Little Abe
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F. Jewell >> Little Abe
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10 [Frontispiece: Abraham Lockwood.]
LITTLE ABE;
OR,
_THE BISHOP OF BERRY BROW_.
BEING THE LIFE OF
ABRAHAM LOCKWOOD,
_A Quaint and Popular Yorkshire Local Preacher
in the Methodist New Connexion._
BY
F. JEWELL.
TWENTY-SECOND THOUSAND.
London:
PUBLISHED FOR THE PROPRIETOR,
ROBERT CULLEY,
25-35 CITY ROAD, AND 26 PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.
Abraham Pilling, Esq.,
ASTLEY BRIDGE,
BOLTON,
I DEDICATE TO YOU THIS RECORD OF THE
LIFE AND LABOURS OF ONE WHOSE WORTH YOU KNEW
AND APPRECIATED, AS A
MARK OF ESTEEM FOR YOUR ZEALOUS EXERTIONS
TO
ADVANCE THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.
PREFACE.
I desire to express my thanks to all those friends who have kindly
assisted me in collecting materials for these pages; and I am
especially indebted to my friends the Rev. T. D. Crothers and the Rev.
W. J. Townsend for the cheerful services they have rendered me in
preparing the little work for printing.
Whilst trying to give a faithful account of the life and character of
Abraham Lockwood, I have done my best to make the narrative both
readable and profitable; but I am sensible that there are many faults
in the volume. Such as it is, however, I humbly offer it to the
public, with the earnest prayer that it may prove a blessing to many.
F. JEWELL.
BETHEL VILLA,
HULL, 1880.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
BIRTH AND PARENTAGE
CHAPTER II.
EARLY INCIDENTS
CHAPTER III.
HIS CONVERSION
CHAPTER IV.
ABE A NEW CHARACTER IN THE VILLAGE
CHAPTER V.
IN MEMBERSHIP WITH THE CHURCH
CHAPTER VI.
"FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE"
CHAPTER VII.
WIND AND TIDE AGAINST
CHAPTER VIII.
THE CLOUDS BEGIN TO BREAK
CHAPTER IX.
SALEM CHAPEL
CHAPTER X.
ABE BECOMES A LOCAL PREACHER
CHAPTER XI.
IN PRACTICE
CHAPTER XII.
"BUTTERFLY PREACHERS"
CHAPTER XIII.
VARIOUS WAYS OUT OF DIFFICULTIES
CHAPTER XIV.
ABE'S TITLES AND TROUBLES
CHAPTER XV.
A BASKET OF FRAGMENTS
CHAPTER XVI.
"I AM A WONDER UNTO MANY"
CHAPTER XVII.
ABE AS A CLASS LEADER
CHAPTER XVIII.
"WORKING OVERTIME"
CHAPTER XIX
METHODIST LOVEFEAST
CHAPTER XX.
PATIENT IN TRIBULATION
CHAPTER XXI.
"THE LIBERAL DEVISETH LIBERAL THINGS"
CHAPTER XXII.
USED UP
CHAPTER XXIII.
"BETTER IS THE END OF A THING THAN THE BEGINNING"
CHAPTER I.
Birth and Parentage.
Abraham Lockwood was born on the 3rd November, 1792. His birthplace,
also called Lockwood, is situated about a mile and half out of
Huddersfield.
It makes no pretensions to importance in any way. The only public
building which it boasts, is the Mechanics' Institute, a structure of
moderate size, yet substantially built. Its one main street is lined
with some very excellent shops, some of whose owners, report says, have
made a nice little competency there. It still boasts a toll-bar of its
own, which is guarded on either side by two white wooden posts, that
take the liberty of preventing all cattle, horses, and asses from
evading the gate, and of unceremoniously squeezing into the narrowest
limits every person who prefers pavement to the highroad. Lockwood is
also important enough to receive the attention of two or three 'buses
which ply to and fro between there and Huddersfield, as well as to have
the honour of a railway station on the L. and Y. line. Of course years
ago, when Abraham Lockwood was brought into the world, this locality
was not so attractive as it now is; only a few cottages straggled along
the level or up the hill towards Berry Brow, mostly inhabited by
weavers and others employed in the cloth manufacture of the
neighbourhood. Among these humble cottages there stood, on what is
known as the Scarr, one even more unpretentious than the rest: it
boasted only one story and two or three rooms in all; it was what Abe
used to call a "one-decker."
