Chapter 11: Progress at Waterbeach

Chapter 11.
Progress At Waterbeach

Increasing Popularity—Stepney College in 1852—A Singular Misadventure—A Voice on Midsummer Common—Resolution not to go to College—Reminiscences—William Jay and John Angell James—Calvinist or Arminian?—The Poor Pastor and his Clothes—The Prayers of Children—Professor Everett's Recollections—Mr. Edward Ingle's Reminiscences of Mr. Spurgeon as a Tutor—"The Old Pope"—A Missionary Meeting in the School—Predictions of future Greatness—A Letter of 1853.

Though not a few may have been tempted to despise his youth, as had been the case with that afterwards sincere friend Deacon Robert Coe, Mr. Spurgeon met with many outsiders who accorded him hearty encouragement while he was at Waterbeach. Among those who visited the village and preached in the meetinghouse in those early days was the late Cornelius Elven, a native of Bury St. Edmund's, who devoted fifty years of his life to pastoral labour in that town. Mr. Elven was a giant in stature, and it is said that he was charged the fare of two persons when travelling by coach. When this worthy visited Waterbeach, he appears to have noticed that the boy-preacher's abilities were above the common order, and while encouraging him in his work he ventured to give some common-sense, fatherly advice, which was thankfully accepted and acted upon. Some years afterwards, when Mr. Elven had grown old enough to need a co-pastor, Mr. Spurgeon recommended him one of the best preachers that had been trained in the Pastors' College—Mr. William Cuff, who has since had erected for him the Shoreditch Tabernacle, in which he now ministers. Mr. Elven was also one who watched the progress of Mr. Spurgeon during the early days in London, and preached for his young friend at New Park Street Chapel. In the meantime, while the pastor of the little old-fashioned chapel at Waterbeach was making rapid progress, and achieving quite an uncommon kind of popularity, the most interested observers of what was happening were naturally Mr. and Mrs. John Spurgeon of Colchester and the aged pastor of Stambourne. Whatever misgivings may have been harboured in relation to the subject in earlier days, it was now plainly seen that Charles had found his life-work. The father, more especially, became particularly anxious that his son should be as well equipped as possible for the service which lay before him. Charles had enjoyed the advantages of a good school education; it was now indispensable that he should add to this a theological training such as could only be obtained at a college established for the purpose. Labour at Waterbeach would have to be suspended for a time; the young pastor must go to college. At that time the Baptist College at Stepney had existed for between forty and fifty years; but though the surroundings at the time of starting in 1810 may have been of a semi-rural kind, they had now all the characteristics of a murky, East-end London parish. The Principal of the institution was Dr. Joseph Angus, and that veteran tutor still holds the same office at Regent's Park College, to which the Stepney students were removed in 1856. As his son had become a Baptist, Mr. John Spurgeon regarded Stepney College as being the place to supply what was wanted in the way of a more complete theological education.

Mr. John Spurgeon reasoned with his son long and earnestly on the subject, the result being that it was arranged for a meeting to take place between Dr. Angus, the tutor of Stepney, and the young Waterbeach preacher, who might have been called the itinerant evangelist of Cambridgeshire. The place of meeting was to be at the house of a well-known publisher in the University town, and both the Doctor and the proposed student duly kept their appointment; but although both were in the house together, it seemed to be destined that they were not to meet. Mr. Macmillan's servant-maid was apparently not the shrewdest of her sex; at all events, she quite failed to understand that the staid professor and the round-faced lad, who arrived at the house nearly at the same time, had any business with one another. She showed the Doctor into one parlour and closed the door; in his turn, she showed young Mr. Spurgeon into a second parlour and closed the door; and then, probably forgetting all about such a trivial circumstance, she left both of the morning callers to their peaceful cogitations. Having to keep an appointment in London, Dr. Angus had at last to hasten away to the railway station; and when Mr. Spurgeon felt that he could hold out no longer, he rang the bell, to learn when the servant came that the Doctor had gone away. This was not at first regarded as a circumstance which in anywise indicated that the idea of going to college would have to be abandoned. An application for admission to the College could be made in writing, and, as that plan promised to answer the purpose equally well, Mr. Spurgeon resolved that he would despatch a letter to the committee asking that his desire might be favoured. Man proposes and God disposes, however. Persons of strong Puritanic sympathies, such as the Waterbeach pastor and his grandfather entertained, have always strongly protested against what were to them merely man-made ministers. If a man was really called of God to preach the Gospel, let him go forth in the strength of the Lord, and let all bid him God-speed. If, on the other hand, a man thought he could take his destiny into his own hands, and transform himself into a minister of the Word, let him check presumption by heeding well the inspired warning, "What hast thou to do to declare My statutes, or that thou shouldst take My covenant in thy mouth?"

