{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_19990/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_19990","id":"gutenberg_19990","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/19990","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Biographies","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Lockwood, Abraham, 1792-1871","Methodist Church -- Bishops -- England -- Biography"],"text":"Produced by Al Haines\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Frontispiece: Abraham Lockwood.]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE ABE;\n\nOR,\n\n_THE BISHOP OF BERRY BROW_.\n\n\n\nBEING THE LIFE OF\n\nABRAHAM LOCKWOOD,\n\n_A Quaint and Popular Yorkshire Local Preacher\n  in the Methodist New Connexion._\n\n\n\nBY\n\nF. JEWELL.\n\n\n\nTWENTY-SECOND THOUSAND.\n\n\n\nLondon:\n\nPUBLISHED FOR THE PROPRIETOR,\n\nROBERT CULLEY,\n\n25-35 CITY ROAD, AND 26 PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.\n\n\n\n\nAbraham Pilling, Esq.,\n\nASTLEY BRIDGE,\n\nBOLTON,\n\nI DEDICATE TO YOU THIS RECORD OF THE\n\nLIFE AND LABOURS OF ONE WHOSE WORTH YOU KNEW\n\nAND APPRECIATED, AS A\n\nMARK OF ESTEEM FOR YOUR ZEALOUS EXERTIONS\n\nTO\n\nADVANCE THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\nI desire to express my thanks to all those friends who have kindly\nassisted me in collecting materials for these pages; and I am\nespecially indebted to my friends the Rev. T. D. Crothers and the Rev.\nW. J. Townsend for the cheerful services they have rendered me in\npreparing the little work for printing.\n\nWhilst trying to give a faithful account of the life and character of\nAbraham Lockwood, I have done my best to make the narrative both\nreadable and profitable; but I am sensible that there are many faults\nin the volume.  Such as it is, however, I humbly offer it to the\npublic, with the earnest prayer that it may prove a blessing to many.\n\nF. JEWELL.\n\nBETHEL VILLA,\n\nHULL, 1880.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nBIRTH AND PARENTAGE\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nEARLY INCIDENTS\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nHIS CONVERSION\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nABE A NEW CHARACTER IN THE VILLAGE\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nIN MEMBERSHIP WITH THE CHURCH\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\n\"FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE\"\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nWIND AND TIDE AGAINST\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nTHE CLOUDS BEGIN TO BREAK\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nSALEM CHAPEL\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nABE BECOMES A LOCAL PREACHER\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nIN PRACTICE\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\n\"BUTTERFLY PREACHERS\"\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nVARIOUS WAYS OUT OF DIFFICULTIES\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nABE'S TITLES AND TROUBLES\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nA BASKET OF FRAGMENTS\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\n\"I AM A WONDER UNTO MANY\"\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nABE AS A CLASS LEADER\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\n\"WORKING OVERTIME\"\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nMETHODIST LOVEFEAST\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\nPATIENT IN TRIBULATION\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\n\"THE LIBERAL DEVISETH LIBERAL THINGS\"\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII.\n\nUSED UP\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII.\n\n\"BETTER IS THE END OF A THING THAN THE BEGINNING\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nBirth and Parentage.\n\nAbraham Lockwood was born on the 3rd November, 1792.  His birthplace,\nalso called Lockwood, is situated about a mile and half out of\nHuddersfield.\n\nIt makes no pretensions to importance in any way.  The only public\nbuilding which it boasts, is the Mechanics' Institute, a structure of\nmoderate size, yet substantially built.  Its one main street is lined\nwith some very excellent shops, some of whose owners, report says, have\nmade a nice little competency there.  It still boasts a toll-bar of its\nown, which is guarded on either side by two white wooden posts, that\ntake the liberty of preventing all cattle, horses, and asses from\nevading the gate, and of unceremoniously squeezing into the narrowest\nlimits every person who prefers pavement to the highroad.  Lockwood is\nalso important enough to receive the attention of two or three 'buses\nwhich ply to and fro between there and Huddersfield, as well as to have\nthe honour of a railway station on the L. and Y. line.  Of course years\nago, when Abraham Lockwood was brought into the world, this locality\nwas not so attractive as it now is; only a few cottages straggled along\nthe level or up the hill towards Berry Brow, mostly inhabited by\nweavers and others employed in the cloth manufacture of the\nneighbourhood.  Among these humble cottages there stood, on what is\nknown as the Scarr, one even more unpretentious than the rest: it\nboasted only one story and two or three rooms in all; it was what Abe\nused to call a \"one-decker.\"\n\nIn this little hut dwelt the parents of Abe Lockwood; the fact of their\nresiding in such a humble home, shows sufficiently that they were poor,\nperhaps poorer than their neighbours.  However, in that same\nsingle-storied cot in Lockwood, Abe Lockwood was born, a Lockwoodite by\ndouble right, and though age has seriously told upon its appearance, it\nstands to this day.  We sometimes see little old men living on, and\nyear by year growing less and less, until we begin to speculate about\nthe probable time it will require at their rate of diminution for\nnothing to remain of them; and the same may be said of the little old\nhouse in which Abe Lockwood was born; it was always little, but as\nyears have slowly added to its age, it has gradually begun to look\nless, and now, as other houses of larger size and more improved style\nhave sprung up all around the neighbourhood, it has shrunk into the\nmost diminutive little hut that can well be imagined as a dwelling\nhouse, and it only requires time enough for it to be gone altogether.[1]\n\nAbe's parents were a poor but honest pair, and laboured hard to make\nends meet.  William Lockwood, his father, was a cloth-dresser, and\nworked on Almondbury common, about a mile from his home, earning but a\nscanty living for the family.  In those days, when machinery was almost\nunknown in the manufacture and finish of cloth, the men had to work\nharder and longer and earned much less than now.  Those were the times\nwhen hard-working men thought that the introduction of machinery into\ncloth mills would take all the work out of their hands, and all the\nbread out of their mouths; and this was the very locality where the\ngreatest hostility was shown by the people to such innovations.  Many a\nthreatened outbreak was heard of about that time, and in two or three\ninstances the smouldering fire in the men's minds actually burst forth\ninto riot and rising, when they found that the great masters were\ndetermined to have their own way and introduce machinery into their\nmills.  Abe himself was led, some years after, to take part in one of\nthese risings, and narrowly escaped the hands of the law, while several\nothers were lodged for some time in York jail in recognition of the\npart they had taken in the riots.\n\nAbe's father was a quiet, moral-living man, whose chief aim for many\nyears seemed to be to provide for his own household; but in after times\nhis thoughts were drawn to things higher as well, and he became a\nGod-fearing man; yet during Abe's early life, the most that can be said\nfor his father is that he was an honest, hard-working, and\nwell-disposed man.\n\nHis mother was a good Christian woman, and was for a long time a member\nwith the Methodists in Huddersfield, and attended the old chapel which\nformerly stood on Chapel Hill.  There is no doubt that the early\nteaching of his kind and pious mother had a great deal to do with the\nformation of Abe's Christian character in after years.  Certainly a\nlong time elapsed before there was any sign of spiritual life in her\nson; indeed, she was called away to her eternal rest before there was\nany indication of good in his heart; what matters that? the good seed\nwas there; it would bide its time and then grow all the stronger.\nSometimes people conclude that because there is not immediate growth\nthere is no life; this does not follow; the grain may slumber for\nyears, then wake up and grow rapidly.  I on one occasion saved some\norange pippins, dried and planted them with the hope that they might\ngrow; as time went on, I watered and watched them, but there was no\nindication of growth; months went by: I lost heart, gave over watering,\nthrew the plant-pot in which they were sown out of doors; a year was\ngone by and more, when one day my eye fell on this same pot all covered\nwith green growth.  \"Hey! what's this?\" why, positively, they are young\norange plants, standing up hardy and healthy, protesting against my\nwant of faith and patience.  It is often the same with the growth of\nother seed in the human breast; when parents have waited long in vain,\ntheir faith grows gradually less and less, until it dies out in\ndespair; but the good seed may not die, it is sleeping, it lives its\nwinter life, and then under the tender and genial touch of some\nspring-like influences it begins to grow.  \"Be not afraid, only\nbelieve,\" said the Master of the vineyard.\n\nWhy the young baby that had come to reside in that little cot should\nhave the honourable name of Abraham may be a subject of question by\nsome.  It evidently was not to perpetuate his father's name, though\nfrom the beginning of generations this has been a sufficient argument\nfor calling son after father; on that ground John Baptist had a narrow\nescape from being called Zacharias.  That however could not influence\nthe decision in Abraham Lockwood's case, because his father's name was\nWilliam.  Perhaps it was that the child indicated a patriarchal spirit,\nand conducted himself like a _stranger in a strange land_, in which\ncase there might be a suggestion of that name.  Perhaps it was a piece\nof parental forethought, for knowing well that they could never confer\nriches upon him, or place him in a position to make them himself, they\ndetermined to do that for him, which everyone must say is far better,\nthey would see to it that he had a _good name_ among men, and so they\ncalled him Abraham.  This ancient and venerable name, however, soon\nunderwent a transformation, and appeared in the undignified form of\n\"Abe.\"  The alteration at least exhibited a mark of economy, even if it\ninvolved the sacrifice of good taste; there certainly was a saving of\ntime in saying \"Abe\" instead of \"Abraham,\" which is very important when\nthings have to be done in a hurry; and then it may be that to some ears\nit would sound more musical and familiar than the full-length\ndesignation.  Howbeit, there always seemed a strange contrariness\nbetween Abe and his name.  When he was a baby they called him by the\nantiquated name of \"Abraham.\"  As he grew older and bigger, they\nshortened his name to \"Abe,\" and when he was a full-grown man, and\nfather of a family, he was commonly known as \"Little Abe.\"  The name\nand the bearer seemed to have started to run a circle in contrary\ndirections, till they met exactly at the opposite point in old age,\nwhen for the first time there was seen the fitness between the man and\nhis name, and he was respectfully called \"Abraham Lockwood.\"\n\n\n\n[1] Since the above was written, this little cottage has been removed\nto afford room for a larger building.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nEarly Incidents.\n\nNothing particular is reported of his early life in that little home;\nthere are no accounts of any hair-breadth escapes from being run over\nby cart-wheels, or of his being nearly burnt to death while playing\nwith the kitchen fire, or of his straying away from home and taking to\nthe adjacent woods, and the whole neighbourhood being out in quest of\nhim, or that he even, during this interesting period of his history,\neither fell headlong into a coal-pit, or wandered out of his depth in\nthe canal near by; there is, however, every probability, considering\nhis lively disposition, that his mother had her time pretty well\noccupied in keeping him within bounds.\n\nOn reaching the notable age of six years, a very important change came\nover the even course of his young life.  His parents sent him to work\nin a coal-pit; people in these days will scarcely credit such a thing,\nbut it is nevertheless true; nor was this an extraordinary case, for\nchildren of poor parents were commonly sent to work in the pits at that\nearly age, when Abe was a child.  The work which they did was not\ndifficult; perhaps it might be the opening or shutting of a door in one\nof the drifts; but whatever it was our hearts revolt at the idea of\nsending a child of such tender years into a coal mine, and thanks to\nthe advance of civilization, and an improved legislation on these\nthings, such an enormity would not now be permitted.\n\nIn some dark corner of that deep mine poor little Abe was found day by\nday doing the work assigned to him, and earning a trifle of wages which\nhelped to keep bread in the little home at Lockwood Scarr.  He went out\nearly in the morning, and came home late at night, with the men who\nwrought in the same pit, his little hands and feet often benumbed with\ncold and wet, and he so tired with his toils that many a time his poor\nmother has had to lift him out of bed of a morning, and put his little\ngrimy suit of clothes on him, and send him off with the rest almost\nbefore the child was awake.  Many a time he was so weary on coming out\nof the pit that he has not been able to drag himself along home, and\nsome kind collier seeing his tears has lifted him on his shoulder and\ncarried him, while he has slept there as soundly as if on a bed of down.\n\nSome few years passed on, during which time Abe continued to work in\nthe coal pit with but little change, except that as he grew older and\nstronger he was put to other work, and earned a better wage.  His\nparents, however, were not satisfied that their son should live and die\na collier, they thought him capable of something else; besides that,\nthere were always the dangers associated with that calling in which so\nmany were maimed or killed.  They therefore determined that their son\nshould be a mechanic, and learn to earn his bread above ground.  After\na while they found a master who was willing to take him into his employ\nand teach him his handicraft.  It was customary in those days for a\nmaster to take the apprentice to live with him in his house, and find\nhim in food and clothes.  So Abe was given over to his new master, with\nthe hope that he would do well for him, and the boy would turn out a\ngood servant.\n\nNow it is quite possible all this was done by the kind parents without\nconsulting Abe's mind on the subject, which certainly had a good deal\nto do with the realization of their hopes, more perhaps than they\nthought; however they soon discovered it, for in a day or two Abe\nreturned home with the information that he didn't like it, and should\nnot be bound to any man.  It was a sad disappointment to the honest\npair, who had begun to indulge in expectations that some time \"aar Abe\nmay be mester hissen;\" they however saw that it was of no use pressing\nhim to go back, and so they compromised the matter by setting about to\nfind him another master.  Abe was again despatched from home with many\na kind word of advice, and the hope that he would mind his work, learn\nthe trade, and turn out to be a good man.  But what was their surprise\nand pain at the end of about a week to see Abe walk into the house\nagain with a bundle in his hand.  \"Oh, Abe, my lad, what's brought thee\nhere so sooin? what's ta gotton in th' bundle?\" exclaimed his mother.\n\"Why, gotton my things to be sure; I couldn't leave them behind when\nI'm going back no maar;\" and sure enough he had come home with the\ninformation as before, he didn't like being bound to any man.\n\nThe probability is that there was something in the kind of treatment\nAbe met with in both those cases that helped to set his mind so much\nagainst the life of an apprentice away from home.  All masters in those\ndays were not particularly kind in their manners towards apprentices:\nsome honourable exceptions could easily be found no doubt, but as a\nrule, boys in such positions were not very kindly used; hard work from\nearly morning to late at night, hard fare at meal times, hard cuffs\nbetween meals, and a hard bed with scanty covering at nights,--it was\nno very enviable position for a youth to occupy, and certainly not one\nto which a spirited lad would quietly submit.  It may be that Abe,\nduring the short probations he had served at these two places, had\nlearnt too much of the ways of the establishments for so young a\nhireling, and found they would not suit his peculiar tastes, and\ntherefore he decided twice over to return home, bringing his bundle of\nclothes without giving any explanations or notice to any one.\n\nBe that as it may, here he was at home again a second time, much to the\nannoyance of his father, who was bent upon the lad learning some\nhandicraft.  Abe remained at home a short time, when one day his father\ntold him he had got another place for him, with an excellent man, who\nwould take him a little while on trial, and if they liked each other he\nmight then be indentured.  His father had been at some trouble to find\na master farther away from home, in the hope that when once Abe was a\ngood way off he might be induced to stay; in this he was acting on the\nprinciple that the power of attraction is weakened by a wider radius,\nwhich may be correct when applied to some things, but not to all.  This\nnew master lived in Lancashire, and thither young Abraham was sent in\ndue course.  A month or so passed away, and all seemed to promise a\nsatisfactory arrangement, until one morning Abe heard a conversation in\nthe family, from which he gathered that his master was going to\nMarsden, where he expected to meet Mr. Lockwood at a certain inn, and\nmake final arrangements for Abe's apprenticeship.  This opened the old\nsore; Abe couldn't rest: \"he wouldn't stay, that he wouldn't, he would\nbe off home;\" but how was he to get there? he didn't know the way, and\nthirty miles or more was a long journey in those days.  He determined\ntherefore to keep his eye on his master until he saw him off for\nMarsden, which was more than half the distance to his home, and then he\nset away after him on the same road, never losing sight of him for one\nminute.  On they went mile after mile along the roads until they\nreached Marsden, where he saw his master enter the inn.  Now Abe had to\npass in front of this very house, but he didn't want to be discovered,\nso he adroitly turned up his coat collar over the side of his face, and\npulled down his cap, and set off running as fast as he could, and just\nas he was passing the inn he took one hurried look from under his mask,\nand there, in the open window, he saw two men side by side, his master\nand his father.  Of course he concluded they must have seen him, and\nwould be out immediately to fetch him back; this idea only lent speed\nto his weary feet, so that he ran faster than ever on through the\nsolitary street of the old village, away out on the road, never turning\nto look behind, lest he might see all Marsden coming in pursuit of him.\nExhausted nature however at length compelled him to slacken his pace,\nand on turning to look back he found he had only been pursued by his\nown fears.  The two men sat still in the inn, talking over and settling\nthe terms of the apprenticeship, fixing the time when the indenture\nshould be signed and the boy bound to his new master.  Each of them\ntook his journey homeward; neither of them was prepared for what\nawaited him.  One of them found on arriving home that Abe had gone, and\nthe other discovered the very opposite, that he had come, and both were\nalike vexed.\n\nIt is likely that poor Abe would have had to trot back again the next\nday if his mother had not taken his part.  Dear woman, she had been a\nwhole month without seeing her boy, and many an anxious thought had she\nabout him during that period; many a time when her fond heart yearned\nfor him, she had well nigh said she wished they had never sent him\naway; many a time when some foot had been heard at the door her heart\nstopped at the thought, that it might be him; and now that he had come,\nreally come, had run so far to be near her, had come so weary,\nfootsore, and hungry, had laid his weary head on the end of the table\nand wept tears of trouble and pleasure, had fallen asleep there as he\nsat, she put her kind arms around him, kissed his hot forehead and\nsaid, \"Dear lad, they shall not take him away from his mother any more\nfor all the masters and trades in the land.\"  So it was of no use that\nMr. Lockwood should argue for his going back; he had to yield\ninevitably, for what man can think to contend long against his _better_\nhalf?  From that time all attempt to bring Abraham up as an artificer\nended, and he found employment with his father as a cloth-finisher, at\nwhich he worked most of his lifetime afterwards.\n\nSoon after these stirring little events had gone by, another happened\nin that household which brought far more pain and anxiety than anything\nthat had preceded it.  The youth who would not be parted from his\nmother, could not prevent his mother from leaving him, and the\nseparation took place; death stept in, and without regard to the fond\nfeelings which bound that little household together, bore away the wife\nand mother to the spirit land, while her body was laid among the dust\nof others in the yard of the old brick chapel in Chapel Hill,\nHuddersfield.\n\nWhat a gap it made in that house! in the hearts of its inmates it left\nan open wound which only long months of patient endurance could heal.\nWhen a mother's dust is carried out and laid in the grave, it is the\nlight of the domestic hearth gone out; it is the sweetest string gone\nfrom the family harp; that bereavement is like the breath of winter\namong tender flowers; the live tree around which entwined tender\ncreepers is torn up, and they lie entangled on the ground, disconsolate\nand helpless, until the Great Father of us all shall give them strength\nto stand alone.\n\nAbraham Lockwood's mother was dead, and a kind restraining hand, which\nmany a time kept his wild and wayward spirit in subjection, was thereby\nwithdrawn, and the ill effects in time began to show themselves in his\nconduct.  As he grew older, and the trouble consequent on the loss of\nhis mother wore off, Abe gradually associated with evil companions,\nfell into their habits, until he became a wild and wicked young man.\nHe never sank into those low habits of which some are guilty, who\nneglect the appearance and cleanliness of their own person, and go\nabout on Sundays and weekdays unwashed and in their working attire.\nAbe had more respect for himself, and was always looked upon among his\nfriends as a dandy.  I have heard old people say he was a proud young\nman, and withal of a very sprightly appearance.\n\nAbe took great pride in his personal appearance, and when not in his\nworking clothes he usually wore a blue coat in the old dress style,\nsuch as \"Father Taylor\" would call \"a gaf-topsail jacket.\"  There were\nthe usual and attractive brass buttons to the coat, drab knee-breeches,\nblue stockings, low tied shoes with buckles; and really everyone who\nknew Abe thought he was a proud young man.  Perhaps he was, but it is\nnot always an indication of pride when young people bestow more care\nupon their appearance than do their fellows; it may arise from a desire\nto appear respectable and be respected.  No one will think I am trying\nto extenuate the foolish and extravagant love of dress which some\npeople show, who adorn themselves in silks or broadcloth, for which\nthey have to go into debt without the means of paying.  Some are most\nunsparing in the way they lavish money on their own persons, but only\nask them to bestow something on a charitable institution, or on the\ncause of God, and how poor they are; how careful not to be guilty of\nthe sin of _extravagance_; how anxious not to be _generous before being\njust_.\n\nThere is a propriety which ought to be observed with regard to dress as\nwell as other things, and it will commend itself to the judgment as\nwell as to the eye.  Some young people are the very opposite to Abe;\nthey bestow scanty attentions on their appearance,--how can they think\nthat any one else will pay them any regard?  Their appearance is like\nthe index to a book; you see in a minute what the work contains, and so\nyou may generally form a correct idea of the character of an individual\nby his habitual personal appearance.  \"Character shows through,\" is a\ngood saying, and would make a profitable study for most of us; it shows\nthrough the skin, the dress, the manners, the speech, through\neverything; people ought to remember this, and it would have a good\ninfluence on their conduct.\n\nA few years after his mother's death his father married again, and\nremoved about a mile further up the hill, to a place called Berry Brow.\nThis village is situated about two miles out of Huddersfield, and is\nthe notable place where \"little Abe\" spent the greater part of his\ndays.  It stands on the brow of a hill which bounds one side of the\nwealthy and picturesque valley that winds along from Huddersfield to\nPenistone.  It boasts one main street, which sidles along down the\nhill-side with here and there a clever curve, just enough to prevent\nyou from taking a full-length view of the street; on and down it goes,\nthe houses on the one side looking down on those opposite, and\nevidently having the advantages of being higher up in the world than\ntheir neighbours, until it terminates in the highroad leading out of\nthe village towards Honley and Penistone.\n\nRun your eye down over the breast of the hill, and you have a\ndelightful landscape picture, comprising almost everything which an\nartist would deem desirable for an effective painting, and a _little to\nspare_.  There, nearly at the bottom of the gradient, stands the\nhandsome old village church, with its tower and pinnacles, reaching up\namong the tall trees; and around it, a consecrated enclosure, guarding\nthe monuments of the dead, which are mingled with melancholy shrubs,\nplanted there by hands of mourners whose memories of the departed are\nfitly symbolized by those perpetual evergreens.  On this side and\nbeyond the sleeping graveyard, on either arm, are scattered, in pretty\nconfusion, the houses of those who have retired from the main street\nfor the sake of a little garden plot or other convenience.  Now there\nis some pretence at a terrace, numbering two or three dwellings; then\nan abrupt break, and houses stand independent and alone as if quietly\ncontemplating the lovely scenery of valley, hill, and forest, which are\nvisible from that spot.  Down there in the bottom of the valley, stand\nthose mighty many-windowed cloth mills, whose great flat, unspeakable\nfaces, seem to be covered all over with spectacles, out of which they\ncan look for ever without winking; there the men, women, and children,\nborn and bred in the hills, find honest toil with which to win bread\nand comforts; while with a twisting course there runs along the wealthy\ndale a little river, from which these giant mills suck up their daily\ndrink.  Across the narrow valley and you are into a dense woody growth,\nwhich climbs the hills to their very crown, and sweeps away, mingling\nwith the sky.\n\nTo this village the Lockwood family removed; and coming more directly\nunder religious influences, the father very soon became converted, and\nunited with the Methodist Church, along with his wife.  This had a\ngreat influence on Abe for good; he began to attend the Sunday-school,\nwhich was conducted in a room, in what was called the Steps Mill, on\nthe road between Berry Brow and Honley.  This was Abe's college; here\nhe began, and here he finished his education; no other school did he\never attend; and for what little knowledge he had, he was indebted to\nthe kindness of those who taught in that school; yet all he learnt here\nwas to _read_.  _Writing_ was a branch of study which Abe thought\naltogether beyond his power; many times he endeavoured to learn the\nmysterious art, but after struggling on as far as the stage of pothooks\nand crooks, he gave up in disgust, and never tried again.  He used to\nsay he firmly believed the Lord never meant him to be a writer, or he\nwould have given him a talent for it.  Now in this Abe was certainly\nlabouring under a false impression, and underrating his own ability; he\nwas as well able to learn the art of writing as many others in similar\ncircumstances.  How many persons have we known who have grown up to\nmanhood and womanhood, before they knew one letter from another, and\nyet they have commenced to learn, and persevered in the work, until\nthey have attained at least a moderate proficiency, and some even more\nthan that.  What Abe lacked more than talent, was a determination to\nlearn; for if he had been resolved, he could have become a good penman\nas well as others; in this he was to blame, whether he thought so or\nnot.  Education can only be had by those who will work for it, and\nconsidering its immense value to every person, all who neglect it are\nblameworthy, and must pay the penalties, as Abe did all through his\nlife.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nHis Conversion.\n\nPeople talk of great changes in life, and point to periods and events\nwhich seem to have turned their whole course into a different channel;\nbut there is nothing that can happen to any individual which will make\nsuch an alteration in his life _as conversion_.  Thousands of persons\nwho had been almost useless in the world, after that event have become\nvaluable members of society; others who have neglected and abused their\ntalents and opportunities, have become thoughtful and diligent; others\nwho have lived in riot and sin, wasting the energies of body and mind,\nhave learnt to live at peace with all men, and walk in the fear of God\nand hope of heaven.  