Little Abe Part 5

CHAPTER XII.

"b.u.t.terfly Preachers."

Abe had no sympathy with men who allowed themselves to be called preachers, and yet could treat with indifference the work which was allotted to them on the Circuit plan; men who seldom made their minds up to go to their work, until they saw what kind of weather it was likely to be; men who didn't like going out in the rain for fear of getting damp, nor in the wind because it exhausted them, nor in the sun because it broiled them, nor in the dark for fear they might miss their way. He called them "b.u.t.terfly preachers," and often declared he would be ashamed to be counted among them.

Yet he did not lay all the blame of their conduct upon the shoulders of these men, because he thought the people helped in some measure to put "b.u.t.terfly notions" into their minds. If a good man came to his appointment through the rain and wind, and got somewhat badly used by the weather, someone was almost sure to say something to frighten and dishearten him from ever doing so again. "Oh dear, have you come in all this rain? Well, I hardly thought you would be here; n.o.body could blame you for staying at home on such a day; you are very wet, you'll be sure to take cold and be laid up," and Abe used to say that kind of talk was enough to give a chill to any man, and tempt him to stay at home next time for fear it might rain.

It did not make any difference to him, however; he went in all weathers, rain or sunshine, winter and summer. There is a little ditty he used to sing--

"Come rain or come blow, A Methodist preacher, I must go."

One Sunday morning he was planned to preach at Shepley, and it was pouring down rain. He, however, set off under his umbrella; but long before he reached his destination he was drenched to the skin. Prior to going into the chapel he called at the house where he was going to dine that day; the good woman was grieved to see him in such a condition. "Dear me," said she, "you are almost drowned; come in, take your wet clothes off, and go to bed." "Nay, nay," replied Abe, "yo'

mun't tak' me for a b.u.t.terfly preacher; I'm noan going to bed i'

dayloight, I'm baan to praach." And turning to her husband, who was a big man, he said, "Thaa mun lend me some o' thy claathes." The proposal to adorn himself in his host's clothes seemed so ridiculous, considering that Abe was a little man, that both husband and wife laughed right out. "Aye," said the man, "thou would look a queer b.u.t.terfly going into th' pulpit in my wings." But Abe wasn't to be put off: "Come," said he, "thaa mun foind me some o' thy claathes." They found him a spare suit, and in a few minutes he came downstairs fully attired, and presenting such a figure that the man and his wife were almost ill with laughing at him. It signified nothing to Abe who laughed or who didn't; off he went to chapel. He was a few minutes late, and most of the congregation were in their places. He was therefore very eager to get to the pulpit; but in going across the chapel for this purpose, one of his borrowed shoes slipped off, which brought him to a sudden standstill, and caused special attention to be drawn to his singular outfit; and the moment the people comprehended the state of things, it was impossible to suppress a laugh in old or young; and yet while they laughed at his odd figure, their hearts warmed towards him as they thought of his zeal in coming so far, on such a day, to preach to them.

That morning Abe had a good time in the pulpit. He was very lively, and knocked about a good deal; but it was noticed that he had frequently to be looking down on the pulpit floor, and shuffling about with his feet. It afterwards came out, that, in his excited moments, he had dropped his shoes off, and in getting them on again, had mixed them, and put his feet into the wrong receptacles. This occasioned him a considerable amount of inconvenience, which ultimately exhausted his patience. He kicked the shoes aside, and said, "I have been trying all th' mornin' to stand in another man's shoes, and I canna' manage it; I'm in borrowed claathes, too, but, thank G.o.d, my sermon is my own."

This little diversion set him off in another direction, and he turned the incident to such good and practical account, showing that Jesus once stood in our place and bore our stripes, that many have long remembered that service with very great pleasure.

TOILING ON.

On one occasion, when going to a distant appointment, his zeal was put to the test in such a degree that surely he would have been excusable if he had turned back and gone home again. Abe had a dread of disappointing a congregation. He used to say, "If I slip them once, two to one they'll pay me back; noa, I mun goa."

