Little Abe

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And he did go, and he got employment in one of the coal-pits in the
neighbourhood, where he received so much per week as wages, and a lump
of coal every day as large as he could carry home, as a perquisite. Of
course he took as big a lump as he could manage, and sometimes he was
tempted to overtax his strength. Many a time poor Abe had to stop on
the way home, lift the coal down from his head, where he usually
carried it, and rub the sore place; and many an expedient, in the way
of padding, had he to resort to, in order to compensate for the soft
place which nature, so prodigal in her gifts to some, had denied him.
However, day after day he struggled along under his dark and heavy
load, each day finding himself oppressed by another weight--of coals.

The new work was hard and trying to him, but he kept toiling on, and
patiently waiting for the time when his heavenly Father would open up
another sphere for him; meanwhile there was this consolation, that his
toils kept fire in the hearth, and bread in the cupboard at home, and
knowing this he was happy. He didn't envy any man his wealth, or his
ease; he many a time on his way home, with the lump of coal on his
head, was happier than the rich employer who passed him in his
carriage; he had no ambitious schemes with which to harass his mind,
his highest object was to glorify God in a consistent Christian life,
and try to lead others to do the same. When his day's work was ended,
he could lift his burden on his head, and journey homeward with a light
heart; the only weight he felt was upon his head; many a day he came
over the ground singing, certainly _under a difficulty_, but no matter,
he did sing. Abe was an alto singer in the chapel choir, but in these
homeward songs one would almost fancy he would have to take another
part, as the lump on his head would render it rather inconvenient for
him to reach the higher notes; ground-bass would be more in keeping
with his circumstances, and probably he himself was more inclined to
sink than soar; be that as it may, he sang and trudged along home, and
any one that met him, might know he was happy as a king, aye, and
happier than many.

CHAPTER VIII.

The Clouds begin to Break.

Abe had not long laboured in the coal-pit before all about him began to
feel he was a good man. He did not hide his light from anyone, masters
or men, and though they may not have followed his godly example and
Christian counsel, they all respected him for his pious and consistent
life among them.

It so turned out that one day the foreman ordered all the men to stay
and work overtime at night, in order to complete some important matter
which they had in hand. This was a terrible blow to Abe, for it was
his class-night, and he had never yet missed that means of grace, nor
would he, if he could by any possibility get there; but now, what was
he to do? He felt it was his duty to obey his master, and take his
share of the extra work if required; on the other hand, his heart
yearned for the fellowship of saints: how dear that little classroom
seemed to him then. All the day his mind dwelt upon the subject; he
fancied his own accustomed seat empty, and his leader and classmates
wondering why he was not there; he prayed earnestly for deliverance
from this snare, and yet saw no way of escape. Evening came, and the
usual hour for leaving work, but no bell rang the men out; on they all
went at their task, and Abe along with the rest, yet all the time he
was groaning in spirit; half an hour passed away, when the foreman came
in. He was a hard, resolute man, that seemed to have neither fear of
God nor devil before his eyes. "Abe Lockwood," said he, "isn't this
thy class noight?" Abe looked up in an instant, and replied, "It is."
"Drop thee wark this minute and go then; if I'm going to hell, I won't
hinder another man from trying to get to a better place," and before
Abe could find time to thank him, he was gone again. In a twinkling
Abe was out of the place, and away over Almondbury common, like a fleet
hound just slipt from the leash. He went to his class-meeting and was
very happy there, but he did not forget in his own happiness to pray
for the man who in this instance had bowed to the better spirit within
him, and shown him such a mark of favour.

There is a heart in every man, however hard he may be, and when once
the Spirit of God assails that heart, He may break it, or at least
reason it into submission. We don't know all the power that God has,
nor the many ways in which He can exert that power on the minds of men;
we often hinder its operation by our want of faith. O Lord, increase
our faith! Then "all things are possible to him that believeth."

For some time Abe continued working at the coal-pit. Although he made
no complaints, he greatly disliked the employment, and looked forward
with intense longing to the time when he could again return to his own
calling. He told the Lord all his heart upon this subject, and often
implored Him to lift him out of the pit and bring him again to the
employment that was more congenial to his feelings. Nor did he pray in
vain, as the following incident will show:--One day a gentleman came to
the pit, and said, "Have you got a man here called Abe Lockwood?" On
being answered in the affirmative, he expressed a wish to see him. Abe
was at once communicated with, and fetched out of the place where he
was working. On seeing him all begrimed with coal-dust, the gentleman
said, "I'm sorry to see thee like this, Abe; I have been troubled about
thee for some time."

