Little Abe, or, the Bishop of Berry Brow / Being the Life of Abraham Lockwood

CHAPTER XIX.

Methodist Lovefeast.

Methodism has created new institutions and coined new words to express the object of them. The lovefeast is purely Methodistic: it is a meeting of Christian people belonging to one or more societies, where they relate their religious experience, and bear their testimony to the worth and influence of Divine grace in the soul.

Under the conduct of a minister, or someone duly appointed for the purpose, the meeting is opened with singing and prayer; then, while the people are sitting, bread and water are distributed to all present, to suggest that believers are members of one great family, and partners in the same spiritual provision made by Christ who gave Himself to be the Bread of Life for men. When this is done the offerings of the people are gathered, usually for the poor of the Lord's flock. The formalities ended, the meeting is thrown open for the relation of Christian experience, and any one speaks that is prompted.

In every period of Methodism the lovefeast has been a precious and popular means of grace. These meetings are held all through the country, every little church taking care to have its quarterly or annual lovefeast. And it is remarkable what a hold some of these meetings have upon the people; ten, or even twenty miles, have not been considered too great a distance to be travelled in order to be present at some of them, even though the entire journey has had to be performed on foot. Men and women, some of them stricken in years and bowed down with the toils and cares of a long and hard life, have joyfully walked many a weary mile for the pleasure of attending a lovefeast; old people, leading their grand-children by the hand, and telling them of the stirring times of early Methodism; younger people in groups, singing revival hymns as they plod steadily along the dusty or miry roads under melting sun or pelting rains, making their way to these attractive and soul-stirring meetings, contending against every obstacle and overcoming every hindrance, determined to be there and do honour to the Divine Master, who said, "Ye are my witnesses."

There have been some of the grandest manifestations of Divine power at these gatherings, as seen and felt in the sweet, gentle, and unconscious melting of feelings, until the whole congregation has been broken down to tears and songs of joy and praise; or coming suddenly upon them as a "rushing mighty wind," without sound or sign, save in the bending of heads, the breaking of hearts, the streaming tears, and the adoring responses of the people. Then, believers have caught the spark of sanctifying fire from God Himself, and declared it; then, men have been endued with the gift of tongues, and spoken with apostolic power; then, sinners, drawn into the place by the peculiar attractions of the occasion, have felt their souls shaken by Divine energy, like forest trees in a tempest, and trembling, bending, rending, breaking, have fallen in the storm of Heaven's mercy, and cried for help and found it. Oh, how many there are now in glory or on the way, of whom it may be said, "Convicted in a lovefeast! converted in a lovefeast! sanctified in a lovefeast!" Their name is "legion, for they are many." Hallelujah!

Some things among the usages of the churches we may perhaps afford to dispense with and suffer no loss, but not this glorious means of grace. If in any place they have lost their power, the fault is not in the institution, but in the Church; religious declension is the greatest enemy to this good old custom. If the Lord's people return to their first love, the lovefeast will resume its former glory and power. Oh, Lord, "wilt Thou not revive us again, that Thy people may rejoice in Thee?"

Methodism cannot afford to forsake her old ways for new and untried ones; they are intelligent, proper, and essentially Christian. Lovefeasts are the olive branch which we have received from the revered hands of our fathers and mothers in the faith, not to be cast away, but to be prized and kept as a mark of our love for them, for each other, and for Christ our Saviour; and though the green branch which they left us may be somewhat faded, and its leaves droop in our moistureless hands, though it has lost some of the freshness it had when it first came to our keeping, thank God! thank God! it is not dead, it lives! and can be revived. It wants more moisture; sprinkle tear-drops of penitence upon its shrunken foliage; let the springs of our sympathy once more flow over it; let us ask God to give us the "upper and the nether springs," that His love and ours may flow out in one united stream; let us come to that stream, near, nearer, to the brink, and olive branch in hand, plunge in, refresh ourselves, and revivify the blessed, beautiful, and sacred symbol.

