Chapter 8: A Brace of Fowls.
Chapter 8: A Brace of Fowls.
"Follow with reverent steps the great example
Of Him whose holy work was 'doing good.'
So shall the wide earth seem our Father's temple,
Each loving life a psalm of gratitude!"
WHITTIER.
JUST ONE MORE incident I will relate to show the gratitude with which my poor efforts were repaid by these discharged criminals, when the grace of God touched their hearts.
On one occasion I was preaching in a Primitive Methodist chapel in Leicestershire. It was a summer's evening, and the place was very crowded. At the close of the service the people lingered, and I went down from the pulpit amongst them. Some one said to me:-
"There are three of your men here, sir."
I guessed what was meant, and asked, "Where?"
Two were pointed out to me on the right side of the building. On coming out of gaol they had signed the pledge, and on returning to their village, had been saved through the Salvation Army, for the work of which I praise God. They had risen to become officers, and looked thoroughly nice, bright fellows.
What a blessing would come to our churches if only they were to insist, as the Salvation Army does, on all their members binding themselves to total abstinence! What a marvellous accession of spiritual and moral power would accrue if all Christian people would rank themselves on the side of total abstinence, as a safeguard for themselves and their children, and as a protest against the giant evil of our time, the mother of all woes! The strength of the Salvation Army is largely due to its freedom from drink and smoking, as its lessons of self-control; and to its teaching that the power of Christ can deliver from the power of sin and destroy the works of the devil.
I shall never forget going, one Easter Monday, to the old barracks at Leicester, to see an exhibition of idols. In my innocence I supposed that they were missionary trophies from the South Seas or India. To my surprise, there was nothing of the kind; but something even more practical, interesting, and striking. For, at the most solemn part of the service, six men went to the rear of the platform, and brought out six large sheets of cardboard, each of which was covered with pipes, tobacco-pouches, cigarette-holders, dog-whistles, ribbons, bows, trinkets, and many other things, all of which had been surrendered as having obstructed the growth of the inner life. Would that all who are so eager to destroy the gods of the heathen were equally watchful to keep themselves from idols!
My third friend was on the other side of the chapel, and I made my way to him. On coming up to the end of the little pew where he was standing, he took my hand in his, and falling on his knees kissed it. I confess that it made the choking sensation come in my throat. And among the many marks of gratitude for help given in the hour of need, I do not think that any ever made a deeper impression. Then rising to his feet he said:
"Bide a bit, sir."
In another moment he had passed me and shot out of the door, leaving me in the midst of the people, who seemed unusually interested and amused, as they crowded round. I noticed this, and rather wondered at it, but did not feel perturbed. God has ever allowed me to realize in a very distinct way in my life the presence and ministry of his angels; and I can record that in all my dealings with men in drunken frenzies, and with crowds, as well as in my many journeyings by land and water, they have always formed around me an inviolable cordon of protection. Charge seems to have been given them concerning me, to keep me in all my ways.
In a moment or two the man returned through the chapel door-way, bearing in triumph a living token of his gratitude. At first I could hardly realize what it was; but on closer inspection it proved to be a couple of live fowls, which hanging head downwards were, one from each hand, flapping and swaying about in a most extraordinary manner. Advancing to me, he said-
'You must take these home with you, sir."
"Not likely," said I; "I couldn't think of taking such a gift from a working man."
"Ay, but ye must take them: ye have done me a sight more good than the gift of these fowls will do me harm," was the reply.
And then I learnt that he had been forty times in gaol through drink, but on the last occasion had signed the pledge with me and kept it; had been rapidly regaining his lost place in the little village; and was beginning to prosper in a small way. He, too, had given his heart to God, and was living a Christian life.
Now, I was in a considerable dilemma. On the one hand, I did not want to hurt this man's feelings; on the other, I did not know what to do with these two fowls. I should have to take them some distance home, and I did not feel sure of being able to kill them when I got them there. I knew, too, that my servant was very timid, and I felt sure that neither of us could wring their necks. Death by beheading, strangulation, or drowning, were, of course, possible; but I felt that I could not be the executioner. I suggested my difficulty to my friend, amid the laughter of the people, who could not understand how the man who did not scruple to attack the devil and his kingdom, was so afraid of inflicting pain on these two birds. Certainly I should never have shot the albatross of which Coleridge sings.
"I'll soon put that right," he said, as he again disappeared. In a few moments he was back again, having committed the double murder on the doorstep of that little chapel. He carried those birds to the station, and I carried them home in triumph, up the main thoroughfare of Leicester, amid the amazement of the passers-by, who at first sight may have thought I had turned sportsman, and was carrying home partridges or pheasants. But they soon saw it was neither, though I was as self-satisfied as if it were my first brace of grouse.
They were very good eating indeed. I ate one, and some friends ate the other. They needed no sauce, because of the fragrant kindness of the donor. I did think of preserving some part of the plumage; yet why should I?-for I need no outward symbol of that man's love; it lingers still in my heart, as the aromatic scent in the drawer where it has lain in years gone by. These are the things that sweeten life, and give it meaning, and come back again and again on the memory with unabated loveliness. Oh that I were as true and tender to Thee, my Divine Master, as many of these saved ones were to me!