternal wis-
dom and beneficent law, but especially with their
Source and Author, surely our lives might be filled
to the brim with happy usefulness, and move on with
no more friction or jar than do the processions of the
seasons.
With the conviction that often the experience of
years may be helpful to the young, and hoping that
the reflections and recollections of a life that has been
for many years so fully among men may be profitable
to those who have all of life before them, I venture
to gather the incidents and experiences of these years,
and, without apology, present them to those who may
choose to accept them. A writer has said, " There
are few minds but might furnish some instruction and
entertainment out of their scraps, their odds and ends
of thought. They who cannot weave a uniform web
may at least produce a piece of patchwork which may
be useful, and not without a charm of its own." So
I venture on my patchwork by jotting down obser-
vations, thoughts, and conclusions, gathered from
wayside opportunities and sources in the course of
a long experience.
Shakspeare asserts : " There is a divinity that shapes
MY FATHER'S SEVERE EXPERIENCE. 25
our ends, rough-hew them as we will." Canon Farrar
says : " The overruling providence of God is so clearly
marked in the progress of human events that the
Christian hardly needs any further proof that there
is a hand that guides." More incisive yet are the
wisest man's words : "A man's heart deviseth his way,
but the Lord directeth his steps." All our personal
experiences reveal to us the fact of an overruling
Providence; that we are not the creatures of chance.
A very trifling incident may change the whole course
of our lives.
During a retreat of the English army, when closely
pursued by Marshal Soult, about the year 1809, my
father, then about thirty years of age, was a soldier
in the Fifty-second Light Infantry. He had been
slightly wounded in the chest, and though his wound
was not considered fatal, it was painful and irritating.
The army had suffered fearfully from exposure, fam-
ine, and the heavy fatigues of an active campaign. I
well remember my father saying to me, w John, you
will never know what hunger is till you feel the two
sides of your stomach grinding together." In that
campaign, men mad with hunger fought like wolves
over the half-decayed hoof of a bullock; and often
when one of these poor animals, overcome with weak-
ness and starvation, was staggering as if about to
fall, the ready knife was applied to the throat, and
the fainting soldiers, eagerly catching the blood in
their hands, and hardly waiting for it to congeal, made
it take the place of food. In this retreat, the Fifty-
second Regiment became to use the American term
demoralized ; and while they staggered on, my
father threw himself out of the ranks, under the
shadow of a large rock, to die : he could go no
26 FIRST THOUGHT OF AMERICA.
farther. Lying there, he took from his inner pocket a
hymn-book (which I have to-day, with all the marks
of its seventy years upon it) , and began to read the
hymn in which is the verse
" When in the solemn hour of death
I own Thy just decree,
Be this the prayer of my last breath :
O Lord, remember me."
He must die it seemed inevitable though far from
home, in a strange land. He was a Christian, and
endeavored to prepare himself for the change. Sud-
denly a large bird of prey, with a red neck growing
out of a ruffle of feathers, came swooping along,
almost brushing my father's body with its wings;
then circling up, he alighted on the point of rock,
and turned his blood-red eye on his intended victim.
As my father saw that horrible thing watching, and
waiting to tear him in pieces even before life was ex-
tinct, it so filled him with horror and disgust that he
cried, " I cannot endure this : it is too terrible. When
I am unable to drive that fearful thing away, it will
be tearing my flesh. I cannot endure it!" He rose
to his feet and fell, then crawled and struggled
away, till at length he crept into a poor hut, found
safety, and soon after joined his regiment. Though
he was very, very ill after that frightful episode, he
recovered, and died in 1871, at the remarkable age of
ninety-four years.
I enjoy tracing some of these experiences in my
own life. When a boy doing errands for a family
about to emigrate to America, the lady, who was in a
very good humor, said, "John, how would you like to
go to America with us?" It was said jestingly, yet
POSSESSION OF A WILL. 27
that playful word grew into the decision that made
me an American citizen.
In 1832 or 1833, two boys sought employment at
the same establishment, in the same week. One was
duly engaged as errand-boy in the office, the other
as errand-boy in the bookbindery. The first was
thrown into good society, among refined, Christian
people, and brought under restraining influences. The
other was surrounded by an entirely different atmos-
phere nothing elevating, very little that was "pure,
lovely, or of good report." The office-boy, encouraged
by good advisers, grew in the right direction, obtained
an education, became a minister, a professor in a col-
lege, a celebrated Greek scholar, and died leaving
behind him a splendid reputation. The shop-boy,
with no restraining influences, naturally impulsive
and yielding, went sadly astray, until he became as
near an outcast as a young man could well become,
with only a limited education, while all the natural
powers God had given him were running to waste.
For years he groped in darkness and almost despair.
One of these became the Rev. Dr. McClintockj the
other is writing these lines to-day.
It is true, as the prophet records and we would
not have it otherwise that " the way of man is not
in himself; " yet it is undoubtedly a fact that a man is
in a great degree the arbiter of his own fortune. I
know I have a will to do, or not to do. Locke says,
" We are born with powers and faculties capable of
almost anything, but it is the exercise of these powers
and faculties that gives us ability and skill in any-
thing." "We are conscious of possessing a will that
can consent or refuse to exercise these faculties.
I know that here we trench on a great mystery,
28 "l MAKE CIRCUMSTANCES."
God's plan and man's will a mystery we have nei-
ther skill nor ability to unravel. I remember once,
when confronting some of these knotty problems,
such as the origin of evil, and the eternit} 7 ' of sin,
I went to my dear friend Dr. Wm. M. Taylor, of ~New
York, and asked him to give me some light. Putting
his hand on my shoulder, he said, " John, lay these
things on the shelf. We shall see light by and by,
when He shall reveal to us the deep things of His
wisdom." So I have come to the conclusion that my
great aim must be to bring my will into submission
to His, in perfect harmony; believing that all I do not
know now I shall know in His right time, who knows
the end from the beginning. I therefore seek to* put
away all that childish rubbish that hedges up a belief
in what I cannot understand ; inasmuch as the insolu-
ble perplexities of unbelief are far greater than any
that hover about faith and trust in God.
Napoleon Bonaparte, when intoxicated with suc-
cess and at the height of his power, is reported to
have said, " I make circumstances." Let Moscow,
Elba, Waterloo, and St. Helena, that rocky isle where
he was caged until he fretted his life away, testify to
his utter helplessness in his humiliating downfall.
We cannot create circumstances, but we can make
the best of them when they come. Their power is
not despotic, and, by God's help and our own en-
deavor, we may make them our servants. How much
of the success or failure in life depends on the man-
ner in which we are able to deal with the circum-
stances of our early life! Cowper has written that
" The color of our whole life is generally such as the
first three or four years in which we are our own mas-
ter, make it." The results of early training, reading,
MIRACLE OF MOEXING. 29
study, self-control or indulgence, are rarely overcome.
In very early life, Little's poems were Lord Byron's
favorite study. " Heigho ! " he exclaimed in a letter
dated 1820, " I believe all the mischief I have ever
done or sung, has been owing to that confounded
book." As I look back to the early years of my life,
when at the age of fourteen I was my own master,
so far as the control of my leisure was involved,
I attribute much of the influence leading me in the
wrong direction to the surroundings of that first shop
into which I entered. Mark, I do not wish to excuse
or palliate any wrong into which I drifted, but simply
to state the fact that a boy, coming fresh from the
country and the restraints of home, untainted, igno-
rant of the world, and " green," I was brought into
daily companionship with men acquainted with, and
many of them adepts in the vices of a large city.
There I saw the mystery of wickedness; there I
learned to like the drink; there I became soiled;
there I took the wrong direction, and thus seeds
were sown that brought a bitter fruit and a wretched
harvesting. I will not linger on this page, only to say
that I began the drifting into darkness, hopelessness,
and x the sunless gloom of moral night; but "there
is a tide in the affairs of men which, taken at the
flood, leads on to fortune," and a kind Providence
was bringing me unconsciously to it. " Man's extrem-
ity is God's opportunity ; " and in the darkest hour of
my life, no light, no sun, no stars, not a gleam of
hope, no expectation of a change, only a dreary and
restless waiting for the end, the miracle of morn-
ing came to me, beginning with the dawn.
When the night has reached its limit, and its visions
are broken, how great is the change made by the first
30 SUNLIGHT ON THE HILLS.
line of morning light ! Most things are more clearly
defined by the light; but in the experience of many
the welcome and unwelcome visitations of night have
only vanishing outlines, and lose shape as morning
grows into day.
Thirty-eight years ago ushered in the dawn of
such a morning to me. The night had been one
of seven years' length, and filled with murky condi-
tions; but though clouds were not absent from my
horizon, the break of a new day had certainly come,
and a total change in the direction of my life's jour-
ney must be taken. Henceforth, though the path
promised to be steep, I resolved to reach higher
levels, and get away from the poisoned air and
treacherous ooze of that deep morass into which the
seven years' night had led me. After this, to feel the
ground firm under foot; to see the sunlight touching
the summits of the hills of life; to have conscious-
ness of growing purpose to reach these safe dis-
tances, in the strength of the Mighty Hand reached
down to help, is best comparable to the opening
morning of a new day.
Thus for all these years, though I have seen storms
and sometimes cloudy skies, in difficulty and danger,
in changes various and experiences manifold, it has
never been dark: in the gloomiest hour there has
been a consciousness of sunlight beyond the cloud.
Though sorely tried, I have never despaired. In
weakness I have experienced the truth that " He
giveth strength to the feeble ; " and I have the con-
sciousness of having been enabled to help some to
a better life, to encourage some desponding hearts,
and to lift up some that were sinking. For this I
am most devoutly thankful, and put forth these expe-
DESIRE TO HELP OTHERS. 31
riences, observations, and opinions, hoping that the
cause of truth and right may thereby be advanced.
I pretend to no literary ability, and am aware that
I am more at home on the platform than with the
pen. Thus I pay little regard to the " unities," or the
chronology. My book will be somewhat desultory,
one thing leading on to another. My aim is to inter-
est, perhaps amuse, and, above all, to help.
CHAPTER H.
OUK WELCOME TO ENGLAND. OLD AND NEW
FEIENDS.
Revisiting England The Welcome Old Friends missed Kindness
of Dean Stanley "Sermons in Stones" Coronation Scenes
Downing Street First Address in Metropolitan Tabernacle An
Overpowering Reception Warm Heart and Open Purse Early
Dinners and Success Mercantile Life The Flowing Bowl in
Business " Brackley-Street Mission" Costermongers' Homes
War Nurses "The Gift of Giving " Children taking the Pledge
Total Abstinence pays Value of Half a Sovereign "A Jolly
Good Fellow" Rebuking Evil in High Places "Another Nail in
my Coffin" England's Lord High Chancellor His Official Dig-
nity Amazing Progress The Great Supper Temperance in
English Parlors " Persistence a Cardinal Virtue," . . .32
>EELING the necessity of rest, after
thirty-six years of almost unbroken hard
work, I determined to revisit England,
see my old and valued friends, accept
the numerous offers of hospitality, and
spend perhaps two years in Europe. In
answer to repeated and urgent requests, I
proposed giving thirty lectures while in
England, and to pass some months on the
Continent. So on the 10th of July, 1878, Mrs. Gough
and myself sailed from New York for Liverpool, two
of our nieces accompanying us.
On our landing, we were met by a committee of
the " National Temperance League," of the " United
Kingdom Band of Hope Union," of the " Good Tem-
32
PLEASANT RECEPTION. 33
plars," who presented me with a beautifully engrossed
address of welcome; and a deputation from the "Liv-
erpool Temperance Union," and from the " Liverpool
Popular Central Association." My dear, good friend
William Logan, who went home to heaven on the last
day I spent in Glasgow, came from Scotland to greet
us, and John M. Cook, Esq., rendered us valuable
assistance.
It had been pleasantly arranged that there should
be a social gathering of the friends to meet me, before
commencing my public work. By the kind permis-
sion of the Dean and Chapter, a garden party was
given in the College Gardens of Westminster Abbey.
It was a peculiarly gratifying occasion, especially con-
sidering the high social position of those who gave
me their greeting. The American minister, Hon. Mr.
Welch, was present; also several dignitaries of the
Church, some members of Parliament, and a splendid
representation from the different temperance organ-
izations.
Tea and coffee were served in a marquee, and dur-
ing refreshments the band of the Royal Greenwich
Hospital performed a selection of music. It was a
most enjoyable affair. Many of our dear old friends,
and many new ones, were there; yet we missed sev-
eral familiar faces that our hearts yearned again to
greet. But I will not dwell on this very pleasant
episode, and only say that after speeches by Samuel
Bowly, Esq., his Excellency the American minister,
Canon Duckworth, Dr. Richardson, Canon Ellison,
Samuel Morley, Esq., M.P., Dean Stanley spoke a few
words of welcome, and offered to conduct us through
the abbey, which he did to our great delight. That
beautiful garden, the smooth lawn, the surroundings
3
34 WESTMINSTER ABBEY.
on one side the gray towers of the venerable abbey,
and on the other the clock-tower and Victoria tower
of the Parliament houses the whole scene, so
charming, will never fade from my memory.
Any attempt to describe Westminster Abbey wonld
be presumptuous, following the many who have so
eloquently succeeded. If it is true that there are
" sermons in stones," and that there are, we have the
authority of Shakespeare, where shall we go for a
better sermon than to Westminster Abbey? standing,
as it does, gray and hoary and majestic, rich with the
memories of the past, and consecrated with the bones
and ashes and reputations of the great! All that
Britain contained or contains of the illustrious or
good, of genius or culture, have trodden its aisles, have
come hither to worship, to admire, to mourn, or, it
may be, after life's fitful fever, to sleep. Here maj-
esty, amidst pomp and splendor, has assumed the
crown, and, amidst equal pomp and circumstance, has
laid it down; here the nation has mourned the bard
whose verse is as immortal as her tongue ; and here
she has wept over her greatest statesmen dead.
In the neighborhood of the abbey we are in the
centre of English civilization, and near the brain of
government that Downing Street from which Eng-
land, Scotland, Ireland, ay, and lands far remote,
peopled by alien races, professing alien creeds, speak-
ing alien tongues, are ruled. Royalty resides in close
proximity; and in ermined gown and solemn wig and
official pomp the proud peers of Britain assemble to
legislate, not a stone's throw from this sacred shrine.
It was arranged to commence my public work at
the Metropolitan Tabernacle (Rev. Mr. Spurgeon's)
on Tuesday, September 22d. After spending a week
FIRST LECTURE. 35
with our dear friends Mr. and Mrs. George Brown,
of Hough ton, Hunts, we started for the Continent;
but after four weeks of almost incessant wet weather,
we returned to London, and took -lodgings at 185
Piccadilly, resting till the important evening should
arrive. What an audience, and what a greeting! It
was overpowering. The papers stated that seven
thousand were present. It was a happy beginning of
our allotted work. The chairman on that occasion
was Sir Charles Reed, honored as chairman of the
London School Board, formerly M.P. for the borough
of Hackney,* a leading man in every good word and
work. He is the second son of the celebrated philan-
thropist the late Dr. Andrew Reed, who was sent as
a deputation to America by the English Congrega-
tionalists as far back as 1833. Sir Charles is a
typefounder in Aldersgate Street, and was intimately
associated with our illustrious Peabody, of whose
estate he was the executor. He is also one of the
leading men in connection with the Sunday School
Union. He is a prompt man of business, always
managing to come at the right time, say and do the
right thing, and then be off to another meeting or
committee elsewhere. He is a brother-in-law of Hon.
Edward Baines, the proprietor of that influential jour-
nal the "Leeds Mercury." Sir Charles has been a
successful man through life, and for years has been
more or less a public man, especially in connection
with the city of London ; and I believe he might have
been Lord Mayor had his ambition led him in that
direction, but as he refrained from coming forward as
an alderman, of course he cannot rise to that dignity.
His hair is white, his form erect, and there is a hearty
* Elected in 1880 as a member for St. Ives.
36 A MODEL BUSINESS MAN.
glow on his benevolent face, which shows that his
work agrees with him. He has an easy and natural
way of speaking. What he says seems to come to
him naturally and with little effort. He is very pop-
ular, and is generally hailed on his public appearances
with hearty applause.
The chairmen of my other meetings have impressed
upon me the conviction that never before has the
Temperance cause been more thoroughly allied to the
highest culture. Yividly do I recall Samuel Morley,
M.P. for the city of Bristol, one of those merchant-
princes who are the glory and pride of London, and
of England. He is a tall, well-made man, with rather
a serious, but extremely intelligent and attractive
face, with a warm heart and a smile for every ear-
nest worker in the cause of humanity. Nor is this
all. His purse is as big as his heart, and he rarely
refuses a handsome donation in every case of real
distress. To him many have been indebted for the
building of a chapel, Wesleyan, Baptist or Congre-
gationalist, and the erection of mission halls or coffee
palaces; to the establishment of school and college,
or to special efforts made by the Bible and tract
societies, and the " Sunday School Union." I think
he is almost seventy years old, and he seems to have
an immense power of work in him yet, looking much
younger than his years. I am told that of his in-
come, which is set down at 70,000 a year, half of
it is spent in charity. In politics he is one of the
liberal leaders in the city. He is a dissenter, and a
Congregationalist. As a man of business he has few
equals. His factory is at Nottingham; his warehouse
in Wood Street, Cheapside ; and he has a superb resi-
dence some way from town, hi one of the most beau-
SAMUEL MORLEY. 37
tiful districts of the county of Kent. He does not
make long speeches, but what he says is always to
the point, and comes from the heart.
In spite of his great wealth he always dines in the
middle of the day, as his young men, of whom there
are some seven or eight hundred, dine at that time.
Such a habit gives him ample opportunity to devote
his evenings to useful, philanthropic, and religious
work. This dinner-hour was recommended to him,
when quite a young man, by his uncle, who said to
him, " l^ow, Samuel, never give in to the fashion of
late dinners; if you do, you will never be able to do
any good in the world." And Mr. Morley has ever
since avoided late dinners, and thus devotes the time
he has gained to the promotion of the welfare of his
fellow-man and to the glory of God. A more sincere
Christian man I know not.
In the city he is an earnest supporter of the Tem-
perance movement. He was also one of the first
members of the London School Board. There is a
great deal of drinking in London mercantile life.
The great houses have their buyers, and these buy-
ers are exposed to great temptations. The agents of
the manufacturers invite them to heavy lunches, or
grand dinners, where the wine circulates freely, and
business is transacted over the flowing bowl. Against
this custom Mr. Morley ever utters a conscientious
protest, and he will not sanction it in any way, as he
has seen so much of the mischief, and the mental,
bodily and spiritual ruin it creates. He is president
of the " Band of Hope Union," and often stands side
by side with the noble Earl of Shaftesbury in the
cause of ragged schools.
One sees Mr. Morley driving about in a fine mail
38 ROAST BEEF ANT) PLUM PUDDING.
phaeton, as if he were some thirty or forty years
younger than he really is. I can quite understand
his desire to take things a little easier, but it seems
that people will not let him; for instance, he wishes
to retire from Parliament, but the Bristol people in-
sist on retaining him as their M.P.
In one thing he is especially interested, and that is
in the Brackley Street Mission. You must know that
though they are pulling down all the old houses, and
all the unhealthy, fever-breeding tenements in London,
as fast as they can, many of them are still left. One
of these is in Brackley Street, a very low part of the
city, where a great number of the costermongers live,
not very far from the grand warehouses in Cheapside
and Gresham Street. In this street Mr. Morley's
employes have established a mission church, where a
city missionary preaches every Sunday. A flourishing
Sunday school has also been established, where all the
agencies connected with such places are worked by
Mr. Morley's young men. At Christmas time a grand
dinner of roast-beef and plum-pudding is provided for
the poor people connected with the mission hall, and
presents are given to the children; and Mr. Morley
is sure to be present on such occasions.
There is another institution in the suburbs of Lon-
don, almost entirely supported by Mr. Morley and his
brother, viz., the Protestant Deaconess' Institute, at
Tottenham, just opposite the spot where dear old
Isaac Walton, the angler as he tells us in his book,
loved to refresh himself when he went fishing in
the direction of the river Lea. There Dr. Losereau,
a medical man, has found a nice old-fashioned house,
which he has converted into a hospital, and in which
he appoints a certain number of respectable, religious
THE GIFT OF GIVING. 39
young women of the middle class, whom he trains to
nurse the sick, and at the same time to minister to
the mind diseased and to solace and strengthen it
with the consolations religion imparts. In all parts
of the country these nurses have been employed.
They have also been useful in the East, and in the
war between France and Germany; and whatever
power they have been for good has been chiefly due
to the constant and liberal support of such a man as
Mr. Morley. Yet with all this, Mr. Morley is a per-
fectly unostentatious man.
Often if A gives a hundred pounds to some charity,
B gives another to prove himself as good a man as
A.. In a fashionable comedy, a city merchant is rep-
resented as telling his private secretary to send so
many hundred pounds to all the charities which pub-
lished the names of the donors, and to put it down
under the head of advertisements. Mr. Morley is
not a man of that class. Nor is he like a wealthy
brother of whom I heard the other day. He be-
longed, it seems, to the Baptist denomination; and,
upon an intimation to the church of his desire to be
set apart for ministerial training, a deputation was
appointed to confer with him on the subject. After
due and anxious deliberation, they returned with their
report. It was to the effect that the young man in
question had one great talent which might be usefully
employed for the good of the community, for the ser-
vice of the church, and for the honor of God; and
that was the gift of giving. Mr. Morley has that
talent in perfection, and he makes a noble use of it;
but he has other and greater and better gifts as well.
Another chairman was Canon Farrar, the author of
the most successful "Life of Christ" that has appeared
40 KEY. CANON FARRAR.
in our day. He is the son of a clergyman, and with
his delicately chiselled face and fair complexion, looks
every inch a gentleman. Originally he devoted more
time to teaching than to preaching. He was one of
the masters at that beautiful Harrow school, where
Lord Byron and Sir Robert Peel were trained. Mr.
Farrar was appointed head master; he is now, how-
ever, one of the canons of Westminster, and one of
the most attractive and fascinating orators in the
English Church. He has a calm and gentle, and yet
very telling way of speaking, and when he preaches
at Westminster, the grand old abbey is crowded in
every part. He is quite in the prime of life indeed
he looks very young, considering the work he has
done and the reputation he has gained. His books
have a great sale, and so have his single sermons.
He has also written some good stories for boys.
He presided twice in Exeter Hall at my lectures.
I heard him speak only for a few minutes, but there
was a magnetism about him making us long to hear
more. His utterances for temperance are not uncer-
tain: he is thoroughly in earnest, and speaks power-
fully and very eloquently. He has spoken in the
Sheldonian Theatre, Oxford; and at Cambridge,
Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Aberdeen universities, and
is doing a very important work. He told me that all
his children had signed the total-abstinence pledge.
He is a most valuable acquisition to the temperance
cause in England, and his influence through his pub-
lished speeches is extensively acknowledged in this
country.
Another chairman was the Lord Bishop of Exeter,
a great contrast to his predecessor, the renowned
Tory, Bishop Philpots. Dr. Temple was at one time
LORD BISHOP OF EXETER. 41
master of Rugby Grammar School, the successor of
Dr. Arnold, whose life was admirably written by Dean
Stanley while a professor in Oxford, and who raised
the reputation of that school to the very pinnacle,
Rugby made so familiar to us by Thomas Hughes in
his " Tom Brown's Schooldays." Bishop Temple
reminds you not a little of Dr. Cummings, of the
Scotch church, in his best days. He is dark in com-
plexion and hair; he has an ecclesiastic, scholastic,
and high-bred appearance. There was what I have
heard called a " tremendous row," when he was made
Bishop of Exeter, as he was one of the seven who
wrote the " Essays," which some years ago made so
much talk, and were the theme of so much discussion
in England, on the Continent, and in America. The
doctor has outlived the odium tkeologicum, per-
haps one of the most virulent forms of human ani-
mosity, and is universally esteemed and respected.
His speech on temperance was very attractive and
decisive; he impressed me as a man with profound
convictions, who knew what he was talking about,
and uttered every sentence with a decision that im-
pressed you with his sense of the importance of his
own utterances. His language was perfection. He
was received by the audience at Plymouth with great
enthusiasm.
Another, who presided at my lecture at Croydon,
was the Lord Bishop of Rochester, who has one of
the sweetest faces I ever looked upon. He is small
in person, but great in effort, dignified but not stiff,
exceedingly courteous and genial, and the perfect
gentleman. A short time since, he was a hard-work-
ing English clergyman; now he is an evangelical
bishop in one of the busiest of English dioceses.
42 BORROWING HALF A SOVEREIGN".
His speech is grave but forcible and to the point.
He said emphatically: "I deserve neither praise nor
pity for being a total abstainer. I do not deserve
praise, because I never did a better thing for myself
in all my life ; nor do I deserve pity, for it has doubled
my working power." He is held in high esteem, and
is universally respected and beloved. He spoke to
me of the great delight which he has always expe-
rienced in his repeated visits to the United States.
The Bishop of Bangor presided at my lecture at
Carnarvon, but, owing to his late arrival, I saw but
little of him beyond the personal formalities of the
immediate occasion.
The Bishop of Bedford presided at my lecture in
Oswestry. He preached the Temperance sermon in
Westminster Abbey for the League, in March last.
Canon Ellison presided for me at Oxford; Canon
Wilberforce, at Southampton; Canon Connor, at
Newport, Isle of Wight; the Dean of York, at York;
the Dean of Durham, at Newcastle; the Lord Lieu-
tenant and father of the House of Commons, Hon.
Mr. Talbot, at Swansea; the Lord Mayor of Dublin,
at Dublin. What a change in public sentiment in
twenty years! when it was rare to obtain the service
of a clergyman to preside.
Another chairman was Benjamin Whitworth, a man
who has made his own way in the world, and who is
now, or was till lately, one of the largest employers
of labor in England. He is a man of middle height,
gray hair, pleasant in aspect, calm and convincing in
speech. Said a friend of mine to one who knew him
well some years ago, " How did Mr. Whitworth make
all his money?" " Why, by borrowing half a sover-
eign," was the reply. My friend said to me, " I'm
MAKING A FOKTUNE. 43
afraid that cannot be the secret of his success, as I
went at once and borrowed a sovereign, and yet I am
far from having made a fortune. It requires financial
genius to make a fortune out of half a sovereign; but
that genius Mr. Whitworth has in an eminent degree,
and it has made him a member of Parliament, and a
man of mark." He commenced his speech of intro-
duction with a few very pithy remarks, announcing
himself as the oldest total-abstainer perhaps in the
world, as he was sixty-two years of age, and had
never tasted intoxicating drink in his life. With
such a record, he carries a great deal of power; and,
though rich and of commanding influence, he is very
simple in his manners, thoroughly the gentleman
without any superciliousness. I was very much at-
tracted to him, and enjoyed meeting him exceed-
ingly.
I had the pleasure and privilege of meeting Sir
Wilfred Lawson, the president of the United King-
dom Alliance, who was the chairman at my third
lecture in Mr. Spurgeon's tabernacle. He is one of
the wittiest men in the House of Commons. I am
told that his income from land alone is 100,000 per
annum. If he were not a teetotaler, he would be a
"jolly good fellow," perhaps, in the bacchanalian sense
of the term; as it is, he is a "jolly good fellow" in a
higher and nobler sense. It is impossible to converse
with him for five minutes without being affected by
his goodness and humor. He overflows with what
Lord Beaconsfield terms " gay wisdom," and is even
more witty in private than in public life. His wit
seems to be hereditary. Many years ago, when Henry
Brougham canvassed Cumberland, Sir Wilfred's grand-
father was his vigorous supporter. On one occasion,
44 SIR WILFRED LAWSOtf.
observing that the conservative side of the hustings
was crowded with clergymen, the old gentleman
stretched out his hand towards them, exclaiming,
" The Lord gave the word, and great was the company
of the preachers," an allusion that was extremely
well relished in the hustings. Sir Wilfred takes the
world easily. He is good-tempered, and makes you
good-tempered as well. He has a fine, manly pres-
ence, and looks as if he might do good service to the
cause of temperance and righteousness for many years
to come. As a speaker, he is very fascinating, and at
once put his audience en rapport with himself. When-
ever you see a speech of his reported, you find con-
stantly the notice " [roars of laughter] "; not that he
is flippant, by any means; but he introduces side hits
that are irresistibly funny, and seems to do so some-
times with an utter unconsciousness that he has said
anything ludicrous; and his half inquiring, half sur-
prised look at the convulsed audience only adds to
their merriment. He exhibits in his speeches sound
common-sense, unanswerable argument, logic without
a flaw, and what in other men would be a break or
digression, with him is only reaching out for and
employing some outside implement to drive home the
truth. His good-nature is unshaken by opposition;
and when sometimes he utters an unpalatable truth,
for he is fearless in his expressions of belief,
there may be a storm of hissing, he is perfectly im-
perturbable, and will quietly introduce a story or
illustration so pat, so apt, as to throw the laugh upon
his opponents. This he does so gracefully that the
objectors are to be seen laughing as heartily as the
others at their own discomfiture, reminding you of
Charles Lamb when he hooted and hissed as loud as
PEACE WITH HONOR. 45
any of the audience who condemned the farce on
which he had built such hopes of emolument.
I heard him twice: once at a meeting of the
United Kingdom Alliance, and again when he pre-
sided at Mr. Spurgeon's tabernacle. I was very
anxious that he should speak at length, and accord-
ingly asked him to occupy as much time as possible.
I thoroughly enjoyed his speech. As a specimen of
his style, though his manner is unapproachable and
indescribable, I give a few sentences from one of his
speeches on the liquor traffic. He said : " The pub-
licans, if you read their speeches at their dinners,
generally tell you that they are licensed by the law
as the guardians of public morality; and we all know
that the police are the guardians of the public peace.
Therefore we may say, with regard to this licensing
question, and this conjunction of publicans and police,
that righteousness and peace have kissed each other."
He is a strong liberal, and often introduces a hit,
very keen, but very smooth, at the opposition. One
of the mottoes of the conservative party in reference
to the mission to Berlin, is, "Peace with honor;" so
in speaking of the publicans, he said: "If you read
their speeches as I have done, you would say that the
whole tone of them is, that they are great public
benefactors, unappreciated by a hard-hearted world,
who would retire and take refuge in some less philan-
thropic and arduous business, where they might find
* Peace with honor,' " here he was interrupted by
cheers, laughter, and hisses, when he finished with
" if it were not for their burning desire, to minister to
their own comfort, and promote the happiness and
well-being of the people." Take him for all in all, he
is one of the most effective speakers for the legisla-
46 WITTY SPEECHES.
tive temperance question in England. He has pun-
gent sarcasm without bitterness, meets opposition
with unfailing good -humor; his wit is sharp, but
never causes a rankling wound. He is immensely
popular, and the very announcement of his name
creates enthusiasm. I met him at the dinner of the
Medical Temperance Society, at Langham Hotel, and
was charmed by his easy and gentlemanly courtesy.
I venture to give a short extract or two from his
speech at the Tabernacle, believing it will be interest-
ing to many:
" Ladies and Gentlemen : I was at a large meeting last night. I
took up the ' Echo ' newspaper just before I came here this evening, and
I saw a paragraph in which it stated that Sir Wilfred Lawson made a
4 tolerably long speech.' I am afraid there was a little misprint, and
that the writer meant an intolerably long speech. [Laughter.] I shall
take warning, and not make you an intolerably long speech to-night ;
but Mr. Gough kindly wishes me to say a few words before I have the
pleasure of introducing him to this magnificent meeting, [loud cheers,]
for it is the grandest meeting which ever I had the pleasure of address-
ing. [Renewed cheers.] I thank those gentlemen who have promoted
this meeting for having done me the honor of asking me to preside over
it. I feel that it is an honor, and more than that, it is a luxury; for I
am more in the habit, at these meetings, of speaking than of listening.
To-night I shall have the treat which will be all the greater because it
will be shared by the many thousands whom I see around me of hear-
ing And another reason why I feel it pleasant to come to this
meeting, is because I am in the habit of about five times a week attend-
ing another meeting, [laughter,] which is held at St. Stephen's, and I
assure you I do not attend it with much pleasure, for the business which
we are engaged in, in that great assembly, is one which is enough to
wound the heart of any man of feeling. [" Hear, hear."] There we
are, day by day, and night by night, devising means for the torture and
the slaughter of our fellow-men." [Uproar.]
In speaking of the results of drink, he said:
"Take lunacy. Lord Shaftesbury, himself a lunacy commissioner,
has told us that drink is one of the principal causes of madness in thia
country. By the by, while I am talking about lunacy, there comes into
my mind a remark which was made in this very borough, I think, or
DR. B. W. RICHARDSON. 47
near it, by a very great friend of your member's, who sits by my side.
That good friend was Mr. Morgan Howard, who, making a speech at a
political meeting not long since, assured his audience that during the
time when Mr. Gladstone was in office there were more lunatics in the
asylums of this country than at any other period. [Laughter.] I state
that to show you the enormity of the evil, because I am quite sure you
will agree with me that, since the present government came in, the
lunatics have got loose ! "
And in conclusion he said:
" I don't need to tell you to hear him ; what I do tell you, is to heed
him, to take to heart the counsels which he will give you, and to send
him back, when in a short time he goes across the Atlantic, to the
Republic of the West, with a message that we intend to live henceforth
in unity and peace with them, [loud cheers,] and that the only strife
between us shall be the generous rivalry as to which country first shall
overthrow that foul and degraded system, based on prejudice, on tyran-
nous custom, and on unjust laws, which at present is the greatest hin-
drance in all the paths of virtue and holiness and of true glory, which
yet blocks the way of the two greatest nations of the world." [Ap-
plause.]
One of the men upon whom the friends of temper-
ance in England rely very much for medical testi-
mony against alcoholic drinks is Dr. Richardson, and
I believe the cause has received through his advocacy
a most powerful impetus, not only in Great Britain,
but all over the world where the English language is
spoken; moreover, his works have been translated
into several foreign languages. He hails from the
county of Leicester, and was born in the year 1828.
His education was chiefly in Scotland. In 1855 he
originated the first sanitary English journal, the
"Journal of Public Health, and Sanitary Review,"
which he edited for several years. In 1856 he gained
the Astley Cooper prize of three hundred guineas for
an essay on the coagulation of the blood, and he be-
came a member of the Royal College of Physicians.
As a lecturer and writer On the diseases of modern
48 FAREWELL RECEPTION.
life, on the influence of alcohol and other matters of
similar character, no one is more popular or more suc-
cessful than Dr. Richardson; and he speaks with the
more authority and effect, because at one time he be-
lieved in and used wine, and recommended its use.
His numerous works speak for him. His style is
very attractive. I heard him lecture once in Exeter
Hall, and was fascinated from the first utterances to
the closing words; and so intense was the interest
which he awakened, that at his conclusion, when the
spell was lifted, there was left the regret that I could
not hear it all again. To those (and there are many
in this country) who have read his works, I need not
say how charming as well as vigorous is his style.
He is not very tall, rather stout, but well formed,
and with a face of remarkable intelligence and geni-
ality. He was one of the first to greet me on my
arrival in England, and I -found him a sincere friend
and cordial ally. The last evening I spent in London
was at a ^ farewell reception in his house, where I
met a delightful company; among them the venerable
S. C. Hall, known for two generations as an authority
on matters of art, the editor for years of the "Art
Journal," and a good worker for temperance; his wife,
Mrs. Anna Maria Hall, who has written very elo-
quently on social reform, was detained by ill-health.
Another medical man claimed by the total abstain-
ers, (I was not so fortunate as to meet him,) and
received as an authority by those who are engaged in
the temperance work, is Sir Henry Thompson. He
was born in Framlingham, in Suffolk, the son of a
grocer and draper, and became in course of time,
when a young man, a partner in his father's business ;
but he soon left it, and entered himself as a student
SIR HENRY THOMPSON. 49
at University College, London, with an aim to study
medicine. He passed successfully through all his
classes, and then went to Paris to study the French
language and surgery. He returned to London, mar-
ried Kate Loder, the celebrated pianist, set up in
practice in Wimpole Street, in the fashionable quarter
of the town. Here his essay won the Jacksonian
prize for the year, and he at once became a man of
mark. He was brought under the notice of the King
of the Belgians, on whom he performed a successful
operation, where surgeons in Paris and London had
failed. The result was that he rose at once to the
first rank in his profession. The King of the Bel-
gians gave him, so I have heard, 3,000. The Queen
of England made him a knight, and nobles and great
men consulted him ; and it is said that his practice is
worth 20,000 per year. His letter to the Arch-
bishop of Canterbury, on the evils of moderate drink-
ing, begging his Grace to use his influence to stop it,
created an immense sensation, and did much to open
men's eyes, and convince them of the evils of the
moderate use of alcohol. Sir Henry has great talents
as an artist, and has been a frequent exhibitor in the
Royal Academy. His Thursday dinners, at which
the artists and wits assemble, are among the most cele-
brated in London. He is tall, thin, gentlemanly, with
a gray, thick moustache, a dark eye that looks you
through and through, and a clear, emphatic manner,
which makes the patient feel that he is safe in his
hands. Calm, imperturbable as he is, Sir Henry feels
much. It is said that at the end of a very difficult
operation he has exclaimed, " There's another nail in
my coffin."
I was brought into contact with these men by my
4
50 LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR.
connection with them as chairmen at special efforts in
the temperance cause. My list would be incomplete
without mentioning one of the noblest men of England.
I refer to the then Lord High Chancellor, Earl Cairns;
the man who stands next to the throne in official cir-
cles ; the chairman of that august assembly, the House
of Lords; a man who would not bind himself to any
cause that was not a noble one; who has all a law-
yer's caution; who has in his bearing that hardness
which constitutes a man of the world, before whom
sophistry and sentimentalism plead in vain. It was a
beautiful sight to see him, in the height of the London
season, when time was with him most valuable,
when his mind was most strained with important
state affairs, devote one afternoon to preside at a
lecture of mine in Exeter Hall, and, with chastened
eloquence and matured wisdom, earnestly commend-
ing the cause of which I was the advocate, and with
which I have been identified so many years. In his
gown and wig, on the woolsack in the House of
Lords, with his gold mace before him, the Lord High
Chancellor is a very formidable personage. Even as
a plain man in the streets, you would notice Lord
Cairns by his stateliness and calmness, indicative of a
temperament and resolve of iron, which has lifted him
up, the son of a clergyman, to the very topmost pin-
nacle of the London world. When such a man is
delighted to lend the weight of his name and influ-
ence and presence and speech to such efforts, how
great has been the progress of temperance principles
in the highest circles of the old country! And
what a personal triumph, to be thus honored for my
work's sake in the land where I was born to so low
n lot!
LOUD PEOYOST COLLETS. 51
Truly the progress in twenty-five years has been
amazing and remarkable. At Rochdale, where I spoke,
the Mayor of the city was in the chair, the Mayor of
Bury supporting him on one side, the Mayor of Old-
ham on the other, giving their countenance, in their
official capacity, (for they wore the massive gold
chains and insignia of office,) to the temperance
cause. In Glasgow, the Lord Provost Collins pre-
sided and entertained us at his residence. He is
thoroughly devoted to the reform, gives liberally, and
is always ready to give his whole influence most
heartily to the work. On January 1, 1879, he enter-
tained eight thousand of the unemployed at a sub-
stantial meal. Several of the largest halls in Glas-
gow were engaged for the occasion, and appropriate
speeches were made by ministers of the Gospel and
by others. In many ways he has manifested his deep
interest in and sympathy for the poor people, espe-
cially the deserving working class.
The Duke of Westminster had engaged to preside
at my meeting at Chester, but a severe attack of
bronchitis prevented. He is the wealthiest man in
England; a small, thin, dark-complexioned man, not
celebrated as an orator, but a nobleman who mani-
fests a deep interest in the temperance' cause, and
who exerts a powerful influence. He has been the
means of reducing the number of public-houses on
his large estates. He is a personal abstainer. Though
occupying so high a position, he is very unassuming,
as all truly great men are. A friend of mine, who
was a stranger to his Grace, was one day at a musical
soiree in the great reception-rooms of Grosvenor
House, and as he was standing with some others in
the doorway, a gentleman asked them to take a
52 DUKE OP WESTMINSTER.
seat in the next room, "where," he said, "you can
hear just as well." " Oh," said my friend, " I don't
care where I sit, so long as I can hear what the
Duke has to say for himself." " Oh," observed the
stranger, "I will let you know when I am going
to speak." My friend was talking to the great Duke
himself.
I was delighted to meet again my dear and honored
friend, Samuel Bowly, whose tall, erect, and manly
presence shows how well teetotalers can bear the
heat and burden of the day, and who has for many
years constantly and liberally devoted his time and
means to the promotion of every good work. In his
advanced age, he is as useful and powerful, and I
believe more influential, than ever. With his high
social position, he has done a great work for the tem-
perance cause among those who could not otherwise
have been reached, by his very successful parlor-meet-
ings at the houses, and in the drawing-rooms of the
wealthy and educated, introducing teetotalism into
many a circle where it was once a thing to be scoffed
at. As a deputation for the National Temperance
League, of which he is the honored president, he has
presented the cause all over the country by his excel-
lent and persuasive platform speeches, and by his
agency the principles are honored and revered where
they were once held in contempt. I know of no man
more universally beloved than dear Samuel Bowly of
Gloucester.
Robert Rae, Secretary of the National Temperance
League, is one of the noble self-sacrificing workers
that inspire with new courage those who are ready to
faint; always hopeful, ever striving for an object,
constantly organizing for some new effort, he is in-
PERSISTENCE A CARDINAL VIRTUE. 53
Valuable to the association. One of the most patient
yet persistent men I ever knew; holding his own,
when convinced he is right, against all opponents
without flinching, yet with wonderful equanimity;
never dictatorial, but always firm; a reliable friend,
and a generous enemy; bold in denouncing sin, yet
tender to the sinner, with a stern rebuke for the per-
sistent transgressor, but with deep sympathy for the
unfortunate; never compromising wrong, yet very
gentle to the wronged. He is one whom all respect
and many love.
A grand worker and representative Scotchman was
Thomas Knox of Edinburgh, whose sudden death last
December was felt as a national loss, and most keenly
mourned by the temperance friends who had known
him for so many years as a firm adherent to our prin-
ciples. He once said to me, " I believe persistence to
be one of the cardinal virtues ; " and most thoroughly
did he exhibit that virtue. When I was in Scotland,
as early as 1853, he was writing powerful articles in
the secular papers on education, and proposed the
introduction of temperance lesson-books. He was
strongly opposed by one section of the community,
and barely tolerated by another, while many of the
friends of temperance looked coldly on his scheme.
But he persevered, and for twenty years worked for
this object, with small encouragement from any source,
and lived to see his plan becoming popular, lived to
see temperance literature introduced into many of the
schools of his beloved Scotland, and to know that his
scheme is extensively advocated and adopted, not
only on the continent of Europe, but in the United
States. He was a genial man, one for whom I have a
strong affection. He has encouraged me when de-
54 DEAR, TRUE FRIENDS.
spending, cheered me when sad, comforted me when
suffering, helped me when I needed it. He was my
firm, true, tried, and trusted friend, and I shall always
thank God that I ever knew Thomas Knox.
As I pen these recollections of good men, I see
them coming in troops before me, and I must forbear,
or I should fill my book with the outpouring of my
heart towards the dear, true friends of my life.
CHAPTEK HI.
STREET LIFE AND SCENES TN THE WORLD'S
METROPOLIS.
London Life in the Metropolis Great Contrasts Unknown
Depths "The London Market" Shops of London Streets and
Palaces Distinctive Communities A World in Miniature
Street People Cab Experience Gathering a Crowd " Vot's
hup, Cabby? " Excitements of the Streets Street Children "It
looks werry nice, Sir " Street Boys' Histories Awful Surround-
ings in Childhood " Never had a Chance " Barnabas or Barab-
bas? After the Funeral How the Boy became an Outcast
Vice and Crime The Orphan's Lot Sixteen Hundred Waifs
Sleeping in an Iron Roller and in the Boot of an Omnibus " We
must go to Business " Money-Making Diving in Sewers
" Mud-Larks " " Wagabones and Hactors " Street Arabs
" Peeler's " Difficulties Street-Boys' Wit " Penny " Merchants
Street Wares Cheap Books " Raising the Wind," . . 65
this book is intended for, and will be
read principally by, Americans, I ven-
ture to introduce many of my expe-
riences and jottings in London and
England.
London is a fruitful theme; every
year a fresh crop of material springs
up. I do not say that he who has seen
London has seen the world, but I do say,
that to all of Anglo-Saxon origin on the face of the
wide world, there is no city fuller of interest and
excitement than London. The traditions and archives
of our race are treasured there. To us, when we
55
56 EXPLORING LONDON.
cross the Atlantic, London holds out a friendly hand;
and I say of London, as Cowper said of England,
for I have tasted its hospitality, partaken of its gen-
erosity, and been familiar with its people,
" London, with all thy faults, I love thee still."
Yes; London, the great metropolis whose street
scenes so fascinated me; London, with its contrasts,
its squalid poverty and its enormous wealth. I ex-
plored London with great interest, becoming more
attracted with a closer acquaintance. How few know
London! Though I spent days and nights in my
explorations, I know but very little of the great me-
tropolis. Out of America, I had rather live in London
than in any city in the world. You cannot know it
by merely spending a few weeks in a lodging-house
or hotel, and " doing the sights : " you must explore.
By simply skimming the surface, you know nothing,
comparatively. It is a place that grows in interest on
acquaintance. At first, it seems darker, duller, noisier,
and more bustling than any ordinary town or city.
Few like London on a first visit ; no one who has long
lived there but leaves it with regret. The fairest of
England's daughters, the manliest of England's sons,
all press to London as the fitting arena of enterprise,
conquest, or display. London drains the country,
and from it the country is supplied. Go to the Land's
End, or the Scilly Isles, and see field after field grown
with vegetables ; inquire, and you are told " they are
for the London market." In the most remote parts of
Scotland, ask the sportsman shooting grouse the des-
tination of those wagon-loads of game, and you are
told "they are for the London market." Cross to
Ireland, that butter and those pigs on the quays of
LOCH LEVEN TROUT. 57
Dublin and Cork are for the London market. Sail up
the remotest bays and fiords of old Norway, and ask
whither they are sending those lobsters, crabs, and
salmon; plant yourself in some picturesque part of
Normandy, and ask why they are filling these vessels
with potatoes and eggs, the answer is still the same,
" for the London market."
In the shops of London, the finest and rarest
productions of the world are to be found. In Covent
Garden you may buy green peas, ripe strawberries,
and exquisite flowers the year round; and, as I said,
it is from London that the country is supplied. Per-
haps you are dining with a gentleman two or three
hundred miles from town, by the seaside ; you ask
where he obtained so fine a fish, he tells you it was
brought by train from London. I was at one time
engaged to speak near Loch Leven. The gentleman
who entertained me said, "I shall give you a rare
treat for supper to-night, Loch Leven trout." " Not
very rare to you," I replied, " for you must have them
in abundance during the season." " Indeed," said he,
" we do not ; we who live here cannot obtain them for
love or money, except on special occasions, and this
is one. The tacksman sent me a fine dish of them,
that you might eat trout on the borders of Loch
Leven, which we very seldom do." In reply to my
inquiry, he told me that all the fish were contracted
for in London at a certain rate, on condition that none
should be sold under any circumstances; and that the
disposal of a single trout for money would break the
contract; and said he, " if we want Loch Leven trout,
we must obtain them from London."
London is a very fascinating place to most who
have resided there long, in spite of its smoke, dirt,
58 SEVERAL CITIES IN ONE.
and fog. Charles Lamb, in a letter to Manning, in
reference to a journey in the country, thus speaks of
London : " Streets, streets, streets, markets, theatres,
churches ; Covent Gardens ; shops sparkling with
pretty faces of industrious milliners, neat seamstresses,
ladies cheapening, gentlemen behind counters lying ;
authors in the streets with spectacles; lamps lit at
night; if you happen to wake at midnight, cries of
fire ! and stop thief ! inns of court, with their learned
air, and halls, and butteries, old book-stalls, Jeremy
Taylors, Burtons on Melancholy, and Religio Medicis
at every stall ; these are thy pleasures, O London !
and for these may Keswick and her giant brood go
hang! "
Dr. Johnson could live nowhere else but in London
with comfort. London is several cities rolled into
one. If you walk along Regent Street, it is a city of
gorgeous shops; if you turn to the west, of parks
and palaces; if you travel St. Giles, of gin and dirt;
in Belgravia, it is rich and grand; in Pimlico, it is
poor and pretentious ; in Russell Square it is well-to-
do, successful professional men abiding in what Mr.
Wilson Croker called its unexplored regions. You
will find between each neighborhood a regular line of
demarcation. "When I consider this great city,"
wrote Addison, and the language is applicable now,
" in its several quarters and divisions, I look upon
it as an aggregate of various nations, distinguished
from each other by their respective customs, manners,
and interests. The courts of two countries do not so
much differ from one another as the court and city of
London, in their peculiar ways of life and conversa-
tion. In short," he says, "the inhabitants of St.
James, notwithstanding they live under the same
WANT OF FRESH AIR. 59
laws, and speak the same language, are a distinct
people from those of Cheapside, by several climates
and degrees, in their way of thinking as well as con-
versing."
Fashion migrates to the west; actors and musi-
cians live about Brompton; the medical students take
possession of whole streets in the vicinity of their
respective hospitals; the inns of court are chiefly
inhabited by barristers; France, Italy, Hungary, Po-
land, you will find represented by the cafes and cigar-
shops, billiard-rooms and restaurants of Leicester
Square; Wapping, Rotherhithe, and the Commercial
Road abound with sailors of every nation under the
sun; Quakers live about Edmonton and Stoke-New-
ington; Jews congregate in Houndsditch. In short,
the swells in the parks, the millers in Mark Lane, the
graziers in the new Cattle Market, the prim, pale lads
in the city, the silk-weavers of Spitalfields, or the sugar-
bakers of White Chapel, really form distinct commu-
nities, and seem absolutely localized in their ideas.
The late Dr. Arnott, one of the greatest sanitary
reformers of the age, used to say, that though Lon-
don was not a place where the rate of mortality was
very high, yet it was a place where no one enjoyed
very good health. There is more and more danger
every year of its health being diminished, by want of
fresh air. People live out of town, rents are too high
in the city, and, in consequence of its rapid extension,
the great and growing evil is the want of fresh air.
It is stated, in confirmation of this fact, that every
year the hospital surgeons in London find it more
difficult to cure wounds and injuries to the human
body, on account of the growing impurity of the
London air. A few years ago there was such a fog
60 " 'OLD 'AKD, HOLD FELLER."
in London, not only in the city, but at the Agricul-
tural Hall at Islington, that fat cattle worth hundreds
of pounds cattle that had won prizes at various
fairs were actually suffocated. Long ago, that
famous man, Count Rumford, used to estimate the
amount of coal suspended in the London air as some
millions of chaldrons. It is a curious fact that Sir
Rutherford Alcock, when he visited the great wall in
China, brought back with him a couple of bricks;
one of these bricks he put outside a London balcony.
In two years it had gone entirely to pieces, being
disintegrated by the action of the atmosphere. This
materially affects out-of-door monuments in particu-
lar, and street architecture in general. They have
been compelled to cover the Obelisk on the Embank-
ment with a preparation, to preserve it, as it began to
crumble.
The people in the London streets, by day or night,
are fascinating to me; and I never weary of strolling
about and watching them. It is very easy to gather
a crowd: a horse falls down, and in a few minutes it
requires a policeman to clear the street. One evening
I started in a cab from the Midland Railway Station
for Piccadilly, accompanied by a lady. We had
passed the Five Dials, and were in Gerrard Street,
when the horse staggered and fell. At once a crowd
of men, women, boys, and girls gathered round us.
" Yot's hup, cabby?" " Yy, don't yer see vot's hup?
My 'orse is down; that's vot's hup." "Yah, he's got
the staggers, blest if he 'asn't." "'Old 'ard, hold
feller;" to the horse, who was struggling. "Now,
then, stupid, do you vant your blessed legs broke
vith them 'ere 'eels? " " Yot are ye vipping him for?"
" Yun of ye sit on 'is 'ed, and vee'l get 'im out of the
STKEET BOYS AND GIRLS. 61
shafts in a jiffy." Such a din! boys laughing, women
screaming at every fresh struggle of the wretched
horse, or pitying him with, "poor thing!" "vot a
shame ! " The poor, beer-soaked cabman was perfectly
bewildered, the crowd and confusion increasing, some
one cried out, " 'ere's the perlice," and by his direc-
tion we transferred our luggage to another cab; and,
paying half a crown in fees, beside the cabby's fare,
we got away, leaving the poor horse on the ground,
and the crowd undiminished. You hail a cab, or
hansom, where there is a stream of passers-by, and
immediately a group of persons will stop to see you
get in. Stand stock-still, and stare in one direction,
and a dense crowd will soon be formed; ask a man,
" What is the matter ; what are the people standing
like that for?" He doesn't know, he says, and yet
he is staring as earnestly as any.
The street folks are easily excited. In some parts
of the city, in the evening, you see an organ-grinder
at work, and young girls dancing with as keen an
enjoyment as the fashionable lady at the stylish ball.
These street boys and girls are uncontrollable. I
found them, after twenty years, just the same,
keen, sharp, impudent. Coming through the Strand,
a flake of soot fell on my moustache. I began to run
my fingers through the hair, when a ragged, little bit
of a boy looked up at me and said, with a perfectly
sober face, " It looks wery nice, sir."
It is to be hoped that the compulsory education by
the school boards will be effectual in repressing them
in some degree; but it is wonderful the numbers
who evade the provisions of the School Act, and
every day the " Bobbies," as they term the policemen,
are commissioned to arrest a truant. It is vastly
62 AN AMUSING CHASE.
amusing when a policeman undertakes to capture one
or more of these wild boys or girls, as they rush
about, followed by the panting " Bobby," out of
breath, and altogether too heavy to cope with such
small fry. The little one has the game in his own
hands, and he knows it. Policeman has no chance in
a fair race; at a long distance, the odds might be in
his favor. He has long legs; he has, perhaps, more
than an average amount of bone and muscle; but he
is not fairly matched : he can't dodge under horses ;
he can't crawl between the wheels of a street-car, or
an omnibus; he can't hide his portly form behind a
pillar box; and his pursuit is like a buffalo chasing a
butterfly, which generally ends in failure, and perhaps
the last act of the farce is the little rascal taking a
sight at him.
Occasionally one is caught; and now let us question
the poor little fellow. You find he is shrewd, quick,
sensitive, yet thoroughly wicked, a waif of the
streets. Read his history before you pass judgment.
His home is a cellar; his mother a shameless beggar;
his father a drunkard; his sisters, with livid, withered,
sad faces, ply their dreadful trade. His family are
vagabonds and outcasts. He dwells amid unclean-
ness and cruelty, catching the contagion of sin, and
in sympathy with polluted humanity in every form.
His history? It is one of darkness, without one ray
of light ; a history which, if traced in tears 'and written
in blood, none of us would have nerve enough to read.
Born and brought up in the midst of such horrible
surroundings, he is what he is. How can he grow
God-like, while all the influences of his life tend to
make and keep him morally hideous? Take one of
your own dear ones, and give him the education that
BARNABAS NOT BAEABBAS. 63
boy has had, with all his woftil experience of life, and
he would be as he is no better, no worse. Would
you be what you are if your infancy and childhood
had been passed among all the horrible influences that
have surrounded him? Think of this, and look at
him as he is; and do not sweep him away with the
pitiful leavings of the street, but help him, give him
knowledge, teach him the Lord's Prayer, tell him of
Jesus. That, boy may be made a Barnabas, instead
of a Barabbas. As we know more of such neglected
ones, the less critical and the more loving we shall be.
He who knew the hearts of all was the most gentle
in dealing with ignorance. He, the undenled, en-
deavored to win the hearts of the guilty, because He
loved them ; and surely we may be patient ay,
even believing and hoping in all our efforts to
lift up the unfortunate, and thus do Christ's work on
earth. Solomon says, that " Foolishness is bound up
in the heart of a child ; " and what is to be expected
of these boys born and bred in the streets? I have
seen the children from a Christian home go astray.
Some of the sons of the wealthy and refined have
become poor and coarse; but these children of the
drunkard and the thief never had a chance.
A poor working-man in Lambeth, when returning
one Sabbath afternoon from a ragged school, found a
little boy sitting in a very destitute condition on a
door-step, took hitn home, and asked his history. The
lad was about ten years of age; his mother had died
when he was a baby, so that he had no recollection
of her; his father had been dead about twelve months
partly from the effects of drink. The furniture of
his room was sold the day of the funeral to pay the
expenses. When the lad returned from the grave,
64 WAIFS OF THE STREETS.
he found a man busy removing the poor sticks and
rags from the wretched apartment, making it more
desolate in its emptiness. The boy left that room an
outcast. The first night he slept in a court; then he
found refuge in a railway arch; then in the boot of
an omnibus. Such was his story. Is it wonderful,
when we think of these things, that there should be
vice and crime in London? Sixteen hundred of these
poor little waifs were gathered from the streets, and,
on examination, one hundred and sixty-two confessed
that they had been in prison not merely once or
twice, but several of them many times ; one hundred
and sixteen had run away from their homes ; one hun-
dred and seventy slept in the lodging houses; two
hundred and fifty-three had lived together by begging;
two hundred and sixteen had neither shoes nor stock-
ings ; two hundred and eighty had no cap or covering
for the head ; one hundred and one had no linen ; two
hundred and forty-nine had never slept in a bed;
sixty-eight were the children of convicts. How did
they live? Why, as they could: by sweeping cross-
ings, turning somersaults for the amusement of
passers-by, selling lucifer matches, oranges, tapes,
or ballads. One boy, during the inclement winter,
passed the greater part of his nights in the large
iron roller in Regents Park. As an illustration of
the low rate of morality, I would mention what
passed at a ragged school, to which some fourteen
or fifteen boys were admitted. One Sunday evening,
when the clock struck eight, they all arose. The
master took one little fellow by the arm, as he was
leaving, and said, " You must remain, the lesson is
not over." The reply was, "We must go to busi-
ness." The master inquired what business; the an-
MONEY-MAKING METHODS. 65
swer was, that they must be off to " catch the people
as they came out of churches and chapels." In short,
they were pickpockets.
Lord Ingestre says, in his " Meliora," that he vis-
ited some low dancing-saloons. In one, a man was
pointed out, respectably dressed, who gained his living
by drawing pictures of a ship or steam-engine on the
pavement. These pictures were sold to boys at one
shilling each. The man made several of these draw-
ings in various localities before people were about,
and thus did very well.
In London there is an immense variety of methods
for making money. A lady was one day driving
along one of the green lanes that are still to be met
with in the vicinity of London, and saw a poor woman
gathering some chestnut-leaves. She stopped and
asked for what purpose; the reply was, that the
leaves were sold to the fruiterers in Covent Garden,
to put in their baskets of fruit. On another occasion,
it came out that women and children tore down the
placards in the streets at night, and thus made a
trifle by selling them as waste paper. One man dives
in the sewers for what may be washed away. A
capitalist buys up all the dust and ashes of the city,
and they are sifted by women so black and grimy,
that you could scarcely tell them to be women at all.
There is no waste in London ; everything is picked
up and turned to account. One man buys old bones;
another, old rags; another buys cigar-ends for snuff,
in short, there is nothing so mean or filthy but is
made merchandise by the poor of London. One man
advertises for old postage-stamps that have been used,
on the pretence that some crusty old parent will not
let his daughter marry till she has collected a million.
5
66 THE UNFINISHED GENTLEMAN.
The pretence is a hoax; the old stamps are pasted
together, and in some of the obscure parts of the
town are offered you at a reduced price. The post-
office authorities have issued a new pattern of stamp,
because nearly one-third received had been cancelled
and renewed. There are five or six hundred boys and
girls called " mud larks," who live by searching the mud
of the Thames for bones, coals, and other articles. You
often see men who may be called " Jack-of-all-trades,"
who run " herrands," " 'old yer 'oss," reminding you
of Billy Downey, in the "Unfinished Gentleman,"
who sold clothes-props and pins. Then in the literary
line, carrying round newspapers, spreading knowl-
edge and information. Then in the " wagabone " line,
a " hactor," performing the " 'ind legs of the helephant
fifty-three successful nights," till the chap " vot done
the forelegs " and he happened to get into a fight
" vile they vos hin the helephant;" and the "conse-
kens vos, they hupset the 'ole concern," and in course
he got the bag from the theatre; and now he "'olds
'osses, runs herrands, blacks boots," and makes him-
self generally useful.
Not long since, some children were poisoned by
drinking some belladonna. It appears they had stolen
it out of a case in the street off Covent Garden, had
put it in a bottle with water, and sold it to other chil-
dren at a pin for a spoonful, thinking the belladonna
was Spanish liquorice; and in this way had carried on
an active business.
Some of these little arabs are too restless and irri-
table to be easily reclaimed ; the monotony of decent
life is almost insupportable. If you reclaim them,
many will contrive to get away again.
A gentleman by the name of Driver, who had been
TEASING POLICEMEN. 67
for years engaged in endeavoring to reclaim these
little urchins, says that on one occasion he met some
of them, all dirt and rags, near the Kelson Monu-
ment. Said he : "I addressed myself principally to
one boy, whom some time before I had pulled from
underneath a tarpaulin in Covent Garden Market in
the middle of a winter's night. He had been twice
imder my care for short periods, but gave the prefer-
ence to a street life. I said, * Well, Jim, are you not
tired of this sort of life? ' 'No,' he answered with a
grin, ' not yet ; and when I am, sir, I will come to
you.' 'Very well,' I replied; 'I suppose you will
have your game out first.' ' Now, sir, I'll tell you
the real truth. I'd come to you to-morrow, if you'd
give me an ounce of 'bacca a week, some ha'pence in
my pocket to spend, and an hour's holiday every day ;
it would not be worth my while to do it under that
it would not, indeed, sir! '
All these ragged urchins have an object and, I
fear, but one object of terror, and that is a police-
man. They will teach their dogs to bark furiously at
the word " Bobby " or " Peeler." They will tease
them in all possible ways. A policeman brought a
boy before a magistrate on a charge of insulting him.
"What did he say to you?" " Oh, he said nothing
to me." "What did he do?" "Well, he pointed at
me, and asked another boy if he ever see a rabbit-pie
made out of mutton." " Oh, I cannot entertain such
a charge as that." At every accident to a policeman
their delight is uncontrollable. "Jem, hi! Look
'ere ! come 'ere ! sitch a lark ! Hooray ! Oh my ! 'ere's
a perleeceman fell down on a slide ! Hooray ! ! "
To a flashily dressed snob they are very provoking.
" Oh my ! hi ! there goes eightpence out of a sbil-
68 TUKNXN T G A PENNTT.
ling ! " If on horseback, so much the worse. " Hi
there! you'll tumble off the shop-board! " If he is a
timid rider, "Billy, see, 'ere's a swell; let's frighten
'is 'oss! "
As witty a thing as I ever heard, was a remark
made by one boy to another, as a showily dressed
person passed, evidently vain of his appearance:
"Hi! 'ow does that 'ere chap's hat stay up, without
nothing hunder it? " Ask this ragged little wretch,
" Can you read? " "No; but I can stand on my 'ed
and drink a glass of gin." A judicious old lady said,
when a boy accosted her with " Stand on my 'ed,
ma'am, for a penny," " No, little boy; there's a penny
for keeping right side upwards." Another boy,
" Now, my little man, what would you say, if I
should give you a penny?" "Vy, that you vas a
jolly old brick." " Punch " gives some very graphic
descriptions of this class of boys.
A stroll through the streets amazes you at the vari-
ety of methods for " turning a penny." Everything is
a penny, cigar lights, pencils, sham jewelry, ingen-
ious puzzles, and very questionable publications, which
yield enormous profits, one of them realizing for the
ignoble owner many thousands a year. At one time
it is the " Devil " that is put for sale at the price of
one penny; at -another, "London Life," "London
Gossip," or " Town Talk." There is also always a
great sale of prints and photographs, all at one penny.
The run on the evening papers particularly when
there has been a sensational murder, or a divorce case
with spicy details is immense; and as edition after
edition is worked off, the streets are filled with men
and women, lads and girls, offering them for sale. In
this way a good deal of money is made, especially by
"MATRIMONIAL NEWS." 69
the venders who manage to get first in the neighbor-
hood of the Exchange and the Mansion House, and
thus reach a class of customers who are not particular
in the matter of change. Unprotected females, as
they walk down Cheapside, are exceedingly annoyed
by the impertinence of some of these fellows, who
thrust the " Matrimonial News " before them, as they
bawl in stentorian tones, " Want an 'usband, marm?
Lot's of 'usbands to be had. Only a penny ! "
One thing to be noted is the temporary character
of these penny salable articles. Some are to be met
with all the year round, such as studs, cigar lights,
pocket-books, diaries, almanacs, beetles (which, at-
tached to an india-rubber string, dance about as if
they were alive), india-rubber balls, specimens of
geology, steel pens, note-paper, German toys, refresh-
ing drinks, bird-whistles, &c. Others are dependent
on the season, and you get wonderful flowers, ca-
mellias made of turnips, apples, pears, oranges, wal-
nuts, and slices of pineapple; and the costermongers
who thus cater for the million are indeed a blessing,
as they supply the poor of the metropolis with cheap
fruit. In the summer you have the retailer of sherbet
and the penny ice and shell-fish; in the winter the
same man deals in roasted chestnuts or baked pota-
toes, or keeps a coffee-stall. All the year round,
some enterprising individuals supply the public, who
need to have their blood purified, with penny sarsa-
parilla drinks.
When Lord Beaconsfield came back from the Ber-
lin Congress, there was a card hawked about called
the " European Mystery," and the puzzle was to find
Lord Beaconsfield in the picture.
One of the most curious eiforts I heard of in Lon-
70 ADVERTISING DODGE.
don for "raising the wind" was the "Continental
Advertising Refreshment Plate Company," the aim
of which was, to distribute neatly designed adver-
tisements on the rims of refreshment plates, dishes,
saucers, &c., made of porcelain, china, earthenware,
or other material, among the different hotels and
cafes and restaurants in the various cities and towns
of France and Belgium. It was reckoned this was
to be the cheapest way of advertising ever known;
and to carry it out only 5,000 were asked, which
the promoters, however, probably failed to obtain, as
the company was never started.
CHAPTER IY.
HIGH AND LOW LIFE IN LONDON. CABMEN AND
COCKNEYS.
Cabmen of London: their Great Number "Exact Fare" "I shan't
forget the Phiz " A Dandy discomfited Wealth of London
Men who have risen " Cats' -Meat " Where the Dead Horses
go Fortunes by Sharp Practice Roguery reduced to a System
The Wine Business Tricks of Trade High Art Auctioneers
Jockeyism and Horses Bought his Own Horse Londoner's
Self-Esteem " Connoisseurship in Wines " Tricks of Professional
Beggars The Blind Man who could see " Eddicatin' Dogs "
The Lord Mayor's Show Hardships of the Lord Mayor's Office
"Who is He?" Self-made Men Lord Rothschild's Remark on
" Selling Matches " Schools of the Corporation Disrespectful
Children "'Ow is yer 'Elth?" Inconvenience of the Letter H.
The Gentleman's Story Meeting with an "Hawful Hend "
Dilemma of the Alderman's Daughter The Omnibus Conductor's
Vocabulary, ........... 71
is no class of men less under-
stood than the cabmen of London.
The general verdict is, " Oh, they'll
overcharge and bully you whenever
they get a chance." Not more than
the hackrnen of New York. It is to
be expected that, among twelve thou-
sand or more men, with few advantages
and constant exposure, meeting and dealing
with all shades of character, that there will be some
hard cases, and a good many. But in my experi-
ence, with only a few exceptions, I have found them
71
72 "YOU AIN'T SENT THEM OATS."
civil, and nearly always grateful for liberal treatment.
To the screw who will pay them the " exact fare "
and there are many who pride themselves on always
paying the "exact fare" of one shilling with two
persons for a two-miles' ride they sometimes give a
little chaffing. One of this class, who had paid the
" exact fare," was asked, " Beg pardon, but are you
all pretty much alike in your family, sir? " " Well,
yes, a little so." " Oh, all right; I shan't forget the
phiz, and blowed if any of you will ride in my cab
again." On one occasion two ladies had paid the
shilling for the two miles, with one fourpenny-bit,
two threepenny-pieces, one penny, and two halfpence :
cabby looked at the coins, and turning them over in
his hand, said very insinuatingly, " Well, how long
might you have been saving up for this little treat? "
They can discover the weak points in any they choose
to chaff: as, when an exquisite dandy had handed two
ladies into a cab, and drawled out, " Dwivah, dwive
these ladies to 44 Manchester Square, just two
miles, and here's the shilling," cabby said, "All
right; but, I say, mister, you ain't sent them oats
round to our place yet, that we ordered ; " which took
him down most essentially. " Punch " gives some
capital hits at, and illustrations of the peculiarities of
the cabmen.
The wealth of London is enormous, and the for-
tunes accumulated are in their extent bewildering;
yet many of the wealthy men in London have risen
from obscurity. A certain late Lord Mayor, when a
boy, swept the office of which he became the head.
There was a member of Parliament, and a man of
wealth, who once cleaned the shoes of one of his
constituents. As you walk along Cheapside, you see
CATS' MEAT. 73
warehouses of vast extent, filled with the costliest
productions; the owners of many of these places live
in magnificent villas, yet some of them came penni-
less to London. It is stated that Lindsay, the well-
known ship-owner, was a wretched, half-starved boy
in Liverpool. Johnson Fox, who became the mem-
ber for Oldham, was a Norwich weaver-boy. The
late chairman of the Oriental Steam Navigation
Company was a poor Highland laddie. I have
heard John Cassell, the publisher, say that he came
to London with three halfpence in his pocket ; and he
died leaving a splendid business. I suppose, from
the days of Whittington, such cases have been fre-
quent.
In America we know that very many of our rich
men rose from obscurity and poverty; but the oppor-
tunities and advantages for such a rise are a hundred-
fold greater here than in England. Princely fortunes
are made by trifles in London, as well as in New
York. Out of the profits of his Vegetable Pills,
Morrison purchased a splendid estate; Holloway, of
the world-renowned Ointment, drove in one of the
handsomest " turn-outs " you will meet in the Strand.
I was once riding in the suburbs, when one of the
prettiest country houses I ever saw was pointed out
to me; the grounds were laid out, and the very rails
of the iron fence were gilt. I was told that the pro-
prietor was actually *a dealer in " cats' meat." He
bought up old, sick, or dead horses, and I assure you
he made the most of them. I was informed that he
cut up the flesh for "cats' meat;" that, besides the
hair and hide and bones, the uses of which we can
all understand, the nostrils and hoofs were used for
gelatine, and the blood was employed in the manu-
74 SYSTEMATIC SWINDLING.
facture of ketchup, to which it is supposed to impart
a delicious flavor; the livers were burned, to be
mixed with coffee. So we see a great deal can be
made of a dead horse.
There, as here, fortunes are sometimes made by
sharp practice. An intelligent lawyer once said that
he did not believe there was such a thing as commer-
cial morality at all altogether a too sweeping asser-
tion; but there is an enormous amount of unfair
dealing, in adulteration and various other methods of
dishonesty. The Bankruptcy Court has developed
an immense amount of villany. The number of
those who live by rascality is very great, and astound-
ing disclosures are made of the almost perfect system
by which their roguery is accomplished. There are
no limits to the tricks and deceptions of trade. In
one shop there is a sale going on at an enormous
sacrifice, but the purchaser, not the seller, makes
it; in another, new goods are sold as second-hand.
This is a favorite and very successful trick with the
pawnbrokers. But of the wines, the pictures, I can
hardly trust myself to speak. The wine, when it is
brought into England, and before it is taken to the
wine-merchant's cellar and pays duty, is kept in the
docks. It undergoes a wonderful transformation. In
one case, some wine deposited as very superior sherry
was found to have been transmogrified into very fine
old port. In another case, some wine that had been
in the dock a few years, in spite of leakage and what
had been subtracted for samples, had in a most re-
markable manner increased in bulk. I saw an account
of an action in which it came out that a man had
contracted to turn a certain quantity of British wine
into genuine sherry.
HORSE TRADES. 75
As to pictures, the mock-auction in which paint-
ings not by the old masters are sold, is generally
held in some leading thoroughfare. The auctioneer is
well dressed, facetious, fluent, and well up in the slang
of art; he can talk of the tone of this picture and
the coloring of the other, of the chiar-oscuro, &c.
The verdant provincial steps in, and sees what he
believes to be a genuine picture worth hundreds
going for as many pounds ; he bids, and immediately
there is a furious competition. Around him are con-
federates, whom he imagines to be strangers like
himself: they bid against him; he becomes excited,
and finds himself the possessor of a copy worth but
little.
It is the same with other auctions ; where the stran-
ger sees the bidders quarrel, and the auctioneer re-
fuses to interfere, he thinks the sale must be genuine,
and buys his belief to the contrary at a costly
rate.
The deceptions in the horse-trade are still bolder
and more ingenious. Very often a man does not
know his own horse when he gets it into the dealer's
hands. I have heard of cases in which a man has
unknowingly bought back a horse, at a high figure,
which he had previously disposed of as almost worth-
less. You read in the " Times " (and whenever a
Londoner wants to know where to buy anything, he
is sure to look in the advertising columns of the
" Times ") that a horse, quiet to ride and drive, the
property of a gentleman who has no further use for
him, is to be parted with; you are referred to a cer-
tain livery stable; you see the animal, as strong and
showy a beast as you can possibly desire; indeed, it
is vamped and doctored in a wonderful manner; if
76 CONNOISSEURS IN WINE.
slow, it is made to run fast, if lame, to walk; the
horse strikes you as like Barry Cornwall's Gamana
" Strong, black, and of the desert breed,
Full of fire and full of bone,
All his line of fathers known ;
Fine his nose, his nostrils thin,
But blown abroad by the pride within ;
His mane a stormy river flowing,
And his eyes like embers glowing
In the darkness of the night ;
And his pace as swift as light."
While you are admiring this creature of man's in-
genuity, a groom in livery comes into the yard for
some well-known nobleman, or public character anx-
ious to secure this horse at any price; but the dealer
has offered him to you, and he won't deviate from his
word. You buy the animal, and, when you get him
home, you find oat your mistake. Sometimes the
confederate is a commercial traveller: he happens to
come into the yard just as you are examining the
horse; he seems so respectable a man, and so fond of
his horse, and so reluctant to part with it, that you
are completely thrown off your guard.
The Londoner of a certain class, however, is never
deprived of his self-esteem; he is a judge of every-
thing; especially he prides himself on being a judge
of wine, spirits, and porter. I give you a fact. Three
gentlemen were dining together at the house of one
of them, and after dinner a bottle of claret was pro-
duced. The connoisseurs turned up their noses, and
declared it would not do. Their host was very sorry;
apologized; said he would give them a bottle of a
better sort: he stepped down into his cellar, and,
without their knowledge, gave them a bottle of the
same kind. "Ah ! " said the connoisseurs, " that is
THEODORE HOOK. 77
beautiful; that has the real bouquet; that is the real
thing ! " So much for connoisseurship in wine. Every
London tavern-keeper could tell scores of similar
tales. A great judge of wine, a nobleman, had placed
before him a bottle of champagne and a bottle of
gooseberry wine. The noble lord was requested to
judge which was the genuine article. He, after much
consideration, gave the preference to the gooseberry
wine. In England, at dinner time, when wine is
served at table, the custom was for one gentleman to
say to another, or to a lady, " Sir, (or madam,) may
I have the pleasure of taking a glass of wine with
you?" " With pleasure." The glasses are then filled,
and, as they drink, they look at each other and bow.
Theodore Hook was once observed, during a dinner
at Hatfield House, nodding like a Chinese mandarin
in a tea-shop. On being asked the reason, he said,
"When no one asks me, I take sherry with the
epergne, and bow to the flowers."
As I am speaking of drinking, I would here refer
to the celebrated " whitebait," a sound very musical
to Cockney ears. To the large taverns at Blackwall
and Greenwich gourmands flock to eat " whitebait,"
a delicious little fish caught in the reach of the
Thames, and directly netted out of the river into the
frying-pan. They appear about the end of March,
or early in April, and are taken every flood-tide till
September. The fashion of eating them is sanctioned
by the highest authority, from the Court of St. James
in the west, to the Court of the Lord Mayor in the
east. The Cabinet winds up the parliamentary ses-
sion with an annual whitebait dinner, to which they
go in an ordnance barge or government steamer.
Whitebait are eaten with lemon and brown bread and
7o FASHIONABLE ECONOMY.
butter. I believe that, after all, there is not much in
them, but that gentlemen make a whitebait dinner an
excuse for a run out of town, little bit of holiday, and
for drinking champagne and iced punch.
London is not a cheap place to live in; yet an
economical man, I believe, may live as cheaply there
as in any city in the world. He may read all the
newspapers and magazines for a penny; he may pass
the day in exhibitions and museums without spending
a farthing; he may find a decent bedroom for five
shillings a week, and may dine comfortably for a shil-
ling. Mr. Wellesley Pole used to say it was impos-
sible to live in England under 4,000 a year. Mr.
Brummel told a lady of rank, who asked him how
much she ought to allow her son for dress, that it
might be done for 800 a year, with strict economy.
Mr. Senior, in an article in the " Encyclopedia Met-
ropolitana," stated that a carriage for a woman of
fashion must be regarded as one of the necessaries of
life ; and every young swell must have his brougham,
his man, and his own establishment. But a great
deal is done on credit. " What a clever man my son
is ! " said an English gentleman, speaking of the well-
known Tom Duncombe. " I allow him 300 a year,
and he spends 3,000!"
The tricks of the professional beggars are almost
inconceivable. They will simulate every disease under
the sun. Sometimes they are thrown off their guard.
A man was standing with a board in front of him,
with the inscription, " I am blind," when a gentleman
threw a shilling on the ground: the blind man in-
stantly picked it up. The gentleman said, " Why, I
thought you were blind." The fellow, after a mo-
ment's hesitation, looked at his board, and then said,
"I EDDICATE DOGS." 79
" I'm blessed if they haven't made a mistake, and put
a wrong board on me this morning! I'm deaf and
dumb!" A man, being led by a dog, was accosted
by a policeman : " You're not blind." " Yell, vot if
I ain't? " " What are you going through the streets
for with that dog? " " Yy, Lor' bless ye, I eddicate
dogs for blind men."
I must say a word or two about the Lord Mayor,
and the Lord Mayor's Show, which I saw during my
recent visit, and which seemed to me more popular
than ever, and about as silly. For the day, business
is almost suspended. At an early hour the leading
streets are closed to traffic; the shop-windows are
filled with young people and their papas and mammas
and older relatives. The streets are crowded \vith
spectators all the way from the city to Westminster
Hall, where the Lord Mayor is officially introduced to
the judges, and invites them to dinner. I suppose
a million of people come to see the Lord Mayor's
Show, which returns by the Thames Embankment
a famous place for a crowd, and where generally, in
spite of the police, there is a good deal of horse-play
on such occasions, as it is there the riffraff of the
metropolis love to meet. The Lord Mayor of Lou-
don, for the time being, is the first man in the city;
and by the city I mean the busy hive of industry de-
voted entirely to business, in which few people live,
situated between what was known as Aldgate Pump,
in the east, and Temple Bar, in the west. He has
usually a hard life of it, as for the year of office he is
chairman of almost everything that goes on in the
city; even his Sundays he cannot call his own, as on
that day he is generally expected to attend, in state,
some city church on the occasion of a charity sermon.
00 LORD MAYOR OF LONDON".
He has the Mansion House to live in, and has some
twelve thousand pounds allowed him to spend, which
he generally spends, and often a good deal more. I
have been informed that he gives a bond of 4,000
for the plate. He is much thought of in foreign
parts more than in London, where it is the fashion
of the great city merchants to look down upon the
corporation, and where the city is, as regards size and
population, such a small section of the great metrop-
olis itself; but to the eyes of foreigners, the Lord
Mayor of London is a mighty personage in'deed.
Earl Russell told Lord Albemarle that when, as
a young man, the late Lord Romilly visited Paris,
at a time when he was giving promise of making a
figure at the English bar, some French friend said to
him, " To what dignities may you not aspire ! You
may become Lord Chancellor; w T ho knows? even,"
he added, " Lord Mayor of London ! " Twice the
Lord Mayor has paid the French metropolis a visit,
and on each time great was the sensation he pro-
duced. On the first occasion, that is, after the
Exhibition of 1851, the "Journal des Debats " ob-
served that his " physiognomy implied deference and
respect." Another spoke of his appearance as indi-
cating the possession of good and loyal sentiments.
As the municipal procession made its way through
the streets, the " gamins " in the crowd shouted, "A
bas V aristocrat" There was one person, however,
whom all conspired to honor, and that was the Lord
Mayor's coachman, in his state livery, all gold and
silver, silk and velvet. I suppose he is more orna-
mental than useful, as the grand grooms on each side
of the six horses take care that they shall go right ;
but he is a sight, with his gold cap and grand bouquet
MAKING A FORTUNE. 81
of costly flowers, his silk stockings, and his shoes
with silver buckles, his scarlet face, for he is gen-
erally what is called a good liver, though his own
liver may be ever so bad. " Who is he? " anxiously
asked the French, as he passed along. The reply of
one, who appeared to be or pretended to be
better informed than the rest, was, that he was the
Lord Mayor's chief chasseur, who attended his lord-
ship on all his hunting expeditions ! I can assure
you the Lord Mayor of London finds very little time
to go a-hunting, even if he had the inclination and
the means. Many of the Lord Mayors are self-made
men, and began the world quite low in the social
scale. In all England, as everywhere else, " it is the
hand of the diligent that maketh rich ; " and the
people who begin the world with half a crown in
their pockets, and so make a fortune, are almost as
plentiful in London as they are in America, or any-
where else, and deserve as much credit, if obtained
honestly.
One day, a lady who was seated next to the great
Rothschild at a dinner party, kept tormenting him by
asking what business she should put her son to, in
order to make a fortune. " Madam," was the reply,
" selling matches is a good business if you sell enough
of them." And so it is. Only a year or two ago,
there died in the city of London, a Jew who was
worth a million at the time of his decease. He began
with lucifer matches, thence he went on to pencils,
and so on till he got into the wool trade, and died
rich, as I have said. It is from such men as these
that the ranks of the Lord Mayors of London are
recruited.
There are many schools in and about London, be-
6
82 "'ow is YER 'ELTH?"
longing to the great city companies, under the patron-
age of the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, who visit them
on the occasion of the distribution of prizes. I have
been told that it is occasionally quite amusing, after the
Lord Mayor and his friends have left, when the cere-
mony is over, to find the scholars especially the girls
taking off the defects of their illustrious visitors,
saying to one another, " 'Ow is yer 'elth ? " " Give
us yer 'and." I am told that such is a fact often tak-
ing place, and will be, till the corporation of London
is reformed, and Lord Mayors are elected by a wider
mass of citizens, and not as now by a mere handful.
It is really comical the work the cockneys make
with the letter h ; not only the cockneys, but many in
other parts of the province. I was once at a gentle-
man's house, surrounded with all that wealth could
procure, pictures, plate, an elegant residence,
and the gentleman said to me, " He met with an
hawful hend; he was riding near the railway, and 'is
'orse threw 'im hover 'is ? ed, and the hengine run
hover 'im, and mashed 'im to hattoms."
I was told that not long since a London alderman
gave a grand garden party at his beautiful seat in the
picturesque village of Highgate, where Coleridge
lived, and where Lady Burdett Coutts now lives.
The Alderman had a handsome daughter, who, when
taken out to lunch by a "West End swell, quite per-
plexed him by innocently asking him, " Do you think
I get pretty? " She was thinking of " Highgate,"
and not of herself."
I heard of an omnibus conductor that was calling
out,
" 'Ere ye are, 'ighgate, 'ighgate ; hall for 'ighgate."
Some one said,
"'A'-PEKNY A MILE." 83
" You've dropped something."
" Yot 'ave I dropped?"
" Only some H's."
" Oh! that's nothing; I'll pick 'em up ven I gets to
jETislington."
Two costers were looking at a railway time-table.
" Say, Jem," said one of them, " vot's P. M.
mean? "
" ^y> penny a mile, to be sure."
"Yell, vot's A.M.?"
" 'A'-penny a mile, to be sure ! "
CHAPTER Y.
JUSTICE AND INJUSTICE. SCENES IN THE CRIMINAL
COURTS OF LONDON.
The Old Bailey A Complete Establishment "Tried in Dra wing-
Room ; hanged in Back Kitchen " A Criminal Trial, a Sensation
Drama Waiting for the Verdict Atmosphere of the Dock
Crime shown in the Face The Ragged Youth and his Counsel
Police Courts Ludicrous Scenes Women's Quarrels " The
Love-lorn Widder " Supporting Nine Children The Irishman's
Family at the Bar Disagreeing Evidence Children hired out
to Beggars The Magistrate and the Chimney Sweep Drunken-
ness the Path to the Police Court "Taking in" People Bird
Fanciers cheated Painted Sparrows Uncertainty of the Law
The Thief and his Cherries Barnacles Expense of the Civil
Service Government Leeches The Mysterious Warning Pre-
mium on Idleness " How not to do it," 84
HE Old Bailey is one of the institu-
tions of London, associated with greasy
squalor, and crime of every descrip-
tion; a cold, bleak-looking prison, with
an awful little iron door, three feet or
so from the ground. The Central
Criminal Court is "par excellence " the
criminal court of the country. It is said
that more innocent men are charged with
crime, and more guilty men escape, at the Old Bailey,
than at any other court in the kingdom. It is said
that the Old Bailey barrister is loud of voice and in-
solent in manner. The Old Bailey is very compact.
84
THE OLD BAILEY. 85
You can be detained there between the time of your
committal and your trial; you can be tried there,
sentenced there, and comfortably hanged and buried
there. Since there are no more public executions,
there is no occasion to go outside the four walls; as
some one has said, " You are tried in the drawing-
room, confined in the scullery, and hanged in the
back kitchen."
A criminal trial is a fearfully interesting sight, a
real sensation drama; as the case draws to a close, it
grows more exciting: the charge to the jury; the
waiting for the verdict; the sharp, anxious look the
prisoner casts around him as they render the verdict:
see the compressed lips and contracted brow, and
listen to the great, deep sigh as he learns the worst!
Then the sentence ! The silence is awful, broken,
perhaps, by a woman's shriek; and all is over, as far
as the spectator is concerned. It is said that the
atmosphere of the dock invests the very countenance
of one who may happen to be in it. A well-known
counsel who was defending a singularly ill-favored
prisoner said to the jury, " Gentlemen, you must not
allow yourselves to be carried away by any effect
which the prisoner's appearance may have upon you.
Remember he is in the dock; and I will undertake to
say, that if my lord were to be taken from the bench
and placed where the prisoner is now standing, you
would find, even in his lordship's face, indications of
crime which you would look for in vain in any other
situation."
There is a curious tale of a youth whose ragged
head was frequently to be seen in the dock of the
Old Bailey. It turns upon the affection of the crim-
inal for his pet counsel, and his utter dislike to be
86 BOW STREET POLICE-OFFICE.
defended by any one else. The youth had appeared
in the dock after having been at large only a short
time, and immediately objected to the case being pro-
ceeded with, as he was not properly represented by
counsel. The judge pointed out to him that that
must not be allowed to delay the trial. The pupil of
Fagin replied, " That won't do, my lord; my counsel
is Mr. , (naming a well-known barrister,) and
I cannot be tried without him." The judge postponed
the case till the next day, when the same little scene
was enacted, and the young rogue maintained that he
had paid for his counsel, and that he would be de-
fended by liim, and by no one else. At length, after
several similar delays, the case was adjourned until
the next session, when the barrister whom the "young
gentleman" had paid for appeared, and succeeded in
obtaining an acquittal.
In the many police-courts of London are to be wit-
nessed some queer scenes, and some phases of human-
ity that can be seen nowhere else. Go to Bow
Street or "Worship Street; and there, as has been said,
sits an educated gentleman, receiving 1,200 per
year, settling petty squabbles between quarrelsome
women, as part of the duties of his office. The most
ludicrous scenes take place during the testimony.
Take the following as recorded. A woman appears
as a complainant for an assault: the defendant is
placed in the bar.
His Worship: "Well."
Woman : " Please yer 'onor, this woman at the bar,
if she can call herself such "
" Now, no reflection on the defendant, if you
please."
"MBS. FINCH TOLD ME." 87
" Well, sir, ever since last Tuesday week, come last
Christmas "
" Never mind about Christmas ; tell us what hap-
pened."
" Please yer worship, she told Mr. Waters "
" Don't bother us with what she said to Mr. Waters ;
tell us what she said to you"
" Well, sir, Mrs. Finch told me "
" Never mind what Mrs. Finch told you."
" Please yer worship, I'm a lone, 'lorn widder, with-
out an 'usband to pertect my character, and I lives by
working 'ard at the tub for the support of nine chil-
dren, four living and five dead, and ever since that
female," &c.
The magistrate was compelled to let her tell her
story her own way.
Take another reported case. A forlorn-looking
Irishman, accompanied by his wife and two children,
is found begging, contrary to law. When brought
before the magistrate, they are examined separately,
the wife first, the others being out of the court.
" Now, my good woman, that's your husband, is
it?"
"Yes, please yer 'onor; and a honest, hard-work-
ing "
" Never mind that. When were you married to
him? "
"When, yer 'onor? Well, about twelve years ago,
and I "
" Where did the marriage take place? "
"Did ye say where? Yes, sir, I think it was in
Tipperary, and hard work it was "
" What is your husband's name? "
" His name, yer 'onor? Macarty, yer 'onor."
88 "AX MY WIFE."
" What was your name before you were married to
him? "
" Cromartie, yer 'onor."
"Are these your only children in twelve years? "
" Well, yer 'onor, they are the only darlings left to
us; or there would have been five, but for the three
that were taken from us by the typhus ; and a trouble
it was to raise the money "
" Call in the man."
" What's your name? "
" Kelly, yer 'onor."
" Oh, I thought it was Macarty."
" So it is, yer 'onor ; I didn't know it was my other
name ye were axing for."
"And so this woman is your wife, is she? "
" Yes, yer 'onor; and a hardworking "
" Wait a bit. What was her name before you were
married? "
" Well, yer 'onor, I hardly remember, for it was
a long time ago."
"A long time ago? "
" Not exactly that; I meant about seven years ago,
and it's a long time to remember a name that you have
no further use for."
" Oh, then you've been married seven years? "
"About that; but if ye'll ax my wife "
" Where were you married? "
"I'm not sure, yer 'onor; I've a bad memory; but
if ye'll ax my wife "
" Surely you remember where you were married? "
" Well then, I think it was Dublin, to the best of
my belief."