There was no meeting in which Little Abe was more at home than a lovefeast; whether as conductor or in a private capacity,—if such a term can be applied to Abe,—he gloried in a rousing lovefeast. His love for these meetings and his aptitude in conducting them occasioned a great demand for his presence. He had such a way of interspersing enlivening comments between the speakers. He was a good singer, too, and was always ready with some hymn expressive of the feeling of the meeting. Then he had the power to make everyone feel at home, so that he was the very man to lead a lovefeast, although he did sometimes say things that would shock very orderly and circumspect persons.

DEVIL DIDN'T POP THEE.

Little Abe was leading a lovefeast in Berry Brow Chapel; the place was crowded, people had come from far and near; the Holy Spirit was present in great power; there was no lack of witnesses, two or three being often on their feet together waiting for an opportunity to speak. Little Abe, as he said, "was fair swabbing o'er," he wept for joy.

A young man at length rose to relate his Christian experience. He had but lately been converted to Jesus, and before that had been a very wicked, drunken, degraded character. He proceeded to say what the Lord had done for him, how He had found him in his sins and misery, and taken hold of him when hardly any one else would look at him, except a policeman, who felt as if he had a sort of right to him, and often found him board and lodgings for a few weeks. At the time of his conversion he was almost naked, and absolutely destitute; said he, "I had popt" (pawned) "my coat, and popt my shoes, my vest, my shirt, and everything on which I could raise money, and I was almost in hell." This was more than Abe could sit under; he sprang to his feet and exclaimed, "It's a rare job th' devil didn't pop thee and all, my lad! Praise th' Lord!" The young man fell on his seat and vented his gratitude in a fresh burst of tears, and many an eye in that meeting ran over as well.

RELIGION ALL HUMBUG.

Little Abe once got up in a lovefeast. "Friends," said he, "a man asked me what I made so mich noise abaat religion for; he said, 'It's all humbug,' and I said, 'Thaa'rt roight for once, mon; it's th' sweetest humbug that iver I tasted. I have been sucking it for mony a lang year, and it is sweeter than iver.'" (Humbug is the Yorkshire name for sweets and goodies). It was just in Abe's way to turn the tables on his assailant, and certainly in this case the Little Bishop had the best of the encounter, and the joy of the humbug as well.

PENITENT PHYSIC.

The Bishop was leading a lovefeast in Shelley Chapel (where it is said that the Rev. John Wesley once preached), and one of the speakers had been a backslider, but had determined to return to the Lord. This man was telling the meeting his bitter sorrow, and how he had drunk of the wormwood and gall of repentance, and as he spoke tears ran chasing each other down his face. "Bless th' Lord," said Little Abe, "I see my Father has been giving the' some penitent physic, and it's made the' 'een" (eyes) "run. Ne'er moind, lad, He'll heal thee heart, and wipe' away all tears from thee 'een.'"

HONLEY FEAST MONDAY.

The Honley feast is one of the remaining relics of byegone times, and is tenaciously kept year by year throughout the parish as a holiday. It begins with Sunday, and extends over the greater part of the week, during which time the people enjoy themselves in ways suited to their varied tastes, too many of them indulging in the cup which brings aching heads and empty pockets. What a pity it is that men, and even women, too, are so infatuated as to think that pleasure can only be found in drunkenness and public-house brawling! Thank God there are many who know the folly of this, and have other and better ways of finding pleasure. Ever since Salem Chapel was first built it has been the custom to hold a lovefeast there on Honley Feast Monday, and this is perhaps the most popular meeting in the whole year, and is always looked to with great interest. People come to this lovefeast from many miles around, and the chapel is invariably filled to overflowing.

This was always a great occasion with Little Abe—a real red letter day. I remember attending this annual meeting some years ago. Abe was there, and he certainly monopolised a good share of my attention. He was very happy, and kept on ringing changes with clapping, stamping, shouting, and sometimes, when under strong feelings, he pealed a clash altogether, with hand, foot, and voice. "Hey, lads!" he said, "it's grand! it gets better and better, bless th' Lord!" His face was covered with smiles from his smooth chin to his bald forehead; he never ceased smiling during all that service,—for no sooner had his joyous countenance spent itself on one pleasant thing, and the light, dancing ripples begun to subside, than something else presented itself to his notice, and another smile passed across his face like a playful breeze over a clear pool, shaking up the waves again; and so on he went, through all that service, with a face as bright as a sunbeam.