In this little hut dwelt the parents of Abe Lockwood; the fact of their
residing in such a humble home, shows sufficiently that they were poor,
perhaps poorer than their neighbours. However, in that same
single-storied cot in Lockwood, Abe Lockwood was born, a Lockwoodite by
double right, and though age has seriously told upon its appearance, it
stands to this day. We sometimes see little old men living on, and
year by year growing less and less, until we begin to speculate about
the probable time it will require at their rate of diminution for
nothing to remain of them; and the same may be said of the little old
house in which Abe Lockwood was born; it was always little, but as
years have slowly added to its age, it has gradually begun to look
less, and now, as other houses of larger size and more improved style
have sprung up all around the neighbourhood, it has shrunk into the
most diminutive little hut that can well be imagined as a dwelling
house, and it only requires time enough for it to be gone altogether.[1]
Abe's parents were a poor but honest pair, and laboured hard to make
ends meet. William Lockwood, his father, was a cloth-dresser, and
worked on Almondbury common, about a mile from his home, earning but a
scanty living for the family. In those days, when machinery was almost
unknown in the manufacture and finish of cloth, the men had to work
harder and longer and earned much less than now. Those were the times
when hard-working men thought that the introduction of machinery into
cloth mills would take all the work out of their hands, and all the
bread out of their mouths; and this was the very locality where the
greatest hostility was shown by the people to such innovations. Many a
threatened outbreak was heard of about that time, and in two or three
instances the smouldering fire in the men's minds actually burst forth
into riot and rising, when they found that the great masters were
determined to have their own way and introduce machinery into their
mills. Abe himself was led, some years after, to take part in one of
these risings, and narrowly escaped the hands of the law, while several
others were lodged for some time in York jail in recognition of the
part they had taken in the riots.
Abe's father was a quiet, moral-living man, whose chief aim for many
years seemed to be to provide for his own household; but in after times
his thoughts were drawn to things higher as well, and he became a
God-fearing man; yet during Abe's early life, the most that can be said
for his father is that he was an honest, hard-working, and
well-disposed man.
His mother was a good Christian woman, and was for a long time a member
with the Methodists in Huddersfield, and attended the old chapel which
formerly stood on Chapel Hill. There is no doubt that the early
teaching of his kind and pious mother had a great deal to do with the
formation of Abe's Christian character in after years. Certainly a
long time elapsed before there was any sign of spiritual life in her
son; indeed, she was called away to her eternal rest before there was
any indication of good in his heart; what matters that? the good seed
was there; it would bide its time and then grow all the stronger.
Sometimes people conclude that because there is not immediate growth
there is no life; this does not follow; the grain may slumber for
years, then wake up and grow rapidly. I on one occasion saved some
orange pippins, dried and planted them with the hope that they might
grow; as time went on, I watered and watched them, but there was no
indication of growth; months went by: I lost heart, gave over watering,
threw the plant-pot in which they were sown out of doors; a year was
gone by and more, when one day my eye fell on this same pot all covered
with green growth. "Hey! what's this?" why, positively, they are young
orange plants, standing up hardy and healthy, protesting against my
want of faith and patience. It is often the same with the growth of
other seed in the human breast; when parents have waited long in vain,
their faith grows gradually less and less, until it dies out in
despair; but the good seed may not die, it is sleeping, it lives its
winter life, and then under the tender and genial touch of some
spring-like influences it begins to grow. "Be not afraid, only
believe," said the Master of the vineyard.
Why the young baby that had come to reside in that little cot should
have the honourable name of Abraham may be a subject of question by
some. It evidently was not to perpetuate his father's name, though
from the beginning of generations this has been a sufficient argument
for calling son after father; on that ground John Baptist had a narrow
escape from being called Zacharias. That however could not influence
the decision in Abraham Lockwood's case, because his father's name was
William. Perhaps it was that the child indicated a patriarchal spirit,
and conducted himself like a _stranger in a strange land_, in which
case there might be a suggestion of that name. Perhaps it was a piece
of parental forethought, for knowing well that they could never confer
riches upon him, or place him in a position to make them himself, they
determined to do that for him, which everyone must say is far better,
they would see to it that he had a _good name_ among men, and so they
called him Abraham. This ancient and venerable name, however, soon
underwent a transformation, and appeared in the undignified form of
"Abe." The alteration at least exhibited a mark of economy, even if it
involved the sacrifice of good taste; there certainly was a saving of
time in saying "Abe" instead of "Abraham," which is very important when
things have to be done in a hurry; and then it may be that to some ears
it would sound more musical and familiar than the full-length
designation. Howbeit, there always seemed a strange contrariness
between Abe and his name. When he was a baby they called him by the
antiquated name of "Abraham." As he grew older and bigger, they
shortened his name to "Abe," and when he was a full-grown man, and
father of a family, he was commonly known as "Little Abe." The name
and the bearer seemed to have started to run a circle in contrary
directions, till they met exactly at the opposite point in old age,
when for the first time there was seen the fitness between the man and
his name, and he was respectfully called "Abraham Lockwood."