" Then if your wife said Cork "
" Oh, certainly; yes, Cork it was."
"I'M NO SCHOLAR." 89
" How many children have you? "
" There is the two darlings in court to-day, yer
'onor."
" Oh, but haven't you lost some children? "
The woman, who has remained in court, slyly holds
up three fingers.
" Please yer 'onor, I did not think of the three that
died with the measles."
" But how many have you had? "
The woman holds up five fingers ; the man mistakes
her meaning.
" Well, I never thought to mention the five we
have in service."
"How many children do you make of it alto-
gether? "
" Please yer 'onor, I'm no hand at calculations ; but
if ye'll ax "
"I think I can help you. Two here to-day, three
dead, five in service, that makes ten, ten children
in seven years! Can you explain that? "
"Well yer 'onor, I'm no scholar; but if ye'll ax my
wife "
" Stand down ; put the boy in the box "
"Now, boy, look at me; where's your father and
mother?"
"Please sir, my father's in jail, and my mother sells
oranges in the street."
And so it turns out that these children are rented
at sixpence a day to these street beggars, and they
are committed as rogues and vagabonds.
One can always see or hear something amusing in
a police court. When I was in the city, the follow-
ing dialogue took place between a sweep, who was as
black as an African, and the presiding magistrate.
90 A PAINTED SPARROW.
Said the latter, " My good man, how often do you
wash yourself ? "
" Once a week, regular, whether I wants it or not."
"Well, you might wash yourself more often, I
think."
" I cleans myself of a Sunday, sir."
The sweep was evidently a strict disciplinarian;
there was no shrinking from the weekly tub, no
namby-pamby thoughts that perhaps it might be as
well to postpone the painful operation till a warmer
day. No, the sweep was above all that. And you can
see some heart-rending cases of brutality, especially
to women. Drunkenness brings nine-tenths of the
cases to the police court. A few weeks ago, a cler-
gyman of the Church of England was brought up
and fined five shillings for drunkenness. The next
case was a physician, fined the same sum and costs
for the same offence; and in another court that day,
one, who called himself a gentleman, and refused to
give his name, was committed for drunkenness. Ahl
If I should go on, I could fill page after page with
the records of the doings of drink.
Some people are easily taken in. In horse trades,
all tricks seem to be lawful. It is just the same in
London with the birds. The latest example of this
kind of swindling was exposed lately in a London
police court. The swindler was charged with obtain-
ing a watch from a pot-man, by palming off on him a
painted sparrow for a piping bullfinch. When the
next morning came, the imposition was detected.
There was a further charge against the same person
of obtaining a diamond ring, value 10, from a
medical student, by pretending that a common star-
ling was a rare American bird. Of course the pris-
THE BARNACLES. 91
oner was convicted; but doubtless he had taken many
people in, in a similar manner.
The glorious uncertainty of the law was illustrated
about the same time, in the case of a William Smith,
charged with walking off from Covent Garden with a
basket of cherries without the owner's consent. In
mitigation, he pleaded that the porter ought to have
stopped him sooner, and not to have allowed him to
go so far. The vindication apparently satisfied the
court, and he was discharged, when he said, " Yould
yer lordship give me a few coppers, as I have only
twopence-halfpenny in the world." Actually, the
judge and jury and counsel took up a collection for
his benefit. There is another tale told in which the
case did not end quite so happily for the defendant,
who had stolen a piece of bacon, and was asked how
far he had carried it. " O, only a hundred yards or
so, yer lordship," was the man's reply. " Ah, well,"
said the judge meditatively, "then I am afraid you
have carried the joke a little too far. Three months'
imprisonment."
It was Dickens who gave the name of Barnacle to
the officials and employees in the public offices; and
I believe that many are still making John Bull bleed
pretty freely, by giving him as little work as they
possibly can for their money. In 1857-58, the sum
required for the civil service was 14,300,000. In
1877-78, the estimates were 23,400,000, being an
increase of 9,000,000 during a period of what was
termed reorganization and retrenchment. A little
while ago, a new writer was appointed to work with
the Barnacles in the custom-house. He says that
when he took to his work in the way he was accus-
tomed to do it in the city warehouses, every eye was
92 HOW NOT TO DO IT.
turned upon him, with an expression of the deepest
pity and amazement. Suddenly, a bit of paper fell upon
his book; the writing on it ran thus, "A nod's as
good as a wink to a blind horse." The new hand
says he went on with his work harder than ever.
Then came another bit of paper, " Why work so
desperately hard? Nobody works hard here." Re-
gardless of the advice, he kept on writing as if he
were in a commercial warehouse in the city.
In a few minutes, an angry voice sounded in his
ear: "For God's sake, man, don't work like that;
you'll have the whole office against you, and you
won't do yourself a bit of good."
" Indeed! " was the reply.
" Yes, it is a fact. Nobble's got to give you the
next book when you've done, and he won't be ready
for you before next Saturday."
Now the natural query of the new employee was,
how he should kill the remaining time.
" Why," said the older Barnacle, " look about you,
read the papers, do a bit, then stop and rest. If you
don't, all the fellows in the Barnacle office will be
dead against you." It was there, the man tells us,
that he first learned his lesson in " how not to do it."
He began to look about him, and to dawdle over his
work. Somehow he discovered, as he confessed, that
to look about him and to daily grumble, are the chief
occupations of her Majesty's Barnacles.
CHAPTEK VI.
LIFE AMONG COSTERMONGERS, BEGGARS, AND
THIEVES. SCENES AT VICTORIA THEATRE.
The Costermongers " Picking up Crusts " Street Fellowship
Religion and Respectability Kindness appreciated Children
near Houndsditch The Coster Boy In Business for Himself
Chaffing a " Peeler " Forgiveness a Rare Trait The Coster Girl
Profound Ignorance Forced to Cheat "It's werry 'ard, isn't
it, Sir?" Shaming the Donkey Costermonger's Education
Victoria Theatre The Multitude of Boys and Girls Excitements
in the Gallery " Pull hup that 'ere Vinder Blind " " Light up the
Moon " Reception of a Tragedy Whitechapel and Butchers' Row
Scene of a Saturday Night Penny Gaff or Theatre Dirt, Smoke,
and Vulgarity " 'Ere's yer Pannyrammar " " Legitimit Dramay "
Ratcliffe Highway Ballad Singers Street Scenes Catching
Sailors The Sailor's " Futtergruff " Beer Houses and Gin Shops
Beggars and Thieves Inside a Thieves' Lodging House The
Countryman's Adventure, 93
OSTERMO]S"GERS deserve a passing
notice. They are a large and varied
class, numbering some sixty thousand,
seen nowhere else but in London or
some of the larger towns of England.
They pick up their living in the street,
selling anything by which they may, as
their saying is, " pick up a crust."
Charles Knight, in his " London," says : " The cos-
termonger was originally an apple-seller; a particu-
93
94 COSTEKMOtfGERS.
lar kind of apple, called a costard, gave them their
name."
The working life of a coster is spent in the streets,
and his leisure very much devoted to the beer-shop,
the dancing-room, and the theatre; yet there are ex-
ceptions, some of them being very sober, orderly,
God-fearing people. Home has few attractions to a
man whose life is a street-life. They have their own
beer-shops, theatres, and other places of amusement.
They are rather exclusive, and like to be let alone.
They are true to each other. If a coster falls ill, and
gets into the hospital, he is visited by scores of his
fellows.
Religion is rather a puzzle to the costermongers.
They see people coming out of church, and, as they
are mostly well-dressed, they somehow mix up being
religious with being respectable, and have a queer
sort of a feeling about it. They will listen to the
street-preacher; but I think the most unimpressible
of all with whom I have been brought into contact,
on purely moral and religious subjects, are the Lon-
don costermongers. They do not understand how it
is possible that you can feel any interest in their spir-
itual welfare ; but if you relieve the necessities of any
one in distress, you are at once popular.
Once near Houndsditch I saw some poor, pinched
little creatures playing in the gutter. I said to one,
"Do you want an orange?" The child looked up,
half timid, half scared, and said nothing. I stepped
up to the stand and took an orange, and oifered it to
the child; it was at once taken; and then they flocked
around me, and I must have given twenty or thirty
oranges away, when I saw a group of costers looking
on. As I left the crowd, the men gave a hurrah, and
SHARP AS TERRIERS. 95
said, " That's a gentleman ; " whereas if I had offered
them a tract, I might have had some chaffing. But
the city missionaries, of whom I shall speak in another
chapter, are doing great good among them.
The life of a coster-boy is a hard one from morning
till night: at first hallooing for his father, then in
business for himself with a barrow; next he looks
out for a girl to keep house for him. Very many are
not married to the women with whom they live, yet
they are very jealous, and sometimes behave very
badly to the girl. One fellow about sixteen said to
Mr. Mayhew, " If I seed my gal a-talking to another
chap, I'd fetch her sich a punch of the 'ed as 'ud
precious soon settle that matter."
These boys are very keen; as an old coster said,
" These young 'uns are as sharp as terriers, and learns
the business in half no time. I know vun, hate years
old, that'll chaff a peeler monstrous sewere."
As I said, they have strange ideas about religion.
In the " London Labor and London Poor " there are
very many interesting details in reference to this class,
and several conversations between Mr. Mayhew and
the street-folk are reported. One of them said, "I
'ave heerd about Christianity; but if a cove vos to
fetch me a lick of the 'ed, I'd give it to 'im again,
vether he was a little vun or a big 'tin." The idea of
forgiving injuries and loving enemies seems to them
absurd. One said, " I'd precious soon see a henemy
of mine shot afore I'd forgive 'im." Said another,
" I've heerd of this 'ere creation you speaks about.
In coorse God Almighty made the world, but the
bricklayers made the 'ouses; that's my opinion. I
heerd a little about the Saviour: they seem to say He
vos a goodish sort of a man; but if He says that a
96 "IT'S WERRY 'ARD ON us."
cove is to forgive a feller as 'its 'im, I should say that
He knows nothing about it." Another said, " I know
they says in the Lord's Prayer, l Forgive us our tres-
passes as we forgive them;' but no coster can't
do it,"
The coster-girl's life is very sad : her time, from her
earliest years, is fully occupied in doing or getting
something. " Education? vy, that von't earn a gal a
living ! " Mind, heart, soul, all absorbed in the strug-
gle to live! One of the coster-girls said, in reply to
some questions, " Father told me that God made the
world, and the first man and woman; but that must
have been more than a hundred years ago. Father
told us that the Saviour gin poor people a penny loaf
and a bit of fish vonce ; which shows He was a werry
kind gentleman. He made the ten commandments
and the miracles." When questioned on the principle
of forgiveness, she said, " I don't think I could for-
give a henemy. I don't know vy, excep' I'm poor and
never learned." Said another girl, " It seems to me
vonderful that this 'ere vorld vos made in six days.
I should have thought that London vould have took
up double that time. If ve cheats, ve shan't go to
'even; but it's werry 'ard on us, 'cos customers vants
happles for less than they cost us, so ve're forced to
shove in bad 'uns with the good 'uns ; and if we've to be
shut out of 'even for that, it's werry 'ard, isn't it, sir? "
There are grades among the coster-mongers, some
of them more intelligent than this; sometimes they
keep donkeys, and are occasionally very kind to them.
Driving up Holborn Hill, one of these donkeys, in
spite of all coaxing, refused to go farther; so the
man took the animal out of the shafts, and began
pulling the cart up the hill. Some one asked why he
VICTORIA THEATHE. 97
did that. "Oh, I'm trying to shame 'im into it."
Some drive a barrow, and many carry their loads on
their heads. They are a peculiar folk, and we mourn
over the ignorance and immorality of this large class ;
but we shall be less surprised at it if we visit their
places of amusement, or what may be called their
" educational institutions."
Victoria theatre is the great place of amusement
for a coster-monger. By a little management, we get
a seat in the side or sixpenny gallery. On an attrac-
tive night, the rush to the threepenny gallery of the
" Vic " (as it is called) is aw T ful. We have a good
view of them. It is the largest gallery in London;
it will hold 1,500 to 2,000 persons. The majority of
visitors are lads from twelve to fifteen years of age,
and young girls are very plentiful. When the theatre
is well packed, it is usual to see crowds of boys on
each other's shoulders at the back of the gallery. As
you look up the vast slanting mass of heads, each one
appears on the move. The huge heap dotted with
faces, spotted with white shirt sleeves, almost pains
the eye; and when they clap their hands, the twinkling
nearly blinds you. The men take off their coats, and
the bonnets of the women are hung over the iron rail-
ing in front; and one of the amusements of the lads is
to pitch orange peel and nutshells into them a good
aim being rewarded with shouts of laughter. When
the orchestra begins, you cannot hear the music. It
is laughable to see the puffed cheeks of the trumpet-
ers, the quick sawing of the fiddlers, the rise and fall
of the drum-sticks, and to hear no music. But we
have not come for music or performance, but to see
this wonderful audience, to be seen nowhere else
than in the galleries of the "Victoria." Hear them I
7
98 A PENNYWORTH OF LIVELINESS.
" Bill, Holloa ! " " What's hup ? " " Where's Sal ? "
"Ha, ha, ha. Bob!" "Holloa!" Look! see that
boy coming actually over the heads of the ' mass ; he
must roll over into the pit below! No, they catch
him! See the confusion! There's a fight; every
man rises from his seat; a dozen pair of arms fall to;
and the whole gallery moves about like eels, with
shouts, and screams of " Bravo ! "
In the midst of all this uproar, the curtain rises,
when there are cries of "Order;" " Silence;" "Down
in front;" "Hats hoff." They fall into their places
as merry as if nothing had happened. If the curtain
is not high enough to suit them, they will sing out.
" Pull hup that 'ere vinder-blind ; " " Higher the
blue;" "Light up the moon." To the orchestra,
the minute the curtain is down, " Now, then, catgut-
scrapers, give us a pennyworth of liveliness." The
" Yic " gallery is not moved by sentiment; a hornpipe
or a terrific combat is sure to be encored. A grand
^banquet on the stage is certain to call forth, " Here,
give us a bit of that 'ere?" All affecting situations
.are interrupted with, " Blow that," or else the vo-
ciferous cry of " O-r-d-a-r-e." The heroine begging
for her father's life is told to " Speak hup, hold gal ! "
But if the heroine should turn up her cuffs, and seize
on one or two soldiers and shake them by the collar,
the enthusiasm would know no bounds, and " Go it,
my tulip," would resound from every throat. Comic
songs and dances are popular; and during a highland
fling, the stamping of feet, beating time, and the
whistling drown the music. But the great hit of the
evening is when a song is to be sung in which all can
join in the chorus. While the solo is rendered, all is
.still. If any one should break in before the time, the
CURIOUS PERFORMANCE. 99
cry is " O-r-d-a-a-r," and at the proper time the noise is
almost deafening. Sometimes the singer on the stage
will give the cue, " Now, then, gentlemen, the Hexeter
'all touch, if you please," beating time with his hand,
to their uncontrollable delight, and there is sure to be
an encore to that. Occasionally, a heavy tragedy is
tolerated, and sometimes in parts listened to; but a
terrific combat must be introduced in something of
this style, with accompaniments.
Actor. "Ha! sayestthou?"
Audience. (Get over on t'other side.)
Actor. " Aye ! by the mass."
Audience. ( Cut away, hold feller.)
Actor. " Have at thee, then."
Audience. (Go it, tigJits.)
Actor. " Thy life- or mine."
Audience. (Play hup,fusic.)
Actor. " Blood shall wipe out blood."
And at it they go, striking one another's swords:
the more fire they strike out, the better. One, two,
three; keeping time, advancing and retreating; one
makes a blow at the other's feet, who, jumping a yard
high, comes down with his hands on his knees, crying
out, " No, ye don't," to the rapturous applause of the
audience, after a sword exercise, reminding you of
" Crummies " in " Nicholas Nickleby." One falls ; the
other, about to dispatch him, is prevented by some
heroine; they separate with
" We shall meet again, Sir Count."
Then, if the tragedy is very heavy, they will hear
it, especially if the actor mouths and rants. This is
a favorite style:
" Ha-ha-ha-ha, what have I ha-ha to do ha-
ha-ha with ha-ha happiness."
100 DOWN WHITECHAPEL WAT.
Sometimes they will join in a running accompani-
ment, and woe to the actor who shall lose his temper.
The great object seems to be to make the tragedian
laugh. Some poor luckless wight perhaps is cast for
Richard III., and the performance commences some-
thing like this :
"]^ow is the. winter of our discontent "
("Louder! Louder! 'old hup yer 'ed")
" Made glorious summer by this sun of York."
("Hooray! Brayvo, old feller !")
" And all the clouds that lowered above our house "
("Meauw; Bow-wow; Hooray!")
" In the deep bosom of the ocean buried."
(" Blow that 'ere; lioff, hoff, hooray ! did yer go to
the funeral?") and so on, whenever this poor victim
makes his appearance. Sometimes these actors are
mere sticks. I heard of one who rendered the pas-
sage
" Instead of mounting barbed steeds,
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries," &c.,
thus
" Instead of mounting bare bedsteads,
To fright," &c.
Let us take a run down to Whitechapel, past St.
Paul's, through Cheapside, strike up Cornhill, cross
Grace Church Street! Oh, how fascinating to me is
a night ride or stroll in London streets ! We cross the
Minories and we are in Butchers' Row,* Whitechapel.
The gas glares from primitive tubes on a long vista of
meat, meat, meat everywhere legs, loins, shoulders,
ribs, hearts, livers, kidneys buy, buy, buy. Along
the whole line are every description of butchers cry-
ing out "buy, buy." Women are here by scores,
* Part of this description I have borrowed from "Household Words."
BUTCHERS' BOW. 101
pretty, ugly, old, young all chaffering, higgling,
beating down, and joking. On the opposite side of
the pavement are the interminable lines of trucks, bar-
rows, baskets, boards on trestles laden with oysters,
vegetables, fruit, combs, ballads, cakes, fried fish, arti-
ficial flowers, chairs, brooms, soap, candles, crockery-
ware, iron-ware, cheese, walking-sticks, looking-
glasses, frying-pans, Bibles, toys, fire-wood, and so
on. Here's a woman fiercely beating down the price
of carrots, while that newly married artisan's wife,
who has just begun life as a housekeeper, looks on
bewildered and timid. Here's a blackguard boy, with
a painted face, tumbling head over heels in the mud
for a halfpenny. Oh, the noise of Butchers' Row,
Whitechapel, especially on a Saturday night ! Yelling,
screeching, howling, swearing, fighting, laughing.
It's a combination of commerce, fun, frolic, cheating,
begging, thieving, deviltry, short pipes, thick sticks,
mouldy umbrellas, dirty faces, and ragged coats.
Here are gin palaces in profusion. The company
such as you see nowhere else, yet, as I said before, the
sameness is sickening. In some of them it is hardly
safe to venture without a policeman ; very few bar-
maids men, strong, stout, fighting-men dispense the
liquor.
Let us step into this penny gaff or theatre. "We are
now past Butchers' Row and out in High Street,
Whitechapel. " Vun penny, if you please, hunless
you takes a stall, and them's tuppence." We take a
stall ; the place is horribly dirty. A low stage at one
end, and the body filled with the company. Oh, what
a company ! Some light their pipes at the foot-lights
for two-thirds are smoking. The curtain rises, a
man and woman sing a comic duet; they quarrel, they
102 RATCLLFFE HIGHWAY.
fight, they make up again ; but towards the close
ugh! it's too vile, let us come away. We leave just
as a young lady, in a cotton velvet spencer, short
white calico skirt, bare arms and neck, is received
with screams of applause. " Here's your pannyram-
mer," says a man with a blackened face, at the door of
a dirty den, " honly a penny ; " and we enter. We
sit for a few minutes, but we can make neither head
nor tail to the matter; but we are here to see the
company, and it is the same as at the gaif.
Cross over the street there's another. Hear the
doorkeeper that little stunted, pockmarked man,
with small keen eyes, " 'Ere's the legitimit dramay;
threepence for the stalls if you please." There's a
fellow on the stage, evidently doing a heavy business.
Hear him rant to the awe-struck audience.
" May you blew Evin a
Pour a down rew-ing a
Hon the tarator's 'ed."
That'll do. We come out, and before we turn down to
Ratcliffe Highway, take another look at Whitechapel,
shops, gaffs, thieves, and beggars.
Katcliffe Highway lies contiguous to the port of
London, and always has a strong offensive, sickening
odor of fish fried in oil. As we pass down the
street, you notice the shops, and the character of the
wares : enormous boots, oil-skin caps, coats and trow-
sers, rough woollen shirts, compasses and charts, huge
silver watches and glaring jewelry, fried fish, second-
hand clothes. Everything has a nautical adaptation.
The ballad-singers deal in nautical songs. See that
poor, half-naked man, with an old tarpaulin on his
head. Hound him gather a crowd of men, women
A BALLAD SINGER. 103
and children. He sings with more energy than har-
mony, and bawls more fact than poetry. Hear him.
" Come all good Keristians
And give attenshin
Unto these lines I will unfold
With heartfelt feel inks
To you I'll menshin.
I'm sure that it will make
Your werry hearts'-blood run cold.
The good ship Mariar, she
Sailed from the Humber
On the twenty-fourth of October,
Eighten hundred and forty- three.
Her crew was seven men and a boy in number,
Which was all swallowed up by the raging sea."
Hartley Coleridge said " There is certainly nothing
so lugubrious as the cracked voice of a ballad-singer
in a dull, ill-lighted back street, on a rainy night in
November."
Up and down Ratcliffe Highway, the sailors of
every country stroll. Negroes, Lascars, Britons, Ital-
ians, Yankees, Danes, men who worship a hundred
gods and men who worship none. Now let us walk
carefully, taking no notice of any remarks as we ex-
plore. Here is where poor Jack is " taken in and
done for." Whatever Jack may be at sea, on shore
he is often the weakest and simplest of men, and
there is but little need to cover the hook with bait to
catch him. When ashore, he seems to have but one
idea, that is to spend as much money in as short a time
as possible. A photographer in Plymouth told me
that a shock-headed, jolly-looking, but by no means
handsome sailor, came in one day, " Here, ship-
mate, I want a futtergruif, as 'andsome as never you
104 THE HANDSOME " FOTTERGRUFF."
can make it." The " futtergruff " was taken. " That
me? That's too blessed hugly; I want it for my
mother and sister, and I shan't send such a looking
chap as that ere down, as me. Take another."
Another and another was taken, but none was satis-
factory, and by his wonderful efforts to look handsome,
the pictures were anything but flattering. At last,
looking at the pictures on the wall, he said, " Why
don't you make as 'andsum one as that ere?" point-
ing out the most genteel among them all. " Come,
shipmate, sell me vun of them;" and he actually
bought and paid for one frame and all, and went
away happy to think he had got a " futtergruff "
that would do him credit at home.
Every few yards we come to a beer-house, or gin-
shop, doorways temptingly open; from the upper
rooms come the tramp of feet and the sound of the
violin. Attached to many of the houses is a crew of
infamous women to tempt Jack in to treat them. His
drink is drugged, and against their villany he has no
chance. It is said that many so-called respectable
people have made fortunes there. Grog and dancing
meet us at every turn. Women wild-eyed, bois-
terous, cheeks red with rouge, flabby with intem-
perance, decked with ribbons of gayest hue, all coarse,
insolent, unlovely dancing in the beer-shop, drink-
ing at the bar, all bent on victimizing the poor
sailor.
Let us take a peep into this Music Hall. See how
crowded it is with sailors and women seated with pots
of porter before them; every tar, and some of the
women, with pipes, listening to songs, and witnessing
performances of a very questionable moral character,
and not very artistic. Some of these places of amuse-
THIEVES' LODGINGS. 105
ment are of too low a character to be described, yet
licensed by Act of Parliament. By-and-by the grog
will do its work. Then unruly tongues are loosed;
there are quarrels and blows ; heads broken ; cries of
" police ! " victims for the hospital, station-house, or
lunatic asylum; and perhaps some poor wretch, mad-
dened by drink and shame, plunges into the muddy
waters of the nearest neighboring dock, seeking
vainly the oblivion never found in the dancing, drink-
ing-houses of Ratcliffe Highway.
I made some explorations among the beggars and
thieves of London; sometimes with police officers, at
other times with city missionaries in the thieves' dis-
trict. You get more information in company with a
missionary than with a policeman; for while the latter
knows almost every thief in the city, the thief knows
every policeman, whether in uniform or not, and they
are generally reticent while in their presence.
Come with me, and I will show you where the
lowest class live; come down this narrow street, as
we advance, picking our way through kennels, stum-
bling over heaps of rubbish and oyster-shells. All
the repulsive and hideous features of the place are
disclosed before us. Every human being seems bru-
talized and degraded. We go down this dark and
noisome alley; as the detective lifts the latch of the
door, we enter a sort of kitchen, this is a thieves'
ken or lodging-house. On one side there is a long
table, at which sit a number of men of sinister aspect.
The principal light is afforded by a candle stuck
against the wall. In one corner, with his head resting
on a heap of coals, lies a boy as black as a chimney-
sweeper, that is the waiter. " Here's some com-
pany come to see you, lads! Here you, stand up
106 PICKPOCKETS' TRICKS.
and take off your cap." You see the thief cowers
before the representative of law, lawless as he is.
Let the officer simply say, " My lad, I want you," he
would probably turn to the others and say, " Good-
by, coves," and march off without another word. As
we turn to leave them, we see by the expression of
their faces that we are not wanted.
They have but very little mercy on their victims.
I was told that a countryman was leaning 011 the
parapet of one of the bridges in London, when he
was accosted by a thief.
" Nice river."
" Ees, I'se been looking at it awhile ; wot lots of
ships ! "
" Lord love ye, them ain't ships, they are boats ; vos
you never in London before? "
" No, I never was."
" You'll have to look out sharp."
"Why, what for?"
" For the thieves ; the pickpockets will get all your
money."
"No, they won't. I aren't afeard of a pick-
pocket."
" Perhaps you ain't got no money."
" Oh, ees I have. I got a sovereign."
" Yere do you keep it? "
" Ah, that's telling."
" Oh, I know; you keep it in yer handkerchief back
of yer neck."
"No, I don't."
" Then you keeps it in yer stocking."
"No, I don't. I don't mind telling where I do
keep it; ha! ha! I've got it in my mouth, right agin
AN INNOCENT COUNTRYMAN. 109
my cheek, away back; and no thief will get that, I
know."
" You're a deep one, you are. Good day."
In a short time, a boy runs up against the country-
man, and drops a handful of coppers, with one or two
pieces of silver, " Oh, dear! oh, dear! my money,"
and commences to pick it up, assisted by the country-
man and others, who gather as a crowd will gather at
a moment's notice in London. Still, when all the
pieces had been returned to the boy, he cried, " Oh,
my money ! my money ! " Some one said, " Have you
not got your money? " "Oh, no; I 'ad a sovereign!
I 'ad a sovereign ! "
Up steps the thief, who had come, mingling with
the crowd. " You've lost a sovereign, 'ave ye ? "
*" Yes, sir. Oh, dear! oh, dear!"
" Yy, I see that chap there," pointing to the coun-
tryman, "pick up something, and put it in his
mouth."
At this the countryman stands bewildered, till some
one cries out, " Find out whether he's got it; " another
catches him by the throat, and squeezing him till
nearly choking, to save himself from strangulation he
ejects the sovereign, which is given to the boy, with a
great deal of sympathy. The poor countryman is
hustled by the crowd, and may consider himself lucky
if he escapes a ducking in the river.
CHAPTEE YH.
HAUNTS OF CRIME. THE CITY MISSIONARIES OF
LONDON AND THEIR WORK.
London essentially cosmopolitan Byron's " Superb Menagerie "
Thackeray's "Vanity Fair" Solitude in the Crowd Munificent
Charities Cures for every 111 The Aristocracy Extremes of
Character The Middle Class Homes of Virtue "The Bray of
Exeter Hall " City Missionaries Heroism in " Little Hell "
" Never rob a Parson " Training-Schools for Thieves Practising
at picking Pockets" Perverse Judgments of Perverse Natures'
At Enmity with the World "The Gospel-Grinder" Philosophy
of a Boy -Thief Selling "Hinguns" A Rough-and-Ready Mis-
sionary "No Genus in picking a Pocket" "Fear makes Cow-
ards of us " Religion hurts the Business A Publican spoiled
Real Courage The Sermon of the Converted Sweep Parable
of the Ignorant Cabman Rough Welcome to the Preacher.
CXNDO^sT and its people are an inex-
haustible theme. The different opin-
ions of different people about London
would fill volumes. Dr. Johnson says:
" I have often amused myself with
thinking how different a place London
is to different people. A politician
thinks of it merely as the seat of gov-
'ernment; a grazier, as a great mart for cat-
tle; a man of pleasure, as an assemblage of taverns
and theatres; a mercantile man, as a place where a
prodigious amount of business is done upon 'Change ;
but the intellectual man is struck with it as compre-
110
INEXHAUSTIBLE LONDON". Ill
*
hending the whole of human life in all its variety, the
contemplation of which is inexhaustible." The same
great authority declared that Fleet Street contained
" the most sublime and picturesque combinations of
objects within the periphery of our terraqueous ball."
On another occasion the sage exclaims : " Sir, no man
that is at all intellectual will leave London. No, sir.
When he has exhausted London, he has exhausted
life; for there is in London all that life can afford."
" The literature of England, of Europe, of the world,
at any place or any time," wrote the author of " Mod-
ern Babylon," " contains not a page, a volume, or a
book so mighty in import, so magnificent in explana-
tion, as the single word London." Byron called
London " one superb menagerie ; " Cobbett called it
" a great wen;" Thackeray called it " Vanity Fair."
Charles Lamb, Horace Smith, and other wits, could
live nowhere but in London. As these men loved
London for its society, so other men love it for its
quiet. "A man of letters," writes the elder D'Israeli,
" more intent on the acquisitions of literature than on
the intrigues of politicians or the speculations of com-
merce, may find a deeper solitude in the populous
metropolis than in the seclusion of the country."
Gibbon in the same spirit tells us: "While coaches
were rattling through Bond Street, I have passed
many a solitary evening in my lodgings with my
books. I withdrew without reluctance from the noisy
and extensive scene of crowds without company and
dissipation without pleasure."
The philanthropist may contemplate with delightful
astonishment the amazing charities of London. All
thoughtful foreign visitors are struck with the mu-
nificence and charities of London. What a noble
112 EXTREMES OF SOCIETY.
V
array of charities for the sick body, the suddenly dis-
abled by accident, the means of cure for blinded
eyes, for deafened ears, for the cough of the con-
sumptive, and the tearing fingers of cancer! In
short, there is a refuge in London for almost every
bodily ill, where all that science, skill, and experience
can do is freely given to the poorest. How these
streams are kept in a perennial flow you see by the
words carved high on all these noble institutions:
" Supported by voluntary contribution."
I have dwelt long on the darker shades of London
life, on some saddening parts of it. I have given you
my experiences, the results of observation and inves-
tigation; described to you scenes I have looked on,
and shown you pictures of a certain phase of life in
the great metropolis; I have brought before you what
are termed the "lower classes," between whom and
the higher classes, the aristocracy and nobility, there
is a " great gulf fixed," across which I have never
attempted to pass, and should probably have been
foiled if I had. I can tell you nothing of the habits,
manners, or customs of that class, and will only say
that among them there are some of the noblest and
some of the meanest of mankind, the most liberal and
the most conservative, the most sympathetic and the
most heartless. We know this from their work, not
by contact with them, except on occasions when their
benevolence and desire to advance the interests of
the people have brought us together for a brief space.
But between the two extremes of society we find
most of the active benevolence, the saving influences ;
and it is delightful to know that in London, with all
its crime and poverty and degradation, there are so
many thousand rills of loving and holy effort to heal
KOMAXCE OF THE STREETS. 113
the moral sicknesses. We can only faintly picture the
household fires gleaming warm and bright on groups
where cultivated parents so train and guard the chil-
dren as to see them walk the path of life with un-
spotted garments. Space would fail to record the
pure pleasures, the lovely social gatherings ; the quiet
plans of employers to make those who serve them
wise concerning the good, and simple concerning the
evil; the scores of meetings every night pulsating
with hearty effort to dry up the fountain of sin and
suffering, and to get help from above in a work that,
in the aggregate, is enough to appall the most cour-
ageous benevolence. I could tell you of Exeter Hall,
now purchased by the Young Men's Christian Asso-
ciation, the name having been for years the synonyme
for benevolent and reformatory effort. This Exeter
Hall influence on religion and reformatory progress
was unwillingly avowed when, in a moment of vexa-
tion at its blocking his path in some degree, a great
man called it, in his place before the people, " the
bray of Exeter Hall." "We will show you some of
the modes of operation outside the direct teaching
and influence of the churches.
The City Missionaries are indeed a self-denying
class of men, living on a bare pittance, and often
sharing their poor crust with the destitute. They
are not " Stigginses," nor " Chadbands," nor " red-
nosed shepherds." From my heart I pity those who
can find no better representatives of these Christian
workers. Read the following, from the "Romance
of the Streets," relating to a missionary : " During
fifteen years he worked in one of the worst districts
of the metropolis, in the rear of Lisson Grove. In
one street, known by the name of ' Little Hell,' he
114 CITY MISSIONARIES.
attended eighty-five cases of typhus fever. As a
common visitor among divers diseases, he has never
personally suffered, but his children have more than
once been prostrated by infection carried home. In
this infamous rookery he walked safely at all hours
among the haunts of the most vicious of our race, so
completely were the respect and confidence of the
inhabitants gained. There was not a ruffian in the
entire length of the street who would not have de-
fended the < parson ' by word and hand, had occasion
arisen."
One may ask what possible good can a religious
teacher do among this class. Frequently one of these
missionaries seems to be qualified in a remarkable de-
gree for this work. It is not by his soft speech nor
his polished eloquence, but often in a blunt, rough-
and-ready way; he will lose no chance of warning
the younger ones of the evil of their ways. All these
are wonderful men, going about their business in a
cheerful, hopeful way, humming snatches of hymns.
Sometimes the missionary will rescue a wife out of
the cruel hands of her brutal husband, when police-
men are loath to interfere. One of them told me that
he had never lost anything but once, though he had
worked amongst them sixteen years, and then a boy
brought his handkerchief back to him the next day,
apologizing that it was a new boy that took it, " vot
didn't know the missionary."
Rev. Charles Stovel said, in a speech at Exeter
Hall: "Passing down Rosemary Lane, one night, a
handkerchief was extracted from my pocket by a lad,
who ran away with it. Soon afterwards, however, he
returned and said, * Please, sir, is this yours?' * Yes,
it is,' I replied. ' Take it,' said he, and then added,
NEVER BOB A PAHS(XN". 115
' Please, sir, give me something for bringing it back.'
'No, my boy,' I said, 'I must not do that; but I will
leave a little book for you with my friend here.' The
boy came the next day to the house of my friend, and
said, ' Please, sir, was not that a minister?' 'Yes,'
was the answer. <Ah, well,' said the boy, 'I will
never rob a parson, for God's sake.' "
It is pitiful to know that so many are trained as
thieves. A city missionary has described how they
are schooled. He says : " I found a room in my dis-
trict in which children of both sexes were instructed
on the doll. The image of a lady or a gentleman was
dressed and suspended from the ceiling. A purse
containing sixpence was placed in the pockets; a bell
was hung on a spring in the inside of the figure ; the
youth who could extract the purse without ringing
the bell, got the sixpence."
One man who pursued his mission among them
said, that what renders their case almost hopeless is
the fact that they have no faith in the sincerity, hon-
esty, or goodness of human nature; they believe
other people are no better than themselves, and will
do a wrong thing when it suits their purpose as
readily as they will. Only those who have tried the
experiment can tell how difficult it is to make a thief
believe you are disinterested, and mean him well.
They have an ingrained conviction that you are
wrong not they. You are wrong in appropriating
the good things, leaving none for them, but such as
they can steal. They are taught that the clergy are
hypocrites, the magistrates tyrants, the policeman
their natural foe, and all honest people their bitter
enemies.
With the city missionary, you may obtain information
8
116 "VALLOPING 'UBTS."
from them. For although they call him the " Gospel
grinder," they are often quite free in their communi-
cations to him and before him. Once, exploring with
a gentleman who had been very successful, he said,
"These boys you see pitching pennies are thieves.
I will call one of them, and ask him some questions.
1 Jem!' 'Veil?' 'Come here.' 'All right.' 'I
want you to give this gentleman some information.'
e All right ye are again, sir.' ' What makes boys
thieves ? ' ' Yell, sir, because they von't let a boy get
an 'onest living.' How's that? ' ' Yell, I'll tell yer.
Suppose my father, he says, " Jem, you go out and
'oiler them inguns; you bring me back so much
money or enough inguns to make your accounts
square, or I'll vallop ye ; " and boys don't like val-
loping, it 'urts. So I goes hout and 'oilers the inguns.
I gets tired. I've been at it all day, and don't sell
none. I sees a voman a-standing at her gate. I
think she's fly, so I says, " Please, ma'am, do you vant
to buy any inguns of a poor boy? " " How d'ye sell
'em?" she says. "Threepence ha'penny a bunch,
ma'am." "I'll give ye threepence." "Couldn't let
ye 'ave 'em for threepence." "Then I don't vont
'em." Now, vot vould a ha'penny be to her? Noth-
ing; but it's a good deal to me; so I goes on a-
'ollering. Another voman, she says, " 'Ow do ye sell
hinguns?" "Threepence ha'penny a bunch, ma'am."
"I'll give ye threepence ha'penny, if you throw a
couple of inguns in." Veil, I 'aven't sold any. I'm
tired, and I thinks perhaps I'll make it up off some-
body else; so I lets 'er 'ave 'em, and I'm ha'penny
short; and so it goes on; everybody thinking I'm
making a fortin selling inguns, and everybody beat-
ing on yer down. So I goes home short, and my
GENIUS AND CHEEK. 117
father vallops me, and sends me to bed without
nothing to eat, and ve precious soon finds out it's
easier to prig than it is to get an 'onest living, ven
everybody 's beating on yer down.' ' :
One boy not twenty said to me, " There ain't no
genius in picking a pocket; that's only sleight of 'and,
anybody could do that. I'll tell ye vere the genius
is. Ven you've got a gent's vipe out of his pocket,
and he turns round and says, ' Somebody's picked my
pocket,' and you look 'im right in the face and says,
1 'As there, sir? that werry 'ard on you, sir.' That's
cheek; that's genius." Another said, "The best lay
we 'as is where they stick up, l Beware of pickpock-
ets ! ' Venever you see that advertisement, there
you'll find the pickpockets ; in the post-office, round
the bank, or the railway station. You see, sir, some
cove 'as been to draw 'is dividends, or get money in
the Corn Exchange. Arter he gets 'is money, he
goes into the post-office or railway station, and ven
he sees that 'ere advertisement, he says to hisself,
1 Beware of pickpockets, so I must ; ' and then he
puts 'is 'and vere 'is money is, and ve sees 'im, and
finds out that he's got something, and vere he keeps
it; and them 'ere two pints gained, the result is werry
hobvious."
To return from the digression. "We ask what good
can be accomplished by Christian workers? One
point to gain is to make them dissatisfied with pres-
ent circumstances. Then you create a desire for
something better. A youthful thief said of the mis-
sion work : " This 'ere has done me a deal of harm.
Ill tell you why. Me and some of my pals here get
our living how we can; cause why? we've got no
characters, and nobody won't employ us. Ve can't
118 GOD SEES YOU.
starve, don't you know, and vot's a cove to do?
Well, they're always preaching about God seeing
you, and the like of that. It makes a cove afeard,
it takes all the pluck out of me, I know. I never
thieve now, unless I'm forced to do it from hunger.
If I go arter a handkerchief, when the pinch comes,
I begin to think about God Almighty; for as they
say, you know, fear makes cowards of us."
There are missionaries who visit the public houses:
read a description of one. A writer says : " Instead
of a shabby-genteel, white-neckerchiefed creature of
the preacher type, as I expected to find, he was a
thick-set, determined-looking, being, who, with the
Bible in one pocket and a bundle of tracts in the
other, went forth to work among the dens in a very
matter-of-fact fashion." He is prepared for opposi-
tion, and argument or objection; but he is impertur-
bably good-tempered, and possesses an amazing
amount of courage and tact, often receiving a rebuff,
and then again a word in reply revealing a degree of
interest, and some conscience. A poor drunkard, a
young man, haggard, squalid, and ragged, received a
tract, when the missionary laid his hand on his shoul-
der, and said in a whisper, " We must all give an ac-
count of ourselves to God." " A pretty account mine
will be," was the answer, and so the way was open
for a talk. A missionary offered a tract to a young
medical student, as he was chatting with some of his
friends. He took it, and when he discovered what it
was, he said, " Please take it back; I have just passed
my examination, and I am out for a spree. I am not
in a fit state to have it; I am afraid I shall turn it into
ridicule."
Sometimes the good influence extends to the land-
PUBLIC-HOUSE MISSIONAHIES. . 119
lords. Some roughs were evidently in a bad humor;
something had ruffled them. "He won't serve you
now, if you're only a bit tight; and if you let slip a
word, he says, 'Now, then, that won't do in this
house." : "Well, he wasn't always so," said another;
"he used to be as good a chap as any, and could
swear a bit. I've heard him." " Ah," said a third,
" he's not fit to be a publican now. What made him
do so, do you know? " " Know! yes, to be sure I do.
Why, them missionary fellows walk bang into the
beer-shops now; and one's been in there, taking his
religion and his tracts with him, and he's so worked
on the landlord's mind that he's quite turned it, and
now he treats his customers in this way."
Sometimes the surprise of on-lookers at these
operations is singularly expressed. One said, "My
stars ! a public-house is a rum crib for spouting in.
Forty years I have been in and out of these cribs,
and never heard a spouter before. What next, I
wonder, after this? " One of the London newspapers
remarks : " When we first heard of missionaries visit-
ing public-houses, it struck us forcibly as casting
pearls before swine, and exposing men to unnecessary
insult and certain failure, but we were soon convinced
to the contrary. In these dens of iniquity the agents
seek out the very refuse, the dregs of humanity,
and with the good old Book in hand, carry to them
the news of a divine hope, even for the vilest of man-
kind. It may seem almost beyond belief, but such is
the tact, the courage, and efficiency of the agents em-
ployed in this particular work, that when they become
known to the habitual frequenters of any house, insult
or attempted injury would be instantly hooted down
by the company ; and, more strange still, the publicans
120 "THANKFUL FOE THAT."
themselves often welcome the Society's agents to their
doors, and do all that lies in their power to obtain a
quiet hearing for them. He is a bold, good man, who
in the excitement of battle, with the eyes of the world
upon him, and with the hope of the Victoria Cross
before him, rushes into the ranks of the enemy to
rescue a comrade from death; but he is a bolder and
nobler man who, without excitement, and with no
human rewards provided for him, can appear amid the
reeking orgies of a low London tap-room, and speak,
not only of wasted health, scattered wages, and de-
serted homes, but of souls lost, and to be redeemed
by the most costly offering that Bounty could bestow
for their salvation."
In some of the localities inhabited by costermongers
and the very poor, the missionaries' work has been
productive of great good. It is really delightful to
visit the renovated homes of some of these people.
Here in a poor apartment, with but very little com-
fort, we find a man unable to earn a living, sorely
afflicted and a cripple, with his Bible, and cheerful in
the prospect of a better inheritance. A woman who,
after paying her rent, has two shillings left for the
week, and a little bread and tea twice a day being her
customary fare, says she is " thankful for that." From
the often despised city missionary she has received
something better than earth's riches or prosperity.
Here in another room we find a costermonger and his
family, practising cleanliness and sobriety; and he is
only a type of many others brought under the influ-
ence of the Gospel by the missionary, which has pro-
duced in him self-respect, so that he is striving after
an honest independence, and often under difficulties.
One of the costers said, "Can't be religious nohow;
"HERE'S THE PABSON." 121
can't let the barrer be lazy on Sundays." But when
they accept the Gospel, you hear them exclaim,
" Don't work on Sundays now, sir. A good day for
trade I know, sir ; but I likes to trade with heaven on
Sundays, and learn a little about my soul there." One
will say, "I ain't a eddicated person, but I knows
wot's wot, and I know God never meant the likes of
us to be religious. ~Vy, don't yer see it couldn't be
done ! " Yet when such are reclaimed, their Christian
profession becomes very sincere, and their life a
zealous service. " I allus felt ashamed of myself,"
confessed a converted sweep, " when I seed the people
comin' out of church, and I'd been a cussin' and
swearin'. !Now, mates, you want to get to Heaven.
I'll tell you how to get there. Trust in Jesus Christ;
He'll never forsake yer. I, a poor sweep, am glad to
wash my face when my day's work is done; but how
much better to have Christ to wash your black soul ! "
" How do yer know you're going to Heaven? " asked
one of his old mates. " Well," said he, " how do you
know whether you've got sugar in your tea? "
The missionary must understand the method of ap-
proaching those he would help, and adapt his discourse
to the condition of his hearers. Approaching a com-
pany of cabmen who were gathered round a public-
house, one of them said, "Here's the parson, men,
vot goes round to make people religious." The mis-
sionary said, " I want to tell you rather a queer tale
about a young chap that thought he could be a cab-
man before he knew about the city," and then he quite
humorously described the poor fellow's perplexity
when he tried to find the Great Western Railway, and
hunted for it down Shoreditch, and then at the Bank,
and then at Whitechapel Church, and so on.
122 "BUSTEK, MY
The men were very much delighted with the graphic
description of the young man's blunders, and unani-
mously voted him a fool for driving round, when he
only had to ask, and almost anybody would have set
him right. When he had got them to this point, he
cried out, " Now you're all driving wrong, and you
should be civil to any one who knows the road, and
would set you right. Here is God's road-book,"
opening the Bible. "Let me tell you how sinners
may drive straight to Heaven.'* This was within the
compass of their intellect, and they thanked him, and
voted him to be a good sort of a fellow. One of
these self-denying and useful men relates that on one
occasion, when he called at a house where a large
number of rough men were gathered, one cried out,
" I say, mates, here's the gemman vot talks to poor
people about summut better ; " then to one who was
six feet tall, he said, " Now, Buster, my hinfant, I
vants you to 'ear the old buffer, 'cos you knows a
thing or two, it's regular stunning, and vot's more, it's
sometimes cutting." " Come, mister, give these 'ere
gents a stave; let's 'ear summut about that young
rascal vot bolted away from his poor old father; that
is a regular good thing, that is. Buster, my hinfant,
come hand over the cushion; and mister, you don't
object to our taking a smoke;" and the missionary
read the Parable of the Prodigal Son, with comments ;
and after half an hour he asked if they were tired,
and all cried out, " Gro on I go on] "
CHAPTER VIII.
WAR WITH VICE. ; TEMPERANCE WORK AMONG THE
DESTITUTE AND DEPRAVED.
Street - Preachers Fitness for their Work A Striking Scene
" Music with no Melody, Laughter with no Mirth " " Murder, Mur-
der, Police ! " The Street - Preacher and his Audience Plain
Preaching and its Power " Reformatory and Refuge Union "
Thirty-four Benevolent Institutions under One Control Good Work
of a Brewer's Son Lambeth Baths Hoxton Hall A Converted
Building William Noble's Mission The Blue - Ribbon Army
An Audience of Reformed Men " London Times " on Gough in
Hoxton Hall Report of the "Record" on the same Meeting
Four Great Branches of the Temperance Work United Kingdom
Alliance Temperance in Politics " Medical Temperance So-
ciety " " London Temperance Hospital " Eight Thousand Patients
in Six Years Medicine without Alcohol Results.
,HILE the missionaries' work is
exceedingly interesting and fasci-
nating, I pass on to speak of the
street preachers, for the missionary
proper does not preach so much as
visit and make personal appeals.
C The street preacher may not be
suited to a fastidious audience. He
may understand no rules of rhetoric,
but he talks from his experience, and uses language
easily comprehended by the audiences that listen to
him.
A discourse should always be adapted to the char-
acter of the hearers, and no one can listen to one
123
124 STAND STILL AND LISTEN.
of these street preachers, at the " Seven Dials," or
" Golden Lane," or " Ratcliffe Highway," and note
the earnest attention of the ragged audience, with-
out feeling that the speaker understands his audience,
and that they understand him. What if they do
mispronounce their words? What if they do drop
their " h's " when they are needed, and take them up
when not wanted? What if they do sometimes con-
struct a sentence contrary to the rules of syntax?
Their influence is none the less powerful on those
who listen to them. I think I never saw a more
striking effect produced on an audience than I wit-
nessed once in the streets. I stood with a detective
and two gentlemen at the junction of three streets,
listening to the din and confusion of that very bad
neighborhood. The detective had said, "Now, gentle-
men, you stand here by me : do not answer any question
that may he put to you, nor make any reply to any
remark, but stand by me. Take care of your valua-
bles, and listen." The raw night breeze brought to
our ears the wailing cry of neglected children, the
hoarse voice of blasphemy and cursing, the shuffling
of feet, music with no melody, laughter with no
mirth; when suddenly we heard a cry of "murder,
murder, police ! " and a half naked woman dashed
past us, her hair dishevelled, her face streaming with
blood. "Stand still," said the detective, "this is an
occurrence of every half hour. It is a fearful place
this. I have brought missionaries from Africa here,
and they tell me there is no heathenism in Africa
equal to this in Christian London."
Soon we heard a clear, distinct voice, all out of
place in the din, and the detective said, " Follow me,
and I will show you something worth looking at."
GLAD TIDINGS. 125
We went down the dim street, and soon came up to a
group, evidently composed of some of the worst class
of thieves and beggars, surrounding a plain-looking
man in a fustian jacket, who stood with his back
against a lamp-post; at his feet sat seven bleared,
bloated, gin-soaked women on the curbstone. While
we stood there he preached. Holding a pocket Tes-
tament in his hand, he said, " I've come down here to
bring yer good news. It may seem strange that I
should come to a place like this 'ere, to tell you good
news, but the book what I hold in my hand says it's
glad tidings of great joy: w^hich is to all people, and
that means us."
Then he went on to tell of one that was " King in
Heaven, who had all that heart could wish; the very
angels bowed down afore Him, and covered their
faces when they spoke to Him: and He looked down
on this 'ere world, and He heard the people a-crying,
and He seen 'em suffering, and He came down to help
'em ; but they wouldn't have nothing to do with Him.
They slapped Him in the face, they spit on Him, and
then hung Him up between two thieves." Then he
said, "Why, my friends, He might have sent for
twelve regiments of His Father's soldiers, and swept
His enemies off the face of the earth, but He didn't.
Oh no, He suffered for just such poor creatures as
you and me. ]STow I want to tell ye more about Him.
He never turned His back on a beggar; nobody ever
came to Him, that He told 'em to go away. There
ain't a thief that He wouldn't welcome, if he'd coom
to Him. There ain't one of these poor women with
her face blackened by the last night's fight, but His
heart is full of sympathy for just such as she is.
Why, my friends, they brought a woman to him, what
126 SAVED, AND SAVING OTHERS.
had been doing wrong, and they were going to stone
her to death according to their law. What did He
say to her? Why, He didn't say nothing till every-
body was gone, 'cos He didn't want to shame the poor
creature. And when they was all gone, He spoke to
her just as He would to His own mother; 'Woman,
where's them what's accusing of yer?' And she
said, ' There ain't none.' And He said, ' ~No more
don't I, my poor child. You go away, and don't do so
any more.' That's what He said to her." One
woman lifted up her hands, and said, " Oh, my God ! "
another swayed herself to and fro; another covered
her face with her apron; one man dashed his hand
across his eyes it was too much for him. That was
a sermon, powerful in its application to the class who
heard it. Many of these street preachers are mechan-
ics and working-men, who have been saved them-
selves, and now, in the true spirit of the Gospel, are
striving to save others.
Space will not permit me to enumerate all the be-
nevolent institutions that are relieving so much dis-
tress. I give you some statistics of one association,
published some time since. This is the " Reformatory
and Refuge Union." There were thirty-four institu-
tions connected with and controlled by it, such as
refuges for destitute boys and girls, for criminals, for
the neglected, for the homeless, for vagrants, for
young girls exposed to temptation and out of employ-
ment, for children of vicious or criminal parents, for
deserted children, for poor servants out of employ-
ment, for destitute working-men, for those discharged
from hospitals, for crippled and destitute girls, for
women discharged from prison, for degraded outcast
boys, for orphan street-boys, &c., &c. Then there
CHAKRItfGTON LING MURPHY. 129
are "Dr. Barnardo's East-End Juvenile Mission,"
" Home for Boys " at Stepney, and the " Girls' Home " at
Lford. The " Midnight Meeting Movement," " Friend-
less and Fallen Refuge," the " Boys' Home," Dept-
ford, " Poor Cabman's Society," " Dock-Laborers'
Mission," " Destitute Children's Dinners," " London
Medical Mission," " Cow Cross Mission," " Sick Chil-
dren's Dinners," " Sermon Lane Free Breakfasts,"
" Woman's Mission to Women," &c. In short, the
benevolent and Christian enterprises are amazing in
their extent.
Then there is Charrington's Mission. Mr. Char-
rington was the son of a brewer, and gave up a for-
tune for conscience' sake, and now supports a nightly
meeting, and is doing a great work. Then the Cen-
tral Hall meetings every evening, to provide for the
people rational amusement and instruction without
the appendage of drink, under the direction of Mr.
Ling. Then the meetings at the " Edinburgh Castle,"
once a very immoral music-hall, now, under the super-
intendence of Dr. Barnardo, a place for Christian in-
struction. Then the Lambeth Baths, where the Rev.
G. Murphy has the charge, and provides two thou-
sand people, principally of the working classes, valu-
able instruction, both secular and religious, every
evening from November till May, (the rent of the
Baths paid by Samuel Morley, Esq.) Then there are
scores of Temperance and other meetings constantly
held in various parts of London, all of which it is
impossible to describe, but intensely interesting to
visit.
I must not pass over Hoxton Hall. On March 29,
1878, Hoxton Music Hall which had been a nui-
sance to the neighborhood, and the ruin of many
130 BLUE RIBBON AKMY.
people, old and young, of both sexes having become
a music-hall of the lowest type, and lost its license
through the abominations practised there, was hired
by Mr. William !N"oble and a committee for three
months, as an experiment. The object was to convert
a place famous for its vileness into a place for instruc-
tions in righteousness, by holding continuous gospel
temperance meetings. The plan was so eminently
successful that it was deemed advisable to take the
hall for a further period of twelve months.
At the expiration of that time those engaged in the
good work must either purchase the hall or give up
possession, when a friend who had taken great inter-
est in the work came forward, and by his generosity
the freehold was purchased and vested in five trustees,
thus giving a permanent centre to the good work so
successfully inaugurated. The hall is now being im-
proved and repaired, soon to be opened and devoted
to the same great purpose. Under the auspices of
the " Blue Ribbon Army," (the name given to the
temperance society grown out of the work,) there
have been held 1,335 meetings, with an aggregate
attendance of 813,830 persons. This is an entirely
unsectarian movement, and has been the means of
rescuing thousands from the grasp of the destroyer,
Strong Drink, and many who were apparently lost
have been by the influence of these gospel temper-
ance efforts brought to the saving knowledge of the
truth.
I visited Hoxton Hall several times. Perhaps I
can give a better idea of the work, if I venture to
insert the following notice of my last visit there, from
the "London Times " of October 6, 1879:
HOXTON MUSIC HALL. 131
"On Saturday Mr. Gough, the temperance lecturer, addressed an
audience at the Hoxton Temperance Music Hall, Hoxton Street, com-
posed mainly of ' reformed men and women.' The hall was thronged
an hour before the time announced for the lecture. The audience was
composed, with very few exceptions, of working-men and women, and
when the Rev. J. Johnstone, in the prayer prefacing the address, begged
for the Divine guidance of those who had fled from the temptations of
drink, a fervid ' Amen ' was murmured from many lips. Sacred songs,
under the leadership of Mr. William Noble, the honorary director of
the gospel temperance movement, were sung very heartily by the
people, and Mr. Noble then asked all those who had signed the pledge in
that hall to stand up. Nearly the whole of the audience rose, and he
proceeded to say that amcng those were many reformed drunkards, as
well as reformed men and women who had been moderate drinkers.
He asked them to repeat their vow, and they, upstanding, solemnly said,
'I promise, by God's help, to abstain from all intoxicating liquors, and
to discountenance their use in others. The Lord help me to keep this
vow for Christ's sake. Amen.' Mr. Noble went on to say that Mr.
Gough had given upwards of thirty addresses to the working classes of
London without fee or reward, and in these the Hoxton people had
largely shared.
" Mr. Gough had told the committee of the Blue Ribbon Army, that
if they cared to take a large hall and make a charge for admission, his
address should be in aid of the fund to carry on that mission, and if they
had done so there would have been ten thousand people to hear him ; but
the committee had decided to have a meeting whereat the people who had
been benefited by Mr. Gough's labors could assemble to bid him farewell.
Mr. James Rae, late of the Royal Artillery, Mr. Morgan, and Mr. Robert
Rae, the secretary of the National Temperance League, then spoke, and
acknowledged the services of Mr. Gough to the Temperance cause.
" On behalf of the mission, Mr. John Smith, a French-polisher, pre-
sented Mr. Gough with an album containing portraits of those who had
firmly enlisted themselves in the Blue Ribbon Army. When Mr. Gough
stood forward to receive the gift, a poor woman pressed to the front and
presented Mrs. Gough with a bouquet of autumnal flowers. Mr. Gough,
who was received with repeated cheers, said he was unequal to the task
of making a speech that night, for he was quite exhausted. Touching,
however, upon the fact of finding devoted gentlemen acting as door-
keepers to that hall, he said he would rather 'be in that position himself
than have all the profits of the largest Burton ale brewery for fifty years.
He would rather have the lowest menial position in a work like that of
the Blue Ribbon Army, than hold the highest position in a work coupled
with any action which would do harm to a single soul. He proceeded to
address his audience upon the pledge which they had repeated, and after
remarking that it was thirty-seven years since he had signed a similar
pledge, he added that though he could not excuse drunkenness, yet it
132 WILLIAM NOBLE'S WORK.
must be allowed that the circumstances under which drunkards were
made were different. The appetite for drink, once obtained, never
wholly forsook men. It would come to them with maddening force, and
they must pray, not to be kept from drunkenness, but from the appetite
for drink. Mr. Gough resumed his seat amid loud cheers ; and Mr. T. H.
Ellis detailed the steps which were being taken to enlarge the hall, to
carry on the mission week-days and Sundays."
I give a short extract from the " Record " relating
to the same meeting:
" We may state incidentally that the hall has now been opened for
more than five hundred and eighty consecutive nights. The freehold of
the building has been purchased, and shortly the place will undergo
repairs, which are estimated to cost 1,000, of which money, the Hon.
Sec. stated, the friends now stand in need. Indeed, Hoxton Hall fell
into the hands of its present occupiers in a very dilapidated condition,
and with the odor of its former habitues strong about it. It was once a
so-called place of entertainment. Some years ago we remember to have
seen in a newspaper an account of how it was opened as a ' family
theatre,' and then it was stated that the proprietors intended to conduct
it in a manner that should secure the support of the well-to-do working
classes. Whether this intention was honestly adhered to or not we are
unable to say; but when we next heard of the 'Hoxtoa Theatre of
Varieties ' it was as a music-hall of the lowest character. However, in
spite of the drink, in spite of the gewgaw of the stage, and the obscenity
of the ' comic ' songs, and the profits which this combination is usually
thought to bring, the place fell into difficulties, and in a happy moment
it was secured for the gospel temperance work which Mr. Noble has
since carried on.
" It was to this place that Mr. Gough repaired on Saturday night, and
was received with a heartiness which showed that his intense sympathy
with the struggling classes is not misplaced and is not unappreciated.
Some of the proceedings were a little singular. For example, we do not
remember ever to have heard a lady open a meeting with prayer, and
yet this was the case here. Neither do we remember such hearty sing-
ing, or the impressive occurrence of a number of men rising in the body
of the meeting and repeating the text of Scripture uppermost in their
minds, perhaps from the very fact that they were those which had
brought the most comfort to their own souls. Some of these texts were
suggestive. 'Hitherto hath the Lord helped me,' said one; 'God be
merciful to me, a sinner,' said another; 'Do thyself no harm,' said a
third; ' He that cometh to me I will in nowise cast out,' said a fourth;
' Bless the Lord, O my soul,' said a fifth; ' Keep thy heart with all dili-
gence, for out of it are the issues of life,' said a sixth ; and the whole of
this exercise was closed with the Doxology."
FULL AND ACTIVE OPEKATIONS. 133
I would state that on Sundays three meetings are
held, one of them a Sunday-school; that women's
meetings and Bible-classes are also held; so that
there are many gatherings in the course of the week.
There are four great branches of *the Temperance
work to which I will barely allude before I close
this section of my book: the National Temperance
League, Samuel Bowly president, Robert Rae secre-
tary; the United Kingdom Alliance, Sir Wilfred Law-
son president, Thomas Barker secretary; the United
Kingdom Band of Hope Union, Samuel Morley, Esq.,
president; and the Scottish Temperance League for
Scotland, Hon. Wm. Collins (at present the Lord
Provost of Glasgow) president, and AVm. Johnston
secretary. All these are in full and active operation.
The United Kingdom Alliance, under the indefati-
gable labors of its secretary and executive board, are
constantly agitating the political question. The Band
of Hope Union principally among the children, and
the two Leagues for the promotion of total-abstinence
principles and prohibition of the liquor traffic. Then
the Good Templars are rendering efficient service.
The enterprises formed as auxiliaries to the great
work are very numerous.
There is the " Medical Temperance Society ; " and
nearly every town and religious denomination in the
kingdom has its efficient society. Then the " London
Temperance Hospital" has been in operation about
six years, and during that time about eight thousand
patients have passed under treatment, eight hundred
of whom have required continual nursing and clinical
treatment. Alcohol has been excluded from all these
eight thousand cases, with one exception, and in that
one case the result was unfavorable. So that while
9
134 THANK GOD AND TAKE COURAGE.
intemperance abounds, there are earnest, self-denying,
noble efforts to dry up this fearful ulcer, this moral
pollution, which, if unhealed, must constantly and
powerfully increase the corruption and hasten the
decay of the nation.
As we rejoice in these efforts, and in so much of
success as has crowned them, let us remember that
other eyes than ours have been watching these efforts
to save. Even the eye of Christian faith sees but
dimly the "joy among the angels over one sinner that
repenteth." But as we remember this, there come
these blessed companion-words of Holy Writ: "He
that converteth the sinner from the error of his way
shall save a soul from death and shall hide a multitude
of sins ; " and remembering also that " prevention is
better than cure," we will thank God and take courage,
believing that in His own good time He will crown
every good work with His approval ; and then, though
we may have sown in tears, we shall reap in joy, and
as we go home laden with sheaves we shall be wel-
comed as co-laborers with Him in preventing sin and
saving men.
CHAPTEE IX.
TRAGEDIES. THE SHADY SIDE OF LITE.
Power of Kindness The Scotch Minister and the "Brute " "I'll kick
you down stairs " " The most God-forsaken Wretch on Earth "
Perseverance rewarded "Clothed and in his Right Mind" The
States Prison Convict " The Cold, Glittering Eye " The Hard
Heart melted The Mother's Influence Scene in Gray's - Inn
Lane The Excited Crowd The Tattered Group, and Death
among them The "Bullet-headed Man" "'Ere's a Swell vants
to know vat's the Matter " Alone with the Mob An Easy Es-
cape Men beyond Sympathy The Toad in the Stone The
Murderer in the Portland Prison Celebrating his Release by a
Booze Human Parasites Tramps Soup-Kitchens Getting
Something for Nothing Able-bodied "Sponges on the Generous."
\n5^ HERE are but few instances in which
kindness has been fairly exercised
where it has not subdued the enmity
opposed to it. Its first effort will not
probably succeed, any more than one
shower of rain will reclaim the burn-
ing desert; but shed the dew of its
holy influence repeatedly on the revenge-
ful soul, and it may become beautiful with
the flowers of tenderness. Let any person put the
question to his soul whether under any circumstances
he can deliberately resist continued kindness. Good
is omnipotent in overcoming evil. I know there are
hard cases, men who will resist and resent every
approach; but, from my experience and observation,
135
136 "HE is A BRUTE.*
I believe there are few so hardened but persevering,
judicious kindness will touch some spot in the heart;
for they are human.
A minister of the gospel a parish minister in
Scotland told me that when he first went to Glas-
gow he determined that he would call on every indi-
vidual in his parish, every one. But there was one
man of whom he was afraid. His friends said, " Do
not call on him; he may do you a mischief; it will do
him no good ; he is a brute." " Well," the minister
said, " though I felt ashamed of my cowardice, yet
day after day and week after week passed, and, while
I visited every one else, I did not call on this man.
One morning, feeling exceedingly well, the sky was
bright, the sun shining, the trees lovely in their foli-
age, just the morning when a man feels the warm
blood healthily coursing through his veins, I said,
'I will see that man to-day; I am in just the right
trim for it." : He went, up three or four pairs of
stairs, knocking at the door. No answer. He
knocked again, no answer; yet again, no an-
swer. He opened the door and went in. As he saw
the poor creature crouching by the empty fireplace,
he became somewhat alarmed, and wished himself
away. The man's hair was tangled, his clothing in
rags, his person filthy, a four-weeks' beard on his
face, his cheeks sunken and cadaverous. As he
turned towards him, there was a wild glare in his
fierce eyes that fairly made his flesh creep. The first
words the poor wretch uttered were :
" "Who are you? "
" I am the minister."
" Minister! What do you want? "
" I have called to see you."
"I'M NOT MUCH TO SEE." 137
The man rose upon his feet. "And then," said the
minister, " I expected a struggle, and began to think
where I should take him, for I was determined not to
give him up." The man, coming closer, stretched
out his hand and said:
" You've come to see me, have you? Then see me I
Do you like the looks of me? I'm not much to see,
am I? Come to see me! "
Then he came a step or two nearer, and the hot
breath steamed into the minister's face as he said,
" ^sfow I'll kick you down-stairs."
" Stop, stop ! Don't kick me down the stairs now,
for I have a call to make above, and if you kick me
down now, I shall be obliged to come all the way up
again, don't you see? !N"ow, if it will be any gratifi-
cation to you to kick the minister down-stairs, who
has come to you out of pure kindness and good-will,
let me go and make my visit, and then I will place
myself at your disposal. That's fair ! "
" Well, you are a rum one ! " and he shuffled back
to his seat.
The minister made his call, and upon returning,
opened the door and said:
" Now, my man, here I am. I told you I would
call again. If it will be any gratification to you to
kick me down-stairs, I am at your disposal."
" Did you come to see me? "
"Yes, I did."
" Sit down ; " and he began to talk with him, not as
if he were a brute, but as a man and a brother. Soon
the poor creature cried out, while the tears ran down
his face, " Oh, sir, I am the most God-forsaken wretch
on earth ! " Then he told of a wife and children, of
sorrow, sin, degradation, and despair. The minister
138 A VlfRT HARD CASE.
poured the oil of sympathy into his broken heart.
Many other interviews followed; and now, restored
to wife, children, and society, he has been for some
years a constant attendant on the ministrations of the
man who by persevering kindness had touched the
fountain of feeling in the heart so long hard. It pays
to persevere.
In my own experience, I have found among those
who seemed the most reckless and hardened some
spot in the heart that was vulnerable, some chord
that can be touched. Once while speaking to the
convicts in one of the State prisons, a man sat before
me with a face almost demoniac in its expression: it
was a face that repelled and yet attracted me ; it was
what some one has called the " attraction of repul-
sion." As he fixed his eye on me, cold and steely,
with the cynical curl of the lips and a sneer, he almost
fascinated me, and I thought of Coleridge's lines in
the "Ancient Mariner,"
" He held him with his glittering eye."
My wonder was, Who can he be? Evidently a man
of large brain, of more than average intelligence;
and while he fascinated, he embarrassed me. The
thoughts that flashed through my mind while I was
speaking were, "I cannot move this man; my words
fall on him like soft snow on a rock. I wish he
would not look on me." I became almost confused,
and saw a smile pass over his face, a half-con-
temptuous smile, as if he were conscious of the
power he possessed. Seemingly, by concentrating all
his powers of will, he had almost gained control of
me. I turned from him with an effort, and said,
" There may be some before me who think they are
POWER OF KIND WORDS. 139
hardened, are past feeling; God only knows whether
they are or not; but often we cultivate that hardness,
when the world turns against us. There may be
some here who had a good mother; and even here,
when alone in your cell, in the silence of the night,
you remember that mother, and the little prayer
she taught you as you knelt at her side, and her
gentle, loving hand rested on your head. You almost
hear the words whispered in your ear; and no human
eye seeing you, the tears come, and you are melted
into tenderness ; but in the morning you harden your-
self again into recklessness." I said something like
this, steadily keeping my face turned from the man,
when I was interrupted by so bitter a cry, "Oh, my
God ! " that I turned, and the man, who had risen
to utter the exclamation, had sunk in his seat and was
audibly sobbing. I was told by one of the officers of
the prison that he was one of the hardest cases, the
most repelling, the most oblivious to kindness of any
man that had ever come under his supervision. The
remembrance of a mother whose heart he may have
broken melted the strong man, and he became as a
little child.
Sometimes, even among those whom society throws
out as things unworthy of love or pity, a kind word
may produce a wonderful effect: among those who
prey on society, thieves or worse, an expression of
sympathy, or an act of kindness, will touch the one
vulnerable spot in their hearts, and the social tiger
becomes human.
On one occasion, some years ago, I was strolling on
a tour of observation up Holborn Hill, this was be-
fore the splendid Holborn viaduct was engineered,
and I turned into Gray's Inn Lane. On the opposite
140 A SINISTER-LOOKING ANIMAL.
side of the street, around the entrance to a court, in
a very bad locality, I saw a group of tatterdemalions,
men, women, and children, some fluttering in rags,
the very refuse of the slums, evidently in a state of
great excitement; something out of the common
order had occurred.
As I was curious to know, for I often learn some
lessons from the street folk, and get some ideas of
strange phases of human nature in a crowd, I crossed
over. Expecting to hear some foul language, some-
what in character with the appearance of the crowd I
was approaching, I soon heard expressions like these :
"Ah, God bless me, deary, deary me, poor thing;
well, well, ah well, poor thing." These were words
of sympathy from human hearts for human sorrow.
A man had fallen from a scaffold in a neighboring
street, and was being brought home dead; and all
this commotion was sympathy for the newly-made
widow and her children. On the outskirts stood a
very bad-looking man, with the closely cropped bullet-
head. The bull-neck, the tiger-jaw, the small light-
blue eye, a sinister-looking animal, one you would not
care to meet alone in a dark street at night. He had
a cat-skin cap, a belcher handkerchief tied loosely
round his neck, and he evidently belonged to what
are termed the criminal classes. I said to him:
"What's the matter here, sir?"
He turned his eye full on me for a moment, and
then said to the crowd:
" Stand out of the vay, vill ye ! 'ere's a swell vants
to know vat's the matter."
I was not much of a swell, but I did want to know
what the matter was.
A woman told me the facts of the case, and point-
A DANGEROUS CROWD. 143
ing to a miserably-looking faded creature, with three
or four ragged children clinging to her skirts, said:
" That's the woman that's lost her husband."
I was startled by this time to find that the crowd
had closed in upon me, and I must confess I was
frightened ; my knees grew weak, and I felt a dryness
of my lips and throat from apprehension. Quickly it
flashed through my mind quicker than I can write
it, " Here I am in the midst of a crowd of the worst
characters in London. I am shut out from all help;
no policeman near should they see fit to assault me.
I have a gold watch in my pocket, gold and silver
in my purse. Some of these men and boys are thieves
by profession; I do not like it. They might strike
ine a blow, drag me down this court, and no one
would be the wiser. I should be missing," &c., &c.
All this was very foolish, perhaps. The bullet-headed
man was close to me, and I did not like that; my
sensations were not agreeable.
Summoning up courage, I turned to this man, and
pointing to the woman, I said:
"Is this woman very poor, sir?"
He replied, savagely:
"Vat do you mean by that, hey? Poor? God
Almighty help the woman! Look at her, vill ye?"
I did look: all the womanhood apparently crushed
out of her. So I boldly pulled out my purse, as I said :
" Well, she looks as if she needed help ; poor thing,
I am willing to help her. I'll give her a half sov-
ereign, if it will do her any good. Shall I give it
to you, sir, or to some of these women, or shall I
give it to the poor woman herself ? "
" God bless you, sir," said one of the women ; " give
it to 'er, she needs it bad."
144 CALLOUS AND DEGRADED.
" Thank you, sir," said another.
One with a blackened eye said, holding up a child:
" Here's one of the children, sir." I turned to go
away. A passage was opened for me; and though
I am convinced there were men there who would
have garrotted me for a shilling, or brained me with
a life-preserver for half a crown, yet every man,
as I passed out of the crowd, touched his rag of a
cap, and said, " Thank ye, sir ; " and even my friend
with the belcher, and the cat-skin cap fitting close to
his cropped head, looked more like a human being
than an animal.
Yet I am compelled to the conviction, that there
are men and women thoroughly hardened we
might almost say, heartless. No kindness can move
them, no sympathy touch them; who glory in their
hardness, and seem proud that they are " past feel-
ing." The author of the " Mock Doctor " says : " Some
men have hearts so thoroughly bad as to remind us of
the phenomena often mentioned in Natural History,
namely, a mass of solid stone, only to be opened by
force, and when divided, you discover a toad in the
centre, lively, and with the reputation of being ven-
omous." There are those that seem to become stolid,
obtuse, or case-hardened by a continual course of
recklessness, when the moral sense becomes stultified.
I give a fact as an illustration. A man in the Port-
land prison, England, was convicted of manslaughter
(it should have been murder), and sentenced for five
years. In a public-house brawl he had killed a man.
He said he had no animosity against the man, and
that if he had been sober he would never have hurt him;
and yet this man, who knew that drink had made him a
murderer, was so callous and degraded, that as his
BEGGAKS AND TRAMPS. 145
term of imprisonment drew to a close, he boasted that
the gratification he promised himself after his release,
was a drunken booze at the very tavern which had
been the scene of the murder. Let us hope such
cases are very rare. Yet we know there are men,
and women too, who trade on the benevolence and
generosity of the soft-hearted, in whose breasts there
is no response to the kind word; in whom all ap-
preciation of kindness is dead. Such become the
parasites of the body politic in civilized communities ;
and every bit of benevolent effort towards them only
hardens them, till they sink into the mean begging
letter-writers, or the not less mean sponges on the
generous.
Of this class are many of the tramps that have
been like an incubus on the industrious and prudent.
These persons are ever to be found at the soup-
kitchens, free breakfasts, mingling with the deserving
poor, and often obtaining the lion's share of the
charity, able-bodied men who will not work, whose
sole business it is to get something for nothing; so
that the system, sustained by the benevolent as a
charity, tends to pauperize, rather than to stimulate to
effort and industry.
I have more than once offered able-bodied men
work, and they have given some frivolous excuse. I
have induced some to work, and with the first result
of honest labor in money, they have, on some pretext,
left for the town, only to indulge in a heavy drunk.
A year or two since, at a free breakfast given to
four or five hundred of these men out of employment,
Sir Alderman Garden offered to give work at three
shillings per day to any really desirous of earning a
living. A number of hands were held up, and some
146 REFUSAL TO WORK.
sixty or seventy finally resolved to accept the ofler.
Not one of them continued at work for a year, and
most of them gave out long before the expiration of
that time. The soup-kitchen, the casual ward, the
chances of what they can pick up in the streets, are
preferred by such men to honest labor.
A friend of mine met one of these loafing gentry
begging.
" What do you want? "
" A job, if you please."
" Well, what will you come and work in my garden
for?"
" Half a crown a day."
" Well, you come to-morrow, and I will give you
three shillings."
The man went away apparently delighted at the
thought of earning three shillings a day; but he
never came near the place again. One of the surest
ways to get rid of such leeches is to set them to
work. Real helpless deserving poverty often hides its
rags, and shudders at publicity; but the idle "ne'er
do well," without a blush go straight to the poor-box
or the soup-kitchen.
CHAPTER X.
AMONG THE POOR. THE TRAFFIC IN DRINK.
SOCIETY'S CURSE.
Sunday-Morning Breakfasts for Waifs Homeless Multitudes A
Strange Audience Economizing for a Drink The Man who
loved Beer His heroic Self-Defence A Pint every Two Hours
" Breakfast for Nothing " Thirty Years lost Drink, the Cause
and Curse of Poverty Soup-Kitchen in Glasgow Free Sunday-
Morning Breakfasts in Edinburgh Seventeen Hundred Victims of
Drink " We get Hot Victuals at Home " " Ducks and Green
Peas " " Good Times " turned to " Hard Times " Extravagance
of the Poor Satire of "Punch" The Irish Famine Distilleries
at Work "Irish Distress, Irish Drinking" Burton-on-Trent .
Bass's Beer-Mills Bass's Annual Beer-Profits 450,000 The Drink
Bill London Paper upon Mr. Bass, M.P.
T has been the custom for years to pro-
vide a breakfast of bread and cocoa on
Sunday mornings at the Field Lane In-
stitution in London for the waifs who,
sleeping in the casual wards of the
workhouse, are litera-lly without house
or home; and the large room, capable of
seating seven or eight hundred persons,
is generally crowded. They are admitted
about ten o'clock. A simple religious exercise lasting
an hour is closed soon after twelve. Then a meal is
served, sufficiently substantial to appease the pangs
of hunger, but not appetizing enough to tempt those
who are not absolutely in need of it.
147
148 FIELD LANE INSTITUTION.
The Field Lane institution is truly a Christian
work for the benefit of the poor, and has been exten-
sively useful in educating thousands of children who
would probably have grown up in ignorance, and
perhaps crime. It has provided shelter and food for
multitudes of homeless wanderers who seemed " ready
to perish;" while boys in large numbers have been
apprenticed to trades, and hundreds of girls have
received suitable training for domestic service. Many
illustrations can be given by the officers of the insti-
tution of the great good their agencies have been the
means of accomplishing.
One Sunday morning I went by invitation to speak
to the poor creatures who came in for the free break-
fast. A lady who was present that morning wrote a
letter in the evening to a friend, in which she says :
"All day long I have seen the faces of that audience
before me, the hopeless, the careless, the weak in
purpose, the improvident, those just plunged in the
hungry gulf, some with the inherited stains, and all
together such a mass ! " It was a painful sight, and
when I rose to address them, I felt as I always do
before such an audience a strange embarrassment.
I felt for them a deep sympathy, and yet there were
some to whom the scanty charity was not " a means
of grace," who were the more hardened by the be-
nevolence, and who simply endured the singing, pray-
ing, and speaking for an hour that they might get the
cocoa and bread without spending the money they
needed for the drink. At the close of my short
speech a lady said to me, " There's a man who wishes
to speak to you." I went to the corner of the room
where he was seated, and I noticed that three or four
men who sat near him had a strange look of expec-
UNDESERVING POOR. 149
tancy, and the man had an assured look of confidence,
such a look as one might have on the eve of a vic-
tory: he had evidently sent for me to chaff me, and
the other men were confident that their mate would
let the " temperance bloke " down a few pegs.
The man began in quite an impudent style, " Did I
understand you to say that you would take away the
poor man's beer? " and without waiting for any reply,
he continued, " Do you suppose I am going to give
up my beer? No, sir, no! I couldn't think of such
a thing, oh no, sir, couldn't possibly think of such
a thing! ha, ha! No, sir! Give up my beer?" and
with that voluble chaff tickling his mates, who wore a
broad grin on their faces. " Let me see : I shall have
work next week, and then I'll have a pint of beer
every two hours, a pint in all every two hours, a
half-pint every hour all next week ! Would you take
that away from me? Only think, a pint every two
hours ! I can get a pint for twopence : a half-pint is
three halfpence; so I get more for the money by
taking a pint every two hours ; " and so he went oil
awhile.
I stood mute till he rested ; then I said, " Do not
suppose, my man, that I shall interfere with your
beer-drinking; it is nothing to me, personally, what
or how much you drink.' Drink a quart every hour,
if you can get it; but don't you think it is shockingly
mean, and miserably contemptible, to brag about how
much you will drink next week, and sneak in here to
get a breakfast for nothing, to boast of a pint every
two hours for twopence a pint, while you hold in your
hands the bread and cocoa provided by charity for the
hungr}^ and destitute? Had you not better save one
or two of the twopences to buy a breakfast for your-
150 PAUPERISM.
self next Sunday morning, than to sit with the de-
serving, honest recipient of this charity?"
The man's face was white, and as I turned to go
away, one of the men said, " Well, Jem, you got it
hot this time ! "
The great difficulty in dispensing these charities is
to keep out those that are undeserving, and who make
capital of, and trade on, the benevolence of these in-
stitutions. At the close of the service, and after
breakfast, a man wished to sign the pledge. As he
took the pen, he said, " I wish I had done this Fri-
day," as he had spent twelve shillings in drink on
Saturday night, and had nothing left to pay for bed
or breakfast. Another man came up and said he had
heard me thirty years ago in New York, and he
wished from the bottom of his heart he had taken the
advice then. In all, thirty-nine names were regis-
tered on the pledge. This reveals the cause of the
terrible degradation and suffering to be seen in our
great cities, and the constant call for help.
Sir Wilfred Lawson said in Exeter Hall last year,
" Pauperism, that great sore of the body politic !
why, you all know that drink is almost the only cause.
I do not wish to overstate the fact of pauperism in
this country." The same may be said with truth in
America. A late editor in Philadelphia said, " Close
all the grog-shops in the United States, and all the
poverty could be relieved by the present existing pri-
vate charities, and in this republic there need not be an
almshouse." In the winter of 1878-79 an immense
soup-kitchen was established in Glasgow; the Lord
Provost took charge of it. Thousands and thousands
of people went through his hands, he giving them
relief. He took the trouble of inquiring into the
IMPROVIDENCE. 151
cases individually, and he found that there was not
one teetotaller who came to ask for soup.
John Butters, Esq., in a letter to the Lord Bishop
of Peterborough, says that " in Edinburgh there is
an average attendance of twelve hundred every Sun-
day morning at the free breakfast, who are, with the
exception of a mere fraction, victims of drink. On
New Year's Eve there were assembled in the Drill-
hall of Edinburgh seventeen hundred and fifty of
these people, old and young: with fewer than fifty
exceptions, they were all drunkards, or the suffering
offspring of drunkards."
A little fellow was asked by a lady, " Why do you
not come for cold victuals anymore?" and replied,
" Father's signed the pledge, and we get hot victuals
at home."
I need not multiply evidence: the people know
that drunkenness and consequent improvidence is the
cause of seven eighths of the poverty here and in
Great Britain. I have it on good authority that
during the "good times," as they were termed in
England, three or four years ago, men who earned
from five to six pounds per week had nothing by
Thursday or Friday. One man bought a whole suit
of expensive sealskin, and was found in the gutter
drunk, and the sealskin soaked with the refuse of the
streets.
Men who were earning large wages five, six, or
seven pounds a week were, many of them, the first
to apply for charity when the hard times came. They
had lived extravagantly: as a lady said to me, they
would have ducks and green peas before their em-
ployers thought they could afford them; they would
drink champagne, and spend in treating 011 their pay-
10
152 HOW TO COOK A PINEAPPLE.
night two or three pounds. Some would keep dogs
for the purpose of fighting, and many, even when
receiving charity, retained the dog, and fed that while
the children were suffering. The improvidence of a
certain class of workingmen is frightfully reckless.
That satire in "Punch" had truth in it, in which a
lady complains to the greengrocer that pineapples are
too expensive for her. " Why, seven shillings for a
pineapple? I must wait till they are cheaper." A
miner came by in his rough clothes, and cried, " Give
it to me ; I'll give ye ten shillings for it, if ye'll tell
me how to cook him."
There is, and has been for some time, great distress
among the unemployed in England; and in Ireland it
seems to have culminated in a famine, and calls are
made for help, to which the people of this country
have grandly responded. God forbid that I should
say one word to check the flow of charity, or to
depreciate the suffering that calls it forth; but will
there be one gallon less whisky distilled for the scar-
city of food? Will one fire of a distillery or brew-
ery be extinguished? Not all the tears of starving
thousands can stop that business. In the last fam-
ine, of 1848, it was stated that many million quar-
ters of grain were destroyed in Ireland for whisky.
When children were found dead with the sea-weed
they had been sucking for nourishment between their
teeth ; when, as I was told in Brandon by the rector,
they dreaded to go out at night for fear of stumbling
over a dead body ; when he fed at his gate three hundred
of the poor creatures every day, and was compelled to
sprinkle the stones on which they sat with chloride of
lime, for fear of infection from the famine fever which
was raging ; at that very time the smoke of the dis-
IRISH DISTRESS. 153
tilleries was darkening the air and intensifying the
horror of the famine.
A nobleman has made some sensible suggestions
that universal abstinence from whisky is a remedy for
the Irish distress. Lord Longford says, " If all
classes or individuals, without waiting for others,
would spend on relieving the wants of their poorer
neighbors, to their own credit, what they now spend
on whisky, to their own destruction, it would be less
necessary to make frantic appeals to the government,
to the landlords, or to private charity. Temperance
is its own government, its own landlords, its own
Board of Works."
The "Irish Ecclesiastical Gazette" says: "Every
one who lives in Ireland knows pretty well that the
causes of its chronic distress really are (1) over-
population, (2) overdrinking. In every town from
which the cry of distress comes the public houses and
their owners prosper." The present trouble arises, as
we all know, from the failure of the crops for the past
five years; yet the drinking habits of so many in-
tensifies the evil. But that should not hinder our
charities. I would feed a hungry man or woman,,
even though I knew their poverty was directly caused
by drink. I only speak of the drink as one of the
causes, and as an aggravation of the suffering we
deplore and are ready to relieve. The " Gazette "
concludes a long article with these words : " Those
who discourage emigration, temperance, and honest
industry, and foster in the Irish people the insane
earth-hunger, the waste, the improvidence, the love
of political excitement, rather than patient, plodding
industry, the sin, the misery, the nation's degrada-
tion, lie at their doors. They are the cause of the
154 THE BURTON BKEWEKIES.
Irish distress." I merely quote these words for what
they are worth.
I have before me an appeal to the Irish people,
dated "Cork, Feb. 19, 1880," entitled, "Irish Dis-
tress, Irish Drinking." After alluding to the dark
cloud of poverty hanging over so many homes, the
unfavorable harvest, the great loss in the entire failure
of so much of the expected crop, it states that " drink
is pauperizing the people to a far greater extent than
the failure of the crops," and then asks the question,
" Why talk of poverty, when 5,000 every week are
spent in Cork alone in drink? It's all nonsense."
These are not my words, but the words of a com-
mittee in Cork who have issued this appeal. In Eng-
land there is great distress, but we do not hear so
much of it: whether the English have greater powers
of endurance, I know not. But spite of distress, the
business of brewing and manufacturing strong drink
is active and lucrative.
Burton-on-Trent is almost wholly given up to the
manufacture of beer. The place is nothing more
than a huge brewery, or nest of breweries. Beside
the lesser ones, here are the beer-factories of Alsopp,
Ind & Coope, "Worthington, Nunnely, Robinson, rep-
resenting millions of barrels of beer. Then there is
Bass his extensive beer-mills covering a hundred
acres of land, and using two or three hundred quar-
ters of malt every day, requiring the barley grown on
sixty thousand acres of good English land, besides
the hops grown on two thousand acres yearly rolls
into the groggeries of London and other great towns
in England something like a million barrels of beer.
He owns five miles of private railway in Burton, and
pays 2,000 every week in wages. He is a member
COST OF DRINK. 155
of Parliament, and the profits of the firm in 1878
were 450,000.
In 1878, the people spent 160,000,000 for drink,
half of which came out of the pockets of the poor.
In one city, the amount sold across the counters of
the public houses was 20,000 per week; while at
that very time 10,000 were raised to care for the
poverty-stricken. Paupers who received out-door
relief of half a crown per week, in several instances
have been known to spend it all in one evening, and
live by begging till the next day for their relief came
round.
I quote from a London paper:
" Of all the sickening announcements we ever read, the announce-
ment that Mr. Bass, M.P., will find employment for men who have lost
their work through bad trade is the most revolting. Mr. Bass is the
most noted brewer, and that fact explains our revulsion. Trade is bad,
but drink must be made ; commerce is depressed, but beer is still de-
manded ; profits have disappeared, but fuddling is well to the front !
This is the horrible revelation which is made by Mi*. Bass. It discour-
ages us. It shows that, so far as our social economy is concerned, the
last enemy that shall be destroyed is drink. The festive Chancellor of
the Exchequer has been dining with the licensed victuallers at Exeter,
and talking vinous nonsense to the beery horde. lie has abused their
traffic and patronized it in the same breath. He has told the victuallers
how much better they are than their trade, and then that their trade must
be watched and chained, and have a cordon of restrictions around its
whole scope. Instead of damning it with the ardor of a patriot, he pets
it and humors it like a receiver of taxes. He talks against revolutionary
measures, and warns the country inferentially against the Permissive
Bill, forgetting that a revolution is better than destruction, and that to
be without drink is better than to be without character. The Licensed
Victuallers' Benevolent Association ! What cruel irony ! What pitiless
and bitter mockery to many hearts 1 "
CHAPTEK XI.
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY. HOMELESS HOMES.
DARKNESS AND LIGHT.
Homes of the London Poor Cellar Dwellings Description of a
Court in Gray's-Inn Lane King Cholera Horrible Filth
" Work in the Five Dials " Dark Pictures of Life Tour of In-
spection with Hon. Maude Stanley Visiting Low Localities My
Audience A Motley Crowd Coffee-Palace opened by Dean Stan-
leyThe Bright Side The Honest Girl in the Thieves' Court
The Newspaper- Vender and the Pocket-Book "A Real Case"
Artful Dodges The Workman's Independence " Principled agin
taking Money " Trust and Patience of the Poor Life among the
Lowly The Crippled Saint Blue Skies reflected from Muddy
Pools The Story of Thomas Wright A Devoted Son Exam-
ples of Nobility in Humble Life Demands for Human Sympathy.
E are often told that the excuse for
drinking among the poor is their
wretched homes, the want of air
and ventilation., I grant it is almost
an impossibility to give more than
a faint idea of the homes of the
* London poor. Hundreds of people
live under the surface of tke streets,
in rooms to which apertures not nine
inches above the footpath, and not more than six or
seven inches from the front of the building, afford the
only means of light and ventilation. In addition to
the want of light and air, these places are in most
instances intolerably damp, and the back kitchen is
156
TENANT-HOUSES. 157
generally used by the numerous tenants of the house
for washing. In eight cases out of ten, the badly-
formed drains allow gases to escape and quietly poison
the inmates.