At length Abe rose to his feet, still smiling, and his hands clasped together; every eye was on him in a moment, and smiles and tears of joy mingled all over the chapel; the women wiped their eyes, and the men shouted, "Glory, Abe! God bless the', lad." "Friends," he began, "I am happy, I mun spaike naa, or I'st brust mysen." "Go on, Abe," came from all parts of the chapel. "Hey, my lads, I mean to go on; I'm noan going to turn back naa; it's heaven I set aat for, and heaven I mean. I've been on th' road aboon fifty years, and I'st get t' th' end afore lang." And then he went on to say how glad he was to see them there once more, and to see the place full of earnest worshippers. "You knaw it warn't always soa. I can remember when we wor just a few, but we agreed to pray for a revival, and gie th' Lord no rest until we should mak' His arm bare amang us. We started a prayer-meeting on Sunday mornings at five o'clock to th' minute, and they that worn't there at time should be locked aat. Well, yo' know, I wor' baan to be at that meeting. So I telled aar Sally on Saturday noight I mun be up i' th' morning at half-past four. Well, wod yo' believe it, I waked abaat five minutes to five. I wor aat o' bed in a wink, and shoved my feet in my stockings, and then on wi' my breeks, scratted up my booits" (boots) "i' my hand, and off I ran in my stocking feet. When I gat hoalf-way up th' Braa th' clock struck five, and I pushed one fooit in my booit, fastened up my gallasses, and ran on agean panting up th' hill, and just as I came t' th' gate I saw th' chapel door shut in my face, so I wor locked aat; but I wor noan baan to looise my meeting. While they insoid wor getting ready, I finished dressing mysen. By-and-bye I hears one on 'em give aat a hymn, and I clapped my ear t' th' key-hoil and listened for th' words, and then I put my maath to th' hoil and sang with 'em, and so I kept on until they began to pray. Then I listened, and shaated Amen through th' hoil, and kept on while iver they prayed. At last my owd friend Bradley stopped in th' middle of his prayer,—'Oppen that door,' he said, 'I canna pray with that chap shaating in at th' key-hoil that road;' so they oppened th' door, and I went in and had my meeting after all,—but yo' moind I wor niver late agean."

Our little friend will be remembered as a lovefeast man for many years to come. His name had quite grown to be associated with the Conference lovefeast of the Methodist New Connexion, and many are the affectionate references to our brother in these grand annual gatherings even to this day. His voice is not now heard as it once was, along with that of Thomas Hannam, John Shaw, and men of like spirit and notoriety; but his name is still fragrant in the affectionate memories of those who are in the habit of attending our Conference lovefeast.

"BREED 'EM YOURSENS."

Although Little Abe was no narrow-minded sectarian, he still loved to foster in the minds of his own children a preference for the people that had, under God, saved his soul, and made him what he was, and he tried to bind his family to the Church of his choice. Spending a Sunday in the town of Dewsbury, in company with a devoted brother and local preacher who is now in heaven, they were led to converse about the Community to which they both belonged. Abe said, "I was born in th' New Connexion, never aat of it, and by God's help I'st die in it, and I hope my children after me." And then, taking up an incident which his own words had called to mind, he said, "My lad went by a cheap trip to Hull t'other day, and what dost ta think wor th' first thing he axed for when he gat there?" "Don't know," replied his friend. "Why, afore he gat aat at station yard, he goes up to a man and says, 'Can yo' tell me th' way t' th' New Connexion Chapel?' Naa," he added, looking across at his friend; "if yo' want th' roight soort, yo' mun breed um yoursens;" a saying which, put into other words, simply means that if we are to have reliable members in the Church, pious parents must bring in their own children, and let them grow up in the fear of the Lord and love of His people, and the maxim is correct.

CHAPTER XX.

Patient in Tribulation.

