Little Abe Part 6

He was below the average height and of slender build, yet withal a tough little man, and capable of performing as much work, and enduring as great fatigue, as men who are much bigger and stouter made. Abe used playfully to say, "Good stuff is mostly wrapped in small parcels."

"A penny is a great deal bigger than a sovereign, but yo' all know which to tak' when yo' have your choice." "I'm n.o.bbut a little un, but bless G.o.d, I'm big enough for th' Holy Ghost to dwell in." "I doan't tak' up much room in th' world, but I'm as happy as if I were as big as Berry Braa Church." "I'm a little un mysen, but my Father is greater than all."

His face was one of the happiest it was ever our good fortune to meet with. A smooth, round, ruddy, comfortable face, over which the razor had almost unlimited sway; his mouth was always in shape for a smile; his eyes were of a light blue colour, and twinkled with life and vivacity; his hair was always brushed back behind his ears, terminating behind in a pretty little natural curl and whether it had the black gloss of his younger days, or the snowy white of old age, it was always neat and orderly. In early life he was very proud of his hair, and bestowed a great deal of care in its cultivation and arrangement. When he became converted, Abe's hair underwent a marvellous change. The beautiful locks which had been so much admired and preserved with such care, were roughly taken off by the family scissors and thrown into the fire, and while they frizzled into smoke, Abe felt he had done the right thing in casting down every idol and putting away every mark of pride. Many and many a time in after years would he say to his wife, "Naa then, la.s.s, where's th' shears? Thaa mun clip my locks agean.

Samson gat clipt by his wife, and he were worth nought after, but thy shears mak's me strong." Then Sally would gently snip the ends of the curling fringe all around, while Abe, by way of encouraging her, would put in, "We mun shun th' appearance of evil, thaa knows; cut a bit more, la.s.s;" and then she would very reluctantly sever another lock or two, until he could be persuaded enough was taken off.

Abe was in the latter part of his life particularly neat in his attire, wearing an orthodox suit of black cloth, and cut in the Methodist preacher style. He wasn't at all sparing in white neckcloth, for he wore one that travelled around and around his neck in such profusion, that it might have been intended as an extra security against the loss of his head. Altogether he was quite the type of an old-fas.h.i.+oned Methodist preacher. In the pulpit his appearance was exceedingly prepossessing; he always had a smile on his face while talking, as if he thoroughly enjoyed the good news he was telling to others. In beginning to speak, or when about to say something which he thought particularly good, he had a way of holding his head a little over on one side, and clapping his hands together. These movements, accompanied with an occasional shrug of his shoulders, were among the general signs that the "Little Bishop" was having a good time, and when Abe was happy in his work, everyone that heard him had a liberal share of enjoyment and profit as well. But of course, like other men, he sometimes felt the misery of preaching in what he quaintly and appropriately called

"THE TIGHT JACKET."

Taking into account the want of education from which he suffered, the disadvantages he was at in preparing for his public duties, as well as other occasional depressing circ.u.mstances, we cannot wonder that he should sometimes have been the subject of the most painful restraints, likened by him to a "tight jacket." There was a wonderful difference in his preaching when he had one of these "hard times," and when he enjoyed liberty. If in the latter mood, as was generally the case, his tongue was like the pen of a ready writer, and streams of beautiful truth, sparkling with pious humour and accompanied with striking original ill.u.s.trations, would pour from his lips; but if he had the "tight jacket" on, he could scarcely say anything, and it was a pain to listen to him.

Poor Abe had one of these "pulpit fevers" in Salem Chapel one day, and Sally, his wife, was there; she sat all the time in a nervous torment, and as soon as he had finished, she rushed off out of the place ashamed of him. Dear woman, her homely criticisms were sometimes very severe upon him, partly because she was jealous for his reputation, and partly because she so loved him, and that was her way of showing the ardour of her affection; she used a liberty which by some universal law falls to the right of all affectionate wives whose husbands are preachers, and she occasionally said some very terrible things to him about his sermons. On this particular day, therefore, Abe knew pretty well that when he got home he would get something besides his dinner. He winced as he thought about it, and made the walk home as long as he could, in the hope that something might cool down a bit; however, he had to go in, so, shrinking into the smallest possible dimensions, he glided silently into the house, hung up his hat, and sat down. Sally was in a flutter, she was full, it must come:--"What hast ta been trying to do this mornin'?" she began, looking hard at him.