Some time ago, a court in Gray's Inn Lane was
cleaned up and made meet for human habitation by
Lord Shaftesbury's excellent society for improving
the condition of the working classes. Take the fol-
lowing literal description of what it was before it was
reformed. The shutters and doors were broken ;
from most of the windows projected a well-known
drying apparatus for the day's wash; the pavement
was irregular, retaining decomposing matter to con-
taminate the air; while the basement story of all the
houses was filled with fetid refuse, of which it had
been the receptacle for years. In some of the houses
it seemed scarcely possible that human beings could
live: the floors were in holes, the stairs broken down,
the plastering had fallen; nevertheless they were
densely populated, and as much rent paid for the
rooms as ought to have obtained for the tenants'
decent accommodations. In one, the roof had fallen
in; it was driven in by a tipsy woman one night, who
had sought to escape over the tiles from her husband.
The foul effluvia in this court actually rendered it im-
possible for the workmen to proceed for some time
after the surface had been broken up, and many of
them were taken ill. It was in this court, which still
bears his name, that Tyndal, " the true servant and
martyr of God," as Fox called him, translated the
Bible; there, where Stowe wrote:
" And men and maids went Maying in the glad spring time."
In the London hospitals, from ten hundred to eleven
158 WORK IN FIVE DIALS.
hundred cubic feet of space are allowed to each person.
In some of the houses of the poor, the cubic space
afforded is less than a hundred and fifty feet per head.
In the east of London, houses are several feet below
the level of the Thames. Even the rich and refined
pay a terrible penalty for the neglect of proper sani-
tary regulations. They speak correctly who make
King Cholera sing:
" What is my court? These cellars piled
With filth of many a year ;
These rooms with rotting damps defiled,
These alleys where the sun ne'er smiled,
Darkling and drear.
These streets along the river's bank,
Below the rise of tide ;
These hovels set in stifling rank,
Sapped by the earth, damp, green, and dank ;
These cesspools wide ;
These yards where heaps of dust and bone
Breathe poison all around;
These styes where swinish tenants grown
Half human with their masters, own
A common ground."
The Hon. Maude Stanley published a book entitled
" Work in the Five Dials," in which she says :
" Such is the scarcity of rooms, that once the workingman has got
one, he gladly keeps it ; and I have known women to be months and
sometimes years trying to get into better quarters. In a house I knew
well, for years the drinking water was drawn from an old beer-barrel
without a lid, which stood between an unglazed window and an open
door in the basement, and under a butcher's shop. Through the window,
which was on a level with the street, every breath of wind would blow
in the refuse, the germs of animal disease and animal life, so that in
summer the water was alive with animalculse visible to the naked eye.
Can we wonder that the father should go to the public-house, preferring
beer there to foul water at home.
" In another case, the death of a most excellent woman was caused
by the condition of the* water and the drains. Her husband had been in
a wholesale business in the city, and she had lived in a good house of her
own. Her husband lost everything by failure in the city, and died. Her
PRIVATIONS OF THE POOR. 159
sons were taken care of by friends, and her daughter served in a baker's
shop. The mother had taken a poor, little place, trying to earn a scanty
living by selling a few groceries. Last summer she felt languid and ill
from the bad odor outside the house, which came in through the open
door. In vain she applied to the landlord. Nothing was done. At last
she wrote to the Sanitary Inspector. The tank, which was under an oil
and tallow chandler's shop, was emptied. At the bottom was found two
inches of mud, the decomposing bodies of fourteen rats, a bar of soap,
candles, and many dead beetles ; and from this tank the poor woman had
to get all the water she used. Soon the poor woman was taken to the
hospital, where she died. Might not such hardships make them more
drunken and immoral? "
I am well aware that to the poor denizens of these
miserable tenements, the public-house, warm, well-
lighted, and cosy, offers a strong temptation; and I
have the deepest sympathy with these poor unfortu-
nates, whether brought to such straits by their own
act or their parents' neglect. Still the fact stares us
in the face, that you may search through London in
its worst localities, street after street, court after
court, alley after alley, and you will find but an almost
infinitesimal portion of the inhabitants of these stifling
dens are total abstainers from drink. Almost the first
idea that takes hold of a man or woman when deter-
mined to be free from the drink, is to get out of the
slums ; the tendency at once in most cases is to clean-
liness, and the struggle commences to get clear of
their surroundings. I have seen, and so have all who
have visited these localities, the poor attempts at com-
fort and personal cleanliness, with some little attempts
at ornament, perhaps a poor flower in the window, or
a cheap picture on the wall. I have spent many hours
in company with city missionaries in visiting low
localities.
The Hon. Maude Stanley sent me her book called
" Work in the Five Dials," which led to an interview
160 A MOTLEY ASSEMBLAGE.
with her, and under her guidance I made a tour of
observation in Princes Row, Grafton Street, Porter
Street, and several alleys and courts in the vicinity of
Five and Seven t)ials. She has done, and is doing, a
noble work in efforts to ameliorate the condition of
the people. I spoke to an audience of four hundred,
gathered together from the different streets in the
neighborhood; and after the address, a temperance
society was formed. It was a motley crowd, an au-
dience of great contrasts : there was the Right Honor-
able and the costermonger, the Countess and the
unfortunate, the nobleman and the beggar, the re-
fined and the degraded, the gentleman and the thief,
the rich and the poor meeting together, and the Lord
the maker of them all.
The temperance society is flourishing, and a few
weeks ago I received a letter from Miss Stanley giving
very gratifying accounts of the success, and the open-
ing of a coffee-palace, called the Stanley Arms, by
Dean Stanley and other gentlemen interested in the
work. Wherever this work has been carried on, an
evident improvement has been manifest in the habits
of these people; many have become Christians, and
the drink maniacs have been found clothed and in
their right mind, sitting at the feet of Jesus. Not-
withstanding the fact admitted by all total abstainers
or otherwise that drunkenness is the chief cause of
the misery of the poor, there are many too many,
for the credit of the Christian church of God's own
saints hiding their sufferings and their privation, and
bearing and enduring enough to appall the stoutest
heart.
Why should we be ever hearing of one side? and
that the worst of the poor ones who perforce are com-
THE BRIGHTER SIDE. 161
pelled to dwell in the horrible surroundings of some
of the slums, just take the following well- authenti-
cated fact.
One day, a little girl, living with her father in a
court of ill-repute, picked up a pocketbook containing
bank-notes of the value of forty-five pounds. The
other contents of the packet included the address-
card of the owner; and consequently a day or two
after, a very poor-looking old man called at the gen-
tleman's office, left his address, and requested Mr.
to pay him a visit, if he had lost anything.
On receipt of this welcome news, the owner of the
property hastened to the court designated a place
which was seemingly a rendezvous of thieves and
loose women. The intruder found himself interro-
gated by an apparent descendant of " Bill Sikes," who
in peremptory tones desired to know his business;
but mentioning the name of the man wanted, he soon
appeared on the scene, and the two made their way
into one of the dens of an upper story, where a brief,
whispered conversation ensued.
" Are you the gentleman I called on this morning?"
"Yes."
" Have you lost anything? "
" Yes ; I have lost my pocketbook."
"What was in it?"
" Forty-five pounds."
" Oh, that's all right," the man went on. " "Well,
I've got it up-stairs, under my bed. You go and walk
up Holborn, and I'll follow you. Don't say nothing
about it to nobody; they're all thieves. Be off as
quick as you can, and don't look as if you thought I
should follow you, but walk right away."
Obeying these injunctions to the letter, the gentle-
162 HONESTY IN THE SLUMS.
man was soon overtaken by the old man, who handed
him his property from a bundle of rags. " There,
there it is," he said. " My little girl found it, and
brought it to me; and as I found your card in it, I
came straight off to you about it. You'll find the
money all right, and all the rest of the things just as
she picked it up. But don't say nothing about it;
'cos if them fellows knowed I'd done this, they'd make
the place too 'ot to 'old me. They are all thieves, and
I was afraid that they might smell a rat if you stopped
there."
When he received five pounds' reward, and five
shillings for his daughter, the old man was, if possi-
ble, as much dazzled at the liberality of " Yerax," as
the latter was surprised at so uncommon an example
of honesty. As regards the finder of the book, no
words can express her consternation at the sudden
turning up of so grand a personage as the city mer-
chant. She sobbed as though her heart would break,
supposing she was about to be imprisoned for the
crime of finding so much treasure. The father even
offered an explanation byway of apology: "She so
often hears of her companions being quodded, that
she thought it had come to her turn." This is a
highly gratifying, but by no means solitary example
of heroic honesty among the very poor.
On another occasion, three hundred and fifty pounds
were picked up by a newspaper seller, and were faith-
fully restored to the owner.
Passing down Bishopsgate Street, one Saturday
evening, I saw a group collected around a poor
woman, who lay on a door-step, apparently very ill.
I asked wliat the matter was, as the poor creature
was groaning. How sad that drunkenness being so
TRUE INDEPENDENCE. 163
common, my first thought should be, " She's drunk."
As no one answered my question, I stooped over her
to ascertain, but I detected no smell of drink; and
after paying for a cab to convey her home, I turned
to go away, when a man apparently of the poorest
said, "That's a real case, sir; some is sham. Ah, I
know a good deal about it, sir." I said, " What do
you mean by sham?" "Yell, sir, I s'pose you know
there's a wariety of dodges to get a little. Veil, poor
things, I don't blame 'em ; they 'as 'ard lines vot
with 'ard times and the drink, and von thing and
another, ve all of us 'as 'ard times. Now, sir, you'd
'ardly think that I 'aven't put a drop of liquor to my
lips for twelve years, and yet I'm werry often 'ungry;
it's so 'ard to get work." I said, "I'll give you a
couple of shillings to help you on." He said, "No,
sir, I thank you, sir; I don't need it to-night. I had
a job of work this week, and I'm going to get my
money, eight shillings, and I expect another job next
Thursday, and I'll get on werry well till then. I
shouldn't find it so 'ard, but I'm keeping my old
mother."
At this I urged him to take the money, or more if
he needed. He said, "Yell, sir, you may think it
hodd, but I have a principle never to take money
unless I'm hawful 'ard hup, and can't get along no-
vays without it. Now, sir, you give that money to
somebody vat's vorse off than me. You'll find 'em.
I can get along, and I'm principled agin taking
money if I can get along without. I don't think it's
right." And though I pressed the money on him, he
refused, and said with a smile, as I left him, " Thank
ye all the same, sir; it isn't a vim, it's principle.
Good night." I said, " You'll shake hands with me?"
164 THANKFUL FOR WHAT ?
and I gave him a hearty grip of the hand, and left
him a gentleman of principle.
A gentleman a clergyman said to me : " I have
visited at the houses of the rich, and stood by the
bedside of the wealthy. But never have I been so
lifted up above myself and stimulated to a better
life; never have I seen such grand examples of pa-
tience, trust, and endurance; never have I seen such
cheerful submission to that which, when witnessed,
amazes us that any poor human being can exist under
its severity, than by the side of the bedridden, the
crippled, and the suffering, who are in the midst of
poverty, not knowing what would befall them on the
morrow, living actually by faith, yet rejoicing and
thankful in the midst of privation and suffering."
Come w T ith me; turn under this low doorway;
climb these narrow, creaking stairs; knock at the
door. A pleasant voice bids you enter. You see a
woman sixty-four years of age, her hands folded and
contracted, her whole body crippled and curled to-
gether, as cholera cramped, and rheumatism fixed it
twenty-eight years ago. For sixteen years she has
not moved from her bed, nor looked out of the win-
dow; and she has been in constant pain, while she
cannot move a limb. Listen she is thankful. For
what? For the use of one thumb; with a two-pronged
fork, fastened to a stick, she can turn over the leaves
of an old-fashioned Bible, when placed within her
reach. Hear her: "I'm content to lie here as long as
it shall please Him, and to go when He shall call
me."
Miss Maude Stanley, in her book, says :
" As in looking into a small pool of water remaining in the glitter of
the dirtiest court, after a heavy shower of rain, we may see reflected the
ROMANCE OF POVERTY. 165
clear blue sky and the fleecy cloud, so may we see amongst the poorest
and the most suffering, the reflection of Divine love and of Divine en-
durance. These sights may be hidden from the eyes of some ; if so, let
them cultivate their minds by literature and art, and they will lighten
their own work and bring brightness to the homes they visit.
" And will my readers think with me that there is poetry in the story
of Thomas Wright? They would find him in a low-roofed room of a
London house ; the walls are covered with dirty paper, the ceiling seems
never to have been whitewashed. On the bed has lain for seven years a
poor woman so disfigured that none will look on her willingly for the
second time. And why is she here? Because she has an old husband
and a strong son, who love her tenderly. Often has the relieving officer
offered to take her into the Infirmary ; but no, the young man, who is
past thirty, says he will never tire of working for his mother. For her
sake he has never married. He and his father sit all day together at
their bench, sewing and stitching away at the boots which bring them
daily food and the few comforts they can get for the sick woman.
" For her sake, the son cultivates a few plants outside the window, so
that the breeze may be scented as it comes to her lying on her poor bed.
The father is past seventy, so that lie earns but little; the son works
early and late, for he wants all he can get to keep himself, his father and
his mother. His rent is four and sixpence a week, and he pays a neigh-
bor to come in every day to make his mother's bed. The bed is as nice
and clean as it is possible for them to keep it. The neighbors tell me
that Thomas will work hard till ten, and then he will go out and walk
up and down the street smoking the pipe, which he has denied himself
before. If you speak to him of his mother, he says simply that he will
work and work for her, for he could not bear to think of her being in
the workhouse away from him. To me this seems a long enduring de-
votion that few sons in comfortable houses equal or surpass."
I give you one other description from her book.
She says:
" Let us go up a dark and winding staircase, and there, high up, over-
looking the roof, you will see a tailor sitting all day at his window cross-
legged on his bench. He is always stitching at his work ; and often you
will see beside him the little child asleep ; it has crept up to be near the
father it loves so passionately. He is a Cumberland man, ajid in all the
weary toil of his London life he will often turn his thoughts to those
blue bells and those breezy moors which he has left forever. In another
room, smaller and more crowded, you may hear of the little boy who
gets up of a cold winter's morning long before his brothers and sisters
are awake to light the fire, so that father should have a warm cup of tea
in bed. The father is good and loving to his children ; he works at home
with his eldest son of nineteen at bootmaking. In this same room lives
166 HEROES EST HUMBLE LIFE.
his wife, a girl of fourteen, and three small boys. The room is small,
the walls have dirty paper, but within it there is a wealth of love, spring-
ing from that little Christopher to his ailing father."
Truly there are heroes in humble life. Poverty has
its heroes not a few its victims many. Sometimes
victim and hero are blended in one poor, sinning, suf-
fering, sacrificing, lovable soul. Oh, the stint that
comes from the want of a penny ! waste of life through
want of food; death made gall and bitterness by the
thought of dear ones left destitute ! And yet poverty
sometimes evolves the noblest heroism, touching
bruised hearts with tenderest emotions, quickening
poor souls with hope, evoking self-devotion, and ex-
ercising the magnanimity that doeth all it can, and
giveth all it hath. Oh, ye whom God has enriched
with many blessings, remember it is His will that pure
hearts shall sympathize with His lowly, though erring
ones; and that ready hands be stretched forth to
succor and to save.
CHAPTEE XH.
OPPOSITION TO PROGRESS. THE WORLD'S BENE-
FACTORS.
Great Discoverers and Inventors The Opposition they have met
Satire upon Dr. Jenner An Amusing Picture Employing the
Assistance of the Devil The " Swing Swang " Practice often
against Theories "Horses going to the Dogs" Liverpool &
Manchester Railway Railway Engines and Sheep's Wool Alarm-
ing Predictions The Old Coachman Heroism for the Truth's
Sake Puritanic Strictness The New-England Sabbath "Strain-
t ing at a Gnat " Drunk on the Sabbath Whistling for a Dog
Wife-thrashing and Sabbath-breaking True Liberty and Sunday
Trains Testimonies to the Christian Sabbath: Macaulay, Black-
stone, Adam Smith, Webster, Theodore Parker, &c. Holiday not
Holy Day Jurists and the Sabbath Physicians and the Sabbath
Statesmen and the Sabbath The Old Book Liberty under Law.
UBLIC opinion does not always deter-
mine what is right. Let any man ven-
ture to act an unusual part, and the
world, or public opinion, will frown on
his course. The history of discoveries
and inventions will illustrate the fact.
Because Roger Bacon understood " per-
spective," he was charged with being pos-
sessed of a devil, and was imprisoned for
ten years. Galileo, for asserting that the earth moves,
was condemned to imprisonment and to abjure his
doctrines on his knees. Report has it that as he rose
from his knees he said, " It does move, notwithstand-
ing." Sir Isaac Newton's discoveries were ignored
11 167
168 COW-POX TRAGEDY.
by his own university more than thirty years after
they were published. Columbus discovered the New
World, and met with opposition and persecution. Dr.
Harvey discovered the circulation of the blood, and
was attacked on all sides with every weapon that
ignorance, prejudice, spleen and envy could frame
against him.
The discoverer of vaccination, Dr. Jenner, was
opposed by the medical profession and the public.
I have a curious caricature by Cruikshank, dated
1812, entitled " The Cow-Pox Tragedy, Scene the
Last," and dedicated to the "Associated Jennerian
Cow-poxers of Gloster." It is described as a satire
on Dr. Jenner and his discovery, and on the antici-
pated downfall of the Royal Jennerian College. A
procession at the bottom of the picture is attending
the funeral of Vaccination, aged twelve years. Above
is a monument, inscribed " To the Memory of Vac-
cina, who died April the first." The mourners carry
placards : " National Vaccine Institution for genuine
Cow-Pox, by Act of Parliament; L , Undertaker,"
"Surrey Dispensary, &c." In the centre is a sun
sending forth rays of light, inscribed " Common
Sense," " Candid Investigation," " Reason," " Relig-
ion," " Truth." On a curtain near the top of the
picture is written, " 'Tis Conscience that makes Cow-
herds of us all." On one side is a cornucopia pour-
ing out skulls and crossbones, with labels, " Scald
Heads," " Jennerian Scrofula," " Cow Itch," " Cow-
pox Mange," " Tumid Glands," "Vaccine Eruptions,"
" Blindness." On the other side is a cornucopia
pouring forth roses, with the names of the pamphlets
issued in favor of Jenner, with ridiculous comments.
I might enumerate other discoverers. John Faust,
"THE RTJMMEST GO." 169
the inventor of printing, was charged with employing
the assistance of the devil in the manufacture of
books. The inventors of the ribbon-loom, the stock-
ing-loom, the spinning-jenny, were persecuted. The
pendulum was ridiculed by the name of the " swing-
swang." The inventor of the steam-engine was
called a madman. The introduction of gas was ridi-
culed by the literary and learned, including such men
even as Sir Walter Scott. Fulton was met by in-
credulous smiles, rude jokes, and contemptuous ridi-
cule.
In every department of science and art inventors
and discoverers have been opposed, even to our own
day. Dr. Lardner proved by mathematical demon-
stration that a steamer could not cross the Atlantic,
at the very time that the " Great Western " did cross
it. The early history of railroads is a history of
opposition, at which we smile to-day. The race of
horses was to be extinguished. In my collection of
caricatures I found one entitled " The Horses going
to the Dogs." A steam-coach, called the " Wonder,"
is passing on the road, crowded within and without
with passengers, some of whom are taking a sight
at a group of horses which are standing in an in-
closure, looking startled at the phenomenon. One
blind horse says, "A coach without horses! Non-
sense ! Come, come, Master Dobbin, you are a trotter,
but you must not think to humbug me because I am
blind." Another exclaims, " Well, dash my wig ! if
that is not the rummest go I ever saw ! " Two dogs
are sitting in the foreground; one asks the question,
" I say, Wagtail, what do you think of this new in-
vention?" The other dog replies, "Why, I think we
shall have meat enough soon." The cows would
1TO HISSING, FIERY SERPENT.
cease to give milk all along the line, vegetables would
cease to grow, the cultivation of corn would be pre-
vented, and all the springs would be dried up by the
extensive excavations.
The Liverpool and Manchester Railway was opened
on the 15th of September, 1830. Never was any
scheme assailed with stronger invective or ridicule
than the railway scheme in England. In 1825 the
" Quarterly Review " says, " "We should as soon ex-
pect people to suffer themselves to be fired off upon
one of the Congreve ricochet rockets, as to trust
themselves to the mercy of a machine going eighteen
or twenty miles an hour." A member of Parliament
declared his opinion " that a railway could not com-
pete with a canal, for even with the best locomotive
engine the average rate would be but three and a half
miles an hour."
Among the reasons for preventing the London and
Northwestern Railway coming to Northampton, it
was urged that the smoke of the trains would seri-
ously discolor the wool on the sheep, and the passing
so repeatedly through their meadows of such a rum-
bling, hissing, fiery serpent would so alarm, fret, and
distract their cattle that they could not fat them;
therefore the road was turned away from Northampton.
The innkeepers, coach-proprietors, hostlers, and
coachmen made common cause against the rail.
"Ah," said one of the last stage-coachmen, in giving
a history of his opposition and final surrender, "ah,
sir, I did my hutmost to oppose 'um. I vas von of
the last to give in. I kep' a-losing day arter day. I
drove a coach the last day vith an old voman and a
carpet-bag hinside and some hempty trunks on the
top. I was determined to 'ave some passengers, so^I
"VE DO RUN" BEHIND." 171
took my vife and children, 'cos nobody else vouldn't
go. Ye vas game to the last, but ve guv in. The
landlord of this 'ere 'ouse vas an austerious man. He
use' to hobserve that he honly vished a railway com-
mittee vould dine hat 'is 'ouse, he'd pizen 'em all ;
and he vould too, sir! Lor, sir, see vat ve've corned
to, all along of the rail ! Yy, sir, I've been werry
popular, I have. I've been drownded in 'thank yers'
from ladies for never letting nobody step through
their bandboxes. Yy, sir, the chambermaids use' to
smile hat me, the dogs vagged their blessed tails and
barked ven I come. But it's all hover now, sir; and
the gemmen that kep' this 'ere 'ouse takes tickets at a
station, poor fellow! and the chambermaids makes
scalding hot tea behind a mahogany counter for people
as 'as no time to drink it in. Ah, veil, veil, sir, 'ow
ve do run behind in this vorld, surely ! "
In all the world's history, when men have touched
a prejudice, or affected an interest, or interfered with
some vested rights, or struck a blow at some old
established wrong, they have borne the scorn, con-
tempt, ridicule, persecution and opposition of public
opinion, all the way to the victory. How often a
really true and brave man has been hindered in a
course of usefulness, by the slavish fear of incurring
the censure of the world! I do not say that public
opinion is never right. On abstract questions it is
generally right; for instance, truth, righteousness, and
justice are good, but in the application of these prin-
ciples, public opinion is often at fault.
The great error with many of us is, that we do not
try our conduct by the standard of eternal right, but
by "What will others say?" ""What will others
think?" "How far will public opinion sustain me?"
172 RIGHTEOUS OVER-MUCH.
The world will never be the better for us, if we trim
our sails to the breeze of public opinion. It is our
duty to settle the matter "am I right?" and then
resist, as a rock resists the dashing wave. Let me
" Go forth among men, not mailed in scorn,
But in the armor of a pure intent.
Great duties are before me and great aims ;
And whether crowned or crownless, when I fall,
It matters not, so that God's work is done."
Oh, it is grand to see a man confronting the crowd
for their own good, seizing a truth, standing by it,
and, if need be, dying for it; becoming a pioneer of
humanity in some new rough path; at his own risk
and cost, building a pathway on which another gen-
eration shall march to higher degrees of wisdom,
virtue, and freedom!
I know, too, it is becoming the fashion to rail at the
Puritans, and ridicule the strictness of our fathers, in
moral and religious things, a very easy thing to do.
It always has been easy to ridicule any effort to be
better, or do better; probably it always will be. The
very imperfections of our earliest efforts in any direc-
tion leave many an open place for assault and ridi-
cule. There have been very spicy things said and
written about the dolefulness of the early New Eng-
land Sabbath.
It is not to be denied, that in this age we are terri-
bly afraid of being too good, of obeying God's law
too strictly. " Being righteous over-much " is con-
stantly quoted against those who plead for the stricter
observance of the Sabbath, and protest against its
violation. Any law or custom that interferes with
our real, or supposed comfort, or the largest personal
liberty, we are apt to resist as an injustice. I admit
TWO SHILLINGS ON SUNDAY. 173
there is such a thing as " straining at a gnat and
swallowing a camel." A lady in Edinburgh was
walking in the street, one Sunday morning, with her
pet dog, when the animal strayed from her. Seeing
a man, who happened to be very drunk, she asked
him if he would be kind enough to whistle her dog
back to her. " Madam, I'm ashamed of ye, to ask a
decent body like me to violate the holy Sabbath day
by whistling."
A gentleman in Scotland hired a carriage to take
him to church. He asked the driver what the fare
was. " Our regular fare is one shilling, but we charge
two shillings Sunday to discourage Sabbath-breaking."
In an old church register in New England is found
recorded the fact that a certain man thrashed his wife
one Sunday. The church dealt with him for Sabbath-
breaking only, probably because thrashing his wife
was either a work of necessity or mercy. To many
it is very inconvenient to have such intangible things
as scruples of law and conscience come up to bar
the way against going where they please, when they
please, and in what fashion they please. All the dis-
tortions of obedience to the biblical Sabbath require-
ments do not alter one hair's line the beneficent eflect
of obedience to them, or any other of God's laws. We
are finding out, the medical faculty are finding out,
the lunatic asylums are showing, the statistics are
proving, and all thoughtful experience is testifying,
that the Sabbath, and the- Bible way of keeping it,
holds in its hands the life, health, sanity, wisdom, pri-
vate and public virtue, well-considered statesmanship
everything outside of what is called religion that
civilization values, and all of the true law of liberty
in religion also.
174 THE CHRISTIAN SABBATH.
There is no true liberty but in steadfast obedience
to righteous law. That brotherhood of locomotive
engineers that met some years since in St. Louis, had
felt their way along the path of experience, when they
adopted two things: One, a rule expelling an engi-
neer addicted to the use of intoxicating drinks, and
the other a resolution favoring the abolition of Sun-
day trains.
Is it reasonable to suppose that we can drop a cor-
ner beam out of our building in family or state, and
not expect the whole structure to be unsafe? The
very rate at which we are travelling, in oar path of
advance, should make us look well to every bolt and
fastening. Lord Macaulay said, " If Sunday had not
been observed as a day of rest, during the last three
centuries, we should have been at this moment a
poorer and less civilized people than we are." Black-
stone adds his testimony: "A corruption of morals
usually follows a profanation of the Sabbath." Says
Adam Smith, " The Sabbath, as a political institution,
is of inestimable value, independently of its claim to
divine authority." Justice McLean declares, " Where
there is 110 Christian Sabbath, there is no Christian
morality; and without this, free institutions can not
long be sustained." Daniel Webster said : " The
longer I live, the more highly do I estimate the Chris-
tian Sabbath, and the more grateful do I feel toward
those who impress its importance on the community."
Theodore Parker (though he did not believe in the
Sabbath as a, divine institution, yet did believe in the
day as a political necessity) said : " I should be sorry
to see the Sunday devoted to common work; sorry to
hear the clatter of a mill, or the rattle of the wheels
of business on that day. I look with pain on men
STRONG TESTIMONY. 175
engaged needlessly in work on that day; not with
the pain of wounded superstition, but a deeper re-
gret." When Mr. Parker was travelling on the con-
tinent of Europe, he expressed the decided opinion
that the New England method of keeping Sunday
was far better than the European method : " For on
the continent of Europe the Sunday is apt to be a
mere holiday, while in ISTew England it is a thoughtful
holy-day." (Vol. iii. 89.)
After John Quincy Adams had been President of
the United States, he presided at a large national
convention for promoting the better observance of the
Sabbath. He signed the appeal which the conven-
tion made to the country. Our greatest judge, The-
ophilus Parsons, would never give legal advice on
the Sabbath-day, because he agreed with Sir Matthew
Hale in thinking that the rest of one day in seven
is a duty for all men, keeping the mind and body
healthy.
The celebrated physician Dr. Farre declared that
the keeping of the Sunday is necessary for the public
health; and our own physician, Dr. J. C. "Warren,
fully indorsed the testimony of Dr. Farre. TVm. Wil-
berforce said, "I can truly declare that, to me, the
Sabbath has been invaluable." "When Sir Samuel
Romilly, Solicitor-General of England during Fox's
administration, committed suicide (^sTov. 2, 1818) , Mr.
Wilberforce said, "If he had suffered his mind to
enjoy such occasional remission, it is highly probable
that the strings of life would never have snapped
from over tension." The celebrated Castlereagh, who
was Foreign Secretary in 1812, committed suicide in
1822; Wilberforce said, "Poor fellow, he was cer-
tainly deranged, the effect, probably, of continued
176 THE OLD BOOK.
wear of the mind and the non-observance of the Sab-
bath. It is curious to hear the newspapers speaking
of incessant application to business; forgetting that
by the weekly admission of a day of rest, which our
Maker has enjoined, our faculties would be preserved
from the effects of this constant strain."
We shall find, the more fairly we examine it, if we
really desire to find, the way to give liberty and rights
to all, if we wish to rule and make safe all dangerous
classes, insure the largest culture, the happiness with
least alloy, the safety in. our progress, the most bril-
liant and steady light on the page of our future his-
tory, we shall find the easiest, the least costly, and
the surest way to do this contained in the leaves of an
old Book that all the power of human research, all
the pride of human opinion, or all the subtlety of
mortal reasoning, can never put out of the world.
God be thanked, so clear it is, and so simple, that
a wayfaring man or a fool need not err in finding his
right way by it. The Hebrew boy Samuel found it
so, thousands of years ago, even though examples of
moral weakness and wickedness poisoned nearly all
the atmosphere about him. He never whined about
its being hard to obey these laws, never considered
himself abused that he could not follow a multitude
to do evil, and be able at the same time to clutch the
reward of obedience. He grew to make and unmake
kings for his nation, and was de facto king in the
sense of ruling; and his ruling in that fashion will
live when Bismarcks and Beaconsfields have been
obliterated from earthly history.
As in mathematics, everything possible in our mount
to the farthest bound of the universe, and by which
we measure, assign, and weigh all things, is wrapped
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 177
in a few simple laws; even so all the possibilities of
our personal future, all the hopes of a true and glori-
ous national future, all that will yet glorify human
life, find their only certainty in the steadfast obedi-
ence to and the practice of the few laws of that grand
old Book to whose requirements we shall be com-
pelled to submit in one fashion or another. Benjamin
Franklin advised Thomas Paine not to print the "Age
of Reason," " for," said he, " if men are so bad with
the Bible, what would they be without it? "
CHAPTER XIII.
MANLINESS AND MORAL PRINCIPLE. INDUSTRY
VERSUS IDLENESS.
False Ideas of Manliness Physical Strength no Test Lord Bacon a
Swindler Fast Living, cowardly Horse-Racing and Prize-Fight-
ing Manliness is Godliness False Opinions scorn Labor " Only
a Mechanic" The Fashion of Useless People "Only a Third-
class Carriage " Story concerning Lady Charlotte Guest The
Cinder-hole Labor and Etiquette Idle Men mischievous The
Dandy Consequences of a Useless Life Career of Beau Brum-
mell The Fop in a Breach-of-Promise Suit Influence of Society
upon us Example better than Precept Value of a Noble Life
Ministers and the Half-price Genius no Substitute for Moral Prin-
ciple Burns's Perverted Genius The Painter Haydon.
VERY young man considers it high
praise to be called a "manly fellow;"
and yet how many false ideas there are
of manliness ! Physical strength is not
the test. Samson was endowed with tre-
mendous bodily powers. He was a grand
specimen of humanity. See him rending
the lion as he would a kid, or carrying away
the gates of Gaza ! But he was a weak creature after
all, unable to resist the wiles of an artful woman.
Great intellect is not the test of true manhood.
Some of the most intellectual men who have ever
lived were not manly. Francis, Lord Bacon, was a
prodigy of intellect, the Sciences sat at his feet ex-
tolling him as their benefactor; yet we see him led
178
VICE IS UNMANLY. 179
down Tower Hill a prisoner for swindling! Was he
manly when as Lord Chancellor he took with one
hand 300, and with the other 400 from the op-
posing suitor, and then gave judgment in favor of the
400? See him enter his prison, convicted of bribery,
fraud, and deceit! Was he, with his great intellect,
manly?
Fast living is not manliness. Some men think that
to strut, and to swagger, and puff, and swear, and
become an adept in vice, is to be manly. To some,
the essentials of manliness are to " toss off their glass
like a man," " spend money freely like a man," " stand
up in a fight like a man," " smoke like a man," " drive
a fast horse like a man ; " forgetting that virtue is
true manliness. Temperance, chastity, truthfulness,
fortitude, benevolence, are characteristics and essen-
tials of manliness.
There is no manliness in sin of any kind. Vice is
essentially unmanly. Just so far as evil habits are
connected with what are called manly sports, degrada-
tion follows.
There may be manliness in a rowing-match, a foot-
race, games of cricket or ball, pitching quoits, skat-
ing, if disconnected with gambling; but prize-fighting,
dog-fighting, cock-fighting, are not manly sports. I
express my own opinion in saying that I do not con-
sider horse-racing a manly amusement. Of the two,
I think prize-fighting the more honorable. If two
men choose to train themselves to endurance, patience,
and skill, and then meet of their own free will to
batter themselves to pieces, I consider it is more manly
than to drive a horse, with whip and spur, till his
reeking sides are covered with foam and dripping
with blood and sweat, his nostrils distended and bleed-
180 "OH, MY HORSES!"
ing, his whole frame quivering with pain and exhaus-
tion, for the sake of sport, and transferring cash from
the pocket of one man to that of another without an
equivalent.
To be manly is to be honest, generous, brave, noble,
and pure in speech and life. The highest form of
manliness is godliness. Some one has said, " An
honest man is the noblest work of God." If we
mean honesty in the common acceptation of the word,
it is not true ; a merely honest man is not the noblest
work of God, but the man who is honest toward God
and toward his fellow-man, in short, a Christian
man, is the noblest work of God.
There is a class of men and women who despise
labor, who avoid all intimacy or contact with those
who work for a living. " Oh, he 's only a mechanic!"
" Oh, she lives out ! " Some young ladies would be
shocked at the idea of marrying a mere mechanic.
In fact it is the fashion among the most useless of all
God's creatures to despise those who are the most
useful, and by whom they obtain all that makes them
what they are. They revel in the wealth obtained by
labor while they heartily despise it.
A gentleman was travelling on a train in England
when a collision took place. He was greatly alarmed
for his horses, and cried out, " Oh, my horses ! my
horses ! " but, putting his head out of the window, he
exclaimed, "Ah, thank God! it's only a third-class
carriage ! "
A story is told of Lady Charlotte Guest, the prin-
cipal proprietor of the Dowlais Iron Works. Her
aristocratic friends, while they enjoyed her princely
hospitality, had often sneered at her extensive iron
works, which they called her " cinder-hole." As soon
A BALANCE-SHEET. 181
as the balance-sheet of the works was completed, a
copy was always dispatched to her wherever she
might be. On one occasion she gave a grand party
at her London residence, and when the festivity was
at its height, a courier arrived from Dowlais with a
tin box, containing the expected document. Lady
Charlotte ordered it to be brought to her in the bril-
liantly-lighted saloon, where she was surrounded by a
circle of her aristocratic friends and relatives, who
probably occasionally enjoyed a sneer at the " cinder-
hole."
"What's that, Lady Charlotte?"
All crowded around the tin box.
" 'Tis our balance-sheet."
"Balance-sheet!" exclaimed the fair aristocrats.
"What's a balance-sheet?"
" It 's an account made up and showing the profits
down at the works for the last twelve months."
The company laughed, for they thought of the "cin-
der-hole." " And so that's a balance-sheet ! " crowd-
ing round the paper with the double entries, and the
red lines, looking on it as a phenomenon. " Why, I
never saw one before! But what are the profits?"
Lady Charlotte, not seeming to heed them, said as
though she spoke to herself:
" Three hundred thousand pounds ! a very fairyear,"
and she recommitted the balance-sheet to its tin case,
while peeresses looked almost petrified.
" Three hundred thousand pounds profits ! What,
you don't mean that in one year?"
" In one year," was the reply, as though there was
nothing at all remarkable about the matter.
" I'd be a Cinderella myself! " said a Border count-
ess, " to a husband with such a business. Three hun-
182 "LET us BE GENTEEL."
dred thousand pounds, and all from that nasty cold
iron, it beats the glass slipper ! "
" Labor is the great law of the universe ; labor is
the law of humanity; labor is essential to the healthy
development of our physical, intellectual, and moral
life." Think of a man doing nothing! What weari-
ness! What an intolerable life! Why, the most
dreadful punishment is solitary confinement with
nothing to do. Men have committed suicide, weary
of living to eat, drink, and sleep. Idle men are gen-
erally mischievous, arising from the fact that a man
must do something, and those who despise honorable
labor verify the truth of Dr. Watts's lines:
" Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do."
They could sympathize with the boy who sings :
/
" I wish I was the President of these United States ;
I never would do nothing, but swing on all the gates ! "
and well would it be for society if they did nothing
worse; but what miseries, what mental dyspepsia
afflicts the wretch who has nothing to do !
Ezekiel says, " Behold this was the iniquity of thy
sister Sodom; pride, fulness of bread, and abundance
of idleness was in her! "
Milton puts this sentiment into the lips of Adam,
" God hath set labor and rest as day and night to men
successive." Man must labor. We must all earn our
bread by the sweat of the brow, or of the brain, either
with the hands, or feet, or head, on the bench, at the
bar, in the pulpit, in the press, on the deck, or in the
trenches, behind the counter or in the counting-house.
It is the great ambition of a class to be genteel, as
Mrs. Bichley says, " Let us be genteel or die ! " We
BEAU BRUMMELL.. 183
must do the genteel thing. Better tell a lie than
break the rules of gentility! By gentility I do not
mean good breeding, or politeness. It is bad manners
to push a knife into your mouth while eating very
bad! but not so bad as to forget your true friends
and follow after those of a higher degree. It is bad
manners not to distinguish a fork from a toothpick,
but it is not so mean as to be ashamed of honest pov-
erty, or blush for an honorable calling. The gentility
I mean is a " diabolical invention which kills natural
kindness and honest friendship." The most genteel
people are often the most heartless.
One of the most useless of all human animals is
the dandy. He is a creation of the tailor. You meas-
ure his worth by the yard. You are puzzled to know
whether he is a female gentleman, or a male lady;
he will exhibit himself to the admiration, as he sup-
poses, of every lady who is so fortunate as to cross
his path. He does nothing for himself, or anybody
else ; his occupation is to dress, and perfume himself,
and carry a dainty little cane, doing himself up as if
he were a shirt.
There can hardly be a better lesson taught of the
consequences of a useless life than that presented by
the brilliant yet melancholy career of Beau Brummell,
the refined, the fastidious Beau Brummell, the " glass
of fashion and the mould of form," " the observed of
all observers," the companion and pet of royalty and
the nobility. At the last of his life he could not be
kept clean. The poor, " dandled, deserted, doomed,
demented dandy, died wretchedly on a straw mattress,
in such a disgusting state as cannot be described."
Yet after all, some of these fops estimate themselves
at about a fair price, as in a suit for damages in a
12
184 EXAMPLE VS. PRECEPT.
breach-of-promise case, one of this class was offered
two hundred dollars to settle it. " Two hundred dol-
lars! Two hundred dollars for ruined hopes, for
blighted affections, for a wretched existence! Two
hundred dollars for a blasted life ! Two hundred dol-
lars for all this! No, never! never! Make it three
hundred dollars, and it's a bargain! "
Almost every man is sensible of the influence of
society on his own mind. We are often conscious of
the influence for evil or good of a single mind with
which we are brought in close contact. " A doubter
will awaken in us a spirit of doubt; the caviller, a
captious spirit; the cold-natured chills our own feel-
ings; the man of low aims or small energy often
leaves us listless, hopeless, or inoperative; the man of
life, spirit, determination, and energy seems to quicken
and inspire our own nature." The exhibition of what
is noble, the embodiment of. what is right, beautiful,
and heroic in a life, produces a far greater effect on
the human heart than precept or exhortation. " Ex-
ample is better than precept."
When Lord Peterborough lodged for a season with
Fenelon, he said at parting, " I shall become a Chris-
tian in spite of myself."
A young man, about to be ordained, stated that at
one period of his life he had been nearly betrayed
into the principles of infidelity ; " but," said he, " there
was one argument in favor of Christianity I could
never refute, and that was the consistent conduct of
my own father."
How many professed Christians fail in exerting an
influence by inconsistency, their precepts differing
from their practice.
A story is told of a minister, who, wishing to take
"PAY LIKE A HEATHEN." 185
advantage of the custom of charging ministers out
"West half price, said to the landlord of a hotel where
he had put up, " I am a minister." " What ! you a
minister! I should never have guessed it; you asked
no blessing at your meals. I went with you to your
room, and took away the light, and you did not say
your prayers. You ate like a heathen, drank like a
heathen, slept like a heathen, and I guess you had
better pay like a heathen."
All the talent, intellect, or genius that men ever
possessed will not compensate for the want of fixed,
moral principle. In the world's history, how many
sad instances appear of men of genius dwarfed like
wilted weeds, for the lack of moral principle, for the
want of moral courage, shrinking ever from asserting
what their own conscience dictates as right, if it
shocks the prejudices of others; some are even like
a very celebrated poet, with a warm heart, generous
disposition, brave, and at times with high impulses, as
when he penned the " Cotter's Saturday ]S"ight; " but
who for the lack of firm, moral, and religious princi-
ples, left behind him monuments of his perverted
genius, in the shape of unpublished poems, songs, and
letters, at which humanity must blush, and at which
angels themselves might weep. Had he foreseen all
the evil effects that some of his writings were to pro-
duce in that dear old Scotland he loved so warmly, he
would have burned them and his pen too. A little
before his death, he bitterly deplored the existence of
the unworthy progeny of his genius, and declined
with horror the proposal of some wretch of a book-
seller to publish them in full.*
* Byron said of Burns: What an antithetical mind, tenderness,
roughness ; delicacy, coarseness ; sentiment, sensuality ; soaring and grov-
elling ; dirt and Deity ; all mixed up in that compound of inspired clay !
186 HAYDON THE PAINTEE.
I might speak of many others, who by their per-
verted genius have " fanned the polluted fires of de-
bauchery; have shed a rainbow lustre around mere
animalism; taught blasphemers a more pithy pro-
fanity; insulted religion through its forms and its
professors; treated sacred things with levity; and
produced immeasurable mischief" among the young
of both sexes.
The painter Haydon said : " Wilkie's system was
Wellington's, principle and prudence the ground-
work of risk. Mine," says he, " was .Napoleon's,
audacity, with a defiance of principle, if principle is
in the way. I get into prison" (and, poor fellow! he
killed himself soon after) ; " Napoleon died at St.
Helena; Wellington is living, and honored; Wilkie
has secured a competency; while I am poor and ne-
cessitous as ever."
Let no man use evil as a means for the success of
any scheme, however grand. "Permission of evil
that good may come " may be the prerogative of
Deity, and should never be ventured on by mortals.
Poor Haydon said once, " There are three things I
long to see before I die : the Americans thrashed at
sea, my own debts paid, and historical painting en-
couraged by the government." Poor Haydon! he
died deeply in debt, neglected by the government,
and the Americans unthrashed at sea.
CHAPTER XIV.
HAPPINESS AND TRUE HEROISM. GOLD, WHAT IT
DOES AND WHAT IT DOES NOT BRING.
Signing away Liberty False Ideas of Happiness Rothschild John
Jacob Astor A Girl's Idea of Perfect Happiness The Snow-
blocked Train Lord Chesterfield's Confession Irishman's Com-
plaint of the Moon "If" The Two Buckets Sir John Sinclair
and the Laborer "A New Way to pay Old Debts" The History
of Misers Experience of a Millionnaire " The Happiest Fellows
in the World " Anecdote of John Wilson Happiness among the
Poor Lord Braco and the Farthing The Celebrity and his Hat
The Burden of a Debt The Clergyman and the Collection Dodging
Creditors Indebtedness degrades Extravagance Church Debts
Sacrifice for Others Moral Heroism Victory over Self.
(HAT false ideas many entertain of
freedom! Every man desires to
be free. God has implanted the
desire in every human heart.
What is freedom? A man once
told me he would not sign the
pledge, because that would be the
signing away of his liberty ! " What
liberty?" "Why, to do as I please."
To do as you please? Is that liberty? There
is no liberty without law; it is licentiousness. To
do as you please, independent of the law of God,
is to be a slave. He only is a free man who renders
Btrict and steadfast obedience to righteous law. True
187
188 BOARD AND CLOTHES.
liberty consists as much in exemption from the slavery
within, as the slavery without.
Remember, young man, whatever elevates man's
nature, whatever lifts him above the trammels of
earth and raises him nearer heaven, brings him nearer
the standard of true freedom; and every passion in-
dulged is a fetter placed on his intellect; every loiter-
ing in the mazes of unwholesome pleasure, if at all
redeemed, must one day be redeemed at too dear a
price. ~No man ever excelled without the exercise of
self-denial. Beneath the allurements of passion there
lurks a worse than Egyptian bondage.
Very few people in this world are contented
thoroughly contented. A man once put up a board
on his land, with this notice : " I will give this field to
any one who is really contented." An applicant came.
" Are you really contented ? " " Yes." " Then what
do you want my field for? "
We have false ideas of happiness. "What will make
me happy contented? "Oh, if I were rich, I
should be happy! " A gentleman who was enjoying
the hospitalities of the great millionnaire and king of
finance, Rothschild, as he looked at the superb ap-
pointments of the mansion, said to his host, "You
must be a happy man." " Happy? " said he, " happy!
I happy happy ! Ay, happy ! Let us change the
subject."
John Jacob Astor was told that he must be a very
happy man, being so rich. " "Why," said he, " would
you take care of my property for your board and
clothes? That's all I get for it,"
-I remember some years ago being very much
amused at the idea of perfect happiness expressed by
a young girl. On a very stormy night, the train be-
BREAD AND BUTTER. 189
tween Syracuse and Utica was blocked by snow, and
we were compelled to remain in the cars all night on
the track. Of course, we were hungry, and the wel-
come news was brought to the patient passengers that
tea, bread and butter, ham and eggs, could be obtained
at a house but a few rods distant from the cars. Off
I started, in the driving snow, stumbling along as best
I could, and found the house. The room, almost the
only one in it, was crowded with eager seekers after
food. I waited some time to get a chance, when I
accosted a young girl plump, rosy, and apparently
very good-natured as she was rushing around, all
excitement. I said, " Will you please give me some
bread and butter and tea to take to a lady in the
cars? "
" Oh, yes," said she, very volubly; " bread and but-
ter! certainly. I'll give you some bread and butter.
How much do you want; two or three slices? thick
or thin? much butter or little? Certainly you shall
have some bread and butter."
"And tea," I said.
"Ah, yes; tea. What have you got to put it in?
You can't carry a cup and saucer and a handful of
bread and butter through the snow. You'll fall down
and spill the tea. I'll tell you what I'll do. I've got
a mug it's a pretty mug. I'll lend it to you ; but
you must not break it, and you must bring it back."
When she brought the refreshments, she said:
" Now I'll fix you. Hold the bread and butter in
one hand; now put your finger through the handle
of the mug. There, you are all right; but bring back
the mugl"
" You have a great number of visitors at your house
to-night? "
190 HAVING A BEAU.
"Yes," she replied; "more than I ever saw in this
house in all my life."
" You look very happy."
" Yes," she said, her face beaming with brightness ;
"it's perfectly delightful. I like company; it's splen-
did. I'm just as happy as ever I can be. Why, do
you know it's almost as good as having a beau? "
I hope the young lady by this time knows by expe-
rience what it is to realize something more than per-
fect happiness. We sometimes hear the remark:
" Oh ! if I could be elegant and accomplished and
conspicuous, I should be happy." Few men have ever
possessed greater advantages for the attainment and
enjoyment of worldly pleasures, and no man drank
deeper of the draught, than Lord Chesterfield. Hear
him, at the last: "I have seen the silly rounds of
business and of pleasure, and have done with them
all. I have enjoyed all the pleasures of the world,
and do not regret their loss. I appraise them at their
real value, which is in truth very low. I have been
behind the scenes. I have seen all the coarse pulleys
and dirty ropes which exhibit and move the gaudy
machines; and I have seen and smelt the tallow can-
dles which illuminated the whole decoration to the
astonishment of the ignorant audience. When I re-
flect on what I have seen, what I have heard, and
what I have done, I can hardly persuade myself that
all that frivolous hurry of bustle and pleasure of the
world had any reality ; but I look upon all that is past
as one of those romantic dreams which opium com-
monly occasions, and I do by no means desire to
repeat the nauseous dose for the sake of the fugitive
dream. I think of nothing but killing time the best
way I can, now that he has become my enemy."
"IF I WAS MARRIED." 191
Yes, this killing of time is the most laborious of all
work.
Much of the happiness or misery of our lives de-
pends on ourselves. I have known persons who
would not permit themselves to be happy, who always
look on the shadows of life. There is more light than
shade ; yet some see gloom even in the sunshine
anticipating trouble, looking out for disaster
prophets of evil, they perceive the cloud in the
brightest skies.
Observe such an one ; he would throw a damper on
a funeral. The face set in such a forlorn and doleful
expression, you would imagine that no smile could
ripple the hard surface, or relax the muscles, so rigid
in the cast of utter misery. If the sun shines on a
bright morning: "Ah, it won't last long! there's a
mackerel sky." They are almost vexed at the moon
in its beauty, " because," as the Irishman complained,
" it only shines on bright nights when we don't want
it; if it would but give light when it is needed, it
would be worth while." They make themselves mis-
erable by the most absurd anticipations of what may
come; like the servant-girl, who had never even re-
ceived an oflfer of marriage, sitting on the curb of the
cistern, crying bitterly.
"What is the matter?"
" Oh, dear ! I was thinking that if I was married,
and my baby should fall in the cistern and be drowned,
how dreadfully I should feel."
Yes, and such persons do feel dreadfully in antici-
pation of what they should feel if thus borrow-
ing trouble. Why, man, wake up ! Come out of the
dreary atmosphere of ifs. Look about you. Have
you no blessings? As the poor slave did, "reckon
192 A CONTENTED MAN.
up your marcies." Are you in pain? No. Are you
pinched and poor? No. Have your enemies tri-
umphed over you? No. Then what is the matter?
Rouse yourself from this chronic state of self-imposed
misery it does not pay. You are cheating yourself;
you are drawing poison, like the spider, from the very
flowers. Cheer up, man! and, like the bee, suck
honey.
" How dismal you look ! " said a bucket to his com-
panion, as they were going to the well.
" Ah ! " replied the other, " I was reflecting on the
uselessness of our being filled, for let us go away ever
so full, we always come back empty."
" Dear me ! how strange to look at it in that way,"
said the bucket. "Now I enjoy the thought that
however empty we come, we always go away full.
Only look at it in that light, and you will be as cheer-
ful as I am."
An old colored woman, over a hundred years of age,
said in answer to the inquiry, " Are you thankful for
your pains?" " Yes, missus, I'se thankful for ebery
ting as it comes I'se obleeged to ye."
Sir John Sinclair once alighted from his chariot
near a singularly abject-looking hovel, and entered
into conversation with an old laborer who lived there
alone. On leaving, he asked if he could serve him in
any way.
" Sir," said the old man, with a look of honest con-
tentment, "there is not in this world a thing that I
want."
Sir John often said that poor abode was the only
home in which he had found perfect happiness, and
requested his daughter to draw him a picture of that
one-windowed hut where lived a man who had not a
MONEY-GETTING. 193
wish ungratified. When Sir John wished the great
Lord Melville on his birthday many happy years, the
minister of state replied, " They must be happier than
the last, for I have not had one happy day in it."
When blessings come like " birds to the windows
of your soul, singing their joyous notes and seeking
a responsive melody in your own heart, why put shut-
ters on the windows, why draw down the blinds and
miss the sweet warbling and the comfort through
your own perverseness? Tear down the blinds, let
the flood of sunshine pour into your heart;, throw
wide open the shutters ; let the music float in ; " take
a cheerful view of life; come out of the gloom of
your morbid apprehensions it will pay, and you
will look from the heights into the dreary cell of your
miserable fancies, as men look into the dark dungeon
from which they have escaped.
Many men destroy the happiness of their lives by
the absorbing passion for money-getting. It is not
an unworthy ambition to get rich, to accumulate prop-
erty; but the real gain depends on how you get it,
and how you use it. While money may be a blessing
to the possessor, and through him a blessing to the
world, it may be and often is a curse to the owner,
and through him a curse to the world. Ask the man
who has stooped to mercantile dishonor and baseness,
and who by successful villany and swindling has real-
ized an envied fortune, "What have you gained? "
"I have been shrewd, long-headed, smart. I am
prosperous and a man of capital."
Is that all? A philosopher has said, "Though a
man without money is poor, a man with nothing but
money is poorer." What has such a man but money?
Every piece of plate on his sumptuous table may re-
194 MAN OF CAPITAL.
fleet the pinched face of a hungry creditor, and the
music in his gorgeous entertainments be discordant
with the cry of a defrauded orphan. When Sir Giles
Overreach in Massinger's play of A New Way to Pay
Old Debts attempts to draw his sword, he is driven
to bay, and says:
"Ha! I am feeble. Some undone widow sits upon my arm,
And takes away the use of it ; and my sword,
Glued to my scabbard, with wronged orphans' tears,
Will not be drawn. Ha! What? Are these hangmen
That come to bind my hands and then to drag me
Before the judgment-seat? Now they are new shapes
And do appear like furies with steel whips
To scourge my ulcerous soul."
"Yes, he is a man of capital; he owns houses,
lands, stocks, and shares." Capital! What is capi-
tal? Character is capital; honor is capital. What
capital has a man when integrity and honor are gone,
bartered for a miserable mess of pottage? Capital!
when everything noble is stranded as an outcast thing
on the sands of dishonor. He must be judged by
what he is, not by what he has. What has he? By
heartless villany he has capital. What is he? Wretch-
edly poor in all that constitutes true and noble manli-
ness. Perish gold and estate, stocks and shares; but
give me integrity and honor, and when I die let me
leave the record of an upright life.
Gold is a good thing in charitable fingers, but not
when it becomes a golden calf for men's worship;
then it does not pay. Paulding said, "Money has
become our god, or rather our demon, and the belief
seems to be fast gaining ground that to win a fortune
and lose a soul is playing for a stake worthy of
rational and immortal beings."
USES OF MONEY. 195
The madness for money is among the strongest and
lowest of the passions. How pitiful to see a man
willing to work, fight, beg, starve, lie, cheat, shave
and steal for money, only to hoard it, gloat over it,
count it, and handle it! Miserable is the man, with
all his glorious faculties, whose sole ambition is to
get and hold money, and then worship it, commune
with it, think about it, plan to get more of it, content
never to part with it, when it becomes the sovereign
good, yes, the heaven of a human spirit! Such a
man might almost travesty the language of devotion,
and, making gold his god, say of it what the Psalmist
said, in his lofty aspirations after the highest good,
"Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is
none on earth I desire above thee," to prize it, not
for its uses, but for itself; such a man, with untold
wealth, is poor indeed.
A miser has been known to die in the dark, to save
the expense of a candle. One poor wretch consoled
himself, on his death-bed, at a crafty bargain he had
made concerning his funeral, with an undertaker who
had married his only child. The history of misers is
but a record of wretched creatures who have sub-
mitted to inflictions, sufferings, and life toils, to hoard
and worship money.
Rightly used, money is a great blessing. It is the
procurer of comforts and luxuries, as well as the
necessaries of life ; gives us admission to many of the
pleasant places of God's earth, to much that is rare,
curious, and enchanting in nature and art; and to
lack money is a misfortune. Yet the heaviest ills
that befall us money cannot cure : it cannot minister
to a mind diseased ; it cannot purchase health, or hin-
der the progress of decay; it cannot restore youth, or
196 QUEER HAPPINESS.
buy back fair fame to the dishonored ; it cannot re-
store to the bereaved the loved ones that are gone,
nor cure the many ills so fatal to a man's welfare.
Gold may buy a wife, but cannot purchase love; it
may gain civility, but not respect; it may introduce
to society, but cannot procure friendship ; it may ob-
tain servility, but not esteem; it may buy position
and sumptuous living, but cannot purchase happiness,
that is a home-made article ; it no more consists in
the accumulation of wealth than in snuffing up the
east wind.
A millionnaire, upon being asked what was the hap-
piest period of his life, promptly said, " When I was
working on a farm at twelve dollars a month."
Some men have queer ideas of happiness. A cap-
tain of a man-of-war said, "I have left my ship's
company the happiest fellows in the world: I've just
flogged one half of them, and they are glad it's over,
and the others are glad they did not get it."
John Wilson, after fishing in a loch in Selkirkshire,
nearly all day, without a nibble, watched all the time
by a shepherd and his dog, was turning despondently
away, when the shepherd said:
" Ye'll no hae killed mony trout? "
"No; I've had no sport at all, not a nibble."
" I dare say no ; for it's weel kent there was never
a trout in that loch since the beginning of crea-
tion."
A man who seeks happiness in mere money is fish-
ing where there has been no fish since the creation of
the world.
A poor man laughs oftener than a rich man. There
is more merriment in the homes of the poor than is
generally found in those of the rich; for with the
STOP THAT NOISE. 197
deep-seated and rankling anxiety, the wearying solici-
tude that often accompanies wealth, pressing on his
inmost soul, a man cannot be happy. The griping
screw, whose god is Mammon, fattens on the misery
of others, as the vulture on carrion; stalks up and
down like a commercial buzzard, tearing away the
substance of his victim. Can he be happy? Why,
the workings of his mercenary soul tell on his very
features; his extortion and usury harden his heart,
stain his soul, and diminish his happiness by lowering
the standard of self-respect. How mean men grow
by this love of money!
" I've been a member of this church twenty years,
and it has only cost me twenty-five cents!" said a
man in a social meeting ; when the minister said :
" The Lord have mercy on your poor little stingy
soul!"
I heard of one very noisy in prayer-meetings, and
who on one occasion, by his shouting "Amen ! " and
the like, disturbed the meeting so much that the leader
requested a brother to try and stop that noise. In a
moment the exclamations ceased.
" How did you succeed so quickly? "
" Oh, I just asked him for a dollar for foreign mis-
sions, and that stopped him."
Poor Lord Braco, rich in gold and silver, but poor
in all that constitutes true manliness, once picked up
a farthing. A beggar passing, asked his lordship to
give it to him, as it was so small a coin. The pos-
sessor of thousands of pounds sterling said, as he
carefully buttoned up his pocket, " Find a farthing
for yourself, you poor body ! "
A story is related of a certain celebrity, who inquir-
ing the price of hats, the storekeeper presented him
198 BURDEN OF DEBT.
with a valuable beaver, and asked his acceptance
of it.
"Ah, thank you, thank you very much. How
much should you ask for this hat? "
" Eight dollars."
"And you give it to me? Almost too good for me
to wear. What's the price of this one?"
" Oh, that's not a good hat. Only three dollars."
"And you say you give me this?"
" Yes, if you will accept it."
" Well now, suppose I take the three-dollar hat,
and you give me the five dollars, if it will be all the
same to you," which was actually done !
A gentleman once asked why a certain person did
not pull out the beam from his own eye. Foote re-
plied, " So he would, if he could sell the timber."
There are very few things in this world that will
destroy or mar a man's happiness more than the con-
sciousness of debt; very few things are heavier than
its burden. What an awful incubus is the dread of
duns ; to be afraid, in walking the streets, of meeting
a creditor ; to avoid one store after another, till nearly
all are closed to you ; to dread the arrival of the mail,
fearing a reminder of debt; to sneak about, with
furtive glances on either side! How the blood will
tingle at the curt question, " When will it be conven-
ient for you to settle that little bill?" It is always
a little bill, though it might take all you are worth to
pay it. Oh, the misery of being dunned ! Men have
been driven almost mad by it, I speak of sensitive
men, and most men are ashamed of it.
An eccentric clergyman obtained an enormous col-
lection by requesting that no one should contribute or
put anything on the plate who was in debt; so every
UNWORTHY AMBITION. 199
one contributed. But there is hardly any course that
will toughen a man in meanness more than the per-
sistent running in debt. Some men are constantly
planning to deceive a creditor; they will lie unblush-
ingly ; make promises with no intention of performing.
No genius can redeem a man from the unutterable
meanness of reckless debt. "While we may be amused
at the wit in dodging a creditor, we are shocked at
the heartlessness of the swindler. If one steals a
penny, he is a thief; but is he not a thief who will
" do " a creditor, shirk payment of an honest bill, or
act the part of a mean trickster? " There goes a
sculptor." "What do you mean?" "Only that he
chisels tailors, bootmakers,- and all who trust him."
How can a man strut about in unpaid-for garments,
and ride in unpaid-for carriages, and gather his friends
to admire unpaid-for furniture, or eat and drink at
another's expense, without an inward sense of per-
sonal degradation? It does degrade a man, so that
you can almost detect a shirking debtor.
In these days, a laborer on two dollars a day must
dress like the mechanic on four or five. The me-
chanic must dress like the tradesman with an income of
$5,000 a year. The tradesman must live like the mer-
chant with his $20,000; and the merchant must out-
strip his richer neighbor in equipages, furniture, and
entertainments; thus is the demon of debt invoked,
and so it goes on. Churches become ambitious of
rivalling or excelling their neighbors in superb archi-
tecture and gorgeous decorations, till, involved in
debt, their energies are paralyzed, the minister crip-
pled by the heavy outside load, the benevolences cur-
tailed, and the strength and power which, exercised
for God and humanity, might and would advance the
13
200 MORAL HEROISM.
best interests of the church, and the salvation of men,
are expended in devising ways and raising means to
lift the indebtedness incurred in mere display. Only
under certain circumstances does it pay for individ-
uals, societies, churches, communities, or nations to
incur the heavy load of debt.
The noblest work in which a human being can be
engaged is for others; for all true heroism is the
sacrifice of self for the good of others. It has noth-
ing to do with mere abilities. "We do not speak of
heroic talent, heroic genius, heroic intellectuality ; but
heroic daring, heroic sacrifice, heroic endurance.
There is a daring that is far from heroic. Blondin
was daring, but no hero; Sam Patch was daring, but
died like a fool, and was no hero. If capable of great
deeds, a man lives for himself, all he leaves is a spec-
tacle to wonder at, and not a benefit to enjoy. Some
of the greatest instances of moral heroism in which
the soul of man has asserted its Divine origin, may
never be known on earth. The influence has been
felt in the defeat of some legion of Satan's army,
some array of deadly vices or phalanx of wild pas-
sions; but the brave hearts which wrought the vic-
tory may never be known till they are called forward
to receive their crowns. How many real heroes pass
by unnoticed modest, quiet, unattractive, and unas-
suming; the gay avoid them, and pass them by with
a sneer. Only those who know them fully, honor and
love them. They would not particularly grace a
drawing-room; the thoughtless throng heeds them
not; to them they seem stained, marred. Why, my
fine gentleman, these marks and stains are honorable
scars, obtained in many a well-fought battle. They
have entered the conflict of life with brave, true
GLORIOUS VICTORIES. 201
hearts, and will be at last ranked among those who
"have overcome."
There are no victories more glorious than those
which are gained over self, those in which a strug-
gling soul becomes purified and ennobled by sacrifice
and suffering for the good of others. Ah, sir ! " you
may live in obscurity, and fight your battles noise-
lessly; no historian may record your name; no monu-
ment be erected to your memory; you may bear the
look of scorn and contempt, the world's sneers "
what of all that? A time is coming when the " intel-
ligent universe will adjudicate aright; " when the man
who masters an evil passion, battles a popular vice,
fights a ruinous error, will be deemed worthy of
higher praise than earth's greatest warrior. " The
marble monument will crumble into dust; the very
earth reel to and fro beneath the tread of the coming
Judge; all the roll of historic records be consumed
in the final conflagration; but the memory of the
moral hero will be imperishable."
He will live in the grateful memory of those whom
he has blessed, whose tears he has wiped away, whose
wants he has relieved, whose gloom he has dispelled,
and whose wandering feet he has brought into the
paths of peace. There, yes, " there shall his memorial
be reared, where the flames cannot reach, and where
the rocking of earth's last convulsions shall not be
felt."
CHAPTER XV.
KNOWLEDGE AND CURIOSITY. ABSURD BLUNDERS
AND LAUGHABLE MISTAKES.
What is Knowledge? Ignorance with a Library Wisdom is applied
Knowledge George Cruikshank the Simon Pure Blunders in
Spelling " Preshus Sole " Laughable Mistakes The Deacon
who thought he could preach Anecdote of Robert Hall Self-
knowledge and Physical Health Knowing Others "Brass" no
Test of Character Misjudging Others Knowledge through His-
tory Goodness Mental Cultivation and Moral Corruption In-
quisitiveness " Funnels of Conversation " How a Man lost his
Leg Anecdote of John Randolph Misapplied Labor Dinner
and Duel How to collect a Crowd Van Amburg's Lion Feats
of Legerdemain Sir Charles Napier and the Indian Juggler Ig-
norance and Superstition Whimsical Vagaries Senseless " Omens "
Sowing for the Harvest Immortality revealed De Quincey
upon the Present Faith a Necessity The Story of Poor Joe.
is so constituted that in acquir-
ing new truths, in the pursuit of
learning or the search for knowl-
edge, he finds enjoyment, a high
degree of happiness. Sir Wm. Ham-
ilton declares, with philosophic in-
sight: "It is ever the contest that
pleases us, not the victory. The hunter
derives more pleasure in the chase than
in the possession of the game." Malebranche de-
clared: " If I held' Truth captive in my hand, I should
open my hand and let it fly, in order that I might
again pursue and capture it." Lessing wrote: "Did
202
WISDOM AND KNOWLEDGE. 203
the Almighty, holding in his right hand truth, and
in his left search after truth, deign to tender me the
one I might prefer, in all humility, and without hesi-
tation, I should request search after truth."
" Truth," says Von Muller, " is the property of
God; the pursuit of truth is what belongs to men."
Jean Paul Blchter says : " It is not the goal, but the
course which makes us happy."
What is knowledge? is an important and yet diffi-
cult question to answer. It is not simply to gather
information, or to furnish ourselves with certain facts.
It is well to know all we can that is useful, and right
to avail ourselves of other men's labors and investiga-
tion. God has given to a comparative few favored
ones the intellect and ability to discover truths ; there-
fore it is lawful to gain, from the toils of others, gen-
eral information and knowledge.
Men seldom become proficient or eminent in any
one branch of science without personal investigation
and thought. He who would be an astronomer, a
natural historian, a geologist, a chemist, must himself
make researches. Then again, men may collect an
enormous library of books, and even read them, with-
out intelligent curiosity. You may teach one to re-
peat their contents; still his real knowledge may be
small. A parrot repeats wise words, but the bird is
not a whit the wiser. Wisdom is knowledge made
our own and properly applied. Knowledge and wis-
dom may have no connection. " Knowledge is proud
that it has learned so much ; wisdom is humble that
it knows no more."
An old writer has declared: " 'Tis the property of
all true knowledge to enlarge the soul by filling it, to
enlarge without swelling it, to make it more capable
204 ABSURD SPELLING.
and earnest to know, the more it knows." He who
has no ideas save those he borrows from other
people may possess knowledge, but is not wise. It
is possible for a man to learn, and not reason; to
remember, but never think. Let no one depreciate
true knowledge. Learn all you can, gain correct in-
formation from every source. For the want of real
wisdom men sometimes make whimsical blunders.
Some years ago the relative merits of George and
Robert Cruikshank were contrasted in an English
review, and George was spoken of as the real Simon
Pure. A German editor begins his memoir of Cruik-
shank by informing his readers that he is an artist
whose real name is Simon Pure; and in the index
we read: "Pure, Simon, the real name of George
Cruikshank."
Very absurd blunders are made by the lack of a
correct knowledge of orthography. I think the
spelling-matches of some years since, that were so
popular for a time, were very useful as well as enjoy-
able. How the beauty of a sentence may be marred,
or the force weakened, by incorrect spelling! A
young man told me that he was constantly receiving
letters from a friend who was very anxious about his
spiritual welfare. " But," said he, " they do me no
good, for I am sure to get to laughing over some
incorrect or absurd spelling. He will write, ' I send
you this letter, not to intrude my views on you, but
in the interest of your preshus sole.' r I often re-
ceive from secretaries of societies letters badly spelt,
as well as from ministers, and men and women who
ought to know better. One gentleman wrote that he
was sorry to trouble me with another letter, and he
hoped I would not consider him a " boar."
"ABSCESS FRICASSEED." 205
Some persons, through ignorance of the meaning
of certain words, make laughable mistakes. I have a
letter from a gentleman who desires me to reply by
my own hand, as he wishes to preserve the letter as a
" momentum ! " A lady writes : " My husband can-
not drink liquor without impunity." We are much
amused at the reported misuse of words by the colored
people, words that they do not understand. A
gentleman told me of once going into a " colored
church " very neatly frescoed, except behind the pul-
pit; here the wall had been taken down to form a
recess, and the plastering was left in a rough state.
The minister wished to say, " Brethren, we shall have
no more service here till we have raised by contribu-
tion sufficient money to fresco this recess;" but he
said, " Bredren, de gospel w T ill not be dispensed with
any mo' till we have took up a contradistribution
enuff to have dis yer abscess fricasseed! "
A very important branch of knowledge is self-
knowledge. "Know thyself" is a maxim too deep
for men in general. Men may toil through the in-
tricacies of complicated systems, and know all about
the characters of ancient heroes, and know but little
of their own. But every man of common capacity
may attain to this knowledge, if he will. He alone
may follow the " autobiography of his heart," and see,
as in a book, the indelible record of his life. WFiat
is my chief weakness? What is my predominant
propensity? What gives me the highest delight?
What are my prejudices against persons and things?
What is my temper? What are my motives? What
are my views of life? What is my faith? How few
can answer these questions! yet every one who sets
himself honestly to self-examination can answer; but
206 EPISTLE OF THE APOSTLE.
men in general do not want to know. Some of us
would be frightened if we searchingly asked ourselves
these questions.
A man would become an awful fact to himself by
thorough self-examination. A young man once said
to me:
" I do not think I am a sinner."
I asked him if he would be willing his mother or
sister should know all he had done, or said, or
thought, all his motives and all his desires. After
a moment he said:
"]S"o, indeed, I should not like to have them know;
no, not for the world."
" Then can you dare to say, in the presence of a holy
God, who knows every thought of your heart, * I do
not commit sin ' ? "
A knowledge of his characteristic weakness may
help a man in his conduct through life ; for, if guarded
against, it will become his strength. It is this want
of self-knowledge that leads men often into absurd
positions; like the deacon, who thought he could
preach, and teased the minister to let him try. He
went through the preliminary exercises very comfort-
ably, then took his text from one of the Epistles, and
began :
" These words were written by Paul the apostle.
Tltay were written to the church to whom they were
addressed. Paul, the apostle was an apostle
to the Epistle of the Gentiles that is the words
of the Epistle of the apostle Paul were words
that if you read, you will be impressed with
their importance. I have chosen for my text these
words of Paul who when in this apostle of
the Epistles hem hem. If anybody in this con-
SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 207
gregation thinks he can preach, let him come up here
and try it, for I can't."
A young man who had annoyed Robert Hall for
permission to preach, afterwards received a severe
rebuke upon asking Mr. Hall what he thought of his
sermon. Wearied by his pertinacity, Mr. Hall at
length told him that the sermon had done him a great
deal of good.
" Ah, I am delighted to think I could have said
anything to benefit you. What particular part af-
fected you most pleasantly?"
"Oh, all of it."
"Ah, indeed; in what way?"
" Why, last week I heard Dr. Mason preach, and I
thought I could never preach again; but after hear-
ing you, I think I can."
One important advantage of self-knowledge is, that
when a man fully realizes what he is as a man, his
wonderful and delicate organization, the complicated
and yet harmonious arrangement of his system, even
physiologically considered, he will more carefully
avoid all self-abuse by the indulgence of appetite or
passion. The knowledge that alcoholic drink is a
poison, disorders digestion, inflames the mucous mem-
brane, taints the springs of life at their source, im-
poverishes and depraves the blood, and deranges
almost every function of his body, so " fearfully and
wonderfully made," should suffice to induce every
man to abstain ; but when the realization comes that
he is a man, with soul, mind, spirit, that his body may
be the temple of the Holy Ghost, will he fill himself
with all pollution and defilement, and make himself a
child of hell, who might be an heir of heaven?
Another important branch of knowledge is to know
208 KNOWLEDGE OF OTHERS.
others; and this is more difficult, and yet the desire
for it is universal. Some men are so open and trans-
parent, they seem to carry their hearts in their hands ;
while others are reticent and reserved. How little we
really know even of the most intimate friend who
walks by our side, and with whom we are in commu-
nion ! How often we misjudge men mistake them !
I know of a man who exclaimed, on being told that a
friend of his belonged to the church, " Why, I have
known him intimately for some years, but I never
dreamed he was a Christian." Again you may say
of another, " he has not a vice," when it is possible
his whole composition is thoroughly vicious.
Bring two really honest men together, and each
misjudging the other through difference in temper
and manner, may prevent a recognition of their hon-
esty ; but bring two men together, both unprincipled,
perverted, and bad, and they will recognize each other
by instant sympathy. Men who pretend to be judges
of character are often deceived. We should not
always trust to appearances. " Oh, I do not like his
looks," is an expression often heard at first sight of a
man.
I heard a gentleman once say, "I never trust a man
who cannot look me right in the eye." That is not a
correct basis for judgment upon one's character.
There are some timid, diffident souls, who are easily
looked out of countenance, who cannot meet the stern
eye of a person who is trying them by their brass.
The very worst criminals can stare you out of coun-
tenance; and it is no criterion that the man who can
outstare you is the virtuous, truthful man, and the
diffident person whose eyes droop before your staring
gaze is the vicious and untruthful one. I believe we
HIDDEN NOBLENESS. 209
may sometimes judge a man more correctly by his
looks than by his words or actions, for professions
may be false, but the face is generally true ; and yet
he may not be able to endure stolidly an inquiring
stare. Some faces are so unmistakably rascally, it
needs no great penetration to decide the character.
It might be said of them, as was said to an individual
who complained "I don't feel myself to-day," "I
heartily wish you joy, for you must certainly be the
gainer by the change."
We are apt to misjudge others, and distrust them.
The world is bad enough, but we imagine men worse
than they are. Take an audience anywhere, and com-
posed as you will, and deliver to them a speech fall
of sordid, base, mean sentiments, and you will be
hissed; but utter sentiments honest, lofty, chivalric,
noble, and applause will follow. We find that, how-
ever men may live, there is an inherent sympathy
with what is noble. Many there are who walk through
life utterly unknown and unappreciated by their fel-
lows, "fine, sensitive natures, that encase themselves
in a second or outer life, unseemly, having no
beauty that they should be desired, and who will
never be known for what they are by those who look
only upon the outside. They live on, unprized, un-
cared for, until some one, skilled in the knowledge of
other men, discerns beneath the surface the real na-
ture of the man, and sees, hidden from other eyes,
God's glorious handiwork." I believe there are many
such walking side by side with us in the world, men
of whom we are not worthy, whose real beauty and
grandeur will never be fully known till, in eternity,
God uncovers His own image, and bids us see them
as they are.
210 OH, IT is GRAND!
There is a noble development of this desire for
knowledge when a man possesses the power to bring
before him in a living panorama the grand lessons of
history, mingling with the generations that are gone,
his heart glowing at the " songs of bards two thou-
sand years old," his nerves thrilling at the eloquence
of men who can never die, his spirit kindling with
"thoughts that have passed from soul to soul since
souls have been," sympathizing in the struggles of
nations battling to be free, joining them in their wel-
come to the light. He weeps at their griefs, rejoices
when they are glad; his heart is affected by the
" mighty utterances of humanity through the ages."
He trembles in agony to behold nations losing their
way, and groping in the darkness of despotism. He
takes a part in all the progress of the race as knowl-
edge opens to him a glorious world, and he " holds
converse with the mighty dead ; " or, " studying the
heavens on the shore of that limitless ocean, he sounds
the depths of the ether, gauges the visible universe,
counts the myriads of stars that people it, measures
their distances, unravels their most complicated move-
ments, reveals their dimensions, evolves order from
apparent confusion." Oh, it is grand! The crown
of knowledge is brighter than a monarch's diadem;
and yet a man with such a glorious heritage may not
be one whit more moral, religious, or, in the highest
sense, more useful. Why, knowledge itself, unless
wisely directed, will even make a bad man more dan-
gerous.
Knowledge, unless allied with goodness and wis-
dom and embodied in upright character, is naught.
It is not how much a man may know; but the end
and purpose for which he obtains knowledge is of the
OBJECT OF KNOWLEDGE. 211
greatest importance. The great object must be to
improve character, to make it better, more useful,
benevolent, energetic and efficient in the attainment
of high purposes. " One may be able to interpret the
eloquence of nature, and look out among the stars
with a feeling of exultation at the glories of the
heavens; yet if he scrutinizes the universe with self
only before his eyes, he lies buried in the earth alone
with all his burning thoughts. But when in devout-
ness of spirit he gazes into the heavens, he himself
becomes as nothing, as an atom of dust on the out-
skirts of a glory immeasurable." He perceives in
everything the Presence that fills immensity, and
crowds it with proofs of His power and wisdom.
Then the Author of this beauty and majesty becomes
the object of his desires, while in his self-abasement
he exclaims, " What is man, that Thou art mindful of
him ! " and learns to trust Him in His faithfulness to
all eternity, and finds that "the fear of the Lord is
the beginning of wisdom." " The pillar of cloud and
of fire which led the Israelites to safety drew the
Egyptians to destruction. One saw the hand of God,
the other but a phenomenon."
All the worldly knowledge a man can acquire will
not make him a good man, or prevent him from fall-
ing into grievous sin. We may find great mental
cultivation combined with moral corruption.
Knowledge is a trust, and brings with it a mighty
responsibility. Few more awful sights are seen than
a once cultivated intellect fallen, a mind that has
soared into the highest heaven of intellectual attain-
ment, that has shone forth like the sun in his glory,
and filled the world with its blessed beams, de-
graded and debased, a mind that might have been
212 WHAT'S THE NEWS?
like a Samson among its fellows, shorn of its strength,
and only brought forth at times to make sport for the
Philistines; like the eagle that might have risen to
the firmament and drank of the fountain of divine
light, fluttering, broken-winged and blinded, in the
dust; or, like the fallen angels, taking refuge in the
Gadarene swine from the presence of Him in whom
they ought to have delighted, the divine spark fled
from the human face, the soul gone, the beast every-
where grovelling in the thing that had once been man.
Hear him, with voice thick and husky, a cracked
laugh, talking rubbish and ribaldry, and in the midst
of balderdash gleaming now and then a gorgeous
sentence that drivels away again into a cadence
almost idiotic. It is one of the most awful sights of
earth.
The desire to know becomes paltry when it devel-
ops into mere inquisitiveness. Some one has defined
inquisitiveness as an " itch for prying into other peo-
ple's affairs, to the neglect of our own." The constant
and genuine food of some minds is news. They seem
to subsist entirely on this diet. " The news what's
the news? " Shakespeare says:
" With open mouth, swallowing a tailor's news."
"Ah, curiosity! the cause of all our ill;
And yet the plague that most torments us still."
Some men delight in asking questions about affairs
that are often not worth knowing; silence is torture
to them, and by continual application they become
masters of all kinds of queer histories; they never
miss anything for the want of asking. Such can tell
you of all the weddings that are to come off, and
when; of all the engagements that are broken off,
FUNNELS OP CONVERSATION. 213
and for what cause; whose property is mortgaged,
and for how much; who borrows money, and for what;
and who lends it, and on what terms. They know the
amount of everybody's income ; can inform you what
their neighbors eat, drink, wear, say, or do ; when they
sleep, walk, or ride ; they watch the post-man and the
butcher ; know how many letters, and how much meat
they have. They are fully acquainted with all domes-
tic squabbles, and pride themselves on having the
earliest information. To obtain this, they pass their
time keeping a watchful eye upon others, gathering
up chance remarks or inadvertent expressions, and
weave them into a web of history, asking little inno-
cent side questions, seemingly vague and unimpor-
tant, and then deducing conclusions by no means so
unimportant, until they become entangled and ensnared
in the cobwebs of petty inquisitiveness.
Such persons become the " funnels of conversation,
taking in nothing for their own use, but merely to
pass it to another. They are the channels through
which all that is spoken of others is conveyed; simply
funnels." How amusing it is to see one of these in-
"quisitive persons with a mystery! How he ponders
it, lies in wait for it, scents all around it, fixes on it
with a bull-dog tenacity, follows it with a persistence
worthy of a nobler object. He will concentrate on it
all the force of his will, fancying himself on the verge
of discovery; and after all this expenditure of time,
energy, and patience, becomes possessed of a piece of
news fresh news yes, fresh ; but, like the manna,
" food one day, stale and corrupt the next."
We have no sympathy for these merely inquisitive
ones in their disappointments, but rather laugh at
214 "IT WAS BIT OFF."
them. That is a good story of one conversing with
a very quiet person who had lost his leg.
" How did you lose it? When? Where?"
To all his questions, he received evasive replies,
until the itch to know how that leg was lost became
so intolerable, and his persistence was so annoying,
the gentleman said:
" If you will promise me on your word and honor
that you will not ask another question not one I
will tell you how I lost my leg."
"Agreed. Tell me."
" Not another question? "
" Not one more ; only tell me that."
" Well, my friend, it was bit off ! "
" Bit off ! Oh ah hum."
I do not condemn utterly the asking of unimportant
questions. Some men, for the sake of showing po-
liteness or attention to a stranger, may border on the
inquisitive, without being offensive, and may be very
much hurt by a rude reception of the questioning.
John Randolph stopped once at a hotel where the
landlord tried very hard to converse with him, but
without success. After he had paid his bill, and was
starting, the landlord said:
" Which way are you travelling, Mr. Randolph? "
"Sir?"
" I asked which way you was travelling? "
" Have I paid my bill? "
" Yes."
" Do I owe you anything more? "
"No."
" Then I am going just where I please ; do you un-
derstand? "
"Oh, yes!"
WHAT DID HE SAY? 215
But when he had gone a little way, he came to a
fork in tne road, and sent his servant to ask the way.
The landlord shouted out:
"Mr. Randolph, you don't owe me one cent; take
which way you choose ! "
There is often labor expended in obtaining informa-
tion that is not worth the time and toil. At a trial, a
lady witness was being questioned, when she stated a
fact:
" He took me by the shoulders, and pushed me from
the room."
"What did he say?"
" We do not want to know what he said," exclaimed
the opposing lawyer.
" Yes, we do," said the other.
"What did he say?"
" I object to the question ; it is not admissible ; "
and at it they went, arguing the case till night. The
court adjourned; and next day books were consulted
and arguments advanced, the court determined to
decide the point ; and after some consultation, and ex-
amining precedents, it was declared the question might
be admitted.
" Then what did he say? "
The court was in breathless attention and suspense
while the important question was asked, " What did
he say ? "
" Nothing at all."
Curiosity to know little things unimportant mat-
ters sometimes leads men into extravagance. An
American and a Frenchman were taking a meal to-
gether. The American ate so voraciously, that the
Frenchman said:
14
216 "BREAKFAST OK DINXAIKE?"
" Monsieur, s'il vous plait, is dat your breakfast or
your dinnaire vat you eat? "
No reply.
" Pardon, monsieur, vill you dell me, s'il vous plait,
is dat your breakfast or your dinnaire vat you eat? "
"Goto thunder!"
" Why you tell me go to thunder for ask you one
civil question? Ah, you are not gentleman! "
A quarrel ensued; a challenge given and accepted;
a duel fought; the American shot the Frenchman.
" Oh, I am very much kill! Oh, I shall die! Oh!
ah!"
" My dear fellow, I am very sorry. What can I do
for you? "
"Oh, monsieur, you can do great deal! Oh, ah!
vill you tell me vas dat your breakfast or your din-
naire vat you eat? "
The developments of the elements of curiosity are
almost illimitable. Some people seem to be possessed
of a desire almost amounting to a passion to see rare
things, or indeed anything bordering on the impos-
sible.
Advertise that some impossible feat is to be per-
formed and you will draw a crowd. In London a
notice appeared that in the course of an entertain-
ment a man would jump into a quart bottle, and sing
a comic song. The house was crowded, and because
the feat was not performed, which they knew was
impossible, they nearly destroyed the theatre. A
talking-fish a mermaid a monstrosity, will draw
crowds. A man went every night to see Van Am-
burgh put his head in the lion's mouth. When asked
why he went every night, he said he knew to a moral
certainty that the lion would bite that man's head off
DIFFICULT FEAT! 217
some time before he had done with him, and he wanted
to see it! If there were a certainty that Blondin
would fall from his tight rope, it would draw a larger
crowd than otherwise. Our curiosity is excited by
feats of legerdemain, or prestidigitation, and I must
confess I should like to know how some of them are
performed.
There are many feats wonderful as well as very
curious. When Sir Charles Napier was in India,
a juggler visited camp, and among other performances
cut in two with a stroke of his sword a lemon placed
in the hand of his assistant. Napier doubted the feat
and held out his hand for the experiment. The jug-
gler looked attentively at the hand, and refused.
Napier thought he had found him out and laughed
at him.
" Let me see your other hand," said the juggler.
The hand was submitted, and the man said:
" If you will hold it firmly I will perform the feat."
"Why the left hand and not the right?"
"Because the right hand is hollow in the centre,
and there is danger of cutting off the thumb; the left
is higher, and there is less risk."
Napier says if he had not laughed at him he should
have refused, but putting the lemon on his hand he
held out his arm. The juggler balanced himself, and
with a swift stroke cut the lemon in two pieces. Na-
pier said he felt the edge of the sword on his hand as
if a cold thread had been drawn across it.
The desire of knowing coming events is one of the
strongest inclinations in the minds of many. I think
it is Dr. Johnson who says, " The quality of looking
into futurity seems the unavoidable condition of a
being whose motions are gradual, and whose life is
218 WHIMSICAL VAGARIES.
progressive." We all are solicitous about events
which lie hidden. The mind is not satisfied with
objects immediately before it, but is always breaking
away from the present, filled with conjectures about
things not yet made real to us by outward existence,
and longing to penetrate into futurity. To this cause
is owing the success of astrologers, fortune-tellers,
prognosticators, wise people, seers, spiritual mediums,
biologists, and all pretenders to a knowledge of future
events; the consulting of oracles, the noting of signs,
omens, lucky days, and all the various arts of super-
stition.
It is a fact that the superstitious are generally igno-
rant. No head is a vacuum; some are circumscribed,
some are capacious, and the more room is taken up
with useful knowledge the less remains for credulity.
" The more a man is acquainted with real things, the
more willing he is to give up the ghost of things;" yet
after all, there is a vast amount of superstition among
us. The vagaries of some are very whimsical, and
would puzzle the antiquary to discover how they have
originated. What nonsense in examining the grounds
of a coffee-cup to learn of your future husband; put-
ting bride-cake under the pillow to dream of him
(you do not suppose any one believes such absurdi-
ties! I cannot tell, but why do they do it? I hardly
suppose that any young lady puts bride-cake under
her pillow without a glimmering hope that she may in
her dreams behold the coming man) ; throwing the
apple-paring over the head that it may fall in the
shape of the first letter of his name! How silly to
stir the fire expecting to read in its bright flames the
prophecy that you will have a bright husband !
Then note the multitudes of omens really believed
VARIETIES OF OMENS. 219
in by many ! If a hen crows it is a sign of bad luck.
If a spark flies out from the fire a stranger is coming.
If the cat turns her tail to the fire we are to have a
hard frost; if she sneezes, all in the family will have
colds. If you find a pin with the head turned to-
wards you it is a sign of good luck. Spilling salt, or
laying knives across each other are ill omens. I have
known persons to be really annoyed at either of these
occurrences. If the head itches it is a sign of rain ; if
the eyebrow itches you will see a stranger ; if the right
eye itches, you will cry ; if the left, you will laugh ; if
your nose itches you will shake hands with a fool; if
it is your right hand, you will pay money; if your left,
you will receive it; if it is your back, butter will be
cheap; if your side, somebody is wishing for you; if
your knee, you will kneel in a strange church ; and
if it is your foot, you will tread on strange ground.
These are, to be sure, vagaries and extravagances,
but it is curiosity that leads to them, curiosity to know
the future. What would you give to know whether
your speculation will be successful, and your marriage
happy ! Perhaps if I ask my reader the wish that is
with you most prominent, you would tell me, " To
know what is to come ; " yet you cannot. " Trace a
rainbow from the ocean, through the clouds, and back
again into the sea, and find it there, and then perhaps
you may be able to foretell what will happen in the
future."
Our thoughts can have no influence on the future,
but our acts will. What folly to be so absorbed in
the desire to know the future as to neglect the present,
dreaming out life, or worrying it away in vain conjec-
ture! Such men become unstable, always planning,
never executing; always commencing, never com-
220 SOWING AND REAPING.
pleting; always thinking, never acting; always pro-
posing, never performing; with life before them, and
its objects, pleasures, duties; but duties never fulfilled,
pleasures never tasted, objects never attained. In the
beginning, life seems a vast conception; at the end,
an unsatisfactory, miserable failure. Such men float
on the sea of life; they are boats without rudders,
tossed by every wave of passion, caprice, or impulse;
promising to do everything, doing nothing; within
sight of the land of peace and comfort, but never
touching its shores.
We can make our own future, we are making it
every day. It is a solemn fact, that " whatsoever a
man soweth, that shall he also reap." Sow corn, reap
corn; sow weeds, reap weeds: sow the corruptible,
reap the corruptible; sow the imperishable, reap the
imperishable.
The ruin of men is but the thickening of the har-
vest of which they have sowed the seed. They reap
the fruit of their own husbandry; the same grain the
sower scatters, the reaper collects. If the husbandry
of wickedness goes forward, there is a harvest of an-
guish to be gathered. We reach the summit of all
that is tremendous and awful in conception when we
consider a man consigned to the tyranny of a passion
never to be conquered, and never to be gratified.
Milton puts these words into the mouth of Satan:
" Which way I fly is hell ; myself am hell."
Sow envy, malice, revengefulness, covetousness,
drunkenness, sensuality, and we must eat of the fruit
of our way, and be filled with our own devices. What
hell ever preached can surpass this ? !NTo need of fire,
or rack I Who can imagine the agony of such a poor,
IMMORTALITY IS REVEALED. 221
torn, tossed creature, who has endowed every unholy
passion with sovereignty, ploughed iniquity, and sown
wickedness, only to reap the same. If we would
make our future peaceful, let us sow righteousness,
and reap life everlasting. " He that is unjust, let him
be unjust still; and he that is filth} 7 , let him be filthy
still; and he that is holy, let him be holy still."