Probably no one was ever further removed from superstition than Mr. Spurgeon; but such things as we call premonitions or presentiments may have had some meaning for him, just as they have for many others who would shrink from attempting to make everything plain to objectors. There were stranger things in his world than are dreamt of in the world's philosophy. In the after-part of the day on which he missed seeing the Stepney professor by a seeming accident, Mr. Spurgeon had a strange experience, which would appear to have exercised an influence over the whole of his after-life. His devotion to the cause of the Lay Preachers'

Association was still as ardent as ever, and an engagement had to be kept at a village on that very evening. Lying about a mile to the north-east of Cambridge, Chesterton includes the site of the ancient castle; but it is now the suburb containing the pleasant homes of well-to-do people who are engaged in business in the University town. While crossing Midsummer Common, near to this place, and thinking about various things, certain words of Holy Writ occurred to the mind of the young preacher with such force that it seemed they were actually spoken through the opening clouds, direct from heaven itself—"Seekest thou great things for thyself? Seek them not!"

Whatever may have been the way in which these words were suggested to the mind of the young pastor in a meditative mood, as he crossed Midsummer Common to keep his village preaching engagement, a turning-point in his life had arrived. Where was he? what were his aims? what were the things that his heart was really seeking after? He seemed, as it were, to be brought to a sudden standstill in his life-course, and some serious self-examination had become necessary. The searching questions which a young Christian would ask himself at such a time seem to be sufficiently obvious. Had he given himself unreservedly to his Lord's service, and did the entire unselfishness of his aims testify to his sincerity? If God had called him to the work of preaching the Gospel, and had given him a sphere of labour, was he justified in leaving it for the purpose of spending several years in the seclusion of a London college? Were the claims which the poor but warm-hearted people of Waterbeach had upon him to be altogether ignored? If the Lord appointed His workmen, would He not fully equip them for their service?

Some such questions would suggest themselves to the preacher's mind, and, while seeking an answer to them, his resolution concerning a theological education was taken once and for all. He was plainly called to do the work he was engaged in, and he would not leave it. The idea of seeking any additional benefit from a college training would therefore have to be abandoned. Many had sought great things for themselves in the direction of the College. A large number had undoubtedly derived great benefit from the prescribed studies; but for himself, he must seek them not.