Abe Lockwood had to encounter many troubles arising from a variety of causes but that which seemed to harass him most was poverty. Having a large family to bring up, and earning but moderate wages by his employment, his head was seldom above water; he just managed to keep above the drowning point. Only the brave, honest, and godly poor who have struggled through similar difficulties, can really know what that good man and his wife had to contend against in this way.

Yet how often do we find poverty and piety yoked together in one house. What a mercy it is that piety will condescend to dwell with poverty; sit down at the same dry crust, or sit without it; wear the same patched and threadbare raiment, and not complain; stay in the same circle, endure the same hunger, cold, sickness, and suffering with unmurmuring constancy, and taking more than half the load of trouble on her own neck will sit the long night through, and "sing of mercy" till the day breaks, and the light comes, and the sun shines again. "Godliness with contentment is great gain."

How many of the Lord's jewels have been ground, cut, and polished on the wheel of poverty; polished, but not set, for poverty is neither the gold nor silver for the setting. No matter, God does not care for the setting, it is the diamonds He loves, "and they shall be mine, saith the Lord of hosts, in that day when I make up my jewels."

When, however, industry, economy, and patient courage had done all, poor Abe was sometimes almost overwhelmed by hardships,—almost, but not altogether. He had a firm faith in God, and used to say, "My Father knows haa mich I can carry to a grain, and He wean't lay a straw too mony upon me, bless Him." In the midst of all the little Bishop maintained a happy heart and a cheerful countenance; he made as little of his poverty as some people do of their luxuries, and an ordinary observer might have supposed he never had a sorrow, or felt a care. The fact is he did not hoard his troubles as some persons do; he did not like them well enough for that. They hung very loosely about him at any time, and he shook them off as soon as he could; instead of buttoning them up in his breast, and keeping them until they rankled, festered, or turned sour, he loosened his bands, bared his bosom to the first healthy breeze of joy that blew, and laughed the moment his sorrows were gone.

"WATTER GRUEL."

He was one day walking several miles to a preaching appointment, in company with another brother who was going to the same place. On the way his friend's nose began to bleed, and they had to stop, though the man's nose still kept on bleeding. Abe tried to stop it: he put a cold stone to the man's neck, held his arms up over head, and resorted to a variety of acknowledged remedies, but with very little effect. "What mun I do, Abe?" said the man. The little Bishop thereupon proceeded to give him his advice. "I'll tell the' what to do," said he; "thaa mun strike at th' rooit" (root) "o' th' evil; thaa lives o'er high; thaa should try watter gruel for six weeks, and thaa'd cure that nose, that's haa I do." A burst of laughter from both hastened the cure, and on they went again with the journey. There was in this quaint remark of his just the slightest reference to the poor fare on which he had many a time set out on a long journey and a hard day's work in the cause of his Divine Master; often enough dear old Abe was like brave Gideon of old, "faint, yet pursuing."

He used to say when he met people who carried their troubles in their faces, "Yo' ha' no need to pull such lang miserable faces, raand 'um up a bit! What! are yo' gotten on dark soid o' th' hedge? Yo' mun flit into th' sunshine, there's plenty o' room." And what a blessing it would be if people who nurse their sorrows would begin to count and cherish their joys instead; the world, and especially the Church, would be full of bright faces and happy hearts.

THE HALLELUJAH COAT.

There was a time when Little Abe was badly provided against the cold, wet, inclement weather which he had to encounter in the work of the Lord, and coming out of the chapels on winter nights exposed him to many a dangerous chill. His only extra covering was a thick woollen muffler around his neck, yet in this way he bore uncomplaining the brunt of storm and pelt of rain. One Sunday night after the little Bishop had been preaching, a man came and invited him to supper before starting for home, and he went. Supper over, Abe prepared to be off; it was a bitter night, cold and wet. On seeing him about to start, the good man said, "I've got something for you, Bishop." Abe looked round and saw him standing with a big, thick overcoat open, ready for him to put on. Without a word of remark he thrust his arms into the coat, and his host proceeded to button it up from his throat to his heels, smiling all the time; this done, he stood back to look at him. Abe clapped his hands together, and shouted "Hallelujah! hallelujah!! I can say now't else—hallelujah! a top coit! a hallelujah coit!" And away he went out into the darkness and rain shouting, "A Hallelujah top coit!" That garment was always known after as "the hallelujah coit."