He had to set out one Sunday morning in a pelting rain for a walk of about six miles. It had been raining more or less for several days; the roads were in a sad condition for a "travelling praacher," as he often styled himself. The streams by the roadside were swollen over, and pouring their abundance out on the highroad, until it was very little better than a bog. Under these circ.u.mstances the wet soon found its way through Abe's boots and clothes. "Ne'er moind," he said to himself, "I'll find some dry claathes when I get there." So on he went over the rough bleak hill that wouldn't afford shelter for a rabbit, much less for a man, down the steep slope, through the running gutters of water. "Aye dear," said he, "I'm weshing my feet withaat taking my booits off." At the bottom of the hill, known as Stone's Wood Bottom, he was brought to a standstill. Along this bottom runs the river which takes the course of the valley through Berry Brow, before named; it was here spanned by a good strong bridge, having a wall on either side.

The water in the river had risen so high with the rainfall, that it ran right over the bridge at both ends, and threatened to carry it away; all the low ground about the bridge was under water to some depth, and hereby Abe was brought to a halt. His only way was over that bridge, and now that was not available. "Well," thought he, "I'm done this time; haa can I get over?" Further up and down the river was swollen, over its boundaries, and was out into the fields, while at the bridge it rushed along like a torrent. "Naa, Lord," Abe began, "Thaa knows where I'm plann'd to-day, and Thaa knows this is my only rooad to th'

place; that's Thy watter, and I'm Thy sarvant; I mun be over somehaa; tak' care o' my body while I try." And into the water he plunged, and made straight for the bridge. On reaching this he tucked his umbrella under one arm, and climbed up on the wall of the bridge, and scrambled across on his hands and knees, while the torrent rushed along underneath at a horse-pace. Had he fallen into the water he would probably have been found drowned on one of the banks down the river, but it was not permitted. "Bless the Lord," he exclaimed, when he was safe on the other side, "I'm over! Ah! but I'll do better nor that when I come to pa.s.s the swellings o' Jordan! Hallelujah! I'll go over Jordan withaat wetting a threead on me!"

So thou wilt, Abe. Jordan's waves could not harm a brave, G.o.d-fearing, and G.o.d-honouring man like thee; they know a true-born saint by the tramp of his foot in the darkest night of death, and on his approach, they fall back into line like Royal Guards when the king goes past.

"Though waves and storms go o'er my head, Though strength, and health, and friends be gone; Though joys be withered all and dead, Though every comfort be withdrawn; On this my steadfast soul relies, Father, Thy mercy never dies."

CHAPTER XIII.

Various Ways out of Difficulties.

Almost any one can get into trouble, but it is not always so easy for any one to get out again. Abe knew both ways,--the way in and the way out,--and many a time he had to run the gauntlet, and save himself as best he could.

There is an amusing story told of a little pa.s.sage which the Rev. P. J.

Wright once had with him. They met on a Sunday morning at the Honley railway station. Mr. Wright was at that time Superintendent of the Circuit, and was on his way to preach at Woodroyd, whilst Abe was going to Honley on a similar errand. After exchanging the ordinary salutations, the reverend gentleman said, "Well, Abe, what are you going to give them at Honley this morning?" On being informed of Abe's subject, he further inquired how he intended to treat it; whereupon his companion began to give an outline of his sermon. When he had finished, his interrogator rejoined, "Why, you are wrong, altogether, Abe, you must change the order of your divisions, and put the first last, and the last first; you have got the cart before the horse."

"Ne'er moind," said Abe, "I'll back her up th' hill. Good-morning, sir." "Cart before the horse" was no insuperable difficulty with Abe; he knew how to manage his own pony, and must drive in his own way; he was not very particular which came first so long as he could "mak' her goa." He took what suited his mind best, and paid very little attention to the rules of sermonizing; he was in this respect a law unto himself, and the favour with which his humble ministrations were received was a sufficient excuse for him.

We have heard a sermon described as a thing having three or more heads; it is said to be sometimes altogether void of body or matter of any sort; at other times it appears as a skeleton, without form or comeliness, having only the barest outline. Perhaps this in some measure explains why some people so seldom attend our places of worship; they fear to come _within the reach_ of a sermon, and therefore stay away,--they have heard of some persons that have been _actually struck_ with a sermon, and of others _being fastened to their seats_ by it; how dreadful! Ah, anything will do for an excuse when people don't want to go to the Lord's house; "a poor excuse is said to be better than none at all," but in this case we doubt the wisdom of that saying.