"Have you, haa's that, maaster?"

"Why, I hardly know, but I have felt for many a day that I ought to
come and offer thee work in my place, and now I've come, and if thou
wants to leave here, I will find thee something to do in my mill."

Abe's grateful heart was almost in his throat; his eyes swam in tears,
his face beamed with smiles, and he shouted, "Hallelujah! When mun I
come?"

"Come at once if you can."

"All roight," said he, "I can leave here ony time. I'll come i' th'
morning; bless th' Lord! I knew my Father would foind me another job
somewhere."

That night he went home singing with the usual lump of coal on his
head. When he got into the house he threw it down with a crash that
startled Sally, his wife. "There," he said, playfully pretending to be
vexed, "I'll fetch thee na moor coils on my yead, so thaa needn't
expect it."

"What's matter wi' the' naa?" she said, looking at him.

"I tell the' I'll fetch the' na maar coils," he responded, rubbing his
scalp as if it hurt him.

"Well then, we may as weel let t' fire goa aat first as last," rejoined
the good wife, a little ruffled.

"Noa thaa shalln't. I loike a gooid foire as weel as onybody; and if
thaa grumbles ony maar, I weant go to th' pit agean."

Sally looked hard at him for a moment or two, and in spite of the thick
layer of coal-dust on his face, she could see there was a smile just
underneath struggling to burst through. "What dost ta mean?" she said,
half laughing herself.

"Mean!" exclaimed Abe, jumping from his seat, and seizing hold of her
hand, "Mean! Why, I mean that I've done with coil-pit; the Lord has
gotten me a job in Huddersfield at my own wark, and I'm goin' in th'
morning, bless th' Lord!"

Sally smiled, wiped her eyes, and said quietly, "Well I niver; aye, but
I am glad; come and get thee teaa, my old collier." And that night
there was sunshine in Abe's cottage hours after the great orb of day
had gone down and left the world in darkness.

CHAPTER IX.

Salem Chapel.

Close to the entrance of the village, at the top of the main street,
and within five minutes' walk of the railway station, stands the
Methodist New Connexion Chapel of Berry Brow. It is situated on the
right-hand side of the street coming from Huddersfield; being on lower
ground than the road, it has from this point a stunted appearance.
Pursuing the decline and curve of the street a little further brings
you to the vertex of a triangle of level ground, on the base of which
the chapel stands. It is fronted by a graveyard, whose two sides
gradually converge towards a little iron gateway at the entrance.

Seen from here the chapel presents a more pleasing appearance, though
even now an observer could not fail to be struck with the dwarfish look
of the building; there is a want of height to give it proper
proportion. It shows a plain stone front, which suggests that the good
people who built it had no money to spend in costly ornamentation.
SALEM, the honoured name of the chapel, is inscribed on the front. The
Sunday-school, which is of more recent date, stands adjoining it on the
left; the foreground treasures up the dust of many pious pilgrims who,
in the days gone by, came to this house of peace. The chapel has two
doors in the front; inside, the appearance is exceedingly plain; the
pulpit is stationed with its back against the front wall, and is
enclosed by a pew that was formerly occupied by the choir, but now
mostly by the speakers at the public meetings, for, being somewhat
elevated, it serves as a permanent platform. The plan of the sittings
is a simple rising gallery, springing from the floor half-way to the
ceiling, and traversed by two aisles leading direct from either
doorway; in a recess abutting through the right-hand wall, the organ is
fixed. The chapel is capable of accommodating about three hundred
persons, though there have been times when, somewhere or other, it has
afforded room to much larger numbers of people that have crushed within
its limited space. Altogether, it is a plain, unpretentious structure,
by no means equal to the growing requirements of the prosperous Church
that worships there in these days.

Salem Chapel, like many other places of worship, has its story, full of
sacred incident and interest. It has been the religious birthplace of
hundreds of precious souls, many of whom are now in glory, while others
are journeying thitherward. Many of the ablest ministers the Methodist
New Connexion has ever had, have counted it a joy to preach in that old
sanctuary.