TEMPTED OF THE DEVIL.

Every Christian knows something of the wiles of the devil, and how busily he goes about to tease, annoy, and break the peace of the Lord's people. Abe had many a tussel with this enemy, but in the strength of faith and prayer he conquered him. During the early years of Abe's Christian life the devil often endeavoured to raise doubts in his mind on fundamental truths; but Abe was not to be moved from the faith. What he could not understand nor explain, he yet believed with all his heart, so that in time the enemy yielded every point of dispute up to him, and Abe kept his heart in perfect peace, so far as these things were concerned. If Satan came to him, it was generally on some unimportant thing which might harass and divert from better things. Abe would say "Th' owd enemy 's ge'en o'er playing 'th' roaring lion,' and turned into a flee, running and hopping all o'er me." And thus the devil would sometimes assail him, rousing his feelings, exciting his imagination and anger, and kindling his resentment to a pitch that sometimes made Abe almost ashamed of himself, especially as it was all about nothing.

ACCUSED OF SWEARING.

After preaching one Sunday at Wellhouse, a place about four miles from where he resided, he was making his way home in the cool of the summer evening, and had got within a very short distance of Berry Brow. Following on the same road was a man that knew Abe very well, who was trying to overtake him. As this man drew nearer he heard the Bishop talking rather loudly, and giving expression to some very extraordinary language, accompanied by sundry violent flourishes of his walking-stick and stamping of his foot, and the man was amazed as he heard Abe break out, "Thaa 'rt a liar, thaa owd devil!" A few moments' silence followed this outburst, during which the little man was walking like a champion racer; then suddenly he broke out again, "I tell the' thaa 'rt a liar, and I will n't believe a word on 't." Then followed another brief silence, and then another excited explosion, which brought Abe to a standstill. "Didn't I tell the' I don't believe the'? Away with the', thaa lying old devil!"

By this time the man came up to him and said, "Why, Abe, whatever art ta swearing abaat soa on a Sunday noight?"

"Swearing! me swearing!" exclaimed Abe. "I'm noan swearing, my lad."

"But I yeerd the' mysen."

"When?"

"Naa, this minute; thaa called somebody a lying owd devil, and sich loike."

"Oh," said the little Bishop kindling at the sudden recollection of what had been passing in his mind, "I've left my Sunday pocket-handkerchief in th' pulpit at Wellhaase, and th' owd devil wor telling me aar Sally wod scold me, and I told him he wor a lying owd devil, and so he is; but I didn't knaw onybody could yeer me." In this way the enemy assailed him on his way home from his pious work, grudging him the peace of mind which a good man has in the service of his Master. Satan would not raise any vital point of faith or duty with Abe, because he knew he would be beaten, and Abe would be blest, and would rise high on the wings of his faith out of the devil's reach; but he could spring a snare upon the good man about his pocket-handkerchief, and gradually worry and tease him into a conflict until he forgot altogether the thought of better things.

COUNTING THE ORGAN PIPES.

Another amusing story is told of Little Abe, showing how Satan sometimes succeeded in trailing a false scent across his path, and leading his mind astray for a time, or, so to speak, shunting him on to a siding, and keeping him there until he discovered the snare. He was sitting in Berry Brow Chapel listening, or endeavouring to listen, to the preacher; it was soon after the new organ was introduced into that place of worship. Abe sat just opposite the organ, so that he could not avoid seeing it. Several times during the service the little Bishop had fidgeted about, and indicated signs of impatience from some cause or another; when all at once, to the astonishment of preacher and people, Abe exclaimed, "I tell the' there's soa many pipes in that organ, I've caanted 'em a dozen times already; if thaa doesn't believe it, caant 'em theesen, devil."

We may imagine the effect produced by Abe's outburst of indignation, that the devil should doubt the accuracy of his counting in a matter so trivial, as well as the annoyance and shame he felt that he had allowed his old enemy to make a dupe of him again. Yet it is only an illustration of the insignificant things that serve to call off our minds from the pursuit of holy studies. The devil would dispute through a whole service about a couple of flies, rather than permit a saint to wait upon God without distraction. It shows that we need to be very watchful against the influence of that arch enemy, even in the Lord's house.