Mr. and Mrs. John Spurgeon did not see things in this light; for, from the standpoint of their wider worldly experience, the opportunity of securing a thorough theological training was a providential opening to be entered without hesitation. The father reasoned long and earnestly with his son on this matter; but it was impossible to shake the young preacher's resolution, which he had arrived at under such singular circumstances. He would not actually be disobedient to so good a parent; if the order, "You are to go," was authoritatively given, he would yield as a duty, but he would never go to college of his own free choice. The pastor of Tollesbury thought that his son was making a mistake; but he judged that, as a father, it was his duty to give way. He may have suspected that, after all, things were not quite what they appeared to be to him, and that everything would be made plain in the course of the good providence of God. In any case, persuasive words fell flat on the ear of the young Waterbeach pastor, while the most forcible arguments were pointless; for all that the father could bring forward in favour of securing a college training was answered by the words which had been so mysteriously suggested on Midsummer Common—"Seekest thou great things for thyself? Seek them not." This, then, is how it happened that Mr. Spurgeon never went to college. The youthful pastor returned to his little sphere at Waterbeach in a happy and contented state of mind. He harboured no doubt concerning the Divine guidance; and to have the pathway of life made plain before him was really to have a stumbling-block removed out of the way. The outlook of a village pastorate never appeared more encouraging to a pastor. The old, picturesque, thatched chapel still continued to be crowded; conversions were so numerous that Waterbeach itself began to show visible signs of improvement; while the pastor's services were still sought for special and anniversary celebrations. Every step he now took confirmed him in the assurance that he had done right in remaining where he was. At times Mr. Spurgeon would indulge his friends with anecdotes and reminiscences of those early days, and, as may be seen in the religious papers of that date, one of these occasions occurred during the first week of December, 1880. The fact was then referred to that at Waterbeach baptisms took place in the open air and in the neighbouring river, as had been the case at Isleham, where Mr. Spurgeon was immersed, as already described. This primitive mode of administering the ordinance had some drawbacks, however; and it might become especially trying on a wet day. On one memorable occasion, when that worthy giant, Cornelius Elven, had volunteered his services, it rained heavily; and the Bury St. Edmund's pastor grew more than a little nervous at the prospect of getting wet through, for the weighty reason that he had no change of clothes, and, if it came to borrowing, there were none within a radius of forty miles which would be anything like large enough. As a young beginner whose preaching had been found to have attractions for large numbers of all ages and of all conditions in life, Mr. Spurgeon himself felt great interest in the ministrations of the leading divines of their day. He took care to hear a sermon from the venerable William Jay, of Bath, when he visited Cambridge, and ever afterwards harboured grateful memories concerning him. Even the text was never forgotten—"Ever let your conversation be as becometh the Gospel of Christ." He also thought it worth while to travel to Birmingham to hear John Angell James, who gave a much appreciated discourse from the words, "Ye are complete in Him." Mr. James was not quite so ardent a Calvinist as his younger friend, and did not suppose that his preaching would always prove so acceptable. He was, however, a man in whom dignity and simplicity were combined. The preaching adventures of Mr. Spurgeon's early days were many and varied. Thus, at one well-known town in Hertfordshire, he was viewed as an intruder according to the prejudice of different observers. There were several chapels in the place; but he was too much of a Calvinist for one, and too much of an Arminian for another. However, at last he was admitted to the pulpit of a third. The pastor of the congregation received a stipend about equal to the wages of a farm labourer, so that a visitor to his cottage might well feel some misgivings about accepting his hospitality. "I noticed," Mr. Spurgeon afterwards said, "that my host wore a very shiny alpaca coat; and at the close of the sermon I said to the congregation, 'Now I have preached my best to you. Freely you have received, freely give. The minister of this place looks as if he wants a new suit of clothes: I will give half a sovereign, my friend down below will do the same, and plates will be held at the doors for your contributions.' The effort was successful. After the service, the poor pastor said that his Master had always sent him his living, but that he was beginning to wonder where the next suit of clothes would come from."

Mr. Spurgeon has also told of another experience which he met with in that same town, and on the same day. He offended certain strait-laced Calvinists by telling a company of children that God would hear their prayers even before they were converted. In the estimation of some Christian professors of "high" sentiments, this savoured of the most dangerous Arminianism, and as these gathered together in grave consultation the question triumphantly asked was, whether the prayers of the wicked were not an abomination to the Lord? "What are you battling with this young man about?" asked an elderly dame, whose red cloak served to make her conspicuous. "What do you know about the Scriptures?" she added, with some vehemence. "You say God does not hear the prayers of unconverted people; why, have you never read that He heareth the young ravens when they cry?—and there is no grace in them. If God hears the cry of the ravens, don't you think He will hear the cry of a man made in His own image?" That seemed to settle the point, and it was found more convenient to walk away than to continue the argument. In such secluded country places as the young pastor from Waterbeach was called upon to visit from time to time, many eccentric samples of humanity would be discovered—lineal descendants, as it might have been imagined, of the quaint Puritan heroes whose wit left its impression on their age. Think, for example, of a devoted veteran who, after serving the neighbouring farmers as a common shepherd for forty years, took to the more responsible service of tending a flock belonging to the fold of Christ. The force of habit being what it is, such a man would hardly be able to be very greatly different from what he had been during the main part of his life, so that it was quite a natural confession for him to make when he declared that his second flock was far more sheepish than the first.

Professor J. D. Everett has given some interesting facts concerning this period:—"In or about 1852," he says, "I was occupying a post in a high-class school (Mr. Thorowgood's, at Totteridge, near London), and there being a vacancy for another assistant, I wrote, with Mr. Thorowgood's approval, to my old friend Spurgeon, proposing that he should come and fill it. He asked for a few days to decide definitely, and then wrote declining, chiefly on the ground that he was unwilling to renounce the evangelistic work which he combined with the position he then held. He stated then or in a subsequent letter that he had preached more than three hundred times in the previous twelve months, and that the chapel at Waterbeach was not only full, but crowded with outside listeners at the open windows."

These preaching engagements in towns and villages of the surrounding country appear to have yielded the young itinerant great satisfaction; and they were so far from adding to his burden that they appear rather to have relieved the weekday teaching in Mr. Leeding's school at Cambridge. Those were happy and profitable days, and some of the pupils who were then pursuing their education still survive, and are able to give sunny memories of the time they spent at school under such masters.