But to know what shall be! here curiositv is
tt
blocked, and we rest on faith. The future is known
to God alone, and we can know no more than he has
revealed, and that we receive by faith, faith that
amounts to certainty, because He has said it. We
believe in "a life which after myriads of ages will be
still new, and still beginning." Immortality is re-
vealed to us, and we receive it as an absolute cer-
tainty; but the character of that unending existence
depends upon ourselves, for God has said, " He who
sows to the flesh, shall of the flesh reap corruption;
and he who sows to the spirit, shall of the spirit reap
life everlasting." Our knowledge relates chiefly to
the present, and what is that? We talk of the flight
of time, but how limited is the space in which we can
say u Now " ? We do not comprehend how small
that space is.
De Quincey, in one of his essays, presents this
thought very vividly: " How narrow, how incalculably
narrow, is the true and actual present! Of that time
which we call the present, how small a part but be-
longs either to a past which has fled, or to a future
which is still on the wing. It has perished, or it is
not born. It was, or it is not. The true and very
present in which only we live and enjoy, offers less
capacity for our footing than the slenderest film that
ever spider twisted from her womb. All is finite in
222 POOH JOE.
the present, and even that finite is infinite in its ve-
locity of flight towards death."
I quote the language of another writer : " All our
ideas concerning a futurity of living, thinking, acting,
are phantoms seen in the dark without revelation.
There is nothing possible in the trackless future, but
by faith. Faith is a necessity. By faith, we learn all
things pertaining to the ways of the Almighty. By
knowledge, we learn His works; by faith, we learn
His ways in the life that now is, and that which is to
come. Is not faith of more importance than knowl-
edge? A man may know all mysteries, may under-
stand all languages, may weigh the stars, may be
profound in all sciences, filled with all the knowledge
of the schools, yet as he stands on the confines of his
life, with the consciousness of immortality, if he sees
no star of hope to guide him, all is uncertainty and
doubt. He stretches out his hand and grasps the
darkness, his soul fluttering in the weakened body
that fain would hold it, passes away into an eternity
of which he knows nothing, and dreads everything.
How poor he is ! how miserably poor ! "
Another, whose faith in God is the governing and
actuating power of his whole being, knowing nothing
of the learning of the schools, may talk but stammer-
ingly one language, yet standing on the verge of
eternity can say, " I know whom I have believed. I
shall be satisfied when I awake in thy likeness." How
incomparably rich is he ! "
Poor Joe could neither read nor write; he under-
stood no doctrine but the one simple truth of the
Gospel. Lying on his hard bed, he could say, " Joe
only knows one thing: Jesus Christ came to save
sinners. Joe is a sinner. Jesus Christ came to save
"I AM JOE." 223
him. Joe believe it, that's enough. Joe love Jesus
Christ."
Some years ago, in Allen Street Church, New York,
I related the little history of Joe, as I heard my mother
tell it; and a man, rather shabby, and with the evi-
dent signs of dissipation, stood up in the audience,
and cried out: "I am Joe, and I am a sinner; and if
Jesus Christ came to save sinners, I want him to save
me."
Many Christian people that evening took him by
the hand, and encouraged him. A long time after
that, a man and his wife came to me. They were well
dressed, and respectable. The man said, " Have you
forgotten me? I'm Joe. Don't you remember, at
Allen Street, Joe stood up, and said he was a sinner?
Well, I am Joe, and this is my wife, and we are try-
ing to serve Jesus Christ. I was a swearer and a
drunkard, but now I am sober, and I love Jesus
Christ; and I and my wife wanted to speak to you,
and let you know that Joe meant what he said that
night in Allen Street Church."
I occasionally hear of Joe and his wife as a couple
united in one purpose to serve the Lord Christ, and
who have persuaded others to walk in the same
path.
Then give me faith, the ground of a settled hope,
without knowledge, rather than all the learning of
earth without faith; so that when the shadows of
death fall on my eyelids, I may compose myself to
sleep with the certainty of a coming morning, and a
glory above the clouds, as undoubtedly as I close my
weary eyes to sleep to-night with the assurance of a
sunrise to-morrow.
Then let me say especially to the young, in the
224 WISDOM AND UNDERSTANDING.
words of the wise man, " With all thy getting, get
understanding. Wisdom is the principal thing; there-
fore, get wisdom; exalt her, and she shall promote
thee; she shall bring thee to honor; she shall give to
thine head an ornament of grace; a crown of glory
shall she be to thee." Job tells us in his parable : " It
cannot be gotten with gold; the topaz of Ethiopia
shall not equal it; the price of it is above rubies; it
shall not be valued with the gold of Ophir, with the
precious onyx, or the sapphire. Whence, then, is wis-
dom? God understandeth the way thereof. He know-
eth the place thereof. When He made a decree for
the rain, and a way for the lightning of the thunder,
then did He see it, and declare it. He prepared it, and
stretched it out." "And unto man He said, Behold the
fear of the Lord, that is wisdom; and to depart from
evil, is understanding."
CHAPTER XVI.
COMEDIES. THE HUMOROUS SIDE OF LIFE.
The Art of Putting Things Illustrative Anecdotes Macklin at the
Theatre The Smoker on a Coach Mr. Parker's Preaching Man-
aging Others The Scolding Schoolmaster The Inhuman Teacher
Appeals to Honor better than Brutality The Model Principal
The College President's Lecture on Spontaneous Combustion The
College President guarding his New Roost The Midnight Ride
Acknowledgment of Errors Bonnie Christie Matter-of-fact Peo-
ple "Six-penny Caliker" No Devils ever cast out of a Man
The Quaker's Answer The Physician and the Stone Mason A
Digression, but not an Argument Henderson the Actor Differ-
ence between Settling down and Settling up Wit of Dr. Snmuel
Cox The Conceited Count Practical Jokes My Sacramento Ac-
quaintance.
T'S not so much what he says, but how
he says it." " It's not so much what he
does, but how he does it," are remarks
constantly heard. Some one has written
an essay on the " Art of Putting Things."
How many quarrels might be avoided, if
we could learn the art of rebuking with
courtesy and tact! Macklin, when a man
stood before him and his friend at the
theatre, completely shutting out all view of the stage,
might have asked him to sit down, or with his cane
struck him in the back, and probably given offence;
but he simply said, " I beg your pardon, sir; but when
you see or hear anything particularly interesting on
225
226 THE PIPE PUT OUT.
the stage, will you please let us know, as we are en-
tirely dependent on your kindness." That was suffi-
cient. "With a smile, and an apology that could hardly
have been extracted by rudeness, the gentleman took
his seat.
A man seated between two gentlemen on the out-
side of a coach, was smoking incessantly, when one
of the gentlemen, nearly strangled, said, " Please, sir,
would you have any objection to smoke in that other
gentleman's face a little while?" The pipe was im-
mediately, and with perfect good-humor, put out.
I was once visiting a lady, who told me that her
son came home from church one Sunday, and said:
"Mother, I do not like Mr. Parker's preaching; and
I do not intend to hear him any more."
To all her persuasions, for she feared if he re-
frained to go with her to church, he would go nowhere
else, his reply was, " I do not like his preaching;
he does me no good; and I shall go somewhere
else."
Soon he dropped into the habit of staying away
from church a whole or half a day; troubling her,
because of the irregularity of his church attendance.
One day, Edward met Mr. Parker in the street.
"How do you do, Ed?"
"How do you do, Mr. Parker?^'
"Been out of town lately, Ed?"
" ]S"o, I've not been away."
"Ah! I've not seen you in church lately."
" Why, do you know whether I come to church or
not?"
"Oh, yes; I have missed you for some Sundays
past. Do you not go to church at all?"
" Not much."
"PARKEK IS A BRICK." 227
"Why?"
" Well, Mr. Parker, I do not like your preaching."
" No more do I, Ed. You cannot have a poorer
opinion than I have of my preaching; and if you can
tell me how I can preach better, I shall be obliged to
you. I do not blame you for not liking my preach-
ing; I wish you could help me to preach better. I do
not ask you to hear me ; but do not stay away from
church because you do not like me. Go and hear
Mr. , he's a good preacher; or Dr. , he's a
much better preacher than I am. Go and hear some-
body; do not leave the church altogether. Good-bye,
Ed, my dear fellow."
He went home, and his first words upon coming
into the house were:
" Mother, Mr. Parker is a brick, and I'll go and
hear him, like or no like, just as long as he and I stay
in the city." And from that time he has been a
regular attendant, and he and Mr. Parker are fast
friends.
How few possess the faculty of managing others!
How rare is the ability of ruling or controlling others !
Yet some possess that ability in a large degree. There
have been teachers who, by too much governmental
discipline, have embittered their scholars for life;
while others, who have been the strictest disciplina-
rians, have gained the love and respect of all whom
they have taught. I have but little experience of
schools, but remember one which I attended whose
master one of those uncertain rnen of whom you
are never sure ruled according to his feelings. If
his breakfast disagreed with him, woe to the boys !
If his wife had been cross, and perchance had scolded
him, and that was not seldom, for he was the meek-
228 HOW WE HATED HIM I
est of the meek at home, then he would emphasize
his troubles upon the boys. How we suffered when
he had dyspepsia! Scarcely any in the school but
hated him, and yet he was successful in teaching,
after a fashion. His was one of those independent
schools of fifty years ago in England, when the master
was supported solely by the charge to each scholar.
" Full well the busy whisper circling round
Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned,"
would apply most emphatically to nearly every morn-
ing;
" Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee
At all Ins jokes, for many a joke had he,"
would not apply at all. When he came into the
school-room, every boy's head was bent to the desk
after one glance at the dial of his face, which told the
state of the thermometer. Suddenly a ruler would
whirl through the air, aimed at some luckless boy;
perhaps it hit him.
" Robert, bring that ruler to me 1 "
The boy walked up to the desk.
"Hold out your hand! "
And the palm soon tingled and was stung with
half a dozen blows, as if fire had touched it. What
for? Oh, that was a small matter: perhaps the boy's
head was not posed to suit the master. I have stood
on a bench with a heavy book in my hand, compelled
to hold it at arm's length till the sweat of pain would
stand in beads on my forehead, and every nerve, from
the finger-tips to the hips and down to the very toes,
was throbbing with pain ; and that for a trifling mis-
demeanor. Oh, how we hated him! There were
such masters years ago; thank God, the race is ex-
tinguished !
"WHO MADE THAT NOISE?" 229
A gentleman said to me, " I have the most ago-
nizing pain in my head almost constantly. I have
many a sleepless night tossing with pain. What is
the cause? Schoolmaster. Yes, my schoolmaster
would strike me on the head with his hand, and some-
times with a heavy book, and the result is these ter-
rible headaches; and sometimes, when I am suffering
so keenly, I almost curse the man that by his brutality
has caused me so much suffering."
I do not believe in coddling boys, or remitting all
punishment, nor in relaxing the strict government;
but I believe boys can be governed by appeals to their
honor rather than by brutality; and if punishment is
needed, let the infliction be in proportion to the
offence.
I was struck with the methods pursued in a large
school, one of the best, for boys, in a neighboring
State. The principal entertained me for a few days.
There was no flogging, no spying, no talebearing.
There was subordination and an easy compliance
with rules. Every delinquent reported himself. It
needed some patience and skill and persistence to
bring the scholars to this point. For instance, if the
principal was disturbed by a great noise in one of
the dormitories occupied by a dozen or more boys, he
would go up to the room at once, and probably all
would be still, every boy in his bed, some feigning
sleep.
" Who made that noise? "
No reply.
"I ask, who made that noise?"
No reply.
The question was slowly repeated.
No answer.
230 HAYSTACK BURNT.
" Young gentlemen, please dress yourselves, and
come down to the recitation-room."
When they were gathered there, he would address
them, telling them how mean it was that the guilty
should permit the innocent to be punished for their
fault; and dilating on the cowardice that would com-
mit a fault and permit others to suffer the conse-
quences, he would ask the young gentleman who
originated the noise, or if there were more than one,
to acknowledge it, and receive the punishment; that
he should consider the whole class in disgrace until
the culprit or culprits confessed. This experiment
was generally successful, and he had but very little
difficulty in ascertaining the cause of any breach of
the rules.
The president of a college, whom I knew as a dear
friend for many years, possessed a wonderful faculty
for governing and detecting a culprit. On one occa-
sion a good-sized haystack was burnt, evidently set
on fire. Who did it? That was a mystery. Some
one connected with the college, no doubt; but who?
No remarks were made about it except those that
were perfectly natural. A week or more after, the
president announced that he would give an extra
lecture on chemistry to the whole college of students.
In the course of his lecture, the hall being crowded,
he spoke of spontaneous combustion, and proceeded
to explain scientifically the causes of spontaneous
combustion; and with a glance of his keen eye flash-
ing in every corner of the room, he alluded to the
haystack as a very good instance of the efiect of such
a combination as he had described. In that one
glance he detected the unconscious half-smile on one,
and the almost imperceptible wink on another, and
"i GUESS THAT'LL DO." 231
the involuntary change of countenance, or the fur-
tive look on a third; and quietly finishing his lect-
ure, he requested certain gentlemen to come to him
in his study; to find, on asking them on their honor,
that his ingenious plan, aided by his keen perception,
had brought him to the correct conclusions.
Another story is told of a college president who
suspected that some of the boys had planned to rob
his hen-roost. Near the inclosure were two large
apple-trees at the back of the house; so he quietly
went out and waited till they came. Of the two, one
ascended the tree, the other remained below. When
they were ready to commence operations, the doctor
made a slight noise, and the one below started off
with an exclamation of surprise. The one in the
tree asked in a whisper:
"What's the matter?"
To which the doctor replied, also in a whisper:
"All's right."
" Here, catch hold," said the upper one, handing
down a rooster. " Here's old Prex."
And, handing down a hen:
" Here's Mrs. Prex."
"And here," handing down a chicken, " here's Miss
Prex. I guess that '11 do."
The doctor quietly got over the fence with the
fowls, and went to his house.
The poor robber of the hen-roost descended to find
his companion gone. What they said when they met
will probably never be known; but in the morning
the two young gentlemen received a polite invitation
to dine with the president, an honor they could not
very well decline. Possibly they were embarrassed
when, seated at the table, they saw three fowls roasted
15
232 A NIGHT RIDE.
for the dinner; and we can imagine their sensations
when the doctor said:
" Now, young gentlemen, will you have a piece of
1 old Prex, Mrs. Prex, or Miss Prex '? "
How the dinner passed off, and how the young
delinquents got off, deponent sayeth not. On that
theme history is dumb; but nothing more was heard
of the escapade, the doctor thinking that the morti-
fication was sufficient punishment.
A very good story is told of the head of one of
our celebrated institutions, who was the possessor of
a very clumsy, old-fashioned vehicle, to which he was
very partial, and which he constantly used in riding
through the streets of the town to the disgust of most
of the students. A plan was formed among some of
the boys that on a certain night they would remove
this offensive vehicle from the coach-house to a wood
about half a mile from the college. Their intention
was to run the carriage into the thickest of the woods
and underbrush, and leave it there. But the princi-
pal by some means learned or suspected their inten-
tion. Accordingly, in the evening, he quietly went
out to the coach-house, and, well wrapped up, crouched
in a corner of the carriage, and waited. Soon the
boys came, very stealthily, and, without looking into
the vehicle, began their operations very quietly; and
in whispers, and with many a " hush," and " take
care," and "look out," they succeeded in getting it
out of the house and yard, and into the road.
There they were all right, but they were puzzled to
find the thing so heavy to haul ; and amid grumblings
and puffings and pantings, varied occasionally with
a strong expression of disgust, they succeeded in
reaching the woods, the principal listening to then:
A SHARP LESSOR. 233
complaints and rather enjoying the situation. Hav-
ing with some difficulty backed the carriage into the
brush, they began to congratulate each other on the
success of their manoeuvre. The old gentleman, let-
ting down the window, to their utter surprise and
alarm, very quietly said:
" ]^ow, young gentlemen, just take me back very
carefully, if you please."
It was rather a sharp lesson, but better than to dis-
grace a set of young men for a comparatively harm-
less joke.
Sometimes it is very hard to learn how to acknowl-
edge an error. There are those who cannot under-
stand that there is something manly and worthy of
their dignity in acknowledging a mistake, or owning
their ignorance.
When a lady asked Dr. Johnson how he came to
commit a palpable blunder in his dictionary, he replied,
" Ignorance, pure ignorance."
For a schoolmaster, or one in authority, it seems
specially hard to confess to an error, and yet such
a confession often raises him in the estimation of his
subordinates, and binds him to them with stronger
cords of affection and respect. I once read some-
where a very interesting narrative of such an experi-
ence by school and schoolmaster, illustrating this and
also the beauty and nobleness of character and truth.
Two boys were 4n a schoolroom together, when
some fireworks were suddenly exploded. When the
master questioned them, one boy at once denied it;
the other, Bonnie Christie, would neither admit, nor
deny it, and without further questioning he was se-
verely flogged. When the boys were alone again, he
who had escaped, said:
234 BONNIE CHRISTIE.
"Bonnie, why did you not deny it?"
" Because there were only we two in the room, and
one of us must have lied."
" Then why not say I did it? "
" Because you said you did not, and I pity a liar,
and will never tell of him."
When school resumed, the boy marched up to the
master's desk, and said:
"'Please, sir, I can't bear to be a liar; I let off the
crackers," and then burst into tears.
After a moment's pause the master, hand in hand
with the culprit, before the whole school, walked down
to where young Christie sat.
" Bonnie Christie, lad," said the master, " he and I
have come to beg your pardon; we were both to
blame."
The school was so hushed they might have heard
Bonnie's big-boy tear-drops fall on his copy-book, as
looking up with the tears on his cheek, such tears
as the severest flogging would never have forced
from his eyes, he gently said, " Master, forever," and
the glorious shout of the scholars made the rafters
ring as the master's eyes grew dim with tears.
A good-tempered retort often accomplishes more
than a long argument, in defeating an adversary. It
requires tact and self-possession, with a quick appre-
hension to hold your own in an encounter of wit; but
on the dull and literal it is almost impossible to make
any impression. In such a case the wit must be
heavy and blunt, or an explanation would be required
of yon. I have met the obtuse and literal, and been
amused at their utter inability to understand a joke;
they take you as you say, not as you mean. Narrate
to them some extravagant American story or jest;
"SIXTEN3STY CALIKER." 235
tell them of a man running round in a circle so fast
that he could see his own back, and they will begin to
argue the point and discuss the possibility, or impos-
sibility, of such an operation.
We often find among the common people in this
country, especially in New England, a class with
whom it would be dangerous to perpetrate a practical
joke; and woe betide if they suspect you are fooling
them or dealing by them unfairly.
A lady told me that her brother, who kept a dry-
goods store, was rather glib in his talk, and inclined
to be somewhat flippant to his customers. An old
woman came to his store and said:
" I want to get some sixpenny caliker."
" Sixpenny, marm ! Better not take a sixpenny
calico; take a ninepenny. Sixpenny calico won't
wash; a ninepenny calico will. A sixpenny calico is
sleazy ; a ninepenny calico is firm. Take a ninepenny
calico, and you'll be glad you didn't take a sixpenny;
take a sixpenny, and you'll be sorry you didn't take a
ninepenny. Let me measure you oif the ninepenny;
it is heavier, will last longer, is cheaper in the end.
Don't take a sixpenny, when only threepence more
will give you a dress worth double. What do you
say, a ninepenny? "
The old woman stood perfectly still till he paused,
and then said:
"A sixpenny caliker is good enough for a poor
worm like me."
" Worm ! worm, marm ! don't call yourself a worm.
I don't like to hear people call themselves worms.
We are not worms ; we are men and women. Worms
indeed! I'm not a worm; you're not a w r orm. I'll tell
236 "THEY'VE GOT 'EM YET."
you what we are made of: water, gas, lime ; " and he
went on with other items.
The old woman simply said:
"Law! is that so? Then I reckon the biggest
part of you is gas. Now I'll take ten yards of six-
penny caliker."
A bantering acquaintance of the other sex remarked
to a woman:
" I never heard of seven devils being cast out of a
," was the reply; " they've got 'em yet."
A Quaker, in giving evidence before a Board of
Excise in England, and being rudely treated, was
rather pompously asked:
" Do you know what we sit here for?"
" Yes : one of thee for a thousand pounds a year,
and the other for seventeen hundred."
A physician passing a stonemason's shop, bawled
out:
" Good-morning, Mr. D. Hard at work, I see.
You finish your gravestones as far as 'In the memory
of,' and then wait, I suppose, to see who wants a
monument next? "
"Waal, yes," replied the old man; "unless some-
body's sick, and you're doctoring him, and then I
keep right on."
An architect was asked in a slighting tone:
"You are a builder, are you not?"
" No, sir; I am an architect."
"Ah well, they are much the same, I believe."
" I beg your pardon, sir ; they are totally different."
" Perhaps you can state wherein this great differ-
ence consists."
"Yes, sir. An architect is the mind; the builder
"TICKET, PLEASE." 237
is the machine; the architect is the power that puts
the machine together and sets it going."
" Very well ; perhaps you can inform me w r ho was
architect to the tower of Babel? "
" There was no architect, sir, and hence the con-
fusion."
These are good; but rather the neatest I ever read
was one by Henderson, the actor, who was seldom
known to be in a passion. When at Oxford lie was
once debating with a fellow-student, who, not keeping
his temper, threw a glass of wine in the actor's face.
Mr. Henderson took out his handkerchief, wiped his
face, and coolly said, " That, sir, is a digression ; now
for the argument."
A man whose business transactions had been rather
suspicious, and who had passed through bankruptcy
twice, was boasting:
" I left business, and settled down with a comfort-
able fortune," when a listener said:
" If you had settled up, you wouldn't have had a
cent."
A very self-important young man came to the turn-
stile at the railway station.
" Ticket, please," said the porter.
"Ah, my face is my ticket," was the reply.
"All right," said the porter; "my orders are to
punch every ticket before I let it pass."
I once heard a very neat rebuke from Rev. Dr.
Samuel Cox to a company of men, who understood
it fully, and on whom anything keen or witty would
have been lost. I was travelling on the Erie Rail-
way. At Elmira three colored persons, mulattoes,
took passage. They were very neat, genteel, quite
good-looking, and well-behaved, two women and a
238 "WELL DONE, MADAM."
man, who quietly took their seats near the door.
Just before me sat four men, with their seat turned
over. They were filthy and offensive, their language
profane. They were drinking whisky and eating on-
ions and cheese, leaving the odor of the car far from
being agreeable; in fact, they were as repulsive as
men could well be, and be permitted to remain in the
car. There had been some audible grumbling at their
coarse language.
The train -boy came into the car with water, and
asked one of these colored ladies if she wished some.
She, with a smile, said, " Thank you," reaching out
her hand to take the glass, when one of these dirty,
blear-eyed, half-drunken creatures roared out, with an
oath, " They're giving a d d nigger water ! " The
girl turned her face towards the wretch, and said, in
a very sweet voice, "Perhaps this gentleman wants
some water; you had better pass it to him before you
offer it to colored people." The deep pathos of her
tone moved us all. Dr. Cox, who was sitting near
me, and with whom I' had been conversing, said, " That
is well done, madam ; thank you ! " One of the men
started up, and glaring at the doctor, said, " Old man,
mind your business, or I'll take care of you." Dr.
Cox said, in that clear, bell-like voice that so many
remember, " Sir, if you would take care of yourself,
and live as cleanly as I have all my life, if you live
to be as old as I am, you may be as good-looking an
old man as I am."
The contrast between the gray-haired, fresh-looking
gentleman with the clear eye, the fine complexion, and
the pure, sweet expression, and the bleared eye, the
bloated face, the sensual mouth, the coarse skin of the
brutal fellow who had dissolved his manliness in
SMOKING IN THE CAES. 239
drink, was so striking, that every one in the car
seemed to be touched; and there followed a round of
applause from hands and feet for a minute, to the
utter discomfiture of the four ruffians, who were very
quiet, and soon after left for the smoking-car. I
thoroughly enjoyed this scene, as I always do the ex-
tinguishment of the impudent and overbearing.
It may sometimes be necessary to teach some men
good manners by a little rougher treatment. On one
occasion, while travelling, I saw a gentlemanly-look-
ing man enter the car. I heard afterwards that he
called himself " a Count," but he proved to be of very
small account, who illustrated the fact that looks
are sometimes deceitful, and that a man may be very
well dressed, and what the world calls genteel, and be
but a slight remove from a blackguard. This person
took a seat directly before a young lady, evidently
travelling alone. After a while, he took out of a mo-
rocco case a very beautifully-carved meerschaum pipe,
then a small bag of tobacco. He filled the pipe,
lighted it with a fusee, and opening the window,
began to smoke.
Soon the lady said, " I beg your pardon, but the
open window drives the smoke in my face, and I do
not like tobacco smoke ; " to which appeal he only re-
plied by a shrug of the shoulders, and a long-drawn
"Ah-h-h," and went on smoking. The lady again
said, " I assure you, sir, that the smoke is very annoy-
ing to me ; and gentlemen are not allowed to smoke
in this car." The fellow said, in a drawling tone, " If
you don't like the smoke, you can take another seat,
can't you?" A gentleman rose, reminding me very
much of the late Judge McLean, and walking up to
the smoker, said, very sternly, "Put that pipe out
240 PRACTICAL JOKES.
instantly." The reply was, "You mind your busi-
ness." The gentleman said "I will; this is every
gentleman's business," and suddenly snatched the pipe
from the man's mouth, and threw it out of the open
window, and then remarked, " You may resent that,
if you please." Perhaps it would have been as well
to call for the conductor, but by the applause that
greeted him when he took his seat, the passengers
evidently thought the punishment was just. The
smoker seemed of less account than ever, and looked
like a figure 9 with the tail cut off.
I enjoy a joke, but practical jokes so called
though often exhibiting some ingenuity, and calling
out our laughter at their absurdity are one-sided,
and the fun is generally for the perpetrator, and the
misery and mortification for the victim. There is too
often a vein of heartlessness, if not of cruelty, run-
ning through the whole transaction, and the life-long
sufferers from a practical joke are not a few. I like
fun without malice or heartlessness ; and a sharp and
well-deserved lesson may be taught by a joke. A
man, in spite, once chalked the word " scoundrel " on
a neighbor's door. The next morning, the neighbor
called. The man was out; so he left his compliments
with the servant, stating that he had returned the
call, as her master had left his name at the door.
When in Sacramento, I met the man who, when a
boy, was the cause of my losing a good situation by
an attempt to retaliate on him a practical joke he had
played on me. I was working at my bench, and a
tub of paste was by my side with brushes in it for
use, when he took one of these brushes, heavily loaded
with paste, and holding it near my face, said, " John ! "
I turned quickly, and got the paste on my face and in
ANYTHING BUT A JOKE. 241
my hair. I was thoroughly vexed. He ran down the
stairs. I took a sheet of paper, and putting perhaps
a pint of paste on it, and holding it on the palm of
my hand, waited at the door till he should come. I
determined to wait there all day, or until I should
catch him, as I knew that he must come back, and by
that door. So there I stood, biding my opportunity,
when I heard him, as I thought, stealthily creeping up
the stairs. "Now," I thought, "my boy, you shall
have it," and braced myself for the deed. I was ex-
cited at the thought of paying him in his own coin,
when the door opened, and with all my might I dabbed
the whole mass upon his face. Oh, horror! it was the
boss of the shop ! Never shall I forget how he looked,
or how I felt. The joke was anything but a joke, for
in a short time I was dismissed from my employment.
There I learned that practical jokes, especially hi
cases of mistaken identity, are often expensive.
CHAPTER XYIL
VICTIMS OF DRINK. SCENES FKOM LIFE.
Beer as a Beverage Beer Drunkenness among Women Great Brit-
ain's Curse " Doctored" Beer The Inside of a London Gin-Palace
What is "All Sorts?" Kinahan's L. L. The Landlord The
Bar- Maid The Customers Life in the Bar-Room Disgraceful
Scenes " Fair Play " What the " London Times " says A " Gen-
teel" Gin-Palace Rev. Wm. Arnot on the Liquor Traffic The
Fratricide A Hardened Woman The Gambler's Suicide A Hor-
rible Sight Suicide of McConnell The Blood-Stains on the Floor
The Meanest Man in the World The Rumseller's Bargain Result
of the Trade Dr. Guthrie's Testimony That of Canon Farrar
"Fruits of the Traffic" A Ghastly Story of the Prisoner at Dart-
mouth The Convict's Story Rum and Murder Remorse Wait-
ing for Death.
HERE is in this country a growing
tendency toward the commendation of
beer as a beverage. This fallacy is
built upon the misapprehension that
drunkenness is caused altogether by
spirituous liquors. The greatest harm
from the use of beer is in its soporific
effects, stupefying the drinker if he im-
bibes largely; consequently, the consump-
tion of beer is alarmingly on the increase. If this
tendency caused a diminution in the consumption of
spirituous liquors, we should be not so much troubled.
It is an acknowledged fact that the drunkenness of
242
EVERYBODY IS DRUNK. 243
England is mainly produced by beer. It is a fallacy
to say that if we can induce men to drink beer instead
of spirits, there will be less intemperance. The Eng-
lish Beer Act of 1830 was passed on this false theory,
when it was received with almost universal acclamation.
This measure was designed to supply what Lord
Brougham called a " moral species of beverage," in-
stead of immoral gin and rum, and was to prove an
inestimable blessing to the British workingman, by
giving him free access to this cheap and " wholesome "
beverage. The express purpose of the act was to en-
courage the consumption of beer, and discourage that
of spirits. "What was the result? Sydney Smith has
given the whole story in a nut-shell : " The new Beer
Bill has began its operations. Everybody is drunk.
Those who are not singing are sprawling. The sov-
ereign people are in a beastly state." The scheme
was a bitter disappointment to its friends. While the
distillation of spirits has not decreased, beer-makers
have become a power ; and I believe there is no single
power in Great Britain which so influences British
character, and so sways the material and moral des-
tinies of the British people, as the influence that sits
enthroned on the beer butts of the brewers.
That " beer is the curse of Great Britain " is not
my sentiment alone, but that of thousands who feel
its truth in the growing demoralization of the people
from its effects, and who are protesting against it.
The drunkenness of England is something frightful.
The first expression of surprise from an American or
foreigner landing on the shores of Great Britain, is
at the vast number of public-houses so well patron-
ized, and at the proportion of women who frequent
244 LONDON DRUNKENNESS.
them.* The subject is overwhelming. With my voice
I can speak, but on paper words fail me. By day I
have walked in the brilliant metropolis, and the key-
note in every street was drink. At night alone, or in
the viler quarters, accompanied by a detective, I have
peered into the slums, and there beheld sights of orgy
which compel me to believe that drunkenness in Eng-
land among a section of the " lower classes " is more
prevalent now than it was twenty years ago. I have
stated the same impression in one of the London
periodicals. This evident increase of intemperance,
I believe, has startled a multitude of conscientious
men and women to action in this matter; and I trust
in God that the results of the uprising of the Chris-
tian philanthropists against this monstrous evil will
be as successful as the uprising of the North was
against the twin curse to the world Slavery.
Beer was to be introduced as a substitute for gin,
but has become only an additional article for intoxi-
cation, demonstrating that the use of beer leads on
to spirits. There are some who say that lager beer
is not intoxicating. I heard a reformed man say that
he got so drunk on lager that, to use his own expres-
sion, he " couldn't tell the difference between a two-
dollar bill and Boston Common." Men drink for in-
toxication, and the beer only ministers to this desire.
Let us look at a modern public-house, or gin-palace,
in London.
There are some which are regarded more respecta-
ble than others, but this corner establishment is an
average "palace;" is very gay, gaudy and glittering;
its brilliant gas-jets gleaming through its windows of
* 16,525 women were found drank and disorderly in London, in 1878.
A GET-PALACE. 245
finest plate glass. There is no lack of French polish
and gilding. Tier after tier of gigantic casks sur-
round the room. Beer is sold a halfpenny a pint
cheaper than at the beer-house. It is curious beer,
half sweet and half acrid, black, muddy, brown in the
froth, unpleasant to the taste, adulterated, cobbled up
that the dealer may get rich and the customer drunk
and poisoned. There is very little beer that is not
" doctored " and made even worse than in its original
state by deleterious drugs. Indeed, every kind of
intoxicating liquors is adulterated. The manufac-
ture of wines, brandies, whiskeys, and other liquors
is a wonderfully profitable trade. I have a book,
obtained with some difficulty, on the manufacture of
these articles, and the revelation is somewhat star-
tling. But to return to the public-house.
The area before the bar will hold seventy or eighty
persons, allowing at the same time room for a stand-
up fight. The gin-palace has not only a bar but
divers boxes partitioned off from the general area.
There is the wholesale bar entrance, retail entrance,
jug and bottle entrance; but wholesale or retail, jug
or bottle, it means beer and spirits. The bar is cov-
ered with pewter, perforated to allow the drainings,
washings and outspillings of the glasses to run
through, all which is dealt out again, under the
name of " all sorts." The drinkers being shaky in
the hand, the profit from this source tells up at the
close of the year. At the back of the bar are pla-
cards printed in colors and framed, telling of " Old
Tom," "Cream of the Yalley," " Superior Cream Gin,"
" Beer, Strong as Brandy, Tenpence a Pot," " The
Dew off Ben Nevis," "Kinahan's L. L., the Eight
Sort." I was told, when in Dublin, that the origin of
246 LASTDLORD AND CUSTOMERS.
the mark on the casks of Kinahan's L. L. is that one
of the Lord Lieutenants some years ago was very par-
tial to a certain kind of whiskey made by Kinahan,
and when the casks were sent to the government
house they were marked " Kinahan's L. L., the Right
Sort."
Look at the landlord, corpulent, hands in his pock-
ets, his keen eyes fixed on the beer or gin-drawing
gymnastics of his bar-man, who wears a cap and
holds a piece of straw or the stalk of a flower in his
mouth. See how viciously he bites the silver coin
when suspicious of its genuineness. When he gives
you change, he slaps it down on the counter with
" 'ere ye are," and to the next customer, " Now, then."
There is generally a bar-maid or two, and the number
is increasing (for they are found more attractive than
men), with a brilliant complexion, long ringlets, and
necklace.
Look at the customers, for what you see in one gin-
palace is seen in all, with some qualifications. There
is a sickening sameness, for while some of them have
a respectable appearance, a majority of the frequent-
ers are thieves, beggars, hoary-headed old men,
stunted, ragged, rickety children, blowsy, slatternly
women, heavy-looking laboring men, gaunt, sickly,
half-grown creatures. It is the same everywhere; the
same woman giving her baby gin ; the same haggard,
dishevelled wife coaxing her husband home; the same
poor girl sitting meekly in a corner with both eyes
blackened, while her partner is drinking; the same
pale, weary-looking little man, who appears as if he
had come up out of his grave to get another glass of
gin, and has forgotten his way back; the same red-
nosed man who disgusts you with his slang, and sur-
PUBLIC-HOUSE SCENES. 247
prises you with his Greek and Latin quotations ; the
same thin spectral man who has no money, with hands
piteously laid over each other, standing for hours,
gazing with gin-hungry eyes at the liquor, licking
his fever-white lips, smelling, thinking, hopelessly
longing.
More dreadful than any, that same miserable girl,
sixteen in years, one hundred in misery, with foul
matted hair, ragged boots, cracked voice, tattered
shawl, and hopeless eye; her haggard face stamped
with the impress of death. See that man whitening
his face to do the ghost in Hamlet! Here's a coster-
monger, with a basket, pressing his way up to the
bar, and jostles that vender of fish.
"Now then, stupid, vere are you driving to, eh?
I say, I'm blessed if there isn't the werry same fish
you vos a- wending a week ago last Monday ! "
"Come, old fellow, I'll butter your muffins both
sides for you, and throw in the pepper for nothing/'
"Till ye?"
"Ikinandlvill."
Both set down their baskets. The slang is awful.
One of the raggedest, dirtiest, and smallest of the
boys climbs on a barrel and shouts out "Fair play! "
An extensive " shindy " is kicked up, and the fighting
becomes, as one of them tells us, quite " permiscus."
The police are called in, the house cleared, the doors
closed; the mob dispersed, the door opens and the
game goes on.
Such is a fair specimen of a certain class, and by
far the most numerous class of publics. In proof
that my description is not overdrawn, I give an ex-
tract from the leading newspaper of England:
16
248 FASHIONABLE CAPES.
"In other parts of the world," says the " London Times," "maybe
seen the frown of the African when excited by rum, the contortions of
Arabs under the influence of 'hashish,' Malays furious from 'bang,'
Turks trembling under the effects of opium, Chinese strangely emaci-
ated from its inordinate use ; but for a scene of horrid vice and filth and
lust and fury, all drawn into one point and there fermenting, a man
might search the world all over and not find a rival to a thriving public-
house in a low, gin-drinking neighborhood. Is it, then, astonishing that
of such scenes as these an eminent judge should say that the working-
man often enters the public-house respectable and leaves it a felon? "
"While the Londoners have imitated the Americans
in some beneficial respects, they have imitated them in
a ruinous direction in the cafes and saloons that are
springing up in the best thoroughfares, many of
them very gorgeous and attractive, most of them
with private apartments, the customers of a higher
grade in the social scale than those to be found in the
common but less dangerous gin-palace. I have stood
as a looker-on before some of these places to note
the patrons. They come in cabs or hansoms, young
girls with their gentlemen friends, perhaps lovers.
Nothing there to offend the eye: a policeman on
special duty ; no noise, no profanity, no ribald songs ;
it is genteel. Such places are byways to perdition.
Then there are the music-halls, many of them dis-
graceful, some more exclusive, others tolerably de-
cent, all licensed by act of Parliament, of which I
may speak on another page.
There is no trade so damaging to the community,
so dangerous to the people, and so hardening to the
dealer, as the trade in intoxicating liquors. Men
naturally kindhearted, who would help a fellow-being
in distress, risking their own lives to save other lives,
seem, in this trade, to lose all humanity or sympathy
with the race, as far as their trade is concerned.
The late Rev. Wm. Arnot, of Edinburgh, at my
REV. WM. AKN'OT. 249
request furnished me with his views on the liquor
traffic. His manuscript lies before me, and I tran-
scribe some of the principal heads. He says:
" The liquor traffic stands alone, and has no right to rank with the
ordinary avocations of men. Bring it at once and bluntly to the test of
common sense and conscience. Let there be five contiguous shops pos-
sessed by five separate shopkeepers. The first sells bread, the second
milk, the third leather, the fourth dry-goods, and the fifth intoxicating
liquor. The five men ply their tasks all day, count the contents of the
till at night, and consider the prospects of trade for the morrow. The
more they have sold, the better for their own pecuniary interests. In
this they are all alike. But the more that the customers have bought
from the first four, the better for the general interests of the public ; the
more that the customers have bought from the last, the worse for them-
selves and for society. The other dealers may, with a good conscience,
pray for the increase of their sales ; the fifth cannot pray, unless his con-
science is seared as with a hot iron. He has seen many customers enter
his shop to-day and spend money which he knows is worse than lost to
them. He cannot desire that they should repeat their custom on the
morrow without deliberately wishing ill to his neighbor. In short, his
own pecuniary interests are at direct variance with the interests of his
customers. The prosperity of his trade is the ruin of those who deal
with him.
" A poor inebriate, with his mind weakened by frequent indulgence,
demands a glass, pays for it, swallows it. He demands another; the
dealer gives it : he gains a penny or two by the transaction ; but the
penny, he can but know, is wrung from the life-blood of a brother.
When such a wretch demands his glass, it is the experimentum crucis for
the dealer. If at that moment he love his neighbor, he will refuse ; if
he only love his own gain, he will give it. He stands helpless between
these two dread alternatives : he must either abandon his own gains, or
be the agent in the perdition of his neighbor. There is in practice
seldom any mental struggle, because a man soon becomes case-hardened.
Generally the liquor-seller pours out the glass to the drunkard without
any uncomfortable twitches within ; this, however, is due, not to the
innocence of the deed, but to the hardness of the doer's conscience. We
do not say the liquor-seller is worse than other men ; but this business is
so bad that he must either part with his trade in order to retain his
humanity, or part with his humanity in order to retain his trade.
"A certain large village in Perthshire, the centre of an agricultural
district, is, like its neighbors, dotted much with public-houses, one of
which, at the least equal to others in respectability, is kept by a widow.
This widow had two brothers : one, unmarried, resided under her roof;
the other, the father of a family, was a farmer in the neighborhood,
250 THE LIQUOR TRAFFIC.
whose brain had been permanently injured by long-continued habits of
excessive drinking. The two brothers were wont to dine together, along
with other relatives, in their sister's house, on the day of the weekly
market of the village. One market-day the party had all assembled,
and the dinner was not ready. The farmer was impatient; his brother
tried to soothe him with gentle words, and then left the room to hasten
the preparation of the meal. The man could not, with his damaged
intellect, lay any rein on the fury of his passion ; he followed fast, and
in the lobby plunged a knife in his brother's breast. The wounded man
was carried to his bed and died. The fratricide was tried for murder
and found guilty, but on the ground of insanity was sentenced to per-
petual imprisonment instead of death. The people pay the expense of
that murderer's maintenance during the period of his natural life ; and
the widowed sister, bereft of both her brothers, the murdered and the
murderer, what of her? She had her brother's blood washed from the
floor, then tucked up her sleeves, and continued to sell whiskey in the
same house and the same room. At this hour that sister trips across
' the spot that will not out,' with the server and glasses, to her jovial
customers. She is not conscience-stricken, and her neighbors are not
shocked.
" The traffic in liquor, as it is commonly conducted, soon withers a
woman's soul within her. It has no rights to plead, and we must lay
restraints on those who are engaged in it, and save them from them-
selves."
The liquor traffic is the same unrighteous trade
everywhere; its hardening influence on the traffickers
is as manifest here as in Great Britain. The trade is
no worse there than here; indeed, I believe that, as a
general thing, the liquor-sellers there are a better
class than here. Years ago it was considered in many
sections of our country a very disreputable thing to
sell liquor; and whether we are "bravely" getting
rid of that idea or not, the fact is, the business is as
bad now as it ever was, and, I am inclined to think, a
little worse.
Some years since, in a hotel not far from Boston,
a poor fellow who had been gambling nearly all night
cut his throat in the room over the bar on the Sunday
morning. The group round the bar were startled by
THE MEANEST MEtf. 253
a heavy drop of blood falling on the counter, and,
looking up, discovered a large red stain on the ceil-
ing, from the centre of which the drops of blood were
gathering and falling on the counter, faster and faster,
till they splashed on the floor. It was known that
before the blood was cleaned from the bar and floor
men were drinking and the trade went on, though it
was the Sabbath-day.
When poor McConnell cut himself to pieces in a
bar-room in Washington, it was stated, and never
denied, that the saloon-keeper boasted he had cleared
over one hundred dollars by the operation, as so many
came in to see the blood-stains where the poor fellow
had lain; and they could hardly come in without tak-
ing a drink.
The meanest men on the face of the earth are
among the liquor-sellers in this country. I knew of
a woman who had lost her husband by drink, and was
left penniless, with four children. I do not say the
drink-seller swindled him; but he had got possession
of his little home, and all the poor sot had to show
for his share of the bargain was the livery of the
drunkard. The widow was left very poor, and took
in plain sewing, which was rather hard to get. Some
time after the loss of her husband the liquor-seller
called and condoled with her, asked her kindly about
her prospects, professed his desire to serve her, and
proposed that she should make some shirts for him ;
he wanted a dozen at fifty cents each, that would
be six dollars. Gladly the poor widow accepted the
proposal, and began to think the liquor-dealer was a
humane man.
She toiled on, comforting herself with the thought
of six dollars, and thinking pleasantly of what she
254 DASTARDLY TRANSACTION.
should do with the money. She planned for a pair of
shoes for the shoeless boy, a dress for the girl, and so
worked on till her work was done; carried it to her
employer, who found no fault with the work all
perfectly satisfactory. After examining the articles,
he said, "I have always considered you an honest
woman, Mrs. , anxious that all should have their
dues. Now, I owe you six dollars, but I have a claim
against you that is, if you are the honest woman I
take you for. I have a note of your husband's for
five dollars, given me about a month before he died.
Now, if I pay you one dollar, that will make us
square ; " and actually returned her the note given by
her poor, besotted husband, and the one dollar. This
woman related this fact to me herself. Truly the
" tender mercies of the wicked are cruelty."
The result of this trade is to multiply want, aggra-
vate misery, to stimulate every evil passion into crime.
The sufferings of the victim are not all; the poverty,
hunger, nakedness, and cold; the battered body, with
mind beclouded, and conscience destroyed. If that
were all, it would be enough to call loudly for some
remedy; but this is not all: the drunkard's curses
grow into blows upon his wife, and his savage vio-
lence is expended on his children. Exaggerate the
evil? Dr. Guthrie says: "It is impossible to exag-
gerate; impossible truthfully to paint the effects of
this evil, either on those who are addicted to it, or on
those who suffer from it; imbruted husbands, broken-
hearted wives, and, most of all, those poor, innocent
children that are dying under cruelty and starvation;
that shiver in those rags upon our streets ; that walk
unshod amid winter snows ; and with matted hair, and
FRUITS OF THE TRAFFIC. 255
hollow cheeks, and sunken eyes, glare out on us wild
and savage-like from patched and filthy windows."
This great curse cannot be ignored, and woe to
those who, for profit or popularity, or any other mo-
tives, will not only not seek to repress it, but actually
encourage it. I cannot believe that any Christian man
can investigate this evil and its causes, without being
stirred in his inmost soul to do something to stem the
terrible tide. Much of the indifference is from want
of knowledge; it is the apathy that springs from
ignorance.
Canon Farrar says : " I must confess that it is only
familiarity with the subject that can at all impress us
with its magnitude. In the providence of God, my
own life has been passed in quiet country places, and
it was not till I came to London, and not till my atten-
tion was very deliberately turned by circumstances to
it, that I saw how terrible was the curse which was at
work in the midst of us. It seems to me nothing
more nor less than a Fury, withering and blighting
the whole fame of England. Every week in the
organ of the United Kingdom Alliance is published
a ghastly column called ' Fruits of the Traffic.' It is
no invention; it is no rhetoric; it is nothing that is
disputable, nothing that can in the least be ques-
tioned; it is nothing in the world but a series of hor-
ribly prosaic cuttings from the accidents and offences,
the police and criminal reports of other newspapers ;
and it records calamity after calamity and crime after
crime, disease, shipwrecks, conflagrations, murders,
the kicking and trampling of women, the maiming
and murdering of little children, all of which are
directly attributed to the effects of drink, by the dec-
laration of judges, by the reiterated testimony of
256 A MURDERER.
witnesses, and by the constant remorseful confessions
of the poor criminals themselves."
Can we submit to be taxed to support all that this
curse brings upon us ? I have before spoken of crime ;
let me relate a fact. In the Dartmouth prison was a
prisoner, a fine-looking, intelligent old man, who had
been in a respectable position in society. He was
under sentence of penal servitude for life. His nature
was kind, courteous, and amiable; he was so child-
like and simple-hearted you could hardly conceive
of his committing an act of brutality and violence;
and yet he had murdered his wife, who, he said, had
been dearer to him than his own life for twenty years.
He had gone out to spend the evening with some
friends, had taken an unusual quantity of liquor, and
came home drunk. When expostulated with at the
door by his wife, in his madness he struck her a blow
that laid her dead at his feet.
This reminds me of a case I met in one of our own
state prisons. I was attracted, while speaking to the
prisoners in the chapel, by the patient, gentle look of
one of the convicts who sat before me, whose whole
appearance was that of a mild-tempered, quiet man.
After the service, one of the prison officers, in reply
to my question, stated that this same man was serving
out a life term. I asked what was the possible crime
for which he was serving a life term in a state's
prison.
"Murder."
"Murder?"
" Yes ; he murdered his wife."
Having asked if I might have an interview with
him, my request was granted, and I held a conversa-
tion with him.
UNAVAILING REGRET. 257
" My friend, I do not wish to ask you any questions
that will be annoying; but I was struck by your ap-
pearance, and was so much surprised when I heard of
your crime, that I thought I would like to ask you a
question. May I?"
" Certainly, sir."
" Then why did you commit the crime? What led
you to it? "
Then came such a pitiful story. He said:
" I loved my wife, but I drank to excess ; she was
a good woman; she never complained; come home
when or how I might, she never scolded. I think
I never heard a sharp word from her. She would
sometimes look at me with such a pitying look that
went to my heart: sometimes it made me tender,
and I would cry and promise to do better; at other
times it would make me angry. I almost wished
she would scold me, rather than look at me with that
patient earnestness. I knew I was breaking her heart,
but I was a slave to drink; though I loved her, I
knew I was killing her. One day I came home drunk,
and as I entered the room I saw her sitting at the
table, her face resting on her hand. Oh, my God ! I
think I see her now ! As I came in she lifted up her
face; there were tears there, but she smiled and said,
'Well, William.' I remember just enough to know
that I was mad. The devil entered into me. I rushed
into the kitchen, seized my gun, and deliberately shot
her as she sat by that table. I am in prison for life,
and I have no desire to be released. If a pardon was
offered me, I think I should refuse it. Buried here in
this prison, I wait till the end comes. I trust God has
forgiven me for Christ's sake. I have bitterly re-
pented; I repent every day. Oh, the nights when in
258 ONLY ONE VICTIM.
the darkness I see her face see her just as she
looked on me that fatal day! I shall rejoice when the
time comes. I pray that I may meet her in heaven."
This was said with sobbings and tears that were
heart-breaking to hear.
Only one victim among the many !
CHAPTER XYIII.
DESPAIR AND DEATH. STORIES OF RUINED HOMES
AND BROKEN HEARTS.
The Prisoner's Testimony How Prisons are filled The Offspring of
Drink Appalling Statistics The Inhuman Father Selling a Child
for Two Pairs of Stockings Getting drunk with the Proceeds The
Drunken Mother and her Dying Children An Affecting Story
Sufferings in the Best Circles A Terrible Story The Brutal Hus-
band and his Dead Wife Horrible Brutality Truth stranger than
Fiction The Clergyman's Suicide The Lawyer's Despair and
Death Rum unmakes the Gentleman A Dreadful Domestic Scene
The Beaten and Disfigured Wife Destruction of Property The
Mountaineer's Home Rum-Madness Driven from Home The
Night on the Mountain Terrible Destitution and Sufferings
The Desolate Home Enticed to a Grog-Shop A Drunken Sot
The Winter's Night Eaten by Swine.
" the " London Times " is a letter from
a very intelligent man who suffered six
years' imprisonment for crime committed
under the influence of drink. I give a
few extracts. He says:
" During the whole of my stay in prison the ques-
tion kept rising in my mind, What brings all these men
here? Day after day I asked men with whom I came
in contact what brought them to prison. I got as an
answer the ' same dull, dismal, damnable old story,' over
and over again."
After referring to special cases of young men who
had become bankrupt in pocket and health, belonging
to respectable families, bank clerks and shopmen,
259
260 RESULTS OF DRINK.
every one of whom traced their ruin to City and
West-End drinking-saloons, he says:
" Now that I have passed a term of penal servitude as a consequence
of similar folly, I seem scarcely able to understand in what the horrible
fascination consists which keeps men day after day lolling over a refresh-
ment public-house bar. The habit is confined to no class: mechanics,
merchants, professional men, clerks, shopkeepers, and laborers are taking
that wretched road. The convict prisons are crowded with men who,
had they been abstainers from strong drink, would have been to-day the
support and comfort of happy families. What their condition is, only
those who have experienced the horrors of prison-life can understand ;
what the condition of many of their families is, is too fearful to con-
template."
It is useless to shut one's eyes to the fact that, but
for the drink curse, the number of criminals would
be so small that at least two thirds of the convict
prisons would be empty. The chaplain of the Clerk-
enwell House of Detention keeps an elaborate note
of the cases which come under his notice, and he
finds that seven ninths of the cases which come to his
prison come there as the result of drink. The chap-
lain of a prison for females not himself an abstainer,
and he cannot therefore be accused of partiality to
his creed states from his note-book that out of one
hundred and forty-six persons brought to the prison
in five days, one hundred and twenty-six came directly
through the influence of drink. People can verify
these statements as to the general result of drinking
by a fair examination. Let me quote from the ex-
convict's letter:
" I was compelled for six long years to listen to family histories, to
stories of crime and poverty, wretchedness and horror. It was with
no disposition in favor of total abstinence that I tried to probe the cause
of it. I had never been a teetotaler; had I been so, I should never
have been in prison myself. But stern facts which came to my knowl-
edge day by day forced me to the conclusion that a very large propor-
tion of all the crime and all the poverty in the land is the direct offspring
of intoxicating drink.
JUDGE NOAH DAVIS. 261
"Many of them inherited the vice from drunken fathers and mothers.
They were taught to sip the drink in their babyhood, and took it from
the hands of mothers who had stolen the money with which to purchase
it. I learned day after day, from the admissions of these criminals them-
selves, that the poverty, ignorance, and want of proper homes had been,
in nine cases out of ten, the consequence of drink."
It seems amazing that well-authenticated facts do
not move the people. Our own judges are continu-
ally testifying to the crime produced by drink; yet
how little do the great bulk of the people feel the
pressure of such terrible facts. A committee of the
House of Commons of the Dominion of Canada, re-
porting in 1875, states that out of 28,289 commit-
ments to the jails of the provinces of Ontario and
Quebec during the three previous years, 21,236 were
committed either for drunkenness or for crimes per-
petrated under the influence of drink. It is the same
everywhere.*
If hydrophobia should produce in this country one
hundredth part of the crime, poverty, misery, taxa-
tion, and the multiplicity of evils that drink does,
there would not be a living dog in the United States
in six months. Every lady would give up her pet
spaniel, the hunter his setter and pointer; even the
very watch-dogs would be destroyed, or most care-
fully guarded against contagion.
The revelations of the results of the drinking cus-
toms are appalling. Let us take a few well-authen-
ticated facts. We read statistics of pauperism, lu-
nacy, and crime, and think no more of them than of
a number of figures that mean nothing. But go
where the shot strikes. Listen to the cry of that
little girl as the sound rings out from that cellar.
* Read Judge Noah Davis' pamphlet on " Intemperance and Crimes,"
from which I have taken the above statement.
262 AWFUL REVELATIONS.
Enter, and see that mere child of seven years writh-
ing under the heavy blows inflicted with a large strap
by a brutal, half-drunken man ; the poor little creature
striving to defend herself, the blows fall alike on
head, arms, and shoulders. Will a father beat his child
so young, in such a brutal manner? Perhaps; but
this is a child he has bought from a drunken mother,
who had sold her for half-a-crown to that cruel,
drunken wretch, and who had spent the money the
same day in drink.
I saw an interesting little girl who had hip com-
plaint, whose mother had sold her to a villanous
tramp for two pairs of stockings. She sold the stock-
ings, and got drunk with the proceeds. There is a
man now in prison whose wife lost an eye some time
since by his violence when drunk, and whose only
child is deformed for life as the result of another
drunken fit. He is now confined for depriving his wife
of her other eye when they were both drunk. She is
blind, he in prison, and the child is a cripple.
A woman had two children suffering from fever.
One morning she received from some ladies in the
neighborhood all that had been prescribed by the
doctor, together with money for their wants. The
ladies went in the evening to inquire after the chil-
dren, and found them alone in the agonies of death,
induced by want and neglect. On being searched
for, the woman was found drunk in a neighboring
tavern. She had spent the money and then sold the
articles of clothing, given in charity, for drink. All
that could be done for the children was of no avail
it was too late. In the night the ladies left her when
she had become somewhat sober, she making all sorts
of promises. When they called, the next forenoon,
A CELLAR SCENE. THE BRUTE AND THE LAMB.
CANNOT EXAGGERATE. 265
they found the little corpses lying unstraightened
where their spirits had left them; and the comforts
their hands had provided a few hours before had gone
to the pawn-shop. The mother was again drunk in
the nearest grog-shop.
Tell me of exaggeration in our statements ! Talk
of enthusiasm, fanaticism, and monomania in our pro-
test against this horrible evil and its cause ! Look at
these facts! Do you wish any more? I can fill this
book with the records of drink's doings. You say
they are among the lower orders. There is more dif-
ficulty in arriving at definite knowledge of cases in
the so-called upper classes ; for while the poorer seem
to live very much out of doors, and accordingly what
they do is known, the habits of the other classes are
so covered by the circumstances of their position that
we only see and know what crops out on the surface.
But, oh, the revelations that come to me! If I
should give you letters that I have received from
mothers, sisters, wives, and daughters of education
and refinement, ladies belonging to the aristocratic
circles, confiding to me the story of ruined homes,
broken hearts, tarnished characters, the unnecessary
sickness, the maniac's death, revealing scenes per-
fectly appalling, you would say that my book was a
volume of horrors, and yet all stern truth with no
exaggeration.
Bulwer says that "a wicked gentleman who has
lost caste and character is more unreclaimable than a
wicked clown, low born and low bred, that in propor-
tion to the loss of shame is the gain in recklessness."
A shrewd writer has said, " There is always hope for
a dull, uneducated, stolid man, led by accident or
temptation into guilt; but when a man of ability and
266 DRINK IK HIGH LIFE.
education besots himself in the intoxication of dark
and terrible excitements, and takes impure delight in
slimy ways, the good angel abandons him forever."
I believe it, for in my experience I have found such
a man the hardest to reach, generally the most des-
perate and reckless. He never takes his self-wrought
ruin kindly; he cannot lie down in the ditch without
shame and remorse; he has neglected opportunities,
and he knows it; he compares the thing he is with
what he was and might be but for his folly; he
shrinks with disgust from himself; he gnashes his
teeth at the retribution that must come, and takes his
punishment with rage in his heart. Oh, yes, it is
true in morals as it is in physics: the farther a man
falls the deeper he goes.
Here is an extract from a letter, written by a lady
moving in the higher circles of society, who refers to
a well-known doctor of divinity for proof of the state-
ment should it be needed. After giving some details
of the course of intemperance into which a gentleman
of education and fortune, occupying a high social posi-
tion, had fallen, and the distress and weary agony of
his wife, she writes:
"Mary's heart broke. I was with her during her last illness, and
never have I seen such patience as she manifested. S was gone nearly
all the time, and when he did come we were obliged to lock the doors,
and sometimes to send for help to keep him off, for he was furious when
drunk, and once, when in drink, had fearfully whipped his sweet little
girl. During her sickness I never went on my knees that I did not pray
God most fervently to take her to Himself. At last she died. Having
laid her out, we locked up the room, and left her in the chamber of
death. That night S came home seemingly sober, and requested us
to let him see his wife. So deceived were we by his well-assumed mel-
ancholy, that we gave him the door-key. In about ten minutes after he
left us, a servant came to the door weeping, and begged us to go and
'take master away, for lie was beating mistress.' We sent some of the
gentlemen up. After they came back, we went to see what he had done,
TERRIBLE REVELATIONS. 267
and there was my precious Mary, his own wife, who had never given
him an unkind word, lying on the floor ; all her burial clothes torn from
off her body, and that bruised and mangled to such a degree that the
ladies in the room were unable to endure such a scene. Her old nurse
and I stayed and shrouded her again, and her body was in such a condi-
tion as to compel an immediate burial. The servant who saw him said
that he dragged her from the bed on which she lay, and stamped on her,
and then dashed her against the furniture. In a few months after S
died drunk."
My heart sickens as I turn to these letters which
I have preserved. Such revelations! not fiction, not
romance, but fact, and all produced by the use of that
which, to say the best we can for it, is but a luxury.
It is easy to talk of exaggeration, but I wish those
who doubt the reality of such outrages could only
once see for themselves.
I venture to give a few extracts from over three
hundred letters from the victims of this terrible evil.
I have selected only those where the statements could
be corroborated, and where the correspondents were
reliable, and I give them as genuine. Those who
did not sign their name sent me cards of reference.
Where I put initials I have the names. Some held
interviews with me after I had received their letters.
I have some communications well attested, but so fear-
fully horrible that I refrain from publishing them.^ A
gentleman writes me from Pittsburgh, signed W. K. :
"In the year 18 , a clergyman belonging for some time to the Meth-
odist Church, one whom I had often heard preach, cut his throat from
ear to ear in my parlor in broad daylight. I was at tea in another room.
When I came into the parlor, to my utter astonishment he had the knife
in his throat, up to the handle. I attempted to stop him, and very nar-
rowly escaped being killed myself. This man had been highly respected
for piety and talents, but he fell by indulging in the moderate drinking
of ale, until he became a drunkard. Remorse of conscience drove him
to the horrid act. He seldom drank anything but ale."
Ale is a soporific and, according to authority, is a
" good thing to sleep on."
17
268 FEARFUL EXPERIENCES.
A most respectable gentleman writes from Ohio:
" As a reminiscence for useful reference, allow me to narrate to you
in short the life and death of an old friend of mine who lived in W
County, in this State. His name was B C , a brother of J
C , who at one time was one of the Supreme Judges of O .
B was one of the ablest jurists, and for many years a partner of one
of the first lawyers in the State. He began to drink in early life, when
it was fashionable for everybody, from the clergy down to the common
laborer, to ' take a glass.' He continued to circulate around on the edge
of the whirlpool, until he ' couldn't quit.' He became, with his mighty
mind and masterly legal attainments, a great sot. At one time, I heard
him make one of the most cogent legal arguments I ever listened to;
and he said, after he got through, that while he was speaking he could
see toads squatting in the corners and along the walls of the court-room,
and serpents were coiling all around before his eyes, and hissing in his
ears, while all manner of imps were dancing about in the air, spouting
their blue breath in his face. Such is but a brief description of things im-
agined, which he said tormented him so that he could hardly speak. And
yet he recounted the evidence and applied the law and reasoning to the
facts in the most masterly style, and more so than his partner, who was
with him in the case. How can a man reason thus in delirium tremens?
" A few weeks after this, the unfortunate inebriate, in the endeavor to
climb the stairway to his office, made a false step near the top, and fell
backwards to the ground, the stairway being outside the house. He was
taken up, and conveyed to the house of his brother, the judge, where he
died in a week or two in that horrible state of mind and body mania-a-
potu. During his illness, he was attended by the kind hand of his
amiable brother and tender friend. His brother he would often curse.
Had it not been for drink, this man of excellent mind and manly dispo-
sition might have been yet living, an honor to his name, and of useful-
ness to his kind. He was a bachelor.
" Yours, &c., R. R. M ."
I received the following from a gentleman in
Canada:
" My father is a Scotchman by birth. He received the education of a
gentleman's son in his native land; his abilities were of the highest
order. He was, from his boyhood, of a fiery temper, and veiy easily
excited; of a majestic mien, and a great favorite. He married, emi-
grated to this country, purchased a farm and settled on it, living there
for twelve years in the enjoyment of peace, happiness, comfort, and pros-
perity. He at length thought that farming brought too meagre profits,
and accordingly embarked in the mercantile business, dealing in liquors
by wholesale and retail. He began to drink, and in less than two years
A "GENTLEMAN" DRUNKARD. 269
became a confirmed drunkard, and has been so for the past eighteen
years, becoming a miserable wreck. The influence of liquor upon his
mind defies description, as it always produced a maddening effect. It
never succeeded in destroying his locomotion, or laying him in the gutter,
or numbing his tongue ; but, on the contrary, it always gave buoyancy and
strength to his step, elasticity to his feet, and eloquence to his tongue ;
while at the same time it made him a fiend to his own family, and par-
ticularly to his wife.
" Many times had my poor mother to flee out of her bed in her night-
dress, in the coldest winter nights, and take refuge in the horse-stables
and barns, and as frequently did her children throw her clothing out of
the windows of her bedroom, to protect her body from the chilling north-
ern blasts of the Canadian winters. On one occasion he locked her in
her room, locked all the doors of the house, and then swore to my sister,
who was about seven years old, that if she should make any noise while
he was whipping her mother, that he would murder her. He then re-
tired to the room where my mother was incarcerated, and dealt her a
ponderous blow, which laid her upon the carpet, weltering in her blood.
He then leaped upon her with his feet, pounded her face until it was
black, and the blood oozed out of her ears, nose, and mouth ; when provi-
dentially a neighbor, hearing the alarm, burst open the door, and, shall I
say, saved my mother's life.
" After he was released from the influence of alcohol, and saw what
he had done to the wife of his bosom, whom he loved sincerely, he went
almost distracted. For two months did he nurse her, and tried his very
best to restore her face to its natural appearance, but, alas ! it could not
be effected ; she bears at this moment a long and deep scar upon her
brow, done by the hand of her husband while under the influence of
damning drunkenness.
" But notwithstanding the fearful and tragical end that this revel had
almost led to, it was soon forgotten. The appetite was too strong, too
deeply rooted within him to be resisted, or to be conquered, and a multi-
plicity of engagements, or at least pretended engagements, calling him
frequently into company, revel has succeeded revel spree has succeeded
spree ; and chasing wife and family with deadly instruments, and the de-
struction of household furniture, have followed as necessary consequences
during these last years.
" My two brothers left him at the age of eighteen years, whom, on ac-
count of their being under age, he endeavored to prosecute, but he could
not, in consequence of his having abused them. I left at the age of
seventeen. I shall never forget that gloomy morning. It was the morn-
ing that I was roused out of my slumbers by the rattling of the carriage-
wheels, and the galloping of the horses up to the front door. I heard my
father burst into the house, ripping and tearing like a madman, because
the family were not out of their beds to salute him on his arrival home.
He went into my mother's room, and seized her by the throat in her bed.
270 MADNESS FROM DRINK.
When I heard her cry for help, I bounded out of my bed, and ran down-
stairs, and rushed into my mother's apartment, and took hold of him be-
hind his back, and by some supernatural strength prostrated him upon
the floor. As soon as mother made her escape, I made mine, although
pursued by father and his gun, and left a last adieu to my father's abode,
and have since directed my attention to a profession.
"His destruction of property has been exceedingly great. He has
squandered thousands of pounds in drink ; drove horses to death ; broke
carriages; consigned the most valuable clothing of the family to the
flames ; destroyed household furniture, such as dishes, chairs, sofas, side-
boards, stoves, clocks ; and all of which he would immediately replace,
as soon as he would get sober, without counting the cost.
(Signed) " A. M. K ."
I had an interview with the writer, now following
a profession in Canada.
The next extract is from a very long letter written
by a friend, relating to circumstances well known in
the county where he resided.
" Enos Cook resides, or his family does, upon the mountain side,
about a mile east from our village, and far elevated above it in a wretched
hovel built of logs (a dreary, lonesome, desolate place), he has been
for many years the miserable victim of intemperance. His family, poor
and destitute, have been the subjects of want and misery, of destitution
and untold suffering, for many a sorrowful year. Yet they bore it in
silence, and submitted without a murmur to the blows and brutal violence
of the oft-infuriated husband and father, to the present occasion.
" His wife, one of the most harmless, inoffensive persons, has all this
time supported the family by hard work, away from home, at washing,
house-cleaning, etc. (as all his earnings went into the liquor dealers'
hands), often having to leave her little children at home alone, miles
from her work ; yet she murmured not. And when her husband came
home in a rage from liquor, she as silently permitted him to devour or
waste the whole of the proceeds of her labor, as she dared say or do
not! ling to offend him. He has even, on many occasions, earned from
home such of the articles of her earnings as were available to him, and
exchanged them for liquor with the heartless rum-seller, leaving her
and her children in utter destitution. To such treatment the woman has
submitted for years.
" This season lias been, if possible, worse than former ones. She has
been beaten frequently and dragged from the house, and on one occasion
for several rods over the stony ground, for endeavoring to prevent him
from murdering her son. On Thursday last, being destitute of liquor,
DESTRUCTION OF PROPERTY. 273
he collected from the mountain a quantity of pine knots (such as are
used for kindling fires), and took them to the village and procured liquor.
He then went to work and made a couple of splint brooms, for which he
procured two bottles of liquor on Friday. Returning home intoxicated,
he secreted one out of doors, went into the house and demanded of his
wife something to eat. She told him she had nothing in the house, when
he struck her a blow that felled her from her chair almost senseless on
the floor, and fell to kicking her most inhumanly. When she was able
to speak, she intimated that she would go to the poor-master for relief
from this brutality, but this only enraged him the more, and added to the
blows and kicks she had already received.
" When his bottle was exhausted, forgetting what he had done with the
other, he demanded it. The woman told him she knew nothing of it,
when he turned to his daughter, about twelve years old, and ordered her
to get his bottle or he would kill her. Alarmed for her life, the girl com-
menced looking about the room, but not finding it, the madman seized
her by the throat and was strangling her to suffocation, when the mother
endeavored to prevail on him to desist. He then let go of the daughter,
seized his axe and flew after his wife, but she had escaped out of doors
just in time to prevent him from burying it in her brain. He did not
pursue her, but raged about the room, striking his axe into the floor and
threatening to murder the children. The few old chairs and all the fur-
niture they had were smashed to pieces. He then opened a box contain-
ing all the clothing she or the children had, tramped upon the contents,
and then kicked them into the fire.
" In the mean time the woman went to the poor-master, and he told
her he would do something next day. Toward night she ascended the
mountain, and silently drew near her wretched home to learn the fate of
her children. She heard her husband raving and swearing that when
ghe returned he would maul her so that she could not get to the village
again. Her youngest child, just old enough to walk, was outside the
house. She seized it, and taking the miserable rag from her own shoul-
ders, she wrapped it up and retraced her steps to a neighbor's house,
where she spent the night of Friday.
"Next morning, his liquor being gone, he having found the other
bottle and drank the contents, he took two fowls, which had been given his
wife for her labor, and carried them away. One he sold to a liquor-
dealer, and raffled away the other to another one.
"On Saturday, toward night, in the absence of her husband, the
woman ventured home. But on his approach she retired, and when the
officers went to arrest him, where was she? Gone to the village? No.
She had token refuge among the cliffs on the bleak mountain-side. Be-
neath a shelving rock, upon that cold Saturday night, she and her infant
were found, where she had gathered a few sticks and had succeeded in
lighting a fire, thinking there to pass the night. This night would have
been her last had not the officers told her to return to her house, as they
274 THE RUINED MECHANIC.
had secured him and would protect her. He was taken to Kingston jail
on Sunday.
"On that afternoon I went up to see the family, and the scene ex-
ceeded my worst anticipations. The door, torn from its hinges, was
leaning up to its place without being much protection from the cold
wind, which around that pile of logs shrieked its shrill requiem over
domestic happiness destroyed; and although the sun was still shining,
all was darkness within, save the feeble flashes of a scantily fed fire.
There was not a window in the house, or any aperture through which
light could find admittance except at the doorway. The mother, with
her infant at her breast, and three other small children, were occupying
the remnants of the broken chairs. When my eyes had become regu-
lated to the room, I saw that there was nothing in it, save the axe, the
empty box, a broom, an apology for a table, and two miserable bunks
covered with old carpeting and rags. Such are the doings of rum, and
such the home of the poor drunkai-d and his family.
(Signed) "G. A. D."
The gentleman who wrote the foregoing letter was
well known to me.
I now quote from a letter sent me by a gentleman
of New York, relating to a case in Albany.
"A worthy mechanic, I think a cooper by trade, had an interesting
family, a fond wife and three children. For a long time he was indus-
trious, frugal, and domestic in his habits. He was enticed from his
usual path of virtue to a grog-shop, by his companions; and from that
time day by day he frequented that charnel-house of destruction, until
he became an habitual drunkard. Night after night he would leave his
family, and come home late, a perfect sot. His wife expostulated and
did everything in her power to reclaim him, but in vain; he soon
became lost to all obligations to his family. He was frequently so drunk
that he could not reach his home until his poor wife had left her abode
and her helpless children in search of him, and by the aid of friends had,
night after night, brought him home a drunken sot. One cold winter
evening, carousing with his bad associates, he left them, and in attempt-
ing to reach his room he missed his way, and to find shelter he stumbled
into an old hovel on Pearl Street, the basement of which was the usual
retreat for the stray hogs of the city. In this filthy abode this poor
creature made his bed for the night. Not reaching his home, late at
night his wife, with a friend, started in pursuit of him. After visiting
the dens he usually frequented, they gave up the search in despair. The
next morning they continued their search, and, sad to relate, they found
the mangled body of this once fond husband and doting father, half
eaten up by this herd of swine, with whom he had unconsciously taken
shelter from the inclement storm. H. C , 7 G St."
CHAPTEK XIX.
FOOTPRINTS OF RUM. STORIES OF RUINED HOMES
AND BROKEN HEARTS (CONTINUED).
A Cry from Connecticut Drunkenness worse than Death Five Days
with Delirium Tremens Hope deferred The Drunkard's Adopted
Child The Murdered Babe The Wife shielding the Murderer, only
to be murdered herself The Murderer's Suicide Last Scenes in the
Domestic Tragedy The Drunkard and his Dead Wife The Drunken
Clergyman preaching Old Sermons Stealing Postage-Stamps to buy
Rum Another Clergyman ruined by Drink An Unfeeling Father
Stealing his Little Boy's Shoes to buy Drink The Drunkard's Cry
Pity for the Victims A Blasted Life The Drunkard's " Ode to
the Departing Year" "What of the Ship?" The Redeemed
Man's Narrative Evils of Social Drinking Bitter Recollections
Maddening Desire for Drink What is to be done? The Dram-
Shops of Birmingham Sunday Drinking Terrible Results.
is not a commonwealth but has
felt in many homes the terrific curse
of rum. Homes blighted by its deso-
lation are countless. Out from Con-
necticut, that " land of steady habits,"
comes this wailing cry. It takes the
deepest suffering to call forth the an-
guish of woman's loving heart:
" I have never known but one sorrow. My father, a sister, and a
brother have left me, and gone to their last home. I thought that was
sorrow ; but how mistaken I was ! My loss was their gain. But I have
a sorrow, a grief, a great grief; and it bends me down, and sometimes I
275
276 IS THERE NO HELP?
feel that it is insupportable. I have friends that know in part, and they
say with one voice, ' Leave the cause.' I ask them, ' Can I forget, if I
leave? ' I cannot make them understand how I can love a man that has
forgotten to respect himself. Poor man! nature has clone much for him,
and, with an education that might have helped him through life pleas-
antly, all has been wasted, so far. He is but thirty-three years old, and
yet many have been the nights that I have sat over him anxiously
watching and fearing lest he should never wake again, and I
shudder when I think of it! for five days I nursed and watched him
through delirium tremens. I let no one but his father see him. How we
both lived, God only knows, for he thought me an enemy.
"At one time after that he became a Son of Temperance ; but through
his acquaintances he fell. He was pleasing, and young men liked his
company, and when invited he could never say ' No ; ' and now he
doesn't seem to care what people say or think. Oh, he has fallen, fallen
so far! So many times he has promised he would never taste again,
and I believe he means it when he tells me so; but lie has not power to
resist temptation. He sometimes says none care for him, he is of no
consequence. I am afraid I have lost what influence I ever did have.
We are told, ' Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.' I feel it is too
true ; for surely my heart is sick, and were it not for the consolation I
find in the religion of Jesus, I should long ere this have despaired. Oh,
that he could be saved! Can there be any help? His precious soul,
what will become of that? If there is any advice you can give me for
his benefit, no matter what it may be, it shall be followed as far as lies
in my power. What would not a woman do for her husband? And I
have a little son, my only child, just ten years old; and oh, how I
tremble for him lest he will follow his father's example ! He is a child
quick and impulsive, and fond of his father, and has many times asked
why he can't drink beer, if his father does. Oh, dear sir, you can't
know the anguish of a heart lacerated as mine has been ; but I know you
can feel for a poor bleeding heart, and so I have trespassed on your time
and patience. I beg you will pardon me; but if you think for one
moment of a poor man falling lower and still lower, I believe you will
both pity and forgive me. M ."
The following are extracts from a Philadelphia
letter, revealing the scenes in a domestic tragedy
which occurred in that beautiful city:
" Some few years ago I was in business at No. 30 Market Street, at
which time a man named J C applied to me for work. He was
quite genteel in appearance, and I gave him work, which was satisfac-
torily done. For some time I continued to employ him ; but he seldom
came himself for or with his jobs. His wife was in the habit of coming
THE ADOPTED CHILD. 277
to the store, and on one occasion I asked her why John did not himself
bring in the work, when she reluctantly told me of her fears to trust him
out, if it could be avoided, lest in his weakness of habits he should drink
to excess, when he was sure to abuse her. So long as he kept from
liquor, however, he was affectionate, industrious, and as good a husband
as any woman could wish for."
After relating scenes of distress, imprisonment,
brutality almost beyond belief, nearly murdering his
wife, revelations of sickening and revolting cruelty,
he writes :
" They had adopted a child, and John was veiy fond of the babe, and
his wife became very much attached to it.
" He left home one morning early, came back about eleven o'clock ;
he was drunk, and he then said that it was time the child had gone after
its mother, that he was not going to be troubled with other people's
brats. However, he soon went out again, and did not return home until
just about dusk. When he staggered up-stairs, the windows in the room
were raised, as the weather, was quite warm. His wife was just in the
act of lighting the lamp as John went over to the settee, upon which she
had just laid the child. Without a single word, he picked up the child
and threw it out the window. The woman flew down the stairs to the
street, and there she found the babe : it was dead ; the head was smashed.
She fainted at the sight. Oh, it was horrible ! A crowd soon collected.
She was, with the child, taken into the house. And now she was in a
dilemma : her husband was a murderer, and yet she loved him still ; for
she knew, or felt then, that it was not his nature to commit a violent
wrong, only when his action was controlled by rum. She therefore
sought by stratagem to release him from any charge, and battled a little
while with her conscience, and then, with grief and sorrow depicted on
her countenance, she told those persons around her that she had been
sitting at the window with the child in her arms, where she had fallen
asleep, and that the child rolled out of her arms and fell to the pave-
ment. Unfortunately for her, she was believed. The child was buried,
and there was nothing afterward said about it. John sometimes spoke
of it, but never without bringing tears in his eyes. She believed that he
never forgave himself for having committed the murder."
This child was a little girl six months old. Some
time after, the poof woman was compelled to separate
from him, and for a while he could not discover her
whereabouts. One Sunday evening the gentleman
who writes me was at his home in North Fifth Street,
278 A DOUBLE MURDERER.
when the man called, as described in these closing
words of the letter:
" He appeared to be sober, and upon my invitation he came in. After
sitting a while, he apologized for calling upon me on Sunday, but he
wished to know if his wife still worked for me, or if I had seen her
lately. I told him that she had done no work for me for many months,
and that the last time I saw her, she told me that she was living in Jer-
sey. He then said that he met her in the street the night before (being
Saturday night), and that she would not speak to him ; and that if he
could find her, he would kill her. He appeared much irritated. I then
talked to him, and tried to convince him that he alone was in fault ; that
if he would only entirely abandon the use of rum, that there was no
doubt of much happiness still in store for him. I made use of every ar-
gument to induce him to become a sober and industrious man. I offered
him every encouragement to do so, by promising to give him employ-
ment, and at the same time tried to convince him that if he could keep
sober and industrious, she would find it out, and would be glad to come
back to him.
" I suppose he stayed with me for an hour, and before he left, he be-
came softened, and promised to reform. After expressing an everlasting
obligation to me, he left.
" On the following Sunday, about noon, I was walking in the neigh-
borhood of the Exchange, and observing a crowd around a bulletin-
board in front of a printing-office, I crossed over, and judge of my sur-
prise when I read as follows r ' Horrid Murder ! Last evening, at nine
o'clock, a man named John C , a tailor by trade, followed his wife
into a house in Front Street, below South Street. She had been out in
the streets for a bucket of water ; he followed her up into the third story,
when he stabbed her in forty different places. The screams attracted
persons to the spot ; and when they attempted to take hold of him, he
with a long knife cut himself across the stomach, and died in a few min-
utes, having committed a double murder.' At the inquest held imme-
diately afterward, it was proved that he was under the influence of Rum.' 1 ' 1
I have witnessed scenes that have haunted me for
days. In company with a friend, I once called on a
man who had formerly been a gentleman of position,
but who was now living on an annuity of $500 per year
a comparative pittance saved fro'm the wreck of his
fortune. His wife was very ill. When we arrived,
we found the man drunk, sitting by the fire smoking,
and the wife lying dead on the miserable pallet in the
A FRIGHTFUL BLOW. 279
room. The drunkard was making a great noise, and
declaring she was not dead. The gentleman with me
laid his hand on him, and said:
" Now, you keep still ; your wife lies there dead,
and I will not permit this noise." *
The drunkard sprang to his feet, exclaiming:
" I'll let you see whether she is dead or not."
Before we could prevent, he sprang to the bedside,
and dealt on the upturned face of the dead woman a
terrific blow with his fist. Oh, I heard the sound of
that blow for weeks, at night and by day !
Rev. Charles Garrett, of Liverpool, tells us that he
saw a man, under whose ministry he once sat with
profit, in a low public-house, with his face blackened,
preaching some of his old sermons to degraded men
and dissolute women for twopence; while his wife,
refined, educated, and delicate, was struggling with
the newsboys for the last edition, that she might get
bread for her suffering children.
A poor creature, half naked, was dragged from
under the bench of a music hall, who proved to be a
clergyman of the Church of England, and one of the
best Greek scholars in the United Kingdom. He was
taken to the house of a good Samaritan, and kept there
four weeks. He would steal postage-stamps of his
benefactor to get drink; and when started again in
life, with a good suit of clothes, hat, boots, and all
necessary for respectability, he was seen ten days
after, ragged and wretched, asking for alms.
A gentleman was so reduced by drink as to bring
his aristocratic wife to one room. No furniture ; a heap
of rags in one corner, and an old box for a table.
When the gentleman whom I had sent visited them,
there was a cup of weak tea and a bit of dry bread on
* See Illustration, page 295.
280 A "GENTLEMAN" THIEF.
the box, and three orange-boxes turned up for seats.
There were the wife and six children; the youngest
fourteen days old; and that morning the husband and
father had stolen the last blanket they had, and sold it
for a shilling. Afterwards, when charity had helped
the family, and provided his poor boy with shoes, he
stole them in the night, and got drunk with the pro-
ceeds. He considered himself so much the gentleman,
that upon his complaining of having nothing to do,
when a situation was offered him as conductor on a
street-car, he refused, alleging that he never would
stoop to a menial occupation. But why try to record
cases that are unrecordable and innumerable?
How many of the victims of this vice are strug-
gling for freedom ! how earnestly they plead for help !
how eager they are to lay hold of any straw that will
help to save them, may be known by the despairing
cry coming up from the depths. Read this :
" My object in addressing these few lines to you is, to ask if you can
tell me how or by what means I am to do away with the excess of drink.
My medical man, knowing my habits, distinctly says that after accus-
toming myself to spirituous and other liquors for so many years, it would
be my death to give them up. My inclination is to sweep the use of
them away altogether. My appetite is so craving, that if I give them
up for one day, my life is not only rendered intolerable, but my nervous-
ness is so great, GREAT, as to completely crush out my inclinations to the
pleasures of this world.
" My means hitherto have been sufficiently ample to gratify my pas-
sion, or inordinate appetite, for strong drink ; but if this strong drink is
indulged in, my means cannot last. Would to God that you may be the
instrument enabling me to trample under foot drink that is already get-
ting master over me! I shall hear (God willing) your next discourse;
and I sincerely hope that you may be the means of converting a poor,
wretched, and intemperate man."
One cry among thousands. I have not the heart to
transcribe them.
How thoroughly we often condemn the drunkard,
VERSES BY A VICTIM. 283
considering him only reckless and wilful! Some may
be so; but did we know all the struggles and yearn-
ings to do better, all the aspirations in the lucid mo-
ments for a higher and nobler life, we would pity the
victims, rather than denounce them as reprobates.
Young men, who now despise the drunkard in his
weakness, God grant you may never be enchained
and enslaved by the fearful appetite which, gratified,
becomes at length a master-passion, and is a power
that can never be understood or explained. To grat-
ify it, men have sacrificed all that makes life desirable.
Look into the inner heart of many a drunkard, and
you will pity him.
A man of education, with whom I was brought in
contact, was a victim, and though he died miserably,
there was something in him at times very attractive.
From his manuscript in my possession are the follow-
ing portions of two little pieces he wrote. I omit
several stanzas, and begin with the fifth, upon an
"ODE TO THE DEPARTING YEAR.
"Old Year! what hast thou taught me?
Old Friend! what hast thou brought me?
What good or ill hast wrought me?
Hath bliss o'er-balanced pain?
What messages art bearing
For the Eternal's hearing,
At the last day's appearing?
Oh, questions wild and vain!
Since thy dim dawn, Old Year,
How much of hope and fear!
How many a bitter tear
Hath fallen from sorrow's eye!
How many lithe and bright,
Who hailed thee with delight,
Have bowed before Time's might,
And laid them down to die !
284 THE OLD YEAR.
Love hath been changed to hate ;
Friendship to formal state ;
Youth with its dreams elate
Its hopes how fondly cherished!
Hopes of renown, of fame,
Its ardent toils to claim
The glory of a name,
Each after each have perished.
Billow of time, sweep on!
Go, join the ages gone,
Where earth's sun never shone
To gild the shadowy shore ;
Farewell ! but not for aye ;
Thou'lt meet me on that day
When sun and stars decay,
And time shall be no more !
Yea, when the trump sounds clear,
When all the dead appear
Before the Judge severe ;
When heaven and earth shall flee;
Oh, then, Old Year! I feel
Conviction o'er me steal,
That thou, for woe or weal,
Wilt a 'swift witness' be!
Dead! the Old Year hath died!
The new one by my side
Stands in his jocund pride,
Heedless of woe or crime.
New Year! what dost thou bring
Upon thy radiant wing?
Methinks I hear thee sing
A glad ' To-morrow ' chime.
To-morrow, false to-morrow!
We consolation borrow,
Whilst suffering present sorrow,
From thy perpetual dawn!
Time bright time coming ever;
We wait, but greet thee never!
Fruitless each wild endeavor
To have thy veil withdrawn!
A "PACIFIC" RHYME. 285
Haste onward, Year, new-born;
I laugh, this natal morn,
Thy promises to scorn!
I scarcely welcome thee.
Past years are but past pains;
My years but galling chains,
Whose scars this heart retains ;
And such, too, thou wilt be! "
He was at my house at the time when the country
was deeply anxious to know the fate of the steamer
Pacific, many years ago, and he wrote the following.
I copy from his manuscript, which lies before me,
entitled,
"WHAT OF THE SHIP?
OR, SHIP WRECKS AND MIND WRECKS.
A 'PACIFIC* RHYME.
" There is gloom in each eye, and a tremor of lip,
As the question sounds dolefully, ' What of the ship? '
Through long days of doubt we have hoped, but in vain,
To see her return to her haven again.
And through each dark night we have longed for the morn,
For with every new dawning a new hope was born ;
Loving eyes gaze afar through the mists of their tears,
But no trace of the missing ' Pacific ' appears.
' Ah, she yet may be safe! ' lingers still on the lip;
For the heart of affection won't give up the ship.
Ran she foul of a berg? Did the ice-fields close round her?
Did she drift with the ' pack,' or at once did she founder?
'Midst the fogs of ' the Bank,' and the waves' ceaseless dash,
Was there heard, when ships met, a wild shriek and a crash?
And, crippled and staggering, still ploughs she the wave ;
Straining eyes from her deck seeking aught that might save?
Or in some sheltered cove of the isles of the West,
Hath she found, from the strife of the elements, rest?
Though such questions may hopefully leap from the lip,
The cry of suspense is still What of the ship? '
It is thus, ever thus, when some palpable woe
In the great city's heart robs the blood of its glow;
A public catastrophe all men deplore,
Though they heed not life's tragedy acting next door!
286 WHAT OF THE SHIP?
Even now, while anxiety, anguish, dismay,
Is felt for the fate of the steamship away,
There is near us full many a once gallant bark,
Drifting hopelessly on, or going down to death's dark!
Vessels straining and leaking ; and yet scarce a lip
Asks hopefully, anxiously ' What of the ship? '
For, oh! there are wrecks on humanity's sea,
More fearful than any on ocean can be !
Once with far-streaming pennons they floated along,
While hope lent its sunshine, and music its song ;
Ever cloudless the skies, ever azure the seas,
Ever favoring the currents, and joyous the breeze!
Passion hurried them on, and in beauty's bright smile
They basked on the shores of each Eden-like isle ;
And regarding life's voyage but pleasure's gay trip,
They abandoned the helm, nor thought ' What of the ship?'
And the wine-cup was filled, and again filled the bowl,
Till madness crept into the heart and the soul.
Care was flung to the winds ; hope ne'er whispered again ;
And pleasure, unmasked, showed the visage of pain!
On rushes the doomed one ; no pilot to guide,
As helmless, and chartless, he floats o'er the tide ;
Driving on, driving on, urged by passion's wild throes,
Ruined raving yet onward he recklessly goes.
To end with death's draught, what began with a sip;
And then fearful question ' Oh ! what of the ship? '
Aye, what of the ship? They are scouring the wave,
In hope the ' Pacific ' to find and to save ;
But what of the human wrecks? Shall we not send
To aid them in peril a brother a friend?
Forlorn and despised, on they drift to their doom,
O'er the world's raging sea, to their refuge the tomb!
Let them feel that, though tempest-tossed, shattered, distrest,
Hope its torch may relume, that they yet may be blest,
That smiles may yet play upon brow and on lip,
If the angel of Temperance but charters the ship! "
"Now read a few words from one who has escaped :
" I will not trouble you with a long account of my career in the ser-
vice of rum ; were I to do so it would fill, not one, but many sheets. I
am a young man, just entering my twenty-ninth year; thirteen years
BITTER RECOLLECTIONS. 287
ago I came to this city from the country to engage in business. I came
poor but honest, with the warning voice of a Christian mother (who had
gone home to that Saviour whom she loved) fresh in memory. Would
to God I had adhered to her counsels ; had I done so, rum would never
have crossed my lips. For nine years the prospects before me were bright
and promising. I enjoyed the respect and confidence of my employers,
and was beloved by all my friends ; but a dark cloud came over me,
which well-nigh proved my destruction.
"At the age of twenty-four, the seeds sown in the social circle began to
develop themselves (for it was in the society of friends that I was first
induced to touch the intoxicating cup). Oh, how little do friends think
when offering the wine-cup to the young man, that they may be planting
in him the seeds of a destruction that will ultimately consign him to an
eternity of woe! And here let me protest with yourself against that
accursed custom of social drinking, which is opening wide the flood-gates
of destruction, and educating young men by scores for the rum-shop.
The work of reformation must begin at home. Let men become teeto-
talers, bring up their sons the same, and banish from their homes all
that intoxicates ; then there is some hope for the rapid advancement of
the temperance cause. Take from the rum-seller his customers, and he
will soon abandon a business that fails to enrich him. Much as I now
love the temperance cause, and firm as is my determination to adhere to
it, looking to God for strength to sustain me, my heart bleeds for it when
I look around and see the stumbling-blocks thrown in its way by the
so-called politeness of society.