Abe Lockwood was not very particular about the number of heads in his sermons, or whether they had any heads at all; his care was that the sermon should have some soul in it, wherefrom mainly resulted his power in the pulpit.

There is sometimes very great danger of sermonizing all the force out of a discourse; making it so very proper that it serves more as an ornament than a thing of practical use; it appears more a work of _art_ than a work of _heart_. Abe didn't profess to understand the rules of sermonizing, nor did he make any particular effort in that direction; as may be supposed, therefore, he was often disconnected and irregular, but he knew nothing about it, and n.o.body else cared; people liked him as he was. His sentences were not like beautiful stones turned and polished by the hand of a lapidary, but they were rough lumps, in all shapes, broken from the great rock of Gospel truth, having their sharp points and jagged edges on them; the consequence being that when slung from the hand of this humble champion they left a mark wherever they struck. He didn't care for that round, smooth kind of preaching which always rolls off; he liked the word to strike, mark, and abide where it fell. He had no sympathy with high-flown sermons which shut out the Cross of Jesus and those good old Gospel truths a.s.sociated with that dear emblem of G.o.d's love to the world. If such a discourse were delivered in his hearing he was sure to say something about it.

"Praacher brought us a lot of b.u.t.terflies and fancy birds and let 'em fly abaat th' chapel, and while we wore starin' abaat after th' birds, we niver gat a soight o' th' Cross."

A young student from Ranmoor College came to preach at Berry Brow. Abe was in the vestry waiting to see him before he went into the pulpit.

He shook him warmly by the hand and blessed him, then added in his own droll but kind way, "Naa, my lad, don't let's hav' ony starry heavens t' day, tak' us t' th' Cross!" Had Abe known this young man he would also have known there was no need to exhort him to "tak' them t' th'

Cross." The fact was, Abe didn't want to follow any astronomical preacher all through the heavens, striding from star to star with scales in his hand trying their weight, sizes, and distances! "The Cross" was his watchword and rallying-point; there he loved to begin, and there he would always end. Christ the Redeemer was his star, and in the clear unclouded view of that Divine orb he was happy whoever was the preacher.

"PUCKER IT IN, LADS."

In his pulpit exercises Abe generally enjoyed great self-command, and things which would have disabled many a man in the same position, had little or no effect on him. This was not always the case, as we shall have occasion to show, but usually nothing disturbed the even balance of his mind. We have already seen how if a text "wouldn't goa," he could "swap" for another that would "goa." So if he failed to get hold of a thought which had been in his mind before, he did not trouble himself about the matter; he would just tell the people "he had forgotten th' next idea," and then pa.s.s on to something else.

His self-possession stood him in good stead one day, and helped to carry others through a trouble as well. He was in one of the country pulpits, and had just announced the second hymn, which was a long metre. The choir commenced to sing a common metre tune to the hymn, but before they had got through the second line they found out the mistake, and one after another dropped their voices and ceased to sing.

One tenacious brother, who did not like to be beaten, held on, and made a jumble of the words for a few moments, and then he stopped; whereupon Abe clapped his hands, and turning around to the choir, he exclaimed, "Ne'er moind, lads, pucker it in! pucker it in! Onybody can mak' a long metre tune goa to a long metre hymn, but yo' mun beat that," and then he joined heartily in the puckering exercise, and helped them through their trouble.

"BREAD OF LIFE FREE."

At another time he had been preaching about the Gospel being the bread of life for the world, and showing up its qualities and worth; especially did he dwell upon its freeness for all, that it could be had "without money and without price;" this was his last point, and he made much of it. Now it so happened that immediately on concluding his sermon he had to announce a collection. On sitting down in the pulpit while it was being made, the thought flashed into his mind that he had contradicted his own teachings by announcing that collection. He knew where the snare had come from, and at once in his own way broke it asunder. Rising again to his feet and bending over the pulpit front, he cast his eyes around the chapel as if trying to find someone. "I know that voice," he began, "it's the devil's." Every eye was on him in a moment. "What does thaa say?" "That I ha' not been spaking th'

truth, because I telled them th' bread of life wor free, and naa I'm asking th' people to pay for it. Thaa knaws as weall as I do th' bread is FREE, but we mun pay for th' baking. Mak' th' collection, friends, to pay for th' baking, and ne'er moind him." We need hardly say the people gave willingly to this collection, for they knew very well that though the Gospel was free to the whole world, expenses were incurred in carrying on G.o.d's work which they should help to disburse, so Abe got out of that difficulty.