"Why, I couldn't mak' her goa a bit somehaa," meekly replied her good man.

"Goa! No, haa does th' think she could goa, thaa niver gat her on her feet."

Abe made no response, but sat mute in his misery, and poor Sally felt a reaction setting in, which made her feel as if she had allowed her ardent affection for him to carry her too far. Meanwhile, she was bustling about preparing the dinner, and when all was ready, she went over to him, and kissed his forehead, adding, "Naa, lad, come and get th' dinner, and don't moind what folk say; thaa'll do better next toime, th' Lord help the'." Abe was healed by a touch.

Ah, but he didn't like those dry, hard times, when he couldn't find a handful of green-meat to give to the Lord's dear sheep, and it would trouble him deeply to think that he had led the flock to expect green pasture, whereas he had only brought them to feed among rocks and stones. Then the old enemy would beset him, and say what an old fool he was to think he could preach; that the people only laughed at him and made sport of his sayings, and that he had better give up preaching, and try no more. But Abe would say, "Why, devil, thaa 'rt vary much troubled abaat my praaching; if I'm such an old fool as thaa mak's aat, I canna do the' so much harm." But all the banter and strife he had with the devil did not conquer that arch-enemy; talking to him is mostly waste time and ill-spent breath; there is another way which a good man has of finding relief; he can go to G.o.d in prayer.

This was Abe's sure refuge; here he vented his trouble, here he got comfort, here he gained fresh strength, and when he came warm from the closet struggle to the pulpit work he was another man. After pa.s.sing through one of these temptations, he was almost sure to tell the people, the next time he preached, how the devil had hara.s.sed him, and wanted him to give up preaching, but how the Lord had bidden him to go on, and on he would go and did; his restraints were broken, his tongue loosed, and his soul fired, it was a joy to hear him then.

He was one day rejoicing in his regained liberty, when he said, "Aye, bless yo', I wor as fast as a thief in a man-trap; I couldn't get away till th' Lord came and let me aat." And then turning upon the unsaved part of his congregation, he used a simile, which, on his behalf, I claim to be original if not elegant. Said he, "Yo' may think I was fast enough, but let me tell yo', not hoalf as fast as some of yo'

sinners. Yo' are like a flee" (fly) "in a treacle-pot; the more he kicks the faster he sticks." And there was truth in the saying, and although the figure might amuse, the moral would remain in many a mind for after-thought.

THE BLACK CLOTH SUIT.

When Abe had been some time preaching, and was making a good name for himself in the Circuit, a desire began to be felt by many of the friends to hear him in High Street Chapel, Huddersfield. This was before the present splendid sanctuary was erected. Accordingly when the next plan came out, he was appointed to take a Sunday morning service. Many a time did he tell of the consternation both he and Sally felt on making this discovery. He was sitting at the end of the table one evening with the plan in his hand marking off his work, and his wife was busy about something in the room, when, all at once, Abe exclaimed, "Eh, la.s.s, what dost ta think they've done?"

Sally looked rather startled and said, "Who? what?"

"Why, they've plann'd me in High Street on a Sunday mornin'."

"Niver!" gasped Sally, coming to look at the plan herself; "where is it?"

He placed his finger on the number which indicated his work, and she saw it was a fact.

"Well," she said, "thaa canna goa; thaa has no claathes fit to wear amang them grand foak."

Now Abe would never have given his clothes a thought if she had not brought the matter before his mind in the way she did; now, however, he remembered his coloured suit and his thick boots, and felt they were scarcely befitting the place he was called to occupy, however well they might do among plain people in the country places. At length he said, "But if I'm plann'd, I mun goa, and if they don't loike my claathes, I canna help 't." Meanwhile the date of the High Street event drew near, and the following Sunday would find "Little Abe" at his post of duty.

He was far more anxious about his work than his appearance, so that all the care on this matter fell upon his wife. She was bothered sadly about his clothes. Sat.u.r.day came, and, poor thing, she was bestowing especial attention upon his old coat, mending b.u.t.ton-holes, cleaning spots out, brus.h.i.+ng, shaking, and scrutinizing the old garments as she had never done before. That evening they were sitting together, just before Abe went out to the Band Meeting in the Chapel; a loud knock came to the door. In a moment Sally opened it, and a man handed her a large parcel, simply saying, "That's for Mr. Lockwood," and immediately went away.