Thus, referring to Mr. Spurgeon as he was in the year 1852, my friend Mr. Edward Ingle, now of Willingham, but who was then a pupil in the Cambridge academy, supplies me with some personal reminiscences. In a private letter dated March 23, 1892, Mr. Ingle remarks: "I count myself honoured in the providence of God to have come under his tuition in my schooldays. Newspaper references to his position in Mr. Charles Leeding's school in Cambridgeshire refreshed pleasant memories of study and friendship. As boys, we were, I believe, drawn to love him by a spell similar to what his students of later years have felt." As he looks back through the vista of forty years, Mr. Ingle can recall to mind that the young tutor—who was himself only of schoolboy age—already showed great force of character, which could not fail to exercise a powerful influence on those lads who came into contact with him. At the same time, Spurgeon had in his character all those attractive traits which come of the freshness of youth and of a sanguine temperament. In the year 1852 he was eighteen years of age, and he resided in the house with Mr. Leeding and his housekeeper, the school and its surroundings being kept quite apart from the house. On a certain afternoon young Ingle arrived exceptionally early, no doubt hoping to have some play before lessons. Just at that moment Mr. Spurgeon happened to be coming out of the house, and taking hold of his scholar in his kind, familiar way, the young tutor said, "Come along, Ingle, I'll show you what I am writing against the old Pope." The two then entered the school, when from his desk the amateur author brought forth that manuscript entitled "Antichrist and her Brood" which George Smith, the pastor of Poplar, had commended, although, as adjudicator, he had not awarded its writer Mr. Arthur Morley's prize. Mr. Spurgeon "turned over the pages with a relish," says his quondam scholar, and then remarked, with an emphasis worthy of his ancestors who had suffered under the agents of Philip II. in the Netherlands, "Plow I should like to pull the old Pope from his throne." At that time, as Mr. Ingle can vividly remember, nothing more readily awakened the enthusiasm of his young tutor than a reminder of the unscriptural pretensions and teaching of the Papacy. To the hoys whom he taught, Mr. Spurgeon's mind seemed to be occupied with great subjects, or, at all events, with things which lay beyond the ken of his class. The young tutor was also known to be very warm-hearted; and while there was something in his eye, as well as in the compass of his voice, which already attracted the attention of those who lived or studied with him, Mr. Ingle assures me that, "to a casual observer, his tout-ensemble was very extraordinary." So long as he was neat and comfortable, the prevailing fashion in dress never troubled young Spurgeon; whether people were reminded of a former generation or of the present by the cut of his coat or the shape of his stock, was a matter of no concern. The boys thought that their teacher was without doubt an odd-looking young man to have charge of a class of lads; but, nevertheless, all they saw in him only served to confirm their confidence and command their admiration. He might be singular in some respects, but when he came to be engaged in the serious business of teaching, all things save the subject in hand were at once forgotten. Only let this somewhat odd-looking young tutor read a stirring passage from English history, or give a page from Milton's masterpiece, or explain in a way that boys could comprehend something relating to astronomy, physical geography, or some other science, and the pupils at once had their attention arrested, the too-frequently dull routine of school-hour lessons became at once invested with a charm which was irresistible. All was the more effective because the teacher never gave himself up to the assumption of airs which would not have been becoming in one of his years. Just as in after-years, when he ranked as the first preacher of his age, Mr.