[1] Since the above was written, this little cottage has been removed
to afford room for a larger building.
CHAPTER II.
Early Incidents.
Nothing particular is reported of his early life in that little home;
there are no accounts of any hair-breadth escapes from being run over
by cart-wheels, or of his being nearly burnt to death while playing
with the kitchen fire, or of his straying away from home and taking to
the adjacent woods, and the whole neighbourhood being out in quest of
him, or that he even, during this interesting period of his history,
either fell headlong into a coal-pit, or wandered out of his depth in
the canal near by; there is, however, every probability, considering
his lively disposition, that his mother had her time pretty well
occupied in keeping him within bounds.
On reaching the notable age of six years, a very important change came
over the even course of his young life. His parents sent him to work
in a coal-pit; people in these days will scarcely credit such a thing,
but it is nevertheless true; nor was this an extraordinary case, for
children of poor parents were commonly sent to work in the pits at that
early age, when Abe was a child. The work which they did was not
difficult; perhaps it might be the opening or shutting of a door in one
of the drifts; but whatever it was our hearts revolt at the idea of
sending a child of such tender years into a coal mine, and thanks to
the advance of civilization, and an improved legislation on these
things, such an enormity would not now be permitted.
In some dark corner of that deep mine poor little Abe was found day by
day doing the work assigned to him, and earning a trifle of wages which
helped to keep bread in the little home at Lockwood Scarr. He went out
early in the morning, and came home late at night, with the men who
wrought in the same pit, his little hands and feet often benumbed with
cold and wet, and he so tired with his toils that many a time his poor
mother has had to lift him out of bed of a morning, and put his little
grimy suit of clothes on him, and send him off with the rest almost
before the child was awake. Many a time he was so weary on coming out
of the pit that he has not been able to drag himself along home, and
some kind collier seeing his tears has lifted him on his shoulder and
carried him, while he has slept there as soundly as if on a bed of down.
Some few years passed on, during which time Abe continued to work in
the coal pit with but little change, except that as he grew older and
stronger he was put to other work, and earned a better wage. His
parents, however, were not satisfied that their son should live and die
a collier, they thought him capable of something else; besides that,
there were always the dangers associated with that calling in which so
many were maimed or killed. They therefore determined that their son
should be a mechanic, and learn to earn his bread above ground. After
a while they found a master who was willing to take him into his employ
and teach him his handicraft. It was customary in those days for a
master to take the apprentice to live with him in his house, and find
him in food and clothes. So Abe was given over to his new master, with
the hope that he would do well for him, and the boy would turn out a
good servant.
Now it is quite possible all this was done by the kind parents without
consulting Abe's mind on the subject, which certainly had a good deal
to do with the realization of their hopes, more perhaps than they
thought; however they soon discovered it, for in a day or two Abe
returned home with the information that he didn't like it, and should
not be bound to any man. It was a sad disappointment to the honest
pair, who had begun to indulge in expectations that some time "aar Abe
may be mester hissen;" they however saw that it was of no use pressing
him to go back, and so they compromised the matter by setting about to
find him another master. Abe was again despatched from home with many
a kind word of advice, and the hope that he would mind his work, learn
the trade, and turn out to be a good man. But what was their surprise
and pain at the end of about a week to see Abe walk into the house
again with a bundle in his hand. "Oh, Abe, my lad, what's brought thee
here so sooin? what's ta gotton in th' bundle?" exclaimed his mother.
"Why, gotton my things to be sure; I couldn't leave them behind when
I'm going back no maar;" and sure enough he had come home with the
information as before, he didn't like being bound to any man.