"What's this?" exclaimed Sally, feeling and patting the parcel.

"Nay, la.s.s, don't ask me; thaa mun open 't, and then I'll tell the'."

A table-knife soon severed the string by which it was tied, and the good woman proceeded with nervous fingers to unfold the wrapping, and out came a black cloth suit for her husband. Neither of them could speak for a moment or two; she lifted her ap.r.o.n to wipe her eyes; Abe's lip quivered, and his eyes brimmed over; he couldn't help it, big round tears fell on his clasped hands as they rested on the table; both of them looked at the parcel. "Does the' see that?" at length said Sally; "thaa'll look loike a travelling praacher naa, lad."

That broke the spell. Up jumped Abe and began to leap about the house, clapping, rubbing his hands, and blessing the Lord. All the children joined the chorus, laughing, jumping, and shouting "Daddy's got some new claathes! Daddy's got some new claathes!" and poor Sally, full of smiles, holding up one garment after another, kept interjecting, "Well I niver!" "Law me!" "Eh, dear!" Abe's heart was full, and he must needs empty it before Him who had inclined some unknown friend to send this handsome and appropriate present just at the right time. From an inner room the voice of the good man was heard going up to G.o.d in grateful acknowledgment of His kindness; and the children were hushed into quietness hushed,--hushed while Daddy was praying. The next day Abe appeared in his new clerical attire, and from that time was never without the requisite black cloth suit in which to go about his beloved Master's work. Oh, how much we may learn from a little incident like this--how much of humble trust in G.o.d under all the circ.u.mstances of life, how much a.s.surance that "your heavenly Father knoweth ye have need of these things," and that "My G.o.d will supply all your need!"

CHAPTER XV.

A Basket of Fragments.

The fame of "Little Abe" was not confined to his own Circuit, it spread among the villages and towns for many miles around, so that he was greatly sought after to preach anniversary and other sermons, and wherever he went the people felt he was "a man sent from G.o.d." There are some who well remember his first visit to Elland, and the delightful day they had with him in the Lord's house. His text was, "My G.o.d shall supply all your need." He read these words, and then clapped his hands together, while his face beamed with smiles. "Well,"

said he, "do you want me to praach ony after that? what can onybody say after Paul spakes? He says everything with once opening his maath; with one scratch of his wonderful pen, he writes more than I could spake in a lifetoime, if I were left to mysen, 'My G.o.d shall supply all your need.' Friends, there's nowt left, yo've gotton all in that, ivery thing yo' need, and I reckon you'r weel off."

From this simple and easy beginning, he gradually got away into his subject, explaining, ill.u.s.trating, and applying his text in a way that warmed every heart. He was condemning the want of faith which characterized some professors: "Bless yo'," he said, "sooiner than aar G.o.d would see His faithful children want, He would mak' apple-dumplins grow on ash-trees." And then he exclaimed, "Don't yo' believe these words? Ah, 'tis nowt unless yo' believe; you might be eating th'

dumplins and smackin' your lips on th' apples, but if you doan't believe, yo'll say it's a dream. Wake up, and believe naa, and you'll foind your maath is full of good things."

"DISH-CLOTH."

I have said that some of Abe's similes were not very elegant, and when the following is related, my readers will agree with me; but they were well understood by the people among whom they were uttered. Speaking one day of the pardoning mercy of G.o.d, and showing that He does not grudgingly forgive the penitent sinner, Abe said, "Yo' womenfolk know haa to wesh a pie-dish, I reckon? Yo'll tak' th' dish and put it into th' hot waiter, and then tak' dish-cloth and rub it raand and raand, insoide and aatsoide, till it's clean, and then yo'll wipe it wi' a clean towel, and mak' it look just loike a bron new dish; and that's haa th' Lord does wi' a poor sinner: He gies him a plunge into th'

Gospel fountain, weshes all his sins away, and brings him aat a bron new man." An old woman sitting there caught the figure in a moment, and responded energetically, "Maa th' Lord tak' th' dishcloth and wipe some aat here t'-noight!" "Amen," exclaimed "the Bishop."

"TASTE AND TRY."