Spurgeon would say in his jovial manner, "You know, I'm not the reverend gentleman," so at Cambridge he was a youth among boys. Hence Mr. Ingle is able to add, "We used to have plenty of fun; Spurgeon would laugh as heartily as anyone I ever saw." On one occasion one of the scholars became perplexed over a matter of spelling, although the word consisted of only four letters. "Please, sir, do you spell York, York or Yeaork"? asked the lad, the query at once provoking a round of laughter. Lending strong emphasis to the Yea, Mr. Spurgeon gave it as his decided opinion that the word should begin as the scholar suggested—as though a new discovery had been made. He then wrote down Yeaork, and, handing the paper to the inquirer to show him how natural it looked, the youngster was obliged to join in the merriment. On another day there was a lesson in botany, when mention was made of "cruciform plants." Mr. Spurgeon asked, "What is a cruciform plant; what shape is it?" Then when the boys showed a dull apprehension by not answering, the tutor presently gave the command, "Now then, out you go into the playground or garden, and fetch me in the flower of a cruciform plant." Of course, the young botanists found the adjournment into the open air an agreeable change. One of them was successful in finding on a certain vegetable a flower in the form of a cross. Then followed a reminder of the scientific or Latin name of the plant; but the lesson did not conclude without some passing earnest references to the cross of Christ. As my friend at Willingham is able to testify, the boys who made up Mr. Spurgeon's class needed no urging to be attentive when the time for going through a Scripture lesson came round. Though the Bible is often regarded as a dry book by boys, the Scripture lessons were given with a freshness which made them of extraordinary interest. "There was no long, sombre face with Spurgeon, no starchiness," remarks his former pupil; "he was very homely and happy in these lessons." While giving them, the young teacher would not only become animated, but seemed to speak about the old-time characters who stood out on the page of inspiration as though they were his own personal acquaintances. One occasion is still memorable—that on which the lesson embraced the passage wherein the prophet Elijah challenges the people to determine by-fire whether the Lord of Hosts or Baal was the true God. The great scene on Mount Carmel was depicted before the boys with wonderful vividness. To everyone present it almost seemed that the youth had actually been an eye-witness of the spectacle. On another occasion, when the class had to read Isaiah 55, which Mr. Spurgeon told them was one of the gems of the Bible, he asked them if they would not commit that passage to memory, and all did so. It was evident to the boys that their tutor read with rarest delight what he would have called the Gospel according to the Evangelical Prophet, although it was hardly to be supposed that the pupils would be able fully to understand their leader's fervour. There was another passage in the Psalms which he seemed to love specially to dwell upon at this time, for in it he saw a wonderful revelation of the Divine character as viewed from the human standpoint: "As far as the east is from the west, so far hath He removed our transgressions from us."

There were other things than lessons, however, which had to receive attention; for we have to remember that, in addition to the regular work at Waterbeach, the young tutor was also still a member of the Cambridge Lay Preachers' Association. Thus, on a certain dark and damp winter afternoon, just before breaking-up time, the door of the room is opened, and the figure who enters, laughing merrily at what he supposes may be his own somewhat odd appearance, is no other than young Mr. Spurgeon in the costume of an itinerant preacher of the Fens. Completely enveloped in an oilskin suit, the junior tutor had looked in just to show Mr. Leeding and the lads at their desks what he appeared like when fully equipped for the road. "Here I am, going off to fight the battles of the Lord," he remarked; and away he went to keep a preaching engagement in a village not far away.

While he aimed at exercising the best possible moral and religious influence over the boys he had in charge, Mr. Spurgeon was careful at the same time to develop their talents; and he appears to have been particularly anxious to bring out or encourage those who showed any faculty for public speaking. He was at all times ready to make allowances for natural shortcomings, and overflowed with sympathy; but it was not always easy for the scholars to keep pace with such a teacher. For example, he once remarked, "We will have a little meeting amongst ourselves some evening;" and, because the boys knew well enough that he meant what he said, they somewhat dreaded the novel kind of entertainment in prospect. Though it was such a miniature affair, all the arrangements were to be similar to those of a public gathering in the town. Mr. Spurgeon and several of the lads were to constitute the audience; the subject was to be the foreign missionary cause; a duly qualified boy would be voted into the chair, and the speakers would be expected to say something to the purpose. Mr. Edward Ingle vividly remembers this diverting incident of his schooldays. In due time the evening came round, and preparations worthy of the occasion had been made in the schoolroom: a platform, with a table and chairs, had been erected; there was a proper seat for the president of the coming meeting, there were forms for the auditors. The chairman who happened to be elected was rather diminutive for his years; but, being a clever little fellow, it was supposed that he might do what was required of him with credit to himself and profit to others. It turned out, however, that both the chairman and those who were to support him showed some symptoms of nervousness just at the time when they should have remained calm and self-possessed. The chairman showed unmistakable weakness about the knees; and when he rose it was not to make a few appropriate remarks on the subject of foreign missions, but earnestly to ask that he might be allowed to resign his office. He had no sooner spoken than circumstances seemed to favour his petition, though in a manner as unwelcome as it was unexpected. In a moment the entire little platform collapsed, the chairman and the table, the appointed speakers and the seats, suddenly showing a striking transformation scene, of which confusion and alarm were the main characteristics. Mr. Spurgeon himself appeared to be terror-stricken, until the welcome discovery was made that no one was much hurt, and that little damage was done. When Mr. Spurgeon had completed the rescue of his young friends there was a hearty, all-round laugh; and then the serious business of rebuilding the structure in a more enduring way was undertaken. The platform having been rebuilt, a stronger-kneed chairman was elected, and the meeting proceeded in a way which yielded satisfaction to all who took part in it. Instead of the boys being disheartened, as might have been the case, they were encouraged to persevere and to attempt to do better another time. The young tutor well knew the value of an encouraging word, accompanied by a kind pat on the shoulder, at such a time; and it was because the boys became anxious to please one who so greatly appreciated all that they did for him that they were willing to go on to do better. As Mr. Spurgeon went on his course in this manner, he occasionally came into contact with those who thought that they saw in him that which would develope into something greater. One friend and then another would give opinions as regarded the future which were not always easy to understand at the time, but which were destined to be more than realised. Men of learning, and of experience in the Church and the world, sometimes had to do with him, and they saw that he possessed gifts of no common order. It was customary at times to hear such a remark as, "That Spurgeon will be a wonderful man some day; there's something marvellous about him." Those who lived in the same house with him were sharers of this conviction, and were, if possible, even more convinced that a distinguished future awaited him. This was the case with Mr. Leeding and the housekeeper, both of whom were profoundly impressed with their young friend's character and abilities, as also were many who came to the house. One visitor in particular declared he had an irresistible conviction that the young tutor and itinerant preacher had a great future before him, and that mighty works would be done by him for God. And there was one who at this early date was discerning enough to make the striking prophecy—"That young man will yet shake England like a second Luther!"