" From the social circle I took to the bar-room, where I drank with
friends and acquaintances. From this point my course was downward.
I would give worlds to-day, did I possess them, could I wipe out forever
the bitter recollections of the past. For more than four years rum held
me its slave. In that time I lost my situation in business ; all my friends,
with a few exceptions, deserted me, and gave me up as hopeless. On
my last spree I put up at an hotel, kept out of the way of my friends, and
for four weeks was constantly drunk ; ate scarcely anything, drank in-
cessantly; sleep was to me a stranger, except when rendered totally
unconscious by liquor. All the energies of my waking moments were
concentrated in the maddening desire for drink. A friend found me at
a fortunate moment ; had I remained a day longer as I was, the hand
that pens these lines would this day be mouldering back to its mother
earth, and over the sod that covered me might have been written 'A
Drunkard's Grave.'
"My friend took me to his home and nursed me through a spell of
sickness that brought me to the brink of the grave. I had an attack of
delirium tremens. I need not detail to you the horrid sufferings I passed
through you know too well its horrors ; your own description of this
horrid disease is true to the letter, for I have experienced it all. God
mercifully spared my life and restored me to health. Blessed be His
18
288 WHAT IS TO BE DCXN^J?
name ! When I did recover, there was one fixed and determined resolu-
tion formed, that was to cast from me forever the firebrand that had
been consuming my very vitals. Five months have now rolled round
since that time in which I have adhered strictly to my resolve."
I thank God for the rescued, but with all our efforts
the disease is spreading; and being so constantly
brought in contact with the results, must be my ex-
cuse, no, I will not erase the word " excuse," I
need no excuse for speaking or writing, the iron
has entered my soul, and, as sitting in my library, I
recall the past and remember the scenes I have looked
upon, the harrowing facts that have come under my
own observation, I feel ashamed that the thought of
an apology entered my mind for one moment.
The question ought to arise, What is to be done?
What can I do to stem this awful tide? To quote
the words of an eloquent speaker:
"Are we to pass from chamber to chamber of this great temple of
abominations, and look at what we see, as though it were a cabinet of
curiosities, and gaze coldly on all these scenes of shame and horror that
are painted on its walls ; or are we to be aroused by these facts merely
to talk the vague language of philanthropy, and to sigh over wretched-
ness, while we do not so much as lift a single finger to help the
wretched? "
This whole country ought to be flooded with facts.
Let us have committees formed to investigate. Have
we no men of standing with patriotism sufficient to
move them to some sacrifice that they may ascertain
more fully the extent of this evil? In Birmingham,
England, one Saturday night, Major Bond, superin-
tendent of police, had thirty-five public-houses watched
for three hours, and on the average each house turned
out twenty-five drunken people, or a total of eight
hundred and seventy-five within three hours. The
NO EXAGGERATION. 289
people were startled by such a revelation; but such a
disclosure cannot be made without self-sacrifice.
One great agency in obtaining the Sunday Closing
Bill for Scotland was the persevering efforts of in-
dividuals to obtain just such statistics with regard to
Sunday drinking; and when the police failed to do
the work, or were not permitted by the authorities,
many gentlemen of high standing took the work upon
themselves, and, in spite of insults from those inter-
ested in the traffic, continued the work, and scattered
broadcast the results of their efforts, until the people
were frightened at the revelation.
These are the statistics that the people are forced
to accept. The cry of " exaggeration " fails to affect
them. I have heard men ridicule the idea of 50,000
drunkards dying each year in the United States. Let
us have a thorough investigation, and we shall find
that it is simple fact.
Dr. Farre, of England, who has evinced the oppo-
site of favor to teetotalers and to teetotalism, has
confessed to 53,000 annual alcoholic deaths in the
United Kingdom, with a population 14,000,000 less
than in the United States; they expend 140,000,000
pounds sterling (or about 700,000,000 dollars), and
we $750,000,000, with our greater population, every
year on drink. The same terrible results are to be
seen the world over.
CHAPTER XX.
" SECRETS " AND " TRICKS " OF THE LIQUOR TRADE.
A GLANCE BEHIND THE SCENES.
Rum is Rum the World over Drunken Mohammedan is said to have
"gone to Jesus" Speech of Canon Farrar Ludicrous Side of the
Question The Connoisseurs of Liquors Wine-Drinkers hum-
bugged The Secret of Success in the Manufacture of Liquors
Ingredients How "Imported Cognac Brandy" is made How
Schiedam Schnapps and Common Gin are made Champagne Re-
ceipt " Native Catawba Wines " made without Grapes " Fine Old
Port" Receipts for making Porter "Ale" good to sleep on; how
made To the Uninitiated How to bottle neatly Sugar of Lead
as a Sweetener Filthiness no Hindrance to the Drinker The
Effect of these Revelations The Slaves of Fashion.
jLCOHOL, the product of civilization,
has become the curse of civilization.
It accompanies the first rude settlers
on the desolate frontiers, as a curse;
it follows in the wake of, or precedes
the pioneer of Christianity in the des-
erts of heathenism, as a hindrance.
The missionary finds it the greatest ob-
stacle to his work. It is the universal
testimony that the introduction of alcoholic drinks
among pagan nations has been an unmitigated curse
to the population. By it the Indian of our own
country has been swindled, deceived, and reduced far
290
THEY ARE CHRISTIANS. 291
below the original state in which he was first known
to civilization.
I have letters from many parts of the world, the
same story, whether from civilized Europe or pagan
Africa; whether from Asia, with its millions of Ori-
entals, or from our own country, and we know what
it is, and what it has been to us.
In a letter from Australia the writer says : " Intoxi-
cating drink is the curse of our young colon}^."
The following facts are from a letter received from
a British officer in India. After saying that the Mo-
hammedans are abstemious and do not drink intoxi-
cating liquors, as a rule, the writer says :
" The remark is often made by the natives, when
they see a Mohammedan drunk, * He has left Moham-
med and gone to Jesus.' r
On one occasion, while he was urging a native to
examine the claims of Christianity, two drunken Eng-
lish soldiers passed.
" See," said the native, " do you wish me to be like
that? As a Mohammedan, I could not; as a Chris-
tian, I might."
At a ball given by the officers a request was made
to the general that rations of spirits should be served
to the military band. The general objected, on the
ground that they were Mohammedans. The reply
was, " No ; they are Christians ; " and the spirits were
ordered.
This is the evil we mourn over. Shall we do no
more? Many tell us we exaggerate, or select the
worst cases. Again I say, let such investigate. Par-
don me, if I give a short extract from a speech of
Canon Farrar in the Sheldonian Theatre, Oxford, a
place which, twenty years ago, no one could have
292 CANON FAERAE.
imagined would ever be opened for a temperance
lecture; the very proposal would have been hailed
with a shout of incredulous derision. He says:
" Gentlemen : I look around me, not here in England only, but also
through all the world, over dependencies upon which the sun never sets,
and I see the frightful, the intolerable evidences of the devastation
wrought by one fatal sin the sin of drunkenness ; and that sin caused
by one fatal product alcohol diluted in intoxicating drinks. I am
unable, I have not the heart, to-day, to touch on one-tenth or one-hun-
dredth part of the proofs which demonstrate to every serious mind at all
acquainted with the facts, the awful importance of this question. Focus
the lurid gleams which flash upwards from this pit of destruction, and
you will see how frightful is the glare. Track the subterranean ramifi-
cations of this evil, and you will see how the whole nation, the whole
empire, is undermined ; how every tread we take is over fire, ever burst-
ing through the treacherous ashes.
" It is matter not of assertion, but of sternest demonstration, that the
drink traffic causes the most amazing waste of our national resources ;
that to it are due, mainly and almost exclusively, the worst phenomena
of pauperism ; that it causes seventy-five per cent, of those melancholy
cases of domestic ruin which fill our police courts : that it contributes
enormously, both directly and indirectly, to the hideous social evil ; that
but for it, on the testimony of nearly every judge on the bench, crimes
of violence would well-nigh disappear ; that it is the cause, both directly
and indirectly, of a most terrible mortality ; that it chokes our prisons,
mad-houses, and penitentiaries ; that it creates an hereditary taint which
makes life a curse to a stunted population; that because of it, thousands,
ay, tens of thousands, of miserable men, and yet more miserable women,
and poor little children, most miserable of all, lead lives of such squalor
and anguish, as only they who have witnessed can conceive ; that it dev-
astates the humanity, and blights the bodies and the souls, not only of
600,000 drunkards, but of the millions which their ruin drags down to
shame ; that it frustrates our religious efforts at home ; that it destroys
and ruins our mission efforts abroad ; that it is the chief bane and ruin
of our homes ; that it is the darkest stain on the glory and prosperity of
our nation.
" Exaggeration, gentlemen ! There is not one word of this indictment
which is not true to the letter ; not one word of it which is not capable
of the most rigorous proof which evidence can establish and statistics
contain. And unless it be exaggeration to say twilight when we mean
midnight, then it is none to say the blackness of its darkness could only
be represented in such colors as when some mighty painter dips his
pencil in the hues of earthquake and eclipse. Those who know nothing
STARTLING STATEMENTS. 293
whatever about the subject those who are so unhappy as to be blinded
by the possession, in some shape or other, of a share, or a freehold, or
an interest in the production or the sale of that which is the cause of all
this iniquity may call this impeachment exaggerated ; but they have
never shaken, they have never even attempted to shake, the damning
evidence on which it is founded, and to which concur, with startling
unanimity, the testimony of every person, and every class of persons,
that has in any way studied or come across the subject. That evidence
has been produced in the most public way, and in every possible way,
again and again ; it has been produced before committees of the House
of Lords, and before committees of the House of Commons ; it has been
gathered for the Northern House of Convocation, and the Southern
House of Convocation ; it has been collected by statesmen, and collected
by political economists; it has been furnished from sources the most
opposite and the most unsuspected ; it is derived from clergymen and
from judges, from jailers and from policemen, from the heads of work-
houses and asylums, from physicians and from publicans ; and it stands
not only unshaken, but absolutely unchallenged. And more than this,
it is constantly admitted, at unguarded moments, by the very agents and
the very writers who detest teetotalers, and who leave no stone unturned
to defeat Sir W. Lawson, and to overthrow the Alliance. Language
which, if used by a temperance reformer, would be angrily set aside as
exaggerated, is quite freely used at unsuspected turns by such grave
and moderate organs as the ' Quiver,' the ' Standard,' and the ' Quarterly
Review.' "
Though the consequences of drinking are so terri-
ble, yet when we turn to a certain class of drinkers,
there is something ludicrous in their assumptions of
importance and style, and their pride in being consid-
ered connoisseurs of the various brands of liquors
they consume. There is no class in this country so
swindled and humbugged as the wine and spirit
drinkers; and the wonder of all is, that they know
they are cheated. How many in this country do you
suppose think for a moment that they are drinking
what the label or brand on their bottle purports it to
be? The gentleman who drinks his "fine old port"
must know that there is more " fine old port " sold in
New York than there is made, purely from grapes, in
all the region professedly the port-wine region. He
294 TRANSPARENT HUMBUG.
will submit to such barefaced swindling in reference
to no other article he uses.
I have good authority for this statement, that,
"Of the port shipped for the English market as
vintage wine, from nine months to two years old, at
least two-thirds is manufactured or adulterated in
Oporto."
In a book which I obtained with some difficulty,
entitled " The Manufacture of Liquors, Wines, &c.,
without the aid of distillation, arranged and prepared
expressly for the trade," the author says : " For bars,
hotels, &c., the following directions will insure a sav-
ing of from forty to two hundred and fifty per cent,
per gallon, and the most critical examination will
scarcely detect the genuine, a chemical test alone
being able to indicate the difference of the one from
the other." And again : " The great secret of success
in the manufacture of liquor consists in imparting to
the imitation the precise aroma of the genuine, and
thus obtain an article as near reality as possible, at a
far less cost." I give his list of articles used for the
manufacture of these liquors. "Neutral spirit: When
alcohol is cleansed of grain-oil, it is then called neu-
tral spirit. Tartaric, citric, and sulphuric acids, alum,
amylic alcohol, or fusil-oil, heavy oil of wine, ammo-
nia, ambergris, sweet and bitter almonds, oils of sweet
and bitter almonds, cardamom, bone-black, namely,
animals' bones burnt and ground, balsam of Peru,
catechu, caustic potassa, cubebs, slippery-elm bark,
.eggs for fining, sulphuric, nitric, and butyric ether,
flax-seed, grape-sugar, flour, gamboge, gentian, honey,
molasses, oak-bark, oatmeal, long, cayenne, and black
pepper, pellitory and grains of paradise (powerful
acrimonious substances used for giving false strength
IMPORTED COGNAC? 297
to liquors), tinctures of musk and tolu, snake-root,
sweet spirits of nitre, tea, quassia, olive-oil, oils of
caraway, cloves, cedar, juniper, lavender, lemon,
mace, rosemary, roses, sassafras and wintergreen,
creosote and turpentine." These are all used for the
manufacture of liquor; and for the coloring, the
author gives " alkanet root, red beets, Brazil wood,
cochineal, indigo, logwood, red sanders wood, and
saffron."
How absurd it is to see men drinking their cognac
brandy and boasting of its purity, " for it is * im-
ported.' ' I have before me a method for giving age
to new casks, and branding barrels and casks with
marks that are not exactly cystom-house. Let us see
how your brandy is made, though perhaps I should
say other people's brandy. First, the French method,
practised in France:
" Clean spirit, containing 50 per cent, of alcohol, 100 gallons ; honey,
7 gallons, dissolved in 3 gallons of water, having first bruised l\ ounces
of cochineal and allowed it to macerate in the water for a few days.
Then add 8 ounces of catechu, 5 gallons of rum, 12 ounces of acetic
ether, then add clean burnt sugar ; color to suit the fancy or the particu-
lar market it is intended for."
This is your " pure " French imported cognac
brandy. Now we will see how cognac is manufac-
tured here:
" 25 gallons of whiskey, 14 gallons of water, 1 gallon tincture of pep-
per, 1^ gallons of strong tea, 6 drops of oil of orange dissolved in a wine-
glass of alcohol, 1 pound of acetic ether ; color with burnt sugar or san-
ders wood." Note: "This can be made at from 12 to 20 cents per gal-
lon, according to the price of wliiskey, 20 cents per gallon being the
estimated price."
Hurrah for the swindle! Who are the biggest
fools, those who will not touch the stuff, or those
who are cheate'd with their eyes open?
298 "GENUINE CHAMPAGNE."
Some prefer Schiedam schnapps to cognac. How
is it made?
" Common gin* 30 gallons, strained honey 4 gallons, water 2 gal-
lons, sulphuric acid 1 ounce, sweet spirits of nitre 8 ounces, spirit of
nitric ether 3 ounces, 10 drops of oil of wintergreen dissolved in 2 ounces
of acetic ether."
The comment after the receipt, is, " Really a fine
liquor, and cheaply made." When I observe gentle-
men, and often ladies, ordering wine at the hotel,
looking so very wisely over the list, and gravely
choosing champagne as the most fashionable wine
for drinking, I am very much inclined to laugh,
while I am saddened at what may be the result of
their folly.
Champagne ! Let me give you a receipt for mak-
ing champagne genuine champagne ; for while you
know there is more champagne bought, sold, and
drank in New York than there is manufactured of the
pure article in the world, you whether at home or
abroad, in Paris, London, Berlin, or New York
always obtain " genuine champagne." Here's the re-
ceipt:
" Fifty gallons of water, 2 gallons of honey, 5 ounces of bruised gin-
ger, 5 ounces of ground mustard. Boil this mass 30 minutes, add a quart
of yeast, and let it ferment from 10 to 14 days. Add 6 ounces of bitter
almonds bruised, spirits and grains of paradise to suit convenience. The
more spirit the champagne possesses the greater will be its body. For
coloring, use cochineal half an ounce to the 50 gallons."
There you have it, and in addition we have the
direction for bottling, laying on the Dutch metal, and
* The receipt for making common gin is 25 gallons of clear whiskey,
water 10 gallons, oil of juniper dissolved in a gill of alcohol (sometimes
a small portion of turpentine is added), 1 gallon of grains of paradise of
double strength, fine, with alum.
CATAWBA AND SHERRY. 299
printing and placing the labels to prove that you get
it pure and genuine, direct from any firm you choose
to select. Oh, I forgot for pink champagne add
" a little more cochineal."
"Ah," say you, "but I only drink native wines,
sparkling Catawba." Well, here you have it:
" Receipt for Sparkling Catawba : 100 pounds of raisins, 35 gallons of
sweet cider, 100 gallons of water, 3 pints of yeast; ferment for 12 days;
then add 12 gallons of honey, 12 gallons of clean spirit, 1 grain of amber-
gris rubbed well with 2 ounces of sugar ; then 4 gallons of Jamaica rum,
12 ounces of orris-root, and fine the whole with 3 quarts of boiled milk
added while hot."
Very fine sparkling Catawba!
" Well," say some, " I only drink claret." Here you
have the receipt:
"Claret Vin de Bordeaux: Five gallons of boiled cider, 2 gallons of
spirit, 5 gallons of water, 2 ounces of powdered catechu, or 2 drops of
sulphuric acid to the gallon to suit the taste. Color with tincture of log-
wood."
Do you prefer sherry?
" Ten gallons of cider, 4 ounces of bitter almonds, 1 gallon of honey,
4 ounces of mustard. Boil for 30 minutes; then add one-half pint of
spirit of orris-root, 2 ounces essence of cassia, 3 quarts of rum."
Then we have this additional piece of information:
" Jamaica rum is preferable, as this wine is often pre-
pared for the auctions, but the amount of spirit be-
comes an important item, owing to its cost; therefore
when this is kept in view, tincture of grains of para-
dise should be substituted for spirits."
But here is the receipt for the port which is used so
freely by the gentlemen of the old school, who " al-
ways get the best," the port prescribed so freely by
physicians, who should not dare to tamper with any del-
eterious substance without knowing something of the
300 GOOD POET WINE.
ingredients, and who are bound to get it pure. I only
ask, when the country is flooded with such stuff as is
sold for " port wine " (and the manufacturers whisper
that we cannot tell the difference between that and
the genuine), how do these doctors, who so freely
prescribe, know what they give to their patients? I
give you a receipt for making " good port wine " :
" Twenty gallons of cider, 2 gallons of honey, 12 ounces of carbonate
of soda, 1 gallons strong tincture grains of paradise, 5 ounces of pow-
dered catechu. Color with logwood or burnt sugar. A small portion of
spirit would improve it. The carbonate of soda is to neutralize the acid
in the cider, which, if allowed to remain, would present too large a pro-
portion of acid for good port."
How careful they are that drinkers shall have "good
port!"
In addition to these receipts, published "for the
trade," are receipts for manufacturing seven kinds
of brandy, besides the cognac, some of which might
frighten you, seven kinds of whiskey, two kinds of
gin, five kinds of rum, and ten different kinds of
wine.
Now, to the porter and ale drinkers we have some-
thing to say. The following is a receipt for making
porter :
" Boil 3 quarts of wheat bran, 1J pounds of hops, and 8 ounces of
bruised ginger, in 12 gallons of water, for one hour. Then strain
through flannel, and, while warm, add 2 gallons of molasses, 1 quart of
yeast, half a pint of brandy-coloring, and half a gallon of tincture of
grains of paradise, which will be formed by digesting 8 ounces of the
grain in half a gallon of whiskey."
If you prefer ale, here's a receipt:
" 4 pounds of brown sugar, 1 pound of hops, 2 ounces of quassia, and
12 gallons of water. Boil for three-quarters of an hour. Then add 1
gallon of molasses, 1 pint of yeast, and continue the fermentation until
the froth ceases to rise on the surface. Then add half a gallon of tine-
BOTTLED ALE. 301
ture of grains of paradise, and strain through flannel. Add 3 ounces of
butyric ether, and boil immediately"
To avoid the costly price of hops, the small dealer
of ale and porter, as a substitute for the bitter of the
hops, makes use of quassia, nux vomica, or strych-
nine, aloes, catechu, pellitory, long pepper, worm-
wood, gentian; and for a false strength similar to
alcohol, uses cocculus indicus, copperas, and grains of
paradise.
The following receipt for giving strength and body
tp beer and ale is given:
" 2 pounds of quassia, 2 pounds of gentian braised, 1 pound of aloes,
10 gallons of water. Boil to 5 gallons. Then add 1 pound of copperas,
and boil to 4 gallons. Add this to the ale to suit the taste."
I will conclude with the following interesting state-
ment to the uninitiated : " It may be necessary to state,
for the benefit of the uninitiated reader, when and how
this kind of porter and ale is disposed of to form a re-
munerative investment. This consists in bottling and
labelling this fluid with neatness. The labels should
be obtained from the lithographers, and should be ex-
ecuted in the highest style of art. The same articles
are sold under the names of London porter, Scotch
ale, India pale ale, pineapple ale, &c., &c.; and the
ale receives all the names of the different varieties of
that article that have acquired any celebrity in com-
merce. The bottles are packed in barrels or boxes,
and are disposed of at auction. This ale is usually
manufactured at a cost varying from four to eight
cents per gallon."
"It is not an unusual occurrence in commerce to
meet with porter (or so called) that has been made
from the fermentation of molasses, yeast, and water.
302 POISONED PORTER.
This, after becoming sufficiently acidulated from fer-
mentation, has the further progress of the fermenta-
tion checked by the addition of alcohol, and a small
portion of ground mustard-seed. It is then strength-
ened with aloes, pellitory, pepper, quassia, catechu,
and burnt sugar, and has a rough, bitter, acidulous
taste, and leaves a disagreeable after-taste in the
mouth."
A gentleman writes me: "About a year ago, a
dealer in paints told me that a man came in to pur-
chase sugar of lead. He had none, except some that
was rather dirty, which he alluded to. The purchaser
said it would suit his purpose ; he did not want it to
mix with paints as a dryer, but to sweeten sour
wine."
Now, to what end is this revelation? What effect
will it produce? Very little, if any, to prevent
some men and women from drinking. Those who
have the appetite, and are determined to gratify it,
will not be deterred from drinking by a knowledge
of the poison or the nastiness of the liquor which
they crave. Men have been known to drink alcohol
out of bottles containing specimens of vile things,
snakes, scorpions, &c.; have been known to drink
the spirits in which a corpse has been washed; to
drink camphor, cologne, camphine, anything however
vile, offensive, or filthy, containing the alcohol to
start the stagnant blood in the diseased vessels of
the stomach.
Many who are the slaves of fashion, who drink be-
cause they are afraid to refuse, will pooh, pooh, such
revelations, and profess not to believe; and so all that
we can say, all the flood of light that can be thrown
on the subject, fails to convince sufficiently to induce
WARN, ENTREAT, SAVE. 303
the people to abstain. So the manufacturer and
dealer, rolling in his wealth, or striving to make
money, can laugh us to scorn in all our attempts to
reveal the truth to the victims either of appetite or
custom. But whether men hear, or whether they
forbear, God helping us, we shall do our best to
warn, entreat, and save.
CHAPTER XXI.
SOME OF MY EXPERIENCES WITH BKAZEN-FACED
PEOPLE.
The Life of a Public Man Peculiar Annoyances Kind Treatment of
the Press " Interviewing " An Unfortunate Little Notice "John
B. Gough lying dangerously ill " Mistakes in reporting Lectures
Amusing Specimen Applications for Help Begging Letter-Writ-
ers Tramps preferable to these Extracts from Begging-Letters
Young Man's Strange Request for Fifteen Hundred Dollars Re-
quest for One Thousand Dollars What the Lord is reported to have
said One Thousand Dollars wanted to educate two Nieces "I am
taken in " Notes and Promises to Pay A New Method A Cu-
rious Plan of Professionals Begging " Mediums " Letter purport-
ing to come from my Mother An Incident in Scotland.
is in the life of a public man, es-
pecially of one who is constantly before
the people, a monotony of change, when
the necessity for constant travel be-
comes exceedingly wearisome, and the
mere thought of rest is a comfort. Still
there are compensations in the knowl-
edge that your aim is to make men better,
and that you are not absorbed in the selfish
ambition that seeks your own, independent of other's
welfare; and again, in the delightful associations that
ripen into life-long friendships, and the companion-
ship of the good, the true, and the pure the very
nobility of humanity.
Every public man is often exposed to annoyances,
304
LIBERALITY OF THE PRESS. 305
some serious in themselves; some more trifling, yet
serious in their results ; while others are almost im-
perceptible to sight or touch, like the red bug of the
south, inserting its almost infinitesimal self under
the skin to irritate and inflame; or the mosquito of
the north, that persistently hums his defiance in your
ear, till you wish he would bite, and end the music.
In speaking of annoyances, I have no desire to
complain; but if the relation of some of them may
induce any who unintentionally annoy to be more
thoughtful, this will not be a wasteful expenditure of
tune or paper.
Far be it from me to criticise or speak unkindly of
the press, for I have been most kindly treated by
newspapers for thirty-eight years. Seldom in all that
time have I received an unfair criticism from any re-
spectable paper, much less any personal injustice. I
have been criticised, and occasionally with a sharpness
that made me wince; but I have endeavored to profit
by every criticism, so far as has been in my power.
Every public man must acknowledge to have been
occasionally treated unfairly by one portion of the
press, that can hardly lay claim to respectability. In
the United States and in Great Britain, most kind
and liberal notices have been given of my work,
although I have never asked for a notice; and only
twice in thirty years have I been in an editor's office,
besides having never once sent a press-notice to the
committees employing me, though often urged to do
so. All the kind notices and they have been many
have been entirely voluntary on the part of the
press, and never sought by me.
One annoyance is experienced in the system of
interviewing. No statement made of a man's per-
19
306 AN INTERVIEWEE.
sonal history or opinions should ever be published,
without submitting it to his perusal and revision; for
one word, either in addition or subtraction, may make
a tremendous difference in the whole meaning.
I remember but one occasion when I could fairly
state that I was interviewed, and then I was so sadly
misrepresented that it made a former friend a strong
enemy, and put me so wrongly before a large section
of tempeiance reformers, that I have not been fully
righted up to the present time.
A gentleman called on me at the hotel where I was
stopping, in a "Western city. The conversation was
in substance this:
" I wish to get your opinion on the women's tem-
perance crusade. What do you think of it? "
" I have seen scarcely anything of it, and am not
qualified to give an opinion without further knowl-
edge of the work. From what I have heard, I should
judge it to be a new departure which promises to
wake the people up to some interest on the ques-
tion."
" What do you think of the women praying and
singing in the street?"
" With regard to that, I am rather dubious, and
should hardly like to give any opinion. I have not
seen that phase of the women's work; but it seems to
me I should hardly like to see my wife or sister
singing and praying in the saloons, or in the public
streets."
" Do you not think Mr. is a mere sensation-
alist? "
" As to that, I can only say I have not the dread of
sensationalism that afflicts many very good people. I
think we need something to waken us up ; and I do
INCORRECT STATEMENT. 307
not object to, but rather welcome, some excitement.
I certainly prefer a little sensationalism to the dull,
heavy apathy, that is so hard to interest. As for
Mr. 's sensationalism, I know nothing about it.
I believe he has been very enthusiastic in his advo-
cacy of the women's crusade."
This, I think, was all I said of importance; and
when I saw in the morning paper the report of the
interview, I felt my cheek burn, for I at once saw that
it would put me in a false light before the people who
might read it, and was an injustice to a man who was
my friend. This was the report of the interview:
" Mr. Gough is not very much in favor of the
women's crusade. With regard to the praying and
singing in the streets, Mr. Gough would not like to see
his wife or sister doing such work; and his opinion is
that Mr. is a mere sensationalist."
I received many letters of inquiry, and found my-
self compelled publicly to take a position decidedly
for or against the women's work; and after becom-
ing acquainted with and interested in it, attending
some of their meetings, I was rejoiced most emphati-
cally to approve their efforts, which I did continually
in every speech, when I could consistently introduce
it. The mistake of the " interviewer " caused me
some annoyance.
On another occasion, the wrong done to me, or
perhaps I should say, the inconvenience to which I
was subjected, arose from an incorrect statement made
to an interviewer by a gentleman who I know would
never willingly have caused me any annoyance; and
if his statement had been submitted to me, I would
gladly have revised it ; but the article was extensively
published, with no revision. Several of the answers
308 RESULTS OF MISTAKES.
to the interviewer's questions were quite correct, some
of them slightly incorrect, but of no material conse-
quence; but there was one assertion that was made
on no authority but a supposition, that "John B.
Gough has an annuity, and is worth $100,000 ; " a
statement of no particular importance to any one; to
me it would have been very gratifying if true; but
the fact is, I have no annuity, and am not worth in
available property one-half the sum stated.
" Well, how can such a report injure you? "
Only by the annoyance of being compelled to refuse
applicants for help. They have come, since that item
was published, from all quarters of this country, from
persons who never saw me, from remote places I have
never visited, and for sums varying from $1,200 to
" what you think }^ou can afford." These applications
are generally prefaced by the announcement that they
have read in the papers so and so. The item was
published in an English paper; and from the other
side of the Atlantic I have received several appli-
cations for help on the ground of being possessor of
20,000 and an annuity. On another page I shall
speak fully, and give my opinion of these beggars.
At one time, in the midst of a season's work, I was
taken ill at Scranton, Pa. The physician said it was
a severe cold, and I must rest a few days, or it might
develop into pneumonia. So I gave up two appoint-
ments, and remained in Scranton from Friday till
Tuesday. On "Wednesday I commenced work again;
and, while travelling to an appointment on the Thurs-
day, saw in a daily paper this item of news: "John
B. Gough is lying dangerously ill at Scranton."
That small item cost me several dollars, and gave me
much annoyance. First came the telegrams to the
ANNOYING MISTAKES. 309
Bureau, inquiring if I should be able to meet my en-
gagements, or would they furnish another lecturer in
my place; then letters to me forwarded from Scran-
ton ; and in several instances I was told on my arrival
at the town to fill my appointment, " We cannot sell
the tickets, for the people do not believe you will
come, as the item stating your illness has been copied
into our paper; and we must get out extra handbills
announcing your arrival, and that you will lecture
this evening." Thus that unfortunate little notice
plagued me, and diminished my audiences for more
than a week.
I mention one other annoyance, and that may be
considered a very small one, but the small things
are sometimes the most perplexing, just as a small
hair in the nostril will irritate worse than a pain, and
the tickle of a feather may cause convulsions if per-
severed in, and a drop of water constantly falling on
the head may produce madness. I refer to the mis-
takes in reporting what is said in a lecture, very often
quite absurd so much so that no possible harm can
be done by them. At other times the mistake in a
word may completely alter the tone or meaning of
the whole sentence, and we are reported as stating
views directly the opposite of our convictions and
former utterances.
But some things, to use the New England expres-
sion, " are too funny for anything." I give you one
from a report of a five-columns speech in an English
paper. I had said :
" Come with me to the Yosemite Valley. Yonder stands El Capitan,
a mile away ; it seems so near you could strike it with a stone. Approach
it nearer nearer. How it grows and widens and looms up! Nearer yet
nearer. See those shrubs ! Shrubs? They are trees, one hundred feet
in height and three to four feet in diameter. See that dent hi the face of
310 RIDICULOUS REPORT.
the rock. That is a fissure seventy -five feet deep. Soon you stand un-
der the shadow of El Capitan. A plumb line from the summit will fall
fifty feet from its base. Now look up up up thirty-six hundred
feet right up. How grand! Two-thirds of a mile. A perpendicular
rock. There it stands, anchored in the valley, seared and seamed with
the storms of centuries. Your nerves thrill, your lips quiver, and your
eyes till with tears. You are impressed with the grandeur and sublimity
of the magnificent surroundings. You feel your own littleness, that you
are but as the small dust of the balance in comparison, and remember
that the inhabitants of the earth are but as grasshoppers in His sight,
who is the great Creator."
This is a description not worth much perhaps, but
it is better than the report which I copy from the
paper that lies before me :
"Come with me to the great Yosemill Valley in California. The
land will rise before you miles and miles away. But approach it nearer
and nearer. How the land looms up before you ! See in the distance a
shrub. No; it is a tree, twenty feet high and three or four feet in diame-
ter. Come nearer yet. There's a dent yonder. No ; it is a fissure in the
rock seventy-five feet deep. There is El Capo, thirty-six hundred feet
from the base to the summit. Stand and look up at the inhabitants on
the top of it, and they appear no bigger than grasshoppers, and the peo-
ple look down on you as the small dust of the balance."
That is verbatim. In the same report were sev-
eral absurd things, but this was the most ridiculous.
Another annoyance is the increasing number of
begging letter-writers. When in England twenty-
five years ago I boasted that I knew nothing in
America of the system of writing begging-letters, so
prominent there ; but I really think we can now fairly
challenge competition in that line with any country in
the world. I rather think it is an imported nuisance
and not indigenous to the soil of America.
A tramp who comes to my house and tells me he
wants food or money, or help of any kind, is prefera-
ble to the whining, begging letter- writer. The tramps
are not half so rasping to me as is the writer of a let-
ter from which I give an extract:
BEGGING LETTERS. 311
" Having heard that you were a very benevolent man, and knowing
you were not a poor man, for I saw it stated in the paper the other day
the amount of your income, I make bold to ask you a favor. My folks
are respectable, though not very well off, and I wish to go to a music
school for three years. My father has a rich uncle, whom I wrote to
help me, but he thought himself too poor. The cost will be 500 dol-
lars a year. I wish you would send me a check for 500 dollars for three
years, or a check at once for 1500 dollars. Pardon my boldness, but I
do so much wish to go, etc., etc.
"P. S. A check payable to bearer."
I will not copy long extracts, but give a few of the
cases. One writes:
" You talk of serving the Lord. You will serve Him by helping me.
I want $1000 to get a home."
Another:
" I asked the Lord where I should get $100, and He whispered your
name. Now if you go to the Lord, perhaps He'll tell you to send it
to me."
Another :
" If you only knew how happy $100 would make me, you would send
it, for you are abundantly able."
Again :
" I want $1000 to educate two nieces, and I write to you."
The most annoying class among the so-called re-
spectable beggars are those who apply to you person-
ally, and by appeals to your sympathy obtain money
they never mean to repay.
A young American in England begged me to lend
him IQ for a passage home. He could be sent home
by steerage, but he could not endure a steerage pas-
sage; spoke of his relatives, and said, "I can give
you an order on my mother." The money was lent
and two pounds additional for some comforts for the
voyage. The order on his mother was given. I have
it now. When the gentleman reached this country he
had the coolness to write me not to present the order
NEVER MEAN TO PAY.
to his mother, as it would be of no use, for she had no
money, and that is the last of that transaction. Over
and over again have I declared I will lend no more
money to persons unknown to me; but they make
such fair promises that I think " this must be a real
case," and, like Mr. Hartop, " I am taken in."
These people, many of them, never intend to repay.
I write as a sufferer ; for from 1845, when they began
on me, till now, the game has been going on, a
losing one for me, for I have notes and promises to-
pay to an amount that would hardly be believed of
one in my circumstances. All I can say is, that the
amount might be put down in five figures, and the
figure five at the head of the sum, not one penny of
which amount do I ever expect to receive; for of all
the loans I have made and they are hundreds
I have received only in four or five cases the amounts
borrowed.
I would not utter one word to discourage the benev-
olent in giving to real objects of charity, for I have
given freely to such; but it is the regular harpy who
thrives on the benevolence of those who possess
means, or it is the young man and the number of
this class is increasing who depends, not on his
own exertions, but on the help he can obtain from
others, for a start in life. The whining cry, " I want
a little help," from able-bodied, healthy young men
who are not ready to endure hardship and some pri-
vation to make their way in the world, is contemptible.
I sometimes think of adopting a plan to shame these
beggars, if they have any shame left; and that is, to
publish in a pamphlet the letters, with their names,
and circulate it through the country, and offer their
notes for sale at a discount.
ATTENDED TO " IMMEGERTELY." 313
A very curious plan adopted by some of these pro-
fessionals is to take advantage of the credulity of
their intended victims. I give portions of a letter
received, purporting to come from my mother, who
has been dead forty years.
Poor, dear woman ! she has forgotten how to spell,
for she writes that this letter is to be attended to
" immegertely : "
" John, I, your mother, can speak to you through a
medium in Bath, Maine." (She seems to have learned
something of geography; for when she was a denizen
of this earth, I doubt if she knew there was such a
place as the above.) "You and this medium are
strangers; but if you will come to her, my dear boy,
I can convince you that I still live to enjoy my son's
prosperity." (No necessity to go to Maine to know
that the dear mother lives.) " Do not think or believe
your mother does not help you and bear you up,"
&c., &c. "John, my son, fear not; God has given
you great gifts, and He has given great gifts to the
one I am controlling to-day. I wish you would help
her to come out of her poor condition she is in. If
you knew what a gem she is, I know you would help
her. Come and see me. I, your mother, send this.
Come and talk to me through this medium. If you
feel disposed to help her, do. From your mother to
John."
This reminds me of an incident that occurred in
Scotland some years ago.
I was on the platform of a railway station waiting,
with my wife, for a train, when a gentleman ap-
proached me, looking very solemn, and said, rather
lugubriously:
314: "WE HAD A SEANCE."
" Mr. Gough, we have had a communication from
your dear mother."
"My mother?" I said; "why, she has been dead
these twenty years."
" Yes," he said ; " she is in the spirit land, and oh,
so happy! Would you not like to hear her mes-
sage?"
" That depends; how did you get your message?"
" We had a seance last evening, and communicated
with your dear mother. Would you not like to hear
her message?"
" ]STo ; I want to hear nothing about it. If my
mother, who knows I love her dearly and treasure
every little relic she left behind her, and who knows
that I would be glad to see her and hear her speak,
will not communicate with me except through me-
diums, and seances, and table-rappings by a parcel of
people who know nothing about her and care as little,
I do not wish to hear anything ; for I think my mother
must be deteriorated to descend to such tricks to
communicate with one who loves her as well as I do."
CHAPTER XXII.
AMUSING- EXPERIENCES WITH LETTER- WRITERS,
BEGGARS, AND ASPIRANTS FOR FAME.
Letter- Writers and their Wants A Lady " wishes to get married ; "
full Particulars Specimen of a Class of Oddities What "the
Simple Son of a Carpenter " desires An Unappreciated Benefactor
of his Country A "Big Thing" to be accomplished Applications
for Old Lectures The Ambitious Young Man with a "Hobby"
An Aspirant for Fame Newspaper Man wishes two "Worn-out"
Lectures Request for a "Moddle" Lecture Receipt for a "Mod-
die" Lecture A Few Hints to the Ambitious Requests for Auto-
graphs Levying Black-mail Take Warning Dr. Chalmers on
Autographs Demand for Photographs " Very like a Bore " Not
limited to Friends Comical Arrangements of these Pictures Side
by Side with the Gorilla.
UBLIC men are liable to receive com-
munications containing inquiries on all
kinds of topics, asking questions on all
kinds of abstruse subjects, or making
the most absurd propositions. I give a
portion of a letter I received from a
lady:
" I will state my circumstances and wishes as briefly
as possible. I come to the point at once, and inform you
that I wish to get married, and I hope you will think none the worse of
me for thus making my wants known to one who must have a large
circle of acquaintances, like yourself. When a lady finds her hair fast
becoming threads of silver, and the crow's-feet deepening in her face, it
is time for her to begin to look out for herself, if she would not spend her
declining days in loneliness, 'unloved and unloving,' a prospect that
315
316 "I WANT TO GET MARRIED."
I do not at all relish, unless I find that it be God's will. If so, I must
make the best of it. I am thirty-five years of age ; very unprepossessing
in appearance, having a dark complexion, plain, sad features ; only four
feet ten inches in height; weight ninety to ninety-eight pounds; and
health quite variable, still good. Physicians have told me that I am
just as likely to live forty years as any one.
"My father's home is in , away back in the countiy, where there
is not a gentleman of my acquaintance that I would many, even if
they wished to marry me. I wish to get a kind, honest man, about fifty
years of age, possessing common intelligence and refinement, and at
least property sufficient to take care of himself and me ; and he must be
between forty-five and sixty-five years of age, and a total-abstinence
man ; widower preferred ; also one who would care more for home and
wife than society. And I, on my part, think I could be a true and
affectionate wife, capable of managing a household, and willing to dress
and live either in a plain and economical style, or luxuriously, as our
mutual views and circumstances might seem to require
"And now, if you know of any gentleman that answers to my descrip-
tion who would like to make my acquaintance with a view to matri-
mony, please furnish him with an introduction and recommend from
yourself, and I shall be happy to commence the acquaintance at once,
either by correspondence or personally." ....
After giving references, the lady requests that
" If you write them concerning me, I beg you will sign a fictitious
name, for they would think it about as wild in me to write to you as it
would be to write to the King of France. I trust, should you be so for-
tunate as to bring about an acquaintance between two temperance
people, that it will be so managed that the part I have taken in it may
be kept a profound secret. Should you aid me in this matter, I presume
that in time you will be rewarded. Yours faithfully, ."
I give extracts from a series of queer letters re-
ceived from a gentleman, as a specimen of a class of
oddities with whom we have to deal. He first pro-
poses an interview.
" DEAK FRIEND GOUGH : The lecturing field, which is white already
to harvest, 7, the uneducated, unsophisticated, simple son of a carpenter
of the nineteenth century, conscious of the powers that are in me, am
desirous of entering. You have had a large experience therein, and may
render me valuable aid in the way of advice, hints, and suggestions ; and
may possibly point me to an opening, if you will thus kindly volunteer
PROSPECTS AND POSSIBILITIES. 317
your services on my behalf, provided it can be done without discommod-
ing yourself, or hindering your own work. If I could see you at your
own home when you have leisure, or some other place you might ap-
point, and have with you some half dozen or so of your lecturing or
literary friends, I would in an unembarrassed manner, or as much so as
possible, read to you a couple of lectures that I have in my possession,
and shall remodel, entitled, one of them, 'Our Country and its Brilliant
Prospects and Possibilities.' This lecture is descriptive of the country,
and of the people, and of some of their great interests, and one more espe-
cial than the rest, their mining interests. And its peroration is a glow-
ing description of the grandeur and glory that surely awaits the American
people, if they only retain in each other unbounded confidence, and exer-
cise patience and perseverance in all well-doing, and the wealthy out of
their abundance see to it that the destitute and the helpless are provided
for until business can be started. Friend Gough, we must marshal ' the
hosts of God's elect ' from the four quarters of the earth, i. e., the eloquent
orators and i-eformers of the day, and exorcise the evil and ultra spirits
that run so many off into a tangent of weird, wild fanaticism, and clothe
them in their right mind, and show them their proper sphere. Then
we'll evolve out of the present miserable chaos, harmony. Yes, this we
must do. And in so doing, we will fuse the wills of the American people
into one. This work accomplished, this nation then shall demonstrate
itself to all the world as the chosen people of God, to still continue lead-
ing on civilization, science, art, invention, philosophy, government,
poetiy, commerce, agriculture ; and above all, the noblest aspiratio'ns and
highest aims in each individual of the nation, after purity of life and
character, and an increasing intelligence, that shall know no stopping-
place, as we avail ourselves each for himself of a careful perusal of the
life and characters in their biography of the illustrious of all ages. That
in that very act, their virtue, intelligence, lofty principle, and exalted
aims may from them, who being dead (yet thus to us speak, come, or),
flow into us as their living spirit through the dead letter that in or by
others as a substitute they have left behind for us. And in this way, as
the American people, we shall render ourselves and the continent and our
institutions as the true Archimedean lever that shall lift a world from its
degi'adation."
Soon after the receipt of this letter, I received an-
other, from which I give the following extracts :
" FRIEND GOUGH : I must 'see you if I can, and shake hands with you,
and look you in the eye, and listen to the tones of your voice in your own
home, and if you have time, to read two lectures that I have. I have a
mission to accomplish. The American people must be quickened into a
higher life, into a closer unity, a stronger sociality, a deeper feeling of
318 BIG THING ON ICE.
interest in each other's welfare. The conscience, the enthusiasm, the as-
pirations, and the will of the nation needs at this particular juncture
greatly qiiickening, needs fusing into one, and fanning into a red heat,
that the exalted destiny of the nation may, in the right direction, be
speedily carried forward; that genuine intelligence and virtue, and a
true love of art, and science, political economy, literature, agriculture,
commerce, finance, philosophy, invention, and all that tends to promote
a high and true state of social unity, may be promoted. And we indeed
become the chosen people of God to redeem the earth the Archimedean
lever to lift the world from its degradation. We want to rid ourselves
from all undue love of fashion, and pride, and aristocratic notions;
from false ornament, and an excessive love of wealth, purely for a dis-
play ; and seek to be giants in virtue and intelligence, in invention, art,
science, and philosophy. Now, this is a big thing on ice to be accom-
plished. Of course it is. ' But there is a flood taken at the tide leads
on to fortune.' ' There is a fulness of times ' that in nations every now
and then happens. There is a period when the pear is ripe, and must
fall. There are individuals who, like Timothy, inherit from their mother
Lois, and grandmother Eunice, an unusual quantity and element of the
true Promethean fire direct from the throne of the third heavens, so to
speak, and who have the metal that constitutes an intellectual and moral
batteiy, marvellous in its capacities to become highly surcharged ; who
have an ocean of enthusiasm, emotion, sensibility, and a corresponding
voice of tone, modulation, flexibility, pathos, power, unction, and thrill-
ing sensation that all rivets attention, and quickens feeling, and kindles
and brightens in the soul of every one that listens aspirations after a
higher, holier, purer, truer life of virtue and intelligence. There is
every now and then a Peter the hermit, that comes forth from a life of
austerities to wrap the continent in a blaze ; a character simple-hearted,
earnest, and burning with a zeal to see all men united in an indissoluble
band of brotherhood, and genuine heartfelt fellowship, to see sorrow and
suffering depart if we will.
" I am in my 49th year ; the youngest son of a carpenter ; was born of
respectable parents in a beautiful valley between two mountains. Inher-
ited a delicate constitution, and throughout nearly my whole life have been
much afflicted. In my young days I suffered from a seven years' spinal
disease, and from the terrible effects of that broken-down constitution
have never fully recovered ; have had, in addition, many serious seasons
of sickness ; came once near dying with a typhoid fever, and once with
two large carbuncles and a succession of boils, covering a great portion
of the body; have had the itch, and have been 1 y; and have had almost
countless colds and curious fevers, indigestion, pain of back and kidneys,
sore eyes, sleepless nights, and rush of blood to the head. Have been
from early youth wonderfully exercised in mind over the tangled snarl
of theological, philosophical, metaphysical, social, political, agricultural,
IMBIBE LIKE A SPONGE. 319
commercial, scientific, inventive, and artistic problems of the race, that
from birth have confronted me in every conceivable direction, and that
still in a great measure do confront me with curious wonderment and
profound questionings, but through which of late I begin more clearly to
see ; and as I earnestly gaze, the clouds scatter, and the cheering rays of
a celestial sun reach me, and the heavens are spanned with a rainbow of
hope that brings peace and assurance to the soul, and bliss unutterable to
the whole man. The waters of trouble are subsiding and sinking into
the porous soil beneath my feet, and my tread is felt to be solid as I touch
terra firma ; and I am assuming the air and aspect of a conqueror that
approaches the burnished spires and gleaming turrets of the celestial
city, and coming streaming in the sunlight upon his eager vision f
through an atmosphere redolent with the odor of exquisite flowers and
ambrosia."
I will omit the remaining portion of this letter. My
wife wrote to him that I should probably be away from
home at the time he proposed calling on me ; and even
if I should not be, I was so busily engaged that I
could give him but very little time, and therefore I
thought it would hardly pay him to travel so many
miles for so small a result. I give you his reply.
After stating that the letter was received, he says :
"This letter of M. E. Gough gives me an insight into the life of my
friend Gough that I had not until now been as fully impressed with. Can
it be possible, dear friend Gough, that your time and attention is thus
completely occupied, absorbed, and that you are being driven, as it were,
with a whirlwind of duties from the face of the earth? Oh, my God of
Infinite Majesty, love and truth! Is this the natural consequence of suc-
cess? Why, I start back in horror at the thought! A man is not happy
until he gets at that that he has a faculty for, and then because he can
do that thing well, forsooth must everybody hunt him down as though he
were a wild hyena? Now I do most earnest!}' protest against all this non-
sense that we have got agoing on upon this planet. The fact of it is
that our American people want to be preached and preached and preached,
and lectured and lectured and lectured to, until they are preached and
lectured to death and the devil ; and get to be as lazy as they can stick
in their hides, morally and intellectually lazy. They want to imbibe
and imbibe and imbibe, like a huge sponge, and give nothing forth. In
a word, they have become moral and intellectual misers, moral and intel-
lectual effeminates, babies, great grown calves, who will have you con-
tinually a-chewing their food for them, putting it into their mouths and
a-wabbling their jaws, and a-rubbing their blood into circulation, and
320 SHANGHAI SHYSTERS.
thus ever keeping them babies that can communicate nothing. Now I
move that we go to work to stop this thing, in order to save our public
teachers from the most abject drudgery, slavery, oppression, tyranny,
cruelty. Who wants to succeed as an orator if he must be hounded off
of the face of the earth by the public, who can't talk themselves because
they are two infernal lazy to make the effort? Do you know that such
a state of things, if I was a successful orator, would make me as indig-
nant as the prophet Elijah! Well, you can just bet your life it would,
and I know full well that I'd have to hold as tight fast to my old arm-
chair as I could to keep from going off half-cocked, a-cussing like a blue
streak. Well, you see, the idea is just this : When men and women have
read and listened for a long time to earnest teachers and books, they
should be able to communicate their ideas as well as the next one. They
should have become splendid conversationalists. What has God given
them a tongue for? There is plenty around them steeped in ignorance,
who labor under such disadvantages of birth, education, and circum-
stances of poverty, that they can't find out what is for the best for them
in hardly anything; and these lazy imbibers of knowledge and oratory
can do nothing for these poor souls, who are as sheep without a shepherd
because they won't put forth a solitary effort to waggle their own tongues
glibly as they might, if they would only give themselves that practice
that makes perfect; but they must go on oppressing, and make unright-
eous demands upon the public orators of the day until they push them
into the grave. The idea of a public's inexorably demanding of its ora-
tors to go on, go on, keep right on, pandering to their great big morbid
mouth and unnatural appetite for sweetmeats that false custom has given
them, just because they (the orators) have cultivated with success their
oratorical powers. I don't see the point, and I wouldn't see the point
had I climbed to the very highest summit of success. No, sir! 'All
that a man hath will he give for his life.' 'Necessity knows no law.'
All institutions were made for men, not to defeat their own object and
crush men. If there is anything on earth that would come any nearer
(than this crushing of my soul, brain, and body) to making me fall from
grace, I don't know what it could be. The idea that a great set of grown
calves and baby imbeciles who were too lazy or too proud to use their
own tongues should want me to talk myself to death ! Now do you know
that I couldn't be put upon that way : my wrath would boil over when
such animals came after me, and ten chances to one, as good-natured as
I generally am, if I wouldn't suddenly forget myself and bawl out before
I knew it, 'Go to Huckleberry Hill! you infernal, lazy scoundrels!
You think my stomach 's lined with copper, and my throat with brass,
and my lungs with iron, do you ? Well, if you don't, you act as though
you did. Mercy is not in your vocabulary or creed ; you don't seem to
know anything about such an article ; with you it's one of the lost arts.
Well, I'll kick a little into you, you unmerciful Shanghai Shysters !'....
I had thought of getting you to help me to get started as a lecturer,
FORTY IN MIND. 321
for I am burning up with the burden of a mission. But, O heavens!
I now start back amazed at the thought. I would like to see you, and
have a pleasant chat with you," etc., etc.
I suppose every lecturer has applications for his old
lectures, but probably very few are applied to for their
name. Here is an aspirant for fame, who desires to
gather inspiration and gain a name at the same time.
He says:
"Is there a chance of my making arrangements to travel with you?
I want to lecture, and I must be a good one or none at all. I do it for
charity's sake more than money. I have some written lectures on hand.
I am only twenty-two years in age, but forty in mind. I wish to travel
with you, and adopt your name and style, and perpetuate it. I am very
ambitious, and it would save me twenty years' hard labor if I could get
an introduction through you My hobby is to be a lecturer. My
phrenology says I would make a good lecturer. I am a good composer;
will give you all particulars when I receive your answer. Excuse haste.
Please give this your kind attention. I should like to take your place
as you are turning over the last page of your life perhaps. In haste.
Yours, &c."
Very flattering!
A gentleman writes that he is about to start a news-
paper, and shall commence canvassing for it, and if he
could deliver lectures as he passed through the coun-
try, it would be a help to him. Would I send him two
of my worn-out lectures, as they would be fresh in
the region in which he should canvass, and I should
never want them any more, and he will never let any
one know they are mine ! Flattering again !
Another writes for a " moddle lecture." He says :
" Being in need of a moddle lecture, I send to you for assistance. My
request is, that you will please compose a moddle lecture from the extracts
of your old lectures, and give it a subject a lecture that will take about
one hour to repeat it. I have heard of no man that can tie a lecture to-
gether with choice anecdotes such as you can, and indeed, sir, eloquence
has distilled her choicest nectar upon your lips. I have spoken several
times on temperance. If you wish any recommendations as to charac-
ter, apply," etc., etc.
20
322 THAT REMINDS ME.
Now, as to a " moddle lecture," I hardly know how
to prepare one. I will here give a few hints to any
who may be fired with the same ambition. Your sub-
ject might be "Reminders." You can introduce it
by stating briefly or at length, according to the time
you have, that for a conversation it is necessary to start
a theme, and then all is easy. Describe a company of
people sitting dull and silent, with nothing to say;
no subject to interest them. How shall they engage
in a stirring game of conversation? Let some one
tell a story, no matter what it is, and it will be sure to
remind some one of the company of something else.
There you are, " that reminds me " of a man who
had but one story, and that was about a gun. He would
impatiently watch, when in company, for a chance to
repeat his story. When all was still, he would let fall
a book, or stamp with his feet, then start and say :
" Oh dear, how it startled me ! It reminded me of a
gun. Talking of guns, ' reminds me,'" and then
came the story.
" This story of a gun reminds me of a famous
hunter, who had shot tigers in Africa. Conversing
with a German about sport, he said, ' I care nothing
for sport, unless there is an element of danger in it.'
The German replies, 'Ah! you vant danger? "Veil,
you go shoot mit me, dere vill be de danger. Yy, I
shoot my brother in his stomich, t'oder day ! ' Talking
of shooting reminds me of the man who had a heavy
charge in his gun, and taking aim at a squirrel, fired.
Over went he, and the squirrel ran twittering up the
tree. t Oh ! ' said he, as he picked himself up, * if
you had been at this end of the gun, you would not
have run so fast.' That reminds me of two negroes,
who were out shooting, and coming to a wolf's hole,
WHAT DARKS DE HOLE. 323
one said, ' Dar 's a wolf's hole.' ' I reckon dar is,' said
Jem. 'I wonder wedder de ole mi's in dat hole.'
* Dar ain't no wolf in dat hole, it don't look like dar
was a wolf dar. I reckon dar 's young uns.' ' Reckon
dar may be young uns: s'pose you go in dar, Cuff,
and see wedder dar is or not.' ' Go in yourself, Jem.
I'll stand at de hole and watch for de wolf. If I see
him coming I'll let you know.' 'All right ;' and Jem
crept into the hole. Soon the wolf came up with a
swinging trot, and made straight for the hole. Cuff
was too late, and could only seize the wolf's tail, and
then it was, pull wolf and pull Cuff, the wolf's body
completely filling the hole. Jem said, ' Cuff, what
makes de hole so dark?' 'Is de hole dark?' 'It's
all darkened up, what makes it? ' ' Well, I reckon, if
dis wolf's tail comes loose, you know what makes de
hole so dark.' Talking of negroes reminds me of a
colored man who, when asked whether he knew the
way to a certain place, said, ' I wish I had as many
dollars as I know where dat place is.' This mis-
take of the negro reminds me of a Dutchman, who
wanted a man to go out of his store, and said, ' Go
out of my store. If you don't go out of my store,
I'll get a policeman vot vill.' Talking of Dutchmen,
reminds me of two who went into Delmonico's and got
lunch. The price was higher than they expected, and
one of them was very angry, and began to swear.
* Yot's de matter? ' ' Matter enough ; noine tollars for
a lunch, I vill swear! ' 'Ah, nefer mind,' said the
other, ' nefer mind. The Lord has punished dat Del-
monico already, very bad.' 'How has he punished
him?' ' Vy, I've got my pocket full of his spoons.'
Talking of spoons reminds me of a politician," and
324 AUTOGRAPH TRAP.
so you get into politics and finish your lecture
ad lib. I think these are suggestions for a " moddle "
lecture.
To some men, the practice of requesting autographs
is a nuisance and a bore. I have never had any ob-
jections to giving or sending an autograph, when a
stamped and directed envelope is enclosed with the
request. I regard it as very small to send for an
autograph without the stamp. Yet, I have learned
to be careful in the reply, especially if more words are
sent than the mere signature. I was in the habit of
writing, " I cheerfully comply with your request,"
till I received a letter thanking me for a sum of
money sent, and requesting a further remittance.
The letter was so very plain in the statement that I
had sent a certain sum on a certain date, and stating
that nothing would be said about it if I sent another
sum, but that if I did not, I might hear of something
unpleasant. It startled me, and I asked a friend
connected with the police what he thought of it, (after
I had satisfied myself that the letter was intended
for me, and for no one else.) He said:
" I think it is a trap. Let me see do you ever
send autographs by mail?"
"Yes, I send very often."
" Do you write more than the signature ? "
I then told him that I generally wrote, " I cheerfully
comply with your request."
He said: "Never do that' again, unless you know
the person you send to. Always insert the words ' for
an autograph.' '
"When I asked, " Why?" he said:
" Don't you see, if any person wished to make a
charge against you for sending money for any pur-
THOMAS CHALMERS. 325
pose not very reputable, they have you at a disadvan-
tage by the possession of your letter? They may say,
1 1 sent a request to him for a hundred dollars, and I
take my oath that I received a hundred dollars in this
envelope with these words, ' I cheerfully comply with
your request; ' for any person who would attempt
such a game as that, would not hesitate to take a false
oath."
Since then I have sent autographs in such a shape
as to preclude the possibility of their being used for
improper purposes.
To many, the application for autographs is consid-
ered as impertinent. Dr. Chalmers wrote the follow-
ing letter to a gentleman who had requested an
autograph :
" EDINBURGH, 17th September, 1846.
"SiR: I received both your letters. The first I laid aside, because
of my great aversion to any direct application for my autograph, and in
virtue of which it is my general practice to leave all such requests
unanswered. Your second letter, of May 6th, I placed among the letters
to which I might reply, because I felt a wish at the time to let you know
the grounds of my antipathy to a practice which I think is not in accord-
ance with good taste. I find, however, that I have not time for the full
statement of these grounds, and shall only say, in the general, that I
feel as if, on the one side, the making of such a request implies a certain
degree of indelicacy, and, on the other side, that in the granting of it
there must be a certain sense of awkwardness, as the very act involves
at least the semblance of vanity. And yet the desire of having auto-
graphs is legitimate and natural; but the right way to go about the
formation of a collection is to seek, and not from the person himself, but
from any of his correspondents, such letters or fragments of his hand-
writing as can anywhere be found. I should imagine that, to every
man who feels as he ought, a naked request for his autograph must be
extremely distasteful. In sending you this autograph, it is a relief that
I should have something to write about ; and all the more so, that along
with the autograph you have my testimony against the method in
which they are sometimes sought after, both by individuals and by such
public bodies as you represent. With the best wishes for the prosperity
of your museum, I have the honor to be, sir,
" Yours truly, THOMAS CHALMERS."
326 DEMAND FOR PHOTOGRAPHS.
The demand for photographs is " very like a bore."
There is a pleasure in giving these to relatives and
real friends. We all fancy there are a few who really
care to possess our likeness for the regard they have
towards us personally. But the demand for photo-
graphs is not limited to friends, or even acquaint-
ances. One who has ever seen you, or has seen any-
body that has seen you, or knows any one who says
he has seen you, or thinks he may have seen you,
considers himself entitled to make you pay twenty-
five cents, more or less, for a photograph to put in his
book. He may not care a straw about you or your
likeness ; he has a book and means to fill it, and your
picture will help accomplish the desired object. "When
these photographic albums were first introduced, the
demand was almost intolerable. Men were asked to
exchange, and a picture of some one you knew
nothing about was sent, demanding yours in return.
But now I am thankful to say that the novelty has
worn off, and the demand is much less than here-
tofore.
I do not condemn the system utterly: I think it is
useful, ornamental, agreeable, delightful, and all that;
but it may be too much of a good thing, and it is hardly
fair that you should be accounted a bear, or uncivil,
because you do not send to all and everybody, known
or unknown, who choose to ask your photograph. I
have seen some comical arrangements of these pic-
tures in the books. Think of Canon Farrar face to
face with Maud Somebody in character, or Dean
Stanley with Miss Yiolante in costume, or Dr. Taylor
of New York face to face with Madame What's-her-
name of the opera louffe, or Mr. Spurgeon vis-a-vis
with Sarah Bernhardt, Frederick Douglas face to
PHOTOGKAPH COLLECTORS. 327
face with Toombs, and so on! And the mere col-
lectors of photographs will place you side by side
with Tom Thumb or the Gorilla. Now, I have an
idea that all men possess the right to some considera-
tion as to where they shall be placed even in a photo-
graph album. We all have our tastes ; and, without
being invidious, I must confess that I should rather
not be mixed up even in an album with the ladies of
the variety shows, or the singers of the opera bouffe.
CHAPTER XXHI.
UNENDURABLE BORES. MY EXPERIENCES WITH
THEM. AFFECTATION AND "STYLE."
A Class of Bores An Aggravating Case Its Sequel Incident ol a
Lecture Two Hingham Callers The Brilliant Young Man in a
Joking Mood The Conundrum, "Canaan" "Old Dog Tray"
President Woolsey and the Joking Boy Cultivation of Affectation
Indifference Imitating Enthusiasm Affectation turning into a
"Lithp" Unstylish Persons in Style Tarts " Fourpence a-Piece,
Ma'am " Late-Comers in Church and Lecture " Who art thou? "
An Officer of Her Majesty's Service Making Puns Dealing
with the Superlative in Conversation Common Mistakes Petty
Expressions "Lor', how cunning!" Exaggerations in Speech
Trivial Faults mar the Enjoyments of Life.
HERE is a class of bores that are
almost unendurable, that are self-suf-
ficient, confident, obtrusive, and annoy-
ing. They will call upon you and in-
sist on an interview. Perhaps, having
set yourself at a task for the day, you
are interrupted by some vexatious per-
son who will hinder you in your work,
taking up your valuable tune with his ab-
surdities. Patronizing in his demeanor, he seems to
feel that he is conferring a great favor by detaining
you from important avocations. So exacting is he in
his demands on your time, that to get rid of him you
must be guilty of positive rudeness.
328
"KNOW MY FATHER?" 329
I remember one instance among many. I was
quietly reading, one summer day, under the trees,
when the servant announced that a gentleman wished
to see me.
"Who is he?"
" I don't know."
" Did he give his name?"
" ]STo, sir."
" Where is he? "
" At the front door, in a buggy."
So, hoping that he would not keep me long, I went
to the front door; there sat a young gentleman in an
open buggy.
" How do ye do, Grough? "
" How do you do, sir? "
" Don't know me? "
" No, sir."
" Don't know me? Look at me."
I looked at him.
" Now don't you know me? "
" No, sir ; I do not recollect you."
" Why, you stopped at my father's house once,
when I was a boy. Know my father? "
" No."
"Don't know my father? Well, I do. Ha, ha!
that's a joke. Well, how do you do? I got a buggy
in Worcester, and drove out here on purpose to see
you."
" Will you walk in? I will see that your horse is
hitched."
He walked with me into the parlor.
I have a framed picture near the door, entitled
"The Return from the Deer-Stalking:" a woman is
330 HISTORY OF GUANO.
rowing a boat across the loch, while a gentleman in a
hunting cap and dress is in the stern.
"When he saw it, he said :
"Ah, a picture ! " holding his half-closed hand to his
eyes to get a good sight. " That's a good picture.
Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, I suppose? "
I said, " Hardly ! Queen Victoria would not very
likely row a boat across the loch."
"Ah, I dare say; but you've been to England, and
it struck me that was the Queen."
Turning to another picture called " Langdale Pikes,"
he said 1 , going through the same motions with his
hand, "Ah, a very pretty farm scene."
I said, " That is not a farm scene ; that is a view of
Langdale Pikes in Cumberland."
"Yes. Well, I see some cows there, and didn't
know but it was an English farm scene. Been to
England, you know. By the way, I want to see your
library."
I took him into the room.
As he looked around, he said : " "What a lot of
books! Here's where you cook up your lectures, eh?
read 'em all?"
And so he went round the room, talking nonsense,
till he came to the two volumes of the History of
British Guiana.
" Oh, there, I knew you were a practical man ! I
like practical men. You're a farmer, and here's the
book! I see you are practical."
I said, "What has that book to do with farming?"
" Why, don't you see, the History of British Gua-
no? That's practical learn its history before you
use it!"
CAPITAL ILLUSTRATION. 331
And so for three mortal hours did that gentleman
nearly drive me wild.
A circumstance occurred some years after, in con-
nection with this visit, and I give it as a sequel. It is
so ridiculously absurd that one can scarcely believe it
to be possible, but I record the simple fact. I give
no names; and if the individual should happen to
read this, he would not probably recognize the picture
as any representation of himself. I was stopping in
the hotel of the town where I was to lecture that
evening, when this gentleman called, who said he had
come to town to hear my lecture. "We chatted a
while, and he left me. While I was speaking, I saw
him in the audience. Soon I came to a point where I
needed an illustration of the stolidity or stupidity of
a regular bore, when the idea seized me " Why not
use this gentleman's visit at my house? Ah, it would
be too barefaced." The temptation grew on me, and
as I was speaking I argued the point. " I do not be-
lieve he will take, yet it will hardly do." Still I
seemed to be seized with an almost irresistible desire
to use the circumstance of his visit. Perhaps it was
impudent, but I did it. As I looked on his face, and
remembered him at my house, the risk of his taking
it grew less, and I told the whole story through. He
seemed to enjoy it, for he laughed when others
laughed. After the lecture was over, he called on me
at the hotel. Now, I thought, I shall catch it; but to
my utter surprise, he said :
"Well, Gough, I enjoyed your lecture first-rate;
but the best part of the whole was about that man
who called on you; for don't you remember I called
at your house once, and I remember your library and
pictures. It was first-rate."
332 ANNOYING INTERRUPTION.
It is almost past belief that any man should be so
obtuse, but so it was.
Many years ago, during my residence in Roxbury,
and before my wife had learned to refuse me to all
and any who might call while I was resting for the
evening's work, two ladies called, and wished very
much to see me.
My wife said, " Mr. Gough is resting."
"We will keep him but a minute. We came from
out of town, and very much wish to see him."
' V
So I was called, and came into the room half
asleep and in not very good-humor. There were two
large ladies seated on the sofa, who looked at me, and
then very complacently smiled on each other.
"Ladies, did you wish to see me?"
" Yes, we called on purpose to see you."
" What did you want? "
" Oh, we do not want anything. We live in Hing-
ham, and we've heard you lecture, and we was in
Roxbury, and we found out where you lived, and we
don't want anything but we thought we would like to
see how you looked in the day-time, for we've never
seen you except in the evening ! "
"Is that all?"
" Yes, that's all we wanted."
" Good afternoon, ladies."
And I went back to my room with my rest- com-
pletely broken by the curiosity that desired to see how
I looked in the day-time.
A very disagreeable person often met in society, is
the young man who has an idea he is very brilliant.
Woe be to the party he patronizes. He will interrupt
the most interesting conversation with his inanities.
He has an idea he is original, and will bore you with
AN ORIGINAL CONUNDRUM. 333
puns, jokes, or conundrums, worked out with labori-
ous effort at his leisure, and brought forward at the
most inopportune occasions as a fresh scintillation
of his wonderful genius. Think of a dunce like this
interrupting a pleasant social chat with " Ah, here
you are! I've got something for you, perfectly
original. I made it last night that is I thought
of it last night. It's a conundrum perfectly origi-
nal, I assure you. Would you like to hear my co-
nundrum? You never heard any one like it, and
never will. It's my own perfectly original. I have
not even had a suggestion. It came to me last night
like an inspiration. There was no shape to it when
it came, but I have rounded it out and filled it in
till it has become a symmetrical conundrum, per-
fectly original. Would you like to hear my conun-
drum? You will never be able to guess it."
Not at all discouraged by the evident annoyance of
the party he is boring, he goes on : " Now, I'll tell you !
Prepare to be astonished; its perfectly original. What
town in New York is like is like Pshaw ! now
I had it all right. What town in New York State is
like What town is like m m dear me !
how strange ! I had it all right. Oh, ah, yes ! What
town in New York State is like the promised land?
That's it! Do you give it up? Can't you guess?
No? I knew you couldn't. Now for a surprise.
You never could guess it. What town in New York
State is like the promised land? Why, Canandaigua,
to be sure. Don't you see it? No? That's because
it's original, and an entirely new idea. Canandaigua.
See! cut the word in two, and throw away the daigua,
and there you have it: Canan. Only pronounce Canan,
Canaan. Ha, ha! is not that original?" All this
334 OLD DOG TRAY.
without a word being spoken other than by himself?
he being sole talker, both in questioning and answer-
ing. Hearing no reply, he passes on, thinking they
must be overwhelmed by the originality of the conun-
drum, and he approaches another group, to disturb, it
may be, another conversation. He will appropriate
any person's story, and attempt to tell it, generally
failing in the point; for he has no idea of the joke,
except that the listeners have laughed, and he thereby
suspects there is a joke somewhere.
Once in a party, where I was present, there were
groups gathered both in the drawing-room and li-
brary. In the former, a gentleman was amusing the
company with some jokes that seemed to take, as the
roars of laughter testified. One thing he said was:
" Poets do not always tell the truth. Many of their
sentiments are false ; for instance, ' Old dog Tray 's
ever faithful.' That is not true: it may be poetry,
but it's not fact; for how can old dog Tray be faith-
ful, if he betray?" "Ha, ha! very good," was the
response ; and a genial chorus of laughter filled the
room. One young gentleman caught the idea in part,
and knowing it had pleased one party, rushed into the
library, and cried out, " Oh, I've got something for
you : it's very good capital ! * Old dog Tray 's ever
faithful ' is not true: it's poetry, but not fact; for how
can old dog Tray be faithful if his name is Tray?
Ha, ha! " laughing almost frantically himself, till he
sees the sober faces of the group, when he went back
to the gentleman who had told the story, and inter-
rupted him by saying, "Oh, look here; your story
doesn't take in the other room ! "
Some persons neither appreciate nor repeat an-
other's joke correctly. I was told that in New
INSUFFERABLE AFFECTATION". 335
Haven a gentleman of this class was walking with
President Woolsey, of Yale, when a boy fell down.
"Boy, how did you happen to fall down?" asked
President Woolsey.
The boy's reply was, " Notwithstanding."
" Very good," said the President; "don't you think
so?"
" I didn't see anything in it."
. " But did you not hear what the boy said? "
" Yes ; but I did not see any point."
" But I did, and thought it was very good."
They separated, and the obtuse gentleman said soon
after to a friend, " A little thing occurred on the street
just now that seemed to please President Woolsey,
but I didn't see anything in it. A boy fell down, and
the President asked him how he happened to fall
down, and the boy said ' Nevertheless,' and I didn't
see the point."
Some one has said that affectation is a " deformity
acquired; " and many young people cultivate affecta-
tion till it grows into a habit ; and some begin with
being ridiculous, and often end in being immoral and
vicious. Hamlet says to the queen, " Assume a virtue,
if you have it not." But there are men who will assume
an absurdity, and even a vice. You can comprehend
how a man may pretend to be witty, frank, honest,
amiable, generous, or even pious, but not so easy to
understand why one should pretend to weaknesses,
defects, or demerits. What an extremely insufferable
affectation is that of indifference or insensibility
interested in nothing. Ask such an one if he saw the
Alps when abroad.
" Ah, I believe I did see some mountains somewhere
336 ADORE A
with snow and ice, and that sort of thing, with gla-
ciers, I think they call them."
The opposite extreme is an affectation of enthu-
siasm, going into raptures on the slightest occasion.
Laman Blanchard tells of a lady throwing up her
eyes and clasping her hands, as she exclaimed, " Oh,
I have such a passion for roast veal ! " They will
adore a bonnet, or give all the world for a new
fashion.
Some indulge in the affectation of defective utter-
ance till it grows into a confirmed habit, 'introduthing
a lithp, ath if there wath a muthical charm in a lithp ; '
or a drawl, to make the most of the few words at
their command.
Others cultivate the disagreeable and absurd affec-
tation of introducing a giggle after every sentence,
and often in the midst of one.
There is an affectation of style that is very ridicu-
lous. How some people will force themselves into a
circle and style of living for which they are not fitted !
They must get into a fashionable house in a fashion-
able quarter, take a pew in a fashionable church, a
box at the opera (for that is style), engage a staff of
servants to swindle and laugh at them, give dinners
for the purpose of informing their guests the cost of
every dish, and to display their plate and vulgarity to
a class of people who eat their dinners, and serve
them up in a spicy dish of ridicule at the next party.
They pretend ignorance of all domestic details, for
that is fashionable; their sons go to ruin; their daugh-
ters make fools of themselves. We may say of them,
" Oh! wad some power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us."
FOURPENCE APIECE, MA'AM. 337
But "Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be
wise," you know.
I once heard of a lady of this class, who, having a
sudden call of hungry visitors, not being prepared for
them, sent to the confectioner's for some tarts to help
out the dinner, the propriety of which we do not
question. All would have gone off well, but the lady
wishing to show off by exhibiting ignorance of the
contents of the said pies, said to the servant:
"Ah, John, what are those tarts?"
" Fourpence apiece, ma'am."
Some of this class grow supercilious and impor-
tant. Notice their coming into church, or concert, or
lecture-room. They seem to think they are the ob-
served of all observers. They will make a point of
coming late ; and with what an air they will strut to
their seat, imagining they produce a sensation, remind-
ing you of the officer in full regimental uniform who
strutted up the aisle of the church just as the minister
uttered the words, " Who art thou? "
" I am an officer in Her Majesty's service, attached
to the Light Dragoons, and am here on recruiting ser-
vice, thank you ; " and sat down, amid the titter of the
congregation.
Some men acquire the disagreeable habit of making
puns on all occasions, and will sit gaping for an op-
portunity to jingle their nonsense with whatever hap-
pens to be going on. Such a one will catch at some
detached bit of rational conversation, and pervert its
sense, continually interrupting what might be intel-
lectual intercourse by absurd distortions, ill-timed and
ill-placed. He will store in his memory words that
are alike in sound, but differing in signification. He
probably once made some hit that took, and gained
21
338 WIT IN A PUN.
him some applause, which encouraged him to try
again, until he has acquired the habit, and become a
punster a regular hard-going, thick-and-thin punster
a character that Theodore Hook once described as
the " dullest and stupidest companion alive, if he could
only be made to think so." Remember, I refer to the
inveterate punster. If one speaks of an electrical ma-
chine, " Ah, that is a shocking affair ; " of worshipping
idols, " that is an idle custom." If he sees a man
grinding an organ, "that is music by Handel." A
man stands up to urge his horse, that is " rising to
propose a motion." Another leading a pig, that's
" pig lead." A man firing a gun with his eyes shut,
that is " shutting his eyes to the consequences." Hot-
house fruit is " forced to be agreeable." You cannot
buy a pair of boots when they are " half-soled ; " and
BO on, ad infinitum.
There may be wit in a pun, of course, and they are
not to be condemned indiscriminately. Some of
Foote's, Quin's, Sheridan's, Hook's, Jerrold's, and a
few others, are full of it.
Goldsmith once said that " even wit was in some
measure mechanical; and that a man long habituated
to catch at its resemblance, may at last possess the
substance."
The power of language is often destroyed, its force
weakened, and its beauty marred, by the habit of
using unnecessary words. There is a simplicity and
power in " I went alone ; " but " I went away all alone
by myself" is weakness. " I saw it " is decisive and
striking; but "I saw it myself with my own eyes"
adds words which weaken the force.
" I must go" is far preferable to " I've got to go ; "
and, by the way, how absurdly we use that little word
PERFECTLY SPLENDID. 339
got. " I've got to go to the store." " I've got to go
and get my lessons." " I've got to go and get this
bill settled;" and so on. Cases might be multiplied,
for the habit is almost universal. Think of this for a
sentence : " I went there my own self and saw him as
plain as anything with my own eyes. He said, ' I've
got to go and get the doctor.' I heard him say that
with my own ears, but being that I did not care about
his seeing of me, I went away all alone by myself, and
thinks I that beats all I ever saw before in the whole
course of my life. Well, then I came right straight
home and I never said a single word to nobody. I
was pretty considerable kind of tired out, and you'd
better believe I was about used up."
Then the absurdity in dealing with the superlative
in conversation, making such use of high-flown ex-
clamations on the most trifling occasions ; never using
the positive or comparative, always using the super-
lative. A mouse running across the room will call
forth as strong an ejaculation as the thunder-storm.
A landscape is "perfectly splendid; " a sunset, "per-
fectly splendid;" a frosted cake, "perfectly splen-
did;" a sleigh-ride, "perfectly splendid;" Niagara,
" perfectly splendid ; " a wedding, " perfectly splen-
did ; " a young man, " perfectly splendid."
The opposite absurdity is in the use of petty ex-
pressions entirely inappropriate. A landscape is nice;
a sunset, pretty; a frosted cake is charming; a sleigh-
ride is lovely; Niagara is elegant; a wedding, sweet;
a young man is beautiful; &c.
I once showed a fine engraving of Raphael's Holy
Family to an affected young lady who had been using
these petty expressions in reference to almost every
surrounding, expecting to hear some appropriate ex-
340 TICKLED TO DEATH.
clamation, when I was struck dumb by hearing this
remark, " Lor', how cunning ! "
Then the exaggeration in speech that is so common
among a certain class, such as, "he ran like light-
ning; " sometimes it will be, "he went quicker than
lightning; " " my feet are colder than ice; " " he is as
strong as a horse ; " " Oh, I shall die ; " "I laughed
fit to kill myself." I once heard a person say several
times in a few minutes, " I never laughed so much in
all my life." A friend once said to me in reference to
a call I was proposing, " If you only go to see him,
he will be tickled to death."
These things seem to be too trivial to mention, and
yet much of the enjoyment of life is marred by these
extravagances and puerilities of speech.
CHAPTER XXIY.
THE SPEAKER AND HIS AUDIENCE. ANECDOTES AND
INCD3ENTS.
Dread of an Audience Personal Physical Suffering Mutual Sympa-
thy required Incident in the Church of Dr. Joseph Parker Efforts
at Reading a Hymn Experience with President Finney at Aber-
deen The Minister's " Supplication " Involuntary Selection of Per-
sons in every Audience My Stolid Hearer Method of Preparing
Lectures Five Thousand Temperance Addresses in Seventeen Years
Interview with the Actor Macready His Method My Early
Experience with Books " Rollins' Ancient History," and " Putnam's
Library " Incident at Rhinebeck Illustration from Niagara Falls
Taking down the Scaffolding from my Temple "Gough is a
Story-teller " The Wonderful Story " Gough a Retailer of Anec-
dotes " Value of Incidents.
>
[r^OME feel it a cross to speak, and others
feel it a cross not to speak; I would
advise both to take up their cross," was
the remark of a shrewd writer.
Whether this be sound advice or not,
I have for thirty-seven years been a
cross-bearer as a public speaker; but
have never known the time when I did
not dread an audience. Often that fear has
amounted to positive suffering, and seldom am I called
on to face an audience when I would not rather by
far run the other way, and as I grow older this suf-
fering is increasing. A very large assembly depresses
me at first sight. I have often begged the chairman
to make an address, and give me time to recover.
341
342 DREADING AN AUDIENCE.
There are occasions when without the relief of the
chairman's remarks, I should commence my speech
falteringly and with tears. In my suffering, trembling
seizes upon every nerve; my throat and tongue be-
come dry and feverish; my voice hoarse or husky,
until the first few minutes have passed. At one time
the painful sensations may be much stronger than at
another, but the occasions are very rare when I am
in any good degree unembarrassed, and never am I
at perfect ease in sight of an audience.
There are some persons who consider this affecta-
tion. I have been told that it was impossible that any
man who had faced over eight thousand audiences
should be nervous, or apprehensive, or troubled at the
sight of the people. From the first speech I ever
made, when my heart beat like a trip-hammer, and
after uttering the half-dozen sentences I sat down
shaking in every limb, to the last in Philadelphia on
the 15th of April, I have more or less suffered from
this unaccountable dread at every public address.
I think in my whole experience I never volunteered
a speech, and never asked for an invitation to address
an audience. After the first nervousness has passed,
I have but little sensation, except the desire to make
my audience feel as I feel, see as I see, and to gain
dominion for the time being over their wills and affec-
tions. If I succeed in this, or think that I have their
sympathy, and especially should they be responsive,
the fear is all gone; then comes a consciousness of
power that exhilarates, excites, and produces a strange,
thrilling sensation of delight.*
* I should not have introduced this topic into my book, but one or two
dear friends for whose judgment I have a high regard, have earnestly
requested me to do so.
"WHAT SHALL i DO?" 343
When placed in circumstances new and strange, I
have been asked suddenly to perform some public ser-
vice, through a nervous timidity I have been utterly
unable to comply with the request. During my recent
visit in London, I frequently heard Dr. Joseph Par-
ker. On one occasion, at the close of one of his pow-
erful sermons, to which I had listened with intense
interest, I was startled to hear him say:
" I see my friend John B. Gough in the audience.
Will he please come into the pulpit while they are
singing the anthem, and conclude Divine service with
prayer? "
I turned to my wife, and said:
"Mary, what shall I do? I can't go up there to
take part in the service."
She said very quietly, " You had better go into the
pulpit and explain to Dr. Parker."
So, with head bent, I passed down the aisle, crept
up the stairs, and entered the desk, where Dr. Parker
sat waiting for me. His pulpit, a very beautiful one,
presented to him by the corporation of London, is
large, and rather high. As I half stooped I could
hardly be seen by the congregation.
There is a small platform on which the doctor
stands.
I said, " I cannot pray here."
" Oh yes, you can."
" But I cannot here. If I were alone I could, but
here, after that sermon, I cannot lead the devotion
and worship of this people. Indeed indeed, I
cannot. Please excuse me."
He very kindly excused me, and asked me to give
out a hymn. I told him I would try to do that.
He told me to give out the twenty-seventh hymn,
344 CANNOT AND WILL NOT.
and only read the first verse. I had just com-
menced when he bade me stand on the platform, as
not much more than my head could be seen by
the audience below. That added to my embarrass-
ment.
I stood on the platform, and said, in a very husky
voice, " The twenty-eighth hymn."
He corrected me : " The twenty-seventh hymn."
More and more nervous, I said: "The twenty-sev-
enth hymn," and blundered through the four lines,
but how I know not.
Now this was real suffering, and I suppose I ought
to have been in the spirit of prayer, for we are told to
" continue instant in prayer." But to me it has ever
been a task, and a cross, to lead the devotions of
others; for I consider it the most solemn exercise in
which a man can engage. I cannot help it, and I
cannot overcome it.
When Rev. Mr. Finney was in Aberdeen, Scot-
land, I heard from him a wonderful sermon. The
next morning he with his wife called on us at the
hotel.
In the course of our conversation I said, "Mr.
Finney, I fear I am in the seventh chapter of Ro-
mans."
"What?"
" I fear I am in the seventh chapter of Romans."
He instantly said, " Let us kneel down."
When we were on our knees, he said, " Pray."
I told him I could not.
" Pray," he repeated.
" I cannot."
" Pray," again he bade me.
" I cannot pray, and I will not."
INVOLUNTARY SELECTION. 345
Then he said, " O Lord, have mercy on this wiry,
little unbeliever," and offered a prayer himself.
Some have the gift of praying in public, and are
able to do it without embarrassment. I think if I
were a minister, that leading the devotions of my peo-
ple would be much more difficult than preaching the
sermons. At one of our meetings in London a min-
ister was asked to open with prayer, and he prayed
for almost everything for the Zulus, for the Af-
ghans, for the government, the country, other coun-
tries, for the audience, for the speaker, for those that
were instrumental in obtaining the chapel for the lec-
ture, and at the conclusion of the long petition of
nearly fifteen minutes he turned to the secretary of
the meeting and asked him if he was satisfied with
his supplication. Such a person must have a very
strange idea of prayer.
Many questions are put to me in reference to my
experience of public work. "Do you see your au-
dience as individuals in detail, or in the aggregate? "
"When I rise, there is an involuntary selection of the
persons to whom I shall speak; my will has nothing
to do with it. Glancing over the assembly, my eye
rests on certain individuals in different parts of the
house, and to them my speech is largely addressed.
I seem compelled to speak to them, and to no others.
The rest of the people are in the aggregate; these
are the individuals. If I move these, I move the
rest; if these are sympathetic, I feel it; if they are
unmoved, I am distressed. I have more than once
talked for some minutes exclusively to one person
who seemed stolid or indifferent, trying all methods
to move him.
One occasion especially has its vivid recollections.
346 PREPARATION OF LECTURES.
A very stolid man sat before me, one of those I
had selected; but he was so very obtuse, apparently,
that I soon concentrated all my energies on him. The
conviction impressed me, " I must move that man to
an interest in me and my theme, and until I can move
him I shall accomplish nothing." I well remember
the sensation of relief I experienced when, at a funny
story, I saw a slight twitch of the mouth, and an
almost imperceptible twinkle of his eye, as he passed
his hand with a rapid motion over his face. My
thought was, " Now I have you." Sure enough, at
the next story, which came very quickly, he laughed;
I felt a positive friendship for him, an interest in him,
and would have been pleased to shake his hand.
During the rest of the speech, after that laugh, he
appeared to be the most interested auditor I had. All
this I cannot explain; but so it is. I have no control
over the selection of these individuals, and when once
chosen I have no power to change them.
How do you prepare your lectures? This is rather
a difficult question to answer without going into some
analysis of myself, and stating some facts in reference
to the position I occupy.
For the first seventeen years of my public work I
spoke entirely on temperance, delivering more than
five thousand addresses on that theme; eleven hun-
dred and sixty of these in Great Britain and Ireland.
I never wrote one of them, or composed one in my
thoughts; I never, except on perhaps six occasions,
have taken with me a slip of paper to the platform,
and then only some figures I needed, or one or two
passages of Scripture I thought I might want; for,
though I composed no speech, I sometimes had an
idea of the course I should take. Usually I have
MACREADY THE ACTOR. 347
known no more what I should say, except in the gen-
eral idea, than the audience I was to address.
Some years ago, after a lecture I had delivered in
Sherborne, England, Mr. Macready, the celebrated
actor, who spent the last years of his life near that
town, came on the platform and invited me to break-
fast with him the next morning. I regretted being
unable to accept his invitation, being compelled to
leave in the early morning.
He then asked, " Do you commit these speeches to
memory, and recite them? "
I said, " No, sir."
" Then you have them arranged in your mind, so
that, although you may not strictly memorize, you
know what you shall say, having studied them?"
" No, sir. I knew this evening, when I came to
the platform, no more what I should say than you
did. I knew I was to speak on temperance, and I
knew I must draw on the stores of material I have
been gathering in my memory for years ; but how I
should arrange thoughts, or facts, or incidents, I
could not tell when I began. If you remember, I
began by stating a simple fact, that drunkenness is
an evil, and our duty is to remove the evil ; then from
that I went on."
" But," said he, " do you not deliver the same lect-
ure at different times? "
" I use the same material, but not the same arrange-
ment."
He said, "Excuse me; but I felt desirous to ask
you these questions, and trust I have not been imper-
tinent."
I assured him I was glad to meet him, having been
present in New York when the rowdy element assailed
348 MY LIBRARY A HISTORY.
and mobbed him. He further told me that if he was
requested to make a speech at a dinner, or on any
public occasion, or in reply to a toast, he must gather
his material, write the speech, and commit it to mem-
ory. He never could produce an entirely extempo-
raneous speech. I was very much interested in his
statement.
Twenty-five years ago I bought an index-book for
jotting down thoughts that might occur to me, or
selections from authors. That book to-day has not a
score of selections or thoughts, and the pages are, for
the most part, as clean as when I purchased it at the
book-store. My early life, as is well known, was one
of privation. I longed for an education, but was
blocked at every turn. It was not so easy then as
now for a young man to obtain a liberal education.
Till I was twenty-five years of age I had positively
read no book of history or science, except those I
might have read when a mere boy at home. My life
was work without holiday. I read novels in what
leisure I had. From my twelfth birthday I was with-
out a home and its restraints. My mind had never
been subjected to discipline or training, but was, like
an untamed colt, very active, but with no direction.
Desultory reading of novels and frequent attendance
at theatres, with an irregular Sabbath service, was all
the intellectual food I obtained, and at twenty-five
years of age I was fearfully ignorant, as the world
terms ignorance. My library in which I am now sit-
ting is the history of the development of a desire for
better things when I threw off the fetters of habit,
and was inspired with an intense desire for a better
life, and to redeem in some degree the useless past.
I well remember, and I sometimes think of it with
PREPARING SPEECHES. 349
tears, bringing to my lodgings " Rollin's Ancient His-
tory," in six volumes. I wanted something to read.
I had no one to advise me to a course of reading, so
I pitched on Rollin. Next I obtained a number of
"Wiley and Putnam's " Library of Choice Reading,"
and there I found essay, and biography, and history;
but for the lack of a system, my reading was desul-
tory. My time was soon fully occupied in speaking,
day and night, in school-houses, vestries, and halls, so
that the opportunities for intellectual culture were
limited. Still, I read a great deal to small profit,
owing to the lack of advantages, such as I might have
obtained, by the training which -an education would
have imparted.
My earlier addresses were without any preparation,
and no material but my experience. The first speech
after my signing the pledge I have given in my auto-
biography, with a brief account of my entering into
public life as a speaker. But what has this to do with
the question, "How do you prepare your speeches?"
If you mean my temperance speeches, they are not
prepared at all. For seventeen years I was constantly
on the lookout, in travelling, conversation, reading,
strolling the streets, in society, for illustrations, inci-
dents, or facts, that I could use for temperance lect-
ures; not exactly storing them in my mind, but
letting them float on the surface, ready at the moment
when required.
