Chapter 7: My Work as Banker.
Chapter 7: My Work as Banker.
"Find thy reward in the thing
Which thou hast been blest to do;
Let the joy of others cause joy to spring
Up in thy bosom too!-
And if the love of a grateful heart
As a rich reward be given,
Lift thou the love of a grateful heart
To the God of love in heaven!"
MACDONALD.
ONE MORNING WHEN I reached the prison, I found the clerks in a state of considerable excitement over a man who was to receive about £20, which he had brought in with him in a great medley of coins. There were one or two handfuls of them. Now, of course, while it was customary to hand over to me any money that accrued to the prisoners as the result of their good behaviour, it was quite impossible to entrust me with their own. That was necessarily handed over to them, and signed for by them. And if I was to get hold of it at all, it had to be by their own deed of gift, and in response to my solicitations. Though I could not, therefore, handle that money then, I resolved to keep sharp eyes on the owner, and to get it from him, if I could, at the earliest moment.
As soon as we had got outside the prison-gate, I saw a little man, who had been loitering about, accost my protégé in a suspiciously familiar manner, and there was evidently an attempt on his part to induce the other to go with him to the public-house across the road. However, to my great satisfaction, I saw that my vivid description of all the blessings which would accrue from a breakfast with me at the coffee-house had been sufficiently alluring to enable him to remain steadfast to his promise to go there. So we all went along together. While, however, my attention was being given to others of my morning party, I suddenly missed the two. I looked up and down the road in vain. There was no trace of them; and I instantly suspected that probably the little man had a shrewd suspicion of that money, the same as I had, only that he wanted to spend it for his companion in scenes of dissipation and drunkenness. Perhaps they had already entered a public-house.
As soon as this idea flashed through my mind, I resolved to ransack every public-house in the line of march, so that my friends might not escape me.
In dealing with these men, one is often reminded of the experiences of the salmon-fisher, who may have hooked a strong and vigorous fish, but has to act with the utmost prudence lest his prey escape him, and carry off line and hook in his mad rush to his native depths. As the skilful fisherman willingly plays with his prize for several hours, content to keep but the slenderest hold of it, if only he may succeed at last in drawing it into his net, so the fisher for souls must never be disappointed, though at first his best efforts are met with non-success; he must be prepared to give out line, to wait patiently, sometimes to lose sight of the objects of his solicitude for weeks together; yet the thread of love may follow them into the deepest, darkest depths, and some day, when they are weary of themselves and of sin, they will feel its gentle drawing, and follow it back to your side.
I went into one or two public-houses without success. At last, as I was beginning to despair, I made for one which I well remember, because, unlike most places of that description, in which ingress, and especially egress, must be made as easy as possible, the door stood at the top of three stone steps. I pushed it open, and there, sure enough, the two men stood side by side at the bar, with two pewter pots of beer in front of them. They were laughing together; but whether I, or their escape from me, was the subject of their merriment, I, of course, could not discover.
"Ah, my lads," said I, "you have made a mistake! This is not my shop. Come along with me, and I will put you right." They looked very disconcerted, and, to use a vulgar expression, "dropped on." However, there was no time for explanation; and as the barmaid had for a moment left the counter, and no one else was there, I was able to sweep them both out and down the steps, and into the street, before they realized what was happening. I never inquired whether or not that beer was paid for; but if so, I am only thankful to know that by its purchasers at least it was not drunk. Had they but sipped it, I should have had one good tale less to tell; on the waters of strong drink those two men would have drifted beyond my reach.
So we all arrived safely at the coffee-house. I secured an extra good breakfast for each of them; and as I write I think I can see them sitting at the little marble-covered table in the corner, the tall one beside me, the other on my left hand.
When they were in the middle passage of the breakfast, I suddenly turned to the moneyed man, and said-
"My friend, you have got well-nigh twenty pounds in your pocket."
He looked at me keenly, as if to say, "How do you know that? and what business is it of yours?"
The other man also stopped eating, and looked hard at me, evidently suspecting that I should prove a formidable rival to his plans.
"Now," I continued, "I want you to shell out, and hand over to my keeping all the money you have in your pocket. I will give you a receipt for it, and something to go on with; but will 'stick to' the rest till we can see what is best to do with it."
My friend stared at me, and for a little time was lost in a profound reverie, during which his little companion gave signs of evident perturbation and excitement. Finally, the great hand of the discharged prisoner dived down into the capacious pocket of his trousers, and brought up a handful of coins, gold, silver, and copper, heterogeneously mixed together with string, pencil, and other et ceteras. Throwing them all down on the table with a ring, and turning to me, he said-
"There's the lot, sir; take care of them for me."
So I took possession of the money, carefully counted it, gave him a receipt, swept it into my pocket, and handed him a couple of shillings for immediate necessities. He said that he was desirous of leaving Leicester shortly en route for London and New York. We made an appointment of day and hour for meeting at the station, and in the meanwhile I directed him to a respectable place where he would be able to procure lodgings, and induced him to sign the pledge before he left the place.
At the appointed time I met him at the station, with his money in rather smaller bulk. He met me with a smile, as soon as he saw me come on to the platform.
"Sir," said he, "you have done me the kindest thing that anyone could have done. That money which you took care of was sent me by my brother, who is doing well in New York city, for me to come over to him to make a new start. I have been a bad 'un, I can tell you. But it's about time that I did make a new start, and that's what I have determined to do."
"I am glad to hear it," I replied.
"Yes, sir," said he; "I thought things over a good bit when I was in yon place, and made up my mind that I would never touch the drink again. That's been my downfall, you see. If I can only keep from the drink, my brother says he will make a man of me."
Something in my look and' manner probably recalled to him the scene in the public-house, and he added-
"You remember that man-him that met me when
I came out? He meant me no good. He knew that I had got a lot of 'the needful,' and he came to help me spend it. I am glad you saved me from him; he soon dropped off when he saw that you had cleared me out. I don't care if I never see him again. But it was a close shave that morning."
"A very close shave; but how did you come to let him take you in there?"
"I don't know, sir; but I am one of those easygoing chaps, and it's so hard to say, No."
Then I told him about the keeping power of the Lord Jesus, and how He is willing to enter in and hold the door of our hearts against the foe; and I begged him to hand the keeping of his soul over to Him.
The train was nearly due; but it suddenly occurred to me that I might get him a Testament, and I went across for one to Smith's bookstall. They had nothing but a copy of the Revised New Testament, which I bought, and wrote his name and mine on the front page, adding the words, "Meet me at the gate of the Golden City."
His train then came into the station; and he entered the carriage with many an expression of thankfulness, and a solemn promise that it should be indeed a new and blessed beginning.
I know nothing more of him, though I have often wondered what has been his record since; but I trust that among those who will welcome me there, I shall meet again that man to whom I waved good-bye as his train steamed out towards London.