The Man with the Book; or, The Bible Among the People. Weylland John Matthias
rapidly succeeded each other. The truthfulness and simplicity of the narrative has no doubt promoted this result, but the secret of its success is not in the book itself, but in the deep interest taken by Christians generally in effort to evangelize the people of London.
To many the difficulty of uniting disciples of various names in hearty co-operation appeared to be insurmountable; and the gaining of access to and influencing the "lapsed masses," the ungodly and criminal, to religion and virtue seemed all but hopeless.
This simple record of mission work has had its influence in removing such difficulties from the minds of many, and in enlisting the sympathy of persons who were previously uninformed as to a Christian union which is auxiliary and helpful to all the Churches.
At the time the narrative commenced there were only one hundred and twelve city missionaries employed in London; but, through the blessing of Almighty God and the confidence of His people, the increase of their number has been steady and support increasingly generous. The mission staff now numbers 448 effective men with 30 veterans upon the retiring fund; these, with the committee and their officers, examiners of candidates and local superintendents, number upwards of one thousand men, who prayerfully and with great activity seek the spiritual good and general uprising of the poor of the great Metropolis.
Much remains to be done. In many parishes extending to the distant suburbs there are numerous poor districts, inhabited by myriads of perishing souls, to each of which the appointment of "a Man with the Book," charged to read and bring its life-giving power to bear upon each man, woman, and child within his influence, would indeed be a blessing conferred.
Charged with the duty of providing for many of these "waste places" in the east and west of the City, the writer will gladly welcome the friendship and aid of those who, realizing the preciousness of personal salvation, from the abundance of the heart deviseth liberal things.
With the committee there is one strong conviction, and it is this, that their work, which commenced in obscurity and feebleness, by three men without name, influence, or money, but who were strong in faith, prayer, and holy zeal—that the effort though now exceeding large—can only be continued and extended in the same spirit of simple trust and devotion, "glory" being rendered "in the Church by Jesus Christ, unto Him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we can ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us."
London City Mission House,
Bridewell, E.C.
May, 1878.
The Book in the Court:
ITS INTRODUCTION.
"High up a dark and winding stair,
From floor to floor I went,
And heard sometimes a woman swear,
Or beaten child lament.
"Upon the topmost flight I found
A close and wretched room;
Alas, that any human soul
Should call such place a home!
"No fire was burning in the grate,
The walls were damp and bare;
The window-panes were stuffed with rags,
No furniture was there."
Mrs. Sewell.
CHAPTER I
DESCRIPTION—THE STRANGE VISITOR—TRANSLATORS—THE CHANTER AND DOG-NURSE—THIEVES—BEGGARS—PRIZE-FIGHTER—A WIDOW INDEED—THE POWER OF PRAYER.
"He that hath my Word, let him speak my Word faithfully."
Jer. xxiii. 28.
WHY the inhabitants called their place of residence Paradise Court was never clearly understood. The parochial authorities substituted for the name of the garden of primeval beauty that of a lovely southern county of old England, and on their official papers styled it Devonshire Place. Many would question the propriety of the Court bearing either name, as it forms the centre of a labyrinth of dirty overcrowded streets. It is not a blind alley, as it is of elbow shape with two entrances connecting streets, though only used by persons of profound local knowledge. The houses are so ill-shaped and dilapidated as to prejudice the mind against London of the past generation; while the murky atmosphere—the cloud of ragged yellowish garments suspended from the upper windows by pole and line—the narrowness of the passage-way, which increases the thick darkness of night—the constant noise made by the drunken and quarrelsome, render it a place to be avoided by the respectable, however poor.
There were, however, at the time our narrative commences, respectable visitors to the Court, and foremost among them for intimate acquaintance with the community was that valuable official the Relieving Officer. His approach was by some mysterious means instantaneously known, and produced wonderful effects; unruly sounds were hushed, quite a number of poor creatures were taken suddenly ill, and a most appalling condition of poverty was created. Strange however to say, his exit was marked by a revivifying influence,—low muttering occasionally burst into storms of abuse, but not until he had turned the corner; we may therefore suppose that he was in happy ignorance of the strong feeling which existed against him.
The policeman on duty used to pause, as from professional instinct, when he passed each narrow entrance, and at night had been known suddenly to turn his bull's eye upon persons approaching or leaving the Court. Occasionally a visit was paid by that dreaded person, the Inspector: which event was always unexpected. Intelligent members of the force at a given moment took their position at either end, while the Inspector marched with several officers to a particular house, and then marched off with the somebody he wanted. Next morning a company of the inhabitants used to return the compliment, by going in a body to the Police Court, and for days after, the subject matter of conversation in the Court was, "How the 'spector got that ere hinformation what he received."
The postman occasionally entered the place, and when he did so he grasped his letters firmly,—while in order to effect a proper delivery he deciphered strange hieroglyphics. Of course those true friends of the poor, the parish and dispensary doctors, were frequently to be seen in the place. They knew it well as a pestilent spot, and, while alleviating suffering, gave many certificates for the burial of the dead. As regards the living there was scanty record: the name of the place being rarely if ever written in the Vestry Register. A few out of the swarm of dirty, shoeless, tattered little heathen (heathen in the sense of being unbaptized and untaught in the Christian religion) were occasionally hunted for by their warm-hearted friend, the Ragged School teacher, who had entered their names in his class book. With two exceptions these were the only respectable visitors to Paradise Court; and the exceptions only came on Black-Monday morning. One was the stern broker-man, who represented the landlord of half the houses, and whose terrible utterance, "Pay the rent, or I will chuck your sticks into the Court," had a money-producing effect. The other Monday visitor was a lady of peculiar style, who entered the place from her suburban residence exactly at nine o'clock. Though shabby in dress, it was believed by her thirty-four miserable tenants that she was a real lady at home. She was fluent of speech, and gave many reasons why it would be wrong of her to let the rent run on. She had never been known to comprehend an excuse; and it was an established fact that business friendship existed between her and that dreadful broker-man.
To this succession of official and other visitors another was to be added. The Paradise people knew it not; and, if they had, he would not have been received with demonstrations of joy; indeed the few persons who one March morning noticed two men in conversation at the narrow entrance of the Court, were made uncomfortable, as they could not comprehend what was meant. "I wonders if they are a coming down here," observed one woman to another. "They aint mendicities," she replied; and hastened to inform her companion lodgers "that something was up, as two men, one of them an old-un, with a brown coat, and the tother a young-un nearly all black, was a talking and looking down." A rush to the doors and windows took place, but they only saw the two men part company. The eldest walked away and the other entered the open door of the first house.
To remove all mystery,—the