Little Abe, with all his excellences, had his infirmities like other men, and he felt them keenly. It was a cause of great grief to him when, through unwatchfulness, he was led into folly. "Could ye not watch with me one hour?" was said to the weary disciples of old, and might often be repeated to the Lord's people to-day. "Watch, therefore, lest ye enter into temptation."

AN EVIL TEMPER.

One source of temptation to Little Abe was his temper; and yet here few would think he had any trouble at all. If people who knew him were canvassed on this question, the uniform testimony would be that he had a most even disposition; few could be found to testify that they ever saw him overcome by anger. He was, however, naturally of a quick, sensitive temper, and had to keep a jealous watch upon himself, in order to hold this tendency in subjection; the consequence was that it seldom gained the mastery over him after his conversion. Grace turned the lion into a lamb, and subdued the evil spirit within him, and as he grew in grace, the marks of the old Adam became less distinct. Still it was always an occasion for prayer and watchfulness with him; he would not allow himself to be tempted from this side of his character, if he could avoid it. Should anything transpire which was likely to rouse the evil spirit, Abe would take his hat and run away, rather than let the enemy gain ascendancy over him; he felt that it was often better to "hide than 'bide."

All our readers may not be troubled with a fiery temper, but they who are should watch it closely, or they will burn themselves. If you have fire about, keep powder and petroleum out of the way, or there may be an explosion; he that tempts the fire with combustibles must surely pay the penalty sometimes. The safest and wisest policy is to put the fire out altogether; get the evil temper destroyed by Divine grace, and then this "sin shall have no dominion over you."

CHAPTER XXI.

"The Liberal Deviseth Liberal Things."

Little Abe was endowed with a generous heart, but with very limited means. He could generally say as the Apostles did to the lame man, "Silver and gold have I none, but such as I have give I thee;" yet he often devised means whereby he could enjoy the luxury of giving to others. His own children, and even those of the village, knew they could get a penny from Abe if he had one in his pocket, although it might be the last he had in the world, and many a time he might be seen surrounded by a swarm of children in the street, all begging sweets or some other little trifle of him; and you want no better proof of a man's habitual kindness than to see him often beleaguered by little children: they only beg where they get something.

If any poor neighbour was in want, and Abe had any means of assisting him, he would not wait to be asked. Many a time he has gone home to Sally and told her of some poor creatures who had no bread in the house, and then he would wind up his tale of sorrow with, "Naa, lass, we'll be loike to tak' 'em a loaf," whereupon the good woman would go to the cupboard and take out a big family loaf, and hand it to him, and he would hurry away to gladden the hearts of the hungry children.

People do not need to be rich to exhibit the spirit of true generosity, because it is not so much in the amount given, as in the spirit in which it is done, and the sacrifice involved in the act. It is a truly noble thing for a wealthy man to bestow of his abundance on the needy around him, and he who does so is sure to gain a place in the affections of the people. Everyone admires a liberal man; indeed, it is questionable whether admiration for this quality may not sometimes blind us to other things in the same persons which are actual faults, and hence a man may be intemperate or profane or worldly, and people say, "Well, but he is such a generous fellow," and that is taken as mitigation of his faults: thus he is allowed to indulge in many wrongs, because he has one excellency in his character. Men are not often impartial judges; their minds are warped by unduly regarding one virtue more than another, and consequently their verdict on character is not always reliable. Give a benevolent man his full meed of honour, but let not his liberal gifts become the purchase price at which he may obtain indulgence for other sins, or he makes morality only a mockery.

Generosity is an essential mark of the Christian character, and should display itself in every follower of our Lord. This is the spirit which prompted the poor of the Lord's flock to share their scanty means among their poorer brethren, and therefore, though Abe Lockwood was never in his life worth many shillings at one time, he was one among a multitude of humble and generous spirits moving in the lower walks of life, who often enjoy the pleasure of relieving the wants of sufferers around them.