The probability is that there was something in the kind of treatment
Abe met with in both those cases that helped to set his mind so much
against the life of an apprentice away from home. All masters in those
days were not particularly kind in their manners towards apprentices:
some honourable exceptions could easily be found no doubt, but as a
rule, boys in such positions were not very kindly used; hard work from
early morning to late at night, hard fare at meal times, hard cuffs
between meals, and a hard bed with scanty covering at nights,--it was
no very enviable position for a youth to occupy, and certainly not one
to which a spirited lad would quietly submit. It may be that Abe,
during the short probations he had served at these two places, had
learnt too much of the ways of the establishments for so young a
hireling, and found they would not suit his peculiar tastes, and
therefore he decided twice over to return home, bringing his bundle of
clothes without giving any explanations or notice to any one.
Be that as it may, here he was at home again a second time, much to the
annoyance of his father, who was bent upon the lad learning some
handicraft. Abe remained at home a short time, when one day his father
told him he had got another place for him, with an excellent man, who
would take him a little while on trial, and if they liked each other he
might then be indentured. His father had been at some trouble to find
a master farther away from home, in the hope that when once Abe was a
good way off he might be induced to stay; in this he was acting on the
principle that the power of attraction is weakened by a wider radius,
which may be correct when applied to some things, but not to all. This
new master lived in Lancashire, and thither young Abraham was sent in
due course. A month or so passed away, and all seemed to promise a
satisfactory arrangement, until one morning Abe heard a conversation in
the family, from which he gathered that his master was going to
Marsden, where he expected to meet Mr. Lockwood at a certain inn, and
make final arrangements for Abe's apprenticeship. This opened the old
sore; Abe couldn't rest: "he wouldn't stay, that he wouldn't, he would
be off home;" but how was he to get there? he didn't know the way, and
thirty miles or more was a long journey in those days. He determined
therefore to keep his eye on his master until he saw him off for
Marsden, which was more than half the distance to his home, and then he
set away after him on the same road, never losing sight of him for one
minute. On they went mile after mile along the roads until they
reached Marsden, where he saw his master enter the inn. Now Abe had to
pass in front of this very house, but he didn't want to be discovered,
so he adroitly turned up his coat collar over the side of his face, and
pulled down his cap, and set off running as fast as he could, and just
as he was passing the inn he took one hurried look from under his mask,
and there, in the open window, he saw two men side by side, his master
and his father. Of course he concluded they must have seen him, and
would be out immediately to fetch him back; this idea only lent speed
to his weary feet, so that he ran faster than ever on through the
solitary street of the old village, away out on the road, never turning
to look behind, lest he might see all Marsden coming in pursuit of him.
Exhausted nature however at length compelled him to slacken his pace,
and on turning to look back he found he had only been pursued by his
own fears. The two men sat still in the inn, talking over and settling
the terms of the apprenticeship, fixing the time when the indenture
should be signed and the boy bound to his new master. Each of them
took his journey homeward; neither of them was prepared for what
awaited him. One of them found on arriving home that Abe had gone, and
the other discovered the very opposite, that he had come, and both were
alike vexed.
It is likely that poor Abe would have had to trot back again the next
day if his mother had not taken his part. Dear woman, she had been a
whole month without seeing her boy, and many an anxious thought had she
about him during that period; many a time when her fond heart yearned
for him, she had well nigh said she wished they had never sent him
away; many a time when some foot had been heard at the door her heart
stopped at the thought, that it might be him; and now that he had come,
really come, had run so far to be near her, had come so weary,
footsore, and hungry, had laid his weary head on the end of the table
and wept tears of trouble and pleasure, had fallen asleep there as he
sat, she put her kind arms around him, kissed his hot forehead and
said, "Dear lad, they shall not take him away from his mother any more
for all the masters and trades in the land." So it was of no use that
Mr. Lockwood should argue for his going back; he had to yield
inevitably, for what man can think to contend long against his _better_
half? From that time all attempt to bring Abraham up as an artificer
ended, and he found employment with his father as a cloth-finisher, at
which he worked most of his lifetime afterwards.
Soon after these stirring little events had gone by, another happened
in that household which brought far more pain and anxiety than anything
that had preceded it. The youth who would not be parted from his
mother, could not prevent his mother from leaving him, and the
separation took place; death stept in, and without regard to the fond
feelings which bound that little household together, bore away the wife
and mother to the spirit land, while her body was laid among the dust
of others in the yard of the old brick chapel in Chapel Hill,
Huddersfield.
What a gap it made in that house! in the hearts of its inmates it left
an open wound which only long months of patient endurance could heal.
