Chapter 14: The Streets.
Chapter 14: The Streets.
"Let us watch awhile the sowers, let us mark their tiny grain,
Scattered oft in doubt and trembling, sown in weakness and in pain;
Then let Faith, with radiant finger, lift the veil from unseen things,
Where the golden sheaves are bending, and the harvest anthem rings."
-F. R. HAVERGAL.
THIS PRISON MISSION introduced me into a great variety of Christian and philanthropic work throughout the town of Leicester. Most people knew of me, even if they were not personally acquainted with me; and one was able to do and say things which had not been received in such good part, unless my fellow-townsfolk had learnt to trust and respect my motives.
One of the most interesting branches of work was the expeditions which a band of Christian working men and I used to make into the streets of Leicester on Saturdays, especially in the winter. We met about 9.30 in the evening, at the close of the prayer-meeting; and, after we had fortified ourselves with supper, and divided into twos, taking several directions, we dived down amid the great multitudes of people that filled the streets.
What a sight they used to be, those Leicester streets on Saturday night! The glare of the gas in the market place reflected from the clouds; the murmur of voices; the clatter of boots over the ill-paved causeways in the back parts of the town; the bags, and parcels, and satchels filled with purchases for the week. The working classes seemed to reserve all their shopping for that single night, and to turn out en masse to do it. The public-houses were, of course, in full blast, the bars crowded with people; and scores of men would be reeling home, some just able to walk, others uproariously merry, others again inclined to fight. There would be plenty of incident to arrest the attention, plenty of cases needing a helping hand.
We were a kind of moral and spiritual ambulance corps. Sometimes we stopped a drunken fight; or led home a bewildered inebriate, making an appointment to call on him the following morning, to take his pledge and bring him to the house of God. At other times we might have to argue with a man for an hour or two, as he kept putting us off with false addresses, or evaded our enquiries. Often we were able to arrest some one whom we knew to be in temptation, and to say in the words of Scripture, "What doest thou here?"
Here let me be garrulous, and tell one story which is as fresh to me as on the day on which it happened. One drizzling Saturday afternoon I was in search of adventure in my favourite resort, when in certain moods-the streets. My preparations being finished for the coming day, I felt free. As I was going down one long dreary street, I suddenly came on a man propped up against the wall, which he dared not leave for fear of falling, for drink had affected his motor nerves, though it had left his brain clear. He was unable to walk steadily, but quite able to understand what he was doing, and what happened subsequently. A group of small children were eyeing him with astonishment, and I think he was addressing them more or less coherently. Discovering his plight, I offered to take him home. At first he refused, because I was too much of a gentleman. But finally I overcame his objections, and we started. He was a much bigger man than myself, and heavier; and I found it very difficult to keep him steady with one hand, and to shelter us both under my umbrella with the other.
Being anxious to take him to the address he had given me with as little delay as possible, I thoughtlessly took what I knew to be a shorter cut, forgetting for the moment that it ended in a walk across some clay pits, on the further side of which his home lay. It was a perilous adventure, the remembrance of which even now makes me shudder; for no sooner had we got over the stile, and were well started on the sticky soil, than he collapsed helplessly on the ground, making it impossible for me to keep my feet, an experience which was repeated more than once in that never-to-be-forgotten tramp. In fact, no Turkish bath that I have enjoyed since has had a greater effect upon me than my efforts to keep my charge upon his feet on that slippery clay. A man passed by without offering to help, who reminded me instantly of the Levite in the parable; and yet how could I blame him, who perhaps had no change of clothes to substitute for those which would certainly have become thickly coated if he had borne me company?
At last we reached the other side, with its terra firma, and a few steps brought us to his home. We went up the side passage, and appeared in a besmirched condition as to our clothes, before the window of the back kitchen, where his wife and children were having tea. I can now see the look of wonder upon the woman's face. She could not understand who this man was that had brought her husband home; and I think she feared that I was a policeman in plain clothes. Her fears, however, were soon dissipated, and we sat down at the table.
"Missus, give the gentl'm'n some tea," he said; and she at once climbed a chair, and began to search among her best china for a cup and saucer. Now, I always dread best china, partly because I am afraid of breaking it, and partly because of the dust which generally gathers in it; and so I begged the good woman not to mind, but to give me a cup of tea in the first mug or cup that came to hand. While she was preparing to do this, he broke in-
"Have ye got any of them cards with yer?"
"What cards?" said I.
"Them teetotal cards," he replied.
"Oh, yes," said I, "plenty"; for I always carried a supply with me.
His wife then sought for the ink, and brought at last from the front room a pot, in which were the dried remains of what had been ink, like the ashes of an extinct volcano. With these we made shift, and with some difficulty got the card signed. The wife and children had no need to copy his example, for they were already on the safe side. And I left the house with many assurances that he would come and hear me preach-which he did; and that afternoon ended most satisfactorily, in the winning of his soul for a new Master.
On another occasion, late one Saturday night, I picked up a man, incapable of taking care of himself, and found that he belonged to the neighbouring little town of Loughborough. He confessed to me that he was married, his wife as nice a girl as you would wish to see; that she did not know where he was, but would be looking for him. Then he relapsed into a state of incoherency; and there was nothing for it but to take him to the station, pay his fare, give him in charge of the guard, and put in his pocket a piece of paper, with words like these written on it in a clear hand:
"My friend, I found you in the streets of Leicester, unable to care for yourself, because you were so drunk; I paid your fare, and sent you back to Loughborough. I urge you, in the strength of Christ, to give up this accursed habit, which will ruin body and soul."
But my working-men met with adventures even more thrilling and interesting; and they were happy hours in which we recounted our experiences. What a romance there is in the streets! Comedy and tragedy within touch; lights and shadows chasing each other, as they do across the hills. Who need live a lonely life, when within reach of such a wealth of human need, and sorrow, and love, only waiting our search!
Closely connected with this were the open-air services we held two or three times a week during the summer. Ah, those meetings by the weighing machine in the Humberstone Gate, and in the Infirmary Square! My voice is not naturally suited for this kind of work; but I used to do most in guiding the meeting, giving out the hymns, introducing the speakers or solo singers, and giving the last fifteen minutes' talk.
If a man wants to learn to speak, let him go into the street, stand up on a chair and begin. It will not be long before he learns what sort of talk will hold an audience. His congregation is apt to disappear in a remarkably short time, so soon as he becomes prosy. It is a great mistake to think that anyone or that any kind of talk will do for the open air. We should put our best men forward there, and they should give their very best utterances. An open-air audience will listen to good, earnest, common sense, and you may season it with that natural play of humour and bonhomie which come and go when the soul is speaking without reserve.
I always sought to have a little ring gathered around me; but before now I have started absolutely alone. But the meetings which began with most discouragement generally ended with most success-as we discovered when, at the end of the service, we marched to the mission hall and counted up our gains.
There is so much in the open air to suggest topics for speech. The telegraph wires, speaking of prayer, and the messages which are ever flashing into our souls; the precautions taken against the lightning stroke, and the outbreak of fire; the earthenware pipes to be laid underground, representing the life hidden with Christ in God, through which living water flows; the crescent moon, recalling the incompleteness which is the lot of us all; the full moon, emblematic of the light which, when in perfect fellowship with Jesus, we catch and reflect; the noise of the carts drowning the speaker's utterances as the rush of worldliness and business does "the still small voice." Texts peep out on all sides, and illustrations coyly offer themselves ready made.
Christian man, pining for a sphere of usefulness! young aspirant for a pulpit! minister, without a charge! take my advice. Do not pine in inaction on the shore; launch out into the deep of the streets, and let down your nets for a draught.