I knew nothing of grammar or rhetoric. Logic
was a term to me that I could not define. I had oc-
casionally an idea, when I went before an audience,
that I should relate some story, or use some illustra-
tion, but when, where, or how, I could not tell. When
I had a fixed purpose to relate some particular inci-
350 DEAD Iff RHINEBECK.
dent, it became a burden and hindrance to me till I
got rid of it. I have been requested to repeat some
story, or anecdote, and have promised to do so. When
the remembrance that I had a certain thing to do
would perplex me so much, and so check the flow of
thought, that I have more than once stopped in my
speech, and said, " Ladies and gentlemen, I have been
requested to give you such or such an anecdote, and
I must give it now, or I shall be compelled to give up,
for I can make no progress till I get this out of the
way." Then after relating the anecdote, or incident,
I have gone on with my lecture.
A little incident will serve to show how I would
appropriate what I saw or heard for my purpose. At
Rhinebeck, many years ago, I was entertained by Mr.
Freeborn Garretson, who then resided on a beautiful
estate near the Hudson River.
We were walking through the grounds one morn-
ing, when he said to me: "I am sorry you do not see
us in the summer time : we look very barren and deso-
late; the trees are so utterly without foliage, they
might be dead trees for all the evidence they give of
life. It is winter time with us now; but come to us
in the summer, and under the shade of these grand
trees you may enjoy a cool and exquisite refresh-
ment."
I went in the evening to the lecture, and as I was
passing into the church, a gentleman said to me : " I
am glad you are come to help us, for the temperance
cause is dead in Rhinebeck."
During my speech, I said, " A gentleman said to
me on the threshold of this house this evening, * the
temperance cause is dead in Rhinebeck.' No, it is
THEY ARE NOT DEAD. 351
not dead; it was born in the church of Christ, and
can never die."
Then Mr. Garretson's remarks in the morning
flashed into my mind, and I said: "If I should say to
you, as I passed through the streets of your village,
' Cut down these dead trees,' you would say, i They
are not dead.' If I tell you there is no evidence of
life, there is no bud, no blossom, no leaf, and ask you
to cut them down, and plant living trees, you might
tell me: 'It is winter time with us now. There is
neither bud, blossom, nor leaf, but the sap is in these
trees ; and by and by the warm spring rain will water
the roots, the sun will shine on the branches, and they
will bud, blossom, and leaf out, and as
" The tree-tops stir not,
But stand and peer on Heaven's bright face, as though
It slept, and they were loving it,"
You may stand under their deep shade, and enjoy
the cool refreshment thereof.' So with our tem-
perance tree. There may be but few, if any, signs
of life. It may be the winter time with us ; but
the sap is hi the tree, and by and by the refresh-
ing rain of public sentiment will water the roots,
and the warm sun of woman's influence will shine
upon the branches, and it will bud, and blossom,
and leaf out; and the branches, hanging heavy with
foliage, shall touch the earth, and spring up again, like
the banyan-tree, and cover the land, and under its
shade every poor victim of this vice shall find a
refuge."
ISTow, when I commenced my speech I had no idea
I should use Mr. Garretson's remarks, and the line of
poetry I had read a few days before in Festus.
352 AX AWFUL RISK.
Perhaps some person may say, " Did I not tell you
that Gough was a plagiarist? Here is an illustration
of it. He used Mr. Garretson's remarks without giv-
ing him credit for them. Why did he not quote the
words as Mr. Garretson's?" A question easily an-
swered. Mr. Garretson was present at my lecture,
and it would have been impertinent in me to allude
to him publicly without his permission. I shall in
another place say a few words about the charge of
plagiarism.
I never wrote or studied an illustration. Upon my
first sight of Niagara, and while standing by the
rapids, I had no thought that I could use them; but
that same evening, in Buffalo, I introduced the simile
of the rapids, which has become so familiar to my
hearers, for when once uttered, I use them again and
again, altering the phraseology, but keeping the main
features intact. These illustrations are all worked
out on the platform.
Remember, I am speaking of the purely extempo-
raneous lectures on temperance. This remark does
not apply to the written lectures of the past twenty
years. Occasionally, some thought has flashed into
my mind in the midst of a speech, the germ of an
illustration, and I have commenced with no idea how
or by what means I could bring it to a successful
climax an awful risk before an audience.
In the Broadway tabernacle, one evening, I suffered
such an exhaustion at the close of one of these at-
tempts, that, though nearly thirty years have passed,
I remember it all as distinctly as if it were yesterday.
I commenced to build a temple, and, with no prepara-
tion or material, laid the foundation-stone, by workers,
under the surface, out of sight, toiling in the deep,
"JOHN, YOU WILL FAIL." 353
damp trench. When I had brought it to the surface,
then came the struggle, appropriation and rejection, a
double, or I might say, a threefold operation in my
mind. The temple must be finished somehow; and
as the materials came to me, I must instantly reject
or select; and with pillars, capitals, architrave (oh,
how I needed some knowledge of architecture!) I
became wonderfully excited. I lost sight of my au-
dience. All apprehension vanished; I could feel my
nostrils quiver. I clenched my hands so tight that I
bore the marks of my nails for days. The scaffolding
was introduced something as follows: "We do not
see the glory of the temple yet, for the scaffolding is
all round it ; ropes, and poles, and ladders hiding or
marring its beauty." How to get the ropes and poles
and ladders down, I did not know. Swift as lightning,
the thought flashed across me : " John, you will fail !
That scaffolding, what shall I do with it!" Then
came another thought: "Let a trumpet's blast be
heard, and the scaffold will fall." Then it came : " A
trumpet's blast is heard ringing through the clear at-
mosphere; the scaffold falls with a crash; and the
glorious superstructure is revealed in all its wondrous
beauty before an astonished world ; and the last
drunkard shall go into it, leaving his broken, burning
chains behind him." It was fortunate this was the
close of my speech, for I was terribly excited, and
somewhat exhausted. The illustration may have been
very crude, and not at all symmetrical in the eye of a
critic, but it was given as I have stated ; and it will
not be egotism to say that the audience received my
efforts on that occasion very generously.
It has been said, " Gough is a mere story-teller."
That may be true in a certain sense, so far as my
22
354: "l AM A STORY-TELLER."
temperance speeches are concerned. I have no wish
to defend myself from any such silly charge as that.
"When I first began, I only told a story. I had no
literature, no scientific knowledge, no beautiful
thoughts clothed in beautiful language. I had a
story to tell, and I told it. It was a story of priva-
tion, of suffering; a story of struggle, and final vic-
tory; a story of gloom and brightness; a story of
life; a story of hope and despair; a story of God's
mercy; a story every word of which I felt in the
deepest depths of my own soul. Yes, I am a story-
teller!
I have related the stories of other experiences than
my own. I have tried to tell the story of the cross;
and I thank God to-day with my whole heart that
there are so many who have been moved at my story
to make the remaining chapters of the story of their
own lives better, nobler, higher. I am content to be
a story-teller, if I may win a soul from vice to vir-
tue; warn the unwary, encourage the desponding, or
strengthen the weak. And I have the cheering
evidence, by letters and personal interviews, that
my story has been harmful to none, and helpful to
many.
Yes, but " Gough is only a retailer of anecdotes
that's what we mean." I have a keen sense of the
ridiculous; and when I find a good story, I appro-
priate it, and use it. Some of these I make, by put-
ting some funny thought into a narrative, or dialogue;
some I find in the newspapers; some are related to
me by others; and some occur in my own experience.
I use them all. They are public property; and I
have known persons sit before me, jotting down
every story I tell; for what purpose? I do not in-
A STORY WELL TOLD. 355
quire, and do not care. I think the public will not
charge me with introducing a funny story except to
illustrate a point; and, besides, I think a good story,
well told, will relieve an audience wonderfully. I
have evidence, by the laughter, that my stories do
please; and I expect to continue the practice of
" retailing " a few stories, either original or bor-
rowed, with but little regard to the adverse opinion
of critics.
CHAPTER XXV.
WHAT OPPOSITION WE MEET. FALSE CHARGES AND
MISREPRESENTATIONS.
"Gough not a Thinker" Unexplainable Knowledge Plagiarism
and its Meaning Satire on Plagiarism of " TJhe Little Busy
Bee " Gough's Apostrophe to Water, and that by Paul Denton
History of its Inception Reply to a Shameless Attack In-
creased Consumption of Beer Our Pullman Cars and Liquor-
drinking Increase of Intemperance in Thirty Years Worces-
ter as an Example 1843 and 1880 Washingtonianism Drink-
ing among Ministers Drinking among Women Murder as ex-
cited by Beer Hereditary Effects of Beer-drinking Paper cir-
culated by Life Insurance Men Reported Interview with the Oxford
Students The True Story, and the Scene The Happy Conclusion.
T has been said, " Gough is not a thinker."
He never professed to be very profound,
and indeed how many profound thinkers
are there in the world? You can count
them on your fingers nearly. Yet I think
occasionally. I do not always jump to
conclusions, or arrive at them by intui-
tion. I think a little, but I do not pre-
tend to be a teacher, or instructor of the
It is not my fault, and I hardly suppose it is
a great misfortune that I am not a profound thinker,
for there must of necessity be some commonplace
people in the world, and I have no objection to rank
with them.
356
THE BUSY BEE. 357
The man in the Gospel knew not who the healer
was, but he could say, " One thing I know : whereas
I was once blind, now I see." It requires no great
amount of thinking to realize that, and to endeavor to
lead the blind to the same great Healer, that they too
may know they see. I do not depreciate thought or
profound thinking, though it may be so profound that
with my short line I cannot plumb its depths. I only
think it absurd to bring as a reproach on a man, that
which he cannot help, and which perhaps he would
remedy if he could.
But " Gough is a plagiarist! " (noun,) one who pur-
loins the writings of another, and puts them off as his
own, a plagiary. " Plagiary (a noun) , a thief in litera-
ture, one who purloins another's writings and offers
them to the public as his own." We might as well
have a correct definition. Coleridge says a plagiarist
is the most sensitive to plagiarism. The cry of pla-
giarism is often very absurd. I have read somewhere
a capital satire on those who are always uttering that
cry. The Atlieneum had accused Alexander Smith
of plagiarism, and the satirist defends him by enumer-
ating several specimens of the crime, overlooked by
his accuser. He says: "Certainly Smith is guilty of
plagiarism, for there is scarcely a word he has used
but is purloined from other authors; but there are
instances strangely overlooked by the Atheneum.
Mr. Smith speaks of the ' busy bee.' He must have
stolen that from Dr. Watts, for whoever revealed the
fact that the bee was busy till Dr. Watts wrote his
immortal lines? But there is a glaring instance that
could hardly have escaped the notice of the reviewer.
Smith's line reads,
* A sigh and a curse together,'
358 ABUSIVE AND UNJUST.
evidently plagiarized from Walter Scott, whose line
reads,
' He draws his last sob by the side of his dam.' "
I have but few words to say in reference to this
charge. In a very abusive and unjust article in the
Rutland Herald and Globe the writer very coarsely
accuses me of reckless falsehood, palpable exaggera-
tion, calls me a mountebank, a demagogue, and pro-
fessional sensationalist; says that I have fastened
myself to the skirts of a great cause, I am guilty of
amazing untruthfulness ; intimates that I am a man of
base and depraved habits, and states that no intelli-
gent or candid man ever listened to Gough without
a feeling of disgust; and much more of such rubbish.
While he accuses me of gross plagiarism, he can only
fasten on one instance, and that is what is called "An
Apostrophe to Water," which he says was originally
written by a man named Arrington, now dead. This
elegant writer and critic (?) may have it all his own
way, and I mention the charge of plagiarism that I
may do what I have always intended to do since I
was first accused of appropriating what was termed
" Paul Denton's Apostrophe to Water." When any
person feels particularly spiteful and venomous to-
wards me, he reiterates this charge of appropriating
another man's thoughts.
In the early days of my temperance work we had at
our meetings often sections of the Cold Water Army
of children, who sang for us, and one of the favorite
songs was:
" Sparkling and bright in its liquid light
Is the water in our glasses."
Another was :
" Give water to me, bright water to me," &c.
A GOBLET OF COLD WATER. 359
Long before I ever heard of Paul Denton I spoke at
my meetings of the beauty of water, and holding the
glass in my hand, would say: "Is not this beautiful?
Talk of ruby wine. Here is our beautiful beverage,
water, pure water; we drink it to quench our thirst.
There is no necessity to drink, except to quench one's
thirst; and here is the beverage our Father has pro-
vided for His children. When Moses smote the rock
the people were thirsty, and it was water that came
gushing forth not wine, or rum, or ale. Were you
ever thirsty, with lips dry and feverish, and throat
parched? Did you never lift the goblet of pure water
to your lips and feel it trickling over the tongue and
gurgling down the throat. Was it not luxury? Give
to the traveller on the burning desert, as he lies per-
ishing with thirst, a goblet of cold water, and he will
return the goblet heaping with gold; give him wine,
ale, or rum, and he turns away in feverish disgust to
die. Our beverage is beautiful and pure, for God
brewed it, not in the distillery, but out of the earth,
and wherever it is, it is always beautiful." Then I
described it in the white mantle over the wintry
world, as rolling up the valley in the cloud-mist, set-
tling on the mountain top, in the waterfall and in the
streamlet, in the rainbow, in the hail and rain, beauti-
ful always and blessed; no curse to it, no heart-
broken mother or pale-faced wife, no starving child,
nor dying drunkard ever cursed it. It is always
beautiful:
" Give water to me, bright water to me.
It cooleth the brow, it cooleth the brain,
It maketh the weak man stronf ao-ain."
o o
" Tell me, young men and maidens, old men and
matrons, will you not dash from your lips the drink
360 APOSTROPHE TO WATER.
that maddens and destroys, and take as your bever-
age the beautiful gift our Father in Heaven has pro-
vided for His own children? "
I had for years occasionally used this apostrophe,
or bits of it, before I heard what purported to be
Paul Denton's. I first saw that in Glasgow, in 1854,
and noticed some similarity in its construction to
mine. He used more beautiful language than I did,
for he speaks of the " Iris," of the " Seraph zone of
the sky," or the wonderful power of refraction, etc.
I adopted a few of his illustrations of the beauty of
water, and incorporated them with mine, always say-
ing when I came to quotations from him, " As Paul
Denton has said." I was the first to draw attention
to the fact of the similarity of his " Apostrophe " to
water and mine. I quoted him until I changed the
whole structure of the passage, for I was continually
changing it in detail, and as I left out his sentences
I left off his name. I have not used this apostrophe
for several years except on one or two occasions, and
have forgotten, and could not repeat it to-day. If
this is plagiarism, then I am guilty and confess, but
will not say, " I won't do so any more."
I have received several communications in reference
to an item that has been the rounds of the papers:
" John B. Gough says that drunkenness in this conn-
try has increased in the past twenty-five or thirty
years. There are more ministers drinking, more
women drinking, than ever before. Twenty-five years
ago you never saw a woman drinking in the cars, but
now you see it every day, and that, too, out of flasks.
The cars in these days are made regular grog-shops."
This is the heading of the article in the Rutland
Herald, containing the most shameless attack that I
INCREASE OF INTEMPERANCE. 361
have had for thirty years. In this quotation from
the reports there are some things I did say in several
places, and some things I did not say anywhere.
I was speaking of the temperance reform in Eng-
land, and said the curse of Great Britain is beer, and
in this country there is an alarming increase in the
consumption of beer; that beer was not a substitute
for spirits, but an addition ; that beer was a feeder to
intemperance; and that I believed there was more
intemperance now than there was twenty-five or thirty
years ago ; that we saw more of it on the cars and at
hotel-tables ; that I feared the use of ale and lager-
beer was on the increase among ministers and women ;
that twenty-five or thirty years ago you would see
but little drinking in the cars, and very rarely, if ever,
among the women, but now it was a common sight.
I stated that the porters would furnish ale, and, I
believed, anything you required, in drawing-room
coaches; for I had known brandy to be furnished to
passengers by porters. Some one has said, " Our
Pullman cars are getting to be travelling grog-
shops ; " and I fear, if the use of ale is increased, we
shall see w r hat is occasionally seen in England,
ladies drinking out of flasks in public conveyances.
For every one of these statements I am ready to give
a reason.
"We note the increase of intemperance in the past
thirty years. Take Worcester as an example. In
1843 she had a population of 20,000, and a meeting
was called to see what could be done to suppress the
traffic known to be carried on in twelve or fourteen
places. Now, in 1880, the population is 58,040. There
were over 200 licences granted two years ago, and
between 100 and 200 are granted now. Then only
362 DR. HARGRAVES' OPINION.
one hotel sold liquor ; the United States, and that was
constantly prosecuted, Now every hotel, I believe,
but one sells liquors.
The "Worcester Temperance Society held meetings
every Monday night in the Town Hall; now there
are no weekly meetings in the City Hall, and the
Temperance Society is defunct.
In Boston there were four or five temperance
houses; now I know not of one. There were no
licences granted in Massachusetts except in one
count} T ; now there are some licenses in every county.
We had Cold Water Armies in every town; now
there are but few, if any. In 1843 Washingtonian-
ism was a wonderful power, and it is my belief there
was a stronger sentiment against the drink then than
now.
We know there is an amazing increase in the
consumption of ale and beer, and very little, if any,
diminution in the consumption of spirits.
For the expressed fear that there is more drinking
among ministers, I would state that I could name
those whom we once considered our stanch friends
who now are using ale, some even defending it;
others who were with us are gone out from us ; and I
am told by some ministers who have long been con-
sidered total-abstainers that they have been in the
habit of taking beer by the advice of their medical
men, &c.
In reference to the drinking of women, Dr. Har-
graves, the temperance statistician, said, in a speech
in Philadelphia in 1876 : " Intemperance is on the
increase among women. I contend there is as much
intemperance now as in 1867. It may not be seen
among the men, but I know it is seen among the
LIFE-INSURANCE CIRCULAR. 363
women. I see them repeatedly drunk along our
streets. I see the cans and pitchers running from
morning till night; and you will find it in every part
of this great State."
About the drinking in the cars. It is well known
that until the drawing-room coaches were introduced,
there was no sale of liquors on the cars. Now travel
from Boston to Buffalo, and you may obtain what you
wish. Only the other day I saw a party furnished
with six bottles of wine; and a little while since I
saw a lady, on the journey between Boston and New
York, drink four glasses of ale. At another time a
gentleman drank three bottles, and was so sleepy
when we arrived in New York that it required a
sharp push to wake him. These are the reasons for
saying what I did; and I maintain I had a right to
say it without calling down on me such low abuse
and vituperation.
A gentleman of large experience and observation,
who has travelled in the United States twenty thou-
sand miles each year for the past six years, to whom
I read the above statement, tells me that he knows
there is a large increase in the consumption of liquor
on the cars, and he has several times remonstrated
with the conductor and porter for furnishing drink to
persons who made themselves quite offensive by its
use. He asserts that he has seen ladies drink from
bottles they have carried with them, &c.
I have in another place spoken of the increase of
the use of beer, and its deleterious effects. Let me
here introduce the contents of a paper that is being
circulated among life-insurance agents by one of the
prominent companies of New York:
364 BEER IS ANIMALIZING.
" The fashion of the present day in the United States sets strongly
toward the substitution of beer for other stimulating liquors. An idea
appears to be gaining ground that it is not only nutritious, but conducive
to health ; and further, that there does not attach to it that danger of
creating intemperate habits which attends the use of other drinks. The
subject is one of great magnitude, and deserves the attention of medical
men as well as that of the moralist.
"Many years ago, and long before the moral sense of society was
awakened to the enormous evils of intemperance, Sir Astley Cooper, an
undisputed authority in his day, denounced habitual beer-drinking as
noxious to health. Referring to his experience in Guy's Hospital, he
declared that the beer-drinkers from the London breweries, though pre-
senting the appearance of most rugged health, were the most incapable
of all classes to resist disease ; that trifling injuries among them were
liable to lead to the most serious consequences, and that so prone were
they to succumb to disease, that they would sometimes die from gangrene
in wounds as trifling as the scratch of a pin.
" We apprehend that no great change, either in beer or men, has
taken place since the days of the great surgeon.
" It may also be said of beer-drinking that there is less limitation to
it than to the habitual use of other drinks. It does not produce speedy
intoxication. When the drinker becomes accustomed to it, it will
scarcely produce active intoxication in any quantity. It makes him
heavy, sleepy, and stupid. Even in moderate quantities, its tendency is
to dullness and sluggishness of body and mind. Beer-drinkers are con-
stant drinkers ; their capacity becomes unlimited. The swilling of the
drink becomes a regular business ; it has no arrest or suspension, like
whiskey-drinking, to admit of recuperation. The old definition of a
regular beer-drinker was true : ' Every morning a beer-barrel, every
night a barrel of beer.' "
Of all intoxicating drinks it is the most animal-
izing. It dulls the intellectual and moral, and feeds
the sensual and beastly nature. Beyond all other
drinks it qualifies for deliberate and unprovoked
crime. In this respect it is much worse than distilled
liquors.
" A whiskey-drinker will commit murder, only under the direct ex-
citement of liquor ; a beer-drinker is capable of doing it iri^Cold blood.
Long observation has assured us that a large proportion of murders
deliberately planned and executed without passion or malice, with no
other motive than the acquisition of property or money often of trifling
value are perpetrated by beer-drinkers.
COMICAL MISTAKES. 365
" We believe further, that the hereditary evils of beer-drinking exceed
those proceeding from ardent spirits. First, because the habit is constant
and without paroxysmal interruptions, which admit of some i-ecupera-
tion; secondly, because beer-drinking is practised by both sexes more
generally than the spirit-drinking ; and, thirdly, because the animalizing
tendency of the habit is more uniformly developed, thus authorizing the
the presumption that the vicious results are more generally transmitted.
" It will be inferred from these remarks that we take no comfort from
the substitution of malt drinks for spirituous liquors. On the contrary,
it is cause of apprehension and alarm, that just as public opinion, profes-
sional and unprofessional, is uniting all over the world in the condemna-
tion of the common use of ardent spirits, the portals of danger and death
are opening wide in another direction."
It is strange how a report will change in a very
little travel. One story was, that I said there was
more drunkenness among ministers and women than
there was twenty-eight years ago; and another,
which I received the other day marked, was very
much abbreviated. This stated, " Gough says there
are more ministers and women in this country than
ever before."
I saw in a recent paper a queer account of my
interview with the Oxford students in 1854. I give
you the genuine and the spurious, just for the " fun
of the thing." This strange version is headed:
"COUGH'S CONTEST WITH OXFORD STUDENTS.
" An amusing story is told of John B. Gough, when he went to
Oxford to address the students on temperance. The students sent
word to Mr. Gough that they 'would not have any temperance,' and
advised him not to persist in lecturing ; but he went to the hall. For
twenty minutes he spoke in pantomime amid the deafening cat-calls of
the boys. Finalty, he stepped forward, demanded British fair play, and
offered to whip every one of the five hundred students singly.
"His offer was loudly cheered and promptly accepted, and a big
six-foot athlete was sent up on the stage. Gough, who is a little man,
backed off as the big fellow approached him, and explained, 'My
friends, you evidently misunderstand me. This is to be an intellectual
contest, not a prize-fight.' The students cheered again at this evidence
of the American's shrewdness and ordered the debate to proceed. The
366 SPURIOUS AND ORIGINAL.
college lad was, therefore, obliged to discuss with the temperance cham-
pion. He was at a disadvantage, but he quoted Scripture, and reminded
the plucky lecturer that it was one of the apostles who wrote to Timothy
a young man too, like themselves to take a little wine for the stomach's
sake and for his often infirmities. The lads shouted vociferously at this.
"Gough slowly examined the six-footer from top to toe, and then
said, 'My friends, look at this athlete; this fellow with muscles like
steel, who can wield the club of Hercules, who can bend an English
yeoman's bow, who could knock down an ox with the blow of a hammer,
he is the personification of health and strength, but he thinks he needs a
little wine for his stomach's sake ! ' Gough's inimitable manner of
saying this had a tremendous eflfect. The students fairly yelled with
delight, and their defeated champion retreated.
" Another was sent up. He was the intellectual giant of his class,
in contradistinction to the six-footer. He r with much self-confidence,
made a finished argument for liquor-drinking, based on Christ's chang-
ing the water into wine at the wedding-feast. His comrades cheered
him to the echo, and thought his argument unanswerable, and Gough
was chaffed for his defeat. ' Young men,' said he, solemnly, ' I admit
that your champion has forestalled me. He has said to me just what I
came here to charge you to do. Drink all the wine that you can find that
is made entirely out of water. 1 "
The original statement I extract from my autobi-
ography:
The Committee of the London League were very desirous
that I should speak in Oxford, On proposing it to the
friends of temperance in that city, they stated that it was
doubtful if such a meeting could be held. A certain class of
students had been in the habit of disturbing concerts, lectures,
and the like, and it was thought they could not resist the
opportunity of having some " fun " at a temperance lecture,
a subject held in contempt by a majority in the class to
which these Oxford students belonged, and their "fun"
was occasionally rough. They had smoked out a gentleman
who came to lecture to them on tobacco. Some scores of
pipes and cigars were in full blast. The Oxford friends stated
also that though they would do all they could to assist in the
arrangements, and promote the success of the meeting, no
person known in that city would venture to preside, and the
project had better be abandoned. The London committee
FUN AT OXFORD. 367
were determined to make an attempt to get a hearing for me
there ; and I having consented, and a gentleman from London
having agreed to preside, the evenings of Wednesday and
Friday, June 13th and 15th, were appointed.
I went down to Oxford with three or four gentlemen of
the League. On entering the hall I found a large number of
students, distinguished by their flat caps and gowns. The
introduction passed off quietly, and I was received with noisy
demonstrations, not exactly complimentary. I proceeded in
my speech. The majority seemed to be looking at me cu-
riously, as I supposed a pugilist looks at his antagonist,
watching the first opportunity to give him a " settler." At
length I said, " What is the cause of the intemperance of
Great Britain?" when a thin squeaking voice called out,
" Tempewanth Thothietieth." At this there was a universal
laugh ; but I happened to catch the exact tone of the speaker,
and replied, " I beg your pardon, sir ; but it is not ' Tempe-
wanth Thothietieth ' at all."
Then there was another laugh, and the noise began,
laughing, whistling, crowing, braying, but no hissing. They
were good-tempered, and simply wanted the "fun" and
I sympathized with them in that. A little harmless fun will
hurt nobody.
The scene became so irresistibly ludicrous, and the young
gentlemen went into it with such a perfect abandon, and such
evident enjoyment, that, though I felt compelled to maintain
my dignity, (such as it was,) I was thoroughly amused, and
internally chuckled while striving to keep my face straight.
The volley of questions that were hurled at me some of
them ridiculously personal, and some bordering on the pro-
fane were incessant for some time. There was no abuse,
but simply rollicking fun. I kept my position on the plat-
form, though I could not be heard. At every lull I would
say, " Gentlemen," and then would come a storm of cheering.
Look which way I would, I saw laughing faces. I turned to
the chairman, and was amused to see him with a broad grin,
and his mouth wide open, enjoying it hugely, till he saw me
looking at him, when his mouth closed instantly, and he made
368 FAIR PLAY IS A JEWEL.
futile efforts to look grave and serious ; but in spite of his
sober face, his eyes were twinkling with merriment. What
was I to do ? It would never do to give it up so. Their
questions became, after a while, more serious and answerable.
One called out, " Who turned water into wine ? "
To which I replied, so that they could hear me, " We have
no objection to wine made of water."
Then came a string of Bible questions.
In one of the pauses of the din, I said in a loud tone of
voice, " Gentlemen, fair play is a jewel."
At this they cheered, and some shouted, " Fair play ! "
I said, " What's the Englishman's motto ? Fair play."
" Yes, fair play ! "
" Down in front ! "
"Hats off!"
" Caps on ! "
" Hurrah ! "
" Fair play ! "
Again I shouted, " Fair play ! " and then said, " Gentle-
men, I have a proposition that I think will please you and
I like to please my audience."
" Let's have it."
" Proposition ! proposition ! "
"Hush-sh-sh!"
I said, " We all believe in fair play, and this surely is
not fair play ; so many of you attacking one, and he a little
one. My proposition will give us all fair play."
" Proposition ! proposition ! "
" Stop that noise I "
" Hush-sh-sh ! "
" Down in front ! "
" The proposition is, that you choose your champion, and
he shall take the platform, and he and I will take it ten min-
utes turn about and the rest of the audience shall judge
who is the victor in this contest, he, or I. That's fair."
" Yes, yes, that's fair ; " and there were some comical pro-
posals as to champion, and, as I suppose, personal hits ; for
there was loud laughing where I could not see the point.
END OF THE ROW. 369
But after a little confusion, no champion appearing, I was
permitted, with very slight interruption, to continue to the
end of my speech, and received hearty cheers at the con-
clusion.
The next evening my wife and I attended, by invitation,
a rendering of (Edipus by Vandenhoff and his daughter, the
choruses being sung by the choirs of the cathedral, assisted
by amateurs among the students. It was very fine. I was
recognized with a smile by some who were at the meeting
the night before.
23
CHAPTER XXVI.
ON THE PLATFORM PERSONAL EXPERIENCES AS A
PUBLIC SPEAKER.
The Judge's Speech Power of his Example " Give it to him, Old
Man " Self-Possession necessary under Embarrassments Man in
Faneuil Hall, and Story for his Benefit Woman and her Crying
Child "Did he lose his Eggs?" One Handkerchief for Two
Power of Audience over the Speaker The Man with the Newspaper
How the whispering Young Ladies were stopped Cultivation of
the Voice Power of Sarcasm The Donkey at Snowdon Sar-
casm of O'Connell on Benjamin Disraeli John Randolph and the
"Vacant" Seat Tom Marshall's "Demijohn" all but the Straw
Personal Experience under Trying Circumstances " Here's one of
your Cigars, Mr. Gough " Quotations from Locke and Walter Scott
which were not Quotations.
following expresses the contrast
between what is genuine and the re-
ported. I find in a paper the follow-
ing:
"At a great meeting at which Mr. John B. Gough
spoke, in America, the card of a gentleman, a judge
in the place, was sent up, as he desired to speak.
" ' I beg to differ in toto with everything said by
the lecturer. I began with nothing, and worked my
way up to the top of my profession, and have been a
moderate drinker all my life; and if people would only follow my
example, there would be no drunkards.'
"A man in the gallery called out, ' Hear, hear! '
"As the judge went on speaking, that ' Hear, hear! ' was changed into
'Go it, old chap!' 'Hit him again!' 'Get your name up!' 'Sit upon
him!'
370
"PUT THAT MAN OUT." 371
"And while this was going on, everybody saw that the poor fellow
was drunk.
" The chairman jumped up and said, ' Let us turn that man out.'
"Away rushed three or four to seize him by the neck, and were pull-
ing him outside the meeting, when somebody came up and whispered a
word, ' Let him alone ; ' and then he held out his hand to support the
judge's own son.' "
The original is as follows:
At a meeting in a large town in Pennsylvania, at
the close of the lecture a gentleman rose and was
announced as Judge So-and-so, judge of the quarter-
sessions. He said:
" Ladies and gentlemen : Before the audience is dis-
missed I wish to say a few words in defence of myself
and the class I represent. Now, it is very hard to
have it publicly stated that I set a bad example."
The speaker had not said that the moderate drinker
set a ~bad example, but that he did not set a good one.
" Now," said he, " I am a moderate drinker. Every-
body knows me. I take my glass at home; I take it
abroad. I am a moderate drinker, a respectable,
moderate drinker. Who dares say anything against
me? Who ever saw me the worse for drink? Who
ever saw me out of the way by drink? If young
men followed my example, they would be as I am,
respectable and respected. I challenge the town in
which I live, I challenge the county, to say whether
my example is a bad one. Let young men follow my
example, and they will be as I am."
A man in the audience cried out, " Give it to him,
old man; give it to him! Put a head on him! "
Some one said, " Put that man out ! "
Another gentleman said, " No ; let that man re-
main : he is the only son of the judge."
His only son tried to follow his example, and there
372 EFFECT OF A HISS.
was the result: he was so drunk that he would dis-
turb a respectable meeting.
I have made a long digression, and will now return
to the relation of some of my experiences as a public
speaker.
Like all other speakers, probably, I have been
placed in embarrassing circumstances, and a certain
amount of self-possession has been necessary to over-
come an unexpected difficulty or opposition, espe-
cially such an interruption as often occurred in the
earlier days of temperance work. On such an occa-
sion I lost all fear, and became self-possessed, watch-
ing for an opportunity to retaliate. The secretary of
the National League in London once told me that he
was tempted to induce some one to hiss me, as the
sound of a hiss seemed to stir me up to a more
vigorous speech.
I was never utterly put down by an opposition in
my public addresses. I have been sorely tried. On
more than one occasion I found it was of no use to
employ arguments with those who were determined
to annoy me, but if possible would think of some apt
story to get the laugh on them ; and then I always suc-
ceeded in maintaining my ground.
A man in Fanueil Hall had troubled me by inter-
ruptions, with insolent and profane remarks, for some
time, until I felt the necessity of quieting him. My
indignation was roused by seeing under the gallery
some liquor-sellers enjoying the fan hugely, and aid-
ing the man by loud laughing at every impudent
remark he made. I also discovered that the man was
slightly under the influence of liquor. So, pausing
in my speech, I said:
" My friend, I pity you; for you are doing the dirty
A JOKING MERCHANT. 373
work of men who dare not do it themselves. You
are serving your masters and employers, who sit here
in this audience encouraging you in doing what you
never would dream of were you not set on by others.
You look like a sensible man, and I should like to
tell you a story of which you remind me."
The man said, " Let's have the story."
" Well, you listen, and I'll tell it to you.
" A certain merchant, who was sadly afflicted with
stammering, had one joke which he related to every
one who would listen to him. His clerks had repeat-
edly heard this joke, and were familiar with it. One
day a stranger came into the store. The merchant
accosted him with, ' Can you tell me wh-why it was
th-h-at B-B-B why it w-was that that B-B
wh-wh-why it was th-that B-B ' One of the clerks,
seeing his employer's difficulty, said, 'He wants to
know if you can tell him why Balaam's ass spoke.'
4 Yes,' said the stranger, 'I guess I can. I reckon
Balaam was a stuttering man, and got his ass to do
his talking for him.' '
The man laughed with the others, and in a few
minutes got up and left the hall.
On another occasion I silenced a man who was
quite noisy, when the audience cried, "Put him out! "
by saying, "Do not put him out; let him remain: he
reminds me of the woman who was taking her squall-
ing child out of church, when the minister said, * Do
not take the baby out; it does not disturb me.' *]^o,'
said the woman; 'but you disturb the baby.' This
baby does not disturb me, but I probably disturb
him."
There are some persons in every audience on whom
your best illustrations produce no effect. They are
374 DID HE LOSE HIS EGGS?
interested in the material or main chance, and care
but little for romance or poetry.
I have a curious letter from a student in one of
our Western colleges, which I copy here:
"DEAR SIR: Several years ago, while attending college in the
Michigan University, I had the pleasure of hearing you lecture. During
your lecture you related a thrilling incident about a man being let down
from the top of a perpendicular cliff of rocks to a great distance below,
over the waves of the sea, by means of a basket and rope, for the
purpose of gathering the eggs of sea-birds in the ledges below; and
that when being drawn up he was attacked by an eagle, and, in striking
at it with a knife, cut the rope very nearly in two; and that when he was
finally drawn up, his hair had turned perfectly white from terror.
" The next morning after your lecture a young man related the inci-
dent at the breakfast-table of his boarding-house to a number of students,
the landlord and lady, and the landlord's mother, who was far advanced
in age. When he had finished the story, and had told how the man was
frightened gray by his perilous situation, the old lady raised her spec-
tacles and inquired, with much curiosity, ' Well, did he lose his eggs? ' "
Occasionally, the most practised speaker will be
thrown off his guard if not self-possessed, and even
with all his self-possession may be considerably dis-
turbed. As he sees all before him, some trifling inci-
dent, some untoward accident, may upset his gravity.
At one time, a couple were seated before me on the
front seat. They had evidently come to hear what
was to be said; just the people one likes to speak to.
They were not critical, but came to the hall to be
pleased (and it depends very much on the audience
whether they are pleased or not).
Sit cold, critical, determined not to be moved, and
let the speaker see the slight sneer on your face at
his efforts. Look at him, as much as to say, " What
are you going to do next? " and you will so destroy
the elasticity of any speaker, that, if he has not the
ability to turn from you, he will be seriously embar-
HASDKEKCHIKF FOB TWO. 375
rassed. But take your place with the desire to be
interested, look at the speaker as if you would say,
" "We have come expecting and desiring to be pleased ;
now do your best, and we will show our approval,"
and you encourage him to do his best.
There are audiences that are positively cruel to a
speaker, and who, without intending a wrong, may
do essential and permanent injury to a timid speaker,
who by a little encouragement might be a splendid
success. The audience can hardly understand how
much life an occasional expression of approval may
put into a speaker.
But to return to my couple. They were a middle-
aged pair, who attracted my attention at once. As I
arose, they greeted me with a smile, and evidently
settled themselves to listen. As I proceeded, I found
them growing more and more interested, and at every
point I made, one would nod at the other. At a funny
story they laughed heartily. By and by I related a
very pathetic incident. Then the smiling face was
changed to a sober, then to a sad, expression. Soon
the man began to sniff a little, feeling at the same
time for his handkerchief, which he did not find, hav-
ing probably forgotten it and left it at home. He
felt in each of his pockets, then he wiped his eyes
with his hand. Seeing his wife's handkerchief in her
lap, he took it and began using it. The wife soon
began to sniff, and felt for her handkerchief. Missing
it, she found her husband using it; and so, with a
loving, wifely motion, she leaned toward him, and
taking one end of the handkerchief, she wiped her
eyes with it. The sight of that pleasant couple, wip-
ing their eyes with the same handkerchief, so excited
my sense of the absurd, that I had hard work to keep
376 SHE HAS A BEAU.
my face sober, and was compelled to look in another
direction to maintain my gravity.
Then again, a speaker may be considerably annoyed
and perhaps vexed by the conduct of some one person
in his audience. A man once sat before me, who, in
the midst of my speech, ostentatiously drew out a
newspaper, opened it, and began to read, turning it
over with a very unpleasant rattle. I bore it as long
as I thought it best, then I said a few words request-
ing him to bear with the speaker's lack of power to
interest him, and to go to sleep rather than to disturb
those who desired to listen.
Once a couple of young ladies had taken a seat
directly in front of me, and I had hardly commenced
when they began to whisper and giggle, and became
so excited in their conversation that they were evi-
dently annoying others. I did not like to tell them to
stop talking, so I said : " A minister told me that he
regretted very much rebuking two young ladies who
were disturbing him and others by talking during his
discourse, for he was told that one of these young
ladies had just secured a beau, and that she was so
exceedingly tickled about it, she could not refrain on
all occasions when she could get a listener from expa-
tiating on the dear young man's perfections: there
seemed to be so many of them she could never ex-
haust the enumeration ; and when she began to talk
about her beau, she went on interminably. Just so
whenever I see two young ladies talking together in
a church, or at a lecture, I imagine one or the other,
or both, have got a beau, and it would be hardly fair
to disturb them, so I let them talk." The whisperers
troubled me no more.
Endure all you can before putting any of your
CULTIVATE THE VOICE. 377
audience to shame. There are a few cases that de-
serve the punishment, but it is best to avoid it as far
as possible.
I would advise every aspirant to eloquence to care-
fully cultivate the voice, to acquire a perfect command
of that organ if possible. By careful, earnest, and
frequent training, a defective voice may not only be
improved, but an astonishing mastery be gained over
it. A naturally harsh voice, which without cultiva-
tion would grate upon the ear of others, may be so
brought into subjection as to become musical in its
modulations. A power may be gained of uttering
loud, clear, prolonged, trumpet tones, or sounds as
sweet and penetrating as the echoes lingering about
the soul long after it has ceased haunting it as
some voices will forever.
~No man with an incurable defect in his voice should
seek to become an orator. Think of a speaker at-
tempting pathos or sublimity, if he pronounces m like
5, and n like d. "O by bother, by bother! " "My
dabe is Dorval ! " " Freds, Robads, cudtrybed ! " The
power and beauty of language are utterly destroyed.
I once heard a man who preached occasionally, and
who invariably pronounced n like I. For instance:
" My brethrel, pass roul the coltributiol box, but dolt
put rusty lails or buttols ill, but mully. If you put
ill buttols, put 'em ill with holes ill 'em, lot with all the
holes jailed ilto wull! "
But, seriously, a cultivated or a naturally good
voice is one great essential. It is said that when Wil-
liam Pitt uttered his torrents of indignant censure, or
withering sarcasm, his voice assumed an almost ter-
rific sound.
The power of sarcasm should be used with great
378 DONKEYS AT SNOWDON.
discretion and moderation. A man may utterly lose
his cause, and even excite hostility, by a too free use
of this dangerous and yet powerful agent. There are
cases where sarcasm, as in a retort, may be withering
to an opponent, and gain for you the sympathy and
applause of your audience.
A friend of mine in London possessed this power
in an eminent degree. Any officious person who in-
terrupted him was sure to get the worst of it. On
one occasion he was speaking to a large audience,
and said:
"You remember, Mr. President, when we visited
Snowdon we saw the tourists on then* donkeys as-
cending the mountain."
A man in the audience shouted out:
" There ain't no donkeys in Snowdon ! "
"Ah!" said the speaker; "a gentleman tells us
there are no donkeys at Snowdon."
" There never was a donkey in Snowdon," replied
the man.
"How do you know, sir?" was the question from
the platform.
" Because I've been there myself," was the reply.
" Oh ! " said my friend. " Now, ladies and gentle-
men, this individual tells this respectable audience
there never was a donkey in Snowdon, and in the
same breath informs them that he has been there
himself."
The man was utterly crushed, though he was right,
and the speaker was wrong, for there are no donkeys
used at Snowdon, as the ascent is made on small
ponies.
I think one of the most terrible sarcasms on record
is that made by Daniel O'Connell on Benjamin Dis-
RANDOLPH'S SAKCASM. 379
raeli. Disraeli had left the party of the Liberator,
and had indulged in severe personal attacks on
O'Connell, who replied in a tone of unexampled bit-
terness, and concluded with these terrible words:
" I cannot divest my mind of the belief that if this
fellow's genealogy was traced, it would be found
that he is the lineal descendant and true heir-at-law
of the impenitent thief who atoned for his crimes on
the cross."
Disraeli being of Jewish extraction, this struck him
like a poisoned arrow.
I suppose that John Randolph was the most sar-
castic of human beings, and made himself many ene-
mies by its too free use. He could select at will, and
at once, the very word that would sting. On one oc-
casion, a gentleman, who had been elected in the
place of a colleague of Randolph's, who had died,
made a furious onslaught on him. He never looked
from the paper before him while his opponent was
speaking, but soon after arose, and in the course of
his remarks paid a glowing tribute to the memory of
his departed friend. Then, with his long finger point-
ing toward the seat that was occupied by his oppo-
nent, he said :
"Mr. Speaker, when I look at the seat so long
and ably occupied by my honorable friend, my heart
is sad to find that seat vacant"
I believe it was Tom Marshall who, during a speech
at Baltimore, when interrupted by a half-drunken
man, with, "You're a demagogue," turned quickly to
the man and said, "If you had a wisp of straw
around your neck you would be a demijohn."
The only instance of embarrassment I could not
overcome, occurred many years ago. It was my own
380 AWAY WENT THE CIGARS.
fault, and proved a sharp lesson to me. I was en-
gaged to address a large number of children in the
afternoon, the meeting to be held on the lawn back
of the Baptist church in Providence, ~R. I. In the
forenoon a friend met me and said:
"I have some first-rate cigars, will you take a
few?"
" No, I thank you."
" Do take half a dozen."
" I have nowhere to put them."
" You can put half a dozen in your cap."
" I wore a cap in those days, and I put the cigars
into it, and at the appointed time I went to the meet-
ing. I ascended the platform and faced an audience
of more than two thousand children. As it was out
of doors I kept my cap on, for fear of taking cold,
and I forgot all about the cigars.
Towards the close of my speech I became much in
earnest, and after warning the boys against bad com-
pany, bad habits, and the saloons, I said:
"Now, boys, let us give three rousing cheers for
temperance and for cold water. Now, then, three
cheers. Hurrah ! "
And taking off my cap, I waved it most vigor-
ously, when away went the cigars right into the midst
of the audience.
The remaining cheers were very faint, and were
nearly drowned in the laughter of the crowd.
I was mortified and ashamed, and should have been
relieved could I have sunk through the platform out
of sight. My feelings were still more aggravated by
a boy coming up the steps of the platform with one
of those dreadful cigars, saying:
WE ARE BORtf. 381
" Here's one of your cigars, Mr. Gough."
Though I never afterwards put cigars in my cap or
hat, when going to a meeting, I am ashamed to say it
was some time after that before I gave up cigars alto-
gether.
As already recorded, I have always avoided com-
mitting any portion of a speech to memory; that is,
the phraseology. I get the idea, and perhaps may
use the same words at every repetition of the sen-
tence, but never charging my memory with the words,
allowing the opportunity of changing at will.
When I attempt to make a quotation it often ends
in a blunder.
I attempted once to quote the sentence: "Locke
says we are born wkh powers and faculties capable
of almost anything."
I began very confidently with my quotation. " Locke
says, * we are born.' '
There I stuck fast, and could not remember another
word.
So I said, " We are born ; I suppose we are born ;
but what we are born for in this connection, I am
sure I do not know."
Before a very dull audience, at one time, I caused
the only laughter that was heard during the address,
by a confusion of syllables.
I intended to say, " Walter Scott once, on hearing
his daughter say of something that it was vulgar.
asked her if she knew the meaning of the word
' vulgar.' ' It is only common, and nothing common
except wickedness deserves contempt.' ' :
I began all right. " Walter Scott once, on hearing his
daughter say of something that it was vulgar, asked
382 A QUEER INTRODUCTION.
her if she knew the meaning of the word ' vulgar.'
* It is only common, and nothing except wicked
commonness nothing wicked except commonness
nothing except common wickedness nothing de-
serves wickedness Dear me ! nothing except con-
tempt deserves wickedness.' '
I finished by saying, " I do not know what the man
said to his daughter, and I am sure I do not care ! "
I have been sometimes embarrassed by an introduc-
tion. In Lockerbie, Scotland, a chairman thus intro-
duced me :
" I wish to introduce to you Mr. Gough, who is to
speak to us on the subject of temperance, and I hope
he will prove far better than he looks to be."
In my Autobiography I have narrated many curi-
ous incidents of my public life as a speaker, which I
will not repeat, only to say, that however faulty my
speeches may be in their construction, I know they
have been useful to many. In England, they have
been recited, read at meetings hundreds of times, and
hundreds of thousands of printed copies have been
sold there. Extracts have been published, and selec-
tions in the form of leaflets, illustrated, have been
scattered broadcast. It is estimated that the penny
edition, containing one lecture to each number, has
been sold to the extent of one million copies. Thirty-
six different lectures have been published.
AVhen in England, three reporters from London
followed me for weeks. Four London papers pub-
lished my speeches in full; and extracts from them
were published in several other metropolitan papers,
besides reports in local papers. My Autobiography
was published and circulated to the extent of over a
FAVORABLE RECEPTION. 383
hundred thousand copies. I write of these facts not
in egotism, but thankful that my utterances on tem-
perance were received with favor, and that I enjoyed
the privilege of speaking to so many thousands by
the powerful aid of the press.
CHAPTER XXYH.
MEN I HAVE KNOWN PULPIT AND OTHER ORATORS
OF GREAT BRITAIN.
Public Speakers Lectures I have heard Personal Experience as to
Public Occasions Ministerial and other Acquaintances Thomas
Guthrie, D.D. The Audience Guthrie's Philanthropy His Ap-
pearance in the Pulpit Not a "Weeping Preacher" My First
Impressions Power of his Utterance William Arnot, D.D.
Appeai-ance and Manner " Figs of Thistles " Newman Hall, D.D.
Lincoln Tower of Christ Church Mr. Martin of Westminster Chapel
Strange Texts " Man of One Book" Cowper's Model Preacher
Some of my Chairmen Lord Shaftesbury John Bright Bright's
Speech at Henry Darby's Feast Sir Fitzroy Kelley : his Style and
Manner Joseph Parker, D.D. Immense Power Pulpit Apolo-
getic Manners out of Place Dr. Parker at Home, and as a Preacher
First Impressions of the Preacher Vividness of Description
"God's Testimony against Sin" Sins of Presumption Where do
Texts come from?
speakers have few opportunities
to hear others speak. If a lecturer, he is
busily employed during "the season;"
if a minister, he has his own pulpit to
fill. Lawyers and members of Congress
are exceptions, I suppose. Many of
them hear more speaking than is per-
haps desirable or profitable for them. For
my own part I may say that I have literally
heard no public speakers, except in the pulpit. I have
no recollection of ever attending a political meeting
but once. 384
LECTURES I HAVE HEARD. 385
I have heard but four lectures in my life ; one from
Rev. "Wm. Arnot, more than twenty years ago, in
Exeter Hall, subject, "The earth fitted and framed
for the habitation of man ; " one from Clara Barton,
in Crosby's Opera House, in 1867, on her " Work in
the Army during the Civil War; " one from Miss Wil-
lard, in Mechanics Hall, Worcester, in 1876, on the
"Women's Temperance Reform;" and one, in 1878,
from Dr. B. W. Richardson, in Exeter Hall, on
" Moderate Drinking."
I have heard several temperance speeches at con-
ventions or anniversaries, when I was to speak my-
self. I have never heard a literary lecture in America.
I have never attended a religious anniversary except
to speak myself, when I have occasionally heard short
speeches. At Sabbath school and Bible conventions
I have enjoyed brief addresses, but only under the
pressure of my own coming speech. I have never
attended a meeting of the American Board of Foreign
Missions. I have never heard a speech in Congress,
except on two or three occasions, for five or ten min-
utes at a time. Therefore I can give no opinion of
any speakers except the pulpit orators I have heard;
and, from the fact that I have generally travelled
eight months in the year, though I have listened to
some hundreds of ministers for a single sermon, I
have rarely been privileged to " sit under " the preach-
ing of any one man sufficiently to enable me to form
an opinion worthy of record. But I will endeavor to
recall my impressions of some I have been privileged
to hear, and perhaps allude to some of my chairmen
I have omitted in a former chapter.
The ministers I have heard in Great Britain are
Revs. Dr. Guthrie, of Edinburgh; William Arnot, of
24
386 DR. GUTHRIE'S PREACHING.
Glasgow; ISTewman Hall, of London; and Mr. Martin
of Westminster Chapel, London, on my first visit. I
heard Mr. Spurgeon and Rev. Dr. Parker, on my
second visit. With the exception of Mr. Spurgeon,
whom I heard only twice, I was a frequent attendant
on their ministrations. I heard occasionally single
sermons from notable men. In the United States I
have heard Rev. Dr. E. N". Kirk, of Boston; Rev. Dr.
Taylor, of New York; Rev. George Gould, D. D.,
of Worcester; and Rev. D. O. Mears, of the Pied-
mont Church, Worcester the latter church being
the place of my attendance, when at home, for the
past four years.
One of the most fascinating preachers I ever heard
was Dr. Guthrie, of Edinburgh. In 1853-55, 1857-
60, I listened to him often. It was difficult to get
into the church, every inch of room being occupied
that could be made available either for sitting or
standing. The doctor kindly gave me a pass, and
my wife and myself always found a good seat.
The audience was composed of the literary, philo-
sophical, scientific, and intellectual, with a fair show
of the commonplace ; for the preacher had a marvel-
lous power of adapting his discourse to the gratifica-
tion of the intellectual and to the understanding of
the common mind. The Duke of Argyle was often
there, and professors from the University. Truly the
rich and poor met together, for Dr. Guthrie was almost
worshipped by many of the denizens of the closes on
High Street, and no wonder; for, while he rebuked
the sins, he sympathized with the sorrows of poor
humanity.
It is well known that in his earnest desire to ame-
liorate the sufferings of poor neglected children he
APPROPRIATE TEARS. 387
was the founder of the Ragged School system. He
was also instrumental in introducing a pure water
supply into Edinburgh, a great boon to the poor ten-
ants of those lofty houses on High Street and the
closes of the Lawn Market and Canongate. It must
be often distressing to find those you seek to benefit
utterly oblivious of their advantages. It is related
that having asked a woman how she liked the water
introduced into the city, she said : " Aye, not so well
as I might; it's not like the water we had before, it
neither smells nor tastes."
His appearance in the pulpit was very striking;
and his manner was indescribable. I have seen him
stand, bending over the pulpit cushion, with his hands
stretched out toward the people, and heard him talk
with such amazing power, combined with such sweet-
ness, as drew all hearts towards him. I have never
liked to see a preacher cry in the pulpit, but tears
filling Dr. Guthrie's eyes seemed to be so appropriate
that at certain passages you would feel they were
necessary to the full eifect of his utterances.
After the preliminary exercises, which were very
solemn and tender, the people seemed to settle down
to listen, and then he would take his text. The first
time I heard him he said, when the audience was still :
" We all do fade as a leaf." Then there was a pause
amid the breathless silence of the congregation. See
him with his noble forehead; those magnificent eyes,
as he tenderly looks over that great assemblage, his
heart overflowing with tender sympathy and affec-
tion for those who were travelling to that "bourn
from which no traveller returns ! " Then with that
wonderful voice he repeats, with a deeper pathos and
a stronger Scotch accent, " We all do fade as a leaf."
Then he told us where to find his text.
388 "AND THEN IT STOPS."
The first words of his sermon were: "And the
earth helped the woman." I was wondering what
connection he could make with that and his selected
theme. It was to show that the Bible used every-
thing in nature as an illustration the " lily of the
valley," the " grass of the field," and the falling leaf;
and then he went on, and on, with that magnificent
voice, sometimes like " a thunder psalm among the
hills," then like the sigh of the wind among the
autumn trees; again like the sound of a trumpet,
then like the Eolian harp; again sharp, staccato, and
then seeming to struggle through a " mist of unshed
tears." Your eyes would fill in spite of yourself by
the power of his pathos.
One sentence he uttered that strangely moved me,
not by what he said, but by his method of saying it.
The sentence might have been written and spoken by
a schoolboy, but uttered as he uttered it only by a
genius. He had been speaking of the great law that
prohibits this wonderful combination of the machinery
of the human system working .on forever. Then
pausing a moment, and with his finger pointing down-
ward, he said, " No, it goes slower, and slower, and
slower, and then it STOPS," his voice growing
deeper in tone at every pause, till at the word stops
it seemed to me to be a deeper and more musical bass
than I ever heard from the highest artist. It seemed
as if I felt " the skin lift from the scalp to the ankles,
and every hair stand up and shiver," not by what he
said, but by his power in saying it.
I always hoped he might visit this country; but it
was not so to be. One of the delightful reminiscences
of my first visit to Britain was the acquaintance and
friendship I was permitted to enjoy with Dr. Guthrie.
FIGS OF THISTLES. 389
His admirable biography has been published; so I
have given only a few of my own impressions of him.
He presided several times at my meetings, and I
remember how amused he was when the secretary
said, "The Rev. Dr. Guthrie, author of the 'Sins and
Sorrows of the City,' will preside; and Professor
Miller, author of 'Alcohol/ will preside to-morrow
evening."
Another of the Scotch preachers was Rev. Wm.
Arnot, whose biography has been published in this
country. He entertained us for some days in Glas-
gow, and called upon us when he visited London. He
was very different, in almost every respect, from Dr.
Guthrie, yet not one whit below him in his influence
and power. He appealed to the intellect rather than
to the feelings, and yet at times he was very tender
in his appeals. His appearance I need not describe;
he has been seen often in the pulpits and on the plat-
forms of this country. His manner in the pulpit was
rather heavy and somewhat unwieldy. I know I had
a sensation of uneasiness when I first heard him.
His motions were not graceful, his gestures were
awkward, his pronunciation rather broadly provin-
cial. He distressed me at first by the jerking of the
elbow, the shrugging of the shoulders, the hesitation
in his utterance.
His text was, " Figs of thistles." I was held fast,
though the enjoyment was marred by his strange mo-
tions, and I said to my wife as we came out of the
church, " That was a grand sermon ; but I wish he
had kept still, and had not jerked his elbows so
strangely." But as to the effect of that sermon I can
truly say that for months after I heard it I turned in
no direction but right before me seemed to be the
390 LINCOLN TOWER.
words "Figs of thistles." Did I purpose entering
into my engagements or making any plans, " Figs of
thistles." He had the power, in spite of his peculi-
arities, to drive the truth into the hearts and con-
sciences of those who heard him. He was one of
the men I learned to love, and that with no effort on
my own part.
When in London, we heard Rev. Newman Hall
and Rev. Mr. Martin. Of Mr. Hall I say but little;
he has been heard extensively in this country. On
hearing him preach one is impressed with a conscious-
ness of his sincerity and large-heartedness. In his
appeals you feel that he is in earnest, meaning what
he says; and yet withal there is the beautiful sim-
plicity that has made his immortal work, " Come to
Jesus," so full of interest to thousands. I was his
guest when he was a pastor in Hull, before he came
to London. I heard him often in " Surrey Chapel,"
and on the last Sabbath spent in London in 1879
it was my privilege to speak in his new " Christ
Church," for the tower of which he gathered funds in
this country. It is a beautiful edifice, and " Lincoln
Tower " is worthy of the noble name it bears.
Rev. Mr. Martin of Westminster Chapel, at the time
I heard him, had become a power in the pulpit. We
were fortunate in obtaining a seat, which we occu-
pied, when in London, for two years. This chapel
was built amid many disagreeable surroundings in
Westminster, a very disreputable neighborhood, the
sights and sounds in the vicinity repulsive; yet in
spite of all this the chapel was crowded. The locality
is gradually changing for the better. Mr. Martin was
very solemn and devout in the pulpit, yet with an
exceeding sw r eet expression. At first he seemed cold
REV. SAMUEL MARTIN". 391
and rather commonplace; but that was only in the
introduction. As he unfolded his subject he fired up,
and with flashing eye he warned his auditors of the
consequences of sin, of the realities of the world to
come; using the plainest terms, and but few illustra-
tions, either hard logic or facts ; but with tenderness
and earnestness winning his way to the hearts of
those who heard, till they were convinced of his
strong desire to bring them to the truth. Occasion-
ally he would select the strangest texts, and you
would feel disappointed, in view of the conviction
in your own mind that nothing could be made of
such a passage. Once he took the passionate cry
of Job, "Am I a sea or a whale?" and from that
preached a most impressive sermon on God's care
for us, even in discipline. He was a fine reader,
and one morning I heard him read that very difficult
Psalm, the hundred and thirty-sixth, of twenty-eight
verses, each verse ending with, " For His mercy en-
dureth forever." , There was no monotony in his
reading, but rather a sweet monotone of musical
cadence that was fascinating.
As a writer has said, "A man of one book is always
a formidable foe ; " and Mr. Martin was emphatically
a man of one book. He sought for no notoriety;
was seldom heard out of his own pulpit; his only aim
appearing to be, and was, to make men feel that the
Bible is true, and to induce them to shape their lives
by its precepts. I spoke twice in his chapel, and on
my last visit to London missed him as one would miss
an old friend, remembering with gratitude the few
interviews I had with him, and thankful that I knew
and loved Samuel Martin. Kitchie says Mr. Martin
392 HOtf. JOHN BRIGHT.
might have sat for the portrait of Cowper's model
preacher.
" Simple, grave, sincere.
In doctrine uncorrupt ; in language plain,
And plain in manner ; decent, solemn, chaste,
And natural in gesture ; much impressed
Himself, as conscious of his awful charge;
And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds
May feel it too; affectionate in look,
And tender in address, as well becomes
A messenger of grace to guilty man."
These four preachers I heard and knew on my first
and second visit to Great Britain. "When I returned,
they were all gone but Rev. Newman Hall.
I recall some of my chairmen of those days, among
whom was Lord Shaftesbury, who presided on sev-
eral occasions, who still is a power for good in Eng-
land, one of the true nobility, a noble Christian gen-
tleman, whose kindness to me I shall never forget.
He was not a fluent speaker, but his presence was
mightier than speech, since all recognized in him a
self-denying servant of the Master.
Another of my chairmen, on three occasions, was
John Bright, almost as well known in this country as
in England. I heard him speak for nearly an hour at
Brymbo, in Wales. We were the guests of William
Henry Darby, of Brymbo Hall, and during our stay,
Mr. Bright, with quite a large and very pleasant
party, was with us for nearly a week.
Mr. Darby gave a feast to the workers in the ex-
tensive mines and iron-works, at which gathering
several speeches were made. Mr. Bright spoke on
the question of "labor and capital," showing how
necessary the one is for the other, and how suicidal
to create division between them, or to bring them into
LORD CHIEF BAROtf. 393
mutual antagonism. The speech was incisive and
clear as crystal; no redundance of words, but each
word necessary and appropriate. It is now twenty-
six years since I heard that speech, yet there remains
a very vivid recollection of its power. Often have I
wished I could hear him again, but the opportunity
has never been given.
Another of my chairmen, claiming more than a
passing notice, was Sir Fitzroy Kelly, now Lord
Chief Baron of England. When holding the office
of Her Majesty's Attorney-General, Sir Fitzroy en-
tertained me as his guest at his beautiful seat, the
" Chantreys," near Ipswich, and presided at my meet-
ings on two occasions. He has a very fine counte-
nance expressive of deep, earnest energy. There was
a wonderful power in his delivery. He stood per-
fectly still, no gesture, the thumb of his right hand
in his waistcoat-pocket, and he simply talked. I
could have listened to him for hours. His fine voice
was like the rippling of water on the bed of some
pebbly brook; and then suddenly changing his tone,
without moving from his position, his words came
with deep emphasis. He was a great Chancery lawyer.
He is a man of iron energy, and is by nature and
character keen, watchful, and wary. His demeanor
is marked by great gravity and dignity. As a host
he was genial, understanding thoroughly and prac-
tising the most graceful method for the ease and com-
fort of his guests. I have always felt grateful to him
for his kindness to me twenty-five years ago.
One of his guests, when I was at the Chantreys,
asked him how long he had ever spoken at one time.
The reply w'as, " I once spoke eight hours in a case
before the Lords. Their Lordships agreed to hear
394: DR. JOSEPH PARKER.
the case argued that day, provided it could be done
at one sitting; so I continued for eight hours, and
nothing passed my lips during that argument but the
juice of two oranges."
Rev. Joseph Parker, D.D., is a most remarkable
man, and a preacher of great power. I heard him
often, and always with great delight and profit. So
many and varied have been the opinions of Dr. Par-
ker, that I am induced to record my impressions as to
his power. I am not qualified to review him critically,
nor shall I claim to analyze his methods scientifi-
cally.
I have heard the remark, " Dr. Parker is an ego-
tist." "What man conscious of great power, with an
influence sufficient to establish and maintain a church
so complete in all its appointments, and with the
ability to keep an audience week after week, and year
after year, filling the spacious edifice, with no diminu-
tion but rather an increase, till the place is becoming
too strait for the accommodation of the crowds eager
to listen; sustaining a Thursday noon lecture, attended
by thoughtful men who crave and can only be satisfied
with strong meat, and being able to meet the demands
of the intellectual throngs who attend his ministry; I
ask, what man conscious of all this, must not neces-
sarily be self-confident, or rather self-reliant, and that
not offensively? There are some men so painfully
conscious of their defects, shortcomings, and failings,
as not to realize and be thankful for the gifts God has
given them, but are so excessively humble that their
superfluity of humility is as painful to witness as the
egotism of another.
Dr. Parker never enters the pulpit with an apolo-
getic air, as if he would say, " I come to tell you what
FORMS OF EGOTISM. 395
I think, diffidently to give you the result of my guess-
ings, and to submit with deference the result of my
studies, in all humility, to the test of your superior
judgment;" but he appears as "one having author-
ity;" as if he would say to his people, "I come to
instruct, to tell what I know, and what I have attained
by close study. I have given to this subject my best
thoughts; and, by hard searching, have obtained the
best thoughts of the wisest men. Having condensed
all this into the compass of a half-hour's discourse, I
invite your closest attention, that you may be wiser
at the close of my sermon than when you entered this
house."
For my part, I prefer the teacher who will lay his
hand on me with an authority, and say, "Listen to
me and you will be a wiser man," to the other who ap-
proaches me with a humility that will lessen my con-
fidence in his ability to instruct. I believe an affecta-
tion of humility is one of the most offensive forms of
egotism, and Dr. Parker will never sin in that direc-
tion.
~No one who has seen Dr. Parker in his home would
judge him to be an egotist. One day's charming visit
at his house can never be forgotten. No restraint was
laid upon us in the society of himself and wife in their
genial and hospitable home. They gave us a most
cordial greeting. It would hardly suit the ideas of
some persons if I should say that Dr. Parker was
childlike I do not mean childish. It was simplicity
with dignity, no assumption of superiority; he was
not there the teacher, but the friend, manifesting a
deference to others' opinions that surprised me. I
have known some men, supposed to be great men,
who seemed to be seeking an opportunity to exhibit
396 AET ORIGINAL PREACHER.
their ability by drawing you out just far enough to
afford them the chance of humbling you. I have
been, on more than one occasion, so contradicted,
snubbed, put down, by some self-important, imperious
egotist, that I have lost respect for my tormentor,
and indulged in a little retaliation as my defence.
"With Dr. Parker, at his own house, there was not
the slightest assumption of superiority, although he
knew that in intellect he was a giant in comparison.
During the course of conversation I remarked, " You
exhibit many striking peculiarities in your pulpit de-
livery." He said, " I should not be Joseph Parker if
I did not, but (laying his hand on my shoulder) come
here, my dear fellow, and tell me of my peculiarities;"
and we sat together, and talked for a long time with
perfect freedom.
" What do you think of Dr. Parker as a preacher?"
I have heard no preacher like him. He is different
from all others; he has marked out a path for himself;
he is an original. I cannot compare him with other
great pulpit orators, since I have not heard them
sufficiently to institute such a comparison. I have
walked twice on the Sabbath from Piccadilly to Hoi-
born Yiaduct, a distance of two miles each way, and
been amply repaid for my eight miles' walk.
Let me give my impressions on hearing him for the
first time. He was not an entire stranger to me, as
he had very kindly taken the pains to call at my
" Hillside " home with his wife, when they were in
this country some years since, and I have always been
grateful to him for the trouble he took to see us in the
midst of many pressing engagements in all direc-
tions. When he rose in the pulpit he stood motion-
less, his face almost rigid as marble no expression,
PECULIAR rUI.riT MANNERS. 397
reminding one of the "silent oracle." His first
words revealed a magnificent voice. The reading of
the hymn convinced you that he had studied elocu-
tion. The impressive manner in which he uttered the
sentence, " Let us worship God," showed his perfect
control over every intonation; and the reading of the
Scriptures manifested his knowledge of the power of
appropriate emphasis. The prayer was beyond and
above criticism. God was the Father, ready to be-
stow: man was the needy one; Christ was the medi-
ator, through whom all petitions must be offered, and
all blessings must flow. The phraseology of the
prayer was to me rather unusual, but so perfectly in-
telligent and appropriate that the heart responded to
every utterance.
In the beginning of his discourse I was disturbed
and annoyed by his manner, entirely new to me
thoroughly different from anything I had ever seen;
but I soon forgot his manner in the intense interest
awakened by the sermon. I will not attempt a de-
scription, except to say that he introduced that scene
where the servant of Elisha in his trouble said, "Alas,
my master, how shall we do?" And the prophet
answered, " Fear not, for they that be with us are
more than they that be against us. And Elisha
prayed that the servant's eyes should be opened, and
he saw, and behold the mountains were full of chariots
of fire round about Elisha." His description was so
vivid and took such hold of me, that on the next
evening, while speaking to a large audience, I felt
compelled to use it. I told the people that having
heard Dr. Parker the day before, he had so revealed
to me the beauty and grandeur of the event, that I
could find no better illustration of the faithfulness of
398 POWERFUL SENTENCES.
God to his people, and the certainty of His unseen
protection in the midst of enemies when we are en-
gaged in His work.
Dr. Parker's utterances of sentences occasionally
are wonderful in their power, often startling and very
impressive, producing a permanent effect on the mind.
I heard him once describe hell according to the bib-
lical description. " The worm that dieth not, the fire
that is not quenched." " I will not," said he, " abate
one word, or explain away the awful meaning of the
'weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth;' of the
f bottomless pit,' for it must be bottomless if the soul
is immortal. I will bring them all before you, this
fire, this weeping and wailing, this undying worm,
this bottomless pit;" and then with an indescribable
gesture, with his finger pointing as if towards this
aggregation of horrors, he said, " There there is
God's testimony against sin." At another time he was
speaking of sins of presumption. "Deliberate, wilful
sin what is it? It is a shut hand, a clenched fist,
an upraised arm, the muscles to their full tension, and
the object God Almighty's face ! " A thrill passed
through that audience; there was a deep-drawn sigh
audible in every direction; and I must confess that
never before had I such an idea of sin, presump-
tuous sin against God, as in these two striking pas-
On one occasion, after repeating his text from Jere-
miah vi. 16, " Thus saith the Lord, Stand ye in the
ways and see and ask for the old paths, where is the
good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest to
your souls," he said, " Would you like to hear the old
preachers? Yes. Once!" and that word once was
uttered with an amazing power. Then he went on
GONE! GONE! GOING! 399
most fearlessly to condemn the milk-and-water preach-
ing of half truths, &c. Another time he commenced
his discourse by asking, " Where did Jesus Christ
get his texts?" when he gave us a beautiful illustra-
tion of the adaptation of Christ's words to every
phase of human character that He addressed.
Once, speaking of the bulwarks that were being
broken down in these days of lax living and lax doc-
trine in the church, he said of one doctrine after
another, " Gone! the Devil, gone! and God going!"
~No one can imagine the power and force of the
utterance of the words I have italicized but those
who have heard him. As a preacher he stands apart
from all other men. In this country, he produced a
marked sensation. The more I heard him, the more
I desired to hear him. What I have said has been
simply the recording of my own opinions; for what-
ever criticisms there may have been of him and his
preaching, I have never seen them.
CHAPTEK XXVIII.
MEN I HAVE KNOWN (CONTINUED) . SPURGEON.
AMERICAN CLERGYMEN.
C. H. Spurgeon: Early History His First Sermon "Who is this
Spurgeon ? " Park Chapel and Exeter Hall The Metropolitan Tab-
ernacle Publication of Fifteen Hundred Sermons The Man a
Miracle Public Institutions for Missions and Benevolence The
Beautiful Work of Mrs. Spurgeon Pedigree of Pulpit Story Min-
isters must be " Thick-Skinned " Anecdotes Spurgeon a Total- Ab-
stainer Boys' Orphanage at Stockwell Reception of Mr. Spurgeon
The Little Consumptive True Greatness Som-ces of Power as a
Preacher The Book of Books Comments on Proverbs Tale-
Bearers and Dissemblers Mr. Spurgeon and the Dog Edward
Norris Kirk, D.D. Oratory and Elocution Our Last Interview
Elocution sometimes a Hindrance George H. Gould. D.D. Rev.
David O. Mears William M. Taylor, D.D. Power with the Script-
ures Helpful Themes Theodore L. Cuyler, D.D. Preacher and
Correspondent.
of the most remarkable men I have
been privileged to know is C. H. Spur-
geon. His has been a career thus far
unparalleled in the history of minis-
ters. His educational advantages were
very limited: four years in a common
school in Colchester, and a few months
at an agricultural college at Maidstone.
After he had begun to preach he was
strongly advised to enter Stepney College, to prepare
more fully for the ministry; and an appointment was
400
THE FIRST SERMOX. 401
made to meet Dr. Angus, the tutor. Mr. Spurgeon
went to the place appointed, that of Macmillan, the
publisher, and after waiting in a room for two
hours, rang the bell, and asked the reason of the de-
lay. The servant informed him that the Doctor had
waited in another room till he was tired, and had gone
away. Thus ended all efforts for a classical educa-
tion.
His first sermon was preached under peculiar cir-
cumstances. In 1851 he was asked to walk with a
young man, whom Ije supposed to be the preacher, to
a village four miles away. While on his way, the
young man expressed the hope that God would bless
him in his labor.
" Oh, dear," said he, " I never preached in my life ;
I never thought of doing such a thing. I was asked
to walk with you, and I sincerely hope you will be
blessed in your labor."
" Nay, but I never preached, and I don't know that
I could do anything of the sort."
So they walked on, as he says, his soul all in a
trouble as to what would happen. But when they
found the congregation assembled, and no one there
to preach though he was but sixteen years old he
did preach from the text, " Unto you that believe, He
is precious." A gentleman who heard him then, says,
" he wore a round jacket and turn-down collar."
He continued to preach after that, constantly, and
was settled over the little church at Waterbeach, on
a very meagre salary. One of the deacons of Park
Street church, Southwark, in which Dr. Rippon had
preached for sixty-three years, heard Mr. Spurgeon
deliver an address at a Sunday-school anniversary,
and such was the effect produced that he soon after
25
402 METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE.
received a call to Park Street church. His first ser-
mon was preached to about two hundred people in a
church with sittings for twelve hundred. Before three
months, the question in London was and I remem-
ber it well in 1854 " Who is this Spurgeon? "
In one year Park chapel was enlarged, during
which time he preached in Exeter Hall. It was in
this hall that I first heard of him as a young man
drawing immense audiences. He had secured the ear
and attention of the people. In 1856 Park chapel
was entirely inadequate to receive the crowds who
flocked to him, and the Royal Surrey Gardens' Music
Hall was engaged. Here he preached to ten or twelve
thousand persons every Sunday morning, until his
present spacious edifice was finished.
The " Metropolitan Tabernacle " was formally
opened in March, 1861. It seats five thousand five
hundred persons, with standing room for a thousand
more. When the church removed from Park chapel,
it consisted of eleven hundred and seventy-eight
members. In 1877 the membership was five thou-
sand one hundred and fifty-two. The immense amount
of work performed by this one man is astonishing.
He has published fifteen hundred sermons in volumes,
and more than a hundred singly. He has also pub-
lished a commentary upon the Psalms in five volumes,
called the " Treasury of David." In addition to these
he has issued sixteen other works, besides compiling
a hymn-book, conducting a monthly magazine, and
writing prefaces and introductions to scores of other
men's works.
People say, "Ah, he is not an educated man."
Speaking to a lady of title about him, she said, " But
is he not quite vulgar? "
VAUIOUS INSTITUTIONS. 403
Let the experience of a quarter of a century de-
monstrate! Let the list of his works determine! No
man of education has done more for the extension of
the kingdom of Christ by the publication of valuable
and instructive books than he; and the uniform tes-
timony of the press confirms the high excellence of
his writings. In short, he is and I told him so a
miracle to me.
I should fill a volume were I to speak of his Pas-
tors' College, his Orphanage for Boys, where he has
two hundred and forty; and an orphanage just opened
for girls; his Colportage Association; his Tabernacle
alms-houses ; then the institutions connected with the
Tabernacle; the Building-fund to help poor churches
to build; a German mission, supporting two mission-
aries; a mission to the Jews; missions in Golden
Lane, Richmond Street, Green Walk, James' Grove;
a blind mission, a mother's mission, a Baptist country
mission; Evangelists' Association; the Loan Tract
Society; General Loan Tract Society; the Rock Loan
Tract Society; the Ordinance Poor-fund; the Ladies'
Benevolent Society; Home and Foreign Missionary
"Working Society, all at work, and all alive.
Then I must not forget the beautiful work of Mrs.
Spurgeon, who has been an invalid for years ; but who
in her weakness and pain has instituted and carried
out a plan for providing destitute ministers with
books, and occasionally with money.
Mr. Spurgeon has had a reputation for eccentricity
fastened upon him, in common with many other popu-
lar preachers. As he says, "Throw mud enough,
and some of it will be sure to stick." It is interesting
to trace the pedigree of a pulpit story, though it is
not often possible to discover its actual parent; like
404 UNTRUTHFUL STORIES.
Topsy, they may say, " I growed." He says, " These
same anecdotes occur from age to age, but they are
tucked on to different men. Liars ought to have good
memories, that they may recollect that they have
already assigned a story to some one else."
I once asked him in reference to several tales I had
heard of him, whether they were true whether he
ever said, on entering the pulpit, " It's d d hot
this morning." He said, " Never, never ; " and yet
some time after I heard a clergyman relate this story,
and when I told him of Mr. Spurgeon's denial of it,
he said, " My friend heard him say it, and I believe
my friend." He was once represented as sliding down
the balustrades of his pulpit! and he says he never
gave even the remotest occasion for the falsehood, and
yet he hears of persons who were present when he did
it, and saw him perform the silly trick. Mr. Spurgeon
says " that a minister who is much before the people
has need to be thick-skinned." A literary gentleman
sent me what he called authentic stories of Mr. Spur-
geon. When I was with him, I asked him about
them. Not one of them was true.
He is very fond of a joke, and there is a comical
twinkling of the eye when he perpetrates one, that is
irresistible, reminding you of Sam "Weller's winks
that always cause a laugh, though we are utterly
ignorant of the cause of the winking.
On one occasion an artist had drawn a sketch of
him, and brought it for his inspection. Looking at
it, he said:
" Ah, this is very well ; but women and fools are,
they say, the best judges of these things, so I must
hunt up somebody."
Just then up came one of Mr. Spurgeon's deacons.
A TROUBLESOME CUSTOMER. 405
"Ah, brother, you are just in time; what do you
think of this sketch of me?"
Another artist wished to make an engraving of
him.
" I hope," said Mr. Spurgeon, " you will not make
it an expensive one ; the public would not give more
than twopence for me. A friend of mine, to do me
honor, published a photograph of me at eighteen
pence, and he lost a lot of money by it."
I think these anecdotes show that he is one of the
most natural of men, with no false pride or starch
about him. He says just what he thinks in the most
natural and homely manner. He is a troublesome
customer to pompous people who fancy themselves
somebodies, when they are nothing of the kind.
The strangest stories have been in circulation with
regard to his drinking. I am glad to be able to say,
that I know he is at present, and has been for some
time, a total abstainer; and that when he took stimu-
lants, it was by his physician's prescription. When
he took it he made no secret of his course, but freely
spoke of it wherever he might be.
Personally, he is fascinating. He may not be called
prepossessing; there is nothing finical about him, not
the shadow of a sham. Some one has said, " his face
is heavy," but when illuminated by a smile, it is beau-
tiful. His first greeting captured me. I think the
few hours spent with him were as delightful and
profitable as any in my life. He is full of genial
humor. His laugh is infectious. Yet with all his
wit and fun, with the keenest faculty of seeing the
ludicrous side of things, there is no unbecoming
levity. It would not shock you if after a hearty
406 REQUIREMENTS FOR ADMISSION".
laugh he should say, "Let us have a word of
prayer."
I would like to give you one incident to illustrate
the man in his greatness and simplicity. He wished
me to visit his Boys' Orphanage, at Stockwell. I could
go only on Saturday, and his note to me was charac-
teristic.
" Beloved friend: Although I never go out on Saturdays, my horses
being under the law and not under grace, keep the seventh day Sabbath,
yet we will arrange to visit," etc.
A beautiful day it was for London as we rode to-
gether, chatting all the way. The history of the
Orphanage is intensely interesting. The commence-
ment was a sum of ^20,000 to Mr. Spurgeon, from a
lady, to commence an orphanage for fatherless boys.
All the money that has been expended has been raised
by voluntary contribution, and the 20,000 is invested
as an endowment. When we entered the grounds, the
boys set up a shout of joy at the sight of their bene-
factor.
I asked, "What are the requirements for admis-
sion? "
He said, "Utter destitution. Nothing denomina-
tional. We have more of the church of England than
of the Baptists. We have Roman Catholics, Presby-
terians, Methodists all sorts."
After the boys had gone through their gymnastic
exercises and military drill, I spoke a few words to
them. Mr. Spurgeon was like a great boy among
boys.
He said, " There are two hundred and forty boys
only think! How many pence are there in a shil-
ling?"
" Twelve."
A PEITNT APIECE. 407
"Right. How many shillings in a pound?"
" Twenty."
" Right. Twelve times twenty, how many? "
" Two hundred and forty."
" That's a penny a piece for each boy."
" Here, Mr. Charlesworth," handing him a sovereign,
" give these boys a penny apiece ; " when a shrill
hearty hurrah was given, as Mr. Spurgeon turned
away with a laugh of keen enjoyment.
"Will you go to the infirmary? We have an in-
firmary and quarantine ; for sometimes the poor creat-
ures we take in need a good deal of purifying. We
have one boy very ill with consumption ; he cannot live,
and I wish to see him, for he would be disappointed
if he knew I had been here and had not seen him."
We went into the cool and sweet chamber, and
there lay the boy. He was very much excited when
he saw Mr. Spurgeon. The great preacher sat by his
side, and I cannot describe the scene. Holding the
boy's hand in his, he said:
" Well, my dear, you have some precious promises
in sight all around the room. Now, dear, you are
going to die, and you are very tired lying here, and
soon you will be free from all pain, and you will
rest. Nurse, did he rest last night? "
" He coughed very much."
" Ah, my dear boy, it seems very hard for you to
lie here all day in pain, and cough all night. Do you
love Jesus? "
" Yes."
" Jesus loves you. He bought you with His pre-
cious blood, and He knows what is best for you. It
seems hard for you to lie here and listen to the shouts
of the healthy boys outside at play. But soon Jesus
408 "WOULD YOU LIKE A CANARY?"
will take you home, and then He will tell you the
reason, and you will be so glad."
Then, laying his hand on the boy, without the for-
mality of kneeling, he said, " O Jesus, Master, this
dear child is reaching out his thin hand to find thine.
Touch him, dear Saviour, with thy loving, warm clasp.
Lift him as he passes the cold river, that his feet be
not chilled by the water of death; take him home in
thine own good time. Comfort and cherish him till
that good time comes. Show him thyself as he lies
here, and let him see thee and know thee more and
more as his loving Saviour."
After a moment's pause he said, "Now, dear, is
there anything you would like? Would you like a
little canary in a cage to hear him sing in the morn-
ing? Nurse, see that he has a canary to-morrow
morning. Good-bye, my dear; you will see the Sav-
iour perhaps before I shall."
I had seen Mr. Spurgeon holding by his power
sixty-five hundred persons in a breathless interest; I
knew him as a great man universally esteemed and
beloved ; but as he sat by the bedside of a dying pau-
per child, whom his beneficence had rescued, he was
to me a greater and grander man than when swaying
the mighty multitude at his will.
I need not describe Mr. Spurgeon's preaching; very
few Americans visit London without hearing him.
So much has been written and published in the United
States of him and his sermons that the people of this
country are familiar with him as one of our own peo-
ple. I am most impressed with the simplicity, free-
dom, fearlessness, earnestness, and naturalness of his
preaching. He has more heart than eloquence, and
illustrates the truth of his own words " eloquence of
WORLDLY WISDOM. 411
the most lofty kind is mere sound unless there be love
in the speaker's heart to give weight to his words
better to have a loving heart than to speak twenty
languages."
He has a powerful, rich, and melodious voice under
perfect control. Twelve thousand people have heard
him distinctly in the open air, and twenty thousand in
the Crystal Palace. He does not aim to be a great
preacher, but is a man of wonderful attraction and
marvellous power.
The first time I heard him he preached from the
passage, "Who forgiveth all thine iniquities." The
sermon was remarkable for directness, simplicity, and
earnestness. "When he quoted the passage, " As far
as the east is from the west, so far hath He removed
our transgressions from us," he said, " How glorious
is this statement! If it had been as far as the South
is from the !N"orth it would have been an immense dis-
tance; but no, it is as far as the East is from the West,
an immeasurable distance." From the first sentence
to the last he held the attention and left an impression
not easily effaced. I think I never met a man who
seemed more in this world and less of it. He feels
that his work is among men, and while his associa-
tions here are with the earth, yet his conversation, his
citizenship is in Heaven.
His various institutions show his worldly wisdom
in all their managements; and in their inception and
maintenance they manifest in truth the wisdom that
coineth down from above that " layeth up treasure
where neither moth nor rust can corrupt, and where
thieves cannot break through nor steal." I regret
not having heard more of his pulpit ministrations;
but among my library treasures are the twenty-four
412 TREASURY OF DAVID.
choice volumes of his sermons, all the more prized
because personally given by him. We have his " Trea-
sury of David," and use at our family devotions his
" Interpreter." We enjoy and profit by his comments
on the passages selected for reading. They may not
be profound, but they are simple and enlightening.
The children may understand them, the language
often of every-day life, bringing the Bible near us as
the book to be read and understood and believed,
not to be read once or twice a day in a constrained
tone and with ceremony, but a book for every day,
a book not given to bewilder, but to comfort and in-
struct, yet withal a book so deep and profound that
the highest intellects on earth find it worthy of their
earnest study, while the "wayfaring man though a
fool need not err therein."
Many of his comments are pithy, striking, quaint,
and full of marrow and instruction. Take the com-
ments on Proverbs xxvi. 17-28. I read this the
other evening at family worship, and was so pleased
with his running comments that I cannot refrain
from inserting here a few specimens :
20th verse. "Where no wood is, there the fire goeth out; so where
there is no tale-bearer the strife ceaseth." His comment is: "Do not
talk about it and it will die out. No hurt ever comes from holding our
tongues ; silly tattling causes much sorrow. If we will not reply, those
who slander us will tire of their dirty work, or will be powerless for mis-
chief. Evil speaking seldom injures those who take no notice of it. Do
not find fagots for your own burning. Let the tale-bearers alone, and
their fire will go out for want of fuel."
21st verse. " As coals are to burning coals, and wood to fire, so is a
contentious man to kindle strife." His comment is: " Wherever he is,
quai-relling begins, or being already commenced, it is fanned to a fiercer
flame. He is a stoker for Satan's fires. Let us never grow like him."
24tf7i verse. " He that hateth dissembleth with his lips, and layeth up
deceit within him." His comment is: "He is brooding mischief, and
storing up revenge, yet he speaks fairly. He hangs out the sign of the
angel, but the devil keeps his house."
THE NEIGHBOR'S DOG. 413
25th verse. " When he speaketh fair, believe him not : for there are
seven abominations in his heart." His comment is : " All kinds of evils
lurk in a dissembler's soul. The man's heart is a hell, full of evil spirits,
the forge of Satan, the workshop of all mischief. Whenever any one
flatters us let us fly from him at once, and avoid him for the future. He
would not spin so fine a web if he did not wish to catch a fly."
28th verse. "A lying tongue hateth those that are afflicted by it; and
a flattering mouth worketh ruin." His comment is : " It is the nature of
ill-will to hate those whom it injures. Hurt another, and you will dis-
like him, benefit him and you will love him. Above all things abhor
flattery, for he who uses this detestable art is surely plotting your over-
throw. Young people should learn this lesson early, or their ignorance
may cost them dear."
His illustrations are very simple, principally drawn
from real human life, or incidents that are constantly
occurring, or in experiences to which all are liable.
I give one on " Trust," how impossible to scorn or
turn away from any that trust you. He describes a
garden in which he took great delight; but a neigh-
bor's dog would occasionally burst through the hedge
that separated the grounds and do no small damage
at such times. He was thoroughly vexed as one day,
while he was enjoying the garden after planting some
fresh seeds in one bed, and anticipating a fine crop of
flowers in the other, this dog bounded through the
hedge and tore over the newly-seeded beds to their
great damage. He was quite angry at this, and seiz-
ing a stick, hurled it at the animal. The dog stopped,
looked at Mr. Spurgeon, and, wagging his tail, picked
up the stick in his mouth, and trotting up to him, laid
it at his feet, and looking in his face pushed his nose
in his hand. " Now," said Mr. Spurgeon, " could I
punish that dog, or drive him out of my garden?
No ; I patted him, and said, ' Good dog, come into
my garden when you will,' because he trusted me."
I have spoken of Mr. Spurgeon at length, for " take
him for all in all, we ne'er shall look upon his like
414 REV. E. N. KIRK, D.D.
again," and I rejoice in the privilege of such a friend-
ship. In a recent letter to me he says : " May the
Lord ever bless and keep you and yours, and may the
divine appointment arrange us somewhere near each
other in the land where sinners washed in blood be-
hold the face of the Well-beloved. Yours very heart-
ily and gratefully, C. H. Spurgeon."
When a boy, I had heard Dr. Nathan Bangs, Dr.
Durbin, Rev. Wilbur Fisk, President of Middletown
College, Bishop Waugh, and other celebrated preach-
ers of the Methodist church, forty-five years ago, and
to this day I have clear recollections of their style,
appearance, and mode of preaching. But the preacher
who first interested me in my early manhood was Dr.
E. N". Kirk, of Boston, with whose church I united
in 1845,. and on whose roll of membership the names
of my wife and myself are still left. Though we
reside so far away that we can hardly be numbered
with the congregation, we hold the most friendly rela-
tions to the present pastor, Rev. Dr. Herrick.
It is not my purpose to speak of Dr. Kirk as a
preacher, since his biographer, in his admirable " Life
of Edward Morris Kirk, D.D.," has given an analysis
of his power as a minister, which is complete and ex-
haustive, supplemented by the testimonies of others,
prominent among which is a sketch by Leonard
Bacon, D.D. This chapter, the 15th, is exceedingly
interesting. I could not add one word to it. It was
written by one who was his intimate friend, who knew
him well, and whose ability to portray the great
preacher, and present to us a vivid picture of the
popular pulpit orator, is manifest on every page.
To me Dr. Kirk was a loving friend and faithful
pastor. In my darkest experience, in the sickness
"JOHN, COME NEAR ME." 415
nigh unto death that prostrated me, he stood by, full
of purest sympathy, unfolding to me the words of
Christ. For many seasons he was a frequent visitor
at Hillside. On such occasions we often arranged
his writing-desk on the piazza, that he might prepare
his sermons amid the singing of birds and the odor
of flowers, with the hills and woods in the distance.
He was a natural speaker, having little or no need
of elocutionary training; still he had almost a passion
for oratory and elocution. He often encouraged young
men in their studies in that direction. The last time
I ever saw him was when, at his invitation, I went to
his house to hear a young man read. He sat in his
chair, hardly able to distinguish objects in the room,
and listened intently to the young man's reading, and
then asked if I could not encourage him by giving
him a favorable opinion of his powers.
When the young man had departed, he said, "Now,
John, come near me, that I may see you better. How
are you? How is your soul's health? Is Jesus pre-
cious? Oh, as this world grows dim, and I strain my
poor eyes to discover objects, how bright and glorious
is the New Jerusalem, where the Lamb is the light
thereof." He gave me his benediction, and I saw him
no more, but his last words to me were very pre-
cious.