"MY G.o.d SHALL SUPPLY ALL YOUR NEED."

The Wesleyan Superintendent Minister was planned to preach one week-night near Berry Brow, and on some account he could not attend. A subst.i.tute had to be found, and Abe was waited on during the day, to see if he would act in that capacity. "I'll try," he said, and accordingly when the time came he set out for the chapel. Some of the congregation knew who was to preach, others did not. At length the door opened, and in walked Abe, and made straight for the pulpit, clamp, clamp, with his wooden clogs on the floor and up the pulpit stairs. He began the service with the usual smile on his face; then he announced his text, "My G.o.d shall supply all your need," and closed the Bible as he always did as soon as the text was read. "Naa," said he, "I knaw some o' yo are disappointed at seeing me here instead of your praacher, but it was oather me or n.o.body. Naa, if th' travelling praacher had come to-noight, he moight easily ha' praached a much better sermon than I can, but I'll defy him or onybody else to foind a grander text than this; it's a raight un, and it's your own fault if you doan't get some good aat on't: if the Lord had thought you _needed_ it, He would have sent you somebody better than me, for He will supply all your need." The congregation saw at once the condition they would have been in if Abe had not come to their help. They smiled at his remarks, and from that moment forgot their disappointment, nor did they think of it again during all that service. Thus Abe's tact in managing people helped him happily through this difficulty, as it had through many others in his lifetime.

CHAPTER XIV.

Abe's t.i.tles and Troubles.

It is time we said something on this subject, as we are come to the stage in his life when he began to be known by various dignified ecclesiastical t.i.tles. He loved his own plain name, Abe Lockwood, better than any other, and therefore wanted no improvement. That was the name in the roll of the Church, and that was the name written in the Lamb's book of life; he wanted no other. If any one addressed him as Mr. Lockwood he would often break in, "They call me Abe Lockwood!"

and this was no pretended humility on his part, but the expression of a sincere preference for the name by which he had always been known among his friends: but the time came when it was impossible for him to resist the universal custom of saluting him by some t.i.tle, so he had to yield to the inevitable.

A story is told, how that on one occasion a parcel of clothes came to the house for his wife and children. It was wrapped in strong brown paper, and on the address-label was written "Abraham Lockwood, Esq."

Soon after this, he was taking part in a public meeting in the place from which the present was supposed to have come, and in his speech he thanked the unknown donor; and having done this, he proceeded to correct a mistake which, he said, had occurred; the person who sent him that parcel had addressed him as Esquire. "Naa," said he, "I doan't stand much upon t.i.tles, but if I am to have ony, I think I ought to have what falls to me by my birth. Yo' know, I'm a Prince of th' Royal Family, I'm a King's Son, my Father is th' King of Glory, and no man can say that, unless he is born of G.o.d, and I am, Hallelujah!"

Although there may not be anything original in this, yet the happy way in which he worked it into his speech, and the use he made of it to show the necessity of the new birth, was exceedingly pleasing.

The t.i.tle of "Bishop," or "Bishop of Berry Brow," was one of those by which he became familiarly known. This arose out of the position he held in the society there, almost like that of father among the members, and also from the amount of preaching he did all over the Circuit. Although this very reverend t.i.tle brought him no increase to his stipend, nor any change in his social standing, it helped to show the general feeling with which he was everywhere regarded.

But the designation by which he was most familiarly known was "LITTLE ABE." This came into every-day use, and was unconsciously adopted by almost every person either in speaking to him, or speaking of him.

Even the little children in the streets and in the Sunday Schools, hearing it from their elders, insensibly fell into the habit of styling him "Little Abe."

As this t.i.tle is somewhat expressive of size, it may be well to convey some idea of

ABE'S PERSONAL APPEARANCE