Having become new creatures, they have shown it in\nevery line of their conduct.  \"Old things have passed away, and behold,\nall things have become new.\"\n\nIt was never more strikingly illustrated than in the case of Abraham\nLockwood.  For a length of time after he had begun to attend\nSunday-school, there was a manifest difference in Abe's manner.  Not\nthat he was really living a better life, for he was just as sinful as\nbefore, only he was _not now thoughtless_; he might go to the ale-house\nwith his associates, but he went home to think about it after; he might\nswear and laugh like the rest of them when they were together, but he\nwas no sooner alone than he felt the stings of a remorseful conscience;\nhe was gradually getting into that state when a man dreads to be alone\nwith himself; there was always something speaking to him from within,\nand the voice was getting stronger and stronger every week, till\nsometimes it fairly startled him, and made him afraid; often he would\ntry to run away from it, but it was of no use; the moment he stopped,\npanting from the exertion, it was there again; many a time he tried to\ndeaden the voice in the deafening noise of the mill, but the more he\nendeavoured to destroy it, by some mysterious contradiction, the more\nintently he found himself listening for it; it spoilt all the pleasures\nof sin by its presence; it was with him night and day; it followed him\nin his sleep, and was waiting for him when he awoke; it made him\nmiserable.  Poor Abe was _under conviction of sin_; he was tasting the\nwormwood of a guilty conscience, than which nothing is more dreadful,\nand nothing is more hopeful, because it is the bitter that oft worketh\nitself sweet; it was so with Abe.  While he was in this state of mind,\nthe Rev. David Stoner came to preach in the Wesleyan Chapel at\nAlmondbury.  His fame drew many to hear him, and among the rest Abraham\nLockwood.  He went partly out of curiosity, and partly in the hope of\ngetting relief to his mind; however, he only came away worse than\nbefore; he was miserable, and it now began to show itself to his\ncompanions.  \"Pain will out,\" like murder.  \"What's the matter, Abe?\"\nthey would say to him.  \"Oh, nothing particular,\" he would reply.  And\nthen among themselves they said, \"Abe looks very queer, he's ill;\" then\nthey tried to enliven him.  \"Come, cheer up, old boy, we'll have a\nyarn.\"  One would tell some droll tale, and another would say something\ncomical in order to make him laugh; and laugh he did, he must laugh; it\nwould never do to let those fellows know what was passing in his mind;\nso he laughed loud as any of them, but what a laugh!--how empty and\nhollow, how joyless and unreal, how unlike his former bursts of\nfeeling!--a got-up laugh, which shewed plainer than ever _something was\nwrong_.  Abe knew it, and he felt it was of no use trying any longer to\nkeep up a sham happiness, and all the time be in torments from a guilty\nconscience; he therefore resolved to give up sin and lead a new life.\nHe probably was hastened to that decision by a remark which fell from\nhis father's lips; the old man had noticed for some time that Abe was\nnot in his usual spirits.  He would come home of an evening and sit\nlooking into the fire for an hour without speaking or moving; he had\ngiven over singing in the house, and he seemed as if he hadn't spirit\nenough left to whistle to the little bird in the cage; his meals lay\nalmost untasted, and his tea would go cold before he had taken any.\n\n\"Come, my lad, thaa mun get thee tea thaa knows,\" said the old father\none evening.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Abe, as he pretended to push something into his mouth.\n\n\"What's matter with th'?\" the father inquired; \"thaa's not like\ntheesen, nor hasn't been for mony a week.\"\n\nAbe's eyes grew moist, and his chin trembled, but he called himself to\norder, no babyism now.\n\nThe old man, still looking at him, and keen enough to notice the\nstruggle he had to master his feelings, went on to say, \"Thaa's poorly,\nmy lad, thaa mun goa to th' doctor, and see if he canna gie thee\nsome'at.\"\n\n\"No earthly doctor can do onything for me,\" answered Abe; \"it's th'\nPhysician of souls that I want.  Oh, father, I am unhappy; my sins are\ntroubling me noight and day; I don't know what will become of me: _I\nfeel like lost_.\"\n\n\"My poor lad, the Lord have mercy on thee,\" replied the old man, as Abe\nput on his cap and walked hurriedly out of the house.  He went out\nscarcely knowing why; perhaps to hide his trouble from his dear old\nfather; perhaps to smother his emotions, which were rapidly gaining the\nmastery over him, or maybe he knew not why,--an impulse was upon him,\nand it carried him forth into the cool evening air; away he went at a\nbrisk walk from the village in the direction of Almondbury common.\nFaster and faster he went, faster and faster as if to keep up with the\nrapid current of his thoughts; the distance was uncounted, the\ndirection unheeded, the time forgotten; one thought only occupied his\ntempest-torn mind, what must he do to be saved!  There are some who\nwould think him very foolish to give himself so much concern on a\nmatter of that sort; but the fact is, Abe was just beginning to act the\npart of a wise man in renouncing his old habits and declaring for\nChrist.  No human eye followed him on that lonely walk to the common,\nand no human friend accompanied him; he was alone, the thought pleased\nhim; he looked around all over the face of the common, but no person\nwas visible.  _Abe was alone with God_, and he determined to speak to\nHim, and tell Him all his burden of sorrow.  Near to where he stood,\nthere was a large tree growing, whose lofty branches were uplifted to\nheaven; it stood just at the bottom of a little grassy slope of four or\nfive yards deep, and close to the side of a small clear stream of\nwater, which ran gurgling and rippling along, moistening the great\nroots of this tree; it was here, under its spreading boughs and gnarled\ntrunk, _Abe found a place for prayer_.  Down on his knees he cast\nhimself, and his first utterance consecrated that spot as a closet,\n\"God be merciful to me a sinner!\"  He only needed to utter the first\ncry, others followed in rapid and earnest succession, till all the\nrestraints upon his soul were broken asunder, and in an agony he\nwrestled for salvation.  Hour after hour fled by; twilight gave place\nto darkness; lights shone from the cottage windows away on the\nhill-sides; distant watch-dogs answered each other's unwearying bark;\nneighbours in the village yonder, stood chatting by their open doors in\nthe quiet night, and in many a cottage home hard by, children and\ngrown-up men sat quietly eating their last meal before retiring to bed:\nbut none of them knew that out on Almondbury common, at the foot of a\ngreat rude tree, a man, one of their neighbours, a sinner like\nthemselves, _was praying_.  No, no, they didn't know: there is many a\nthing goes on of vital interest to us, which even our nearest friends\nknow nothing about; but there are other eyes, invisible, which look\ndown upon us from their starry heights seeing all our ways.  So they\nlooked, while Abe wrestled for liberty.  His chief snare at this time\nwas, that he was _too bad for Christ to save_; it was a terrible\nthought to him, and had so much of seeming truth in it, that he at\ntimes almost despaired; then again he remembered that he could not be\ntoo bad for Christ to save; no, HE could save to the very uttermost all\nthat came unto Him; Abe tried to believe that with all his heart, and\nas he struggled against his doubts and fears, faith grew stronger and\nbolder, then in a moment the snare broke, the dark cloud over his soul\nburst, and out from the cleft there came a voice, which thrilled his\nwhole being.  \"Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of\nthe Lord is risen upon thee.\"  \"Glory!  Glory!!  Glory!!!\" burst from\nhis enraptured lips; his \"light was come,\"--what a light! a soul full,\n_full_ of the light of Divine smiles.  No wonder Abe forgot everything\nelse, in the joys of that ecstatic moment.  He leaped, laughed, wept\nshouted the praises of God till his voice might have been heard far\naway over the waste, as he turned his steps towards home that night.\n\"Why, he's made a bron new man o' me.  I hardly know mysen.\nHallelujah!\"\n\nHe was not long in reaching home, nor long in letting them know, when\nhe got there, what a change had come over him.  In he went, with a face\nshining in all the brightness of his new-found joy.  \"He's made a bron\nnew man o' me!  He's made a bron new man o' me.  Hallelujah!\nHallelujah!\"\n\nThe change in his whole manner and appearance was so great, that his\npoor old father was at first alarmed lest he had gone wrong in his\nmind; but Abe assured him he had just got right, and by God's help he\nmeant to keep so.\n\nOh, if Abe had just got right by the wonderful change which God had\nwrought in him, (and who can doubt it?) how many there are in the world\n_who are all wrong_, living the wrong life, striving for the wrong\nthings, going the wrong way, and running towards the wrong goal!  Oh,\nhow many are spending this short life in the pursuit of things which\nare worthless and worse; sacrificing their souls' best interests for\nthe brief indulgence of sinful tastes, or spending the rapidly\naccumulating years of their life in dark indifference to eternal things!\n\nThe escape of one such sinner as Abe from the captivity in which the\nungodly are all held, may for a brief hour excite remark, perhaps a\ndesire for liberty, too, in the minds of some others; but these good\ndesires are often only of short duration, they die where they were\nborn, and almost as soon, and the soul returns to its former state; the\nsleeper slumbers on; the drunkard drinks harder; the swearer blasphemes\nmore fiercely; the libertine indulges in greater excesses; and all\nthese hordes of ungodly men push on again down the broad and easy\nincline to the pit of Hell.  Do people know that the end of a sinful\nlife is Hell?  Do people believe?  Why, then, do they press their way\ndown to such a place?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nAbe a New Character in the Village.\n\n\"Hast ta yeard th' news?\" said one neighbour to another, on the morning\nfollowing the happy event narrated in the preceding chapter.\n\n\"What news dost ta mean?\"\n\n\"Aye well, thaa has'n't yeard what happened last noight; doan't look so\nscared, mon; th' mill worn't burnt daan; nor th' river droid up; nor\nAmebury (Almondbury) common transported; but some'at stranger nor that.\"\n\n\"Why, whatever dost ta mean?\"\n\n\"I mean that Abe Lockwood's been and gotton converted last noight, and\nhe's up and off to his wark this morning, shaating and singing like a\nmadman.\"\n\n\"Abe Lockwood converted!\" replied the other in astonishment, and\npausing between each word, as if to realize his own sayings.\n\"Nay,--I'll niver believe that.\"\n\n\"It's as true as thaa and me is here; his father telled me he wor aat\nhoalf at noight on Amebury common, crying and praying by a big tree\nroit, and he gat converted there all alone; and when he came into th'\nhaase, his face was shining like th' moonloight.\"\n\nHere was news for the people of Berry Brow, and how it flew from mouth\nto mouth, and from house to house, till, before many hours, almost\nevery person in the village knew of the wonderful change which had come\nover Abe.  Some doubted the report,--\"It canna be soa,\" said one;\nanother \"would sooiner think of ony one than him; he's making game\non't, I'll lay onything.\"  Others thought, \"If he's turned religious,\nit's no matter; he'll be as wild as iver by th' week-end.\"  It was out\nof all character for Abe Lockwood to be anything else than he had been,\na rollicksome, laughing, drinking, ungodly young man.\n\nHow often people talk in this way, when they hear of some giving their\nhearts to God; \"They won't stand long; give them a month, and it will\nbe all over,\" and such like injudicious things are said even by some\nwho ought to have more discretion.  People talk without thinking, or\nmake such statements to cover their own shortcomings and faults.  Why\nshall they not stand? are they in the keeping of a feeble or fickle\nSaviour? isn't His grace as strong as sin? is not Jesus always mightier\nthan the devil? and have not millions of the greatest sinners who have\nfound the Lord, stood firm against the snares of the world, and all the\ndevices of the wicked one?  \"He won't stand,\" is an old lie, which\nevery young believer must set at defiance.  \"Stand fast, therefore, in\nthe liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled\nagain with the yoke of bondage.\"\n\n\"Weant I stand,\" said Abe, \"then I'll fall, but it shall be at the feet\nof Jesus.\"  Ah, that is the best way to stand; fall at the feet of\nJesus.  It may seem a paradox in terms, but it is not in truth; it is\non the Apostolic principle, \"When I'm weak, then am I strong.\"  So poor\nAbe laid himself down in order that he might not fall, and this is a\nplan which others might try in times of spiritual peril, and so escape\nthe danger of backsliding.\n\nAmong others who canvassed the subject of his conversion were his old\ncompanions.  One had gone out from among them that they were sorry to\nlose; he was such a merry fellow; his face was always sunny; his\ncomical sayings had filled the public-house with roars of laughter many\na time; he could sing a song better than any of them, and he was always\nready; he was open-handed with his money whenever he had any; and\nindeed, he possessed most of the qualities which make a man a favourite\namong boon companions.  His going out left a blank which was more felt\nthan seen; a vacant seat in a public-house is soon filled; so if Abe\nwas not there to occupy his own place someone else was; but no matter\nwho of his old associates were present, everyone felt Abe was absent,\nand couldn't help showing it in some way.\n\nThey had all observed that he had not been exactly himself lately; \"a\nlittle down in the mouth,\" and very quiet at times; but never divining\nthe reason, they had put it down to the wrong cause, or thought very\nlittle about it; and then Abe had so often roused himself out of these\nmoods of mental abstraction by taking \"another glass,\" and having\nanother song, that he had kept his companions completely ignorant of\nthe work which was going on in his mind.  So now it burst upon them\nlike a gun-shot; they were amazed; but the devil seldom deserts his\nvictims at a time like that; it would not be safe, he might lose some\nmore of them; he comes to their help and counsels them as to their\nconduct.  \"Well,\" says one of them as they gathered in their usual\nplace of resort one night, \"I s'pose Abe Lockwood will be gone to\nprayer-meeting to sing Psalms with the old women,\" at which the whole\ncompany burst into a loud laugh at Abe's expense, and yet it cost him\nnothing, which was more than any of them could say of the drink they\nconsumed that night.\n\nAbe Lockwood had left them,--he was a changed man; he had been\nconverted on Amebury common; he had turned off into an entirely\ndifferent course from theirs; he was a better man than any of them:\nmany such thoughts as these would obtrude themselves on the minds of\nhis former friends, and linger there in spite of all their efforts to\nkeep clear of them.\n\nSome time elapsed before any of these old associates were brought into\nimmediate contact with Abe; whether they purposely kept out of his way,\nor he out of theirs, is not easy to say; perhaps both would be correct.\nHe no doubt felt safest and happiest away from his old companions and\neverything which reminded him of them; they, too, had a misgiving that\nwhenever they did meet Abe, he would say something that might make them\nuncomfortable; for they knew he would not beat about the bush, he would\ntell them his mind about their ways: so on the whole it was best to\nkeep out of his way as long as they could.\n\nMeanwhile, Abe was gathering strength day by day, for he was living in\nthe constant spirit of prayer, which is the way to be strong.  Night\nafter night, a lone man might be seen kneeling at the root of a great\ntree on Almondbury common, pouring out his soul in prayer to God, until\nthat spot became to the new convert the very gate of heaven; and for\nlong years after, when Abe was established in the faith, he still\nfrequently found his way there to pray; during the whole of his\nsubsequent life, he never passed that spot without turning aside to\nhear what the Lord would say to him.  Many of the most delightful times\nhe ever had were experienced at the foot of that tree; and a visit\nthere, where he breathed the native air of his spiritual life,\ninvariably brought the glow of religious health to his soul.\n\nAs weeks and months went by, the people of Berry Brow became used to\nthe fact of Abe Lockwood's conversion, and it ceased to excite any\nparticular remark, except such as might pass between neighbours on\nseeing him go by.\n\n\"Aye, mun, what a change is in yon lad,\" one would say.\n\n\"You are roight naa,\" would be the response.\n\n\"He wor as big a rake as ony i' th' parish a few months sin'; I'd never\nha' thowt o' Abe Lockwood turning religious.\"\n\n\"No, nor me noather, but we niver know what 'll come to us.\"\n\n\"No,--gooid-noight.\"\n\nOne day Abe and a former companion of his met full in front; there was\nno sliding away on either side,--they must speak.  Both of them\nexperienced a slight nervousness at first, but Abe plucked up courage\nand came boldly on.\n\n\"Naa, lad, haa art ta?\"\n\n\"Oh, why, middling like, haa's yersen?\"\n\n\"Aye, mun,\" said Abe, \"it gets better and better, religion is th' best\nthing i' th' world; it's made me th' happiest chap i' Berry Braa.\"\n\n\"Why, thaa looks merry,\" said his companion.\n\n\"I is merry, and only wish thaa wor like me,\" and then Abe went on in\nhis own simple, earnest, and homely manner to preach Jesus to his\nfriend; and before they parted, the man had proof enough that Abe had\nfound a better way of living than his former one.\n\nMany a time, as weeks and months rolled by, he was thrown for a short\ntime into company with one or another of his old yoke-fellows in sin;\nand often did they endeavour to lead him back again into the ways and\nhaunts he had forsaken; but no, no, he was not to be moved out of the\nnew path which he had taken for time and for eternity.\n\nAbe was a very plain-spoken man, and sometimes used phrases which were\nanything but refined, but this was compensated for by their good sense.\nSometimes, when Satan was tempting him to give up his religion, and\nreturn again into the ways of sin, he would exclaim, \"What! give up my\nblessed religion and return to thy swill-tub agean; I should be a great\nfooil to do that,--does th' want to mak' me like an owd saa (sow),\nthat's been weshed, and then runs back into t' muck agean; nay, thaa's\nrolled me i' sin lang enough; I'm thankful to be aat o' thy mud-hoil,\nand by the help of God, thaa'll get me there no maar.\"  Then perhaps,\nwhen in conversation with some unconverted neighbour on the\nall-absorbing theme of religion, he would break out, \"Aye, mun, yoa\ndoan't know haa grand it feels being weshed, weshed i' th' blood of th'\nLamb.  I wor that mucky, all th' waiter i' Holmfirth dam couldn't mak'\nme daacent, but a drop of His blood did it in a moment.  Glory to God!\"\n\nAh! the precious blood of Jesus can make the foulest clean; no matter\nhow long or how deep sin has reigned in his heart, Jesus is able to\nremove it entirely, and bring in His grace and peace.  He is a\nwonderful Physician, there is none like Him; He has never been baffled\nyet, though for nearly two thousand years He has been called to\nexercise His power on the outcasts and incurables of our race.  He\nknows the disease with which every poor sinner is afflicted, and He\nalso understands the cure; sinners who have long been given up by\nthemselves, and others as well--poor, abandoned things, who have been\nkicked out of all orderly society, and left to rot in the moral filth\nof the streets, or die in the sewers of iniquity, have been found by\nHim, lifted out of the mire, washed in the streams of His grace,\nclothed in His righteousness, and made fit to sit among princes.\n\n  \"Jesus, Thy blood and righteousness\n    My beauty are, my glorious dress;\n  'Midst flaming worlds, in these arrayed,\n    With joy shall I lift up my head.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nIn Membership with the Church.\n\nAs soon as Abe Lockwood found the Lord, he felt it was his duty and\nprivilege to unite himself with the people of God, and he therefore\nlost no time in seeking membership.\n\nTHE METHODIST NEW CONNEXION at that time had no chapel in Berry Brow,\nbut conducted prayer-meetings, and held a weekly class in a cottage\nsomewhere in the village.  Abe knew these humble, earnest people, and\nfelt drawn towards them by strong sympathy; he was sure he could feel\nat home among them, and they would be of very great assistance to him\nin building up his Christian character.  What made him all the more\nwilling to throw in his lot among them, was the fact that some of them\nhad frequently shown an interest in his spiritual welfare before he\nbecame converted, and had endeavoured to induce him to attend their\nmeetings; and now when they all knew the change that had taken place in\nhim, they were the first to go after him and offer him the right hand\nof fellowship,--so he at once united himself heart and hand to their\nlittle band.\n\nIt would be well if that zeal and watching for souls, which\ncharacterized the early Methodists, were more frequently displayed\namong their successors; how many who are now merely hovering outside\nthe Christian Church, afraid to run after the pleasures of sin, ashamed\nto avow themselves in quest of salvation, would be brought to decision,\nand enabled to lead a happy and useful life.\n\nThere are many thus hanging on the skirts of almost every Church,\nwaiting to be gathered up, and shame on the members who quietly and\nindifferently permit this!  It must not be; men's souls are too\nprecious to be trifled with; they have _cost too much_ for us to allow\nthem to starve and die on our doorstep; open the door, put forth your\nhand, draw them kindly, but firmly, into the family of the Lord; few of\nthem will have heart to resist such efforts to save them; but if they\ndo, then go out to them, stay with them, persuade and entreat them,\npray for them, pray on and on, and in the end you will prevail.  We\nwant more of this watching and waiting for souls in Churches; may God\nlay these souls on our hearts!\n\nAbe became a member of the Methodist New Connexion in Berry Brow when\nit could scarcely be considered a Church, inasmuch as neither Christian\nsacrament nor preaching services were established there: it was merely\na class belonging to the society in Huddersfield.  That class, however,\nwas the living germ out of which was in due time developed a strong and\nflourishing Church, having now a commodious chapel, and also an\nexcellent Sunday School, in which are growing up hundreds of\ninteresting children, who will some day be a blessing to the\nneighbourhood, and an honour to the Church of Christ.\n\nTo this little band of disciples our friend Abe was a most valuable\naddition; not that either then or afterwards he brought them wealth,\nfor he was always poor, but because he contributed a zealous, praying\nspirit, and encouraged the little flock to fresh exertions.\n\nHe was no sooner admitted among them, than he began to exercise his\ntalents in prayer-meetings, and although he sometimes got confused in\nhis utterances, he didn't care much, for he used to say, \"Th' Lord\nknows what I mean, and He can soort th' words, and put 'em in their\nroight places; bless Him, He can read upsoide daan, or insoide aat.\"\nBut time and constant exercise made a wonderful improvement in this\nrespect, and as Abe felt less difficulty in uttering what he meant, he\nalso experienced less restraint of spirits, and began to show himself\nin his own peculiar style.\n\nHe had a way of responding to almost everything that was prayed for,\nand interlacing remarks, and sometimes explanations, when he thought\nthem necessary.  Possibly these comments were more to himself than for\nany one else, and were often made quite unconsciously--a kind of\nthinking aloud.  A rather amusing instance is given where Abe's notes\nof explanation were called forth.  It appears that one night the weekly\nprayer-meeting was conducted as usual in the cottage of one of the\nmembers.  Abe was there among a number of others, and they were having\na very lively time together.  As one after another engaged in earnest\nintercession at the throne of grace, the feelings of all present became\nvery elevated, and they shouted for joy.  At length, while one brother\nwas praying, another got so happy that he could remain on his knees no\nlonger.  Springing to his feet, therefore, he began to jump, and in one\nof his upward movements he brought his head into sudden and violent\ncontact with a basket of apples, which hung by a nail to the ceiling;\nthe basket oscillated a time or two, then slipped over the head of the\nnail, and spilt its contents on the head of the man that was praying.\nThis singular event was deemed by him a sufficient reason for\nsuspending his exercises, and opening his eyes to ascertain the cause.\nAs soon as Abe observed the suspension of prayer, he exclaimed, \"Pray\non, lad! it's nobbut th' owd woman's apple-cart upset,\" on receiving\nwhich timely exposition of the state of things, the good man resumed\nhis intercessions, and the meeting returned to its former happy flow of\nfeeling.  The time came when Abe was looked upon as the life and soul\nof these little meetings: his quaint sayings, his earnest prayers, his\nhappy experience, always animated and strengthened those who were\npresent, and made the meetings real means of grace.  Then Abe was\nalways there; he could be relied upon whoever might fail, so that they\nall began to depend upon him, look to him, and follow him, till, almost\nwithout knowing it, he had become greatly responsible for the spiritual\nlife of the little flock in Berry Brow, and mainly instrumental in\nlaying the foundations of the cause there, which has now grown to very\ninteresting and influential proportions.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\n\"For Better, for Worse\"\n\nMarriage is a most important step in the life of any person; happiness\nor misery in this world depend on it far more than many young people\nthink.  Nothing demands more careful thought, discrimination, and\nprayer, than the choice of a life partner.  Especially professors of\nreligion should consider this, lest they be tempted to break the\napostolic injunction, and become \"unequally yoked together with\nunbelievers.\"\n\nIt is painful to see how little regard is paid to this subject by some\nwho profess to be disciples of Jesus, and yet allow their affections to\nbe centred upon someone of the world.  Pleased by an attractive\nappearance, winning manners, or something else of this kind, they are\nbeguiled away beyond the line of demarcation which divides the church\nfrom the world, until, by-and-bye, they consummate a union of the\nflesh, where there cannot be a union of spirit, and light and darkness\nmake a poor attempt to dwell together.\n\nSelf-deception is a very easy thing in matters of this sort; it is\nseldom difficult to find arguments in favour of that which the heart is\nset upon.  The one that knows the Lord, will pray until the other is\nbrought to him; neither will be guilty of casting the slightest\nhindrance in the way of the other, etc., etc., but how often have these\npretty delusive devices been cast to the winds, or broken to atoms like\nglass toys in after life, and their framers made to pay the bitter\npenalties of disappointment, regret, and even backsliding for their\nearly transgressions?  The selection of a husband or wife is not a\nquestion of mere sentiment or feeling, but one which involves an\nimportant principle.  In making it, we should take God into our\ncounsel, and abide by His decisions.  A young man who was a member in\none of our churches once opened his mind to me on this subject; he very\nmuch admired a young person whom he mentioned; he said he had been\npraying about marriage with her for some time, and had left it entirely\nwith the Lord, but said he, \"I must have her, come what may.\"  Prayer\nwith submission like that is only a solemn mockery, and is sure to meet\nwith its deserved reward.  If we ask God to guide us, we must permit\nHim to lead; and whether the outcome suit our feelings or not, we may\nrest assured it will be for our ultimate welfare.\n\nIn the choice of his wife Abe Lockwood was wisely led, as a long and\nhappy life together afterwards proved.  It appears that soon after his\nconversion, Abe, who was always fond of singing, joined the choir of\nthe Huddersfield Chapel.  That was the age before organs were thought\nof in Methodist places of worship; other musical instruments obtained\nin those good old times: fiddles and bass viols, clarionets, flutes,\nhautboys, cornets, trombones, bassoons and serpents, delighted the ears\nand stirred the souls of our forefathers with their sacred harmony.\nGrand old times those were too; there was some scope for the musical\ngenius and taste of men in those days, when if a man could not\nmanipulate the keys and evoke the religious tones of a clarionet, he\nmight vent his zeal in the trombone, or make melody on a triangle;\nthen, the orchestra was a kind of safety valve, where zealous men might\nexert their powers until they were bathed in perspiration and\nexhausted.  In those days the musicians were men of considerable\ninfluence in the public services; they could any time keep the\ncongregation waiting while they tuned up to harmony, or while the first\nfiddle mended his string, or rosined his stick.  True, a little\naccident would occasionally happen in the midst of the service, such as\nthe falling of a bridge, but nobody was hurt, it was only a\nfiddle-bridge; a nervous preacher might be just a little startled by\nthe thwack behind him, and a few of the light sleepers might be\nsuddenly aroused from their deep meditations to venture an\ninappropriate response; and other little matters might occasionally\nhappen, as when some conspicuous instrument became excited, and played\nsomewhat sharper than the others in the band, thereby giving a twinge\nof neuralgia to a few sensitive persons in the congregation; but then\nthey shouldn't be so sensitive,--others were not, not even the\nmusicians, and why should they?  