I spoke of his interest in elocution. I think his
study of that art was a hindrance rather than a help ;
it modified his naturalness, and gave him what ap-
peared a somewhat stilted manner, and diminished
that " abandon " which was always such a power. In
proportion as he followed closely the rules of oratory
or elocution, did he fail in effectiveness ; at least,
this was my opinion. I remember that, on more than
416 ORATORY VS. ELOCUTION".
one occasion, while listening with interest, impressed
perhaps more by the beauty of his diction, his grace
of gesture, and studied intonations, than by the sub-
ject, he would suddenly lift up his face, and in the
forgetfulness of all rules would for a few minutes
pour out his soul in pleading, or in rapt inspiration
tell of the glories of Christ. Losing sight of himself,
he became absorbed in his theme. He appeared as
God's messenger to dying men, and the full power of
the truth took possession of every heart. His natural
oratory seemed to me as much preferable to his studied
elocution, as the natural waterfall is to the artificial
cascade. But if this was a blemish, it was only one
that was simply a foil to his marvellous excellences.
He did a great work, and has gone home to his
reward, with many stars in the crown of his re-
joicing.
In 1856, I first met Kev. George H. Gould, D. D.,
and was fascinated by his preaching. He is emo-
tional, with no sensationalism; he speaks with an
earnestness that convinces you he believes all he
utters, with a deep pathos revealing the tenderness of
his own nature, an eloquence perfectly natural, a face
radiant at times when he utters some lofty thought.
He has no monotonous repetitions; there is nothing
stale or conventional in his preaching. He reaches
the intellect and the heart, and were it not for his
health he would have been one of the widely-known
popular preachers of the day.
Rev. D. O. Mears, of Worcester, who is my home
pastor, is a man who strikes right out boldly and fear-
lessly at sin in all its forms. Affectionate and genial
in his nature, he is a stern rebuker of evil. He tells
the truth with plainness; he is profitable to hear; he
HELPED AND COMFORTED. 417
preaches as a man to men ; he shows that Christianity
is for the counting-house as well as for the prayer-
meeting, for the week-day as well as for the Sabbath,
for the world as well as for the church. He wrote the
biography of Dr. E. N". Kirk, a work which has been
very favorably received.
I could speak largely of Rev. Wm. M. Taylor, D.D.,
of 'New York, but he is extensively known by his
public ministrations, and by his published works, so
that nothing remains but to give a few personal im-
pressions. I have often timed my visit to New York,
that I might spend the Sabbath there, and hear him
preach. No man ever opened up the Scriptures to
me as he does. By the emphasis of a word, he reveals
to you the deep, true meaning of the passage. His
sermons are adapted to the wants of humanity; the
human soul craves sympathy, the human heart needs
help and comfort and encouragement to be lifted, to
be led upwards toward the divine. I have been tried
and tempted, or troubled and oppressed, by unex-
pected cares ; I am disappointed ; I have been in dark-
ness all the week, yet groping for light; I have human
wants, desires, hopes, fears. I cry out for help, hu-
man help. I go to church. Of what value to me is
a discourse on heroism, patriotism, the Jews, or the
Catholics, at such a time? Merely husks to a hungry
man. Whenever I go to the Tabernacle, I am helped
and comforted. The prayer is from a human soul
experienced in the trials and temptations of human
life. I am led in the devotional exercises out of my
own dreary thoughts to the throne of the heavenly
grace, into the presence-chamber of the King, to talk
with Him who is my surety, and thus I am in a
measure prepared for the sermon, which is often a
418 AN ATTRACTIVE PREACHER.
feast of fat things to my soul, in which there is a por-
tion for every one in due season. As a friend who
has counselled me wisely for years, and as a minister
of Christ who has helped me so essentially in my
Christian life and experience, I reverence and love
him, and to me he is above all criticism. The remem-
brance of my indebtedness to him will never fade.
His numerous published works are a valuable addition
to any library.
Dr. Theodore L. Cuyler is an attractive preacher.
I have known him for thirty-six years. In 1844 I first
met him, at Princeton, when he was a theological stu-
dent. I visited him in his first manse at Burlington,
then many times in Trenton, afterwards in IsTew York,
when he was at the Market Street church, and since
his settlement in the Lafayette Street church, Brook-
lyn. Though for years I have known him intimately,
I have seldom heard him preach.
There are some ministers who commence their ser-
mons in so striking a manner as to give promise of
an intellectual and effective discourse. It is disap-
pointing to find that in the first few sentences you
have heard the best of the sermon all there is of it
worth remembering; for the preacher soon begins to
drift out into a sea of platitudes, and the conclusion
becomes so lame and impotent that the effect is dis-
couraging and unprofitable. Others begin in a puny
style, and reach the height of their discourse about
midway, and then descend to the puny style of the
beginning, reminding you of the
" King of France with twenty thousand men
Marched up the hill and then marched down again."
Dr. Cuyler secures the attention of the people at
STRIKING EXORDIUM. 419
first, starting, perhaps by a stirring illustration, or the
relation of some fact or an allusion to some current
event; but he holds his congregation to the end; and
the conclusion only serves to impress on the heart
and memory the truths he has uttered, and the pero-
ration is often more striking than the exordium. I
once heard him preach on Charity, when he began
thus : " There was a mob at Jerusalem ; " and after
very graphically describing the martyrdom of Stephen,
the dragging him out of the city, the stoning, until
you almost saw the whole tragedy, he spoke of the
bruised, broken body; and then most impressively
said, " Hear him, t Lord lay not this sin to their
charge.' That's charity!" Then he gave a forcible
exposition of the power and beauty of charity, rivet-
ing the attention of the audience to the last word
of the discourse.
Dr. Cuyler is better known to me personally as a
correspondent than as a preacher. I have read many
of Horace AValpole's letters, all of Cowper's that are
published, a large proportion of Charles Lamb's, but
in my opinion, Dr. Cuyler's letters, of which I have a
large package, are superior to them all. If selections
from his correspondence with different individuals for
the last thirty-five years were published, they would
constitute one of the most readable books of the sea-
son. I often read passages from his letters to my
friends, who always listen with delight. One I have
nearly memorized by frequent perusal, written to me
from his dismantled study in Trenton the last letter
he wrote in it; in which, calling up the precious mem-
ories connected with the place he was leaving for-
ever, he paints a charming picture of the faces of the
dear friends who had been his guests, and with whom
26
420 FAITHFUL AND TRUE.
he had held sweet converse. From 1844 till now he
has been my faithful friend, through evil as well as
good report, in storm and sunshine, always loyal
and true, and never failing in his fearless defence
of the right. I hold him in my heart as a brother
beloved.
CHAPTER XXIX.
OLD-TIME AND MODERN PREACHERS. WORDS WITH
AND WITHOUT SENSE.
Sheridan Knowles Varied Pulpit Ministrations Old-time Discourses
Quaint old Books Travesty on the Little Busy Bee The Pla-
giarized Sermon Sermon on the Slothful Man " Awake Pesaltery-
tree and Harp" "Who were the Patriarchs?" Grandiloquent
Oratory Exordium upon Intemperance " Wrecked on the Tem-
pestuous Sea" The baneful Upas-Tree The Drunkard's Career
on the Broad Road Peroration The Nobleman's Speech and Ob-
servations Speech of an Agitator " Bruce the King of England "
" Battles of Greasy and Potters " " Pass round the Hat."
.HERIDAK KNOWLES has been de-
scribed as "a shrewd, sharp-looking
old gentleman, who takes a text but
remotely connected with his discourse.
JL You listen with great interest at first.
The speaker is apparently very argu-
mentative, and nods his head at the
conclusion of each sentence in a most
decided manner, as if to intimate very con-
siderably the best of the argument. Now this is all
very well for five minutes, or even ten ; but lasting an
hour with no heads for you to remember you
naturally grow very weary. His sermons are bundles
of little bits of arguments, tied up together as a heap
of old sticks, and just as dry. He was but a very
moderate preacher."
How faithful a portrait of some of the preachers at
this day, let some of the sufferers testify. I have
421
422 LONG AND SHOUT SERMONS.
occasionally heard from pulpits a string of common-
places and bald truisms with no application. I have
heard sermons, dry, without one word of help or
comfort, without one particle of spiritual food to allay
the heart-hunger, with no suggestive thoughts; bar-
ren of ideas, as a dead stick is barren of leaves; and
I have felt if I heard no preaching but that, my life
would become a dull, dreary monotony, never rising
above the plodding existence so utterly earthly. I
have heard sermons from men entirely oblivious of
grammar, who never studied the construction of a
sentence, who were only learned in Bible lore, who
had been taught in the school of Christ, that were as
marrow to my soul; for it was a presentation of the
simple gospel from one who had experienced the re-
sults of its application.
After all, no one can please everybody. Some
require learning and polish, a classic finish, lofty,
stately, majestic; others, again, fancy piquancy, pa-
thos; others prefer solemnity, grandeur, splendor,
clear and commanding, or fire, fervor, passion, unc-
tion; while others again require the deep, profound,
massive, logical style.
I suppose in the old times those who had been in the
habit of hearing their divines preach two, three, and
four hours, would not be content with a sermon of
twenty or thirty minutes. Bishop Hall, with the
eighty heads to his discourse; Baxter, with his one
hundred and twenty; Mr. Lyle, with his thirty par-
ticulars for fixing his theme on a right basis, and
fifty-six more to illustrate it; and Mr. Drake, with
one hundred and seventy parts to a sermon, in which
he says he has passed over many very useful points,
pitching only on those which comprehended the mar-
ABSURD TITLES. 423
row and substance, were all popular preachers. And
yet in these days they would preach to empty pews,
and, as Dr. Beecher once said to a very sparse con-
gregation, the church would appear " like a burnt dis-
trict."
Many of those old divines were very quaint and
witty, their sermons a treasury of good things ; while
there were some whose quaintness and oddity led
them into absurdities. A list of the titles of books
and tracts circulated in the time of Cromwell we
should consider ridiculous. I give a brief selection:
" A Most Sweet, Delectable and Perfumed Nose-
gay for the Saints To Smell At."
" A Pair of Bellows to Blow off the Dirt cast on
James Fry."
" The Snuffers of Divine Love."
" Hooks and Eyes for Believers' Breeches."
" High-heeled Shoes for Dwarfs in Holiness."
" Crumbs of Comfort for the Chickens of the Cove-
nant."
" A Sigh of Sorrow for the Sinners of Zion, breathed
out of a hole in an earthen vessel, known among men
by the name of Samuel Fish."
With all this absurdity, the men who wrote these
discourses possessed power, but we have occasionally
the absurdity without the power. I would not ridi-
cule any attempt of any man to do good who was at
all qualified for his work; but those men who are
utterly unqualified to become teachers of the people,
and assume the responsibility of such a position, are
fair subjects for criticism.
I remember going to church on one occasion, ex-
pecting to hear a celebrated preacher. To our great
disappointment we were told that he was unable to be
424 ELOCUTION FOR BOYS.
present, but that a minister who was in the town on a
visit would preach. I shall never forget my sensa-
tions when this gentleman came into the pulpit. He
was very tall, his hair brushed straight up from his
forehead. He had a very long neck, rather red in
color; a pair of green spectacles with side glasses,
and a boil on his nose. As he rose to his almost in-
terminable length, we could hardly repress a smile.
The text was, "For it is appointed unto men once
to die." There was not a suggestion, nor a thought;
no intellectual stimulus, but a dreary platitude, with
no more connection of ideas than in the youth's essay
on " Elocution." The boy was told not to be diffuse,
but to lay down his proposition fairly, and come to
the point at once. He delivered himself of this splen-
did effort : " Elocution is a good thing for boys. Hence
the immortality of the soul ! " But this man was dif-
fuse, without any points, as if he had taken for the
basis of his remarks, " How doth the little busy bee
improve the shining hour," &c., and treated it thus :
" My friends, the subject under consideration is a
bee. Not only is it a bee, but we are informed it is a
busy bee. Not only is it a busy bee, but it is a little
busy bee. Not only is it a little busy bee, but, my
friends, it is a little busy bee that doth. Mark, it is a
bee, not a swarm of bees, of which the poet writes.
It is a busy bee, not a drone in the hive. It is a little
busy bee, not a great bumble-bee that knocks his head
against the window. Then the little busy bee doth.
What doth it? is an important question. First, it im-
proves. "What doth it improve itself or some other
person? It improves an hour. What hour? A shin-
ing hour. What shining hour? moonshine, or sun-
shine, or starshine, or all hours? It cannot be all, for
BORROWED SERMON. 425
we are informed it is a shining hour; singular, not
plural. We must step a little in advance to settle the
question. Ah, here it is ! i He gathers honey all the
day! ' Therefore it must be in the sunshine." And
so on, to the end of the verse. And then : " Hence
we perceive." I would as soon hear the boy's propo-
sition and conclusion.
I once asked a minister who was rather celebrated
for his poetry, how he could find time for so much
rhyme, and prepare two sermons each week for his
people. " Oh," he said, " my sermons don't trouble
me ; I just think of a text, and then I have my refer-
ences, you know."
Once, after hearing a sermon, I asked some friends
who were with me, to listen while I read them some
portions of a very interesting work. As I proceeded,
some one said, " We heard that this morning ; " and
we found the morning sermon was taken bodily from
the work I was reading.
I heard a sermon from the text in Proverbs, "I
went by the field of the slothful, and by the vineyard
of the man void of understanding; " and we had
twenty minutes of suppositions : " Solomon might
have been riding in his chariot; he might have been
going to Gilgal ; he might have been in the company
of his courtiers ; he might have been taking his exer-
cise; he might have been on horseback; " and so on,
to an interminable and unprofitable extent.
A gentleman told me of a minister who boasted
that he never studied, but was always led, who con-
stantly quoted : " It shall be given you in that day
what ye shall say." He never selected his text be-
forehand, but always took the first passage his eye
rested on after he opened the Bible. On one occa-
426 PESALTERY-TKEE.
sion, when he opened the Book, his eye rested on thi
text : " Awake psaltery and harp ! " And he pro-
nounced the p, and added a couple of syllables to it,
and read:
" Awake pesaltery-tree and harp."
He had never heard of such a thing before, and
hardly knew what to make of it; but there it was, and
he put a brave face on it, and said:
" Yes, my friends, it is a pesaltery-tree. This was
a tree that growed in the region where David lived.
It had branches and leaves and roots. I do not know
whether it bore no fruit, but it was a pesaltery-tree.
Now, the circumstances under which this 'ere text was
writ was just this 'ere: David was very fond of laying
in bed in the morning, which is a very bad practice,
my friends. And one day he told his man to call him
up at four o'clock in the morning, and he called him;
and he got up, and it was a -beautiful morning; and
he opened the winder, and there was a pesaltery-tree
a-growing outside ; and he got out of that winder, and
sat on one of the branches of that 'ere pesaltery-tree ;
and while he sat there, he told his man to bring him
his harp; and when he got it, he played, 'Awake
pesaltery-tree and harp ; ' and that's the origin of this
'ere text." Then came a discourse on the advantages
of getting up early in the morning.
I was introduced to a man who, when he preached
and had no ideas, would shout and roar, and use his
voice to the utmost extent of its power. Once he was
at a great loss for ideas, and he shouted out with vio-
lent gestures : " There were the patriarchs ; yes, the
patriarchs, my friends. They were the patriarchs.
Who were the patriarchs, I ask, who were they?
"Who were they these patriarchs ? Again I ask,
ORATIONS AND POETRY. 427
who were they? Why, my friends, Jacob was one
of them Jacob was. Jacob was a patriarch a
patriarch, and he had twelve sons ; and every one
of these 'ere sons was a boy, my friends ! "
These may be very ridiculous specimens, and per-
haps overdrawn. I did not originate them; I give
them as they were related to me.
I here insert two specimens of oratory, one the
grandiloquent, the other the effeminate.
I have a volume entitled, " Orations and Poetry on
Moral and Religious Subjects," printed and published
at Albany, with a portrait of the author, from which
I make some extracts.
Here is the exordium to the oration on intemper-
ance:
" Man, ever since his fall in the garden of Eden, has been inspired
with a spirit of deviation from righteousness, which often increases his
misery. His imaginations are only evil continually, laying structures
of wretchedness and woe; and hewing out vessels that can hold no
water. Such is his digression from the requirements of God, that he is
a stranger to virtue, and lies buried in the open field of his pollution.
But among all his wicked inventions, King Alcohol is the topmost
stone."
Of the drunkard, the author says:
" The strong man became palsied, and began to reel to and fro under
the influence of the scourging waves. Their frail barks were now toss-
ing on the tempestuous sea of life. At last their vessels sprung a
leak, and foundered in liquid flames.
"This is the rock on which thousands split, and their frail barks
plunge into the awful cataract of death. The losses by intemperance are
almost supernumerary, and past the description of man. . . . The ele-
ment in which he moves is poisoned by his noxious breath, and he spreads
malignant contagion wheresoever he leaves his meandering vestige."
Of the liquor-seller, the author says :
"Those dealers in alcohol will yet, for the love of gold, sell to their
brethren the baneful Upas-tree, and keep up the stool-pigeons of mortal
attraction, that they may destroy the unwary and feast on the purchase
of their blood."
428 GRANDILOQUENT PERORATION.
The drunkard's career is thus forcibly described:
" The drunkard's career is on the broad road to ruin. The stream in
which he first embarks may appear small and but little dangerous ; yet it
empties into a boundless ocean, and conveys her votaries to the wailings
of the second death! The intemperate are seldom reclaimed. Their
condition is almost hopeless ; for when they begin their voyage, they sel-
dom cease, until they launch into the dark profundity obscure, from
whence no traveller returns. Their consciences are seared with perfect
inveteracy ; they bid defiance to all men, although admonished with deep-
est commiseration and sensitive gratitude. They are governed by an
enemy that knows of no condescension ; who is fettering them stronger
to that hold, which shall prove a baseless fabric, sinking beneath her
builders, and leave them as fuel for that flame of wrath, which survives
the dissolution of worlds, and is perpetuated by the vengeance of an
angiy Deity."
The peroration contains the following sentences:
" Seed-time and harvest shall come and pass away. The hill and the
valley shall smile with the luxuries of man. The cargoes of emporium
shall float on the blue waves, and waft along the shores of the sublime
highlands. The bells of minarets and bastions shall chime the midnight
peal. The drunken revelries shall increase the history of death ; and the
baneful Upas-tree shall spread over all lands. The retreats of pollution,
where King Alcohol waves his banner, shall swell the dirge of woe. The
sound of the harp and viol shall chant the passions of youth ; and the
chandeliers of theatres, like terrestrial suns, shall deceive the unwary
traveller. The card and the throw of the dice, where souls are stamped
for eternity, shall tell man's future history. The army of inebriates shall
increase, ere they plunge the Jordan of death, to wait the resurrection
fires and the direful woes of the final judgment. In all these scenes of
pollution, man seems silent, as if at death he closed his eyes in eternal
sleep. But suddenly the voice of the archangel splits the sapphire vault
above, and comes trumping down the eternal avenue with a mighty clan-
gor, such as the world never knew."
I give the reported speech of a nobleman who was
requested to offer a toast at a dinner given for the
benefit of a free hospital. He rose with the yearly
report of the institution in his hand, and said:
" Gentlemen! Ahem ! I I I rise to say. That is I wish to propose
a toast. Gentlemen, I think that you'll all say ahem! I think, at
"LEND ME TOUR EAJRS." 429
least, that this toast is, as you'll say, the toast of the evening toast of
the evening. Gentlemen, I belong to a good many of these things, and I
say, gentlemen, that this hospital requires no patronage ; at least, you
don't want any recommendation. YouVe only got to be ill got to be
ill. Another thing, they are all locked up I mean, they are shut up
separate that is, they've all got separate beds."
Then putting up his eye-glass and looking at the
paper, he continued:
" Now, gentlemen, I find by the report which I hold in my hand, I
find, gentlemen, that from the year seventeen no, eighteen, no
ah, yes I'm right, eighteen hundred and fifty no, it's a three thirty-
six eighteen hundred and thirty-six no less than one hundred and
ninety- three millions no ah ! eh ! What ? oh yes ! "
Some one whispered to him.
" Thank you, thank you ! Yes ! one hundred and ninety-three thousand
two millions, no two hundred and ninety- three thousand two hun-
dred and thirty-one. Gentlemen, I beg to propose ' Success to the In-
stitution.' "
Some thirty years ago a speech was reported as de-
livered by an itinerating orator to a mob of rioters
assembled in front of a gentleman's mansion in War-
wickshire, England, where they had gathered for the
purpose of committing violence and doing damage,
in the days of mob outrage and riot. I give it as a
reported specimen, whether exaggerated or not I do
not know.
" Gents, partisans, and much-suffering hoperatives : I would say to
you what Julius Czesar said to the Romans after he had stabbed Mark
Antony in the cause of liberty, at the siege of Troy ' Lend me your
hears.' This same sacred cause of liberty has brought me 'ere. has
brought you 'ere, has brought your wives 'ere, has brought your little tins
'ere. Let us do or die, as Robert Bruce the king of England said
to Mary Queen of Scots, at the battle of Bannockburn. That battle was
fought for liberty; and, gents, we 'ave a battle to fight too, against
the 'eartless harristocracy. Gents, you are now on the right spot.
The foe you 'ate is before you, as Tom Moore says in his ' Pleasures
of 'ope.' Look at his proud castle frowning o'er ahem the deep
ahem that is I mean frowning o'er us all. Within its walls
is titled hinsolence, bloated vealth, and hoverbearing hextravagance.
430 THE BATTLES OF "GREASY ANTD POTTERS."
Gents, we must, we shall be 'eard. Our 'aughty tyrants shall bite the
dust. They conquered us at 'Astings, when the Black Prince invaded
Hcugland at the Revolution, and brought in Norman hinsolence; but,
gents, who 'ave been the hassertors of Hengland's freedom but men of
our class? Who was it forced King John and his runagate barons
to give us Magna Charta but honest Jack Cade? Who was it shot a
harrow at King Richard the curdy lion but Wat Tyler the black-
smith ? Who fought under King Hedward the battles of Greasy and
Potters but the cooks and scullions of Hengland? Who delivered our
children and wives from Crook-backed Richard, who smothered 'elpless
hinfancy in the Tower, but Mr. Henry Tudor, a gent from Wales not
much better than us? Who hindered the Pope from burning 'Enery the
Eighth and his six wives for bigamy, but Cardinal Volsey, a butcher?
Who was Holliver Cromwell but a brewer, and did not he cut off King
Charles's 'ead ven he had pulled him by the hears out of the royal hoak,
vere he vos a-hiding the Magna Charta from the people? Vos not
Bacon a lord, and didn't he pick a gent's pocket? Vos not Shakspeare
a poacher, and didn't he write sermons in stones? Vos not Burns an
Irish ploughman, and didn't he write the ' Loves of the Hangels ' ?
Gents, these are facts from the wollum of our country's 'istory. These
show the degeneracy of the harristocracy. They may stand on a 'aughty
helevation, and may cry in the words of ' Omer, the Greek poet, ' Hodi
profanum wulgus et hareco,' which means, 'The common sort may go and
be hanged ; ' but we will hanswer them with a line found by Mr. Layard
on the left paw of the winged lion, during h ; s recent exhalations among
the ruins of Nincom-something, in Abyssinia. This line is in the
Chinese language, and runs thus, ' Wox populi, wox Dei? It was written
by King Belshazzar the night his palace was burned by Alexander the
Great when he was drunk. These words signify, ' Down with the Peer-
age, and hup with the people ! ' Men of Warwick, I have done. Never
say die till the banners of Liberty, Confraternity, and Equality cheap
beef, bread for nothing, and beer for the asking, float over your 'appy
'omes and 'ouses. ' Wox populi, wox Dei ! ' The hat will now go round
for a collection."
CHAPTER XXX.
CHURCH SERVICES. IRREVERENCE, BUFFOONERY,
AND CANT.
Ridiculous Side of Negro Preaching Absurd Mistakes The Planta-
tion Preacher " Glad Tidings and Hallelujah " The Dirty Boy
Church Services Singing in Mr. Spurgeon's Tabernacle ; and in
Dr. Parker's Church The D. D.'s Stratagem The Scotchman's
Experience " Don't sing, Sir " Hymns of my Boyhood Muti-
lated Hymns Irreverence of Hymnology Revivalists' Buifoonery
The Name above every Name Christian Irreverence Pious
Cant More Puritanism needed The Christian Ideal and its Oppo-
site Possible Future Pulpit Notices.
SERMON or a lecture may contain
much that is absurd, and yet not be
altogether unprofitable. Some of the
negro preaching has a ridiculous side,
while there are few persons who might
not profit by the lessons taught. I
heard a plantation preacher some years
ago, who used the most extravagant ex-
pressions, and mispronounced and mis-
placed his words, forcibly reminding us of the negro,
who said, when some one threw a brick at him
while preaching, " Dat man what frowed dat brick is
guilty ob an act ob moral turpentine ; " or of another,
who said of a little girl who had fallen down stairs
and struck her head violently : "She getten on; de
431
432 "SIX CALIKER HOSSES."
doctor has had her japanned! " A preacher has been
reported in one of our religious papers as reading the
line,
" God moves in a mysterious way,"
as,
" God moves in a mischievous way ; "
and,
" Judge not the Lord by feeble saints,"
instead of " feeble sense." Not a very improper
alteration.
But to the plantation preacher. He began by say-
ing:
" Bredren, I shall take two texes, i Glad tidings/
and 'Hallelujah!' Soon he asked, "What is glad
tidings, bredren? I'll tell ye what glad tidings am.
Suppose dar was a king in a chariot, and six caliker
hosses, like wat dey hab in de sukkus, a-prancing and
a-tossing up dar heads, and de soldiers and ossifers
marching by the side ob de chariot, and dar's a little
boy standing on de corner ob de street as de perces-
sion goes by. Dish 'ere boy is ragged and dirty; his
har sticking frough de holes in his cap ; he ain't got
no shoes, nobody keers for dat boy ; he ain't got no
fader, no mudder, no aunty; and he's looking on to
see de king, and de caliker hosses, and de ossifers, and
de soldiers ; when de king he stops de chariot, and
says to one ob dem ossifers, ' Bring dat boy to me ! '
" < Dat boy 's all dirt.'
" ' Bring dat boy to me ! '
" ' But you'll ketch sumfin off dat boy.'
" Den de king got mad, and his face lifted up on
de top of his head like a coffee-pot lid, and he hollered
as loud as he could holler:
" ' Bring dat boy to me ! '
"TIME FOR DE SECOND TEX." 433
" Den de ossifer bring dat boy, and de king say :
" ' Take dat boy and git him measured for some
clothes, and get him a cap, and some shoes, and cut
his har and wash him, put him in de barf, and den
send him to de school like de white folks go.'
" Wall, all dis is done 'cording to de king, wat he
tell de ossifer; and when dat boy was clean, and his
har comb, and he got de eddification, den dat king
come by again, wid de caliker hosses, and de soldiers
and de ossifers, and he says, ' Where's dat boy? ' and
dey bring de boy, and nobody knowd him; but de
king he knowd him, and say:
" * My child, come up into de chariot. I 'dopt you;
you is my heir.'
"Now, wouldn't dat be glad tidings to dat boy? "
Then came the application: God's love to sinners,
cleaning them, teaching them, and making them heirs
of God, joint-heirs with Jesus Christ, by adoption.
And when he came to the climax, he said:
" Now, bredren, is de time for de second tex, ' Hal-
lelujah,' and ye may jess shout much as ye're a-mind
to."
With all the oddity of that discourse, I never heard
a plainer exhibition of gospel truth, one better adapted
to the comprehension of the hearers than this.
Discussing ministers leads naturally to church ser-
vices. I venture my opinion. I prefer congregational
singing to selected choirs, and especially to quartettes.
This may be but a matter of taste, and some persons
may say bad taste at that; but still to me there is
something grand in the union of a thousand voices in
a song of praise. At Mr. Spurgeon's Tabernacle, in
London, there is neither choir nor organ; but the
singing of six thousand persons is very impressive.
434 THE CHOIR DID WELL.
At Dr. Parker's church, in the same city, there is a
choir for occasional pieces, and to steady and lead the
singing of the people. I think this is all right; but
the people should be encouraged to sing as part of
divine worship, in which they may profitably and de-
lightfully partake. Dr. Chalmers, preaching in a
fashionable church, once complained because no one
in the congregation sung the praises of God except
those who were paid for it.
A celebrated Scotch doctor of divinity was invited
to preach where no singing was heard but by the
choir. He gave out to be sung the Hundredth
Psalm :
" All people that on earth do dwell,
Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice ;
Him serve with mirth, His praise forth tell,
Come ye before Him and rejoice."
To the doctor's surprise, nobody but the choir
opened their lips, and when they had concluded the
performance, he rose, and good-humoredly said : " The
choir have done very well; let the congregation and
me try it next." And so saying, he raised in fine style
the solemn tune of " Old Hundred." The result was
that before the first stanza was ended, the whole con-
gregation had caught the enthusiasm of their leader,
and sent up a very shout of praise to heaven in the
appropriate words of the psalm; and they found it to
be so heart-stirring an experience, when compared
with their previous habits of being mere listeners, that
they never afterwards abstained so generally from
joining in the psalmody.
A Scotch gentleman, on a visit to England, thus
gives his experience : " I was taken on Sunday by an
English friend to one of the national churches. The
AN UNPLEASANT SNUB. 435
first sounds that saluted my ears were the solemn
peals and ' grave, sweet melody ' of the organ. It is
probable that at no distant period this instrument will
be introduced into some of the Presbyterian churches
in Scotland, where there is a growing taste for good
music set in. The opposition to it surely cannot rest
on scriptural grounds, so long as the Psalms of David
form a part of the sacred volume. The singing in
this place of worship was also very beautiful; and as
I knew something of the tune that was first sung, I
began to accompany the band, or choir, but had no
sooner made my voice audible which is not consid-
ered disagreeable in my own country than the man
who sat next me gave me a hard punch in the side
with his elbow, accompanied by the command, * Don't
sing, sir; 7 and at the same time I was frowned upon
by the portly, gowned seat-keeper, who happened to
pass at the time, which I had no reason to doubt con-
veyed to me the same unreasonable rebuke. I thus
understood that my business here was to be a listener,
as in a theatre ; and before the assembly was dismissed,
a female, who I was informed is a performer in the
opera-house, stood up alone, and sang a song to the
admiring crowd."
When I was a boy, I learned a large number of
hymns, so many that I could repeat them for hours.
I suppose I had committed to memory three hundred
hymns. They became to me old friends. When
alone, I occasionally repeat them. They have often
been my companions in the night-time, and I grieve
to meet one of these hymns of my boyhood mutilated,
as I would to see an old friend scarred and deformed.
To show how shamefully some of the precious hymns
have been mutilated, and their beauty and almost
27
436 TINKERED HYMNS.
their sense have been destroyed, I give specimens from
three of my favorites.
" Look how we grovel here below,
Fond of these earthly toys ;
Our souls how heavily they go
To reach eternal joys,"
has been mutilated thus :
" Our souls can neither fly nor go
To reach eternal joys."
The person who changed that must have been grovel-
ling here below.
Another specimen is in that fine old hymn
"My God! the spring of all my joys."
The second verse, as I learned it, and as my mother
sang it, was:
" In darkest shades, if Thou appear,
My dawning is begun ;
Thou art my soul's bright morning star,
And Thou my rising sun."
Some irreverent meddler has changed this to
" In darkest shades, if He appear,
My dawning is begun ;
He is my soul's sweet morning star,
And He my rising sun."
Who ever heard of a sweet star, any more than of a
sweet cataract, or the sweet sun ! To me it is lacka-
daisical.
That beautiful hymn
" Jesus, and shall it ever be,
A mortal man ashamed of Thee ;
Ashamed of Thee, whom angels praise,
Whose glory shines through endless days "
is outrageously mutilated; the grandeur and beauty
DOGGEREL RHYMES. 437
utterly destroyed in the first verse. Think of this
and weep.
" Jesus, and shall it ever be,
A mortal man ashamed of Thee?
Scorned be the thought by rich and poor,
Oh, may I scorn it more and more ! "
Here I fail in utterance when I would express my
contempt for such a change. I cannot do justice to
the subject. Why will not these hymn-tinkers prac-
tise on something less sacred and precious than the
old-time noble hymns?
Another objection to a certain style of hymnology
is its irreverence, the sacred name of Jesus so flip-
pantly used, with absurd repetition of that name, to
meet the requirements of some jingling rhyme.
" I am so glad that Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me ;
I am so glad that Jesus love me, loves me,"
is a specimen. I express my own opinion, contrary
perhaps to the opinion of others. But I believe the
singing of such doggerel, in which the Saviour's name
is introduced in useless repetition, tends to foster an
irreverence which is unbecoming. Then the pointless
repetition,
" Come to Jesus, come to Jesus, come to Jesus
Just now. Just now come to Jesus ;
Come to Jesus just now."
I heard from good authority that a certain revival-
ist, at the commencement of a series of meetings,
proposed that while some of the brethren retired for
some consultation, he would interest the people by
singing, and he commenced singing this doggerel.
The conference was longer than he expected; and,
growing weary of the singing, he called out to the
friends in the vestry :
438 NAME HIGH OVER ALL.
"Hurry up, hurry up, brethren; I can't keep the
people coming to Jesus all night ! "
I protest against such irreverence.
Who is this of whom he speaks so flippantly?
Read the description of Him:
" His eyes were as a flame of fire, and on His head
were many crowns, and He had a name written that
no man knew but He Himself, and He was clothed
with a vesture dipped in blood, and His name is called
the Word of God." Again : " He hath on His vesture
and on His thigh a name written, * King of kings, and
Lord of lords.' ' " His name shall be called Wonderful,
Counsellor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father,
the Prince of Peace ; " and He is " the mystery of
Godliness, God manifest in the flesh." " At the name
of Jesus every knee shall bow, and every tongue con-
fess Him to be Lord, to the glory of God the
Father."
And this is He whose name is introduced into dog-
gerel, and sung to a jingling tune. I prefer Wesley's
hymn:
" Jesus, the name high over all,
In hell, or earth, or sky;
Angels and men before it fall,
And devils fear and fly."
I have been told that we should recognize the hu-
manity of Christ, that He is our elder brother. Most
fully do I accept Him in His humanity as my sympa-
thizing Saviour and friend, who was tempted as I am.
He was all this to His disciples, who lived and walked
with Him ; but they called Him " Rabbi," " Master,"
" Lord." At the last feast He said to His disciples :
" Ye call me Master and Lord, and ye say well, for so
I am; " and this when He had just washed their feet.
RELIGIOUS FLIPPANCY. 439
The disciple whom Jesus loved, while lying on His
breast on that memorable occasion, in all the intimacy
of personal friendship, called Him " Lord." I cannot
but consider the flippant manner in which some use
His sacred name to be irreverent.
Then there is a religious phraseology that amounts
to cant. When I receive a letter saluting me as " My
fellow-sinner," I always expect four pages of cant,
introducing " The Lord " as if the writer was famil-
iarly acquainted with Him. I could give you many
specimens of this religious gush, but I forbear. A
gentleman who " dear-brothered " me, and talked
about the Lord in a whining tone till I was weary,
told me he had not committed sin for six months. I
told him I did not believe it, .when he became quite
angry, and I thought came very near sinning in his
expressions of wrath.
While I am not inclined particularly to what is
called Puritanism, I have an idea that if we had a
little more of the spirit and practice of Puritan times,
the churches would be stronger and more successful in'
their warfare on sin. We can hardly attack that with
which we fraternize. I wish neither to be critical, nor
to set up my judgment in reference to the laxity of
church discipline, but I fear we are spending more
time in discussing w T hat we may or may not do, than
in considering what we ought to do; how far we may
conform to the customs and amusements of the world
without violating our covenant vows, or how much
we may compromise with the world and hold our
position in the church.
Jesus Christ said to his disciples, " I have chosen
you out of the world." We seem to be ignoring that;
and I ask, what amusement or pursuit is there fol-
440 SUPPOSED PULPIT NOTICE.
lowed by the unbeliever, that is not followed or de-
fended by some Christians? Cards, dancing, theatres,
operas, wine and liquor drinking, gambling, all these
are patronized and defended by some who are mem-
bers of Christ's body the Church. I have witnessed
the solemn service of admitting new members into
the church, and heard those received assent to the
doctrines and covenant, in which act they promised to
follow the Lord Christ; and I have sometimes imag-
ined them at the theatre, at the card-table, or in the
ball-room, notwithstanding their solemn vows in this
impressive service, and the idea seemed so inconsist-
ent as to become revolting.
Perhaps we are becoming more liberal and less
scriptural ; but I own it would be a strange thing to
hear from among the pulpit notices one read like the
following :
" There will be a prayer-meeting next Wednesday
evening, at half-past seven, to last an hour, after which
there will be a social dance in the church parlors.
" The Whist Club will meet at Brother White's.
Wine, spirits, and cigars will be furnished. Only
whist, euchre, and seven-up will be permitted: for we
must draw a line somewhere.
" On Saturday afternoon, the Dramatic Society Of
the Sunday school will rehearse, previous to giving a
public exhibition. The play will be the l School for
Scandal? revised by the superintendent.
" We propose omitting our usual Thursday lecture,
as the opera company from ~New York will give a
grand performance, and the members of our choir are
engaged for the chorus at the theatre on that evening.
" Our usual monthly lottery for the Sabbath-school
library will be drawn at eight o'clock on Tuesday
evening. All are invited to attend.
CURIOUS PROGRAMME. 441
" A fair will be held on the 15th inst., in our church
parlors, to raise funds for a new billiard-table in the
gymnasium of the church. There will be several at-
tractions : raffling for some very elegant articles ; also
the grab-bag particularly provided for the children.
"We hope to see a large attendance. We will now re-
sume our service by singing,
' Far from my thoughts, vain world, begone.' "
This may be an awful exaggeration of what might
be. Very well ; let it be so. I give a verbatim bill
of the performances for the organ fund of a Congre-
gational church in England. It is prefaced by a let-
ter to the editor of the Fountain, from which I copy
it. The letter is as follows :
" SIR : I send you a copy of a programme of an entertainment for the
organ fund of a Congregational church, in the north of England.
" I do not know how you may look upon it ; but I, in common with
several friends, regard it as a very questionable way of raising money
for the support of a Christian church.
" The distinction that ought to exist betwixt the church and the
world is entirely ignored, and for the time being the maxims and policy
of the world reign supreme.
" The true church possesses the only remedy for the woes and sorrows
of sin-stricken humanity; but this remedy will not be found in enter-
tainments more suitable for a low music saloon than for a Christian
church.
" Hoping you will use your pen in reproving the evil, and show church-
members and ministers their true work and mission in the world, I am,
yours respectfully, ."
" CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH.
" The public are respectfully informed that there will be held in the
Town Hall, a Sale of Work, Wax Work, Entertainment, Promenade Con-
cert, High Art Exhibition, and ' Trial by Jury.' Admission : To Sale of
Work, 6d- to Wax Work, 6d."
" GRAND WAX- WORK EXHIBITION.
" Under the distinguished patronage of General Holiday, General
Laughter, General Uproar, and the General Public, will be exhibited
the most marvellous collection of Living Wax Works in the world never
442 JOKES EXPLAINED.
shown out of London, in the preparing of which every expense has been
spared.
" The whole figures are too innumerable to mention, but the following
wind and weather permitting will be some of the first to .arrive :
"The Prince and Princess of Wales (in native costume), from a photo
by Blackhead, taken in Mary Land.
"Mary, Queen of Cullercoats, singing ' Buy my Caller Herring.'
"Professor Edison, the inventor of the electric light, discoverer of the
Edison Lighthouse, and other edifying animals ; with brilliant examples
of the light.
" The pale-faced author of Cockle's pills.
" Mrs. Allan (the anti-fat one), not the hair-restorer.
" Signer Frioline (English, ' Bill Fry '), or man-fish, recently sold at
Tynemouth Aquarium: together with the kitchen-utensils and season-
ticket holders, kindly lent by a defunct director for this night only.
" Girl of the period.
" Geordie, in full evening dress.
" Guy Fawkes (not of gunpowder renown).
"A jubilee singer (composer of 'My Grandfather's Clock').
" John Pitch, alias Jack Tar, doing a real iron-clad break-down horn-
pipe, with tobacco accompaniment.
" Widows of the late Brigham Young.
"The Japanese juggler, or jumping Jesuit of the jointless jungle.
" Doctor Spruce, author of ' Notions of the Motions of the Oceans,'
'Durham Gas Pipes,' &c., &c.
" Little Zulus, in birthday suits.
" Dick Whittington and his cat, with a catalogue of their catastrophes,
and an account of the mice she catched. Lewis Paine, the spiritualistic
murderer, and the painful results arising therefrom.
" A father's blessing, one penny. A mother's warning, tuppence.
" Notice. This marvellous exhibition, bear in mind, will not parade
the town each day at one o'clock, headed by a cracked brass band, but
will discourse sweet music from a really playful organ-man during the
entertainment.
"Telescopes, opera-glasses, weather-glasses, wine-glasses, and spec-
tacle-cases on hire, by application at the door.
"Admission. Tickets to be obtained at post office, police office,
register office, telegraph office, or by payment at the door, especially the
latter. Reserved seats (which persons are requested to bring with them),
1*. Second seats, Gd. Gallery free. Cabs (Brown's, or any other man's),
wheelbarrows, perambulators, milk carts, to be ordered at 11.60 p. M.
"Trains. The local trains will be run as usual, and the railway
station ought to be thoroughly cleaned for the occasion. Jokes not seen
during the entertainment will be explained at 6 A. M. next evening.
" The highly instructive explanations of the figures will be given by
Professor Talkey, of Torkee (Torquay)."
CHAPTER XXXI.
MY VIEWS ON THE TEMPERANCE QUESTION.
Drunkenness a Sin and a Disease Is moderate Drinking a Sin? My
First Intoxication Rum and Water in a Temperance Meeting
"Gentlemanly Inebriation" The Intoxicated Boy Pathology of
Drunkenness Testimony of Dr. Richardson Destructive Effects
of Alcohol on the Mind Statement of Joseph Cook Legend of
the Triple Choice The Sin is in the Cause, and not the Effect
Statements of Win. Arnot, D.D. Two Ways of keeping a Nation
sober Total-Abstinence as an Unfailing Remedy Prevention
better than Cure The Giant's Hand Drunkenness unnatural
Testimony of Distinguished Physicians Case of the Hon. E. C. Han-
negan His former Useful Life The Terrible Fall and Dissipation
The Murder.
[WING to some misapprehensions as to
my position in the temperance work,
it becomes my duty to record some-
what fully my opinions and define my
position in reference to the temperance
question. I may diifer widely from
some with whom I am glad to work;
but my views are my own. Certain
conclusions, after thirty-seven years' ex-
perience, have been forced upon me. I shall not be
dogmatical, or profess infallibility ; but I shall express
my views, opinions, and sentiments so that there can
be no doubt where I stand.
I consider drunkenness a sin, but I consider it also
a disease. It is a physical as well as a moral evil.
M3
444 OVERCOME BY DRINKING.
Sin is defined by Webster as " Transgression of the
law of God; disobedience to the Divine command;
any violation of God's will, either in purpose or con-
duct; moral deficiency in the character; iniquity."
Webster defines drunkenness as " The state of being
drunken, or overpowered by alcoholic liquor; intoxi-
cation; inebriety." Taking these definitions as cor-
rect, I ask, When is drunkenness a sin? I speak of
an actual sin, which is " the act of a moral agent in
violating a known rule of duty, and to depart volun-
tarily from the path of duty prescribed by God to
men ; to violate the divine law, in any particular, by
actual transgression."
We will suppose a case. You are a Christian mod-
erate drinker. You scout the idea of moderate drinking
being a sin. To take one, two, or three glasses of wine
a sin ? No, certainly not ! You sustain your practice
by holy Scripture; and I will agree, if you wish, that
you do it conscientiously, and that you can ask God's
blessing on the wine. You have it daily on the table.
The minister of the church to which you belong coun-
tenances its use. You have a son who has never
tasted wine during his childhood. He is now fourteen
or fifteen years of age, and you give him the wine.
He becomes drunk, viz., " overcome by drinking, in-
toxicated, inebriated." Does he commit sin? " Cer-
tainly not," you say; "he did not know what its eifect
would be, nor did I ! " Very well ; then it is a physi-
cal inability to drink without inebriety. The first
time I was intoxicated I drank with others; I had no
more idea of doing wrong in that act of drinking than
in eating bread. I did as others did. It went to my
head. I was inebriated.
In the early days of my work, I was holding a
A COWAKDLY TEICK. 445
series of meetings in a village in "New England. It
was my custom then to speak for an hour or more,
then sing temperance songs, and invite signers to the
pledge. I used often to become excited. One even-
ing I was very warm in the crowded room, and became
thirsty. There was neither glass nor pitcher in the
desk, and I asked, " Would some one be kind enough
to procure some water? " After waiting some min-
utes, a full pitcher was handed me. There being no
glass, I hastily lifted the pitcher to my lips, and de-
tected the odor of alcohol, and found it was a mixture
of rum and water, and not very weak. Suppose in
my excitement I had failed to detect the smell of the
spirit, and not dreaming of such a cowardly trick, had
drank the mixture and become inebriated ? There
would be no sin in the drinking ; but if I had detected
and wilfully drank it, knowing the results, the act of
drinking would have been a sinful one.
You say, "A man who cannot drink moderately
should let it alone." Granted ; but how will he know
that he cannot drink without inebriety, unless he ex-
periments; and in the experiment, if he becomes
intoxicated, does he commit sin? "No," you say.
" But to get drunk is a sin." Now, I believe that
when a man knows that the use of intoxicating
liquors, or any other thing, is detrimental to his
health, injurious to him in body or mind, hinders him
in his useful labor, or is hurtful to him in any other
way, and will, solely for his sensuous gratification,
use it, then he commits sin.
The difficulty may be, that your son, if he is of the
nervous, susceptible temperament, may be so fasci-
nated by the exhilaration and temporary exaltation,
that when the remembrance of the pain and reaction
446 THE FIRST INTOXICATION.
has faded, the recollection of the enjoyment becomes
more vivid, and he determines with caution to obtain
again the pleasure, without making a " fool of himself
by getting drunk." So he tries it again, and for the
fleeting enjoyment he runs an awful risk, the risk
being in proportion to the fascination of what is often
termed " gentlemanly inebriation ; " for every time he
indulges, he loses power to resist, and therefore be-
comes ensnared.
A gentleman at my house told me that when he was
ten years old, a young lady, out of fun, gave him
some diluted whiskey, and enticed him to drink it.
He drank, and became intoxicated. Said he : " I shall
never forget coming out of that stupid sleep; I felt
awfully. That is fifty-two years ago, and nothing
could tempt me to touch a drop in all these years."
A very wise decision. Did that boy commit sin?
A dyspeptic who knows that a certain article of
food is injurious, and who will for the sake of grati-
fying the desire for that article of food, partake of it,
commits sin. The sin is not in the dyspepsia, but
in the wilful aggravation of the disease by self-indul-
gence.
Perhaps this is what is termed splitting hairs, but
our opponents are constantly endeavoring to puzzle
us by hair-splitting. Rheumatism is not a sin, but if
I wilfully expose myself for my own gratification,
when the suffering comes I must or ought to bear it
patiently, as a penalty for violated law.
Do you compare drunkenness with dyspepsia or
rheumatism? I make no comparisons. If you mean
the simple act of drunkenness in endeavoring to as-
certain whether you can drink with impunity, or the
wilful perpetuation of dyspepsia or rheumatism by
WILSON'S PATHOLOGY. 447
self-gratification, I should say that the least sin was-
in the simple act of inebriety; but if you ask whether
habitual drunkenness is to be compared with these
other evils, I say, a thousand times, that habitual
drinking, with the knowledge that drunkenness will
ensue, is a tenfold greater sin than any habit or act
that brings on these other diseases. I say that the
voluntary drinking is the sin, drunkenness is the
result of the act; the cause of it is the drinking.
Let no one suppose for a moment that I would pal-
liate the evil of drunkenness occasional or habitual;
but while we condemn the effect, let us condemn also
the cause. The whole civilized world is groaning
under the awful results of intemperance in the use of
intoxicating liquors; a large proportion of the crime,
lunacy, suicides, pauperism, being caused by it. Look
at its effects on the victim! "Wilson's Pathology of
Drunkenness " is a most vivid and fearful revelation
of the progress from conviviality to casual and habit-
ual intoxication, and the constitutional and mental
results. He tells us that disturbance of the circula-
tion, disorder of the functions of digestion, disease
of the liver, of the kidneys, of the lungs, tubercular
degeneration, mania a potu, hiccough, an acute prog-
ress of decay, brain-disease, and apoplexy, are some
of the constitutional results ; and " loss or confusion
of memory, mental aberration, delirium, lunacy, and
suicide are some of the mental results. The springs
of life are tainted at their source, and their currents
diffusing themselves everywhere through the system,
the one as the basis of vitality, the other as the origin
of its leading phenomena, leave the traces of their
altered qualities everywhere apparent."
Dr. Richardson says:
448 AN OLD LEGEND.
"If I were to take you through all the passions that remain to he
named, love and lust, hate and envy, avarice and pride, I should but
show you that alcohol ministers to them all ; that, paralyzing the reason,
it takes from all these passions that fine adjustment of reason which not
only places man above the lower animals, but, when celestially attuned,
places him little lower than the angels.
" The demonstrative evidence of alcohol in its influence on the mind
is then most clear.
" From the beginning to the end of its influence it subdues reason and
sets free passion. The analogies, physical and mental, are perfect. That
which loosens the tension of the vessels which feed the body with due
order of precision, and thereby lets loose the heart to violent excess of
unbridled motion, loosens also the reason, and lets loose the passions. In
both instances heart and head are for a time out of harmony, their bal-
ance broken. The man descends closer and closer to the lower animals.
From the angels he glides further and farther away.
" The destructive effects of alcohol on the human mind present, finally,
the saddest picture of its influence. The most {esthetic artist can find no
angel here. All is animal, and animal of the worst type. Memory irre-
trievably lost, words and very elements of speech forgotten, or words
displaced to have no meaning in them. Rage and anger, persistent and
mischievous, or remittent and impotent. Fear at every corner of life,
distrust on every side, grief merged into blank despair, hopelessness into
permanent melancholy. Surely no Pandemonium that ever poet dreamt
of could equal that which would exist if all the drunkards of the world
were driven into one mortal sphere."
Joseph Cook says :
" Harden the brain by drenching it with alcohol, and you harden the
moral motive; and, whatever disorganizes brain disorganizes character."
Every one of the thousands of victims who are, we
fear, descending to the drunkard's grave, began with
the first glass, and the whole evil is caused by drink-
ing intoxicating liquor. It is an awful sin above all
others. It is the promoter of all that is evil, of all
that is vile and abominable. It solidifies and crystal-
lizes, and makes chronic, every evil passion of de-
praved human nature.
I have read somewhere an old legend, in which a
man was offered his choice of three voluntary acts: to
murder his father, burn down his house, or get drunk.
DKUKKEN^ESS A PENALTY. 449
Laughingly he chose the latter, as that could not be
very harmful. He got drunk. While in that state
he became furious. Enraged at his father's attempt
to control him, he struck him a blow with a hammer
that lay near, and killed him ; then, filled with horror
at the deed, he set fire to the house, thus to destroy
the body and hide his crime.
Drunkenness is a sin unlike others, in that it carries
its penalty with it in the suffering and enslavement
of its victim. It is but the penalty for violated law;
the sin is not in the penalty, but in the violation of
law. Now, is there no wrong in drinking, unless it
produces what we call drunkenness or intoxication?
If you mean by drunkenness a persistent use of alco-
holic beverages, knowing all the consequences, then
it is always and ever sin against the body, the mind,
the soul, and society, and a grievous sin against God.
But is there no sin in the intoxication that consists in
mere exhilaration, elevation, or excitement; or even
the slight confusion of thought, without staggering or
stammering? If the brain is disturbed in its action
and the power of the will weakened, or if the self-
control is affected, the perception stimulated while its
accuracy is destroyed; if the judgment is perverted,
if the drinker will go where he would not go without
it, say what he would not say without it, think as he
would not think, and do as he would not do with-
out it; though his utterance may not be thick, his
eye may be clear, his gait steady, and no outward
appearance giving evidence, is he not in some de-
gree tipsy, inebriated, drunk?
Can a man steal a little, lie a little, swear a little,
and be innocent? Are there any degrees by which
you may measure the enormity or the veniality of
450 ABSTINENCE PROHIBITION.
these practices? Is it a trifling thing to be tipsy,
and a serious thing to get drunk? Where does the
sin commence? I confess I am puzzled to get any
reply to these questions. But what does it all amount
to? Just this: I desire to fasten the sin where it be-
longs on the cause, not the effect.
As I have stated on another page, the Rev. "Wm.
Arnot, at my request, gave me his opinions on the
liquor traffic, and I quote again from his manuscript:
"There are two possible ways of making and keeping a nation sober.
The result might be attained by the people voluntarily abjuring the use
of intoxicating liquor, or by the legislature authoritatively prohibiting
its manufacture and sale. The one is the principle of abstinence socie-
ties ; the other is the principle of what is called the Maine Law. Under
the one method, if fully carried out, there would be no drinkers ; and
under the other, there would be no drink. Either operation, if complete,
would effect a cure. If one instrument were thoroughly driven home,
both would not be required.
" If a choice were offered, we would prefer the former. We would
rather see the blot of drunkenness wiped off by the spontaneous self-
denial of the people than by an application of the ruler's power. This
would indicate a better moral condition of the community, and the ex-
ertion would react to increase the moral power that produced it. But
in the present ruined and imperfect state of human affairs, it would be
foolish to refuse a portion of the coarser material, when the supply of
the finer article falls short. We are glad, on all accounts, to take in the
first instance as much of voluntary abstinence as we can get; but after
all that this best method has yet done, or is likely to do, the Demon Vice
possesses still a great multitude of the people, and deprives them of
their right mind. For these circumstances, when we cannot get him
cast out by the power of a people's virtuous will, we own we should be
heartily glad to see him driven out by the strong arm of the law.
" We have no desire to see a prohibitory law suddenly enacted before
the people are prepared to support it. We do not desire to go before
public opinion ; but we do desire to urge public opinion forward. People
need not be afraid of a prohibitory law being enacted over the heads of
a remonstrant community. Such a law will not be passed by the legis-
lature, until the majority of the community desire it, and a good while
after that. But whatever may be the prospect of an entirely prohibitory
law being desired by the people of this country and enacted by Parlia-
ment, there are various degrees of partial limitation possible and desir-
able in the meantime. It is the part of practical wisdom to look to
these. A greater number of persons may be induced to unite in obtain-
PREVENTION BETTER THAN CURE. 451
ing them, and they will diminish the evil which they cannot eradicate.
There may be limitations in the kinds of drink, in the number of sellers,
in the duties imposed, in the price of license, in the terms of conducting
the traffic. It is the duty of all good citizens, if they cannot knock the
wild beast on the head, to join in the effort to give him a short and
aye a shorter tether.
" A great boon in this direction has been obtained for Scotland in the
recently enacted law for the regulation of public-houses. The measure
deserves not absolute, but comparative praise. The thankfulness
with which we receive it is caused less by its own inherent qualities
than by the enormities which it supersedes. It is the exceeding badness
of the former state of things that makes the present appear so good.
Our rejoicing under the Public-House Act is like the rejoicing wherewith
the inhabitants of a Turkish province learn the appointment of a new
pasha who will only strip them of their treasures, and the dismissal of
the old one who skinned them alive. A very execrable tyrant was that
pasha who sat astride of the Scottish people to regulate the spirit
traffic, previous to the loth of May last.* Practically there seemed to be
no limit to the number of public houses. Every man got a license who
wanted it, every proprietor who thought his shop would let better for the
sale of whiskey than for doing other business, contrived to get a friendly
justice to attend to his interests on licensing-day. At every corner the
spiders spread their webs, and the community had no voice and no re-
dress, any more than if they had been so many blue-bottles."
I quote these words as the expression of my own
opinion in reference to the remedy for the terrible
evil of drunkenness. I shall first propound my views
on total abstinence as a certain, effectual cure. It
never fails; it cannot fail. It stops the supplies, and
the evil must cease; it dries up the spring, and there
can be no stream.
Prevention is better than cure. It is worth a life-
effort to save a drunkard, to lift a man from degrada-
tion. It is worth some self-sacrifice to free a man
from moral slavery and debasement; but to prevent
his fall is far better. We may reform a man from
drunkenness, but I believe no man can ever fully
recover from the effects of years of dissipation and
intemperance. You put your hand in that of a giant,
* This refers to the Sunday-closing Act of Scotland.
28
452 NEVER USE IT, NEVER WANT IT.
and he crushes it. You shriek in your agony, and
after long struggling, with a desperate effort you
extricate your hand from that fearful grip ; it is torn,
crushed, mangled, and bleeding. That hand may at
last be healed; but it will be mutilated as long as you
live. It may become a useful hand, but its beauty
and symmetry is gone forever. So a man may be
cured of drunkenness ; but the marks are on him, and
will be to the day of his death. You cannot take the
stain from snow, nor restore the bloom when once
rubbed from the fruit; no more can you remove from
the man the marks and stains produced by long-
continued habits of self-indulgence and intemperance;
but we can save the children.
No child was ever born with a natural appetite for
intoxicating drink, any more than with an appetite
for tobacco ; except, perhaps, in those cases where the
sins of the fathers are visited on the children, and
the child or grandchild of the drunkard seems to
possess a natural appetite for drink. I shall allude to
this more fully on a future page. If he ever wants
it, it is because he has used it. The use of it pro-
duces the desire for it. We have hundreds of life-
time abstainers who have never tasted it, and they
have never wanted it.
I believe that no reputable physician of common
sense will admit that alcoholic stimulants are neces-
sary in health, but, on the contrary, will declare
them to be positively injurious. Dr. Richardson, Sir
Henry Thompson, Sir Wm. Gull, Dr. Edmunds, Dr.
Norman Ker, and scores of the best physicians in
Great Britain, and many in our own country, have
publicly testified by their words and their writings
that alcoholic drinks are never necessary in health;
A VERT SAD CASE. 453
so that total abstinence is the safe, sure, and absolute
preventive for every child who adopts it. So my
theory is, "Prevention is better than cure." This act
of abstinence is perfectly easy for the child who has
never tasted, comparatively easy for the moderate
drinker, and positively hard for the excessive drinker.
There are many men who cannot drink intoxicating
liquor in moderation; if they drink at all, they be-
come crazed by the first glass, and rush into excess.
I give one case. The facts as to the killing of his
brother-in-law by the Hon. E. C. Hannegan were
widely known at the time, many years since. Mr.
Hannegan had been a member of the legislature,
both houses of Congress, ambassador to Prussia.
John Wentworth, of Chicago, who served with him
in Congress, thus commented on his case in the
" Chicago Democrat " :
" Every man who has seen Mr. Hannegan when under the influence
of liquor, as we have, can believe the above (viz., the statement of the
homicide) ; and every one who has seen him and lived at the same house
with him and his family, as we have, when he was a total-abstinence
man for months together, will indeed pity him.
" When sober, he is as pure, as upright, as kind, and as generous a
man as there is in this country. With him there can be no middle state.
He is a brute when drunk; when sober, he will compare in all the
elements of goodness with any man living. But he cannot drink without
getting drunk. Mr. Hannegan entered the Lower House of Congress
many years ago, a perfectly temperate man, and in point of talents,
integrity, and popularity, his prospects were as flattering as those of any
young man in the United States ; but Washington habits and fashions
were too much for him.
" Dissipation drove him to private life. He reformed, became a tem-
perance lecturer and an exemplary member of the church. His exhorta-
tions in times of great revivals are said to have equalled those of the
most eloquent divines living. At length his old habits were forgotten,
and he was sent to the Senate. He took his seat an exemplary ' Son of
Temperance ' and a Christian ; but again the temptations were too great
for him. His struggles with himself were gigantic, and the assistance
of one of Nature's noblest of women, his wife, secured for him the sym-
454 AN AWFFL COMMENT.
pathy of everybody. But he would have his sprees, and he lost his
reelection. Like most politicians, he left office miserably poor. At the
close of his term and of Mr. Polk's administration, to keep so popular
and so good a man from despair and ruin, the senators unanimously
Whigs and Democrats signed a call for Mr. Polk to send him to
Prussia, and he was appointed to that mission. His unfortunate career
there is well known. Since his return we have heard nothing of him
until this melancholy affair.
" We have seen many a young man enter Congress perfectly tem-
perate, and leave it totally ruined ; but we never knew one who had so
many efforts to save him, so ineffectually, as Mr. Hannegan. We now
have in our mind three, in our own term, who killed themselves. Mr.
Hannegan has tried to do so several times ; but he lived to kill his wife's
brother, the best friend, save his wife, he had in the world. That he
wishes he was in poor Duncan's place, we have no doubt. What an
awful comment, this, upon the evils of intemperance ! It was the first
drop that ruined Hannegan. He is now about the middle age of man,
and may yet live to be a very useful man ; but there is greater proba-
bility that he will commit suicide."
CHAPTEK XXXn.
*
TEMPERANCE AND " THE GRACE OF GOD." MY OWN
EXPERIENCE AND THAT OF OTHERS.
Is Reform possible without Religion? Grounds of Appeal Total
Abstinence does not renew Nature My First Pledge without "the
Help of God" The Memory of the Garret Bedroom My Second
Pledge under the Grace of God Does the Grace of God take away
the Appetite? Poison kills the Christian and the Hottentot The
Grace of God includes Voluntary Total Abstinence Is the Drunk-
ard's Appetite left? My Disgust at the Drink no Proof that Appe-
tite is gone Communion Wine ; its Effect Wines in Cooking
Religion removes the Desire, but not the Appetite Self-Deception
on this Point Thrilling Letter of a Clergyman The Converted
Rum-Seller's Experience The Fallen Minister The only Safety is
in Total Abstinence " The Pledge and the Cross."
AN" a man, who is a drunkard, abstain
without the special grace of God, or,
in other words, without being a Chris-
tian? Can he break his chains, when he
has been fettered for years, by the power
of his own will? In answer to this, I
will say, that I would never admit to a
man that he could not stop drinking unless
he became a Christian ; that is, as we under-
stand it, received the new birth became converted,
according to the scriptural interpretation of that
term.
He may be a skeptic, an unbeliever, a man who
455
456 ABSTINENCE REASONABLE.
rejects the gospel, who has no faith in prayer. Can I
tell him that he must continue a drunkard unless he
becomes a believer? Love of the drink may be, as it
often is, the hindrance to his belief. If my appeal
to him to give up the drink on the ground of its
being a sin against God, produces no effect, may I
not urge the personal advantage in the restoration to
society? May I not plead with him to give it up for
his own prosperity, comfort, and respectability, and
tell him he can abstain if he will? Suppose he will
give up no other sin, that he will profane the Sab-
bath, take the name of God in vain, just as he is
doing now, is it not right and expedient for him to
give up that one sin, even if he purposes to give up
no other? While I believe that drunkenness hinders
more men from coming to Christ, from hearing and
accepting the gospel, than any other agency, am I
not doing a good work as far as it goes?
Total abstinence from drink, or abstinence from
theft, or lying, or profane swearing, will not open for
him the kingdom of heaven; nothing but the power
of the grace of God can renew him in his nature.
"When I signed the pledge, I was an unbeliever.
The appeal to me was on the ground of personal ad-
vantage : " How should you like to be respectable,
esteemed," &c. The nearest approach to anything of
a religious nature in the appeal was in the question,
" How should you like to be well dressed, and go to
church?" In the speech I made, on affixing my
name to the pledge, I said, " I am resolved to free
myself from the tyrant Bum." There was not a
thought of God; my motive in that act and declara-
tion was a mere selfish one. In all my struggle I
never uttered a prayer. I had not prayed for years.
POWER OF MY WILL. 459
I said during the struggle, "Oh, my God! I shall
die; " and after Jesse Goodrich had encouraged me,
I said, " By God's help, I will keep up a brave heart."
Yet I had no thought of asking God's help. I heed-
lessly used a term.
I fought that battle alone for six days, and though
nearly thirty-eight years have passed away, that garret
bedroom, my bed, my broken trunk, the window in
the roof, the little strip of carpet, the water-jug, my
shabby clothing as it lay on the one chair in the room,
are so vividly present before me, that, were I an
artist, I could reproduce the scene in all its detail on
the canvas. When I had obtained the victory, there
was no thought of thankfulness to God; it was a sen-
sation of pride in the consciousness of the power of
my will; and I often boasted that no human being
helped or encouraged me in that struggle, with the
sole exception of Jesse Goodrich. Do I undervalue
the grace of God in all this? ]STo; I simply wish to
state that a man may abstain, if he will.
To return to my own case. I continued for five
months an abstainer from drink. I entered the field
as a lecturer, self-reliant and boastful. Then I fell,
covered with shame and mortification. After a week's
absence, I returned from Boston to Worcester, where
I was living, and re-signed the pledge, giving up all
expectation of any more public advocacy. I have re-
lated all this at length in my Autobiography.
It was after that lapse that I cried out, " Oh, my
Father! may Thy hand support me, and my prayer
ever be, ' Hold Thou me up, and I shall be safe.' ' :
Yes, thus I would tell the drunkard, he can stop drink-
ing by the power of his will; but every day he abstains
in his own strength, in the midst of temptation and
460 " LOUD, HELP ME ! "
the slumbering appetite, he does it at a risk; but
when he puts forth all his energies, and then trusts in
God's mercy and grace, he is safe.
In my experience, I have found illustrations of this
fact. One gentleman told me that for years after he
signed the pledge, he would walk around a square
rather than pass a certain saloon he had such a
horror of going back to his past degraded life. " But,"
said he, " when the grace of God came into my heart,
I was no longer afraid. I could say, ' Lord, help me ! '
and was safe."
I have been asked, " Do you believe that the grace
of God can take away the appetite for drink? "
When a man tells me the appetite is all gone, I think
he is mistaken; when he tells me the desire to drink
is gone, I believe him; but, in my opinion, that is a
different thing. I may have no desire, in fact, the
drink may be hateful to me, the smell of it offensive,
I may loathe it with an absolute loathing, and yet the
appetite be then in my system.
A lady wrote me once : " Will you dare to say that
the grace of God will not take away the love of sin? "
I say, if a man has the grace of God in his heart, he
will hate sin, and that which tends to or produces sin ;
but the appetite for drink may smoulder in his system.
That is physical, not moral; something that may be
removed or relieved by medicine perhaps,* not by the
grace of God, except by a miracle. The grace of
God has certain functions, but the grace of God will
not prevent drink from affecting the brain and nervous
system, if a man drinks. You can poison a Christian
as quickly as you can a Hottentot. If two men the
one brimming over with the grace of God, and the
* I have little faith in quack nostrums.
ABSURD REPORTS. 461
other who does not believe in the grace of God
take prussic acid, they will both go down together.
We are accused of putting total abstinence before
the gospel in the reformation of the drunkard. I
reply, the total-abstinence pledge must reform the
drunkard, whether he be a subject of the grace of
God or not. Every child knows that if the drunkard
ceases to drink, he ceases to be a drunkard, and the
grace of God will not save him unless he abstains.
It is a physical impossibility for a confirmed drunkard
to drink intoxicating liquor and continue a sober man,
except by such a miracle as the world has never seen.
The appetite for intoxicating liquors, when once fast-
ened on the system, produces, in frequent cases, a
certain something a mystery to us who have no
knowledge of physiology, and even to those who have
that responds to the first touch of alcohol, and the
man has no power to prevent it. I will speak of what
I know by my own experience.
I am sometimes asked, " Have you the appetite
now? " My reported replies are, some of them, very
absurd, and positively wrong. A very dear friend
says that I cannot pass a place where liquor is sold,
without a return of the old appetite in all its force.
Another says that I never see it without wanting it.
Some one writes : " John B. Gough was a hard
drinker for perhaps fifteen years (this is a mistake;
only seven years from my first drinking to my pledge
of abstinence). We know scores of men who have
been perfect sots for twice as many years, and to-day
they are free; they have no more appetite for liquor
than a babe, and the very sight of it is disgusting.
Now, why should not Mr. Gough be entitled to all
that comes with the grace of God as well as they?
462 THE OLD SENSATIONS.
Certainly God is not disposed to leave this old war-
rior, whose locks are whitened with thirty years' cam-
paign, to fight the enemy in his own bosom still ; and
yet we believe he confesses that this is true ; " and the
writer states, in addition : " These men are free, and
he is in bondage."
Let me in reply to these statements say, that the
only effect produced on me by passing a saloon is dis-
gust; and the appearance of it at the table, in the
cars, or anywhere, is unpleasant to me. It is not with
fear I look at it, but with distaste. I may say with
others, the appetite is all gone, and I have no more
desire for it than a babe ; but if I take a swallow of
it what then? will it produce no more effect on me
than it would on a babe? This is the point to decide.
Can I, who was once an intemperate drinker, ever be
a moderate drinker?
"When I first began a Christian life and united with
the church, in 1845, 1 partook of the communion when
intoxicating wine was used. I have reason to suppose
it was the wine of commerce. I once told the minis-
ter that the church smelt like a grog-shop after the
ordinance, and that the odor of alcohol was on every
communicant's breath. I partook of that wine. Did
it stir up in me a raging appetite for stimulants? Not
at all ; but soon after, I gave up the use of intoxicating
wine at the communion, and have passed the cup
whenever I had the slightest idea that alcoholic wine
was used. Was I afraid of it? I can hardly say
that. What was its effect on me? The small draught
of that wine warmed my stomach. It brought back
to me vividly the old sensations, though it did not
mount to my head' and affect my brain; yet it was a
reminder of the old bad times, and called up the asso-
WHAT IS THE "APPETITE"? 463
ciations connected with the use of this very article in
another way than as a religious ordinance. I must
acknowledge that the glow and warmth was to me a
gratification; and I was startled at the pleasant sen-
sations produced by the alcohol, even in so small a
quantity, in my system. I could not help that if I
took it, and I determined to use it no more.
So with the use of it in cooking in jellies, cus-
tards, and so on. The effect on me was not at once
to rouse the appetite, but to produce a sensation of
pleasure in a slight degree, and with that sensation an
inclination to try it again. Thus I gave up its use in
cooking, and in every way, shape, and manner, ^ot
that I felt I must become a drunkard, but the sensa-
tions, while in one sense disagreeable, were associated
in my mind with exhilaration, and the delicious thrill
of the nervous system, that to me was once so fasci-
nating which a man of different temperament knows
no more of than a deaf man knows of music.
This is what I call the appetite; and if I, or any
other person with a similar experience, should reason
that the appetite was gone, and the grace of God
would keep us from falling into sin, that we might
use this article so many good Christians were using
with no detriment, only using it in moderation, I
firmly believe it would be a physical impossibility, and
that I or any other person would drift again into
drunkenness. So, instead of boasting that the grace
of God has taken away the appetite, I say the grace
of God enables me to abstain from drinking, and I
thank Him that out of His abounding mercy the desire
for it is taken away ; and at the risk of coming under
the condemnation of a Boston D.D., who says that
"a man who cannot partake of alcoholic wine at
464 NO EFFORT OF HIS OWN.
communion without arousing his appetite, is neither
fit for the communion nor benefited by it," I shall, as
long as I live, refuse positively to partake of the wine
of commerce, or alcoholic wine, when offered at the
ordinance of the Lord's Supper.
I honestly believe that if I wilfully used it in cooked
food, or even at the communion-table, knowing what
I do, I should commit sin. I often pleasantly and
profitably partake of the Lord's Supper in churches
where unintoxicating wine is used, and I hope to see
the day when alcoholic wine will be banished from the
table of the Lord, and the pure juice of the grape
will be substituted.
The idea that I cannot pass a grog-shop without a
desire to partake of liquor, or that I take with me a
travelling companion as a precaution, is simply ab-
surd. I saw, the other day, in the " Congregation-
alist," a report of two cases in which the appetite had
been entirely taken away: one where the person had
been for years a confirmed drunkard, and the appetite
was taken away entirely, with no effort of his own.
Now I do not deny that, but simply say, if such is
the pure fact, it was a miracle; it was contrary to
physical law. Do you believe that the inflamed state
of the stomach as show r n to us in Sewall's plates,
the congestion, the thickening of the coats, the com-
plete disorder of the w r hole nervous system, and all
the irritation that causes the desire, can be removed
with no inconvenience and no effort, and that the
whole system shall become as free from all appetite
as when the first glass was taken? I do not believe
it, except by a miracle; and I say to those who assert
that such a miracle has been performed : " You of all
others should be thankful to God, every hour of your
PRAY ON, FIGHT ON. 465
remaining life, that with no effort you have been
spared the struggle and the fight that so many of
your less-privileged brothers have endured. If such
an assumed entire removal of the appetite be true,
and you ever fall, with no remains of the appetite in
your system, redeemed from all necessity of a battle
that often leaves your less-favored brother weak for
days, I say, if you ever drink again, you deserve
no sympathy from men or forgiveness from God."
To-day I thank God for the experience of the few
days, yes, the few months, after I signed the pledge ;
for perhaps, had I not gone through that awful fight,
I might have looked with contempt at the conflict of
others, and despised them that they did not reach the
heights of perfect freedom with no effort on their
part.
These cases are very frequently recorded. I would
say to my struggling brother: "Do not be dismayed;
pray on, fight on. Remember when Paul prayed that
the thorn in the flesh might be removed, the answer
was, ' My grace is sufficient for thee,' while even the
thorn was not removed ; and remember also that He
will not permit any who trust in Him to be con-
founded or put to shame." Often have I been com-
pelled to reply to some poor struggling souls who
are discouraged because the appetite is not gone,
who listen to the story of those who are rejoicing in
perfect freedom with no effort of their own, and are
doubting whether they are outcasts from God's mercy
or not. I would hardly refer to this, were it not for
the sake of such, and with my whole heart I sympa-
thize with and pray for them.
When a man says, as one did in a public meeting,
" Gough has been thirty years a teetotaler, and he
466 INHERITED APPETITE.
has the appetite yet; I was in jail a year ago, and
now I am free, for the appetite has been taken away,"
I can only reply to such a statement in the words of
the king of Israel to Benhadad's messenger: "Let
not him that girdeth on his harness boast himself as
he that taketh it off."
" This kind goeth not out but by prayer and fast-
ing," said one of these privileged ones to me. "I
prayed and fasted, and the appetite was taken from
me in a moment."
Read portions of a letter I received from a sincere
Christian man in the ministry:
"My grandfather died of delirium tremens. My mother was a
drinker all her life. I have a natural appetite for drink. When a boy
of ten, I determined never to drink. I went through college ; studied
for the ministiy. When ordained, I sought the hardest work I could
find, and engaged as a home missionary on the Western frontier. I am
very much worn with hard work, and this cruel desire for drink is my
torment. Whenever I see it, I want it; if I think of it, I want it. I
have covered my whole life with prayer as a garment. I have fasted ; I
have abstained from animal food for two years. I have spent hundreds
of dollars out of my meagre income at water-cure establishments ; and,
for all this, I tremble every day on the awful verge of the precipice of
indulgence."
That man is a hero whom I honor; and it seems to
me that the angels look with interest on such a
struggle. Shall I discourage him by intimating that
he has none of the real, genuine grace of God in his
heart? No! a thousand times no! I will tell him,
as I did in a letter I wrote him, not to be dismayed,
but to " fight the good fight," " looking unto Jesus."
Dr. Henry A. Reynolds said at the International
Conference in Philadelphia, in 1876 :
" I am one of those unfortunate men who have an inherited appetite
for strong drink. I love liquor to-night as well as an infant loves
milk."
"GOD HELP ME, I LIKE IT." 467
Who will say that Dr. Reynolds has not the grace
of God in his heart? But he says:
" The love for intoxicants is as much a part of my make-up as my
hand."
But he also says :
" I stand here to-night believing myself to be a monument of God's
grace."
I conversed, not a month since, with a converted
drunkard and liquor-seller who has an inherited appe-
tite. With tears in his eyes, he told me how he strug-
gled; how the smell of it affected him; how, when
despondent and weary, his thoughts would turn to
the drink. But he said:
"I believe God will keep me; for though He does not take the appe-
tite away in answer to my prayers, He has given me grace to resist the
temptation for years, and I believe He will to the end."
Another said to me:
" I have fought the appetite for sixteen years. I dreamed the other
night that I drank a glass of liquor, and, God help me ! I liked it ; and I
like it now, waking or sleeping, at times I long for it."
These men are all men of prayer, and perhaps pray
more earnestly than you or I ever did; but they are
left to fight, and, thanks to the Great Captain of our
salvation, they will fight to the victory.
I have a letter before me from a minister of the
gospel, who lost his church by his intemperance. A
few of his members clung to him, and choosing him
for their minister, started a new enterprise in a hall.
Many put confidence in his repentance and reform.
The new church was prosperous. The pastor was
earnest and sincere. The Sunday-school was flourish-
ing. The prospects were bright. Gradually he was
gaining the confidence of the people of the town, as
468 "l AM HEART-BROKEN."
the increasing congregation declared. This went on
for a year or more. The minister was appointed on
a committee for procuring a Sabbath-school library,
and was deputed to go to the city to select said
library, the other gentlemen of the committee having
perfect confidence in his judgment. I now quote from
his letter:
" I had no desire for drink; the appetite was all gone. I was perfectly
free. I went to , and called on an old classmate for information
as to the best method of procuring the books I needed, as I was to pay
cash for them to the amount of a hundred and fifty dollars, which I had
with me. My friend invited me to dinner. He was a wine-drinker
strictly moderate. He asked me to take a glass of wine. I had no desire
for it ; and, thinking I might take one glass, and feeling perhaps a little
sensitive at the thought that my classmate might suppose I could not
take one glass with him, I did take that glass, then another. How I got
out of the house I cannot tell ; but I woke from a drunken sleep four days
after, ragged, penniless : the money held in trust for the books all gone ;
and now I am ruined. I dare not go back to . What shall I do?
Where shall I go? I am heartbroken."
Speaking from a deep experience and wide obser-
vation, I would say to you, my reformed friend, " Let
him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall."
All the powers of earth and hell, combined, could not
have wrecked this man, had he not drank. All the
rest was the consequence of that act, and the grace
of God did not prevent it. He said he had no desire
for it, and thought he could take one glass with im-
punity. There is the mistake, the desire for it was
gone, but the appetite remained, just as the crouch-
ing pet tiger licked playfully the man's hand till the
blood was tasted; and then hold him who can? The
only safety for the reformed drunkard is total absti-
nence, let others say what they will. Pray God to
keep you from drinking, then the drink has no power
over you. But if you drink, the grace of God can-
PLEDGE AND THE CROSS. 469
not save you, unless by a miracle. The days of strug-
gling will soon be over, and we shall say, " Thanks
be to God who giveth us the victory through our
Lord Jesus Christ."
Since writing the above, I have seen extracts from
a work written by Mrs. S. M. J. Henry, one of the
most devoted and active of the noble army of Chris-
tian women now engaged in the cause. I commend
most heartily the book published by the National
Temperance Society, 58 Reade Street, New York,
entitled " The Pledge and the Cross." The author
presents the case fairly and most lucidly. I give but
one sentence. Speaking of a man who had fallen
after his conversion, Mrs. Henry says :
"Now, what was the trouble? The failure was not in God's grace,
nor in the sincerity of the man, but in an unsound doctrine a simple
human claim for God's grace which He has nowhere seconded : in claim-
ing that it will do a work which is just as much out of its province as to
straighten a crooked bone, or eye ; or to hew stone, and draw lumber to
supply the needy with a home. The bone or eye may be straightened,
the stone hewn, the house builded, if the right means are employed ; so
the man may be carried over the crisis of his reformation, if God's good
and abundant grace can find a channel ; if His spirit can find a medium
in some loving, patient Christian heart and hand that will furnish the
practical help just at the tune it is needed in the man's hour of ex-
tremity."
29
CHAPTEK XXXm.
MODERATE DRINKING AND TOTAL ABSTINENCE.
The Moderate Drinker The Moderate Drinker of Stockholm Gough
and his Moderate-drinking Friend Dr. B. "W. Richardson on Mod-
erate Drinking Alcohol not included in the Scheme of Life The
Most Helpless Period passed without it The Four Stages of Life
Voice of Science Stimulation Harmful to Health Foods and Alco-
hol "The Alcoholic Stages" "The Devil and the Peacock"
Wine and Civilization Wine-drinking Nations Wine only Dirty
Water Total Abstinence for the Sake of Others Abusing the
" Moderate Drinker " A Dinner without Wine The Right, the
Wrong, the Doubtful A Touching Story The Idolized Son Wine
at New Year's Calls Misnamed Friends.
PROPOSE giving several reasons why
I commend total abstinence to the moder-
ate drinker. A moderate drinker is a per-
son who can drink without intoxication.
A gentleman once said to me. " Six
glasses of whiskey toddy in a day is not
excess, if I can stand it." There is no
virtue in moderation, if this is the crite-
rion by which we judge. Where can you
draw the line between moderation and excess? I have
spoken of this on another page, and will only state a
few facts illustrating the various opinions or judg-
ments of moderation.
Dr. Most, a German physician, in the "Encylc. Med.
and Chir." gives the case of a man in his seventieth
470
A MODERATE DRINKER. 471
year, who for twenty years had drank, daily, upwards
of a quart of rum, or nearly forty hogsheads in all.
Professer Huss thus describes the ordinary life of a
moderate drinker among the laboring classes of Stock-
holm:
" Rising at five or six in the morning, according to the season, he
takes a cup of coffee mixed with a glass of brandy, containing from two
to three ounces of the spirit, which is there usually prepared from pota-
toes. He then attends to his occupations till eight o'clock, when he takes
breakfast and a second glass of brandy. At his dinner, at noon, he has
another glass, or more usually a glass and a half. At five or six he
again has a glass; and, lastly, with his supper, at eight or nine, still
another. He thus consumes from five to five and a half glasses regularly
every day, enjoying all the time a character among his comrades as a
person of great moderation, who scarcely takes what is requisite for an
individual in his station. Even if he becomes intoxicated on two days
of eveiy week, the Saturdays and Sundays, he does not acquire the
reputation of a drunkard."
Men have been known to swallow from sixteen to
twenty glasses daily, without showing signs of intoxi-
cation. I have known men who could and did con-
sume a quantity of liquor every day, one-half of which
would make me drunk and incapable, while they were
perfectly sober, apparently; at any rate they were
moderate drinkers, and it would have been termed a
libel to call them drunkards. I once met a man in
the streets of Boston, who hailed me with
"Well, Gough, how are ye?"
"Quite well; how are you?"
" Oh, I'm going on in the same old jog."
" Are you drinking yet? "
" Yes, just about the same as I did in the old times.
You see, Gough, I had a mind of my own. I could
always drink you down, and I do not think I was ever
drunk in my life."
He was one of my old drinking companions, and
472 FOUR STAGES OF LIFE.
could always consume double, yes, treble tbe quantity
I could. I became a wreck in trying to do as he did;
and he, at the time I saw him, fifteen years after I had
signed the pledge, was a reputable moderate drinker;
drinking in all those years, day after day, what would
have destroyed another, body and soul.
On moderation, I cannot speak to you in the lan-
guage of science, but I rejoice there are so many who
can and will. Among the foremost is Dr. B. W.
Richardson. To him and his admirable work, "Mod-
erate Drinking, For and Against, from Scientific
Points of View," I refer you. I can commend total
abstinence for the moderate drinker on the ground
that every drunkard began by moderation, and became
what he is by attempting to be a moderate drinker
and failing. On the ground of its- being utterly use-
less for a healthy system, I refer you to the scientist,
and quote a few extracts from Dr. Richardson's
work :
11 Science declares that alcohol is not included in the scheme of life.
Try a man by himself. Every child of woman born, if it be not per-
verted, lives without alcohol, grows up without it ; spends and this is
a vital point spends the very happiest part of its life without it ; gains
its growing strength and vitality without it; feels no want for it. The
course of its life is, at the most, on an average of the best lives sixty
years ; of which the first fifteen, in other words the first fourth, are the
most dangerous ; yet it goes through that fourth without the use of this
agent. But if in the four stages of life it can go through the first and
the most critical stage without alcohol, why cannot it traverse the re-
maining three? Is Nature so unwise in her doings, so capricious, so
uncertain, that she withholds a giver of life from the helpless, and sup-
plies it only to the helpful? Impossible! She provides for the helpless
at once a food and a drink their mother's milk.
" Further, there have been many men and women, millions and mill-
ions of them, who have gone on through the four stages of life, from the
first to the last, without resort to this agent for the support of life. Some
men, forming whole nations, have never heard of it; some have heard
of it, and have abjured its use. In England and America at this time
there are probably nearly upon six millions of persons who have abjured
DECLARATION OF SCIENCE. 473
this agent. Do they fall or fail in value of life from the abjuration? The
evidence, as we shall distinctly see by and by, is all the other way. There
are, lastly, some who are forced to live without the use of this agent.
Do they fall or die in consequence? There is not a single instance in
illustration.
" On all these points, science, when she is questioned earnestly and
interpreted justly, is decisive and firm ; and if you question her in yet
another direction, she is not less certain. You ask her for a comparison
of alcohol and of man, in respect to the structure of both, and her evi-
dence is as the sun at noon in its clearness. She has taken the body of
man to pieces ; she has learned the composition of its structure skin,
muscle, bone, viscera, brain, nervous cord, organs of sense. She knows
of what these parts are formed, and she knows from whence the compo-
nents came. She finds in the muscles fibrine ; it came from the fibrine
of flesh, or from the gluten or albumen of the plants on which the man
has fed. She finds tendon and cartilage and earthy matter of the skele-
ton; they were from the vegetable kingdom. She finds water in the
body in such abundance that it makes up seven parts out of eight of the
whole ; and that she knows the source of readily enough. She finds iron ;
that she traces from the earth. She finds fat ; and that she traces to
sugar and starch. In short, she discovers, in whatever structure she
searches, the origin of the structure. But, as a natural presence, she
finds no ardent spirit there in any part or fluid. Nothing made from
spirit. Did she find either, she would say the body is diseased, and, it
may be, was killed by that which is found.
" Sometimes in the bodies of men she discovers the evidences of some
conditions that are not natural. She compares these bodies with the
bodies of other men, or with the bodies of inferior animals, as sheep and
oxen, and finds that the unnatural appearances are peculiar to persons
who have taken alcohol, and are indications of new structural changes
which are not proper, and which she calls disease. Thus, by two tests,
science tries the comparison between alcohol and man. She finds in the
body no structure made from alcohol ; she finds in the healthy body no
alcohol ; she finds in those who have taken alcohol changes of the struct-
ure, and those are changes of disease. By all these proofs she declares
alcohol to be entirely alien to the structure of man. It does not build up
the body ; it undermines and destroys the building.
" One step more. If you question science on the comparison which
exists between foods and alcohol, she gives you facts on every hand. She
shows you a natural and all-suificient and standard food. She calls it
milk. She takes it to pieces ; she says it is made up of caseine, for the
construction of muscular and other active tissues ; of sugar and fat, for
supplying fuel to the body for the animal warmth ; of salts for the earthy,
and of water for the liquid parts. This is a perfect standard. Holds it
any comparison with alcohol? Not a jot. The comparison is the same
with all other natural foods.
AN ARAB LEGEND.
" Man, going forth to find food for his wants, discovers it in various
substances, but only naturally, in precisely such substances, and in the
same proportions of such substances, as exist in the standard food on
which he first fed. Alcohol alien to the body of man, is alike alien to
the natural food of man."
On the " Alcoholic Stages," Dr. Richardson says :
" A man or woman sitting down, or standing up, if you like, to drink
wine or other stimulant, always starts on the way that leads through four
stages toward an easily realizable destination. Stage one is that gentle
stimulation called moderate excitement, or support. Stage two is eleva-
tion whatever that may mean. It is not elevation of character ; of
that I am satisfied. Stage three is confusion of mind, action, and deed,
with sad want of elevation. Stage four is complete concatenation of cir-
cumstances, all the stages perfectly matured, the journey completed,
with the traveller lying down, absolutely prostrated in mind and in body.
The destination is reached, and found to be a human being dead drunk
and incapable."
Some years ago I received a letter from a friend
that seems so apposite to this as to be quoted for an
illustration. It is as follows :
" QUEBEC.
"DEAR SIR: There are persons whom it is difficult to persuade that
the first glass drank by an individual who will be drunk by taking any
larger quantity affects such individuals so as to produce any degree of
drunkenness. I differ with such people, and think the following, from a
small work on the natural history of birds, in possession of one of my
little girls, an apt illustration, of which you are at liberty to make such
use as you please. I am, &c., .
"THE DEVIL AND THE PEACOCK.
" The Arabs, says Bochart, denominate the peacock as a bird of ill-
omen, for the following reasons : it was the cause of the first entrance of
the Devil into Paradise, and the expulsion of Adam and Eve. They
also relate that the Devil watered the vine with the blood of four ani-
mals : fh'st, with that of a peacock ; and when the vine began to put
forth leaves, with the blood of an ape ; when the grapes began to appear,
with that of a lion ; and lastly, when they were quite ripe, with that of a
hog ; which is the reason, say they, that the wine-bibber at first struts
about like a peacock, then begins to dance, play, and make grimaces
like an ape, then rages like a lion, and, lastly, lies down in a ditch
like a hosr."
DETERIORATION OF NATIONS. 475
In reply to the statement that wine has been the
promoter of civilization, and the source of inspiration
to poet and artist, Dr. Richardson says:
" It is said that the use of wine and its allies has been the source of
the power of the most powerful nations. It is said that the wine-cup has
been the fountain of that wit and poetry and artistic wisdom, if I may
use the term, which has made the illustrious men of the world so illus-
trious and so generally useful as they have been to the world. Take
away the wine-cup, it is argued, and the whole intellectual life must
needs become ' flat, stale, and unprofitable.' It were indeed a pity if this
were the lookout of total abstinence, a second deluge of water, with
not so much as a graceful dove and an olive-branch to cheer the track-
less waste. It were indeed a pity of pities if this were the final lookout
of total abstinence in the intellectual sphere. Can it be that all intel-
lectual energy and hilarity must die out with the abolition of the wine-
cup?
" Science, ever fair, says that some nations and wonderful peoples
that have lived have been wine-drinkers at certain periods of their his-
tory. But she draws also this most important historical lesson, that the
great nations were, as a rule, water-drinkers purely, until they became
great; then they took to wine and other luxuries, and soon became
little. Up to the time of Cyrus, the Persians were water-drinkers ; they
became all-powerful, and then also became such confirmed wine-drinkers
that, if they had some great duty to perform, they discussed the details
of it when inflamed with wine, and rejected the judgment or revised it
when they had become sober, and vice versa. Surely this was the acme
of perfection as a test of wine. Curiously, it didn't answer. With its
luxury Persia succumbed, fell into hands of less luxurious conquerors,
and, like a modern rake, found its progress anything but promising hi
the end.
" The Greeks in their first and simple days were clothed in victory
over men and over nature. They grew powerful ; they sang and danced,
and all but worshipped wine ; but it did not sustain them in their gran-
deur, as it ought to have done if the theory of such sustainment be
correct. The Roman rule became overwhelming out of the simplicity
of its first life. It rose into luxury, and made wine almost a god. But
Rome fell. Wine did not sustain it. It is all through history the same.