"A GOOD NAME IS BETTER THAN GREAT RICHES."

Among the people in his own locality no one stood in better repute than Little Abe. If any sick person wanted spiritual direction or comfort they would send for Little Abe. He was quite at home in the sick-room; the sight of his bright genial face would be sure to cheer the sufferer: and then he knew so well how to lead the penitent sinner to the Saviour, that the gloom of many a bedside has been dispelled by his humble ministrations in this way.

He loved this work, and gave a great amount of his spare time in visiting the sick. He was ready to go anywhere, any time, night or day, that he might help to sustain the soul in the last trial of faith; and many an hour has he sat by the bedside of some dying neighbour, talking, singing, praying, and trying to cheer him through the valley of death.

The little Bishop was general religious factotum in his own village, and especially among those who were in any way connected with Salem Chapel. In baptisms and burials he was held by many in as high repute as the regular ministers. Often it happened that he was fetched by some troubled parent to baptize a dying child, and he would perform the rite with as great satisfaction to the friends, in his blue smock and clogs, as he could have done had he worn the white neckcloth, and passed through ordination honours.

"WILT TA KNUG?" (KNEEL).

A man came one evening to Abe's house, knocked at the door, then opened it a little way, thrust in his face and said, "Is Abe in?" It was a most unusual thing to see that man there, for he was a wicked, drunken character, a trouble to the neighbourhood where he lived, and often a terror to his poor wife and children. Many a time Abe had tried to induce him to go to the Lord's house and begin to lead a new life; but sin had such a hold upon him that he only made light of everything good, and, in his ignorance and hardihood, professed to disbelieve in God and His Word.

"Is Abe in?" asked the face at the door.

"Yes, I'm here," replied the little man in question, looking up from his Bible, and peering over the lamp on the table to see who the speaker was, "Come in, mon; open th' door and come in."

And in a little further came the face and head, followed by a pair of broad shoulders and a huge body, whereupon Abe saw who they belonged to, and rising from his seat he noticed that the great hard face was clouded and softened with sorrow. Ah, it is a hard heart that does not melt sometimes.

"What's ta want?" asked Abe, in a kind tone.

"Arr bit bairn 's badly," replied the big man, "and th' missus wants the' to come and sprinkle it."

"Th' missus want me does she,—and what does thaa want?" said Abe, looking meaningly at him. "Does thaa want me to come?"

"Ay," responded the man, looking rather humble, and feeling that Abe had obtained his first victory by that confession.

"Well, I'll goa wi' the'," and, putting on his hat, they went out together, and betook themselves to the dwelling of the visitor. Arriving there Abe beheld a painful yet by no means uncommon picture. A room miserably furnished, and not the ghost of comfort anywhere; several little ragged children stood grouped together, and in the midst of them was the saddest figure of all—"the missus," the wife, the mother, in tears, and on her lap, wrapped in an old faded shawl, was a dying infant. The woman tried to smile amid her tears as Abe came in, just the shadow of a smile, and then her poor face settled again to that look of anguish it had before, as if all her meagre joy were slowly dying with that little creature that lay feebly gasping on her lap. It was so like a woman to remember amid her grief, to give a sign of welcome to her visitor.

"Aye, my lass, I'm real sorry for the'; thaa has a mother's heart, I see, and thaa'd loike to keep thee bairn, I knaw thaa wad; but thaa mun remember God has first claim on 't, and if He wants it, thaa'll be loike to let Him ha' it. He can tak' better care on 't nor thaa can; bless it, it'll sooin be better off nor ony on us—don't fret, my lass—th' Lord comfort the'." And so in this way Little Abe went on talking, softening, comforting, and strengthening the bitter heart of that poor woman; at length he said, "Thaa wants me to baptize th' little un, I reckon."

"If yo' pleeas," she replied. "Jack," added she turning to her husband, who stood all the time with his back to the table, trying hard to keep his eyes dry and swallow down a lump that was continually rising into his throat, "get a basin o' watter, my lad." It was said so sadly and yet so kindly, that if Jack had had to go through fire to fetch that basin of water he would have got it. In a minute or two he came with the basin in his big broad hand and stood close up to his wife's side, looking down on his dying child.