Besides, all these things, and a great\nmany more, too numerous to mention, helped to throw some variety and\nfeeling into the proceedings, and frequently afforded matter for lively\nconversation when the people came out of chapel.  Can any one wonder,\ntherefore, that the musical taste of the past should steadfastly resist\nevery effort to bring about a change in the composition and conduct of\nour chapel orchestras?\n\nAbe lived and flourished as a singer in those good old days, and it was\none of his greatest enjoyments to take his place among the singers in\nthe old High Street Chapel, and raise his alto voice in honour of Him\n\"whose praise can ne'er be told.\"\n\nBut there was another little pleasure which Abe very much enjoyed after\nthe services, and that was to walk home in company with a young woman,\none of the singers, too, named Sarah Bradley.  She lived at Berry Brow,\nand was a member in the same class as himself; she was about his own\nage, and while she made no pretensions to beauty, she was what the\nneighbours called \"a real bonny lass.\"  Abe thought her the nicest and\nhandsomest young woman he ever gazed upon.  She was the very light of\nhis eyes, and her conversation was real music to him; he was so charmed\nwith her, that he would run a mile any time to look at her bonny face;\nhis affections were entirely won by her,--which was, by the way, no\nlittle pleasure to herself, inasmuch as she regarded him with very\nsimilar feelings.\n\nThere seemed quite a propriety in the mutual affection of these two\nyoung people; it was, to say the least of it, quite patriarchal that\nAbraham should love Sarah; but whether Abe ever thought of Scripture\nprecedent for indulging such sentiment or not, one thing is certain, he\nfollowed the example set by one of old, and took Sarah to be his wife.\n\nThe wedding took place on the 10th May, 1818.  There was no extravagant\nor improvident display on the occasion.  Abe did, however, put on his\nbest clothes, and stay from work for that day; and Sally, as he now\nbegan to call her, appeared in a stuff dress, that served as her Sunday\nfrock for a long time afterwards.  A few friends attended the ceremony\nby invitation, and a few more of the gentler sex just dropped in as\nthey were, to see that the affair was properly done, as well as to\nindulge a pardonable liking for that kind of religious service.  Some\nof them probably never attended a place of worship except on such\ninteresting occasions, or in connection with a christening.  Here,\nthen, was an opportunity for these people to indulge their select\ntastes, and they failed not to embrace it.\n\nThe ceremony over, the happy pair came forth to be pelted, according to\ncustom, with rice and old shoes, symbolizing the wishes of the\nbystanders, that all through life they might enjoy plenty, prosperity,\nand good luck.  Then came the walk home through the village arm-in-arm;\nAbe nervous, and Sally blushing under the kind yet familiar\ncongratulations of their friends.\n\nThe day was spent in a quiet, happy manner among the members of the\nwedding party, and nothing particular occurred until a little before\nseven o'clock in the evening, when all at once Abe got up, reached down\nhis hat, and prepared for going out.\n\n\"Where's ta going?\" someone asked.  Sally was looking at him rather\ncuriously, as if she could not understand his movements.\n\n\"Why,\" said he, \"doant yoa know it's my class noight?\"\n\n\"Well, what by that? they'll niver expect thee t'-noight.\"\n\n\"Oh, but I mun goa.\"\n\nAll present laughed right heartily at his remark, and one of them said,\n\"Nay, lad, thaa mu'nt goa t'-noight and leave th' wife and all th'\nfriends; foak 'll laugh at thee.\"\n\n\"Let 'em laugh; th' devil 'll laugh if I doant goa, and foak 'll laugh\nif I do.  I'm sure to be laughed at, ony way; I'll goa.\"  He looked at\nSally for a moment, and saw, at any rate, that she understood him,\nalthough she did smile; so opening the door he shot out, saying, \"I\nshalln't be long, lass.\"  He went to his meeting just the same as\nusual, and no matter to Abe if his leader and class-mates were all\nsurprised to see him, he was quite as comfortable as if a wedding were\nan every-day event with him.  Abe's maxim was to allow no hindrance to\nstand in the way of his duty to God.  Christ came first with him, his\nwife stood next; and as he began, so he continued through all his\nmarriage life.\n\nThis worthy couple began housekeeping in a very humble way,--it was\nreally \"love in a cot,\"--and with very limited means; but they were\nhappy in each other and happy in God.  Sally made a good wife, and\ncontributed greatly not only to her husband's happiness, but also to\nhis usefulness in the Church.  Too much can hardly be said in honour of\nthat humble and devoted woman, whose great study, during all their life\ntogether, was to make home most attractive to her husband, and his\npath, as a Christian, easy.  When the charge of a large family came\nupon them, she cheerfully and studiously undertook the multitudinous\nlittle offices and cares that always come, under the circumstances, and\nthrew as little as possible upon her partner in the house; for she used\nto say, \"Dear man, he has enough to do to find us in bread, without\ntroubling to put it into our mouths.\"  Ah, and when there was scarcely\neven bread for them, which often happened in those hard times, she\nwould scorn to murmur at her husband, or utter a word that seemed like\na reflection upon him; no, she was united to him \"for better, for\nworse,\" and she bore whatever came with a noble and patient fortitude.\nMany a time, however, had she, poor thing, to go to her heavenly Father\nwith her cares, and vent her anguish in a shower of tears, which Abe\nnever saw, and perhaps never heard about; and when he came home from\nhis day's toil, she always tried to have a cheerful face and a smile\nfor the dear man.\n\nBesides attending to the duties of her household like an exemplary\nwife, she was often engaged in her own house _burling_ cloth for the\nmanufacturers, by which means she earned a scanty addition to their\nincome.  Frequently when Abe retired to rest, she would pretend she was\nscarcely ready, and then, after he had fallen soundly asleep, she might\nbe seen by the dim light of a candle, hour after hour, till far away\ninto the morning, picking at the cloth in order to get it finished;\nthen, tired in body and spirit, she would throw herself down to sleep,\nand recruit for the struggles of another day.  Whenever the children\nhad any new clothes, which was too seldom, they were made by her hands.\nNecessity had taught that thrifty little woman many a thing, until in\ntime she learnt not only to earn and make their clothes, but even to\nmend their shoes herself.  Many a homely patch did she put upon their\nclogs, and many a sole, too.  She had fingers for anything, and never\nstood fast whatever came in her way.  While many others in her position\nwould have sat wondering and despairing, she arose, stuck to her task,\ngot it done, and if she had any time, she did the wondering afterwards.\n\nGo when you would to Sally Lockwood's house, it was always tidy, and\nthere was a clean chair for you to sit upon.  Although their clothes\nwere coarse, and patched with more pieces, if not more colours than\nJoseph's coat, the children were always clean, though many a time they\nhadn't a change of garment to put on.  What that means in a large\nfamily, the thrifty wives of hard-working men will understand.  The\nfrequent late washings on Saturday nights, when the little ones were\ngone to bed, were something wonderful, and what was even more\nremarkable still was, that Sunday morning found their things all clean\nand dried, ready for them to go to school like other children.\n\nAh, Sunday morning, beginning of the day of rest,--how welcome to poor\nSally after her hard week's toils and anxieties!  When the family were\ngone to school, and her honest man was somewhere at work in the\nMaster's vineyard, she could slip on her bonnet and shawl and just run\ninto the preaching service close by, and gather strength and\nencouragement from the earnest prayers and humble exhortations of those\nmen whom God had found in the quarry, at the loom, in the mine, or at\nthe lapstone, and sent forth Sunday by Sunday into the villages to\npreach a homely gospel to the poor, and comfort to His flock.\n\nAnd thus she struggled on from week to week and year to year, bearing\nwith uncomplaining fortitude her own burdens, and lightening, when she\ncould, those of her husband; setting an example of patience, industry,\nand piety before her family, thus by example, as well as precept,\ntraining them up in the fear of the Lord.\n\nNo wonder that one of Abe's greatest boasts was his wife.  Next to his\nLord and Master, whose praise was ever on his lips, Sally came in for\nhonours.  \"Aar Sally,\" which was the usual homely and affectionate way\nin which he spoke of her, was, humanly speaking, his sheet anchor; her\nword was more to him than counsel's opinion, and considerably cheaper;\nwhat \"aar Sally\" said was Act of Parliament in that little house.  She\nhad gained a power there which was due to her, and which she exercised\nfor the benefit of the whole.\n\n\"Aar Sally\" often figured in Abe's sermons, and always in a favourable\nlight, which shows the estimation he cherished for the worthy partner\nof his joys and sorrows.  Although, as years went on, time, labour, and\nanxiety made their unmistakable impressions upon her, she was always\nbonny to Abe; and up to the last, when he was a feeble old man, and she\nwas stricken in years, he used to say, \"Aar Sally is th' handsomest\nwoman i' th' world.\"  It is possible that this assertion may have been\nthe occasion of some tender disputes in some quarters, but nothing was\never heard to that effect, and no one ever openly ventured to enter\ninto competition with Sally for the honour which was ascribed to her,\nso that she was, _without dispute_, the handsomest woman in the world.\n\n  \"Handsome is he, that handsome doth,\n  And handsome, indeed, that's handsome enough.\"\n\nBeauty is only skin deep, but goodness goes right through.  Sally was a\ngood wife, a good mother, a good Christian, and now her soul rests in\nthe presence of Him \"who is fairest among ten thousand, and altogether\nlovely.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nWind and Tide Against.\n\nWhen Sally gave her hand to Abe, we have said it was \"for better, for\nworse,\" but she soon found there was a good deal of \"worse\" in it.\nWhat a sad thing it seems that nearly all the pretty castles which\nyoung people build for themselves in the air, should so soon fall to\npieces!  What a wonderful contribution it would be to the science of\narchitecture if the ideas of these erections could only be realized in\nsubstance!  Ah, but such is the nature of things, that castles without\nfoundations can only be built in the air, and commonplace men are\nunable to do that.  It has been a great disappointment to the\nconstructors of these buildings, that they have never been permitted to\nspend a single hour in them; so very attractive as they looked, too,\ncovered all over with gilt and flowers, and furnished in a style that\nout-rivalled the pictures of the \"Arabian Nights.\"\n\nA real prince might be happy if he could only get in.  Some of them\nhave taken years to bring to such a state of perfection; now, a little\naddition is made here, and then a slight alteration there, until it is\nfinished, and the happy pair set off to take possession of the fairy\npalace.  But they never enter it: the more eager they are to get in,\nthe more confused they become as to the position of the doorway; one\nthinks it is at the front, the other fancies it must be at the side,\nand every time they go around the house seeking the entrance, by some\nmysterious means the house seems further from them, and another effort\nis necessary to reach it.  How tiresome! but they must be in, for\nstorms begin to gather, and they are not prepared for them; the wind\nblows and whistles as if calling up other evil forces for mischief;\nnight, like a dismal monster in a black cloak, and barefooted, is\ncoming on; the pretty castle is fading out of view among the darkening\nobjects around,--quick! quick! we must be in, for the hour is wild.  On\nthey hurry, and in their haste, they find an open door and enter; there\nis shelter and rest for them, but when daylight comes they open their\neyes, and lo, the lovely castle is gone, and the home is a weaver's\ncottage!\n\nThere is no doubt that Abe and his young wife played their part at\ncastle-building, like most others in their position, and like others\nthey found it a great deal easier to erect than inhabit.  However,\nthere is this to be said for them, which cannot be said for all, they\nhad fortitude to endure their lot without complaint; and though their\ncastle was but a very little cot, it was commodious enough to hold\nthem, and left room for a variety of joys and sorrows as well.\n\nAt the time when they were married, Abe was working as a cloth-finisher\nin a mill near Almondbury common, but not long afterwards, the work at\nthis place failed, and he, with a number of others, was thrown out of\nemployment.  This was a sore reverse, for which they were ill-prepared.\nIf trade had been good in the neighbourhood, he could easily have\nobtained work under some other master, but alas! the reasons which\ninduced his employer to discharge his men, operated with others in the\nsame way, and consequently left no opening for Abe.\n\nWhat was to be done?  Ah! that was the inquiry which often passed\nbetween Abe and Sally in their little home.  The bread-winner was\nstopped, then the bread must soon stop, and then would come a dark\n_period_, that is, a full stop.\n\nIn their day of trouble they carried their case to the Lord, and asked\nHis fatherly aid; many a time did they go together to vent their burden\nof trouble in His ear, and obtain strength to endure their trial.  One\nday, after Abe had been in this way asking help and counsel of the\nLord, he came and sat in a chair at one end of the table, while his\nwife sat near him, quietly stitching away at an old garment she was\nmending.  For a few minutes neither of them spoke; by-and-by Sally\nlooked up from her work to thread her needle, and their eyes met.  She\nhad a very sad look upon her face, for her heart was full of trouble,\nand she was just ready for what she called \"a good cry;\" but the moment\nshe saw his face, which was covered all over with a comical smile, she\ncaught the infection, and burst into a laugh,--a kind of hysterical\nlaugh that had more sorrow than mirth in it.  She laughed and he\nlaughed, one at the other, till tears came from the eyes of both, and\ntheir poor sorrow-sick hearts seemed as if they would rise into their\nthroats and choke them.\n\n\"Naa, lass, what's matter with the'?\" at length exclaimed Abe.\n\n\"Why, it's thee made me laugh soa.\"\n\n\"Me, what did I do?\"\n\n\"Ay, thaa may weel ask,\" said Sally, wiping her eyes with her apron.\n\"Why, thaa looked a'most queer enough to mak' a besom-shank laugh;\nthaa's made my soides ache.\"\n\n\"Well, it 'll do thee gooid; thaa wants a bit of a change, for thaa's\nhad heartache lang enough,\" responded her husband.\n\nSally resumed her work, but said nothing; her only response was a\ndeep-drawn sigh.  A few moments of silence again ensued, which Abe\nbroke by saying, \"Sally, haa would the' loike to see me wi' a black\nface?\"\n\n\"What's 'ta say?\"\n\n\"Haa w'd th' loike to see me wi' a black face?\" repeated Abe.\n\n\"What art ta going to blacken thee face forr doesn't th' like thee own\ncolour? what does ta mean?\" inquired Sally looking at him.\n\n\"I mean,\" replied Abe with great earnestness, \"that I'm gooin to turn\ncollier.\"\n\n\"Nay, niver, lad!\" cried his wife in dismay.\n\n\"Why, it's only for a bit till things brighten up in aar loine, and\nthen thaa knows I can get wark at th' mill agean.\"\n\nPoor Sally wept in earnest now; it was a shock to her feelings that she\nwas not prepared for.  At length she said, \"I niver thought of thee\ngoin daan a coil-pit, thaa isn't used to it, and thaa 'll happen break\nthee neck.\"\n\n\"Nay, not soa; I've warked mony a day in a coil-pit,\" said Abe.  \"Bless\nthee, my lass, when I were nowt but a bairn I used to wark i' th' pits;\nniver fear, I'm an owd hand, I can do a bit o' hewing wi' ony on um.\"\nAnd then when Abe saw the first burst of feeling on his wife's part was\ngiving way, he went on to make good his position: \"Thaa knows I mun do\nsome'at, and there is nowt else I can see to turn to, and it 'll keep\nus going till I can get back to my own wark; we mu'nt be praad in these\ntimes, thaa knows.  I'll promise to wesh th' black dust off my face\nevery day,\" said he, laughing, and trying to get her to do the same.\n\"Cheer up, my lass, we mun look th' rock i' th' face.\"\n\n\"Ah, th' Lord help us,\" responded Sally.\n\n\"Naa I like to year thee say that,\" said Abe, \"because I believe it was\nthe Lord that put it into my yead, for I niver thowt abaat such a thing\ntill I were telling Him my troubles just naa, and then it came to me\nall in a moment, like as if someone spake to me, and I says, I'll goa.\"\n\nAnd he did go, and he got employment in one of the coal-pits in the\nneighbourhood, where he received so much per week as wages, and a lump\nof coal every day as large as he could carry home, as a perquisite.  Of\ncourse he took as big a lump as he could manage, and sometimes he was\ntempted to overtax his strength.  Many a time poor Abe had to stop on\nthe way home, lift the coal down from his head, where he usually\ncarried it, and rub the sore place; and many an expedient, in the way\nof padding, had he to resort to, in order to compensate for the soft\nplace which nature, so prodigal in her gifts to some, had denied him.\nHowever, day after day he struggled along under his dark and heavy\nload, each day finding himself oppressed by another weight--of coals.\n\nThe new work was hard and trying to him, but he kept toiling on, and\npatiently waiting for the time when his heavenly Father would open up\nanother sphere for him; meanwhile there was this consolation, that his\ntoils kept fire in the hearth, and bread in the cupboard at home, and\nknowing this he was happy.  He didn't envy any man his wealth, or his\nease; he many a time on his way home, with the lump of coal on his\nhead, was happier than the rich employer who passed him in his\ncarriage; he had no ambitious schemes with which to harass his mind,\nhis highest object was to glorify God in a consistent Christian life,\nand try to lead others to do the same.  When his day's work was ended,\nhe could lift his burden on his head, and journey homeward with a light\nheart; the only weight he felt was upon his head; many a day he came\nover the ground singing, certainly _under a difficulty_, but no matter,\nhe did sing.  Abe was an alto singer in the chapel choir, but in these\nhomeward songs one would almost fancy he would have to take another\npart, as the lump on his head would render it rather inconvenient for\nhim to reach the higher notes; ground-bass would be more in keeping\nwith his circumstances, and probably he himself was more inclined to\nsink than soar; be that as it may, he sang and trudged along home, and\nany one that met him, might know he was happy as a king, aye, and\nhappier than many.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nThe Clouds begin to Break.\n\nAbe had not long laboured in the coal-pit before all about him began to\nfeel he was a good man.  He did not hide his light from anyone, masters\nor men, and though they may not have followed his godly example and\nChristian counsel, they all respected him for his pious and consistent\nlife among them.\n\nIt so turned out that one day the foreman ordered all the men to stay\nand work overtime at night, in order to complete some important matter\nwhich they had in hand.  This was a terrible blow to Abe, for it was\nhis class-night, and he had never yet missed that means of grace, nor\nwould he, if he could by any possibility get there; but now, what was\nhe to do?  He felt it was his duty to obey his master, and take his\nshare of the extra work if required; on the other hand, his heart\nyearned for the fellowship of saints: how dear that little classroom\nseemed to him then.  All the day his mind dwelt upon the subject; he\nfancied his own accustomed seat empty, and his leader and classmates\nwondering why he was not there; he prayed earnestly for deliverance\nfrom this snare, and yet saw no way of escape.  Evening came, and the\nusual hour for leaving work, but no bell rang the men out; on they all\nwent at their task, and Abe along with the rest, yet all the time he\nwas groaning in spirit; half an hour passed away, when the foreman came\nin.  He was a hard, resolute man, that seemed to have neither fear of\nGod nor devil before his eyes.  \"Abe Lockwood,\" said he, \"isn't this\nthy class noight?\"  Abe looked up in an instant, and replied, \"It is.\"\n\"Drop thee wark this minute and go then; if I'm going to hell, I won't\nhinder another man from trying to get to a better place,\" and before\nAbe could find time to thank him, he was gone again.  In a twinkling\nAbe was out of the place, and away over Almondbury common, like a fleet\nhound just slipt from the leash.  He went to his class-meeting and was\nvery happy there, but he did not forget in his own happiness to pray\nfor the man who in this instance had bowed to the better spirit within\nhim, and shown him such a mark of favour.\n\nThere is a heart in every man, however hard he may be, and when once\nthe Spirit of God assails that heart, He may break it, or at least\nreason it into submission.  We don't know all the power that God has,\nnor the many ways in which He can exert that power on the minds of men;\nwe often hinder its operation by our want of faith.  O Lord, increase\nour faith!  Then \"all things are possible to him that believeth.\"\n\nFor some time Abe continued working at the coal-pit.  Although he made\nno complaints, he greatly disliked the employment, and looked forward\nwith intense longing to the time when he could again return to his own\ncalling.  He told the Lord all his heart upon this subject, and often\nimplored Him to lift him out of the pit and bring him again to the\nemployment that was more congenial to his feelings.  Nor did he pray in\nvain, as the following incident will show:--One day a gentleman came to\nthe pit, and said, \"Have you got a man here called Abe Lockwood?\"  On\nbeing answered in the affirmative, he expressed a wish to see him.  Abe\nwas at once communicated with, and fetched out of the place where he\nwas working.  On seeing him all begrimed with coal-dust, the gentleman\nsaid, \"I'm sorry to see thee like this, Abe; I have been troubled about\nthee for some time.\"\n\n\"Have you, haa's that, maaster?\"\n\n\"Why, I hardly know, but I have felt for many a day that I ought to\ncome and offer thee work in my place, and now I've come, and if thou\nwants to leave here, I will find thee something to do in my mill.\"\n\nAbe's grateful heart was almost in his throat; his eyes swam in tears,\nhis face beamed with smiles, and he shouted, \"Hallelujah!  When mun I\ncome?\"\n\n\"Come at once if you can.\"\n\n\"All roight,\" said he, \"I can leave here ony time.  I'll come i' th'\nmorning; bless th' Lord!  I knew my Father would foind me another job\nsomewhere.\"\n\nThat night he went home singing with the usual lump of coal on his\nhead.  When he got into the house he threw it down with a crash that\nstartled Sally, his wife.  \"There,\" he said, playfully pretending to be\nvexed, \"I'll fetch thee na moor coils on my yead, so thaa needn't\nexpect it.\"\n\n\"What's matter wi' the' naa?\" she said, looking at him.\n\n\"I tell the' I'll fetch the' na maar coils,\" he responded, rubbing his\nscalp as if it hurt him.\n\n\"Well then, we may as weel let t' fire goa aat first as last,\" rejoined\nthe good wife, a little ruffled.\n\n\"Noa thaa shalln't.  I loike a gooid foire as weel as onybody; and if\nthaa grumbles ony maar, I weant go to th' pit agean.\"\n\nSally looked hard at him for a moment or two, and in spite of the thick\nlayer of coal-dust on his face, she could see there was a smile just\nunderneath struggling to burst through.  \"What dost ta mean?\" she said,\nhalf laughing herself.\n\n\"Mean!\" exclaimed Abe, jumping from his seat, and seizing hold of her\nhand, \"Mean!  Why, I mean that I've done with coil-pit; the Lord has\ngotten me a job in Huddersfield at my own wark, and I'm goin' in th'\nmorning, bless th' Lord!\"\n\nSally smiled, wiped her eyes, and said quietly, \"Well I niver; aye, but\nI am glad; come and get thee teaa, my old collier.\"  And that night\nthere was sunshine in Abe's cottage hours after the great orb of day\nhad gone down and left the world in darkness.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nSalem Chapel.\n\nClose to the entrance of the village, at the top of the main street,\nand within five minutes' walk of the railway station, stands the\nMethodist New Connexion Chapel of Berry Brow.  It is situated on the\nright-hand side of the street coming from Huddersfield; being on lower\nground than the road, it has from this point a stunted appearance.\nPursuing the decline and curve of the street a little further brings\nyou to the vertex of a triangle of level ground, on the base of which\nthe chapel stands.  It is fronted by a graveyard, whose two sides\ngradually converge towards a little iron gateway at the entrance.\n\nSeen from here the chapel presents a more pleasing appearance, though\neven now an observer could not fail to be struck with the dwarfish look\nof the building; there is a want of height to give it proper\nproportion.  It shows a plain stone front, which suggests that the good\npeople who built it had no money to spend in costly ornamentation.\nSALEM, the honoured name of the chapel, is inscribed on the front.  The\nSunday-school, which is of more recent date, stands adjoining it on the\nleft; the foreground treasures up the dust of many pious pilgrims who,\nin the days gone by, came to this house of peace.  The chapel has two\ndoors in the front; inside, the appearance is exceedingly plain; the\npulpit is stationed with its back against the front wall, and is\nenclosed by a pew that was formerly occupied by the choir, but now\nmostly by the speakers at the public meetings, for, being somewhat\nelevated, it serves as a permanent platform.  The plan of the sittings\nis a simple rising gallery, springing from the floor half-way to the\nceiling, and traversed by two aisles leading direct from either\ndoorway; in a recess abutting through the right-hand wall, the organ is\nfixed.  The chapel is capable of accommodating about three hundred\npersons, though there have been times when, somewhere or other, it has\nafforded room to much larger numbers of people that have crushed within\nits limited space.  Altogether, it is a plain, unpretentious structure,\nby no means equal to the growing requirements of the prosperous Church\nthat worships there in these days.\n\nSalem Chapel, like many other places of worship, has its story, full of\nsacred incident and interest.  It has been the religious birthplace of\nhundreds of precious souls, many of whom are now in glory, while others\nare journeying thitherward.  Many of the ablest ministers the Methodist\nNew Connexion has ever had, have counted it a joy to preach in that old\nsanctuary.\n\nSeveral revivals of the work of God have broken out within those walls,\nand spread with such rapidity and power through the neighbourhood, that\nSatan's strongholds have trembled before them; and in the great day of\nthe Lord it will be said of Salem, \"This and that man were born there.\"\n\nBut before it was built the people used to attend the High Street\nChapel, Huddersfield, which involved a walk of over two miles each way,\nand this in unfavourable weather was no light task.  The time came,\nhowever, when they began seriously to entertain the idea of having a\nplace of worship in their own village.\n\nAbe Lockwood was among the chief advocates of this scheme, and it was\nmainly owing to his activity in the matter that the undertaking was at\nlength commenced and completed.  In the month of July 1823, Abe, full\nof the new Chapel enterprize, entered a harvest field belonging to Mr.\nS---- of Armitage Fold, where several members of the Society were at\nwork, and took upon himself to announce that there would be a meeting\nin a certain house that night, for the purpose of considering whether\nthey were to have a Chapel in Berry Brow.  The meeting was held, and\nthe decision taken in favour of the movement.  They would arise and\nbuild, so in God's name they began the work.\n\nIt was a serious undertaking for them, as most of the members were poor\nworking people, but they were in earnest, and at once opened a\nsubscription list, each of them promising something to the fund before\nthey went outside to solicit help from any one else.  They then\nobtained further promises from others, and arranged to gather the money\nby weekly instalments, some being as little as a penny.  Then, in order\nto save cost as much as possible, the men themselves went and delved in\nthe quarry for stones, and borrowed horses and carts of the farmers to\nremove the material to the chapel site, and when it sometimes happened\nthat they could not obtain the use of horses, they got the loan of\ncarts, and the men, old and young, took the horse-work themselves, and\ndrew the stones to the building place.\n\nIn all this Abe was a foremost worker, toiling early and late, and\nasking any one and every one to come to their help, by which means they\ngot many of the wild young men of the village to assist in the work.\nThis did not, however, meet with universal approval; there were some\nfew very good people, who mostly employed themselves in looking on,\ngiving directions, and finding fault, who said it was not right to\nbring a lot of ungodly young men into a work so sacred; they\nexpostulated with Abe on the subject, he being the chief cause of their\nenlistment, but he replied, \"Not roight for them to help in building\nth' Lord's haase!  It must be roight; if they soil th' stones with\ntheir fingers, God will put them roight again when He gets into it.  