Several revivals of the work of God have broken out within those walls,
and spread with such rapidity and power through the neighbourhood, that
Satan's strongholds have trembled before them; and in the great day of
the Lord it will be said of Salem, "This and that man were born there."

But before it was built the people used to attend the High Street
Chapel, Huddersfield, which involved a walk of over two miles each way,
and this in unfavourable weather was no light task. The time came,
however, when they began seriously to entertain the idea of having a
place of worship in their own village.

Abe Lockwood was among the chief advocates of this scheme, and it was
mainly owing to his activity in the matter that the undertaking was at
length commenced and completed. In the month of July 1823, Abe, full
of the new Chapel enterprize, entered a harvest field belonging to Mr.
S---- of Armitage Fold, where several members of the Society were at
work, and took upon himself to announce that there would be a meeting
in a certain house that night, for the purpose of considering whether
they were to have a Chapel in Berry Brow. The meeting was held, and
the decision taken in favour of the movement. They would arise and
build, so in God's name they began the work.

It was a serious undertaking for them, as most of the members were poor
working people, but they were in earnest, and at once opened a
subscription list, each of them promising something to the fund before
they went outside to solicit help from any one else. They then
obtained further promises from others, and arranged to gather the money
by weekly instalments, some being as little as a penny. Then, in order
to save cost as much as possible, the men themselves went and delved in
the quarry for stones, and borrowed horses and carts of the farmers to
remove the material to the chapel site, and when it sometimes happened
that they could not obtain the use of horses, they got the loan of
carts, and the men, old and young, took the horse-work themselves, and
drew the stones to the building place.

In all this Abe was a foremost worker, toiling early and late, and
asking any one and every one to come to their help, by which means they
got many of the wild young men of the village to assist in the work.
This did not, however, meet with universal approval; there were some
few very good people, who mostly employed themselves in looking on,
giving directions, and finding fault, who said it was not right to
bring a lot of ungodly young men into a work so sacred; they
expostulated with Abe on the subject, he being the chief cause of their
enlistment, but he replied, "Not roight for them to help in building
th' Lord's haase! It must be roight; if they soil th' stones with
their fingers, God will put them roight again when He gets into it. I
wouldn't care if th' devil hissen were to come and drag stones for th'
place, if only Jesus is preached in it afterwards;" so the croakers
didn't gain anything by their complaints, except rejoinders from Abe,
which taught them a little good sense, and they went on with the
building.

The foundation stone was laid on Shrove Tuesday 1824, and the chapel
was opened for religious services on Good Friday 1825. The Rev. Thomas
Allin preached on that occasion with his usual extraordinary ability.
From that time until now the cause has never looked back, but has
maintained a steady onward course. Seasons of trial and depression
have occasionally gathered over it like dark clouds, but the earnest
band of Christian people it has drawn together, have been conducted
under the clouds in safety, and have lived to come out again into the
sunshine of prosperity.

There is not a trouble or a joy, not a throb of sorrow or a thrill of
delight that ever came to that church during those years, which Abe
Lockwood did not feel. He was so mixed and wrapt up in its history and
workings that he counted its very pulsations as distinctly as he felt
his own. In later years, when other labourers were brought into the
church, and his services as a local preacher came into greater demand,
many of the duties involved in conducting the cause fell into other
hands; but Abe's love for Salem never did and never could diminish; to
him it was the most beautiful sanctuary in the Circuit or out of it;
and there it stands as a monument of the zeal and devotion of those
earnest men who more than fifty years ago laid its foundations, and
reared its sacred walls in the name of the Lord.

They are nearly all gone to their reward, Abe among them, but in no
sense more than this is the Scripture fulfilled, "He being dead yet
speaketh."

CHAPTER X.

Abe becomes a Local Preacher.

Several years had passed away from the date of Abe's marriage, and a
family of young children had sprung up around him, filling his cottage
with life, and keeping him and his active wife constantly employed to
supply their daily necessities. Hard times they had during those
years, but they held on their honest way, content with what they got,
and envying no one that was in better circumstances than themselves.

During all these years Abe continued a devoted follower of Christ; he
was always at the means of grace, and his chief aim was to be a true
disciple of the cross. At the same time he was slowly acquiring
ability to speak in the meetings with more propriety and effect.