Abe's remarks on Psalm x.x.xiv. 8, "O taste and see that the Lord is good," etc., were very characteristic. "David was nooan a bad man to deal with; he didn't try to deceive onybody and mak' them believe a lie, like th' devil does; he says, yo' may 'taste and see.' Naa, that ought to satisfy yo' particular talk; yo' loike to taste th' b.u.t.ter and cheese afore you buy, and if it's gooid, you say, 'I'll tak' a pund o'

that;' naa, then, come and try if th' Lord is gooid. Aye, bless yo', He is gooid! He's as fresh as th' morning dew, and sweet as new cream," and then with a quaint look he would add, "and there's a deal more on Him than you often foind on your milk."

He used to say that religion could be tested in two ways;--you can taste it yoursen, and you can see it in others. See what it has done for your neighbours--how it has changed th' lion into a lamb, th'

raving sot into a sober and happy man; weshed th' tongue and purified th' heart o' th' blasphemer, and filled th' maath of the dumb with songs of thanksgiving, see!--"See that the Lord is good!" Then raising his voice and reaching out his arm he would exclaim, "There's noan so bloind as those that weant see! but remember, yo' weant always be able to play th' bloind man, G.o.d will crack a thunderbolt close to your ear some day, and yo'll open your eyes to see th' judgment before yo', and then what will yo' say?"

His only aim in what he said was to reach the people's hearts and bring them to decision for Christ; that was the reward he coveted, nothing more, nothing less; only let him see sinners coming to Jesus, and he was happy. He would stay all night by a penitent, and never leave until he knew the poor soul was safe in the kingdom of G.o.d. Time was nothing to him; the long, dark journey home brought no misgivings to his mind. When his work was done, and another soul safe in the arms of Jesus, the humble village preacher would take his stick, or, as he sometimes called it, his pony, and set off home, where many a time he arrived faint and tired in the dead of the night, but with his soul full of that peace which only a man feels who has ungrudgingly laid his last remnant of energy at the feet of his Divine Master.

"WHO'S BEEN HERE?"

"Little Abe" used everything that came to hand in order to make the Gospel plain, and enforce its teachings upon his hearers. Zeal for the work, and a devout bias to his mind, enabled him to find religious teaching in many things, wherein perhaps others would never have discovered any.

He was in one of his sermons exhorting the people to watch against the devil, lest he should gain an entrance to their hearts and spoil the work of G.o.d. "Naa," said he, "I'll tell yo' some'at. Aar lads" (his own sons) "took a fancy for a bit of garden; we had a little patch of graand by aar haase; well, they set to wark, mended th' fence all raand, dug up th' soil, threw aat th' stones and rubbish, raked it over and marked it aat into beds, and planted flaars, and you may depend t'

lads wor praad o' their wark; for mony a week they kept doin a bit noights and mornin's to keep it raight. By-and-bye, flaars came into bloom, pinks, panseys, and other things came aat all over th' garden; weren't they praad naa, and so wor I. One mornin', just afore we were going t' th' mill, th' big lad went aat to look at th' garden a minute, and th' first words he said wor, 'Who's been here? Who's been here?'

Aat I went, and I wor raight grieved to see all th' garden spoilt, flaars broken off, little beds trampled aat o' shape, and th' wark of months all undone. I saw in a minute haa it wor: an owd a.s.s had gotten in during th' noight and done all th' mischief. 'Haa could he get in,'

said th' lad, 'th' fence was all roight and safe?' But I said, 'Did ta fasten th' gate last noight?' He looked at th' gate and said, 'I don't knaw, father.' Ah, that wor it, there wor his foot-tracks through th'

gateway. Ah, friends, the devil is like an owd a.s.s, goin' skulking and shuffling abaat in th' dark when other folks are in bed sleeping, and he is always trying to get into th' Lord's garden and spoil th' flaars; yo' may mend th' fence as much as yo loike, but if you don't fasten th'

gate, he'll be in and undo all th' good wark in your hearts. Shut th'

gate, and fasten it; nail it up, raather than let th' owd cuddy get in; he hates everything that is good in nature and grace; he'll spoil th'

best wark of G.o.d in a single noight; th' track of his owd hoof means mischief, and one of his kicks would lame onybody; keep th' devil aat o' th' heart, fence it raand with prayer; watch against th' enemy, and you'll be roight noight and day."

"When a strong man armed keepeth his palace, his goods are in peace"

(Luke xi. 21).