I\nwouldn't care if th' devil hissen were to come and drag stones for th'\nplace, if only Jesus is preached in it afterwards;\" so the croakers\ndidn't gain anything by their complaints, except rejoinders from Abe,\nwhich taught them a little good sense, and they went on with the\nbuilding.\n\nThe foundation stone was laid on Shrove Tuesday 1824, and the chapel\nwas opened for religious services on Good Friday 1825.  The Rev. Thomas\nAllin preached on that occasion with his usual extraordinary ability.\nFrom that time until now the cause has never looked back, but has\nmaintained a steady onward course.  Seasons of trial and depression\nhave occasionally gathered over it like dark clouds, but the earnest\nband of Christian people it has drawn together, have been conducted\nunder the clouds in safety, and have lived to come out again into the\nsunshine of prosperity.\n\nThere is not a trouble or a joy, not a throb of sorrow or a thrill of\ndelight that ever came to that church during those years, which Abe\nLockwood did not feel.  He was so mixed and wrapt up in its history and\nworkings that he counted its very pulsations as distinctly as he felt\nhis own.  In later years, when other labourers were brought into the\nchurch, and his services as a local preacher came into greater demand,\nmany of the duties involved in conducting the cause fell into other\nhands; but Abe's love for Salem never did and never could diminish; to\nhim it was the most beautiful sanctuary in the Circuit or out of it;\nand there it stands as a monument of the zeal and devotion of those\nearnest men who more than fifty years ago laid its foundations, and\nreared its sacred walls in the name of the Lord.\n\nThey are nearly all gone to their reward, Abe among them, but in no\nsense more than this is the Scripture fulfilled, \"He being dead yet\nspeaketh.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nAbe becomes a Local Preacher.\n\nSeveral years had passed away from the date of Abe's marriage, and a\nfamily of young children had sprung up around him, filling his cottage\nwith life, and keeping him and his active wife constantly employed to\nsupply their daily necessities.  Hard times they had during those\nyears, but they held on their honest way, content with what they got,\nand envying no one that was in better circumstances than themselves.\n\nDuring all these years Abe continued a devoted follower of Christ; he\nwas always at the means of grace, and his chief aim was to be a true\ndisciple of the cross.  At the same time he was slowly acquiring\nability to speak in the meetings with more propriety and effect.\n\nMethodist prayer-meetings and class-meetings are excellent training\nschools for public speakers.  Most of the best ministers in Methodism\nfirst learnt to talk in these little meetings, where they have had,\nweek by week, opportunities of expressing their thoughts and feelings\nupon their religious life and experience; and although there are some\nwho have profited but very little by the benefits afforded in this way,\nthere are many others who have made their way from that humble\nbeginning up to the highest ranks of the Christian ministry.\n\nIn this training institution Abe slowly and steadily improved his\npowers, till some of his friends began to think he ought to have his\nname placed on the Circuit plan as an exhorter.  It was accordingly\nmentioned to him, but for some time met with no very favourable\nresponse from Abe.  \"Come on t' plan,\" exclaimed he; \"nay, not soa,\nunless you want to mak' a clerk o' me; but I can say Amen, without\nbeing planned.\"\n\nHowever, circumstances sometimes happen which have more force of\nargument in them than anything that men can say.  It occasionally\ntranspired, that some local preacher who was planned to preach in Salem\nChapel did not come to his appointment, and some person in the\ncongregation had to take the vacant place, and conduct the service as\nwell as he might be able without any previous preparation.  Now it\nappears that Abe found himself placed just in this very unenviable\nposition.  The congregation were all in the chapel; the hour of service\nhad come, and passed, yet no preacher arrived; the people were\nwhispering and looking at the clock; one brother went to the door to\nsee if there were any sign of the preacher's coming; two or three of\nthe leading brethren were whispering together, and then one of them\ncame over to Abe and said, \"I'm afraid there's going to be no preacher,\nthou'll be like to try and talk a bit this morning.\"\n\n\"Me, noa, I canna praach, mun,\" said Abe, evidently agitated.\n\n\"Aye, but thou can; thou'll have to try, and we'll pray for thee.\"\n\nAbe turned pale, looked up at the little pulpit, then down on the\nground, and then said, \"I've now't to talk abaat, noa, I canna tak'\nit.\"  Then another brother came and united his persuasion to that of\nthe man already with him, and at length Abe arose and went into the\nsinging pew in front of the pulpit, pale and trembling, and announced a\nhymn.  The service began, and grew into a kind of compromise between a\nprayer meeting and preaching.  The preacher took a text, and in his own\nstyle did his best to speak from the words,--the probability is he _did\nspeak from them_, further from them than critical hearers would judge\nproper, but what of that?  He did his best, and there were none in the\ncongregation but knew him and knew his consistent life; and although\nwhat he said was very unpreaching-like, it did not matter; the people\nwere well pleased, and Abe was very glad when it was over.\n\nAfter the first time this occurred again and again in Salem, until Abe\nbegan to be looked upon as the general stop-gap, as they called him.\nBut he was not to occupy that post always; it was only the\nstepping-stone to something else, for by-and-bye some of the local\npreachers would take him out with them to their appointments, and let\nhim talk to the people as well as he was able.  Wherever he went they\nsaid he must be sure and come again; he was so quaint, droll, plain,\nyet withal so fervent, that everyone enjoyed his remarks, and wished to\nhear him again.\n\nAbout the year 1833, and during the ministry of the Revs. J. Curtis and\nG. Bradshaw in the Huddersfield Circuit, an incident took place which\nwill give an idea of the style of Abe's early preaching efforts.  It\nwas on one Shrove Tuesday afternoon that he had to preach at\nPaddock;--the service was at that time conducted in a cottage;--a good\ndeal of talk had been indulged in by the people in anticipation of\nAbe's visit, and a great amount of curiosity and interest was excited.\nThe place was full.  Abe arrived, rubbing his hands, and blessing the\nLord, and immediately took his place, and commenced the service.  His\nprayer was like himself, rough and earnest; Divine power came down upon\nthe little company, and tears of joy ran from all eyes.  He selected a\nlesson with which he was familiar, and managed the reading very\ncreditably.  Abe then took his text, the subject being Abraham offering\nup his son Isaac on Mount Moriah.  Just at that moment the Rev. J.\nCurtis came into the service.  Now the unexpected appearance of the\nSuperintendent Minister, under circumstances like those, would have\nunnerved most young preachers, but it had no such effect on Abe; he no\nsooner set his eyes on him, than he said, \"Naa thaa sees I'm at it,\nwe're just baan off to Mount Moriah, and thaa mun goa too,\" and off he\nwent in a style peculiarly his own.\n\nHe drew some very amusing pictures of the patriarch, his son, and the\nyoung men preparing for the journey; he had Abraham ordering the\nservant men to do this, fetch that, undo something else; he had a deal\nof trouble in saddling the asses, those animals exhibiting the\nobstinate tendencies for which their descendants are even yet so\nrenowned; all was at length ready, Abraham and his attendants were\nmounted and setting off, when the door was again opened, and in walked\nthe Rev. G. Bradshaw, the young minister.  At sight of him Abe shouted,\n\"Aye, lad, thaa art baan to be too late, we've gotten th' mules saddled\nand had a'most gone withaat thee, but niver moind, thaa mun catch a\nmule for theesen, and come on behind.\"  So away they went, Abe taking\nthe lead, and the people mentally following.\n\nHe preached them such a sermon as they had never heard in their\nlives--nor anybody else.  Now they laughed at his odd sayings and\ngrotesque pictures, and then with melting feelings they praised God as\nthey listened to some of the simple yet truly beautiful sayings which\nfell from his lips.  As a sermon, there was enough to find fault with,\nfor he knew nothing about the art of sermonizing, and cared as little;\nbut it was so full of homely truth and spiritual feeling, that every\none, ministers not excepted, forgave the faults, and said it was a\nmeans of grace.\n\nIn this way Abe continued for some time, occasionally preaching without\nbeing officially recognized, but at length his name was placed on the\nplan as a local preacher on trial.  When the term of his probation was\nalmost expired, Abe was required to preach one week-night in High\nStreet Chapel, Huddersfield.\n\n\nHIS TRIAL SERMON.\n\nIt was a terrible trial for him, which appears strange, considering how\neasy he felt when the Circuit ministers heard him in the little room at\nPaddock, yet so it was; and as the time came on, Abe thought he never\ncould show his face in High Street.  Had it been anywhere else he would\nnot have cared, but he had a dread of the Circuit Chapel.  He had gone\nto several of the country places during the year, and sometimes did\nvery well; but then, he felt at home among the plain village people;\nthey could understand his broad vernacular, and make allowance for his\nblunders, which he knew were not a few, but in High Street everything\nwas different.  He thought they could not exercise the same forbearance\ntowards him, and so he shrank from the task.\n\nBut then he remembered it was not a place of his own seeking; that it\nwas a trial which other plain men had undergone before him, and would\ndo again, and he could not expect more favour than his brethren; so he\nmust go and do his best, trusting in the Lord for help.  And that\nevening Sally brushed him up, and had his clogs polished, and away he\nwent to Huddersfield.  There was a good congregation to hear him, and\namong others several local preachers.  Abe was very nervous, and\neverything around conspired to make him so.  He was in High Street\nChapel, awful; he had to preach, worse; to preach a trial sermon, worse\nthan ever; before all these grand folks, and in the presence of the\nSuperintendent, it was blinding, sickening, confounding.  He started at\nthe sound of his own voice, and when he tried to speak, he somehow said\njust what he didn't intend, and made more mistakes than he had either\ntime or sense to rectify; then, whenever he moved his feet, his clogs\nclamped on the floor in such a way as he had never heard them anywhere\nelse; he was in a fever of excitement and fear.  However, he had to\npreach; so having announced his text, he commenced his sermon, but it\nwas evidently hard for him to say anything; he tried and tried, rolled\nhis eyes up and all around, clasped his hands, uttered a few sentences,\nscratched his head, and exclaimed, \"Friends, I'm plogged\" (meaning he\ncould not go on), \"she weant goa; if this is preaching trial sermon,\nI'll niver try another; we'll be like to swap texts\" (try another\ntext).  Now while he was finding another text, the congregation sang a\nhymn, and by the time this was done, Abe was ready with his text, which\nhe announced and again started to speak, but with no greater success,\nfor it seemed as if all his ideas were gone wool-gathering.  He\ncoughed, stammered, and sweat at every pore, but brought forth nothing\nelse; an encouraging word or two from one of the brethren was very\nwelcome at that moment, for looking towards him, Abe said, \"She weant\ngoa, but we'll try another.\"\n\nTwice breaking down in one service would have satisfied any ordinary\nman in his circumstances, and so daunted many as that they would never\nhave been heard of again; but Abe was no ordinary man, and was not soon\nkilled; he had come there to try to preach, and it was evident to\neveryone that he was trying; he knew that if he made another attempt he\ncould not do worse than he had done, and he might do better, and if he\ndid break down there would not be anything very unusual in it, seeing\nit would make the third time, so he found another text and announced\nit.  Everybody was wide awake and ready for another stop, but Abe\nsmiled, brightened up, and went on; \"She's baan to goa this time, I do\nbelieve,\" said he, and so it proved, for when he got into his subject\nhe spoke very fluently, sensibly, and naturally, and all present felt\nthat Abe could preach when he got started, and how could he or any one\nelse preach without starting?\n\nA short time after this eventful service Abe had to pass through\nanother trying ordeal.  His case had to come before the Circuit\nquarterly meeting, the tribunal which has made many an innocent man\ntremble.  There he had to be examined as to his acquaintance with and\nbelief in the Methodist doctrines, rules, etc.  What may have been the\nmerits of this examination we are unable to state; probably there was a\ngood deal of leniency shown by the meeting towards Abe.  If he was\ndeficient on some points, he compensated in others; if he could not\ndefine and defend all the articles of our faith, he could believe them\nas fully as any one else; be that as it may, there was no serious\nobjection taken to him on the ground of his examination, but the affair\nof the trial sermon was not so soon got over, and a good deal of\nspecial pleading had to be done for him by his friends, which is no\nunusual thing when the merits of a candidate are under discussion.\nThat \"swapping of texts\" no less than three times was a very\nextraordinary feature in the case, and called forth some severe\ncensures.  A man that did so could not be fit to come on the Circuit\nplan as an accredited local preacher, so some in the meeting felt and\nsaid; but others thought differently; they could not but admit that\nunder the circumstances he had done a good thing even in changing texts\nthe third time, and why impeach the man for doing a good thing?  The\nman who changes horses in crossing a stream may incur great risks; but\nif the horse he is riding be sinking under him, he must change seats or\nsink too, and this is just what Abe did, and the outcome showed that he\ndid the best thing, for the third horse carried him over.  He at least\npossessed an amount of perseverance which few men in similar\ncircumstances would have exhibited; then he must not be estimated\nsolely by what he was when under trial in High Street chapel.  How had\nhe done in other places?  Here the tide began to tell in his favour, as\nfirst one and then another spoke in commendation of his labour in other\nplaces, and at length Brother Haigh rose and said, \"Abe Lockwood was\nwith me on Sunday night at Mills Bridge; I heard him preach, and he did\nmy soul good.  After the sermon an old man seventy years of age came\nout, sought the Lord, and found Him; that old man was impressed under\nAbe's sermon, which shows that God can do with his preaching.  What\nmatter if he does sometimes break down in his sermons? he knows how to\nbreak sinners down too, and after all, that is the best sort of\npreaching.\"  He was at once cordially received into the ranks of the\nlocal preachers, and appeared as such in January 1837; and from that\ntime to the end of his life was as earnest, devoted, and popular as any\nman among that band, as worthy a band of men as ever worked a Methodist\ncircuit.\n\nSo Abe became a local preacher, and while he always felt and said that\nthe office honoured him, he, on the other hand, did his utmost to\nhonour the position which the Church had called him to occupy.\nMethodism owes very much to those brave, earnest, and godly men who\nhave, during all her history, through all her struggles, laboured\ncheerfully on, year after year, often at immense personal sacrifice and\nsuffering, carrying the tidings of salvation to outstanding districts,\nwhich would seldom have heard the Gospel but for their disinterested\nservices.  Their toils cannot have been for worldly honours, where\ncould they win them?  They cannot have been for pecuniary gain, because\ntheir labours have ever been gratuitous, and often expensive to\nthemselves;--pelted with hailstones, dripping with rain, torn by\nstorms, blistered with sun-heat, in all parts of the land, over miles\nof barren hills and wild moor, through dirty lanes and new-ploughed\nfields, giving ungrudgingly of their strength; Sunday after Sunday\nleaving the home enjoyments of their family and the sanctuary to carry\nthe Gospel of Christ to those afar off.  What will the Master do to\nthose brave labourers of His in the day of award?  He will make them\ngreat in the Kingdom of Heaven.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nIn Practice.\n\nWe may now consider that Abe had really commenced practice as a local\npreacher, and before long the numerous demands made upon him\nprofessionally showed the estimation in which he was held among the\npeople.  But there was one thing which gave him considerable trouble,\nand that was his preparation for the pulpit.  This was a great toil to\nhim, but he counted himself abundantly rewarded when he found that God\nmade his simple, earnest sayings a blessing to the people to whom he\npreached.  Abe had no quiet room in his house into which he could\nretire for the purpose of meditation.  His home was full of children,\nand each of the little rooms resounded with their merry or troubled\noutcries from morning till night.  His study was elsewhere.  There was\none spot more sacred to him than any other in the world, and that was\nat the old tree-root on Almondbury Common, where, years before, he\nfound the blessing of Divine pardon.  To that Bethel he often turned\nhis steps, and there would he run through his sermons with no audience\nbut the old tree and the little brook; and although his earnest\naddresses produced no manifest change either on the stoical old elm, or\nthe unstable stream, the practice of speaking did him good, and helped\nto make him more effective when he came to address a more appreciative\nassembly.\n\nHis frequent visits to this sacred and secret spot began, by-and-by, to\nbe known among his acquaintances, and some of them determined to go and\nwatch him, and make fun of it.  They accordingly went and hid\nthemselves where they could both see and hear all that passed.  Abe\ncame and began the service, prayed and preached with great liberty,\nconsidering the irresponsive audience before him; but while he was\npreaching and pointing out the folly and danger of sin, and exhorting\nto repentance, his words were reaching unknown ears, and searching\ntheir way into more hearts than he was aware of.  These spies were\ncaught in their own net; they felt the truth of the simple preaching.\nThey knew those words applied more to themselves than anything else.\nThey listened in fear and silence, and when they would gladly have got\nbeyond the sound of his voice, they dared not move lest he should\ndiscover them, and make his discourse even more personal.  When the\npreacher had prayed earnestly, and had retired from his rural\nsanctuary, the hidden and moveable part of his congregation were glad\nto get away.  Some of the callous ones endeavoured afterwards to chaff\nAbe about the open-air service, but most of them were glad to say\nnothing on the subject, inwardly determining never again to venture\nprofanely within the sacred precincts of the good man's sanctuary.\n\nAbe gradually grew in the esteem of the people throughout the entire\nCircuit, so that his coming to preach was quite an event of interest\namong them.  They knew he was in earnest for his Master's glory; and\nthough he sometimes said and did things which some men would shrink\nfrom, and some would condemn if done by others, no one was displeased\nat them in little Abe.  He was a favourite, and special privileges were\naccorded him, so that he could say and do just as he pleased.  He knew\nthis quite well, and, though he seldom fell into the error of using it\nas a license, it had the effect of bringing him out in his own true\ncharacter.\n\nSometimes he became very happy in the pulpit, and fairly jumped for\njoy.  He was preaching at Shepley, and, as was his frequent custom, he\nhad a brother local preacher in the pulpit with him, to assist in the\npreliminary exercises.  On this occasion our old friend T. Holden acted\nas his curate.  Abe was blessed with great liberty during the delivery\nof the sermon: he wept, clapped his hands, stamped his feet, and\nrattled his clogs together.  Brother Holden shuffled about to make room\nfor him as well as he could in the narrow area of the pulpit, but he\nwas not quick enough; down came Abe's foot on the curate's toes, almost\ncapsizing the preacher, without in the least disconcerting him.  \"Moind\nthee toas, lad, steam's up, I mun jump a bit.\"  And he did jump, the\nmore freely, too, when his assistant retired from his exalted position,\nand left him all the pulpit to himself.  It is evident from this little\nevent just narrated, and others which might be given, that Abe did, in\ntime, overcome his nervousness in the pulpit; being \"plogged,\" and\n\"breaking down,\" became things of the past, and he began to feel as\nmuch at home in the pulpit as in his own house.  So far did he show\nthat \"practice makes perfect.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\n\"Butterfly Preachers.\"\n\nAbe had no sympathy with men who allowed themselves to be called\npreachers, and yet could treat with indifference the work which was\nallotted to them on the Circuit plan; men who seldom made their minds\nup to go to their work, until they saw what kind of weather it was\nlikely to be; men who didn't like going out in the rain for fear of\ngetting damp, nor in the wind because it exhausted them, nor in the sun\nbecause it broiled them, nor in the dark for fear they might miss their\nway.  He called them \"Butterfly preachers,\" and often declared he would\nbe ashamed to be counted among them.\n\nYet he did not lay all the blame of their conduct upon the shoulders of\nthese men, because he thought the people helped in some measure to put\n\"butterfly notions\" into their minds.  If a good man came to his\nappointment through the rain and wind, and got somewhat badly used by\nthe weather, someone was almost sure to say something to frighten and\ndishearten him from ever doing so again.  \"Oh dear, have you come in\nall this rain?  Well, I hardly thought you would be here; nobody could\nblame you for staying at home on such a day; you are very wet, you'll\nbe sure to take cold and be laid up,\" and Abe used to say that kind of\ntalk was enough to give a chill to any man, and tempt him to stay at\nhome next time for fear it might rain.\n\nIt did not make any difference to him, however; he went in all\nweathers, rain or sunshine, winter and summer.  There is a little ditty\nhe used to sing--\n\n  \"Come rain or come blow,\n  A Methodist preacher, I must go.\"\n\nOne Sunday morning he was planned to preach at Shepley, and it was\npouring down rain.  He, however, set off under his umbrella; but long\nbefore he reached his destination he was drenched to the skin.  Prior\nto going into the chapel he called at the house where he was going to\ndine that day; the good woman was grieved to see him in such a\ncondition.  \"Dear me,\" said she, \"you are almost drowned; come in, take\nyour wet clothes off, and go to bed.\"  \"Nay, nay,\" replied Abe, \"yo'\nmun't tak' me for a butterfly preacher; I'm noan going to bed i'\ndayloight, I'm baan to praach.\"  And turning to her husband, who was a\nbig man, he said, \"Thaa mun lend me some o' thy claathes.\"  The\nproposal to adorn himself in his host's clothes seemed so ridiculous,\nconsidering that Abe was a little man, that both husband and wife\nlaughed right out.  \"Aye,\" said the man, \"thou would look a queer\nbutterfly going into th' pulpit in my wings.\"  But Abe wasn't to be put\noff: \"Come,\" said he, \"thaa mun foind me some o' thy claathes.\"  They\nfound him a spare suit, and in a few minutes he came downstairs fully\nattired, and presenting such a figure that the man and his wife were\nalmost ill with laughing at him.  It signified nothing to Abe who\nlaughed or who didn't; off he went to chapel.  He was a few minutes\nlate, and most of the congregation were in their places.  He was\ntherefore very eager to get to the pulpit; but in going across the\nchapel for this purpose, one of his borrowed shoes slipped off, which\nbrought him to a sudden standstill, and caused special attention to be\ndrawn to his singular outfit; and the moment the people comprehended\nthe state of things, it was impossible to suppress a laugh in old or\nyoung; and yet while they laughed at his odd figure, their hearts\nwarmed towards him as they thought of his zeal in coming so far, on\nsuch a day, to preach to them.\n\nThat morning Abe had a good time in the pulpit.  He was very lively,\nand knocked about a good deal; but it was noticed that he had\nfrequently to be looking down on the pulpit floor, and shuffling about\nwith his feet.  It afterwards came out, that, in his excited moments,\nhe had dropped his shoes off, and in getting them on again, had mixed\nthem, and put his feet into the wrong receptacles.  This occasioned him\na considerable amount of inconvenience, which ultimately exhausted his\npatience.  He kicked the shoes aside, and said, \"I have been trying all\nth' mornin' to stand in another man's shoes, and I canna' manage it;\nI'm in borrowed claathes, too, but, thank God, my sermon is my own.\"\nThis little diversion set him off in another direction, and he turned\nthe incident to such good and practical account, showing that Jesus\nonce stood in our place and bore our stripes, that many have long\nremembered that service with very great pleasure.\n\n\nTOILING ON.\n\nOn one occasion, when going to a distant appointment, his zeal was put\nto the test in such a degree that surely he would have been excusable\nif he had turned back and gone home again.  Abe had a dread of\ndisappointing a congregation.  He used to say, \"If I slip them once,\ntwo to one they'll pay me back; noa, I mun goa.\"\n\nHe had to set out one Sunday morning in a pelting rain for a walk of\nabout six miles.  It had been raining more or less for several days;\nthe roads were in a sad condition for a \"travelling praacher,\" as he\noften styled himself.  The streams by the roadside were swollen over,\nand pouring their abundance out on the highroad, until it was very\nlittle better than a bog.  Under these circumstances the wet soon found\nits way through Abe's boots and clothes.  \"Ne'er moind,\" he said to\nhimself, \"I'll find some dry claathes when I get there.\"  So on he went\nover the rough bleak hill that wouldn't afford shelter for a rabbit,\nmuch less for a man, down the steep slope, through the running gutters\nof water.  \"Aye dear,\" said he, \"I'm weshing my feet withaat taking my\nbooits off.\"  At the bottom of the hill, known as Stone's Wood Bottom,\nhe was brought to a standstill.  Along this bottom runs the river which\ntakes the course of the valley through Berry Brow, before named; it was\nhere spanned by a good strong bridge, having a wall on either side.\nThe water in the river had risen so high with the rainfall, that it ran\nright over the bridge at both ends, and threatened to carry it away;\nall the low ground about the bridge was under water to some depth, and\nhereby Abe was brought to a halt.  His only way was over that bridge,\nand now that was not available.  \"Well,\" thought he, \"I'm done this\ntime; haa can I get over?\"  Further up and down the river was swollen,\nover its boundaries, and was out into the fields, while at the bridge\nit rushed along like a torrent.  \"Naa, Lord,\" Abe began, \"Thaa knows\nwhere I'm plann'd to-day, and Thaa knows this is my only rooad to th'\nplace; that's Thy watter, and I'm Thy sarvant; I mun be over somehaa;\ntak' care o' my body while I try.\"  And into the water he plunged, and\nmade straight for the bridge.  On reaching this he tucked his umbrella\nunder one arm, and climbed up on the wall of the bridge, and scrambled\nacross on his hands and knees, while the torrent rushed along\nunderneath at a horse-pace.  Had he fallen into the water he would\nprobably have been found drowned on one of the banks down the river,\nbut it was not permitted.  \"Bless the Lord,\" he exclaimed, when he was\nsafe on the other side, \"I'm over!  Ah! but I'll do better nor that\nwhen I come to pass the swellings o' Jordan!  Hallelujah!  I'll go over\nJordan withaat wetting a threead on me!\"\n\nSo thou wilt, Abe.  Jordan's waves could not harm a brave, God-fearing,\nand God-honouring man like thee; they know a true-born saint by the\ntramp of his foot in the darkest night of death, and on his approach,\nthey fall back into line like Royal Guards when the king goes past.\n\n  \"Though waves and storms go o'er my head,\n  Though strength, and health, and friends be gone;\n  Though joys be withered all and dead,\n  Though every comfort be withdrawn;\n  On this my steadfast soul relies,\n  Father, Thy mercy never dies.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nVarious Ways out of Difficulties.\n\nAlmost any one can get into trouble, but it is not always so easy for\nany one to get out again.  Abe knew both ways,--the way in and the way\nout,--and many a time he had to run the gauntlet, and save himself as\nbest he could.\n\nThere is an amusing story told of a little passage which the Rev. P. J.\nWright once had with him.  They met on a Sunday morning at the Honley\nrailway station.  Mr. Wright was at that time Superintendent of the\nCircuit, and was on his way to preach at Woodroyd, whilst Abe was going\nto Honley on a similar errand.  After exchanging the ordinary\nsalutations, the reverend gentleman said, \"Well, Abe, what are you\ngoing to give them at Honley this morning?\"  On being informed of Abe's\nsubject, he further inquired how he intended to treat it; whereupon his\ncompanion began to give an outline of his sermon.  When he had\nfinished, his interrogator rejoined, \"Why, you are wrong, altogether,\nAbe, you must change the order of your divisions, and put the first\nlast, and the last first; you have got the cart before the horse.