"This is a religious service," said Abe, "and I want yo' to understand that." He had his doubts about the man, notwithstanding his evident effort to control his emotions; he knew the man's sinful character, knew his hostility to everything religious, and now that he had him to something like an advantage, he wanted to make the most of it. "I'm baan to baptize that bairn in God's name, and we mun kneel daan and pray for it;" and then looking at the father he said, "Wilt ta knug" (kneel) "daan with us?"

The man made no answer, but still kept by his wife's side, looking down on the infant.

"Wilt ta knug with us, Jack?" he repeated; "it's thy bairn, and it'll sooin be gone." Still there came no reply; a conflict was going on in the breast of that strong man, the wicked man of the world was contending against the father.

"If thaa will n't knug beside the' wife and bairns, I'll go haam agean," said Abe.

The man was conquered; the devil was strong in him, but the father was stronger. He could not bear the thought of paying a slight to his dying child. "I'll knug," said he, and that instant he full on his knees. Abe baptized the child, and then all of them knelt together, while he poured out his soul in earnest supplication to God for the child and the family; but especially for the father who was now, almost for the first time in his life, found humbly kneeling at the throne of grace. It would have been very gratifying if we could say that this was the turning-point in that man's life; but here our knowledge of the case ends. It is, however, not too much to hope that the memory of that sad night, coupled with the loss of the little child, would have a good influence on the subsequent life of the man, and perhaps be the means, under God, of leading him to seek that grace which alone could afford him hope of meeting his child again in the kingdom of glory.

Whether this was so or not, the incident shows the high esteem in which Little Abe was held by the people among whom he lived. We see that he gained a decided advantage over the hardened sinner when he constrained him to kneel before the Lord; and it also shows that when scoffers and so-called unbelievers are brought into the shadows of death, their unbelief forsakes them, and like devils, "they believe and tremble."

It was no uncommon thing for Abe to be called out of the mill to conduct the burial service at Salem, in place of the minister, who perhaps had never been informed of the funeral, or even of the death. No matter, poor man, he has sadly lowered himself in the opinion of the family and friends by not being present. He might have known he would be wanted, and at what time of the day, and in what place, and it is very unkind of him not to be there. Where is he? Poor innocent, he is tramping off to a distant country appointment in simple ignorance of the misdemeanour of which he is guilty. A minister ought to know everything—know who is well and who is not; ministers are different from all other people, and more is expected from them. If, for instance, any one is ill, the doctor must be sent for; but the minister is expected to come without being requested. It is his duty to attend to the sick of his flock. It is no matter whether he knows of the illness or not, he ought to know of it; a pretty shepherd he must be not to know if any of his sheep are ill; he should make inquiries for himself among the people. Are any persons dead here, or any sick? any to be prayed for? or are there any disaffected parties waiting to be coaxed into a good humour? any croakers in want of a good subject to vent their bile upon? or anything at all in the general ministerial way that wants doing? A man could easily find out what is going on, and what is going off, with a little ingenuity and perseverance; and it would save all the trouble and expense of a post card to the minister asking him to call. Let us hope, therefore, that in future there will be no misunderstanding upon these important matters, because every place in the land is not favoured with such an able, willing, and acceptable substitute as the people of Berry Brow had in Little Abe.

Reference has already been made to the esteem with which he was regarded by his fellow-work-people. As years went on this regard was, if possible, intensified, and it was beautiful to see how the younger men in the mill would strive to lighten his work, and make his duties as easy for him as possible. Nor was this kindly feeling confined to the mill operatives; his masters, gentlemen of high position in the locality, held him in great esteem, for they knew him to be a honest, upright man, and a faithful servant. He had, in his latter days, many liberties and favours which could not be permitted to their employes generally; often one or another of his masters would come into the mill, and have a few minutes' conversation with him about his work as a preacher, and his religious zeal, enlivened by his irrepressible humour, almost invariably sent the master away with his face covered with smiles, and his good opinion of the Little Bishop confirmed.