When a mother's dust is carried out and laid in the grave, it is the
light of the domestic hearth gone out; it is the sweetest string gone
from the family harp; that bereavement is like the breath of winter
among tender flowers; the live tree around which entwined tender
creepers is torn up, and they lie entangled on the ground, disconsolate
and helpless, until the Great Father of us all shall give them strength
to stand alone.
Abraham Lockwood's mother was dead, and a kind restraining hand, which
many a time kept his wild and wayward spirit in subjection, was thereby
withdrawn, and the ill effects in time began to show themselves in his
conduct. As he grew older, and the trouble consequent on the loss of
his mother wore off, Abe gradually associated with evil companions,
fell into their habits, until he became a wild and wicked young man.
He never sank into those low habits of which some are guilty, who
neglect the appearance and cleanliness of their own person, and go
about on Sundays and weekdays unwashed and in their working attire.
Abe had more respect for himself, and was always looked upon among his
friends as a dandy. I have heard old people say he was a proud young
man, and withal of a very sprightly appearance.
Abe took great pride in his personal appearance, and when not in his
working clothes he usually wore a blue coat in the old dress style,
such as "Father Taylor" would call "a gaf-topsail jacket." There were
the usual and attractive brass buttons to the coat, drab knee-breeches,
blue stockings, low tied shoes with buckles; and really everyone who
knew Abe thought he was a proud young man. Perhaps he was, but it is
not always an indication of pride when young people bestow more care
upon their appearance than do their fellows; it may arise from a desire
to appear respectable and be respected. No one will think I am trying
to extenuate the foolish and extravagant love of dress which some
people show, who adorn themselves in silks or broadcloth, for which
they have to go into debt without the means of paying. Some are most
unsparing in the way they lavish money on their own persons, but only
ask them to bestow something on a charitable institution, or on the
cause of God, and how poor they are; how careful not to be guilty of
the sin of _extravagance_; how anxious not to be _generous before being
just_.
There is a propriety which ought to be observed with regard to dress as
well as other things, and it will commend itself to the judgment as
well as to the eye. Some young people are the very opposite to Abe;
they bestow scanty attentions on their appearance,--how can they think
that any one else will pay them any regard? Their appearance is like
the index to a book; you see in a minute what the work contains, and so
you may generally form a correct idea of the character of an individual
by his habitual personal appearance. "Character shows through," is a
good saying, and would make a profitable study for most of us; it shows
through the skin, the dress, the manners, the speech, through
everything; people ought to remember this, and it would have a good
influence on their conduct.
A few years after his mother's death his father married again, and
removed about a mile further up the hill, to a place called Berry Brow.
This village is situated about two miles out of Huddersfield, and is
the notable place where "little Abe" spent the greater part of his
days. It stands on the brow of a hill which bounds one side of the
wealthy and picturesque valley that winds along from Huddersfield to
Penistone. It boasts one main street, which sidles along down the
hill-side with here and there a clever curve, just enough to prevent
you from taking a full-length view of the street; on and down it goes,
the houses on the one side looking down on those opposite, and
evidently having the advantages of being higher up in the world than
their neighbours, until it terminates in the highroad leading out of
the village towards Honley and Penistone.
Run your eye down over the breast of the hill, and you have a
delightful landscape picture, comprising almost everything which an
artist would deem desirable for an effective painting, and a _little to
spare_. There, nearly at the bottom of the gradient, stands the
handsome old village church, with its tower and pinnacles, reaching up
among the tall trees; and around it, a consecrated enclosure, guarding
the monuments of the dead, which are mingled with melancholy shrubs,
planted there by hands of mourners whose memories of the departed are
fitly symbolized by those perpetual evergreens. On this side and
beyond the sleeping graveyard, on either arm, are scattered, in pretty
confusion, the houses of those who have retired from the main street
for the sake of a little garden plot or other convenience. Now there
is some pretence at a terrace, numbering two or three dwellings; then
an abrupt break, and houses stand independent and alone as if quietly
contemplating the lovely scenery of valley, hill, and forest, which are
visible from that spot. Down there in the bottom of the valley, stand
those mighty many-windowed cloth mills, whose great flat, unspeakable
faces, seem to be covered all over with spectacles, out of which they
can look for ever without winking; there the men, women, and children,
born and bred in the hills, find honest toil with which to win bread
and comforts; while with a twisting course there runs along the wealthy
dale a little river, from which these giant mills suck up their daily
drink. Across the narrow valley and you are into a dense woody growth,
which climbs the hills to their very crown, and sweeps away, mingling
with the sky.
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