\"\n\"Ne'er moind,\" said Abe, \"I'll back her up th' hill.  Good-morning,\nsir.\"  \"Cart before the horse\" was no insuperable difficulty with Abe;\nhe knew how to manage his own pony, and must drive in his own way; he\nwas not very particular which came first so long as he could \"mak' her\ngoa.\"  He took what suited his mind best, and paid very little\nattention to the rules of sermonizing; he was in this respect a law\nunto himself, and the favour with which his humble ministrations were\nreceived was a sufficient excuse for him.\n\nWe have heard a sermon described as a thing having three or more heads;\nit is said to be sometimes altogether void of body or matter of any\nsort; at other times it appears as a skeleton, without form or\ncomeliness, having only the barest outline.  Perhaps this in some\nmeasure explains why some people so seldom attend our places of\nworship; they fear to come _within the reach_ of a sermon, and\ntherefore stay away,--they have heard of some persons that have been\n_actually struck_ with a sermon, and of others _being fastened to their\nseats_ by it; how dreadful!  Ah, anything will do for an excuse when\npeople don't want to go to the Lord's house; \"a poor excuse is said to\nbe better than none at all,\" but in this case we doubt the wisdom of\nthat saying.\n\nAbe Lockwood was not very particular about the number of heads in his\nsermons, or whether they had any heads at all; his care was that the\nsermon should have some soul in it, wherefrom mainly resulted his power\nin the pulpit.\n\nThere is sometimes very great danger of sermonizing all the force out\nof a discourse; making it so very proper that it serves more as an\nornament than a thing of practical use; it appears more a work of _art_\nthan a work of _heart_.  Abe didn't profess to understand the rules of\nsermonizing, nor did he make any particular effort in that direction;\nas may be supposed, therefore, he was often disconnected and irregular,\nbut he knew nothing about it, and nobody else cared; people liked him\nas he was.  His sentences were not like beautiful stones turned and\npolished by the hand of a lapidary, but they were rough lumps, in all\nshapes, broken from the great rock of Gospel truth, having their sharp\npoints and jagged edges on them; the consequence being that when slung\nfrom the hand of this humble champion they left a mark wherever they\nstruck.  He didn't care for that round, smooth kind of preaching which\nalways rolls off; he liked the word to strike, mark, and abide where it\nfell.  He had no sympathy with high-flown sermons which shut out the\nCross of Jesus and those good old Gospel truths associated with that\ndear emblem of God's love to the world.  If such a discourse were\ndelivered in his hearing he was sure to say something about it.\n\"Praacher brought us a lot of butterflies and fancy birds and let 'em\nfly abaat th' chapel, and while we wore starin' abaat after th' birds,\nwe niver gat a soight o' th' Cross.\"\n\nA young student from Ranmoor College came to preach at Berry Brow.  Abe\nwas in the vestry waiting to see him before he went into the pulpit.\nHe shook him warmly by the hand and blessed him, then added in his own\ndroll but kind way, \"Naa, my lad, don't let's hav' ony starry heavens\nt' day, tak' us t' th' Cross!\"  Had Abe known this young man he would\nalso have known there was no need to exhort him to \"tak' them t' th'\nCross.\"  The fact was, Abe didn't want to follow any astronomical\npreacher all through the heavens, striding from star to star with\nscales in his hand trying their weight, sizes, and distances!  \"The\nCross\" was his watchword and rallying-point; there he loved to begin,\nand there he would always end.  Christ the Redeemer was his star, and\nin the clear unclouded view of that Divine orb he was happy whoever was\nthe preacher.\n\n\n\"PUCKER IT IN, LADS.\"\n\nIn his pulpit exercises Abe generally enjoyed great self-command, and\nthings which would have disabled many a man in the same position, had\nlittle or no effect on him.  This was not always the case, as we shall\nhave occasion to show, but usually nothing disturbed the even balance\nof his mind.  We have already seen how if a text \"wouldn't goa,\" he\ncould \"swap\" for another that would \"goa.\"  So if he failed to get hold\nof a thought which had been in his mind before, he did not trouble\nhimself about the matter; he would just tell the people \"he had\nforgotten th' next idea,\" and then pass on to something else.\n\nHis self-possession stood him in good stead one day, and helped to\ncarry others through a trouble as well.  He was in one of the country\npulpits, and had just announced the second hymn, which was a long\nmetre.  The choir commenced to sing a common metre tune to the hymn,\nbut before they had got through the second line they found out the\nmistake, and one after another dropped their voices and ceased to sing.\nOne tenacious brother, who did not like to be beaten, held on, and made\na jumble of the words for a few moments, and then he stopped; whereupon\nAbe clapped his hands, and turning around to the choir, he exclaimed,\n\"Ne'er moind, lads, pucker it in! pucker it in!  Onybody can mak' a\nlong metre tune goa to a long metre hymn, but yo' mun beat that,\" and\nthen he joined heartily in the puckering exercise, and helped them\nthrough their trouble.\n\n\n\"BREAD OF LIFE FREE.\"\n\nAt another time he had been preaching about the Gospel being the bread\nof life for the world, and showing up its qualities and worth;\nespecially did he dwell upon its freeness for all, that it could be had\n\"without money and without price;\" this was his last point, and he made\nmuch of it.  Now it so happened that immediately on concluding his\nsermon he had to announce a collection.  On sitting down in the pulpit\nwhile it was being made, the thought flashed into his mind that he had\ncontradicted his own teachings by announcing that collection.  He knew\nwhere the snare had come from, and at once in his own way broke it\nasunder.  Rising again to his feet and bending over the pulpit front,\nhe cast his eyes around the chapel as if trying to find someone.  \"I\nknow that voice,\" he began, \"it's the devil's.\"  Every eye was on him\nin a moment.  \"What does thaa say?\"  \"That I ha' not been spaking th'\ntruth, because I telled them th' bread of life wor free, and naa I'm\nasking th' people to pay for it.  Thaa knaws as weall as I do th' bread\nis FREE, but we mun pay for th' baking.  Mak' th' collection, friends,\nto pay for th' baking, and ne'er moind him.\"  We need hardly say the\npeople gave willingly to this collection, for they knew very well that\nthough the Gospel was free to the whole world, expenses were incurred\nin carrying on God's work which they should help to disburse, so Abe\ngot out of that difficulty.\n\n\n\"MY GOD SHALL SUPPLY ALL YOUR NEED.\"\n\nThe Wesleyan Superintendent Minister was planned to preach one\nweek-night near Berry Brow, and on some account he could not attend.  A\nsubstitute had to be found, and Abe was waited on during the day, to\nsee if he would act in that capacity.  \"I'll try,\" he said, and\naccordingly when the time came he set out for the chapel.  Some of the\ncongregation knew who was to preach, others did not.  At length the\ndoor opened, and in walked Abe, and made straight for the pulpit,\nclamp, clamp, with his wooden clogs on the floor and up the pulpit\nstairs.  He began the service with the usual smile on his face; then he\nannounced his text, \"My God shall supply all your need,\" and closed the\nBible as he always did as soon as the text was read.  \"Naa,\" said he,\n\"I knaw some o' yo are disappointed at seeing me here instead of your\npraacher, but it was oather me or nobody.  Naa, if th' travelling\npraacher had come to-noight, he moight easily ha' praached a much\nbetter sermon than I can, but I'll defy him or onybody else to foind a\ngrander text than this; it's a raight un, and it's your own fault if\nyou doan't get some good aat on't: if the Lord had thought you _needed_\nit, He would have sent you somebody better than me, for He will supply\nall your need.\"  The congregation saw at once the condition they would\nhave been in if Abe had not come to their help.  They smiled at his\nremarks, and from that moment forgot their disappointment, nor did they\nthink of it again during all that service.  Thus Abe's tact in managing\npeople helped him happily through this difficulty, as it had through\nmany others in his lifetime.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nAbe's Titles and Troubles.\n\nIt is time we said something on this subject, as we are come to the\nstage in his life when he began to be known by various dignified\necclesiastical titles.  He loved his own plain name, Abe Lockwood,\nbetter than any other, and therefore wanted no improvement.  That was\nthe name in the roll of the Church, and that was the name written in\nthe Lamb's book of life; he wanted no other.  If any one addressed him\nas Mr. Lockwood he would often break in, \"They call me Abe Lockwood!\"\nand this was no pretended humility on his part, but the expression of a\nsincere preference for the name by which he had always been known among\nhis friends: but the time came when it was impossible for him to resist\nthe universal custom of saluting him by some title, so he had to yield\nto the inevitable.\n\nA story is told, how that on one occasion a parcel of clothes came to\nthe house for his wife and children.  It was wrapped in strong brown\npaper, and on the address-label was written \"Abraham Lockwood, Esq.\"\nSoon after this, he was taking part in a public meeting in the place\nfrom which the present was supposed to have come, and in his speech he\nthanked the unknown donor; and having done this, he proceeded to\ncorrect a mistake which, he said, had occurred; the person who sent him\nthat parcel had addressed him as Esquire.  \"Naa,\" said he, \"I doan't\nstand much upon titles, but if I am to have ony, I think I ought to\nhave what falls to me by my birth.  Yo' know, I'm a Prince of th' Royal\nFamily, I'm a King's Son, my Father is th' King of Glory, and no man\ncan say that, unless he is born of God, and I am, Hallelujah!\"\nAlthough there may not be anything original in this, yet the happy way\nin which he worked it into his speech, and the use he made of it to\nshow the necessity of the new birth, was exceedingly pleasing.\n\nThe title of \"Bishop,\" or \"Bishop of Berry Brow,\" was one of those by\nwhich he became familiarly known.  This arose out of the position he\nheld in the society there, almost like that of father among the\nmembers, and also from the amount of preaching he did all over the\nCircuit.  Although this very reverend title brought him no increase to\nhis stipend, nor any change in his social standing, it helped to show\nthe general feeling with which he was everywhere regarded.\n\nBut the designation by which he was most familiarly known was \"LITTLE\nABE.\"  This came into every-day use, and was unconsciously adopted by\nalmost every person either in speaking to him, or speaking of him.\nEven the little children in the streets and in the Sunday Schools,\nhearing it from their elders, insensibly fell into the habit of styling\nhim \"Little Abe.\"\n\nAs this title is somewhat expressive of size, it may be well to convey\nsome idea of\n\n\nABE'S PERSONAL APPEARANCE\n\nHe was below the average height and of slender build, yet withal a\ntough little man, and capable of performing as much work, and enduring\nas great fatigue, as men who are much bigger and stouter made.  Abe\nused playfully to say, \"Good stuff is mostly wrapped in small parcels.\"\n\"A penny is a great deal bigger than a sovereign, but yo' all know\nwhich to tak' when yo' have your choice.\"  \"I'm nobbut a little un, but\nbless God, I'm big enough for th' Holy Ghost to dwell in.\"  \"I doan't\ntak' up much room in th' world, but I'm as happy as if I were as big as\nBerry Braa Church.\"  \"I'm a little un mysen, but my Father is greater\nthan all.\"\n\nHis face was one of the happiest it was ever our good fortune to meet\nwith.  A smooth, round, ruddy, comfortable face, over which the razor\nhad almost unlimited sway; his mouth was always in shape for a smile;\nhis eyes were of a light blue colour, and twinkled with life and\nvivacity; his hair was always brushed back behind his ears, terminating\nbehind in a pretty little natural curl and whether it had the black\ngloss of his younger days, or the snowy white of old age, it was always\nneat and orderly.  In early life he was very proud of his hair, and\nbestowed a great deal of care in its cultivation and arrangement.  When\nhe became converted, Abe's hair underwent a marvellous change.  The\nbeautiful locks which had been so much admired and preserved with such\ncare, were roughly taken off by the family scissors and thrown into the\nfire, and while they frizzled into smoke, Abe felt he had done the\nright thing in casting down every idol and putting away every mark of\npride.  Many and many a time in after years would he say to his wife,\n\"Naa then, lass, where's th' shears?  Thaa mun clip my locks agean.\nSamson gat clipt by his wife, and he were worth nought after, but thy\nshears mak's me strong.\"  Then Sally would gently snip the ends of the\ncurling fringe all around, while Abe, by way of encouraging her, would\nput in, \"We mun shun th' appearance of evil, thaa knows; cut a bit\nmore, lass;\" and then she would very reluctantly sever another lock or\ntwo, until he could be persuaded enough was taken off.\n\nAbe was in the latter part of his life particularly neat in his attire,\nwearing an orthodox suit of black cloth, and cut in the Methodist\npreacher style.  He wasn't at all sparing in white neckcloth, for he\nwore one that travelled around and around his neck in such profusion,\nthat it might have been intended as an extra security against the loss\nof his head.  Altogether he was quite the type of an old-fashioned\nMethodist preacher.  In the pulpit his appearance was exceedingly\nprepossessing; he always had a smile on his face while talking, as if\nhe thoroughly enjoyed the good news he was telling to others.  In\nbeginning to speak, or when about to say something which he thought\nparticularly good, he had a way of holding his head a little over on\none side, and clapping his hands together.  These movements,\naccompanied with an occasional shrug of his shoulders, were among the\ngeneral signs that the \"Little Bishop\" was having a good time, and when\nAbe was happy in his work, everyone that heard him had a liberal share\nof enjoyment and profit as well.  But of course, like other men, he\nsometimes felt the misery of preaching in what he quaintly and\nappropriately called\n\n\n\"THE TIGHT JACKET.\"\n\nTaking into account the want of education from which he suffered, the\ndisadvantages he was at in preparing for his public duties, as well as\nother occasional depressing circumstances, we cannot wonder that he\nshould sometimes have been the subject of the most painful restraints,\nlikened by him to a \"tight jacket.\"  There was a wonderful difference\nin his preaching when he had one of these \"hard times,\" and when he\nenjoyed liberty.  If in the latter mood, as was generally the case, his\ntongue was like the pen of a ready writer, and streams of beautiful\ntruth, sparkling with pious humour and accompanied with striking\noriginal illustrations, would pour from his lips; but if he had the\n\"tight jacket\" on, he could scarcely say anything, and it was a pain to\nlisten to him.\n\nPoor Abe had one of these \"pulpit fevers\" in Salem Chapel one day, and\nSally, his wife, was there; she sat all the time in a nervous torment,\nand as soon as he had finished, she rushed off out of the place ashamed\nof him.  Dear woman, her homely criticisms were sometimes very severe\nupon him, partly because she was jealous for his reputation, and partly\nbecause she so loved him, and that was her way of showing the ardour of\nher affection; she used a liberty which by some universal law falls to\nthe right of all affectionate wives whose husbands are preachers, and\nshe occasionally said some very terrible things to him about his\nsermons.  On this particular day, therefore, Abe knew pretty well that\nwhen he got home he would get something besides his dinner.  He winced\nas he thought about it, and made the walk home as long as he could, in\nthe hope that something might cool down a bit; however, he had to go\nin, so, shrinking into the smallest possible dimensions, he glided\nsilently into the house, hung up his hat, and sat down.  Sally was in a\nflutter, she was full, it must come:--\"What hast ta been trying to do\nthis mornin'?\" she began, looking hard at him.\n\n\"Why, I couldn't mak' her goa a bit somehaa,\" meekly replied her good\nman.\n\n\"Goa!  No, haa does th' think she could goa, thaa niver gat her on her\nfeet.\"\n\nAbe made no response, but sat mute in his misery, and poor Sally felt a\nreaction setting in, which made her feel as if she had allowed her\nardent affection for him to carry her too far.  Meanwhile, she was\nbustling about preparing the dinner, and when all was ready, she went\nover to him, and kissed his forehead, adding, \"Naa, lad, come and get\nth' dinner, and don't moind what folk say; thaa'll do better next\ntoime, th' Lord help the'.\"  Abe was healed by a touch.\n\nAh, but he didn't like those dry, hard times, when he couldn't find a\nhandful of green-meat to give to the Lord's dear sheep, and it would\ntrouble him deeply to think that he had led the flock to expect green\npasture, whereas he had only brought them to feed among rocks and\nstones.  Then the old enemy would beset him, and say what an old fool\nhe was to think he could preach; that the people only laughed at him\nand made sport of his sayings, and that he had better give up\npreaching, and try no more.  But Abe would say, \"Why, devil, thaa 'rt\nvary much troubled abaat my praaching; if I'm such an old fool as thaa\nmak's aat, I canna do the' so much harm.\"  But all the banter and\nstrife he had with the devil did not conquer that arch-enemy; talking\nto him is mostly waste time and ill-spent breath; there is another way\nwhich a good man has of finding relief; he can go to God in prayer.\nThis was Abe's sure refuge; here he vented his trouble, here he got\ncomfort, here he gained fresh strength, and when he came warm from the\ncloset struggle to the pulpit work he was another man.  After passing\nthrough one of these temptations, he was almost sure to tell the\npeople, the next time he preached, how the devil had harassed him, and\nwanted him to give up preaching, but how the Lord had bidden him to go\non, and on he would go and did; his restraints were broken, his tongue\nloosed, and his soul fired, it was a joy to hear him then.\n\nHe was one day rejoicing in his regained liberty, when he said, \"Aye,\nbless yo', I wor as fast as a thief in a man-trap; I couldn't get away\ntill th' Lord came and let me aat.\"  And then turning upon the unsaved\npart of his congregation, he used a simile, which, on his behalf, I\nclaim to be original if not elegant.  Said he, \"Yo' may think I was\nfast enough, but let me tell yo', not hoalf as fast as some of yo'\nsinners.  Yo' are like a flee\" (fly) \"in a treacle-pot; the more he\nkicks the faster he sticks.\"  And there was truth in the saying, and\nalthough the figure might amuse, the moral would remain in many a mind\nfor after-thought.\n\n\nTHE BLACK CLOTH SUIT.\n\nWhen Abe had been some time preaching, and was making a good name for\nhimself in the Circuit, a desire began to be felt by many of the\nfriends to hear him in High Street Chapel, Huddersfield.  This was\nbefore the present splendid sanctuary was erected.  Accordingly when\nthe next plan came out, he was appointed to take a Sunday morning\nservice.  Many a time did he tell of the consternation both he and\nSally felt on making this discovery.  He was sitting at the end of the\ntable one evening with the plan in his hand marking off his work, and\nhis wife was busy about something in the room, when, all at once, Abe\nexclaimed, \"Eh, lass, what dost ta think they've done?\"\n\nSally looked rather startled and said, \"Who? what?\"\n\n\"Why, they've plann'd me in High Street on a Sunday mornin'.\"\n\n\"Niver!\" gasped Sally, coming to look at the plan herself; \"where is\nit?\"\n\nHe placed his finger on the number which indicated his work, and she\nsaw it was a fact.\n\n\"Well,\" she said, \"thaa canna goa; thaa has no claathes fit to wear\namang them grand foak.\"\n\nNow Abe would never have given his clothes a thought if she had not\nbrought the matter before his mind in the way she did; now, however, he\nremembered his coloured suit and his thick boots, and felt they were\nscarcely befitting the place he was called to occupy, however well they\nmight do among plain people in the country places.  At length he said,\n\"But if I'm plann'd, I mun goa, and if they don't loike my claathes, I\ncanna help 't.\"  Meanwhile the date of the High Street event drew near,\nand the following Sunday would find \"Little Abe\" at his post of duty.\nHe was far more anxious about his work than his appearance, so that all\nthe care on this matter fell upon his wife.  She was bothered sadly\nabout his clothes.  Saturday came, and, poor thing, she was bestowing\nespecial attention upon his old coat, mending button-holes, cleaning\nspots out, brushing, shaking, and scrutinizing the old garments as she\nhad never done before.  That evening they were sitting together, just\nbefore Abe went out to the Band Meeting in the Chapel; a loud knock\ncame to the door.  In a moment Sally opened it, and a man handed her a\nlarge parcel, simply saying, \"That's for Mr. Lockwood,\" and immediately\nwent away.\n\n\"What's this?\" exclaimed Sally, feeling and patting the parcel.\n\n\"Nay, lass, don't ask me; thaa mun open 't, and then I'll tell the'.\"\n\nA table-knife soon severed the string by which it was tied, and the\ngood woman proceeded with nervous fingers to unfold the wrapping, and\nout came a black cloth suit for her husband.  Neither of them could\nspeak for a moment or two; she lifted her apron to wipe her eyes; Abe's\nlip quivered, and his eyes brimmed over; he couldn't help it, big round\ntears fell on his clasped hands as they rested on the table; both of\nthem looked at the parcel.  \"Does the' see that?\" at length said Sally;\n\"thaa'll look loike a travelling praacher naa, lad.\"\n\nThat broke the spell.  Up jumped Abe and began to leap about the house,\nclapping, rubbing his hands, and blessing the Lord.  All the children\njoined the chorus, laughing, jumping, and shouting \"Daddy's got some\nnew claathes!  Daddy's got some new claathes!\" and poor Sally, full of\nsmiles, holding up one garment after another, kept interjecting, \"Well\nI niver!\" \"Law me!\" \"Eh, dear!\"  Abe's heart was full, and he must\nneeds empty it before Him who had inclined some unknown friend to send\nthis handsome and appropriate present just at the right time.  From an\ninner room the voice of the good man was heard going up to God in\ngrateful acknowledgment of His kindness; and the children were hushed\ninto quietness hushed,--hushed while Daddy was praying.  The next day\nAbe appeared in his new clerical attire, and from that time was never\nwithout the requisite black cloth suit in which to go about his beloved\nMaster's work.  Oh, how much we may learn from a little incident like\nthis--how much of humble trust in God under all the circumstances of\nlife, how much assurance that \"your heavenly Father knoweth ye have\nneed of these things,\" and that \"My God will supply all your need!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nA Basket of Fragments.\n\nThe fame of \"Little Abe\" was not confined to his own Circuit, it spread\namong the villages and towns for many miles around, so that he was\ngreatly sought after to preach anniversary and other sermons, and\nwherever he went the people felt he was \"a man sent from God.\"  There\nare some who well remember his first visit to Elland, and the\ndelightful day they had with him in the Lord's house.  His text was,\n\"My God shall supply all your need.\"  He read these words, and then\nclapped his hands together, while his face beamed with smiles.  \"Well,\"\nsaid he, \"do you want me to praach ony after that? what can onybody say\nafter Paul spakes?  He says everything with once opening his maath;\nwith one scratch of his wonderful pen, he writes more than I could\nspake in a lifetoime, if I were left to mysen, 'My God shall supply all\nyour need.'  Friends, there's nowt left, yo've gotton all in that,\nivery thing yo' need, and I reckon you'r weel off.\"\n\nFrom this simple and easy beginning, he gradually got away into his\nsubject, explaining, illustrating, and applying his text in a way that\nwarmed every heart.  He was condemning the want of faith which\ncharacterized some professors: \"Bless yo',\" he said, \"sooiner than aar\nGod would see His faithful children want, He would mak' apple-dumplins\ngrow on ash-trees.\"  And then he exclaimed, \"Don't yo' believe these\nwords?  Ah, 'tis nowt unless yo' believe; you might be eating th'\ndumplins and smackin' your lips on th' apples, but if you doan't\nbelieve, yo'll say it's a dream.  Wake up, and believe naa, and you'll\nfoind your maath is full of good things.\"\n\n\n\"DISH-CLOTH.\"\n\nI have said that some of Abe's similes were not very elegant, and when\nthe following is related, my readers will agree with me; but they were\nwell understood by the people among whom they were uttered.  Speaking\none day of the pardoning mercy of God, and showing that He does not\ngrudgingly forgive the penitent sinner, Abe said, \"Yo' womenfolk know\nhaa to wesh a pie-dish, I reckon?  Yo'll tak' th' dish and put it into\nth' hot waiter, and then tak' dish-cloth and rub it raand and raand,\ninsoide and aatsoide, till it's clean, and then yo'll wipe it wi' a\nclean towel, and mak' it look just loike a bron new dish; and that's\nhaa th' Lord does wi' a poor sinner: He gies him a plunge into th'\nGospel fountain, weshes all his sins away, and brings him aat a bron\nnew man.\"  An old woman sitting there caught the figure in a moment,\nand responded energetically, \"Maa th' Lord tak' th' dishcloth and wipe\nsome aat here t'-noight!\"  \"Amen,\" exclaimed \"the Bishop.\"\n\n\n\"TASTE AND TRY.\"\n\nAbe's remarks on Psalm xxxiv. 8, \"O taste and see that the Lord is\ngood,\" etc., were very characteristic.  \"David was nooan a bad man to\ndeal with; he didn't try to deceive onybody and mak' them believe a\nlie, like th' devil does; he says, yo' may 'taste and see.'  Naa, that\nought to satisfy yo' particular talk; yo' loike to taste th' butter and\ncheese afore you buy, and if it's gooid, you say, 'I'll tak' a pund o'\nthat;' naa, then, come and try if th' Lord is gooid.  Aye, bless yo',\nHe is gooid!  He's as fresh as th' morning dew, and sweet as new\ncream,\" and then with a quaint look he would add, \"and there's a deal\nmore on Him than you often foind on your milk.\"\n\nHe used to say that religion could be tested in two ways;--you can\ntaste it yoursen, and you can see it in others.  See what it has done\nfor your neighbours--how it has changed th' lion into a lamb, th'\nraving sot into a sober and happy man; weshed th' tongue and purified\nth' heart o' th' blasphemer, and filled th' maath of the dumb with\nsongs of thanksgiving, see!--\"See that the Lord is good!\"  Then raising\nhis voice and reaching out his arm he would exclaim, \"There's noan so\nbloind as those that weant see! but remember, yo' weant always be able\nto play th' bloind man, God will crack a thunderbolt close to your ear\nsome day, and yo'll open your eyes to see th' judgment before yo', and\nthen what will yo' say?\"\n\nHis only aim in what he said was to reach the people's hearts and bring\nthem to decision for Christ; that was the reward he coveted, nothing\nmore, nothing less; only let him see sinners coming to Jesus, and he\nwas happy.  He would stay all night by a penitent, and never leave\nuntil he knew the poor soul was safe in the kingdom of God.  Time was\nnothing to him; the long, dark journey home brought no misgivings to\nhis mind.  When his work was done, and another soul safe in the arms of\nJesus, the humble village preacher would take his stick, or, as he\nsometimes called it, his pony, and set off home, where many a time he\narrived faint and tired in the dead of the night, but with his soul\nfull of that peace which only a man feels who has ungrudgingly laid his\nlast remnant of energy at the feet of his Divine Master.\n\n\n\"WHO'S BEEN HERE?\"\n\n\"Little Abe\" used everything that came to hand in order to make the\nGospel plain, and enforce its teachings upon his hearers.  Zeal for the\nwork, and a devout bias to his mind, enabled him to find religious\nteaching in many things, wherein perhaps others would never have\ndiscovered any.\n\nHe was in one of his sermons exhorting the people to watch against the\ndevil, lest he should gain an entrance to their hearts and spoil the\nwork of God.  \"Naa,\" said he, \"I'll tell yo' some'at.  Aar lads\" (his\nown sons) \"took a fancy for a bit of garden; we had a little patch of\ngraand by aar haase; well, they set to wark, mended th' fence all\nraand, dug up th' soil, threw aat th' stones and rubbish, raked it over\nand marked it aat into beds, and planted flaars, and you may depend t'\nlads wor praad o' their wark; for mony a week they kept doin a bit\nnoights and mornin's to keep it raight.  By-and-bye, flaars came into\nbloom, pinks, panseys, and other things came aat all over th' garden;\nweren't they praad naa, and so wor I.  One mornin', just afore we were\ngoing t' th' mill, th' big lad went aat to look at th' garden a minute,\nand th' first words he said wor, 'Who's been here?  Who's been here?'\nAat I went, and I wor raight grieved to see all th' garden spoilt,\nflaars broken off, little beds trampled aat o' shape, and th' wark of\nmonths all undone.  I saw in a minute haa it wor: an owd ass had gotten\nin during th' noight and done all th' mischief.  'Haa could he get in,'\nsaid th' lad, 'th' fence was all roight and safe?'  But I said, 'Did ta\nfasten th' gate last noight?'  He looked at th' gate and said, 'I don't\nknaw, father.'  Ah, that wor it, there wor his foot-tracks through th'\ngateway.  Ah, friends, the devil is like an owd ass, goin' skulking and\nshuffling abaat in th' dark when other folks are in bed sleeping, and\nhe is always trying to get into th' Lord's garden and spoil th' flaars;\nyo' may mend th' fence as much as yo loike, but if you don't fasten th'\ngate, he'll be in and undo all th' good wark in your hearts.  