There is not an instance, when we come to the analysis of fact and cir-
cumstance, in which wine has not been to nations, as to man individu-
ally, a mocker. It has been the death of nations. It has swept down
nations, as it sweeps down men, in the prime of their life, and in the
midst of their glory."
476 THE POETIC DKEAM.
And thus Dr. Richardson destroys the poetic dream
of sparkling, ruby wine:
" Science tells us that where one or two disguises are removed, even
blood is water ; as to wine, that is mere dirty water, sixteen bottles,
or cups, or any other equal measures of water, pure and simple, from the
clouds and earth, to one poor bottle or cup of a burning, fiery liquid
which has been called ardent spirit, or spirit of wine, or alcohol, with
some little coloring matter, in certain cases a little acid, in other cases a
little sugar, and in still other cases a little cinder stuff.
" It is a pitiful fall, but it is such, and science not only declares it, but
proves it so to be. A pitiful let-down, that men throughout all ages who
have called themselves wine-drinkers have been water-drinkers after all ;
that men who have called themselves wine-merchants have been water-
merchants ; that men who have bought and still buy wines at fabulous
prices have been buying and still are buying water! A dozen of cham-
pagne, bought at a cost of five pounds ten shillings, very choice, I am
speaking by the book, consisted, when it was all measured out, of
three hundred ounces (or fifteen pints) of fluid, of which fluid thirteen
pints and a half were pure water, the rest ardent spirit, with a little
carbonic acid, some coloring matter like burnt sugar, a light flavoring
ether in almost infinitesimal proportion, and a trace of cinder stuff.
Science, looking on dispassionately, records merely the facts. If she
thinks that five pounds ten shillings was a heavy sum to pay for thirteen
pints and a half of water and one pint and a half of spirit, she says
nothing ; she leaves that to the men and women of sentiment and pas-
sionate feeling, buyers and sellers and drinkers all round."
I appeal to the moderate drinker on a higher ground
and a nobler motive than self-preservation. I ask him
to abstain for the sake of others. As a Christian,
what is your influence over the young man drifting to
ruin through the drink? You urge him to abstain.
If he does as you bid him, he is safe ; if he attempts
to follow you, he is lost. You cannot say, " Come
with us, and we will do you good." You and he
must separate here ; he cannot and dare not go with
you if he would be safe.
We are often accused of abusing the moderate
drinker; I have no disposition to abuse or condemn;
but in view of the terrible evil we fight, and the
"NOT EXACTLY APOLOGIZE." 477
knowledge that all this evil must come to an end
when the present race of the intemperate shall die
out, if there are no more made, and that the drunk-
ards are all drawn from the ranks of moderation, and
when death makes gaps in their ranks they are filled
by recruits from the army of moderate drinkers, we
must speak out, and implore the moderate drinker to
give up his gratification for the sake of others. I
have never accused them of wilfully doing harm. I
simply ask them to investigate, and to test their
position.
I was once entertained by a gentleman as an invited
guest. It was a large dinner-party, composed of
several magistrates, a member of parliament, one or
two ministers of the gospel, and others, altogether
a very intelligent and intellectual company. At the
table I noticed that the host became rather uneasy,
and looked nervously up and down the board. At
last he said, hesitatingly:
" Gentlemen, I know not but I ought to apologize;
not exactly apologize, but explain the absence of wine.
It is well known that I present wine, and some of you
may have expected wine, or toddy, and may be disap-
pointed when I tell you that I shall provide neither
wine nor toddy to-day. I ordered the butler to decant
no wine. I do this in honor of Mr. Gough, whom you
are invited to meet. We all know his practice, that
he is a total abstainer; and though we may not agree
with him in all points, yet, out of compliment to him,
we will have no wine to-day."
The countenances of several of the guests fell, and
a damper seemed to be shut down on the spirits of
the company at this announcement that there would
be no artificial stimulants to keep up their spirits. I
478 SETTLE THE DOUBT.
was wofully embarrassed, and felt compelled to say
something.
I did not wish to sit there as a block to their enjoy-
ment, or a wet blanket on the sociability of the com-
pany, so I said:
" Sir, I regret that you should have made any
change in the customary entertainment of your
guests, solely out of compliment to me, or deference
to my opinions. I will change no customary ar-
rangement at my own table to suit any man's whims,
prejudices, or vagaries. If it is right to place wine
and toddy on the table, place it there ! I would, if I
knew it was right to do it. I know it is right to pro-
vide water for my guests, and I do it. So, sir, if you
know it is right, place the wine before your guests.
If it is wrong, never place it there under any consid-
eration, even at the demand or request of your guests.
If you have the slightest doubt as to the right or
wrong of the act of presenting wine or toddy at your
table, or to your friends, abstain from presenting it
till you have settled the doubt."
This is what I ask every moderate drinker to do.
I do not abuse, nor do I think any moderate drinker
intends to make mischief or to wrong any human
being by giving wine; but harm is done. I am no
judge of my neighbor; God is the Judge. I only
ask, " Can any good arise from the use of intoxi-
cating drinks as a beverage, and may there not be
harm?"
A lady told me the following touching story in her
experience. She had a son, her pride, her joy; her
heart was bound up in her boy so clean, so sweet
and lovely, and withal so manly.
One New Year's morning he came into the break-
THE NEW-YEAR CALLS. 479
fast-room, full of life and youthful beauty, and giving
her the morning kiss, said:
" A happy New Year to you, mother, darling ! "
After breakfast, he sprang up, saying:
" Now, mother dear, for the New Year calls ! You
know I have never before really made any, but I shall
make a business of it to-day. Good-bye; again a
happy New Year to you! "
He went out; and said she, "I stood in the bay-
window, and saw him walking down the street. I
was proud of him, my son, eighteen years of age;
tall, shapely, clean, sweet. I watched him, my
mother's heart yearning to him in tenderest love.
After he had turned the corner, I still looked at the
spot where I had last seen him. I returned to my
household duties, and all day I was thinking of my
boy. I heard a hurried or unsteady ring at the door
in the evening, and as the servant opened it, I heard
some confused noises. I rushed to the hall, and
found two young gentlemen, evidently flushed with
wine, bearing between them the helpless form of my
boy my boy ! I asked them to lift him into the
drawing-room, and leave me, thanking them as well
as I was able for their trouble. Then I sat down by
my boy's side, and lifted his head in my lap ; and oh,
how I did cry! I thought my heart would break.
His lips, that I had kissed in the morning, so pure,
so sweet swollen, dry, and feverish; his hair damp
and matted. His clear skin actually seemed coarse;
his eyes half-closed, his breath poisoning the air.
Oh, so offensive! His clothes disarranged. Yes,
there he lay, breathing heavily, utterly unconscious
helplessly drunk. My boy ! my beautiful boy ! What
enemy hath done this? Oh, had it been some vile,
480 FALSE FKIENDSHIP.
vindictive enemy who had thus smitten him, had it
been some cruel foe of mine that had dealt me this
dreadful blow, it would have been a comfort com-
pared with the terrible conviction that this was the
work of his friends ! He had only been with friends.
Friends had sent him home to his mother. Friends
had brought him to his mother's door. Oh, if this is
the work of my boy's friends, how shall I stand be-
tween him and harm ! That night of agony I shall
never forget. That was his first intoxication, but
not his last. His friends laughed at him for being
overcome, and presented him with drink, even
ladies invited him, and now he is far on the road to
drunkenness."
This is the result of friendship, so called. Had I
a son, I would pray God more earnestly to save him
from such friendship than to shield him from his well-
known enemies. For the sake of others, we plead,
then, with the moderate drinker, and remind them
that no possible good can result from their presenta-
tion of wine or strong drink to others ; but there may
be a possible harm as the consequence. I would
rather give the poor drunkard his last glass to allay
the terrible thirst that maddens him, than to give him
the first glass that lays the foundation of the appetite
that leads him to destruction.
CHAPTER XXXIY.
TEMPERANCE AND THE BIBLE. MY VIEWS ON THE
SCRIPTURE QUESTION. INCIDENTS.
Assistance demanded from all Sides Charity The Truth our "Weapon
Scamp's Tavern " ' The Seven Last Plagues ' for Sale here "
Specimen of Liquor-Sellers' Work The Wine of Scripture and of
Commerce Conflicting Authorities One of the " Doubtful Dispu-
tations " Dr. Norman Ker's Statement The Hieroglyphical Argu-
ment Assumed Biblical Commands against Strong Drink Dr.
Samuel H. Cox and J. Fenimore Cooper upon Bible Miracles Absa-
lom's Hair What Fish swallowed Jonah Good Men who endeavor
to sanction Drinking How to answer these Men Advice to the
Reformed Man Let Arguments alone The Outcast's Conversion
Many Churches unsafe for the Reformed Drunkard.
[N another page I have already ex-
pressed my opinions as to prohibi-
tion. I believe that a prohibitory
law, based on the public sentiment
of antagonism to the drink, will be
successfully enforced ; and just in pro-
portion as it is upheld by a spasmodic
effort, pushed through a legislature
without sufficient sentiment to back it, it
will be a failure, and in my opinion worse than
nothing.
I rejoice in every effort that prohibits, cripples, or
lessens in any way the sale of intoxicating liquor. I
give full sympathy to the work of the Society for
481
482 TRUTH WOULD KILL IT.
the Suppression of Crime, in its efforts to prevent
the dealers from violating existing laws. I welcome
every endeavor to break up a single grog-shop, to
curtail the hours for selling, if it be but one hour in
the day. I say to such a worker: "If you can go no
further with us than to reduce the number of licenses
where they may be granted by the city or town coun-
cil, do that; every little helps."
I cry out for assistance from every quarter. Small
help is better than no help; and I will not refuse any
aid given from any source to pull down the strong-
hold of intemperance. While I stand unflinchingly
on the platform of total abstinence and absolute pro-
hibition, combining their forces for the entire aban-
donment of the drinking customs, and the annihilation
of the manufacture and sale of alcoholic beverages, I
hold out my hand to every worker as far as he can go
with me, if it is but a step.
The truth cannot be told without damaging this
horrible business. Did the whole people accept the
truth, the traffic would cease; the truth would kill it.
Even where the truth is accidentally told, it is very
damaging. I heard in Connecticut, many years ago,
that a man named Stephen Camp kept a tavern, and
had procured a new and gaudy sign. There was so
much ornamentation about it that room only was left
for the initial of the man's first name, and the painter
neglected to put the full-stop between the S and the
C, so that it read " S Camp's Tavern." The people
read it " Scamp's Tavern," and there was so much
truth in the statement involuntarily exhibited by the
tavern-keeper, that he at once inserted the period.
But still the letters ran so close together that the
SEVEN LAST PLAGUES. . 483
passers-by would read it " Scamp's Tavern," and he
was compelled to procure a new sign, large enough
to permit him to give the full name, Stephen; and
then he was at peace.
A medical gentleman wrote me a letter giving the
original of the story, oft repeated, of the " Seven
Last Plagues." It has appeared in so many shapes,
and with so many differing particulars, that I insert
the letter, which is as follows :
" DEAR SIR ; When I heard you last night describing the appropriate
signs the rumsellers ought to hang out, showing the effect of their opera-
tions, it occurred to me that I ought to communicate to you a fact which
is too good to be lost.
" In Erie there lived, a few years ago, the Rev. Mr. Reed, of the
Associate Reformed Church. He published a book on the Revelations,
entitled ' The Seven Last Plagues.' This Mr. Reed preached part of his
time in Waterford, where one of his elders kept a tavern. So Mr. Reed
left several copies of his work for sale with this elder, accompanied with
a handbill which contained the title of the book, which was stuck up
on the bar, in large letters :
'"THE SEVEN LAST PLAGUES" FOR SALE HERE.'
" This conspicuous handbill had the eflfect of arresting the attention
of visitors, and you can easily imagine how annoying it soon became to
the tavern-keeper, when humorous and fun-loving persons would look up
at the bill and utter some sly remark. This so mortified the landlord
that he eventually gave up the sale of the poison, and kept a temperance
house. Having stopped at the house both before and after the trans-
action here stated, I know the fact to be as stated."
Were the liquor-sellers compelled to exhibit speci-
mens of their work in the saloon-windows, placing
some poor wreck of a man in a conspicuous place,
with bloated face, bleared eyes, swollen, cracked,
white lips, trembling limbs, noisome breath, offensive
to every sense, in his rags and dirt, and label him
" Such things as this made out of men here," it would
do more to break up this vile business than all the
484 WINES OF SCRIPTURE.
efforts put forth by the most ardent advocate of the
temperance reform.
There has been much discussion, and many volumes
written, and some strong feelings expressed, and, I
think, bitterness engendered, on the wines of Script-
ure. I pay very little attention to this agitation, as
the subject is of no particular moment to me. I am
not learned, and know nothing of Hebrew or Greek;
and if learned men say that the Bible sanctions the
use of alcoholic wine, that the Saviour made and
drank intoxicating wine, I can only reply that I do
not believe it. But there is no necessity for argu-
ment with me, as I do not understand the question, and
it is perfectly immaterial to me what wine the Saviour
made and drank, as it is what clothes He wore, or
what food He ate; for I am no more bound to drink
what He drank than I am to eat what He ate, or to
wear the kind of clothing in which He was ap-
parelled.
The question of the wines of Scripture, in my
opinion, has nothing whatever to do with the wines
of commerce, the ardent spirits, the ale, and other
intoxicating drinks we are fighting to-day. If I be-
lieved the Bible condemned total abstinence from
alcoholic beverages, I would advocate their disuse no
more. If the Bible commanded me to drink alco-
holic beverages, I must obey. But I thank God that,
with the light He has thrown on the page of His
word, and with my conception of the character and
mission of Christ on earth, I know, as well as I need
to know anything, that there is no condemnation of
total abstinence in the Bible to me, that it is per-
mitted, if not commanded; and if you, with your
Hebrew and Greek, and all your learning, can only
DEBATABLE GROUND. 485
come to the conclusion of a minister of the gospel
who told me that " Christ liked the wine best that
had the most alcohol in it," then I thank God I am
not an educated man, and know nothing of Hebrew
and Greek.
But this is debatable ground. It is an unprofitable
discussion; it is one of the " doubtful disputations."
"While one very learned man insists that it was simply
impossible that the ancients could have preserved
their grape-juice unfermented, unless they boiled it
in air-tight flasks, another equally learned declares
not only that it is possible, but proves it by actual
experiment. I quote from Dr. Norman Ker :
" This distinguished divine might as well declare he had demonstrated
that no man-child had ever been born in England with a nose on his
face. I know that I was born with a nose, because I could see it and
feel it ; and I know that wine could be preserved unfermented and unin-
toxicating, because I had it and drank it."
Another very learned man tells us that the " fruit
of the vine " used by our Lord was intoxicating red
wine. I hope he does not mean the " wine when it is
red." Others equally learned deny that. One rabbi
will tell you, as one told me, " We use no fermented
wine at our Passover. We boil the raisins, and use
the liquid juice." Another rabbi declares that they
use wine that is fermented; that is, wine that will
make men drunk; that some cannot take at all without
danger.
Some learned people get angry; and because some
others, equally learned, tell us that the red wine was
not intoxicating, they declare that such men would
trample on all that is holy, on Christ himself, to gain
their point and carry out their theories. Some declare
that the Bible never commends the use of intoxicating
30
486 "WE RAN AND THEY RAN."
liquors, and some affirm that it countenances and
commends them.
The atheist asks, and has asked more than once,
" Can a book be true, or can its inspirer be infallible,
when in it liquids which men of science and medical
practitioners know to be artificial poisons are explic-
itly commended and unstintingly approved of ? " Let
Dr. Norman Ker reply:
" That believers in the Bible and its author, who
are acquainted with the fact, a fact beyond dispute,
that alcohol is a poison, and therefore all alcoholic
liquors are poisonous, are absolutely certain that the
inspired volume cannot possibly sanction the use of
intoxicating beverages."
Then some learned Christian declares that such a
defender is as bad as the infidel. And so the discus-
sion waxes warm, and the disputants are claiming
each for his own side the victory, reminding you of
the battle of " Shirra Muir," of which the old song
says:
" There's some say that we wan,
Some say that they wan ;
Some say that nane wan at a', man.
But one thing I'm sure,
That at Shirra Muir,
A battle there was, which I saw, man.
And we ran and they ran, and they ran and we ran,
And we ran and they ran awa', man."
Now, amidst all this learning and science and
parading of knowledge of the dead languages, where
are the poor, illiterate people who desire to do right
to take their position? We are bewildered, and some-
times shocked. It is strangely confusing for us, pro-
fessing no profound learning, to be confronted by so
much knowledge! I once received a letter, on one
WE ARE PUZZLED. 487
side of the sheet were some passages of Scripture,
and on the other some dots and dashes and half-
circles, appearing to me as if German text and Old
English had gone mad together, and were pulling
each other to pieces and scattering the fragments.
Then came the question in good sound English, "Are
you prepared to deny that this is the correct reading
of the quotations I have made ? " I felt more like
dropping the paper, and running away, than attempt-
ing to come to any decision. It was more like an
incantation; it appeared like something "uncanny,"
as the Scotch say; and to this day I have never been
able to ascertain from the hieroglyphics what the true
rendering of the quotations was.
Now, we who are ignorant must go to the learned
to ascertain what is correct, and if they do not agree,
what shall we do? We are in the position of the
voter who could not read, asking a politician to read
the declaration of a certain party. You may be sure
the politician gave such a version of the document as
suited his purposes or preferences. So I give up
altogether any interest in the discussion of the Script-
ure wine question as being to me unprofitable; and
amid the smoke and the dust of conflict of opinions, I
will look beyond and through it all to the hard fact
that intemperance is the curse of the world; and,
without judging others for their opinion, will do my
best to stay this tide of evil, and work with the means
God has put into my hands to lift up the fallen, and
build a barrier between the unpolluted lip of the child
and the agency that promotes and perpetuates the
evil.
I have been met with many quotations other than
Paul's advice to Timothy. Here is one sent me as a
488 MISQUOTING SCHIPTUKE.
positive command in the Bible to drink strong drink.
Dent. xiv. 26, " Thou shalt bestow that money for
whatsoever thy soul lusteth after," for oxen, for sheep,
or for wine, or for strong drink, &c. ; and Prov. xxxi.
4, " Give strong drink to him that is ready to perish,"
&c., is often quoted. I was told that a Cameronian
in Scotland declared he had a command to drink
spirits, " for are we not told to try the spirits? " And
so he would try every whiskey-bottle that was pre-
sented to him, quoting Scripture at the same time.
There is scarcely any absurdity, or even wrong-doing,
that some men do not pretend to find a warrant for in
Scripture.
I heard a man defend gambling from the passage,
" The lot is cast into the lap, but the whole dispos-
ing thereof is of the Lord." It is told of another that
he refused to believe the Bible, because it was opposed
to personal cleanliness ; and when asked for evidence,
quoted the passage, " He that is filthy, let him be
filthy still." It is quite a common thing to hear men
of education misquoting Scripture, or repeating some
sentence as from the Bible which they have fished up
in their reading, or make statements as from the
Bible that are not there.
Many years ago, on one of the Hudson River steam-
boats, Dr. Sam. II. Cox introduced me to James Feni-
more Cooper, the very celebrated literary man and
author. The conversation turned on temperance, then
on the Slavery question, then on Theology, and at last
on the Bible and its Divine origin. Doubt was ex-
pressed as to the miracles recorded, when Dr. Cox
said, " There were miracles recorded in the Bible, but
not so many as some people supposed." He said that
CAUGHT BY HIS HEAD. 489
men would read so carelessly as to imagine a miracle
where none was recorded.
" Now," said he, " how did Absalom come by his
death?"
The reply was, " He was hung by the hair of his
head in the tree, and Joab slew him with darts "
" Where do you get that? "
" In the Bible."
" But the Bible does not say that he was caught by
the hair."
" I beg your pardon, but it does."
" I beg your pardon, but it does not."
A waiter was called.
"Bring us the Bible."
Dr. Cox, handing it to Mr. Cooper, said, " Find the
passage."
The verse containing the incident was found to be:
" And Absalom rode upon a mule, and the mule went
under the thick boughs of a great oak, and his head
caught hold of the oak, and he was taken up," &c.
(2 Sam. xviii. 9.)
"Now," said the Doctor, " there is not one word about
the hair. To be sure we read in another place that
he polled his head once a year, because his hair was
heavy, and from that, men judge that Absalom on the
field of battle rode bareheaded; his long hair floating,
so that in riding under the boughs of a tree he was
caught by the hair.
" Then," said he, " what fish swallowed Jonah? "
The reply was, " A whale."
"Not so," said the Doctor; and turning to the pas-
sage, he read : " And the Lord had prepared a great
fish to swallow Jonah," &c. (Jonah i. 17.)
"There! the Lord prepared that fish expressly for
490 NOT A WHALE.
that purpose. It was not a whale all naturalists
know that a whale could not swallow a man."
This interesting conversation continued for some
time, quite a group of interested listeners having gath-
ered round the talkers. Several illustrations were
given to show how carelessly many persons read the
Bible, and how strangely absurd are some of the quo-
tations.
But I must say I am grieved, and my heart grows
sad, at the efforts by good men to sustain the drinking
customs by the Bible. Our aim is to lead men to the
"Word of God, and to the Church of Christ. But
when such are told that they are all wrong, that total
abstinence is unscriptural, when the minister who
preaches the gospel, to which we commend them,
declares that it is fanaticism to abstain, that the Saviour
used wine, it seems to me like striking the knuckles
of some poor shipwrecked creature who is clinging to
the life-boat.
I will just say to the reformed man: When infidels
tell you that Jesus Christ made and drank an article
of which the Bible says, " Look not on the wine when
it is red," give no reply but this, " I do not believe it."
An infidel told me that Jesus made sixty gallons of
intoxicating wine for drinking when the whole com-
pany was drunk. All I could say was, " I do not be-
lieve it." When an infidel tells you that Jesus Christ
Was guilty of immorality, when He bade His disciples
all to drink that which is condemned in the Scriptures
as a " mocker," do not believe him. And when, which
is far worse in my estimation, a Christian minister or
editor, or professor, tells you that Jesus Christ was a
drinking man, a moderate drinker of intoxicating
wine; that He drank and commended that which the
DO NOT BELIEVE IT. 491
Bible declares " biteth like a serpent and stingeth like
an adder;" that He gave to others that of which the
Bible says, " Woe unto him that giveth his neighbor
drink; " that He made and used, and gave, to others,
that which is called the " wine of astonishment," the
wine through which " the priest and prophet have
erred " and " are out of the way, through which they
err in vision and stumble in judgment," through
which " all tables are full of vomit and filthiness, so
that there is no place clean ; " that which is called the
" poison of dragons," and the " cruel venom of asps ;"
that Jesus Christ, our Saviour, made and drank, and
gave to others, that which you cannot touch without
danger, tell them you do not believe it.
Do not attempt argument with them, for they will
laugh you to scorn for daring to attack them with
your limited education, and will overwhelm you with
tirosk, yayin, oinos, gleukos, and other words you do
not understand, and they will bring Oriental trav-
ellers, returned missionaries, Jewish rabbis, learned
men, to testify against you, still tell them you do
not believe it. There are men on the other side as
learned as they are, who deny their position altogether.
Let them bring all the travellers that have ever trav-
elled; all the missionaries that have ever returned; all
the Hebrew scholars that have ever lived; all the
Jewish rabbis, from the first to the present; and then
bring Paul and all the apostles, and all the prophets,
priests and kings, of whom we have any record in the
Bible, as evidence, let them pour out all their learn-
ing and knowledge of languages, answer them not
a word but that you do not believe it.
But do this: Carefully and prayerfully study the life
of Christ; His mission, His example, His infinite con-
492 NO! NO!
descension and love, His pity for the fallen, His going
about doing good, His sympathetic ministrations.
Study Him well, and you cannot believe that He who
taught you to pray " Lead us not into temptation,"
would commend to you that which is the great temp-
tation of your life, against which you fight day by
day, and to which, if you yield, you can never see His
face, but are banished with adulterers,' liars, and all
the wicked from His presence forever. "Will you, can
you believe that He sets you an example 3 7 0u cannot
follow? "Nol no! no! Then let us "stand up for
Jesus;" and notwithstanding all the attempts of any
ministers in His name to fix on Him the charge of
encouraging wine-bibbing by His example, and pre-
cept, let us lovingly, trusting Him and relying on
His grace, pursue the path of safety, confidently
believing that He approves our efforts to present our
" bodies a living sacrifice." This is my advice to any
reformed drunkard. Let others attempt to make good
this charge against Jesus as a moderate drinker of
alcoholic stimulants. Mix not up in what Dr. Fowler
calls " undistributed muddle." "We will let them fight
it out, while we thank Him for the total abstinence
that was the means of grace with His blessing by
which we have, as we trust, escaped as a bird out of
the snare of the fowler. I do not suppose that all
the Christian advocates of the intoxicating wine-
drinking of our Saviour mean to hinder the poor
reformed drunkard from adopting the safe principle,
but indirectly it is a hindrance, and a stumbling-block
to many.
I pray God that the time may come when the re-
formed drunkard may find a safe refuge in every
A REDEEMED OUTCAST. 493
church. It is a consolation that Christ often receives
those whom His church despises.
When I was in Indiana, at one time, a lady told me
that during a revival a poor outcast woman attempted
to enter the place of worship, and was rudely pushed
back, with a threat of calling the police. She sadly
turned her back on the door open for others, but
closed to her, and knelt down on the grass in the
yard of the church, and told Jesus, when He met her
and pardoned her. This lady furthermore told me
that she never witnessed such a death-scene as at the
bed-side of this poor redeemed outcast; it was glori-
ous, the exercise of simple faith in Him who
received her whom others rejected.
I gladly acknowledge that there are churches, and
many of them, who hold out the hand of friendship
and cordial sympathy for the reformed drunkard; but
there are too many where he can find no safe refuge,
where the preaching, the precept, and the example
are all against him.
CHAPTEK XXXY.
WAR WITH DRINK. TEMPERANCE ORGANIZATIONS.
WOMAN'S WORK AND INFLUENCE.
The National Temperance Society Women's Christian Temperance
Union The Blue and Red Ribbon Armies American Temperance
Society Growth of the Work Washingtonian Movement Grow-
ing Unpopularity of Washingtonianism Favorite Epithets "We
don't want any Religion in the Movement " Poor Tom Marshall
Danger to Reform Clubs Sympathy demanded for the Lost Give
the Reformed Man Work The Temperance Hall a Place of Safety
The Dirt and Discomforts of some so-called Temperance Hotels
Personal Experience The "Model" and "Central" Coffee Houses
of Philadelphia The Medical Question Rum by the Keg Physi-
cian giving Poison for Health Heroism and Fanaticism " Stand to
your Principle."
IME and space forbid more than an
allusion to the various organizations
now engaged in the work of enlighten-
ing the public mind in reference to the
great drink question, in efforts to ob-
tain legislative enactments, and the
circulation of temperance literature;
the Good Templars, the Sons of Temper-
ance, the Temples of Honor, and kindred
associations, all aiming at and working for the same
results.
One of the chief of these agencies is the National
494
WOMEN'S TEMPERANCE UNION. 495
Temperance Society and Publication House,* whose
principal object is the distribution of a sound and
reliable temperance literature. The last annual re-
port is a valuable document. In it the managers say
that the society has had in its business department
the most prosperous year of its existence, and that,
" while drinking and drunkenness may have increased
in some of our cities, the cause of temperance in the
country at large has never made as gratifying ad-
vances as during the years just ended, or stood as
well before the nation as it does to-day."
The Women's National Christian Temperance Union
was organized in November, 187-i. This society was
the direct outgrowth of the crusade, a most won-
derful work, which roused the whole people to a con-
sideration of the evils of drunkenness, creating an
interest such as the country had never seen since the
days of Washingtonianism, forty years ago. It has
had a marvellous growth and an amazing success.
Mrs. Wittenmyer's Handbook of the Women's Na-
tional Christian Temperance Union is a most interest-
ing and valuable document. I consider the Union to
be the most efficient organization in this country to-
day. I believe it has accomplished more permanent
good in the short period of its existence than any
other for forty years past. These Christian women
have worked among children in Juvenile Unions,
Bands of Hope, Sunday schools, and day schools.
" Much gospel work has been done outside the
churches, in cottage meetings, in halls, and on camp-
grounds." " Reform clubs have been organized, and
reformatory homes for women established, and in
every possible way that Christian women could work
* The offices of this society are at No. 58 Reade Street, New York.
496 GOSPEL TEMPERANCE.
the interests of the cause have been pressed all along
the line. And through it all continuous prayer has
been maintained; for wherever there is a Woman's
Temperance Union, there a consecrated band of Chris-
tian women meet to pray. Prayer is the vital breath
of this society, and the watchword is, l In God we
trust.' "
Springing from and growing out of this grand work
of the women, are the reform clubs, and the blue or
red ribbon armies, spreading all over this land, and
stretching across the Atlantic. Most of these organi-
zations are now effectually doing good service for the
cause of temperance.
We are in the habit of speaking of the "Gospel
Temperance Movement " as if it were some new thing.
The first effectual effort to stem the tide of intemper-
ance was made by Christian men. I would commend
to those who are desirous of knowing the inception
and development of the temperance reform, to read
the " History of the Temperance Movement," by Rev.
J. B. Dunn, D.D., which is embodied in the Centen-
nial Temperance volume, published by the National
Society. It is, in my opinion, the most clear, com-
pact, concise, and yet nearly exhaustive history that
has ever been written.
The American Temperance Society was formed in
1826. The pledge was, " Total abstinence from ardent
spirits." Who were the promoters and members of
that association? Christian men, such as Rev. Leon-
ard Woods, D.D., Rev. Justin Edwards, John Tap-
pan, S. Y. S. Wilder, Rev. Dr. Hewitt, Rev. William
Collier, Rev. E. W. Hooker, and Dr. Lyman Beecher,
who preached his six celebrated sermons that year.
In 1829, a day was set apart for fasting and prayer
WASHINGTONIANISM. 497
on account of intemperance. The New York State
society was organized; the Connecticut State society
was formed. The officers of the latter organization
were such men as Rev. Jeremiah Day, D.D., Presi-
dent of Yale College, and Rev. Calvin Chapin. And
so the cause grew and prospered, steadily increasing
in power with men like Dr. Mussey, Dr. Hosack, Dr.
Hitchcock, and Professor Wayland. In 1831, there
were societies in every State, except Maine, Alabama,
Louisiana, Illinois, and Missouri; until, in 1836, at a
convention in Saratoga, the total-abstinence pledge
from all intoxicating beverages was adopted, and has
been the recognized and only pledge for more than
forty years.
In 1840, the Washingtonian movement commenced.
Dr. Jewett said that at that time nineteen-twentieths
of the clergy were total abstainers. Washingtonian-
ism became popular. All other effort seemed to lose
its attraction, and truly it was a great work. Men
who had been hopeless drunkards reformed and be-
came public teachers. The spirit of the movement
was the gospel spirit of charity, kindness, and sym-
pathy for the suffering wrong-doer. The law of love
was the Washingtonian law. Soon faithful men who
had borne the heat and burden of the day, who had
endured persecution for truth's sake, were startled to
hear themselves called old fogies, slow, men who did
not understand the first principles of the reform.
Men became leading reformers who were not qualified
by experience, or training, or education, to lead, and
out of them a class sprung up who became dictato-
rial, and sometimes insolent. Irreligious men insulted
in some instances ministers of religion who had been
hard workers for temperance; reformed drunkards
498 MISTAKES OF REFORMERS.
sneered at those who had never been intemperate, as
if former degradation was the only qualification for
leadership.
I was a Washingtonian rescued by the spirit of
Washingtonianism, and testify of what I know in
saying that more than one minister of the gospel shut
the door of his church against some of these men,
because he could not sit still and hear in his own
pulpit, before his own people and the children of his
charge, such loose and sometimes vulgar utterances
as were occasionally heard. Any remonstrance was
construed at once into opposition to the cause itself,
rather than to their method.
All advocacy of law was denounced as opposed to
Washingtonianism, and many men who had been
prominent not only for their zeal in the temperance
cause, but also for their ability and Christian charac-
ter, were thrown into the background. I do not say
that this spirit was universal, but there was enough
of it to become an element of weakness which grew
into disease, and Washingtonianism as an ism passed
away; and now I hardly suppose there is a society
called by that name in the country, while in the palmy
days of the movement every town and village had its
society.
My firm belief then and now is that no moral move-
ment can live other than a brief spasmodic existence
that would wipe God out of it, and ignore or contend
against the Christian element. I have before me
two volumes of scraps collected from the temper-
ance papers of 1811 16. This was about the time
when some of the societies would have no members
but those who had been drunkards ; who would per-
mit no minister of the gospel to take any part in their
THE FIRST ATTACK. 499
exercises; who occupied the whole of the Sabbath-
day in meeting, relating experiences, and singing
songs that were occasionally objectionable. I give
from these papers a few extracts. After I had re-
turned from my first visit to the western part of Tew
York state, in company with Rev. John Marsh, I gave
an account of my tour. The following extracts are
from that speech in the Tremont Temple, taken from
the Mercantile Journal in August, 1844:
" He [Mr. Gough] stated that in some places he visited he was in-
formed by the leading Washingtonians that Washingtonianism, as an
ism, was dead; that it had done all it could, and the cause was now
falling back. The reason assigned for this was, that the people in these
places had become disgusted with the many follies dragged before the
public in connection with Washingtonianism, theatrical exhibitions, &c. ;
and what is most important, infidelity had attached itself to the car of
Washingtonianism, and impeded its progress by endeavoring to drag
itself into notice and standing in connection with it.
" To the dismay of thousands, men are found advancing Washingto-
nianism and infidelity at the same breath, and some presses in our country
are devoted to this object. Men of respectability and standing, men of
moral feeling, and old temperance men stand aloof from a cause shackled
with these evils, and call for a new order of things. They will not give
their influence until Washingtonianism has freed itself of these dead
weights, and stands forth in its original purity and beauty.
"He [Mr. Gough] said that in every place he visited there was a good
feeling existing towards the cause of temperance, but it needed to be
brought out and properly directed. . . .
" In one place there had not been a social Washingtonian meeting
held for eighteen months. Two of the leading men hi the cause endeav-
ored to raise funds to hire a hall to hold meetings. After canvassing the
town, upon comparing notes it was found one had obtained a dollar and
forty cents, and the other a dollar and ten cents. What was the cause
of this apathy, this backwardness? It was what he had already stated
the people were disgusted with the many follies and evils which had
attached themselves to the movement."
For these utterances I was subjected to an attack,
which being the first, wounded me sorely. In Octo-
ber I was thus severely called to account for mixing
orthodoxy with my temperance utterances :
500 NO RELIGION.
" We beg Mr. Gough to pause, ere he lends his powers to any secta-
rian use in the holy cause of temperance. He is a reformed man, and
has ample evidence in his own glorious experience of the all-conquering
power of the true Washingtonian principles, and motives innumerable
to lay before the poor inebriate in urging his reformation, without going
into the future world for them, motives connected with this life, with
the poor sufferer's own temporal well-being and happiness."
"Whenever I attempted to appeal to the drunkard
on the ground of sin against God, or men's responsi-
bility to God, or in view of future retribution, I was
either snubbed or soundly rated for introducing
"men's eternal interests, of which I knew nothing,"
&c. Some of the notices are quite amusing at this
late day, but at the time I felt them keenly. I quote
from the scraps before me:
" A religious bigot and ignoramus."
" Perverting the cause to sectarian ends."
" Dwelling on a set of motives which he knows never had an agency
in promoting this glorious reform."
These are specimens of the utterances of a portion
of the press devoted to the interests of Washingto-
nianism. I doubt if there are any of these papers in
existence now; I know not of one.
Mr. Mitchell, the originator of the movement, was
received in 1843 by the people of Boston. I have
given a description of that grand demonstration in
my Autobiography. I think there has been nothing
like it since. He went with me to Salem, and ex-
pressed himself very strongly against the introduc-
tion of anything religious, and said, " We don't want
any religion in the movement."
I heard the Hon. Thomas Marshall, of Kentucky,
make a ten minutes' speech in Broadway Tabernacle,
at the close of an address of mine, in which he said:
"Were this great globe one chrysolite, and I were
CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 501
offered the possession if I would drink one glass of
brandy, I would refuse it with scorn ; and I want no
religion, I want the temperance pledge." With that
wonderful voice of his he thundered out: "We want
no religion in this movement; let it be purely secular,
and keep religion where it belongs." Poor Tom
Marshall, with all his self-confidence, fell, and died
at Poughkeepsie in clothes given him by Christian
charity.
I know I shall not be for I cannot be misunder-
stood, if I say that in some of our reform clubs I see
a tendency to just such a practical repudiation of
divine help and assistance. I will make no specifica-
tions, except to say that I know some reform clubs
that sadly need reforming.
The results of Washingtonianism were grand; I
would not depreciate the work; and there were many
who labored faithfully and truly to the end of their
lives, like John Hawkins and others. But why should
not Washingtonianism be a power in this land now?
To be sure, the Blue-Ribbon and Red-Ribbon Armies
have sprung up in the country, and are doing im-
mense good. The principle of charity for the intem-
perate, pity that moves to help, sympathy that offers
the hand to lift up, are the same as in the other move-
ment; but when all this charity is Christian, when the
pity is Christ-like pity, when the sympathy is Christian
sympathy, there is the element of permanence; and I
believe that the element of decay is in the irreligious,
loose methods adopted by so many workers in the
earlier day. The temperance cause is not strictly a
religious enterprise; it is a secular movement; but
the religious element in it is the measure of its suc-
cess, and the absence of that element is its decay.
31
502 "DO NOT TURN ME OUT."
A very important fact not to be ignored is that the
drunkard, when he would reform, needs help, human
help, human practical sympathy. I have before me a
letter, sent by a very dear friend who is engaged in
evangelical work, enclosing another letter that he
received from a man redeemed from drink after a
course of intemperance and degradation. After de-
scribing his conversion, the reformed man says :
"And now, dear brother, you must pardon me if I add a word regard-
ing the duty of Christians toward those whom the Lord has saved from
that awful vice. There is a common belief amongst good people that a
reformed inebriate has to endure the scoffs and sneers of his former
associates, but that he is consoled and strengthened by the rallying
around him of Christian people. I have heard you say from the plat-
form, in exhorting the inebriate converts to go to work and do some-
thing useful, that they would see how the churches would rally around
them. Now you must pardon me for saying that all such talk involves a
double error : the former associates do not scoff, and the churches do not
rally. And my purpose in writing this letter is to implore you, in behalf
of that unfortunate class, to use your great influence with Christian
people, wherever you may be, to take those poor castaways by the hand
in a sense other than metaphorical.
" What they need is work, honest, useful work. See that they
have it. See that they have a chance, by hard and honest work in any
avocation for which they are qualified, to rear again on this fair earth
which belongs, not to Christians, as too many of them seem to think, but
to Christ the edifice of a noble character. I know you think this is
done ; but, believe me, it is not. Magnificent opportunities for worship
and for spiritual guidance are indeed afforded, and I thank God for it ;
but preaching was not the greatest need of the man who fell among
thieves : what he most needed was to have his wounds bound up, and be
taken to an inn."
A man during the first struggle with his enemy
needs a refuge, a place of safety. The poor fellow who
came into a temperance club-room very drunk, when
asked why he was there, said, " Do not turn me out.
I know I am drunk; but I have just signed the
pledge, and I came in here for safety." Therefore
with all my heart do I approve these refuges for the
SHAM TEMPERANCE HOUSES. 503
intemperate men, especially during the first few days
of their conflict. I am speaking of those who fight
against the terrible craving; for a man who has no
appetite to conquer needs no help. I do not mean
fashionable boarding-houses, where men can go as to
a hospital to be cured of a disease simply, but to a
home where he may find Christian sympathy, and be
led to the only source of refuge, where appeals are
made to his conscience, representing his drunkenness
not as a mere peccadillo that he may commit when he
will with no moral obliquity, but a sin against his
body and soul, and a sin against God.
The coffee-palace movement in England has been
productive of great good. I have no sympathy with
many places called " temperance houses," where they
charge as much for dirt and discomfort as you are
required to pay for cleanliness and comfort in any
other place ; trading on your principles, palming off
damaged goods upon you, and swindling in the sa-
cred name of Temperance. I have patronized these
houses until, becoming disgusted, and for the sake of
my health, I have been compelled to seek entertain-
ment at other houses, or stay in the street. I do not
pretend to say that all temperance houses are of this
base character, but many are, and have been a dis-
grace to the name, until among many good people
" Temperance House " has been only another name
for dirt, discomfort, and overcharging, with incivility.
There are first-class houses, kept by earnest and honest
men, that are a credit to the cause, and deserve our
patronage and recommendation.
These coffee-houses should be made as clean and
attractive as any of the gaudy liquor-shops. ~No
man cares to go for refreshments into a dark, dingy,
504 MODEL COFFEE-HOUSE.
unsavory place; and his temperance principles must
be very strong to induce him to pass by a place clean,
cheery, and bright, for one of those places, simply
because there is a sign hung out declaring it to be a
temperance saloon or refreshment-room.
I once went into one of these, decoyed by the sign-
board, and sat down at a table where the cloth looked
like a map of the United States, stained with mus-
tard, coffee, and grease, crumbs scattered all over it;
the place reminding you of Coleridge's description of
Cologne, in which he counted seventy-five distinct
smells. I called for a steak, and can hardly describe
the sights that met my eyes while that steak was in
preparation. First the bread was put on the table,
not a very attractive loaf; then some butter that had
been cut with a dirty knife. The steak, how can that
be described! It reminded you of the man who
refused to partake of a similar steak on the ground
that it was an infringement of Goody ear's patent for
India rubber. I asked for a cup of tea. It came,
reminding you again of the customer who said, " If
this is tea, I want coffee; if it is coffee, I want tea."
In the sugar a wet spoon had been so often dipped that
it had caked into little drops of discolored sweetness.
The spoon itself was sticky; and the whole affair was
so utterly destructive to all healthy appetite, that I
left as hungry as I entered.
These coffee-houses may be made very attractive,
like the " Model " and " Central " in Philadelphia, es-
tablished in 1874 by Joshua Bailey, Esq., and feeding
four thousand daily. This is a private enterprise, and
wholly sustained by Mr. Bailey. The " Model," for
completeness in its accommodations, has no superior
in the world. A company has been formed in New
AS A MEDICINE. 505
York, " The New York Coffee-House Company," and
one in Brooklyn, organized as the " Sailors' Coffee-
House and Reading-Room." These and similar es-
tablishments under the right superintendence may be
and will be of great service to the cause of reform.
The medical aspect of the temperance question has
been ably discussed by some of the first physicians
of the day, both in this country and on the continent
of Europe. So many works have been published on
the subject during the last few years, that I will sim-
ply say that I never use it as a medicine under any
circumstances whatever, and furthermore will employ
no doctor who is in the habit of constantly prescribing
alcoholic drinks.
Dr. Richardson gives his method of prescription in
his address to the medical profession. He says :
" As a therapeutical agent, I have never excluded alcohol from my
practice. But this is what I have done for nine years past: I have,
whenever I thought I wanted its assistance, prescribed it purely as a
chemical medicinal substance, in its pure form, in precise doses, in defi-
nite order of time. As I have prescribed amyl nitrite, or chloroform, or
ether, so I have prescribed alcohol.
" By this method I have an absolute experience of the clinical use of
alcohol, which, I think I may safely say, does not belong to many other
prescribing physicians. There are thousands of physicians who, in the
same time, have probably prescribed alcoholic fluids a hundred times to
my single time ; but if they were to be asked the precise doses they have
ordered, the actual purity of the substances they have ordered, they
would be quite unable, in most cases, to answer at all. So many ounces
of wine, so many ounces of brandy or whiskey, really means nothing at
all that is reliable. Therefore an absolute experience of alcohol, and
that only, is a novelty."
But I know there are physicians who prescribe it
by the keg; that is, the patient is ordered to provide
himself with a keg, or so many dozen bottles of ale,
and take a glass when he feels a sinking, &c. I am
of Dr. Richardson's opinion, that a physician before
506 PRINCIPLE A RULE OF LIFE.
all other men should be straight and square in his
testimony against drunkenness and that which pro-
duces it. I quote again from him:
" A doctor whose example turns the scale ever so little toward intem-
perance ; a doctor who treats this question as a joke ; the doctor, more-
over, who devotes his energies to his calling of saving life, and who, with
forty thousand of his fellow country-folk dying yeai-ly around him from
one cause, and who toward that cause exhibits indifference, or careless-
ness, or apathy, what pretensions has he to be a healer? Where is his
honor, to say no word of his feeling? What if some other great cause
of mortality say, of consumption were at work, slaying its thou-
sands annually, and that cause were as well known to him as this cause,
would he toward that be equally indifferent? Would he hand it about,
partake of it himself, give it to his children, laugh at those who are
wearying to sweep it away, or tell the afflicted from it that it is a neces-
sity? I am sure he would scorn to do any such thing."
I leave the question to medical and scientific men,
only advising my reformed friend never to take it as
a medicine. Die rather than run the risk of being
ensnared by the deceiver that so nearly destroyed
you. There is no physician who will or does pre-
scribe it for me; they know I will not take such a
prescription; and when they know you will not take
it, they will cease to prescribe it for you.
The principle of total abstinence, taking the word
principle to mean a rule of life, should be to us a
reality, not to be laid down or taken up at the dictates
of custom, fashion, habit, or craving, but to be held
as a sacred rule to be observed always and at all
hazards. Let the opposers call us fanatics. We are
in good company. Canon Wilberforce says: "lam
a fanatic on this question of drink." Shall we not be
willing to suffer for the sake of the interests of the
cause to which we owe so much? Let no physician
drive or coax us from our position. Let it be for us
reformed men an impregnable one.
ENTHUSIASM, NOT FRENZY. 507
In a Scotch town last year I was suffering fearfully
with neuralgia. It seemed as though fingers of fire
were feeling for every nerve in my face, and I could
not forbear crying out with the severe pain. A gen-
tleman asked me if I would take a glass of brandy
if I knew it would afford relief. When I said no, he
told me I was a fanatic. How easy it is to use a term
for reproach! Many a man has been frightened from
a good work at the cry of fanaticism. They mistake
enthusiasm for frenzy. If a man dies in defence of
his country's flag, even in an unrighteous war, men
call him a hero; if a man dies for a principle, he is a
fanatic. Let me tell those who would sneer at us for
our consistency, that it often requires more courage
to endure the sneers of companions, the pitying shake
of the head from friends, and the expressed contempt
of society, than to face the cannon's mouth on the
field of battle. Many a man would mount the " immi-
nent deadly breach," rather than face the " slow-moving
finger of scorn." So I say to my reformed brethren :
Stand to your principle. If you make it the rule of
your life to abstain, stand to it, suffer for it, and if
need be die for it; and may God help us all that we
fall not back into the bondage that so many call free-
dom, and are deceived thereby.
CHAPTEK XXXVI.
STRIKING EXPERIENCES.
Compensations of Old Age This Young Man The Old Warrior
Amusing Peculiarities of Public Life The Liverpool Barber " 'Enery,
sweep up this 'Air " Great Changes Reforms Improvements
Children are Forces An Important Question Casket and Jewel
Testimonial presented Boys' Work Twenty-five Years ago The
Results Drunkard's Child " My Little Testament " Testament
sold for Whiskey " God be merciful! " " Evil Habits " Custom
and Habit No Man lost on a Straight Road A Good Resolution
Miller.
LD age has been described as a " pecu-
liarly wretched state," nothing attrac-
tive in its appearance, and in the reality
only an evil. Even Shakspeare could
not avoid admitting its drawbacks:
' When thou art old and rich
Thou hast neither heart, affection, limb, nor beauty,
To make thy riches pleasure."
The inconveniences of old age are manifold. Old
age cannot be cured, but the necessary consequences
may be alleviated. There may be many glorious com-
pensations to those advanced in years. To the young,
old age and failing strength appear to be an unmiti-
gated evil. When I was a boy of twelve, or even a
man of twenty-one, I looked upon fifty years of life
as I now look upon one hundred; always having a
dread of living to be old, associating decrepitude with
508
"WELL, OLD MAN." 509
age. Now, at sixty-three, I suffer no sensible diminu-
tion of strength, except in a lessening of the ability
for active exertion. I remember the first time I was
called an old man. Some years since, I was travel-
ling through Boston to the sea-side, with some of my
family, and, while I was looking earnestly at a valise
I was not quite sure of, a man who was taking the
luggage from the car called out, "Well, old man,
what are you looking after? " It sounded queer then,
but I am used to it now.
It is quite amusing to look over the earlier notices
of my personal appearance; and it seems so short a
time since I was spoken of as a young man. " This
young man with dark hair; " " This pale, thin young
man, looking so attenuated that a tolerably persever-
ing gust of wind would have no difficulty in puffing him
to any required part of the compass." Now, I read
of "the venerable speaker," "the veteran," "the old
warrior," &c. At first I was not pleased at these
public reminders of age, or at the constant remarks
by persons of no tact: " Ah, age is telling on you! "
" You are not as young as you were ! " " You are
getting old ! " " How very gray you are getting ! " &c.
Though why I should object, is a mystery, for it is
my own fault if my gray hairs are not honorable. Yet
we do shrink from free remarks about our personal ap-
pearance, and especially from personal depreciation.
I remember going from Brooklyn to Flushing, L.
I., with a party of friends, many years since. I was
to deliver a lecture there. We were somewhat de-
layed ; and when we arrived, the audience had assem-
bled. I sat for a few minutes on the pulpit-stairs
waiting for the committee, but none appearing I went
into the desk, and without introduction began my
510 "LIKE A SIEGED CAT."
speech. After I had concluded, a man who had
looked at me rather curiously from the first moment
of my arrival till the end of my discourse, came up
to me as I descended the stairs, and holding out his
hand, said:
" Well, you are very much like a singed cat ! "
Having never before heard that the expression,
" singed cat," was used to denote a person who was
better than he looked, I was slightly nettled, and asked
one of my friends who reminded me of the fact the
other day why that man should say I was like a
" singed cat," and whether he meant it as an offence.
One of the amusing peculiarities of public life is
in the remarks so freely uttered and frequently over-
heard.
The last day of my first visit to England I was in
Liverpool. I had spoken the evening before, and was
to give my farewell speech that evening. In the
course of the day I went into a barber's shop. While
the " professor of tonsure," as I saw it announced the
other day, was practising on my hair, he began to
speak of the plentiful harvest in America. I said:
" I sail for America to-morrow."
" Ah, indeed, sir ! You will have as a fellow-pas-
senger John B. Grough."
"Does he sail to-morrow?"
" Yes ; and I have a ticket to hear him to-night."
" Have you ever heard him lecture? "
"No, sir; have you?"
"Yes."
"How do you like him?"
" I do not think much of him."
" Then you are not a teetotaler? "
"Yes, lam."
SOME PUZZLING QUESTIONS. 511
"I wonder you do not like Mr. Gough."
" I said I did not think much of him, not that I did
not like him."
" Ah, that's very much the same thing ! What sort
of an appearing person is he? "
" A very ordinary-looking person."
" It is plain to see that you do not like him. "What
might be his size, sir?"
" About my size, I judge."
" Have you heard him more than once? "
" Yes, many times."
" I should hardly think you would go so often to
hear him, if you do not like him."
" I never said I did not like him."
" I beg your pardon, sir, but do you know him? "
" Tolerably well."
" Shall you hear him speak this evening?"
" Yes, I expect to do so."
" Did you hear him last evening? "
"Yes."
" I have been quite desirous of hearing him, and I
have secured my ticket. Does your 'air suit you,
sir? Shall I put some hoil on it? "
" No, I thank you, it will do very well ; and you
will have the opportunity of studying your work on
the platform, for you have been cutting Mr. Gough's
hair."
" Bless my soul, sir ! I beg your pardon. I 'ope
I 'ave not said anything wrong, or been in hanny way
disrespectful."
" Oh no; on the contrary, you have been quite com-
plimentary."
" So you are Mr. Gongh. I shall 'ear you to-night.
'Enery, sweep up all this 'air, and take care of it.
512 EVIDENCES OF PROGRESS.
Good-bye, sir. I am glad I 'ave 'ad the hopportunity
and the honor of cutting your 'air."
As I contemplate the past, how much there is to fill
the thought and stir the pulses in view of the wonderful
progress in all directions, and the great changes that
have taken place since my remembrance, and even
since my first entry on public life.
In 1842, Louis Philippe was king of the French.
In 1848 came the Republic, growing into the Empire.
Again, in 1871, after the Commune, came the Repub-
lic, routing the Empire. Four great wars have agi-
tated Europe: the Crimean, the Italian, the Franco-
German, and the war of Russia with Turkey. In
1857, the great Indian mutiny startled the world. In
1847 occurred the war of the United States with
Mexico, and in 1861 commenced the war for the
Union.
What great reforms have been inaugurated in the
past forty years ! In nearly all the civilized portions
of the globe, from Japan to christianized Madagascar,
from India to our own free country, the battle is going
on, and the fight becomes more earnest. Glance
rapidly over the world and see. The United States
has given freedom to her slaves; Russia has eman-
cipated her millions of serfs. Germany is fighting
the double battle in sight of the world, with a keen,
relentless, moral despotism on the one hand, and on
the other the struggle between the license of mate-
rialism and the freedom that walks in steadfast obe-
dience to Divine law. Italy, instead of being a nest
of petty states, united only in dense ignorance and
abject slavery, now walks among the nations, free to
drain her stagnant moral marshes; free to say to all
her people, " Rise, for thy light has come." France
QUEEN OF MADAGASCAR. 515
has made leap after leap for civil and political free-
dom and equal rights; and though not yet landed on
the safe side, still her dissatisfactions are noble, and
inspire the world with sympathy toward her struggles.
England is bravely grappling with internal problems,
and burden after burden is being lifted from the
shoulders of her people. Turkey is being pierced
with loopholes for light. Egypt tolerates Christian
schools. Spain has seen the Inquisition crumble.
China's emperor is moving to prevent opium from
paralyzing his millions of subjects. Japan asks of
the United States teachers of schools after the method
of to-day, and takes the Christian Sabbath for her
Sabbath; all this when her ports with one exception
were barred against the commerce of the world at the
opening of this century. Hear the proclamation of
the queen of Madagascar, where till recently heathen-
ism reigned supreme, with savage cruelties and per-
secutions to the death of all who dared avow the
Christian name:
" I, Ranovalomajaka, by the grace of God, and the
will of my people, Queen of Madagascar, defender
of the laws of my kingdom, this is what I say to you,
my subjects: God has given me this land and king-
dom; and concerning the rum, you and I have agreed
it shall not be sold, because it does harm to your per-
sons, to your wives and children; makes foolish the
wise, makes more foolish the foolish, and causes
people not to fear the laws of the kingdom, and
especially makes them guilty before God."
After encouraging the people to trade in good
things, the queen declares:
" I am not ashamed to make laws in my kingdom
which shall do you good; therefore, I tell you if
514 "WHAT SHALL IT BE?"
there are people who break my law, I must punish
them."
Christian associations now flourish in the Fiji
Islands, where cannibalism reigned supreme forty
years ago. India and Siam and Persia are saying,
through thousands of now Christian voices, "The
entrance of Thy words giveth light." And the
islands of the sea are flocking to the standard of
liberty and Bible light, as doves come to their
windows.
In that which tends to personal comfort and na-
tional advancement, more has been accomplished, and
grander achievements have been realized in this cen-
tury, than in all the previous lifetime of our race.
Since my entrance into public life, the changes have
been wonderful. The improvements in the modes of
locomotion and communication are amazing. Pho-
tography, chloroform, the electric telegraph, sewing-
machines, telephones, and many inventions strange
and curious at the beginning, now rank among the
necessities of our present mode of life.
We are almost bewildered as we look back on the
past; and, seeking to penetrate the future, we ask,
" What shall it be when the present generation has
passed away?" How important it is that those who
are to fill our places should feel the responsibility
that all this light and development devolves on them!
They must reap as they sow, and in the far future
will be garnered the harvest of their sowing.
To me a company of children is a most impressive
and suggestive sight. The little creatures are forces
in the world for good or evil ; for none can possibly
be neutral in the contest of the ages, of right
against wrong, of truth against falsehood, of Christ
TRUE PROPAGANDISTS. 515
against Belial, the kingdom of this world arrayed
against the kingdom of our God and of His Christ.
With all my heart I rejoice and take courage in view
of the fact that a revival of the temperance work
among children is taking place. At three important
Sunday-school conventions it has been accorded a
prominent place, and I have been privileged to speak
on these occasions. At the experiment at Framing-
ham this year, in imitation of the very successful
Chautauqua conventions, there was a temperance 'day.
From England, Dr. B. W. Richardson writes, in a
letter I lately received from him:
"Our cause is still making good progress. The
young are getting more and more imbued, and they
are the propagandists of the true stamp."
Here the question comes to me, What is the most
valuable thing that has ever challenged my attention
in these thirty-eight years of contact with life ?
What now seems the most precious occupation for
the most choicely endowed men and women of this
day and time? Who that takes this thought in mind
from any altitude can give any other answer than
this, that the children of this land are beyond all
comparison the forces that should be first and last
considered in all national, patriotic, municipal, family,
and individual aspirations and plans? All the educa-
tional institutions, all legislative enactments, all social
customs, every adult example, often the unstudied
sentence, touches with beauty or blight this fairest
thing in all creation, this most powerful influence,
this subtlest and most glorious force, this indestruc-
tible life, a little child. Casket and jewel, both so
exquisitely formed, having such possibilities of light,
fire, attraction, nothing on earth can equal it. And
516 SAVE THE CHILDREN.
yet this lovely gift to the world is left, in thousands
of cases, to be bent and warped arid jostled into the
ugliest and most dangerous forms, corroded by at-
mospheres that eat into all its promising outlines,
while those who are called by every high motive to
reverse all these conditions are using up their lives in
scrambling for things which, when obtained, shall
bring no satisfaction to themselves nor benefit to
others.
It seems to me no occupation can be so important
or require such choice qualities as the care and guid-
ance of children, and that it should be reckoned
among the most honorable of the professions; and
that the brain, mind, and heart of the truest, noblest,
and most conscientious toward God and man should
be the elected ones to guide into the best possibili-
ties the children. I can desire nothing better for
this great country, growing with such startling rapid-
ity, than that a barrier high and strong should be
raised between the unpolluted lips of the children
and the intoxicating cup; that everywhere the men
and women of to-day should raise strong and deter-
mined hands against whatever will defile the body,
pollute the mind, or harden the heart against God
and His truth, of the millions of children in this
country. God grant we may none of us forget
who it is that has said, "It were better that a
millstone were hanged about his neck and he were
drowned in the depths of the sea," than that he
should be a means of " offence " to " one of these
little ones."
We often underrate the capacity of children to
work, to be of service in any great movement; and
yet what great results have been accomplished by the
A PLEASANT EPISODE. 517
simple but earnest work and influence of the young!
As an instance of* what may be done by the hearty
and combined efforts of young people, I would relate
a very pleasant episode in my last experience in
London.
At a meeting held in the Congregational chapel,
Victoria Park, May 12, 1879, a very beautiful, and
elegantly engrossed and ornamental testimonial was
presented to me with the following inscription :
"Tnis TESTIMONIAL
WAS PRESENTED
ON THE 12TH OF MAY, 1879,
TO
MR. JOHN B. GOUGH,
TEMPERANCE ADVOCATE OF AMERICA,
on the occasion of his visiting Bonner's Fields to give an oration at a
chapel erected on the very spot where, some twenty years since, a num-
ber of youths, inspired by various anecdotes of what good the young
may accomplish, told in their hearing by Mr. Gough, in Exeter Hall and
elsewhere, were led to hold open-air meetings, which resulted in the for-
mation, at Bonner's Lane, Bethnal Green, of the Twig Folly Christian
Temperance Society and Band of Hope, which has produced great good
to the neighborhood, and brought out many earnest laborers for the cause
of temperance, who are still at work, not only in the metropolis, but in
the country also. As one of the results of your earnest temperance ad-
vocacy in London, this may be an interesting and encouraging reminis-
cence during your future labors, which we hope, under God's blessing,
will be continued to be as useful as heretofore. ... As a grateful ac-
knoAvledgment of your many services in the cause, the youths above
referred to, and the older laborers in the temperance ranks, who helped
them in their early efforts, beg you to accept their portraits and signa-
tures."
Fourteen finely executed photographs surround the
inscription, and the whole is most superbly designed
and executed.
These gentlemen, when boys, determined to do
what they could for the cause which had interested
them, and for a beginning of their effort instituted a
32
518 A CHILD'S INFLUENCE.
series of out-door meetings in Bonner's Fields, obtain-
ing speakers from older societies. This led to the
formation of a society which grew rapidly in influence.
Branch societies were formed. The parent society
now numbers seven hundred members, and their aux-
iliaries number thousands ; and on the spot where they
held their first feeble meetings the chapel is erected
in which I spoke, when Sir Charles Reed presided and
the testimonial was presented. So much for the efforts
of boys when determined and encouraged.
The quiet influence of a child has been the means
of saving the parent. I remember a little history re-
lated to me many years ago by a Christian abstainer.
He said he would give me the facts that led to his
reform, and the circumstance that arrested him in his
career of sin.
Two maiden ladies who lived in the village, often
noticed a scantily clad girl passing their house with a
tin pail. On one occasion one of these ladies accosted
her.
" Little girl, what have you got in that pail?"
" Whiskey, ma'am."
"Where do you live?"
" Down in the hollow."
" I'll go home with you."
They soon came to a wretched hovel in the hollow,
outside the village. A pale, jaded, worn-out woman
met them at the door. Inside was a man, dirty, maud-
lin, and offensive. The lady addressing the woman,
said:
'"Is this your little girl?"
"Yes."
" Does she go to school? "
" No; she has no other clothes than what you see."
"MY LITTLE TESTAMENT." 519
"Does she go to Sunday school?"
" Sunday school in these rags ! Oh, no ! "
" If I furnish her with suitable clothes, can she
go?"
" It is of no use giving her clothes. He would steal
them, and sell them for whiskey. Better let the girl
alone ; there is no hope for her, or for us."
" But she ought to go to school." 9
An arrangement was entered into whereby the
child should call at the lady's house on Sunday morn-
ing, be clothed for the school, and after the school was
dismissed, call again, and change her garments for
home.
The little creature was very teachable, and soon be-
came a favorite with her teacher, who gave her a little
Testament, probably the first gift the child had ever
received. She was very proud of her Testament, ex-
hibiting it on all occasions with the delighted excla-
mation :
" That's my little Testament my own."
She would take it with her at night, clasping it in
her hands till she fell asleep on the wretched rags
called a bed. The child was taken ill. The doctor
provided by her benefactors declared she would die.
Her friends furnished her with what comforts they
could, and watched the father, lest he should steal
them and sell them for whiskey.
The gentleman then continued the narrative in the
first person:
" One day I went to her bedside. I was mad for
drink. I had taken everything I could lay my hands
oi>. I looked round the room. There was nothing
left, nothing I could dispose of. Yet I must have
drink. I would have sold my child; I would have
520 "WHAT SHALL i TELL HIM?"
sold myself, for whiskey. The little creature lay on
the bed, with the Testament clasped in her hand,
partly dozing. As I sat there she fell asleep, and the
book slipped from her fingers, and lay on the coverlid
of the bed. Stealthily looking round the room, I
stretched out my shaking hand, seized the Testament,
and hastily thrust it into my bosom. I soon sneaked
out, li^e a guilty thing, to the grog-shop. All I could
get for it was half a pint of whiskey. It was a poor
little book. I drank the Devil's drink almost at a
draught, and soon felt relieved from the burning
thirst. The stagnant blood in the diseased vessels of
my stomach was stimulated by the fiery fluid, and I
felt better. What took me back to my child I cannot
tell, but I sat again by her side. She still seemed to
be sleeping; and I sat there with the horrible craving
stayed for the time by the whiskey I had drank, when
she opened her eyes slowly and saw me. Reaching
out her hand to touch mine, she said, ' Papa, listen.
I'm going to die, and when I die I shall go to Jesus;
for He told little children to come to Him. And I
shall go to heaven; for He said that little children
were of the kingdom of heaven. I learned that out
of my Testament. Papa, suppose when I go to
heaven Jesus should ask me what you did with my
little Testament. Oh, papa! oh, papa! what shall I
tell Him?' It struck me like lightning. I sat a few
moments, and then fell down on my knees by the bed-
side of my child, crying, ( God be merciful to me, a
sinner.' That half-pint of whiskey was the last drop
of intoxicating liquor that has passed my lips. She
died in a few days, with her hand in mine, and ber
last words to me were, 'Papa, we shall both go to
Jesus now.' "
FORCE OF HABIT. 523
May Heaven bless the dear children! We need
them as workers, and we must remember that drunk-
enness would die out with the present race of the
intemperate, death alone would remove the evil in
thirty years, were there no more drunkards made.
There is no necessity for the existence of this curse
to the world. But while men and women use intoxi-
cating liquors as a beverage, drunkenness will con-
tinue. All past experience testifies to this. Therefore
our great hope is in training the children understand-
ingly to abstain from the use of an article which at
the best can be but a luxury, and never a necessity as
a beverage. I am exceedingly glad that public atten-
tion is drawn to these facts, and we have hope for the
future.
What I said in the beginning of this book I repeat
now: "Man is in a great degree the arbiter of his
own destiny." We can make ourselves what we will.
Byron said, " I am convinced that men do more harm
to themselves than ever the Devil can do to them."
To the young I would say, Beware of the formation
of evil habits; remember habit is acquired. What
we are accustomed to do gives a facility and prone-
ness to do. " How shall ye do good who are ac-
customed to do evil? " Archbishop Whately says,
" Habits are formed not at one stroke, but gradually
and insensibly; so that, unless vigilant care be em-
ployed, a great change may come over the character
without our being conscious of any." Dr. Johnson
says, " The diminutive chains of habit are seldom
heavy enough to be felt till they are too strong to be
broken." Again, Archbishop Whately makes this
distinction between custom and habit: "Repeated
acts constitute the custom, and habit is the condition
524 NONE LOST ON A STRAIGHT ROAD.
of mind or body thence resulting." Thus the custom
of drinking produces the habit of craving, and, that
yielded to, the habit of drunkenness. "By accus-
toming ourselves to any course of action we acquire
an aptness to go on, a facility, a readiness, and often
a pleasure in it; our aversion grows weaker, the diffi-
culties lessen, and a new character, in many respects
and habits of life not given by nature, may be formed."
Acts repeated, like a cable formed by the repetition
of twisted threads, soon consolidate into habits that
form a second nature. The power of habit to con-
solidate virtuous character is illustrated in the in-
creasing stability of every good man, the sentiment
of whose heart becomes like that of the Psalmist,
"I hate vain thoughts, but Thy law do I love;"
while its almost invincible power for evil is illustrated
in the increasing depravity of sin. " They encourage
themselves in an evil matter; they search out iniqui-
ties ; they accomplish a diligent search." " He hath
left off to be wise, and to do good; he deviseth mis-
chief on his bed." If every act tends to the forma-
tion of habit, and every habit goes to form character
and render it unalterable, who can calculate the inter-
minable consequences attached to every voluntary act?
A friend of mine once said that this motto should
be written over the door of every young man's cham-
ber : " ~No man was ever yet lost on a straight road."
As we look back on our own experience, we realize
how wide a course of wrong doing and thinking orig-
inated in one step from the rough road of duty to the
smooth path of inclination. Could we have always
been on our guard, what mortifications, regrets, hu-
miliations, and sufferings would have been spared us!
Have you by thoughtlessness or recklessness acquired
A WIRE HOLDS YOU. 525
habits that are a hindrance to your prosperity, de-
structive to your peace, and under the bondage of
which you groan? Remember, if you would ever be
free, it will be easier to-day ' to break your fetters
than it ever will be again in this world; for habit
strengthens with age. It is hard and painful to up-
root an old habit; it is harder to unlearn than it is to
learn. It is easier to break the single thread than the
strong cord. The difficulty is, the thread seems so
small you can break it when you will, and with ease.
Try it, and you will be surprised at the effort needed.
A wire around your little finger, securely fastened to
a pillar, holds you as certainly as an iron band with
copper rivets. If you are held, it matters not how
small or large the agent seems to be; it holds you.
A good resolution faithfully kept has saved many a
man. When Hugh Miller was a stone-mason, it is
stated that he drank at one time, in company with
several of his fellow- workmen, two glasses of whiskey.
On reaching home, he took up Bacon's Essays, and
found the letters dance before his eyes, and he could
not master the sense, when he said, " In that hour I
determined that I would never sacrifice my capacity
for intellectual enjoyment to a drinking usage, and by
the help of God I was able to keep my resolution."
CHAPTER XXXYH.
LAST GLEANINGS.
My First Visit to the Theatre Booth and Hamblin " Apostate," and
" Review " The Old Bowery My Passion for the Stage Interview
with a Manager Comic Song at the Chatham Persevering Efforts
to be an Actor The Summit of Ambition The Old Lion of Boston
Charles Thorn Charles Eaton " Roll him in and tap him "
Tinsel and Sham My Disenchantment Thanks that my Way was
blocked Power to overcome Coleridge A Good Impulse
" Art thee crazy, Lad? " The First Sermon Paying Debts like a
Christian The Last Race Retrospection Contrasts Lessons
learned Encouragements Last Words.
ANY of us, in looking back on our
experiences of fifty years of life,
must recall some instances of mer-
ciful interposition, when our own
will, purpose, and determination have
been set aside by an unseen but
powerfully-felt agency, and we, with
our will and purpose set, have been
compelled to take an entirely opposite
course from that we had planned, or have been mys-
teriously, or I would rather say providentially, hin-
dered from carrying out our determined plans.
When quite a young man, I had an intense desire,
almost amounting to a passion, to adopt the theatrical
profession. I was fascinated by the theatre, stage-
struck, enamored of all dramatic representation.
526
FASCINATED BY THE STAGE. 527
I shall never forget the sensation on my first visit
to the theatre. It was the Old Bowery. The play
was " The Apostate : " Mr. Booth the elder as Pes-
cara, Mr. Hamblin, the manager, as Hemeya, and
Miss Vincent as Florinda. The after-piece was
"The Review; or, The "Wags of "Windsor:" Mr.
Booth as John Lump, Mr. Hamblin as Looney Me-
Twolter. Between the tragedy and the farce, Rice
jumped Jim Crow, I cried and laughed. I was
thrilled by the tragedy and convulsed by the farce.
It was a new world. How beautiful were the women !
how noble were the men ! Even Pescara, as his eyes
flashed with malignant hate, was like a creature above
the mere human. The gorgeous dresses, the music
and lights dazzled me. I went home to my lodgings
fascinated, carried out of myself. How mean and
poor was my little bedroom, and what a dreary mo-
notony of life mine was, plodding in a shop to learn a
trade ! Trade, profession, occupation, business, all
was tame, slow, grovelling, compared with the glori-
ous, the grand, the bewildering pursuit of the actor.
Again and again I enjoyed the delicious enchantment,
and fully determined that I must be an actor, I
must strut my hour upon the stage. I envied the
poor stick who came on to remove the tables and
chairs, the poor, despised supe; even the doorkeeper
was an object of interest. Yes, I was smitten.
With what awe and reverence would we stage-
struck boys watch some celebrated actor in the
streets. It was an event worth recording. " I saw
Forrest to-day." "I saw Booth to-day." I have
even followed them and set my foot on the same
stones they had trodden. Remember I was but six-
teen years of age. These boys had each their
528 THE DRAMATIC SOCIETY.
favorite actress, for whom they would fight; ay, and
throw down the gauntlet to all comers in her defence.
How we would crowd around the stage-door to see
some actor or actress pass out or in ! Madame Celeste
was a great favorite ; we were never weary of singing
her praises or witnessing her performance. I should
hesitate to say how many times I had seen her in
" The French Spy."
To some persons all this may appear strange. They
cannot conceive the attraction of all the stage para-
phernalia and the glamour thrown round certain
minds by the glitter and unreality of the stage.
I have been often asked why I did not adopt the
stage as a profession. It was not from lack of
desire, though I do not pretend that I possessed the
ability to become an actor of repute. "Why I did not,
after all my attempts, I cannot tell, but that I was
hindered, blocked in every direction, to my sore vexa-
tion.
I will not write here how the desire took full pos-
session of me, and rendered me for a time almost
useless. I know it led me to neglect the duty that
lay before me. I eagerly devoured any plays that I
could lay hold of; learned parts. I could repeat and
spout Jaffier, in " Venice Preserved." From tragedy
to comedy; from farce to melodrama. I even con-
templated writing a play. I have carried a tattered
play-book surreptitiously to my work-bench, and
learned the whole play while at my work, and then
would mouth it and tear it to pieces in the most
extravagant theatrical style. I joined a dramatic
society. I played Zanga, in the "Revenge;" the
Doctor, in the "Duenna;" Jeremy Diddler, in the
"Raising the Wind," and some other minor parts;
"I WANT TO BE AN ACTOR." 529
but my resources were so limited I was compelled to
give up tlje dramatic society. Yet all my available
funds were expended on theatre tickets.
One day I determined to make a desperate effort
for a footing on the stage ; and, getting excused from
the shop for a day, I ventured to enter the box-office
of the Bowery Theatre and inquire for Mr. Hamblin.
I was told that he was on the stage, and that I could
see him by applying at the stage-door. So to the
stage-door I went, and for the first time I stood behind
the scenes. A drearier place I had seldom seen, but
my ardor was not damped by the contrast to all the
glory I had connected with the stage. When the
gentleman appeared, I was fearfully embarrassed, but
gathered courage to ask if he wanted an actor. "With
a smile, he asked me several questions, such as what
parts I had studied, what line of business I desired,
what I considered myself fit for. I gave such an-
swers as my confusion would allow, and at last
blurted out: "I want to be an actor. If you will
engage me, I \vill do anything; black your boots, run
your errands, be your servant." He checked me by
asking what my business was. I told him, " book-
binding;" when he said, "Ah, young man, you had
better stick to bookbinding," and turned his back on
me. Though rebuffed, I was not discouraged, but
determined to persevere.
I then applied to William Sefton, of the Chatham
Theatre, for permission to sing a comic song between
the pieces. The permission was granted, with a note
to the leader of the orchestra to rehearse with me;
and under the name of Gilbert, I sang the " Water
Party," and actually obtained a generous encore. I
remember that night the play was the "Golden
530 SUMMIT OF AMBITION.
Farmer," John Sefton as Jimmy Twitcher. The
actors were all dressed for their respective parts, and
they encouraged me. The stage-manager said I had
done very well, but no engagement followed.
Soon after, I left New York, and for awhile I
worked in Providence, where I became acquainted
with some gentlemen attached to the theatre, lost a
good situation through neglect of my duties and a
fascination for the stage, and through the influ-
ence of a Mr. Barry obtained an engagement at the
Lion Theatre, Boston. Surely I am now at the sum-
mit of my ambition a permanent engagement on
the staff of artists at a regular theatre. Before, it
had been an occasional appearance to fill up a gap at
a temporary place of entertainment. Alas! I found
the gold to be tinsel. Here I acquired a thorough
distaste for all theatrical representations, and all the
genius and intellect displayed by the most famous
actor has not, and never can, reconcile me to the
sham, the tinsel crowns, the pasteboard goblets, the
tin armor, the paltry spangles, cotton for velvet, all
make-believe, the combats, and the sham blood. Even
the nightly disguise became an annoyance; the paint-
ing the face, corking the eyebrows, pencilling the
wrinkles, the doing up with false whiskers, hair,
moustache, the French chalk, the rouge, the burnt
cork, to say nothing of the habiliments, rendered the
whole thing at the last odious to me; and I never felt
meaner, or had less self-respect, than when I was be-
dizened to do some character. How men of ability
and common sense can submit to this caricaturing
night after night, passes my poor comprehension.
In that theatre I found some men of education in
the higher walks of the profession; but, oh, the dis-
"TAKEN AN OLD CASK/' 531
enchantment! The beautiful women were, some of
them, coarse and profane; the noble gentlemen often
mean, tricky, and sponging. In fact, the unreality of
it, the terrible temptation to the lower forms of vice,
especially to those of the nervous, excitable tempera-
ment, increased by the falsehood and fiction involved
in their profession, in seeming to be what they never
were or could be, studying virtue to represent it on
the stage, while their lives were wholly vicious, re-
pelled me. Mark me well, I do not say this of all
actors. I only speak of the special temptations of
this special profession.
The Lion Theatre company was selected for a
short season. There were some good actors. Charles
Thorn was stage-manager. There was Chapman,
J. K. Hall, and others I might name ; one especially,
Charles Eaton, a graduate of one of our principal
colleges; genial, warm-hearted, nobody's enemy but
his own. I do not believe the elder Booth person-
ated lago more powerfully than Eaton. He was a
genius, very ready with his retort, on or off the
stage. On one occasion, in the play of " Pizarro,"
Eaton sustaining that character, one of the attend-
ants rushes in with the cry, "My lord, we have just
taken an old cacique" Pizarro, who has been worked
up by the occurrences of the drama to a fearful pitch
of fury, replies, "Drag him before me!" But in-
stead, the supernumerary rushed in and roared out,
" My lord, we have just taken an old cask" Eaton,
who as Pizarro was prepared with the correct reply,
looked for a moment amazed; but, startled by a titter
among the audience, he shouted out, "Koll him in,
and tap him; " and after the roar of applause and
laughter had subsided, in which Eaton and all on the
532 MERCIFUL HINDRANCES.
stage joined, the play proceeded. Poor Eaton ! every
one knows what a wreck he became.
In spite of much that was attractive to a young
man of my temperament, I felt an unaccountable re-
pugnance to adopting acting as a profession; and so
when the theatre closed, in about three weeks after I
entered it, I never tried again, being perfectly satis-
fied with my experience, though it lasted for so short
a time. Looking back from my standpoint to-day, I
thank God that hindrances were thrown in my way,
and that I utterly failed in accomplishing my cher-
ished purpose. It may be I failed for the lack of
dramatic genius. However that may be, I am glad
that I failed; for, though many have succeeded in
resisting the temptation surrounding them in the pro-
fession, I know and the world knows that many
have been wrecked, and I have no conception that I
should have escaped; so that I consider the hin-
drances were merciful.
In my past experience I recall impulses that have
come to me mysteriously, and sometimes under
strange circumstances. I remember one illustration.
When in Worcester, England, twenty-six years ago,
I was a guest of a gentleman, a member of Parlia-
ment, who resided just opposite the city on the banks
of the river, a delightful place, with a lawn, rock-
work, and trees artistically planted. I was at that
time a smoker, and though I never smoked in a gen-
tleman's house without an invitation, I deemed it
necessary to have my smoke after dinner, if by any
means I could get it with no annoyance to others. So
after dinner I strolled down to the river-side, out of
sight of the house, took out my cigars and matches,
and proceeded to light a cigar. The wind blew out
SMOKING, NOT PRAYING. 533
the match. Another was tried, and another. I took
off my hat to shield it from the wind. It was of no
avail. I got some brimstone down my throat, or
something as bad; but the cigar would not ignite.
Then I kneeled down close to the rock by the path at
the side of the river, and with my hat off endeavored
to secure the object. !N"ow, I never go on my knees
but I am reminded of prayer, and the thought came,
"If any one should see me, they would probably
think that some man had sought that retired spot for
private devotion, and that he was saying his prayers;
and what am I doing? I am sucking away at a cigar,
hoping to obtain fire enough from the match to get a
smoke. What would the audience say who heard me
last night, should they see me now? " The inconsist-
ency of my practice with my profession struck me so
forcibly, that I said, " I'll have no more of it." I rose
from my knees, took cigars and matches and threw
them into the river, and I never touched a cigar to
smoke for eighteen years.
For our encouragement we have some splendid
records of the power to overcome when men have
yielded to a good impulse, and in God's name and
seeking His help have resisted all temptation, and
thus have been enabled to fight to the end unflinch-
ingly.
By his own letters and Cottle's reminiscences, it is
abundantly proved that for eight or ten years Cole-
ridge, with all his mighty gifts, seemed utterly lost to
his friends through intemperance. "Wordsworth and
Cottle had given him up, and were looking every day
to hear of his death. His wife had ceased to hear or
to desire to hear any further of or from him, and he
probably had not a real friend in the world who had
534 A GOOD IMPULSE.
the slightest hopes of ever seeing him reformed.
Wordsworth had appointed watchers to be with him
night and day. He had violated every pledge, de-
ceived every friend, lost his honor, self-respect, and
all confidence in his own power to conquer this all-
absorbing vice. When an outcast, without a guinea,
he did the wisest and most conscientious thing he had
ever done, and which altered the destiny of his whole
future life. After some correspondence with a physi-
cian, to whom he revealed his situation, he became an
inmate of the family of Dr. Gilman, of Highgate.
There he lived for thirty years, restored by loving
and respectful treatment, and moral and medical care
and restraint. He entered the house an humble peni-
tent, the slave of opium. He dwelt there for almost
a generation, living and at length dying a Christian;
and he earnestly desired that after his death a full
statement of his case might be laid before the world.
When a man yields to a good impulse because it is
good and right, it will never lead him astray. I met
a man who is a living and striking example of this.
A brief sketch of his career was published some time
since by Rev. John Guttridge, of Manchester, Eng-
land. He was a sporting man, and was regarded as
no ordinary racer. He had been matched and betted
on forty-seven times. He was very popular, and he
resolved to open a beer-house, which should serve as
a place of resort for his associates. There was in him
a good deal of natural tenderness, and some con-
science; and in my experience I have found among
some of the hardest characters a tenderness that was
surprising. Jerry McAuley, once a river-thief and a
" hard case," now a tender-hearted Christian, the love
of Jesus melting the heart once so callous. One day
*
"l'LLGET OUT OF IT." 537
this man noticed a poor woman, with two or three
children, whose husband was drinking in his shop,
looking anxiously in at the door. The thought of the
meanness of selling beer and making money out of
the poverty of this family struck him quite forcibly,
and the impulse to get out of the miserable business
came on him with such power that he said to his wife,
" See here, lass, I'll work my fingers to the stumps
before I'll keep a box like this ; and I'll get out of it."
When it was known that he purposed giving up the
business, he was advised to advertise and sell it.
What was his reply? "N"a, na; I give it up because
it's bad; and I'll put no man in a bad business for
money. If any man goes into this box, he goes in on
his own bottom for all me." To a brewer, who offered
to put him in a larger and more profitable house, he
said, " ~Na, I would not do it for all the world. I'd
die first." At that time he saw no evil in the drink
itself, only in its abuse. He therefore secured a
house, and took to it several barrels of ale and porter
for moderate use. One day he saw a notice in the
street of a temperance meeting to be held. He
yielded to the impulse, and decided to go. Under
the influence of the lecture, which was delivered by
Mr. Jabez Inwards, of London, he went home, hast-
ened to the cellar, and turned the tap of every barrel.
His wife, being told by one of the children what was
going on, rushed into the cellar.
"What are thee doing, lad? "
" Don't thee see what I be doing."
" Eh ! but wilful waste makes woful want, and thee
art wasting the good stuff."
Seeing that she produced no effect by her appeal,
she said:
33
538 THE FIKST SERMON.
"Art thee crazy, lad?"
"No, I'm not crazy; I'm coming to my senses."
" But how dost thee think I can care for the chil-
dren without a drop of ale?"
" Thee must try porridge, for I'll have no more of
the stuff in the house."
He soon signed the pledge of total abstinence, and
it was to him the dawn of a new life. It was rolling
away the stone from the door of the sepulchre. His
next good impulse was to go to a place of wor-
ship, having never been into one before. The only
religious exercise he remembered was part of a prayer
by a street preacher. He went of his own accord,
with no invitation, to hear the gospel preached
for the first time in his life. If I was a preacher, I
would prefer an audience of men and women who had
never heard the sound of the gospel, than an audience
of those who had heard the message for forty years,
and been unmoved by it. The first sermon he heard
was from the passage in Timothy : " Godliness is
profitable unto all things, having the promise of the
life that now is, and that which is to come." The
preacher was not a learned man, or a refined and elo-
quent speaker; but his homely phrases were thor-
oughly understood, and the effect produced was
shown by the remark, after the discourse: "If it's
true what that chap says, it will just suit me. Only
think! good for this life, and good for t'other. All
right now, and all right then. Safe here, and safe
there. That's just what I want, and I'll have it."
This led to his seeking and finding, and the com-
mencing of a consistent Christian life. His fifteen
years' recklessness had left him in debt; so he did
what every Christian should do, began to pay his
"MATCH WITH THE DEVIL." 539
debts. He had seven little children, and was owing*
one hundred and fifty pounds, without a penny to
meet his obligations. He went to his principal cred-
itor, to whom he was indebted seventy-five pounds,
and engaged to pay five shillings per week, which he
did, never missing a week for more than five years.
To another creditor, who had never even mentioned
the debt to him, he went, three years after he became
a Christian, and said:
" I believe I owe thee seven pounds. Now, I 've a
pig that I Ve fed instead of feeding the publican, and
thou canst have the pig."
" Well, lad," was the reply, " I '11 take the pig ; and
if there 's aught over, I '11 pay thee the balance."
The pig was killed, weighed, and the balance of
three pounds ten shillings was paid over.
On one occasion an old companion, who did not
understand the great change wrought in him, called
at his shop to obtain some sporting information, and
wished to know who was going to win the race in
Hyde Park.
" I do not know anything at all about it."
"Nay, thee canst tell us something about it; thou
knowest what they've done afore."
"Nay, lad; I've nobbut another race to run, and
then I've done."
"Another race art thee going to run? Another
race? Who is it with? Hast thee made another
match? "
"Ay ; I've made a match with the Devil for eternal
life and my own soul, and it will take me all the days
of my life to beat him."
His old companion was quite taken aback. A
cannon-shot would scarcely have surprised him more
540 WILLIAM WILBERFORCE.
than such a reply from one who had been so famous
as a sporting character and so frequently applauded
in "Bell's Life."
"When I shook hands with him, last year, he was
sixty-four years of age, and had been an earnest
worker for temperance and a consistent Christian for
twenty-nine years, with a family of six sons and two
daughters walking with him in the right road, one of
his sons being a successful Christian minister. He
occupies a respectable position; has never been for-
saken ; has been blessed in " basket and store," body
and soul, and has been the means of great blessing to
others. The beginning of all this was the yielding to
a good impulse and giving up what he believed to be
wrong. Such a lesson needs no comment.
In the retrospection necessary to the compilation
of such a book as this there are multitudes of inci-
dents, passages of experience almost forgotten, that
spring up in the memory with a vividness positively
startling; and as this work draws to a conclusion,
the material seems of larger bulk than at its com-
mencement.
In 1827, when a boy of ten, I was taken by my
father to a prayer-meeting held in the lodgings of
the celebrated William Wilberforce, in my native vil-
lage of Sandgate. After the meeting Wilberforce
called me to him, I being the only boy there, and,
laying his hand on my head, gave me his blessing.
In 1879 I was a guest of his grandson, Rev. Basil
Wilberforce, Canon of Winchester, at the Deanery of
St. Mary's, Southampton. In June, 1829, I left the
village of Sandgate, a boy of twelve, on the top of a
night-coach, for London, on my way to America. In
June, 1879, fifty years after, I visited Sandgate to lay
"WORK DOIJE FOR GOD." 541
the corner-stone of a memorial coffee-palace, and re-
ceived a most cordial greeting. As we were entering
the village the carriage was stopped, and, in the kind-
ness of their hearts, the people took out the horses
and drew us through the main street. On every side
were streamers and flags and words of welcome.
Between these points, and during the years that in-
tervened, what a varied experience had been mine!
And the great lessons learned from it all are, that
life is a warfare, a conflict against the power of evil;
that life is unsatisfactory unless there has been work
done in reference to another and higher state of ex-
istence; that there is something to live for above the
fleeting, selfish pleasures that so many spend all to
obtain, and die miserably poor.
We know that though we may see no results from
our whole life's labor, and die without a sign that our
work has been approved or successful, yet we must
remember that
" Work done for God, it dieth not."
"We may die and be forgotten, but our works shall
live after us. The good seed we have been permitted
to sow shall result in a harvest that others shall
gather. To me the great encouragement is that " He
shall subdue all things unto Himself;" " He shall put
all things under His feet." Let us not be disheart-
ened, though the evil we seek to remove seems to
stand solid and unyielding against all our efforts.
On our rugged and romantic coast we see the
mighty bastion of rock withstanding the fury of the
waves, and apparently impregnable. Hark to the
thunder of the crash, as they dash themselves against
these cliffs, and come in full, sweeping charge against
542 LAST WORDS.
these rocks. They fall back, broken, weak, and discom-
fited. Yet they only give place to fresh levies repeat-
ing the assault, and they, like their predecessors, are
hurled back defeated. " The war seems endless. Yet
by slow degrees the sea gains on its silent enemy; it
undermines, it channels, it gnaws caverns, it eats out
chasms, it wears away the surface little by little, it
grinds into sand, it gashes with scars, and will never
rest till it has dragged down its opposing walls into
its depths." So, in the great conflict of right and
wrong, generation after generation may pass away,
apparently defeated, and the wrong appear to gain
the mastery and hold it, but victory must come. " If
it tarry, wait for it; for it shall surely come." " He
shall take to Himself His great name and rule."
And now, as I lay down my pen, in view of all
these years of life, I can say, with Montgomery in his
sonnet on the " Pilgrim's Progress : "
" Yes, I have known and felt and suffered all
That tempts or thwarts the pilgrim on his way ;
Have proved how bitter 'tis to go astray,
How hard to climb, how perilous to fall ;
Now halting, ere I tread the enchanted ground,
I look behind, before me, and around."
" Back to the Cross, where first my peace was sealed,
I turn mine eyes : it darts a single ray,
A clue of light through ah 1 ' the narrow way ; '
Past, present, future, are at once revealed.
Press on, my soul! what now thy course shall stay?
No foe can conquer thee, unless thou yield."
University of California
SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY
405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388
Return this material to the library
from which it was borrowed.
v> .> >> .; JO
> > J ' > -> Ov ^
ip
> ^> >
> > > .. :
^
>
> y>
> > >
> ^ j> j>
> > > >
> o > j>
.>>>>
> >
2>"> )
>
> > >-> >
> j
> > >'> .'
"
^
>^ y
> >>
> >
> > : -> >
>> * > >
> * J>
) ;
>>
-^SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY
A 000 898 987 3
>> - >^>j
'. >JL>>J
*S ^r j j:jP^ )j )t> .
" ' '-> ^^ J ' ' ' ... >
> > ' * > ->/)
> ' >) -
>**
^ > 'jO^a
' ;
>, >
^
^>^ > .
>
'