Methodist prayer-meetings and class-meetings are excellent training
schools for public speakers. Most of the best ministers in Methodism
first learnt to talk in these little meetings, where they have had,
week by week, opportunities of expressing their thoughts and feelings
upon their religious life and experience; and although there are some
who have profited but very little by the benefits afforded in this way,
there are many others who have made their way from that humble
beginning up to the highest ranks of the Christian ministry.

In this training institution Abe slowly and steadily improved his
powers, till some of his friends began to think he ought to have his
name placed on the Circuit plan as an exhorter. It was accordingly
mentioned to him, but for some time met with no very favourable
response from Abe. "Come on t' plan," exclaimed he; "nay, not soa,
unless you want to mak' a clerk o' me; but I can say Amen, without
being planned."

However, circumstances sometimes happen which have more force of
argument in them than anything that men can say. It occasionally
transpired, that some local preacher who was planned to preach in Salem
Chapel did not come to his appointment, and some person in the
congregation had to take the vacant place, and conduct the service as
well as he might be able without any previous preparation. Now it
appears that Abe found himself placed just in this very unenviable
position. The congregation were all in the chapel; the hour of service
had come, and passed, yet no preacher arrived; the people were
whispering and looking at the clock; one brother went to the door to
see if there were any sign of the preacher's coming; two or three of
the leading brethren were whispering together, and then one of them
came over to Abe and said, "I'm afraid there's going to be no preacher,
thou'll be like to try and talk a bit this morning."

"Me, noa, I canna praach, mun," said Abe, evidently agitated.

"Aye, but thou can; thou'll have to try, and we'll pray for thee."

Abe turned pale, looked up at the little pulpit, then down on the
ground, and then said, "I've now't to talk abaat, noa, I canna tak'
it." Then another brother came and united his persuasion to that of
the man already with him, and at length Abe arose and went into the
singing pew in front of the pulpit, pale and trembling, and announced a
hymn. The service began, and grew into a kind of compromise between a
prayer meeting and preaching. The preacher took a text, and in his own
style did his best to speak from the words,--the probability is he _did
speak from them_, further from them than critical hearers would judge
proper, but what of that? He did his best, and there were none in the
congregation but knew him and knew his consistent life; and although
what he said was very unpreaching-like, it did not matter; the people
were well pleased, and Abe was very glad when it was over.

After the first time this occurred again and again in Salem, until Abe
began to be looked upon as the general stop-gap, as they called him.
But he was not to occupy that post always; it was only the
stepping-stone to something else, for by-and-bye some of the local
preachers would take him out with them to their appointments, and let
him talk to the people as well as he was able. Wherever he went they
said he must be sure and come again; he was so quaint, droll, plain,
yet withal so fervent, that everyone enjoyed his remarks, and wished to
hear him again.

About the year 1833, and during the ministry of the Revs. J. Curtis and
G. Bradshaw in the Huddersfield Circuit, an incident took place which
will give an idea of the style of Abe's early preaching efforts. It
was on one Shrove Tuesday afternoon that he had to preach at
Paddock;--the service was at that time conducted in a cottage;--a good
deal of talk had been indulged in by the people in anticipation of
Abe's visit, and a great amount of curiosity and interest was excited.
The place was full. Abe arrived, rubbing his hands, and blessing the
Lord, and immediately took his place, and commenced the service. His
prayer was like himself, rough and earnest; Divine power came down upon
the little company, and tears of joy ran from all eyes. He selected a
lesson with which he was familiar, and managed the reading very
creditably. Abe then took his text, the subject being Abraham offering
up his son Isaac on Mount Moriah. Just at that moment the Rev. J.
Curtis came into the service. Now the unexpected appearance of the
Superintendent Minister, under circumstances like those, would have
unnerved most young preachers, but it had no such effect on Abe; he no
sooner set his eyes on him, than he said, "Naa thaa sees I'm at it,
we're just baan off to Mount Moriah, and thaa mun goa too," and off he
went in a style peculiarly his own.