Shut th'\ngate, and fasten it; nail it up, raather than let th' owd cuddy get in;\nhe hates everything that is good in nature and grace; he'll spoil th'\nbest wark of God in a single noight; th' track of his owd hoof means\nmischief, and one of his kicks would lame onybody; keep th' devil aat\no' th' heart, fence it raand with prayer; watch against th' enemy, and\nyou'll be roight noight and day.\"\n\n\"When a strong man armed keepeth his palace, his goods are in peace\"\n(Luke xi. 21).\n\n\n\"ELLOW!  WHO'S THERE.\"\n\nAbe had a very quaint and original way of rendering the parable of our\nLord on the importunate neighbour (Luke xi. 5).\n\n\"There was a good man who said one noight to his wife, 'Naa, lass, we\nmun be getting to bed, I ha' to be up i' th' mornin' i' good toime.'\n'Aye,' she said, 'thaa has?'  So she put supper things away, and then\nshe and th' childer sat daan while th' good man read a chapter i' God's\nBook; then they all knelt together at the family altar, and committed\ntheir souls to the keeping of Him who never slumbers nor sleeps.  In a\nlittle while after that they were all in bed and th' candle blown aat;\nthey were just settling daan into sleep, when there came a loud\nknocking at th' front door, ran, tan, tan, tan.  'Ellow! who's there?'\nexclaimed th' good man of th' haase as he raised himself up in bed.\n\n\"'It's me!' answered a voice from th' aatside.\n\n\"'Me, who's me?'\n\n\"'I'm th' neighbour, thaa knaws.'\n\n\"'Aye, and a bonny neighbour thaa is to be comin' here knocking up sich\na row at this toime o' th' noight.'\n\n\"'Why, I'm vary sorry,' chimes in th' voice aatsoide, 'vary sorry to\ntrouble you, but a friend o' mine that's on a journey, has just come to\naar haase, and wants his supper and a noight's lodgings, and we ha'nt a\nmorsel o' bread to set before him, and I want to knaw if thaa'll lend\nus a loaf till my wife bakes.'\n\n\"'Get away hoam wi' the',' replied the man of th' haase.  'I'm i' bed,\nand canna be bothered; candle's aat, and we ha' no matches upstairs; go\nhome and come agean in th' mornin', and I'll lend the' some.  Remember\nme to the' friend, good-noight:' whereupon he shuffles daan into bed\nagean, and tries to compose himsen to sleep.\n\n\"But th' man aatsoide has been and fetched a big thick stick, and with\nthis he starts to hammer th' door laader than ever, till he startles\nall th' sleepers in th' haase.\n\n\"'Naa then, what's th' matter?' shaats th' man from insoide, 'I thought\nthaa war gone hoam.'\n\n\"'Will thaa lend me a loaf till my wife bakes?'  This was said in such\na deliberate, determined voice, that the good man knows in a moment he\nwon't be put off.\n\n\"'What thinks ta, lass?  Mun I get up and gie him one?  I don't believe\nhe'll goa away; he'll bray t' door daan afore dayloight.'\n\n\"While th' wife is rubbing her eyes and hesitating a bit, th' man\naatside rings sich a clash of bells on th' front door, as brought th'\ngood man aat on th' floor in a twinkling.\n\n\"'Hold on! hold on, mon, I'm coming!' and he was off daanstairs to the\ncupboard like a shot, aat with a loaf, unlocked th' front door, handed\nforth th' bread to the man, who was just getting ready for another\nknock.  'I see,' said he, 'thaa weant be put off; tak' this, and go\nhoam wi' the'.'\"\n\nThis story, told in the vernacular of the district, of which this is a\nvery imperfect rendering, and accompanied with Abe's expressive\ngestures, was exceedingly effective, and not easily forgotten.  Nor did\nhe omit the beautiful moral of the parable, showing the necessity of\nprayer, importunate prayer, prayer at all times.  \"Keep knocking!\" Abe\nwould say, \"God is only trying you a bit in not answering first knock;\nit's His way of proving whether you really mean it or not.  Knock\nlaader, pray on and on, He hears, He is coming, bless Him!  He never\nsaid to th' seed of Jacob, 'Seek ye my face in vain.'\"\n\n\n\"PUT UM ON THEESEN.\"\n\nThe Prodigal Son was a favourite subject with the \"Little Bishop,\" and\nmany are the quaint sayings which fell from his lips while dwelling on\nthis interesting parable.  The singular pictures which he drew of this\nyoung man in his degradation brought many a smile on the faces of the\ncongregation.  But his chief aim always was to get the youth back to\nhis father's house again; here his emotions often overpowered him, and\nhis joy was so great that he hardly knew what he was saying.  Many of\nthe friends still remember him on one occasion at Outlane.  He had\nbrought the poor prodigal to the top of a lane leading down to his\nfather's house; there he stood, covered in rags and dirt, his head bare\nand his shoes gone; he is just timidly stopping at the corner of the\nlane debating whether he shall go on or turn back, when at that moment\nout comes the old man to look up and down the road; he sees that bit of\nhuman misery at the lane end, and in an instant recognizes him as his\nson, \"'Mother! mother!' exclaims th' owd man, 'quick! quick! here's aar\nJack standing at top o' th' loin.  Oh, run! run my owd legs, tak' me to\nhim!  Here, Jack, my lad, come to me, the' father wants thee--come,\ncome!'  And in another moment the old man is hurrying with tottering\nsteps and open arms towards his son, and folding him, rags and all, to\nhis bursting heart.\"  It was so real to Abe, and he was so carried away\nwith the picture which was before his vivid imagination, that when he\ngot the lad into the house, he exclaimed, \"Put shoes on his hands, and\nrings on his feet,\"--whereupon a brother in the chapel called out,\n\"Nay, nay, Abe lad, thaa mun't put shoes on th' lad's hands, and th'\nrings on his feet; put um on roight, man.\"  But Abe responded at the\ntop of his voice, while tears came rolling over his face, \"Put um on\ntheesen and let me aloan!  'This, my son, was dead, and is alive again,\nhe was lost and is faand!'\"  By that genuine burst of feeling, he\nreached a climax of eloquence that has seldom been surpassed in the\nhistory of preaching.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\n\"I am a Wonder unto Many.\"\n\nSuch were the words of David in olden times, and with propriety did\n\"Little Abe\" frequently adopt them in his day.  Considering his\ncondition prior to his conversion,--a wild, thoughtless, and wicked\nyoung man, having neither fear of God nor man before his eyes, and then\ncontrasting it with what he had become by the grace of God; remembering\nhis want of education, that he never could write, and by that means\ncommit his thoughts to paper, and yet that his preaching was acceptable\nand profitable to the people, that he drew large congregations wherever\nhe went, some people coming to hear him who seldom attended the places\nat any other time; that he was used by God in bringing many sinners\ninto the fold of Christ, who are now useful members in the Church on\nearth, or enrolled among those who serve God in His temple in heaven,\n\"Little Abe\" really was \"a wonder unto many.\"\n\nA woman once said to him, \"Aye, Abe, I like' to hear the' preach.\"\n\n\"Bless th' Lord for that,\" responded Abe.\n\n\"But,\" continued she, \"I many a toime wonders where thaa gets all th'\nsense from, and haa thaa foinds t' words to say, for thaa's niver been\nto college, nor ony place loike that.\"\n\n\"Who says I wor niver at college?\" he replied.  \"I have been to a\ncollege where they mak' a roight job on um, woman.\"\n\n\"Why, what college hast ta been to?  Not Ranmoor, I'll be baan?\"\n\n\"Noa, not Ranmoor; it would puzzle th' Doctor to mak' onything o' me;\nI've been to th' fisherman's college, where Peter and th' rest on um\nwent.  I've learnt a bit at th' feet o' Jesus, bless Him!\"\n\nYes, he had learnt to devote what little talent he possessed to the\nhighest and happiest service in the universe, and his success as a\nlabourer for Jesus shows that the great Master can make good use of any\nfeeble instrumentality for the spread of truth and the salvation of\nmankind.  \"We have this treasure in earthen vessels that the excellency\nof the power may be of God and not of us,\" was a saying of apostolic\ndays, but as true now as when uttered by St. Paul.  When great scholars\nand brilliant orators or men of extraordinary natural and acquired\nparts become successful as the advocates of our Christian faith, there\nare always some more ready to pay a tribute to the powers of these men,\nthan to the Gospel which they teach, ascribing their success not to the\ninherent power of truth, but to the extraordinary talent of its\nadvocates.  But when men like our friend \"Little Abe\" are raised up for\nthe Lord's work, and the Gospel preached by them becomes mighty in\nchanging the hearts and lives of others, these opponents of our blessed\nreligion are at a loss to find some human arm to which they can ascribe\nthe glory, and while they vainly seek such arm, others can plainly see\n\"that the excellency of the power is of God, and not of us.\"\n\nA great deal of the favour which \"Little Abe\" met with was due to his\n_sincerity_.  He was very droll in his sayings; he was very original in\nhis manner of dealing out truth; his illustrations were mostly drawn\nfrom things in everyday life which everybody understood; his language\nwas the plain home-spun provincialism of the locality where his hearers\nwere born and brought up; but however much may be due to these things,\nthose who knew him best would say, that his almost universal acceptance\nwas due to his undoubted sincerity.  This made everything he said in\nthe pulpit quite proper.  What would appear out of place in any other\nman, was becoming in him; all his odd sayings and gestures were kindly\nreceived, and never an unpleasant feeling was excited in the breast of\nany who really knew the man.\n\nOh, it is a grand thing when a man has so lived and proved himself\namong those around him, that they all feel his religion to be sincere!\nWhat good may not such a man be capable of doing?  He may be unschooled\nand unread, he may be poor, and hold but a humble position in the ranks\nof life, and yet withal, he may exert a power which neither rank nor\nlearning can acquire, nor wealth purchase.  He rules hearts; learning\nmay rule heads, and wealth may influence manners, but sincere goodness\nenshrines itself on the throne of the heart.\n\nMen among whom \"Little Abe\" lived and worked, with whom he met from day\nto day,--men who professed to have no regard for religion as such,\nrespected Abe's presence more than they would that of their own\nfathers, and stopped their unclean conversation at his approach, or by\nsome other unmistakable means indicated their deep respect for him.\nThey all knew what grace had done for him, and they honoured the\ngenuine work, thereby entitling Abe to say, \"I'm a wonder unto many.\"\n\nOne man says, \"If there were no other evidence that religion is a good\nthing, there was proof enough in Little Abe.  I have had ample\nopportunities of watching his daily life for many years, having worked\nin the same mill with him, and I know what the other mill hands thought\nof him as well; everybody believed in the 'Little Bishop,' and there\nwasn't a man to be found that would utter a disrespectful word of him.\nHe was often employed in what is called 'cuttling,' that is, drawing\ncloth from the machine.  To do this he had to kneel on the ground; it\nwas easy work, and required very little thought.  Many a time have I\nseen him, while in this position, praying and drawing off the cloth,\nand I have thought that Abe couldn't help praying if he got on his\nknees, whether it was in the mill or anywhere else.\n\n\"Sometimes on a Saturday the young people in the mill would say, 'Well,\nBishop, where are you going to preach to-morrow?' and then, with the\nbrightest, kindest smile, he would tell them where his work for the\nnext day lay, and perhaps he would ask them to go with him; but on\ntheir refusing, he would add, 'Ah, my lads, yo' want your hearts\nchanging by th' grace of God, and then yo' would be glad to run\nonywhere in His Name.'  As years grew on him and he became infirm, I\nhave seen him come into the mill on a Monday morning looking very\ntired, and I have said I thought he was working too hard on Sundays.\n'Canna do that,' he would reply; 'I would do a thausand toimes maar for\nJesus if I could;\" and then brightening up, he would add, \"I'd raather\nwear aat loike gooid steel, than rust aat loike owd iron;' and he was\ntrue to his word; he did wear out.\"\n\nMany such testimonies might be added if it were necessary, all showing\nthat religion in \"Little Abe\" was the all-engrossing thing, but let\nthis suffice.  It is delightful to see how a good man may live in the\nmidst of the ungodly, and keep his garments unspotted, and his name\nunsullied by the adverse influences around him.  What a rebuke such a\nlife is to many who excuse their looseness and irregularities because\nthey are thrown among the irreligious; and how stimulative it becomes\nto others that are similarly situated, and trying to live consistently\nin the midst of all their evil surroundings!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nAbe as a Class Leader\n\nThe Class-meeting is one of the best institutions in Methodism.  It has\ndone as much as anything else, if not more, to keep up the spiritual\nlife of the churches; it has been a refuge for tens of thousands of\ntempted ones; it has been a seasonable corrector to many who were just\nbeginning to fall into the paths of sin, and has brought them back to\nChrist again; it has supplied the social need of our Christian faith,\nand gathered friends together for spiritual communion; it has been a\nsafeguard against the devices of the devil by affording opportunities\nfor the disciples of our Lord to compare their experiences, tell their\ntemptations, and impart mutual encouragement to each other in the\nDivine life; it is a natural, seemly, and modest vent for the spiritual\nfire which glows and flashes in every heart that loves the Lord with\nsincerity.  It was almost self-appointed; it came to be, or grew out of\na class of circumstances which would at any other time have produced\nessentially the same thing; it is the outgrowth of the fervent piety\nwhich marked the lives of our fathers in the churches, and it has met\nthe tendencies of glowing Christianity among us ever since.  It is an\nencumbrance only where this kind of Christianity is not maintained; as\ngodly zeal declines, so sinks the estimation for class-meetings; just\nas the appetite for food forsakes a sickly person, so the desire for\nexperience meetings declines in a sickly church.  Persons who never did\nattend class-meetings cannot be judged by them; their piety may deepen\nor diminish, but other tests must be found for them.  The class-meeting\nis a Methodist gauge, and only here can it apply.\n\n\"Little Abe\" was a class leader for many years, and there was no work\nmore heartily enjoyed by him than this.  The members of his class who\nsurvive him often talk of the grand times they had with the little man\nin this way; it was often like heaven on earth.  He was a very\nsuccessful leader, and always kept his members well together.  If any\nof them absented themselves he was soon on their track, hunting them up\nand bringing them back to the fold.\n\n\n\"MY FATHER'S GOT PLENTY O' TIMBER.\"\n\nHis class was conducted in a neat little cottage near the chapel\nbelonging to one of the members, who week by week opened his doors for\nthe accommodation of Abe and his flock.  Their meeting was held in a\ncomfortable room which served the family as kitchen and parlour; here\nevery Monday night the quaint old shepherd came to meet his sheep.  The\nbig family table was pushed back against the window, the elbow-chair\nwas placed at the end for the leader, all the chairs and seats in the\nhouse were brought into this room and ranged around as conveniently as\npossible to accommodate the weekly visitors, and sometimes when this\nwas done there were more people than seats, and the big table had to be\ndrawn out again, and made use of as a resting-place for the homely\npeople who gathered there; or a long board would be brought down from\nupstairs and its ends placed on two chairs, and thus an additional seat\nwas extemporized.\n\nThis very board had the misfortune to snap in two one night while a\nbrother was engaged in praying.  He was a _powerful_ man in prayer; his\nsoul was inspired with zeal, and his body animated with strength, which\non this occasion he vented in a succession of heavy blows on this\ndevoted piece of timber, until suddenly it gave way with a loud crack\nand fell in two pieces on the floor, to the great discomfiture of those\nwhose weight added to the strain.  For some moments there was\nconsiderable confusion in the room, as may be supposed, and the praying\nwas brought to a sudden halt, when Abe's voice was heard above all,\n\"Ne'er moind, lad, go at it!  My Father's got plenty o' timber, and\nHe'll send thee a new seat,\" whereon the meeting went on, as lively as\nbefore.  Abe wouldn't allow any such trifles to interfere with the\nhappy flow of feeling in his meetings; indeed, such incidents served\nrather to stimulate than abate the exuberance of his spirits.  He knew\nthat all things belonged to the Lord, and that He would make good all\nthat was lost in His service, and therefore \"he took joyfully the\nspoiling of his goods,\" and other folk's too.  It is needless to say\nthat the old seat was replaced by a new one.\n\n\n\"MY FATHER 'LL GIE THE' THIS HAASE\" (House).\n\nWhen Abe had been conducting his class for some years in the cottage\nbefore named, an event transpired which greatly disturbed his mind, and\nled him to fear he might have to remove his meeting to some other\nplace.  Now this was a sore trouble ta him and to every one of his\nmembers; they had got accustomed to going there, and some of them had\nnever met anywhere else, so that they could not bear the thought of\nbeing obliged to leave, yet there was some ground for the fear.\n\nThe person who owned the cottage was mother-in-law to the man by whom\nit was occupied; she died and left her property, which consisted\nchiefly of cottages, to be divided equally among her children.  Soon\nafter the funeral the family met in this very house to arrange the\ndivision of the estate.  The plan adopted was to draw lots for houses,\nand as they were nearly of the same value, this seemed equitable.  So\nthe lots were all prepared and placed together, and each person was to\ndraw one, and take the house named on the lot; the drawing was to\ncommence with the eldest, and go down to the youngest.  Now the wife of\nthe man in whose house the class met was the youngest member of the\nfamily, and therefore must take what all the others left.  When\neverything was ready for the drawing to begin, the proceedings were\ninterrupted by a knock at the door.  The man of the house opened it,\nand found, to his surprise, \"Little Abe\" there.  \"Come aat a minute,\"\nsaid he, \"I want to spaike to the'.\"  On getting outside Abe resumed,\n\"I knaw what ye are baan to do in there.\"\n\n\"Haa dost ta knaw?\" said the man.\n\n\"Ne'r moind, I knaw;\" and going close up to his ear and placing his\nhand on the man's arm, he said, \"My Father 'll gie the' this haase, He\ntelled me soa; I've been to Him abaat it, and I have His word on 't;\nbut afore thaa gets it, I want the' to promise me that while I live I\nshall have my meetin' here.\"\n\n\"Yo' shall,\" was the ready response; \"as long as thaa and me lives this\nhaase shall be oppen to the' if we get it.\"\n\n\"Bless the Lord,\" said Abe, rubbing his hands, \"I could loike to shaat\"\n(shout) \"but they'd hear me insoide.  Ne'er moind, I knaw tha'll get\nit;--gooid-noight!\"\n\nHis friend then returned into the house, and immediately the drawing\nbegan.  Each drew one lot; then they all read them together, and as Abe\npredicted, the house in which they were assembled fell to the share of\nthe man who lived in it.  But this is not the end of the story: it\nappears that one of the sons was not satisfied with his portion, and\nbegan to complain.  The fact is he wanted this house, and if he had got\nit Abe and his class would have been turned out.  So, rather than have\nany unpleasantness in the family, they all agreed to cast lots again\nand abide by the issue.  This was done, and to the astonishment of all,\nthis house fell a second time to the same man, and though it was\nconsidered the best lot, everyone felt it was fairly his, and he has it\nto this day.\n\nIt may suit some people to say this was a mere accident; yes, just the\nsame as the world is an accident and a thing of chance.  Perhaps it was\nan accident, too, that \"Little Abe\" was able to foretell the issue of\nthat lottery with such confidence, and was so eager to make his bargain\nfor the use of the room before the lots were known.  The chance that\ncan show such intelligence, foreknowledge, and power, that can\ncommunicate its intentions beforehand, and afterwards verify them in\nthis manner, has the attributes of God, and must be Divine; a chance\nthat can hear and answer prayer, that can work out its own designs and\nbaffle those of others, that can reveal secrets to His favourites and\nhonourably keep covenants, deserves the faith and worship of all men:\nthis was Abe Lockwood's God, and He shall be ours for ever and ever.\nThere are some who say, \"What is the Almighty that we should serve Him?\nand what profit shall we have if we pray unto Him?\"  These scientific\ntheorists and unbelievers are intensely anxious to prove that prayer is\nonly wasted energy, that nothing can possibly come as direct answering\nto prayer, that if things do follow which seem to be in response to\nearnest and devout petition, they result from some other causes, which\nhave no connection, except coincidental, with prayer.\n\nMen who talk so don't pray, never did.  They don't know what prayer is;\nthey are wrong in their first principles, and therefore all their\ndeductions are awry; it is impossible for anyone who discredits prayer\nto know what he is talking about.  Prayer is a something going on\nwithin the soul, it is something which must be experienced to be\nunderstood; and yet those who have no experience presume to\nphilosophize on the subject as if they had spent all their life in the\nexercise and study of prayer.  Just as well might \"Little Abe\" try to\ntalk scientifically, as those scientists speak on the merits or worth\nof prayer, it is out of their sphere, they are out of their depth, and\ntherefore it was a sad want of discretion which first tempted them to\nventure so far.\n\n\"Little Abe\" was a much better judge of the value of prayer than these\ntheorists; he was much further learnt in this direction than any of\nthem, and therefore his testimony was more reliable than theirs; what\nto them was a mystery and impossibility was to him a simple daily\nenjoyment.  They that would test the value of prayer _must really pray\nthemselves_, and believe while they pray, otherwise they will be no\nwiser.  Prayer is not disproved by the failure of improper petitions,\nbut it is proved by the success attending supplications presented in\nthe right spirit.  If men expect nothing, they get what they expect,\nthe Bible says so; \"But without faith it is impossible to please Him;\nfor he that cometh to God must believe that He is, and that He is a\nrewarder of them that diligently seek Him\" (Heb. xi. 6).\n\nPrayer was an exercise in which Abe was a proficient and spent much\ntime; at his work he prayed, and in his chamber, long and earnestly,\nuntil he prevailed.  Sometimes in the meetings, as Abe would say, \"they\ngat agaat o' wrestling,\" and then he often became so importunate in his\nintercessions that his whole body prayed as well as his soul, and quite\nunconsciously he beat the bench at which he knelt, struck the floor\nwith his clogs, sweat at every pore, and really wrestled with God in\nmighty prayer, and then the glory was sure to come down and fill the\nplace.  Certainly at those times Abe and those who were with him were\nvery noisy, and some who had no sympathy with anything of the sort,\nwould make some disparaging remarks.  There were some of old who would\nhave silenced the loud cries of poor blind Bartimeus, but they could\nnot, nor can they stop the voice of vehement prayer.  Pray on,\nbrethren, get hold of God, and then make what noise you like.\n\nWe want more of this praying spirit among the Lord's people, and less\nof the cold calculations of the unbeliever.  Here lies the strength of\nthe Christian Church, and not in its immense wealth, its high culture,\nits refined pulpit, or luxurious pew; it is that praying power which\nbrings the Divine unction down.  May God give us the praying power.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\n\"Working Overtime.\"\n\nThe time came when \"Little Abe\" was much sought after to speak at\nweek-night meetings, such as tea-meetings, missionary meetings, and the\nlike.  It was considered a great point to have him as one of the\nspeakers; they were sure to have a lively time if Abe came--for what\nwith his own original speech, his running comments and responses while\nothers were talking (a liberty which every one allowed him), he kept\nthe whole meeting alive throughout.\n\nThis was what he called \"working overtime.\"  All his Sundays were\ngiven, as a matter of course, to the Lord's work, and the week-days to\nhis daily calling; consequently what he did, in this way had to be done\nat nights, after his day's work was finished.  Now as this kind of work\ngrew upon Abe, there were some who would tell him he was doing too\nmuch, that he would injure himself; but he would remind them that when\nhe had to work at the mill night after night, week after week, no one\never thought of telling him he was doing too much.  \"No,\" would be the\nresponse, \"because you were paid for that.\"  Then Abe's soul was\nroused.  \"Well, and does the' think my Father doesn't pay me?  Bless\nHim, He owes me nowt, He's paid me double wages for every minute I have\nwarked for Him.\"  And so he went on serving the Church and honouring\nGod to the utmost of his ability.\n\n\nLITTLE ABE AND THE MULE.\n\nHe had a singular experience one dark rainy night when going to a\nmissionary meeting at Shelley.  He was late in arriving, so that the\nmeeting was somewhat advanced when he put in an appearance.  As he\nentered the chapel he was greeted by a burst of clapping, and in a\nmoment every face brightened at the sight of him, though, to tell the\ntruth, he was rather unsightly, for he was bedabbled with mud from his\nfeet to his head, and his big umbrella looked as if it had been on the\nspree and rolled in the gutter; altogether he appeared in unusual style\nfor a public meeting.  It was no matter to him, however.  He just shook\nhimself like a dog out of the water, placed his bundle of whalebones\nand gingham in a quiet corner, rubbed his numbed hands together, and\nwent smiling on to the platform.  Nothing would satisfy the people but\nthat he should speak at once, so he rose to his feet amid the hearty\nclapping of the whole audience, and said, \"I niver knew so mich of th'\ntrials of missionary wark in my loife as I do naa.  I've been in\ntrainin' for this meetin'.  I've had to endure storms, rain, tempest,\nand dangers seen and unseen, for it wor that dark on th' road I could\nhardly see mysen, so, loike a returned missionary, I think I ought to\nlet yo' knaw some'at abaat my trials.\"  (Hear, hear.)  \"Well, yo' knaw,\nwhen I promised to come to this meetin', I meant being here somehaa,\nbut I 'av had a job.  I thowt as I wor comin' I would mak' it as easy\nas I could for mysen, so I borrowed aar neighbour's mule.  I didn't\nknaw mich abaat riding, so he telled me I wor to keep tight hold o' th'\nbridle, as th' owd mule had a way o' tumblin' fore'ards.  Well, I gat\non th' back wi' my umbrella oppen, for it wor pouring daan rain, and we\nset off, all three on us, umbrella, th' mule, and me.  We gat on\nalroight most o' th' way.  I had to scold th' owd animal sometimes, and\ntell him to get on or we'd be too late for th' meeting, so we kept\ngaining a bit o' graand by degrees, but troubles wor ahead.  What wi'\nthinking abaat my speech and holding th' umbrella roight, I forgat to\nkeep a toight hold o' th' bridle, and all at once th' mule tript, and\nth' umbrella and me went roight over his head into th' dike.  I really\nwor astonished at mysen, and didn't know which to blame--th' mule or\nme.  I think I ne'r gat off a cuddy so quick in my loife afore; and th'\nowd mule would hardly understand me I daresay, for he stopt in a moment\nand look'd over at me as if he wor wondering if I always gat off in\nthat fashion.  However, I soon scrambled aat o' th' dike, and after a\ngood bit o' trying I maanted agean and set off on th' road; but I\nhadn't gone far before I faan some'at wor wrang wi' th' bridle.  I\ncouldn't guide th' beast roight somehaa, so I felt abaat to try if I\ncould foind aat what it wor, and behold I had gotten th' bridle all on\none soide.  Well, I dar'n't get off to set it roight, so I wor fain to\nlet th' owd beast goa his own gait till we gat to Shelley.\"\n\nThe whole story was so amusing, and the more so as told in Abe's\ninimitable style, that the people laughed themselves into tears; and\nyet they could not but admire the zeal of the little man, and their\nhearts warmed towards him, and to the missionary cause as well, for as\nsoon as Abe resumed his seat, the chairman, who knew how to take the\ntide at its flood, called for the collection to be made, and there is\nno doubt it was a good one.  Just at that moment Abe shouted out,\n\"Bless the Lord, I've made th' collection speech to-noight.\"\n\n\nA QUOTATION FROM SALLY.\n\nAt one of the meetings where \"Little Abe\" was a speaker, he was\nexhorting the people to give freely to the Lord's cause.  \"Some folk,\"\nhe remarked, \"say that Methodists are always after money; well, we\ncanna' do very mich withaat it, I wish we could, it's a deal o' bother,\nand takes sich a lot o' getting; and yet it is a far worse job to be\nwithaat ony.\"  Then throwing his head over a little on one side he went\non, \"Aar Sally says money is th' rooit of all evil, but I says, 'Aye,\nlass, I knaw it wad be, if I wor to come home on Saturday withaat ony.'\"\n\n\nA LIST OF THE FAMILY NAMES.\n\nAt another meeting in which our little hero was speaking he got into an\nexceedingly happy mood, and was dwelling on the honour of being a child\nof God.  His face shone with delight, his eyes glistened with joyful\ntears.  \"Bless the Lord,\" said he, \"I'm a King's Son, and one of a\nroyal line.  Ah, and there are hosts maar in th' family besides me.\nLet's see,\" said he, \"there's Jonathan Cheetham, King's Son; there's\nJames Crossland, King's Son; there's James Carter, King's Son; Glory!\nthere's Mary Carter, King's Son.  Hallelujah!\"  How far he would have\npursued the list of family names we don't know, had not the whole\nmeeting burst into laughter and tears at Abe's unwitting mistake in\ncalling Mary Carter a King's Son; but it was of no consequence to him;\na little slip of his happy tongue didn't mar his meaning; the people\ncheered him, and on he went as blythe as ever.\n\nIt was reward enough for Little Abe to know that he had done his\nMaster's work and brought honour to His great name.  The exertion which\nthese extra meetings entailed upon him, the long weary marches out and\nhome, were all performed without a murmur or the slightest abatement of\nzeal.  He didn't serve the Lord with a footrule in his hand, measuring\nand marking off to the eighth of an inch.  Abe strode over all narrow\nand stinted measurements, and served his Master out of the fulness of\nhis warm and generous heart.\n\nThat miserable devotion which does as little as possible for God, and\nmagnifies that little into importance, Little Abe knew nothing about,\nand he is a poor, pompous, pitiable thing that does; the open heart,\nthe willing hand, the ready feet, are among the few things that God\nAlmighty is pleased to see among His people; the penitent that sheds\nhis tears by the dozen, the man that goes just the length of his\nsixty-feet tape-measure and no more, the champion that quenches his\nzeal in the first obstacle that comes in his way, and turns back from\nthe fight, is unworthy the name and honour of a Christian; he is unfit\nto march in the glorious succession of martyrs and confessors who\nfollow a Leader that dedicated His all to the world's welfare and His\nFather's will.  \"For ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that\nthough He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, that ye through\nHis poverty might be rich.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nMethodist Lovefeast.\n\nMethodism has created new institutions and coined new words to express\nthe object of them.  The lovefeast is purely Methodistic: it is a\nmeeting of Christian people belonging to one or more societies, where\nthey relate their religious experience, and bear their testimony to the\nworth and influence of Divine grace in the soul.\n\nUnder the conduct of a minister, or someone duly appointed for the\npurpose, the meeting is opened with singing and prayer; then, while the\npeople are sitting, bread and water are distributed to all present, to\nsuggest that believers are members of one great family, and partners in\nthe same spiritual provision made by Christ who gave Himself to be the\nBread of Life for men.  When this is done the offerings of the people\nare gathered, usually for the poor of the Lord's flock.  The\nformalities ended, the meeting is thrown open for the relation of\nChristian experience, and any one speaks that is prompted.\n\nIn every period of Methodism the lovefeast has been a precious and\npopular means of grace.  These meetings are held all through the\ncountry, every little church taking care to have its quarterly or\nannual lovefeast.  And it is remarkable what a hold some of these\nmeetings have upon the people; ten, or even twenty miles, have not been\nconsidered too great a distance to be travelled in order to be present\nat some of them, even though the entire journey has had to be performed\non foot.  Men and women, some of them stricken in years and bowed down\nwith the toils and cares of a long and hard life, have joyfully walked\nmany a weary mile for the pleasure of attending a lovefeast; old\npeople, leading their grand-children by the hand, and telling them of\nthe stirring times of early Methodism; younger people in groups,\nsinging revival hymns as they plod steadily along the dusty or miry\nroads under melting sun or pelting rains, making their way to these\nattractive and soul-stirring meetings, contending against every\nobstacle and overcoming every hindrance, determined to be there and do\nhonour to the Divine Master, who said, \"Ye are my witnesses.\"\n\nThere have been some of the grandest manifestations of Divine power at\nthese gatherings, as seen and felt in the sweet, gentle, and\nunconscious melting of feelings, until the whole congregation has been\nbroken down to tears and songs of joy and praise; or coming suddenly\nupon them as a \"rushing mighty wind,\" without sound or sign, save in\nthe bending of heads, the breaking of hearts, the streaming tears, and\nthe adoring responses of the people.  Then, believers have caught the\nspark of sanctifying fire from God Himself, and declared it; then, men\nhave been endued with the gift of tongues, and spoken with apostolic\npower; then, sinners, drawn into the place by the peculiar attractions\nof the occasion, have felt their souls shaken by Divine energy, like\nforest trees in a tempest, and trembling, bending, rending, breaking,\nhave fallen in the storm of Heaven's mercy, and cried for help and\nfound it.  Oh, how many there are now in glory or on the way, of whom\nit may be said, \"Convicted in a lovefeast! converted in a lovefeast!\nsanctified in a lovefeast!\"  Their name is \"legion, for they are many.\"\nHallelujah!\n\nSome things among the usages of the churches we may perhaps afford to\ndispense with and suffer no loss, but not this glorious means of grace.\nIf in any place they have lost their power, the fault is not in the\ninstitution, but in the Church; religious declension is the greatest\nenemy to this good old custom.  If the Lord's people return to their\nfirst love, the lovefeast will resume its former glory and power. Oh,\nLord, \"wilt Thou not revive us again, that Thy people may rejoice in\nThee?\"\n\nMethodism cannot afford to forsake her old ways for new and untried\nones; they are intelligent, proper, and essentially Christian.\nLovefeasts are the olive branch which we have received from the revered\nhands of our fathers and mothers in the faith, not to be cast away, but\nto be prized and kept as a mark of our love for them, for each other,\nand for Christ our Saviour; and though the green branch which they left\nus may be somewhat faded, and its leaves droop in our moistureless\nhands, though it has lost some of the freshness it had when it first\ncame to our keeping, thank God! thank God! it is not dead, it lives!\nand can be revived.  It wants more moisture; sprinkle tear-drops of\npenitence upon its shrunken foliage; let the springs of our sympathy\nonce more flow over it; let us ask God to give us the \"upper and the\nnether springs,\" that _His_ love and ours may flow out in one united\nstream; let us come to that stream, near, nearer, to the brink, and\nolive branch in hand, plunge in, refresh ourselves, and revivify the\nblessed, beautiful, and sacred symbol.\n\nThere was no meeting in which Little Abe was more at home than a\nlovefeast; whether as conductor or in a private capacity,--if such a\nterm can be applied to Abe,--he gloried in a rousing lovefeast.  His\nlove for these meetings and his aptitude in conducting them occasioned\na great demand for his presence.  He had such a way of interspersing\nenlivening comments between the speakers.  He was a good singer, too,\nand was always ready with some hymn expressive of the feeling of the\nmeeting.  Then he had the power to make everyone feel at home, so that\nhe was the very man to lead a lovefeast, although he did sometimes say\nthings that would shock very orderly and circumspect persons.\n\n\nDEVIL DIDN'T POP THEE.\n\nLittle Abe was leading a lovefeast in Berry Brow Chapel; the place was\ncrowded, people had come from far and near; the Holy Spirit was present\nin great power; there was no lack of witnesses, two or three being\noften on their feet together waiting for an opportunity to speak.\nLittle Abe, as he said, \"was fair swabbing o'er,\" he wept for joy.\n\nA young man at length rose to relate his Christian experience.  He had\nbut lately been converted to Jesus, and before that had been a very\nwicked, drunken, degraded character.  He proceeded to say what the Lord\nhad done for him, how He had found him in his sins and misery, and\ntaken hold of him when hardly any one else would look at him, except a\npoliceman, who felt as if he had a sort of right to him, and often\nfound him board and lodgings for a few weeks.  At the time of his\nconversion he was almost naked, and absolutely destitute; said he, \"I\nhad popt\" (pawned) \"my coat, and popt my shoes, my vest, my shirt, and\neverything on which I could raise money, and I was almost in hell.\"\nThis was more than Abe could sit under; he sprang to his feet and\nexclaimed, \"It's a rare job th' devil didn't pop thee and all, my lad!\nPraise th' Lord!\"  The young man fell on his seat and vented his\ngratitude in a fresh burst of tears, and many an eye in that meeting\nran over as well.\n\n\nRELIGION ALL HUMBUG.\n\nLittle Abe once got up in a lovefeast.  \"Friends,\" said he, \"a man\nasked me what I made so mich noise abaat religion for; he said, 'It's\nall humbug,' and I said, 'Thaa'rt roight for once, mon; it's th'\nsweetest humbug that iver I tasted.  I have been sucking it for mony a\nlang year, and it is sweeter than iver.'\"  (Humbug is the Yorkshire\nname for sweets and goodies).  It was just in Abe's way to turn the\ntables on his assailant, and certainly in this case the Little Bishop\nhad the best of the encounter, and the joy of the humbug as well.\n\n\nPENITENT PHYSIC.\n\nThe Bishop was leading a lovefeast in Shelley Chapel (where it is said\nthat the Rev. John Wesley once preached), and one of the speakers had\nbeen a backslider, but had determined to return to the Lord.  This man\nwas telling the meeting his bitter sorrow, and how he had drunk of the\nwormwood and gall of repentance, and as he spoke tears ran chasing each\nother down his face.  \"Bless th' Lord,\" said Little Abe, \"I see my\nFather has been giving the' some penitent physic, and it's made the'\n'een\" (eyes) \"run.  Ne'er moind, lad, He'll heal thee heart, and wipe'\naway all tears from thee 'een.'\"\n\n\nHONLEY FEAST MONDAY.\n\nThe Honley feast is one of the remaining relics of byegone times, and\nis tenaciously kept year by year throughout the parish as a holiday.\nIt begins with Sunday, and extends over the greater part of the week,\nduring which time the people enjoy themselves in ways suited to their\nvaried tastes, too many of them indulging in the cup which brings\naching heads and empty pockets.  What a pity it is that men, and even\nwomen, too, are so infatuated as to think that pleasure can only be\nfound in drunkenness and public-house brawling!  Thank God there are\nmany who know the folly of this, and have other and better ways of\nfinding pleasure.  Ever since Salem Chapel was first built it has been\nthe custom to hold a lovefeast there on Honley Feast Monday, and this\nis perhaps the most popular meeting in the whole year, and is always\nlooked to with great interest.  People come to this lovefeast from many\nmiles around, and the chapel is invariably filled to overflowing.\n\nThis was always a great occasion with Little Abe--a real red letter\nday.  I remember attending this annual meeting some years ago.  Abe was\nthere, and he certainly monopolised a good share of my attention.  He\nwas very happy, and kept on ringing changes with clapping, stamping,\nshouting, and sometimes, when under strong feelings, he pealed a clash\naltogether, with hand, foot, and voice.  \"Hey, lads!\" he said, \"it's\ngrand! it gets better and better, bless th' Lord!\"  His face was\ncovered with smiles from his smooth chin to his bald forehead; he never\nceased smiling during all that service,--for no sooner had his joyous\ncountenance spent itself on one pleasant thing, and the light, dancing\nripples begun to subside, than something else presented itself to his\nnotice, and another smile passed across his face like a playful breeze\nover a clear pool, shaking up the waves again; and so on he went,\nthrough all that service, with a face as bright as a sunbeam.\n\nAt length Abe rose to his feet, still smiling, and his hands clasped\ntogether; every eye was on him in a moment, and smiles and tears of joy\nmingled all over the chapel; the women wiped their eyes, and the men\nshouted, \"Glory, Abe!  God bless the', lad.\"  \"Friends,\" he began, \"I\nam happy, I mun spaike naa, or I'st brust mysen.\"  \"Go on, Abe,\" came\nfrom all parts of the chapel.  \"Hey, my lads, I mean to go on; I'm noan\ngoing to turn back naa; it's heaven I set aat for, and heaven I mean.\nI've been on th' road aboon fifty years, and I'st get t' th' end afore\nlang.\"  And then he went on to say how glad he was to see them there\nonce more, and to see the place full of earnest worshippers.  \"You knaw\nit warn't always soa.  I can remember when we wor just a few, but we\nagreed to pray for a revival, and gie th' Lord no rest until we should\nmak' His arm bare amang us.  We started a prayer-meeting on Sunday\nmornings at five o'clock to th' minute, and they that worn't there at\ntime should be locked aat.  Well, yo' know, I wor' baan to be at that\nmeeting.  So I telled aar Sally on Saturday noight I mun be up i' th'\nmorning at half-past four.  Well, wod yo' believe it, I waked abaat\nfive minutes to five.  I wor aat o' bed in a wink, and shoved my feet\nin my stockings, and then on wi' my breeks, scratted up my booits\"\n(boots) \"i' my hand, and off I ran in my stocking feet.  When I gat\nhoalf-way up th' Braa th' clock struck five, and I pushed one fooit in\nmy booit, fastened up my gallasses, and ran on agean panting up th'\nhill, and just as I came t' th' gate I saw th' chapel door shut in my\nface, so I wor locked aat; but I wor noan baan to looise my meeting.\nWhile they insoid wor getting ready, I finished dressing mysen.\nBy-and-bye I hears one on 'em give aat a hymn, and I clapped my ear t'\nth' key-hoil and listened for th' words, and then I put my maath to th'\nhoil and sang with 'em, and so I kept on until they began to pray.\nThen I listened, and shaated Amen through th' hoil, and kept on while\niver they prayed.  At last my owd friend Bradley stopped in th' middle\nof his prayer,--'Oppen that door,' he said, 'I canna pray with that\nchap shaating in at th' key-hoil that road;' so they oppened th' door,\nand I went in and had my meeting after all,--but yo' moind I wor niver\nlate agean.\"\n\nOur little friend will be remembered as a lovefeast man for many years\nto come.  His name had quite grown to be associated with the Conference\nlovefeast of the Methodist New Connexion, and many are the affectionate\nreferences to our brother in these grand annual gatherings even to this\nday.  His voice is not now heard as it once was, along with that of\nThomas Hannam, John Shaw, and men of like spirit and notoriety; but his\nname is still fragrant in the affectionate memories of those who are in\nthe habit of attending our Conference lovefeast.\n\n\n\"BREED 'EM YOURSENS.\"\n\nAlthough Little Abe was no narrow-minded sectarian, he still loved to\nfoster in the minds of his own children a preference for the people\nthat had, under God, saved his soul, and made him what he was, and he\ntried to bind his family to the Church of his choice.  Spending a\nSunday in the town of Dewsbury, in company with a devoted brother and\nlocal preacher who is now in heaven, they were led to converse about\nthe Community to which they both belonged.  Abe said, \"I was born in\nth' New Connexion, never aat of it, and by God's help I'st die in it,\nand I hope my children after me.\"  And then, taking up an incident\nwhich his own words had called to mind, he said, \"My lad went by a\ncheap trip to Hull t'other day, and what dost ta think wor th' first\nthing he axed for when he gat there?\"  \"Don't know,\" replied his\nfriend.  \"Why, afore he gat aat at station yard, he goes up to a man\nand says, 'Can yo' tell me th' way t' th' New Connexion Chapel?'  Naa,\"\nhe added, looking across at his friend; \"if yo' want th' roight soort,\nyo' mun breed um yoursens;\" a saying which, put into other words,\nsimply means that if we are to have reliable members in the Church,\npious parents must bring in their own children, and let them grow up in\nthe fear of the Lord and love of His people, and the maxim is correct.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\nPatient in Tribulation.\n\nAbe Lockwood had to encounter many troubles arising from a variety of\ncauses but that which seemed to harass him most was poverty.  Having a\nlarge family to bring up, and earning but moderate wages by his\nemployment, his head was seldom above water; he just managed to keep\nabove the drowning point.  Only the brave, honest, and godly poor who\nhave struggled through similar difficulties, can really know what that\ngood man and his wife had to contend against in this way.\n\nYet how often do we find poverty and piety yoked together in one house.\nWhat a mercy it is that piety will condescend to dwell with poverty;\nsit down at the same dry crust, or sit without it; wear the same\npatched and threadbare raiment, and not complain; stay in the same\ncircle, endure the same hunger, cold, sickness, and suffering with\nunmurmuring constancy, and taking more than half the load of trouble on\nher own neck will sit the long night through, and \"sing of mercy\" till\nthe day breaks, and the light comes, and the sun shines again.\n\"Godliness with contentment is great gain.\"\n\nHow many of the Lord's jewels have been ground, cut, and polished on\nthe wheel of poverty; polished, but not set, for poverty is neither the\ngold nor silver for the setting.  No matter, God does not care for the\nsetting, it is the diamonds He loves, \"and they shall be mine, saith\nthe Lord of hosts, in that day when I make up my jewels.\"\n\nWhen, however, industry, economy, and patient courage had done all,\npoor Abe was sometimes almost overwhelmed by hardships,--almost, but\nnot altogether.  He had a firm faith in God, and used to say, \"My\nFather knows haa mich I can carry to a grain, and He wean't lay a straw\ntoo mony upon me, bless Him.\"  In the midst of all the little Bishop\nmaintained a happy heart and a cheerful countenance; he made as little\nof his poverty as some people do of their luxuries, and an ordinary\nobserver might have supposed he never had a sorrow, or felt a care.\nThe fact is he did not hoard his troubles as some persons do; he did\nnot like them well enough for that.  They hung very loosely about him\nat any time, and he shook them off as soon as he could; instead of\nbuttoning them up in his breast, and keeping them until they rankled,\nfestered, or turned sour, he loosened his bands, bared his bosom to the\nfirst healthy breeze of joy that blew, and laughed the moment his\nsorrows were gone.\n\n\n\"WATTER GRUEL.\"\n\nHe was one day walking several miles to a preaching appointment, in\ncompany with another brother who was going to the same place.  On the\nway his friend's nose began to bleed, and they had to stop, though the\nman's nose still kept on bleeding.  Abe tried to stop it: he put a cold\nstone to the man's neck, held his arms up over head, and resorted to a\nvariety of acknowledged remedies, but with very little effect.  \"What\nmun I do, Abe?\" said the man.  The little Bishop thereupon proceeded to\ngive him his advice.  \"I'll tell the' what to do,\" said he; \"thaa mun\nstrike at th' rooit\" (root) \"o' th' evil; thaa lives o'er high; thaa\nshould try watter gruel for six weeks, and thaa'd cure that nose,\nthat's haa I do.\"  A burst of laughter from both hastened the cure, and\non they went again with the journey.  There was in this quaint remark\nof his just the slightest reference to the poor fare on which he had\nmany a time set out on a long journey and a hard day's work in the\ncause of his Divine Master; often enough dear old Abe was like brave\nGideon of old, \"faint, yet pursuing.\"\n\nHe used to say when he met people who carried their troubles in their\nfaces, \"Yo' ha' no need to pull such lang miserable faces, raand 'um up\na bit!  What! are yo' gotten on dark soid o' th' hedge?  Yo' mun flit\ninto th' sunshine, there's plenty o' room.\"  And what a blessing it\nwould be if people who nurse their sorrows would begin to count and\ncherish their joys instead; the world, and especially the Church, would\nbe full of bright faces and happy hearts.\n\n\nTHE HALLELUJAH COAT.\n\nThere was a time when Little Abe was badly provided against the cold,\nwet, inclement weather which he had to encounter in the work of the\nLord, and coming out of the chapels on winter nights exposed him to\nmany a dangerous chill.  His only extra covering was a thick woollen\nmuffler around his neck, yet in this way he bore uncomplaining the\nbrunt of storm and pelt of rain.  One Sunday night after the little\nBishop had been preaching, a man came and invited him to supper before\nstarting for home, and he went.  Supper over, Abe prepared to be off;\nit was a bitter night, cold and wet.  On seeing him about to start, the\ngood man said, \"I've got something for you, Bishop.\"  Abe looked round\nand saw him standing with a big, thick overcoat open, ready for him to\nput on.  Without a word of remark he thrust his arms into the coat, and\nhis host proceeded to button it up from his throat to his heels,\nsmiling all the time; this done, he stood back to look at him.  Abe\nclapped his hands together, and shouted \"Hallelujah!  hallelujah!!  I\ncan say now't else--hallelujah! a top coit! a hallelujah coit!\"  And\naway he went out into the darkness and rain shouting, \"A Hallelujah top\ncoit!\"  That garment was always known after as \"the hallelujah coit.\"\n\n\nTEMPTED OF THE DEVIL.\n\nEvery Christian knows something of the wiles of the devil, and how\nbusily he goes about to tease, annoy, and break the peace of the Lord's\npeople.  Abe had many a tussel with this enemy, but in the strength of\nfaith and prayer he conquered him.  During the early years of Abe's\nChristian life the devil often endeavoured to raise doubts in his mind\non fundamental truths; but Abe was not to be moved from the faith.\nWhat he could not understand nor explain, he yet believed with all his\nheart, so that in time the enemy yielded every point of dispute up to\nhim, and Abe kept his heart in perfect peace, so far as these things\nwere concerned.  If Satan came to him, it was generally on some\nunimportant thing which might harass and divert from better things.\nAbe would say \"Th' owd enemy 's ge'en o'er playing 'th' roaring lion,'\nand turned into a flee, running and hopping all o'er me.\"  And thus the\ndevil would sometimes assail him, rousing his feelings, exciting his\nimagination and anger, and kindling his resentment to a pitch that\nsometimes made Abe almost ashamed of himself, especially as it was all\nabout nothing.\n\n\nACCUSED OF SWEARING.\n\nAfter preaching one Sunday at Wellhouse, a place about four miles from\nwhere he resided, he was making his way home in the cool of the summer\nevening, and had got within a very short distance of Berry Brow.\nFollowing on the same road was a man that knew Abe very well, who was\ntrying to overtake him.  As this man drew nearer he heard the Bishop\ntalking rather loudly, and giving expression to some very extraordinary\nlanguage, accompanied by sundry violent flourishes of his walking-stick\nand stamping of his foot, and the man was amazed as he heard Abe break\nout, \"Thaa 'rt a liar, thaa owd devil!\"  A few moments' silence\nfollowed this outburst, during which the little man was walking like a\nchampion racer; then suddenly he broke out again, \"I tell the' thaa 'rt\na liar, and I will n't believe a word on 't.\"  Then followed another\nbrief silence, and then another excited explosion, which brought Abe to\na standstill.  \"Didn't I tell the' I don't believe the'?  Away with\nthe', thaa lying old devil!\"\n\nBy this time the man came up to him and said, \"Why, Abe, whatever art\nta swearing abaat soa on a Sunday noight?\"\n\n\"Swearing! me swearing!\" exclaimed Abe.  \"I'm noan swearing, my lad.\"\n\n\"But I yeerd the' mysen.\"\n\n\"When?\"\n\n\"Naa, this minute; thaa called somebody a lying owd devil, and sich\nloike.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said the little Bishop kindling at the sudden recollection of\nwhat had been passing in his mind, \"I've left my Sunday\npocket-handkerchief in th' pulpit at Wellhaase, and th' owd devil wor\ntelling me aar Sally wod scold me, and I told him he wor a lying\nowd devil, and so he is; but I didn't knaw onybody could yeer me.\"  In\nthis way the enemy assailed him on his way home from his pious work,\ngrudging him the peace of mind which a good man has in the service of\nhis Master.  Satan would not raise any vital point of faith or duty\nwith Abe, because he knew he would be beaten, and Abe would be blest,\nand would rise high on the wings of his faith out of the devil's reach;\nbut he could spring a snare upon the good man about his\npocket-handkerchief, and gradually worry and tease him into a conflict\nuntil he forgot altogether the thought of better things.\n\n\nCOUNTING THE ORGAN PIPES.\n\nAnother amusing story is told of Little Abe, showing how Satan\nsometimes succeeded in trailing a false scent across his path, and\nleading his mind astray for a time, or, so to speak, shunting him on to\na siding, and keeping him there until he discovered the snare.  He was\nsitting in Berry Brow Chapel listening, or endeavouring to listen, to\nthe preacher; it was soon after the new organ was introduced into that\nplace of worship.  Abe sat just opposite the organ, so that he could\nnot avoid seeing it.  Several times during the service the little\nBishop had fidgeted about, and indicated signs of impatience from some\ncause or another; when all at once, to the astonishment of preacher and\npeople, Abe exclaimed, \"I tell the' there's soa many pipes in that\norgan, I've caanted 'em a dozen times already; if thaa doesn't believe\nit, caant 'em theesen, devil.\"\n\nWe may imagine the effect produced by Abe's outburst of indignation,\nthat the devil should doubt the accuracy of his counting in a matter so\ntrivial, as well as the annoyance and shame he felt that he had allowed\nhis old enemy to make a dupe of him again.  Yet it is only an\nillustration of the insignificant things that serve to call off our\nminds from the pursuit of holy studies.  The devil would dispute\nthrough a whole service about a couple of flies, rather than permit a\nsaint to wait upon God without distraction.  It shows that we need to\nbe very watchful against the influence of that arch enemy, even in the\nLord's house.\n\nLittle Abe, with all his excellences, had his infirmities like other\nmen, and he felt them keenly.  It was a cause of great grief to him\nwhen, through unwatchfulness, he was led into folly.  \"Could ye not\nwatch with me one hour?\" was said to the weary disciples of old, and\nmight often be repeated to the Lord's people to-day.  \"Watch,\ntherefore, lest ye enter into temptation.\"\n\n\nAN EVIL TEMPER.\n\nOne source of temptation to Little Abe was his temper; and yet here few\nwould think he had any trouble at all.  If people who knew him were\ncanvassed on this question, the uniform testimony would be that he had\na most even disposition; few could be found to testify that they ever\nsaw him overcome by anger.  He was, however, naturally of a quick,\nsensitive temper, and had to keep a jealous watch upon himself, in\norder to hold this tendency in subjection; the consequence was that it\nseldom gained the mastery over him after his conversion.  Grace turned\nthe lion into a lamb, and subdued the evil spirit within him, and as he\ngrew in grace, the marks of the old Adam became less distinct.  Still\nit was always an occasion for prayer and watchfulness with him; he\nwould not allow himself to be tempted from this side of his character,\nif he could avoid it.  Should anything transpire which was likely to\nrouse the evil spirit, Abe would take his hat and run away, rather than\nlet the enemy gain ascendancy over him; he felt that it was often\nbetter to \"hide than 'bide.\"\n\nAll our readers may not be troubled with a fiery temper, but they who\nare should watch it closely, or they will burn themselves.  If you have\nfire about, keep powder and petroleum out of the way, or there may be\nan explosion; he that tempts the fire with combustibles must surely pay\nthe penalty sometimes.  The safest and wisest policy is to put the fire\nout altogether; get the evil temper destroyed by Divine grace, and then\nthis \"sin shall have no dominion over you.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\n\"The Liberal Deviseth Liberal Things.\"\n\nLittle Abe was endowed with a generous heart, but with very limited\nmeans.  He could generally say as the Apostles did to the lame man,\n\"Silver and gold have I none, but such as I have give I thee;\" yet he\noften devised means whereby he could enjoy the luxury of giving to\nothers.  His own children, and even those of the village, knew they\ncould get a penny from Abe if he had one in his pocket, although it\nmight be the last he had in the world, and many a time he might be seen\nsurrounded by a swarm of children in the street, all begging sweets or\nsome other little trifle of him; and you want no better proof of a\nman's habitual kindness than to see him often beleaguered by little\nchildren: they only beg where they get something.\n\nIf any poor neighbour was in want, and Abe had any means of assisting\nhim, he would not wait to be asked.  Many a time he has gone home to\nSally and told her of some poor creatures who had no bread in the\nhouse, and then he would wind up his tale of sorrow with, \"Naa, lass,\nwe'll be loike to tak' 'em a loaf,\" whereupon the good woman would go\nto the cupboard and take out a big family loaf, and hand it to him, and\nhe would hurry away to gladden the hearts of the hungry children.\n\nPeople do not need to be rich to exhibit the spirit of true generosity,\nbecause it is not so much in the amount given, as in the spirit in\nwhich it is done, and the sacrifice involved in the act.  It is a truly\nnoble thing for a wealthy man to bestow of his abundance on the needy\naround him, and he who does so is sure to gain a place in the\naffections of the people.  