Having been associated in his youth with Mr. Spurgeon, Mr. Edward Ingle naturally watched the progress of his old tutor in London with no common interest; to meet with him, to hear a sermon from him, came to be regarded as one of the greatest of gratifications. On one memorable occasion in 1874 it was my own privilege to accompany Mr. Spurgeon to Willingham, when he preached in the open air to a great crowd on behalf of the building fund of the new chapel, which his brother-in-law, the late Mr. Jackson, had erected. Mr. Ingle, who has supplied the above facts relative to schooldays in Cambridge, vividly remembers this festival, of which some account will appear in the proper place.

During this time, while the young pastor was living at Cambridge, and towards the end of 1853, or about the time that he first came to London, his home was at 9, Union Road, and we find him also at 60, Upper Park Street. Though his ministerial income was then less than a pound a week, his people at Waterbeach made him many presents, while he realised something from teaching the boys who now remember him so fondly. It was not only a time of happiness and of progress, it was also a period of preparation for more arduous service. A religious newspaper has reproduced the following advertisement, which throws some light on Mr. Spurgeon's movements at this period:—

"No. 60, Upper Park Street, Cambridge.

"Mr. C. H. Spurgeon begs to inform his numerous friends that, after Christmas, he intends taking six or seven young gentlemen as day pupils. He will endeavour to the utmost to impart a good commercial education. The ordinary routine will include arithmetic, algebra, geometry, and mensuration; grammar and composition; ancient and modern history; geography, natural history, astronomy, Scripture, and drawing. Latin and the elements of Greek and French if required. Terms £5 per annum."

While conducting one of the prayer-meetings which were held during the latter half of 1891 to plead for Mr. Spurgeon's recovery, Mr. Stott, who was then assistant pastor at the Metropolitan Tabernacle, read a letter in which the young pastor of Waterbeach referred to his work and prospects in the ingenuous and warm-hearted way which was characteristic of him even in those early years. It was as follows:—

"My Dear Uncle,

"I have two or three reasons for writing to you just at this time. We are going to have a baptising on October 19, and I should be so glad to see my uncle following his Master in the water. I am almost afraid to mention the subject lest anyone should charge me with giving it undue prominence; if they will do so, they must. I can bear it for my Master's sake.... Now, with regard to coming for a week to preach at Stambourne and neighbouring villages, I am yours to serve to the utmost. Not on the Sabbath, but all the week. I have a good sphere of labour here, but I want to do more, if possible. It is a great field, and the labourers must work with all their might. I often wish I were in China, Hindostan, or Africa, so that I might preach, preach, preach all day long. It would be sweet to die preaching. But I want more of the Holy Spirit; I do not feel enough—no, not half enough—of His divine energy.... I shall not mind preaching two evenings in Stambourne if you cannot get other convenient places; and I should love to have some good thoroughly hot prayer-meetings after the service.... I wish to live in unity with every believer, whether Calvinist, Arminian, Churchman, Independent, or Wesleyan; and, though I firmly believe they are tottering, I do not like them well enough to prop them up by my wrangling at them.... I am, yours most truly, "C. Spurgeon.

"9, Union Road, Cambridge, "September 27, 1853."