He drew some very amusing pictures of the patriarch, his son, and the
young men preparing for the journey; he had Abraham ordering the
servant men to do this, fetch that, undo something else; he had a deal
of trouble in saddling the asses, those animals exhibiting the
obstinate tendencies for which their descendants are even yet so
renowned; all was at length ready, Abraham and his attendants were
mounted and setting off, when the door was again opened, and in walked
the Rev. G. Bradshaw, the young minister. At sight of him Abe shouted,
"Aye, lad, thaa art baan to be too late, we've gotten th' mules saddled
and had a'most gone withaat thee, but niver moind, thaa mun catch a
mule for theesen, and come on behind." So away they went, Abe taking
the lead, and the people mentally following.

He preached them such a sermon as they had never heard in their
lives--nor anybody else. Now they laughed at his odd sayings and
grotesque pictures, and then with melting feelings they praised God as
they listened to some of the simple yet truly beautiful sayings which
fell from his lips. As a sermon, there was enough to find fault with,
for he knew nothing about the art of sermonizing, and cared as little;
but it was so full of homely truth and spiritual feeling, that every
one, ministers not excepted, forgave the faults, and said it was a
means of grace.

In this way Abe continued for some time, occasionally preaching without
being officially recognized, but at length his name was placed on the
plan as a local preacher on trial. When the term of his probation was
almost expired, Abe was required to preach one week-night in High
Street Chapel, Huddersfield.

HIS TRIAL SERMON.

It was a terrible trial for him, which appears strange, considering how
easy he felt when the Circuit ministers heard him in the little room at
Paddock, yet so it was; and as the time came on, Abe thought he never
could show his face in High Street. Had it been anywhere else he would
not have cared, but he had a dread of the Circuit Chapel. He had gone
to several of the country places during the year, and sometimes did
very well; but then, he felt at home among the plain village people;
they could understand his broad vernacular, and make allowance for his
blunders, which he knew were not a few, but in High Street everything
was different. He thought they could not exercise the same forbearance
towards him, and so he shrank from the task.

But then he remembered it was not a place of his own seeking; that it
was a trial which other plain men had undergone before him, and would
do again, and he could not expect more favour than his brethren; so he
must go and do his best, trusting in the Lord for help. And that
evening Sally brushed him up, and had his clogs polished, and away he
went to Huddersfield. There was a good congregation to hear him, and
among others several local preachers. Abe was very nervous, and
everything around conspired to make him so. He was in High Street
Chapel, awful; he had to preach, worse; to preach a trial sermon, worse
than ever; before all these grand folks, and in the presence of the
Superintendent, it was blinding, sickening, confounding. He started at
the sound of his own voice, and when he tried to speak, he somehow said
just what he didn't intend, and made more mistakes than he had either
time or sense to rectify; then, whenever he moved his feet, his clogs
clamped on the floor in such a way as he had never heard them anywhere
else; he was in a fever of excitement and fear. However, he had to
preach; so having announced his text, he commenced his sermon, but it
was evidently hard for him to say anything; he tried and tried, rolled
his eyes up and all around, clasped his hands, uttered a few sentences,
scratched his head, and exclaimed, "Friends, I'm plogged" (meaning he
could not go on), "she weant goa; if this is preaching trial sermon,
I'll niver try another; we'll be like to swap texts" (try another
text). Now while he was finding another text, the congregation sang a
hymn, and by the time this was done, Abe was ready with his text, which
he announced and again started to speak, but with no greater success,
for it seemed as if all his ideas were gone wool-gathering. He
coughed, stammered, and sweat at every pore, but brought forth nothing
else; an encouraging word or two from one of the brethren was very
welcome at that moment, for looking towards him, Abe said, "She weant
goa, but we'll try another."

Twice breaking down in one service would have satisfied any ordinary
man in his circumstances, and so daunted many as that they would never
have been heard of again; but Abe was no ordinary man, and was not soon
killed; he had come there to try to preach, and it was evident to
everyone that he was trying; he knew that if he made another attempt he
could not do worse than he had done, and he might do better, and if he
did break down there would not be anything very unusual in it, seeing
it would make the third time, so he found another text and announced
it. Everybody was wide awake and ready for another stop, but Abe
smiled, brightened up, and went on; "She's baan to goa this time, I do
believe," said he, and so it proved, for when he got into his subject
he spoke very fluently, sensibly, and naturally, and all present felt
that Abe could preach when he got started, and how could he or any one
else preach without starting?

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