Everyone admires a liberal man; indeed, it\nis questionable whether admiration for this quality may not sometimes\nblind us to other things in the same persons which are actual faults,\nand hence a man may be intemperate or profane or worldly, and people\nsay, \"Well, but he is such a generous fellow,\" and that is taken as\nmitigation of his faults: thus he is allowed to indulge in many wrongs,\nbecause he has one excellency in his character.  Men are not often\nimpartial judges; their minds are warped by unduly regarding one virtue\nmore than another, and consequently their verdict on character is not\nalways reliable.  Give a benevolent man his full meed of honour, but\nlet not his liberal gifts become the purchase price at which he may\nobtain indulgence for other sins, or he makes morality only a mockery.\n\nGenerosity is an essential mark of the Christian character, and should\ndisplay itself in every follower of our Lord.  This is the spirit which\nprompted the poor of the Lord's flock to share their scanty means among\ntheir poorer brethren, and therefore, though Abe Lockwood was never in\nhis life worth many shillings at one time, he was one among a multitude\nof humble and generous spirits moving in the lower walks of life, who\noften enjoy the pleasure of relieving the wants of sufferers around\nthem.\n\n\n\"A GOOD NAME IS BETTER THAN GREAT RICHES.\"\n\nAmong the people in his own locality no one stood in better repute than\nLittle Abe.  If any sick person wanted spiritual direction or comfort\nthey would send for Little Abe.  He was quite at home in the sick-room;\nthe sight of his bright genial face would be sure to cheer the\nsufferer: and then he knew so well how to lead the penitent sinner to\nthe Saviour, that the gloom of many a bedside has been dispelled by his\nhumble ministrations in this way.\n\nHe loved this work, and gave a great amount of his spare time in\nvisiting the sick.  He was ready to go anywhere, any time, night or\nday, that he might help to sustain the soul in the last trial of faith;\nand many an hour has he sat by the bedside of some dying neighbour,\ntalking, singing, praying, and trying to cheer him through the valley\nof death.\n\nThe little Bishop was general religious factotum in his own village,\nand especially among those who were in any way connected with Salem\nChapel.  In baptisms and burials he was held by many in as high repute\nas the regular ministers.  Often it happened that he was fetched by\nsome troubled parent to baptize a dying child, and he would perform the\nrite with as great satisfaction to the friends, in his blue smock and\nclogs, as he could have done had he worn the white neckcloth, and\npassed through ordination honours.\n\n\n\"WILT TA KNUG?\" (KNEEL).\n\nA man came one evening to Abe's house, knocked at the door, then opened\nit a little way, thrust in his face and said, \"Is Abe in?\"  It was a\nmost unusual thing to see that man there, for he was a wicked, drunken\ncharacter, a trouble to the neighbourhood where he lived, and often a\nterror to his poor wife and children.  Many a time Abe had tried to\ninduce him to go to the Lord's house and begin to lead a new life; but\nsin had such a hold upon him that he only made light of everything\ngood, and, in his ignorance and hardihood, professed to disbelieve in\nGod and His Word.\n\n\"Is Abe in?\" asked the face at the door.\n\n\"Yes, I'm here,\" replied the little man in question, looking up from\nhis Bible, and peering over the lamp on the table to see who the\nspeaker was, \"Come in, mon; open th' door and come in.\"\n\nAnd in a little further came the face and head, followed by a pair of\nbroad shoulders and a huge body, whereupon Abe saw who they belonged\nto, and rising from his seat he noticed that the great hard face was\nclouded and softened with sorrow.  Ah, it is a hard heart that does not\nmelt sometimes.\n\n\"What's ta want?\" asked Abe, in a kind tone.\n\n\"Arr bit bairn 's badly,\" replied the big man, \"and th' missus wants\nthe' to come and sprinkle it.\"\n\n\"Th' missus want me does she,--and what does thaa want?\" said Abe,\nlooking meaningly at him.  \"Does thaa want me to come?\"\n\n\"Ay,\" responded the man, looking rather humble, and feeling that Abe\nhad obtained his first victory by that confession.\n\n\"Well, I'll goa wi' the',\" and, putting on his hat, they went out\ntogether, and betook themselves to the dwelling of the visitor.\nArriving there Abe beheld a painful yet by no means uncommon picture.\nA room miserably furnished, and not the ghost of comfort anywhere;\nseveral little ragged children stood grouped together, and in the midst\nof them was the saddest figure of all--\"the missus,\" the wife, the\nmother, in tears, and on her lap, wrapped in an old faded shawl, was a\ndying infant.  The woman tried to smile amid her tears as Abe came in,\njust the shadow of a smile, and then her poor face settled again to\nthat look of anguish it had before, as if all her meagre joy were\nslowly dying with that little creature that lay feebly gasping on her\nlap.  It was so like a woman to remember amid her grief, to give a sign\nof welcome to her visitor.\n\n\"Aye, my lass, I'm real sorry for the'; thaa has a mother's heart, I\nsee, and thaa'd loike to keep thee bairn, I knaw thaa wad; but thaa mun\nremember God has first claim on 't, and if He wants it, thaa'll be\nloike to let Him ha' it.  He can tak' better care on 't nor thaa can;\nbless it, it'll sooin be better off nor ony on us--don't fret, my\nlass--th' Lord comfort the'.\"  And so in this way Little Abe went on\ntalking, softening, comforting, and strengthening the bitter heart of\nthat poor woman; at length he said, \"Thaa wants me to baptize th'\nlittle un, I reckon.\"\n\n\"If yo' pleeas,\" she replied.  \"Jack,\" added she turning to her\nhusband, who stood all the time with his back to the table, trying hard\nto keep his eyes dry and swallow down a lump that was continually\nrising into his throat, \"get a basin o' watter, my lad.\"  It was said\nso sadly and yet so kindly, that if Jack had had to go through fire to\nfetch that basin of water he would have got it.  In a minute or two he\ncame with the basin in his big broad hand and stood close up to his\nwife's side, looking down on his dying child.\n\n\"This is a religious service,\" said Abe, \"and I want yo' to understand\nthat.\"  He had his doubts about the man, notwithstanding his evident\neffort to control his emotions; he knew the man's sinful character,\nknew his hostility to everything religious, and now that he had him to\nsomething like an advantage, he wanted to make the most of it.  \"I'm\nbaan to baptize that bairn in God's name, and we mun kneel daan and\npray for it;\" and then looking at the father he said, \"Wilt ta knug\"\n(kneel) \"daan with us?\"\n\nThe man made no answer, but still kept by his wife's side, looking down\non the infant.\n\n\"Wilt ta knug with us, Jack?\" he repeated; \"it's thy bairn, and it'll\nsooin be gone.\"  Still there came no reply; a conflict was going on in\nthe breast of that strong man, the wicked man of the world was\ncontending against the father.\n\n\"If thaa will n't knug beside the' wife and bairns, I'll go haam\nagean,\" said Abe.\n\nThe man was conquered; the devil was strong in him, but the father was\nstronger.  He could not bear the thought of paying a slight to his\ndying child.  \"I'll knug,\" said he, and that instant he full on his\nknees.  Abe baptized the child, and then all of them knelt together,\nwhile he poured out his soul in earnest supplication to God for the\nchild and the family; but especially for the father who was now, almost\nfor the first time in his life, found humbly kneeling at the throne of\ngrace.  It would have been very gratifying if we could say that this\nwas the turning-point in that man's life; but here our knowledge of the\ncase ends.  It is, however, not too much to hope that the memory of\nthat sad night, coupled with the loss of the little child, would have a\ngood influence on the subsequent life of the man, and perhaps be the\nmeans, under God, of leading him to seek that grace which alone could\nafford him hope of meeting his child again in the kingdom of glory.\n\nWhether this was so or not, the incident shows the high esteem in which\nLittle Abe was held by the people among whom he lived.  We see that he\ngained a decided advantage over the hardened sinner when he constrained\nhim to kneel before the Lord; and it also shows that when scoffers and\nso-called unbelievers are brought into the shadows of death, their\nunbelief forsakes them, and like devils, \"they believe and tremble.\"\n\nIt was no uncommon thing for Abe to be called out of the mill to\nconduct the burial service at Salem, in place of the minister, who\nperhaps had never been informed of the funeral, or even of the death.\nNo matter, poor man, he has sadly lowered himself in the opinion of the\nfamily and friends by not being present.  He might have known he would\nbe wanted, and at what time of the day, and in what place, and it is\nvery unkind of him not to be there.  Where is he?  Poor innocent, he is\ntramping off to a distant country appointment in simple ignorance of\nthe misdemeanour of which he is guilty.  A minister ought to know\neverything--know who is well and who is not; ministers are different\nfrom all other people, and more is expected from them.  If, for\ninstance, any one is ill, the doctor must be sent for; but the minister\nis expected to come without being requested.  It is his duty to attend\nto the sick of his flock.  It is no matter whether he knows of the\nillness or not, he ought to know of it; a pretty shepherd he must be\nnot to know if any of his sheep are ill; he should make inquiries for\nhimself among the people.  Are any persons dead here, or any sick? any\nto be prayed for? or are there any disaffected parties waiting to be\ncoaxed into a good humour? any croakers in want of a good subject to\nvent their bile upon? or anything at all in the general ministerial way\nthat wants doing?  A man could easily find out what is going on, and\nwhat is going off, with a little ingenuity and perseverance; and it\nwould save all the trouble and expense of a post card to the minister\nasking him to call.  Let us hope, therefore, that in future there will\nbe no misunderstanding upon these important matters, because every\nplace in the land is not favoured with such an able, willing, and\nacceptable substitute as the people of Berry Brow had in Little Abe.\n\nReference has already been made to the esteem with which he was\nregarded by his fellow-work-people.  As years went on this regard was,\nif possible, intensified, and it was beautiful to see how the younger\nmen in the mill would strive to lighten his work, and make his duties\nas easy for him as possible.  Nor was this kindly feeling confined to\nthe mill operatives; his masters, gentlemen of high position in the\nlocality, held him in great esteem, for they knew him to be a honest,\nupright man, and a faithful servant.  He had, in his latter days, many\nliberties and favours which could not be permitted to their employes\ngenerally; often one or another of his masters would come into the\nmill, and have a few minutes' conversation with him about his work as a\npreacher, and his religious zeal, enlivened by his irrepressible\nhumour, almost invariably sent the master away with his face covered\nwith smiles, and his good opinion of the Little Bishop confirmed.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII.\n\nUsed Up.\n\nAs time went on, and year after year was added to his age, Little Abe\nbegan to show, by unmistakable signs, that he was becoming an old man;\nand although his lively temperament enabled him to hold up against his\ninfirmities for some time, the day came when he confessed he was an old\nman and stricken in years; he began to speak of himself as being \"used\nup,\" \"worn aat,\" \"done for,\" and the like.  All the marks were upon\nhim; his hair was snowy white, his face was furrowed with age, his\nsight was dim, his step was slow and feeble, his voice tremulous, and\nthe signs were plainly seen that the Little Bishop was drawing near the\nend of his journey.\n\nOne day he was unexpectedly called to go into his master's office, and\nimmediately he made his way there, when something like the following\ndialogue took place.  \"Well, Abe,\" his master began, \"I am sorry to\nobserve that you are getting so infirm that you cannot do a day's work\nnow.  I have seen this for some time, yet did not want to turn you\naway, but now I am sorry to say you will have to leave the mill, and I\nmust put another man in your place.\"\n\nThis coming so suddenly from the master was enough to stagger a\nstronger man than Abe, and certainly he felt a little troubled at what\nhe had heard, but he could put his trust in God.\n\n\"I'm vary sorry to laave, maaster, but I knaw I am gettin' owd and used\nup.\"\n\n\"And what will you do for a livelihood, Abe?  I'm afraid you would not\nbe likely to get employment anywhere else at your age, what will you\ndo?\"\n\n\"Well, I don't knaw what I mun do, but I'm sure my Father will niver\nsee me want; 'I have been young and now am old, yet have I never seen\nthe righteous forsaken or his seed begging bread.'\"  This beautiful\ntriumph of simple faith in God was soon followed by its reward; his\nmaster had carried the test far enough, he saw once more his old\nservant was a man of God, his face broke out into a smile which showed\nhe had only been playing with Abe: \"We have arranged to give you a\nweekly allowance sufficient to keep you and your wife as long as you\nlive.\"\n\n\"Praise th' Lord!\" exclaimed Abe, \"I knew my Father would not see me\nwant.\"  So from that time our old friend received his weekly allowance,\nand was kept from want.  The Lord takes care of His own children that\ntrust in Him, and He often does so through the agency of some other\nindividual, yet whomsoever he be, he shall have his reward.  \"Whosoever\nshall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water\nonly in the name of a disciple, verily I say unto you, he shall in no\nwise lose his reward\" (Matt. x. 42).\n\n\nOUT OF HARNESS.\n\nWhen our old friend became so infirm as to be unable to work for his\ndaily bread, we may naturally conclude that his labours as a local\npreacher also necessarily terminated.  It was a great trouble to him to\nhave to put off the harness; he struggled against it as long as he\ncould, until indeed it was no longer safe for him to go to his beloved\nwork; so he was compelled to stay at home, but never man left a calling\nwith greater regret than he did this, for he loved it with all his\nheart.\n\nNor was he alone in his regrets.  Many shared in them when it was known\nup and down that Little Abe was \"out of harness,\" and would come no\nmore.  Some friends sitting together in one of the country places of\nthe Circuit were talking about the preachers they had heard in that\nplace, some of them in heaven, and some remaining till God should call\nthem home; reference was made to Abe Lockwood, or as he was often\ncalled in the latter days of his life, \"Old Abe!\"  \"Ah, there's dear\n'Old Abe!' he'll never come again.\"  A fine little fellow that sat\nlistening to the conversation rose to his feet, with his eyes full of\ntears, and exclaimed, \"Why won't they let him come?  If he only came\nand stood in the pulpit for us to see him, it would do.\"  Old Abe was a\ngreat favourite with children, and he was always fond of them;\nsometimes old age turns folks sour, crabby, and snarlish with children,\nbut age only mellowed him, and made him more loving and loved.\n\n\n\"WHERE'S 'T YOUNG PRAACHER?\"\n\nAn amusing incident came under my notice during the time I was minister\nat Wellhouse in the Huddersfield Circuit.  I was in the front garden\none windy morning, attending to a few plants, and endeavouring to\nprotect them against the gusty wind, when I thought I heard someone\ncalling my name, but on looking up and seeing no one I resumed my task.\nIn a moment or two I heard someone say, \"Bless th' Lord!  I've managed\nit at last, hurrah!\" and on looking up, I saw Little Abe struggling\nalong the steep pathway in a field just in front of my house, his head\nbare, his hat in his hand, his white locks tossed in wild confusion by\nthe gale, yet holding on by their roots, refusing to part from their\nplace of nativity.\n\n\"Well, I declare, here's Little Abe tipping about in the wind like a\nshuttlecock.\"  Out I ran, and getting hold of his arm towed him into\ndock.\n\n\"Whatever has brought you here in such a gale of wind, Abe?\"\n\n\"Hurrah!  I'st see him naa,\" was his only response.\n\n\"See who?\"\n\n\"Why, th' young praacher to be sure; ha'nt ye gotten a young praacher\nin your haase?  I've come to see him.\"  So laughing heartily at Abe's\nway of installing new members into the ministry, I opened the door and\npushed him into the house.  My wife was as much astonished at his\narrival as I was, yet very glad to see him, especially when he inquired\n\"Where's t' young praacher?  Let's see him.  Come, hold him up; there,\nnaa, put him on my lap and let me have a bit of talk to him.\"  And down\nhe sat, and the \"young praacher,\" at that time having advanced to the\nage of eight or ten weeks, was placed in the old man's lap, where he\nlay complacently winking his eye at Abe while he told him how he had\nleft home after breakfast and walked over the hills about five miles in\na storm of wind on purpose to make the acquaintance of this \"young\npraacher\" whose name was already on the Circuit plan.  And there he\nstayed for the day, talking, singing, and communing with his young\nfriend till evening, when we sent him home by the train.\n\nWell, the time came when dear old Abe visited his friends nor stood in\nthe familiar pulpits any more; then everyone, young and old, felt they\nhad sustained a loss.  Yet this is the natural course of things all the\nworld over; the scenes of life are continually changing, so are the\nmost familiar and most beloved faces in those scenes; they come, and\ncome, and come again, until we unconsciously acquire the habit of\nexpecting them, but when at length they do not reappear as formerly, we\nrealize an unexpected loss.\n\nHow many grand and familiar faces have disappeared from our pulpits and\nsanctuaries since we first began to remember things!  In running the\nmind's eye back into byegone years, what a number we can call into\nrecollection who are gone, never to return; while the truth is forced\nupon us, we are daily hurrying after them, and ere long some others\nwill miss our faces from among the familiar scenes, and let us hope,\nwill regret our absence.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII.\n\n\"Better is the End of a Thing that the Beginning.\"\n\nIt was known by Little Abe that his infirmities were premonitory of the\nend which was not far off.  He knew that though he might be permitted\nto linger for a while in the border land, he must soon receive command\nto march over the boundary, and enter the eternal world.  Just as a\nshock of corn remains in the field to dry and ripen after the shearing,\nso our old friend remained in his place here for a short time, ripening\nfor the heavenly garner.\n\nHe had just sufficient strength to go quietly about among his old\nfriends in the village, and talk over the good things of his Father's\nkingdom; or he could get as far as the chapel, which was ever dear to\nhim, and the more so now that he felt the time was fast approaching\nwhen he should enter it no more.  He knew that before long his happy\nspirit would be called up to worship in a grander temple, among a\nmultitude of those \"who had washed their robes, and made them white in\nthe blood of the Lamb;\" and as he sat in old Salem, and listened to the\nsweet notes of the organ, his thoughts were oft carried away to the\ngreat temple above, where day and night the harpers are striking their\njoyous strings to the Redeemer's praise.  Often when the choir chanted\nthe solemn words:--\n\n  \"What shall I be, my Lord, when I behold Thee,\n    In awful majesty at God's right hand;\n  And 'mid th' eternal glories that enfold me,\n    In strange bewilderment, O Lord, I stand?\n  What shall I be? these tears,--they dim my sight,\n    I cannot catch the blisful vision right,\"\n\nhe was like one enraptured, as with tearful eyes, quivering lips, and\nclasped hands he listened to the soul-stirring hymn.  Little Abe was\nripening for the end.\n\n\n\"ARISE!  LET US GO UP TO BETHEL.\"\n\nA touching little incident is told of him about this time.  He always\nretained an affectionate regard for the old tree on Almondbury Common,\nwhere many years before he had made his peace with God, and now a\nstrong desire was felt by him to visit the consecrated spot once more\nbefore he died.  It was his Bethel pillar; against that old tree he had\nrested his weary head on the dark night of his desolation; there the\nLord God had appeared to him, and filled his soul with the joys of his\nsalvation; there the morning of a new life first broke upon his\ntroubled spirit; there he had made a covenant with the God of Jacob.\nThat old pillar was anointed with the first tears of sanctified joy\nwhich ever fell from his eyes; it was the altar on which he offered his\nbroken and renewed heart to God, and he felt as if the Lord had given\nit to him as an inheritance and a monument of His pardoning mercy.\n\nHe must see it once more and renew his vows to God; so one day they\nwrapped him up in his great coat, and gave him his stick, and sent him\nforth alone to his first sanctuary.  Feebly and slowly the old man made\nhis way to the spot, and standing on the very ground, and with his hand\nupon the same old tree, he saw how the locality was altered.  Men had\nbeen busy during these years, population had increased in the\nneighbourhood, houses were built in different places, and many changes\nhad taken place.  But there still remained the little running stream\nclose by,--figure to him of the stream of Divine grace, that had never\nbeen cut off, never dried up in the drought of summer, never stopped by\nthe chill of winter, never lost in the wild growth of the wilderness\nworld; but on and on it flowed, down the incline of the moral world,\nwinding and turning from side to side, as if to gladden all in its\ncourse, away down the hill among the gaps of the rocks, and over the\ngravelly ground of human life, until it finds its way again into the\nriver of God's eternal love.  And there too, stood the tree, the\nmonument; but both man and tree bore unmistakable marks of age.  The\nunwearying fingers of time had planted innumerable mosses against its\nbark; some of its old branches had withered, its foliage was scantier\nthan of old; it was ripe, too; man and tree were both ripe and ready to\nfall.\n\nWhat a sympathy there was between them, what a friendship, what a\nsecret!  How many storms had both those old trees encountered since God\nfirst threw them together!  The old elm had shaken, bent, and groaned\nunder the violent grasp of the tempest, which hundreds of times had\nswept across that common.  But it still stood, patiently and bravely\nwaiting, amid the rolling years, for the end.  Brave old elm!  There is\nno sympathy in a tree, or this final meeting would have awakened it;\nbut what matter?  There is enough in man for the tree and himself too,\nenough to kindle regard in his heart for every square inch of timber in\nthat old trunk; enough to make him see eyes in every joint--loving\neyes, looking at him in mute affection; enough to transform every limb\ninto strong arms stretched out to protect the old man in his\nfeebleness, and enable him to see a smile in every wrinkling crack and\nfissure in thy hard, weather-beaten bark.  Dear old elm, there needs no\napology if a man love thee.\n\nWho could wonder if Old Abe felt something like this for that tree? we\nshould wonder if he did not.  There, Old Abe, dear trembling old man,\nrest thy white, honoured head against the breast of that elm, and weep\nif thou wilt, and never mind whether man understand thee or not, God\ndoes.  Weep, old man, but not in fear; thou hast nothing to fear, God\nis with thee, and \"the place whereon thou standest is holy ground.\"  It\nis the natural vent for those feelings which come crowding in upon\nthee, some from the long past, and some from the approaching future,\nnow rapidly drawing on, with all its revelations of wonder and delight.\n\nAnd thus old Abe stood with his head resting against the tree, his eyes\nclosed, his tears running, and his lips silently moving in prayer to\nGod; so he paid his vows once more, and gathered strength for the few\nremaining days of his pilgrimage; then he retraced his steps towards\nhome, and by the time he arrived there he was entirely himself again,\nand no one would guess the emotion he had felt at Bethel.\n\n\"Well, Sally,\" he exclaimed, as he re-entered his cottage, \"I've been\nto th' owd spot!  They have hewn all abaat it, but th' owd tree stands\nyet God 'll keep that tree while I live, and then they may do what they\nlike wi' it.\"\n\nSo Abe went on, quietly severing himself from one tie after another\nwhich bound him to this world, and getting ready for his departure to\nanother and a better.  His mind was now steadfastly turned towards the\nfuture, and he was continually looking for his promised rest.  The\nnearer he got, to the end of his life, the clearer his prospects of\nheaven became; he enjoyed a most unclouded hope of glory.  Often he\nwould say, when talking with his friends, \"You'll be hearing some\nmornin' before lang that Abe is gone, and yo' needn't ask where.  Tak'\nmy word for it, I'll be in glory.  If you should hear I'm dead, you may\nset it daan that I'm in heaven.\"\n\nA brother local preacher had lain ill for some time, expecting every\nday to be his last.  Abe thought he would like to see him once more\nbefore he passed away, and accordingly he went, and the two old\nveterans spent a happy time together, conversing about the joys which\nwere before them.  \"We're both aat of harness naa, thaa sees,\" said\nAbe, \"and we'll sooin be at haam.  I want the' to tell them I'm coming,\nand shall n't be long after the'.\"\n\nEveryone thought that Abe would live the longer of the two, but he\ngained his prize first, passing away a little before his brother, and\nnow they both \"rest from their labours, and their works do follow them.\"\n\nAbe's remaining strength rapidly failed him at the last, so that he was\nunable to leave his room; yet he was always happy in prospect of the\nimmortal life before him.  \"No aching bones or tottering limbs there,\"\nhe would say; \"Glory to God!  I shall sooin be young agean.\"  The Bible\nand hymn-book were his constant companions now, and in peaceful\nexpectation he waited for the signal that would open to him the portals\nof the skies.\n\nThe annual lovefeast was held during the time when he was a prisoner in\nhis room, and it was a privation to him not to be able to get there\nonce more, but it was not to be.  They would hear his voice no more in\nSalem, but before long he would have to relate his enrapturing story\namong listening angels and saints before the throne.  Several of the\nfriends came down from the chapel to see him.  He said, \"Aye, lads, I\ncould loike to ha' been amang yo' once maar, but th' next toime I cross\nSalem doorstep I shall be carried over; but ne'er moind, I have seen a\ndoor opened in heaven, and I shall sooin go through--hallelujah!\"\n\nAt last he took to his bed never to rise again; the time of his\ndeparture was at hand.  As, however, his body lost strength, his spirit\nseemed to gain it; the words of the psalmist were ever on his lips,\n\"Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear\nno evil, for Thou art with me, Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me.\"\n\n\"Listen,\" he said one day, \"when I can't spaike to tell yo' haa I feel,\nI'll lift my hand, and yo'll knaw all's weal.\"  This was for their\nsakes.  He wanted to leave a token with his dear wife and children that\nshould antidote their sorrow when he was gone.\n\nA friend came one day from a distant town to see him; he felt very sad\nat finding him so near his end, and could not refrain from tears, but\nwhen the old man saw him weep, he began to repeat as well as his feeble\nvoice would allow--\n\n  \"Break off your tears, ye saints, and tell\n  How high your great Deliverer reigns;\n  See how He spoiled the hosts of hell,\n  And led the monster Death in chains.\"\n\n\nAnd then he took the part of comforter: \"Aye, my lad, what art ta\nlooking so sad abaat?  Thaa mun't be cast daan, thaa mun come up aat o'\nth' valley; bless th' Lord!\" he ran on, \"I'm on Pisgah, and my soul is\nfull of glory.  I'm in soight o' th' promised land, hallelujah!  I'll\nsooin be at haam.\"\n\nIn this happy frame he continued to the last.  As long as he could\nspeak at all, words of exultation and praise rose to his lips, and when\nhe could no longer articulate, he fell back upon the signal, and lifted\nhis hand, in token that all was well.  Dear old Abe, he was come to the\nend of his course, the shades of death were upon him, he was crossing\nthe narrow strip of neutral ground that divides the two worlds; friends\nstood in the margin of the shadow-land, watching him feebly lift his\nhand as he went over, till he could lift it no more, and when the\nsignal dropt mourners knew that Old Abe was safe through.\n\nHe died in the Lord in November 1871, and left a memory behind that\ngrows more fragrant as years go on.  His dust lies buried in the\ngraveyard in front of Salem Chapel, where, five years later, the\nremains of his devoted wife, Sally, were laid beside him.  There let\ntheir dust sleep until that day \"when they that are in their graves\nshall hear His voice, and come forth.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said a good woman one day when talking over the subject of these\npages, \"I should just like to have an odd look into heaven, to see what\nLittle Abe is about.\"  What is he about?  He is praising God in the\nglorious temple above: \"And one of the elders answered, saying unto me,\nWhat are these arrayed in white robes? and whence came they?  And I\nsaid unto him, Sir, thou knowest.  And he said to me, These are they\nwhich came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and\nmade them white in the blood of the Lamb.  Therefore are they before\nthe throne of God, and serve Him day and night in the temple.  They\nrest not day and night saying, Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty,\nwhich was, and is, and is to come.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE END.","title":"Little Abe, or, the Bishop of Berry Brow: Being the Life of Abraham Lockwood","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":44202}