Chapter 19: Work And Progress In 1855

Chapter 19.
Work And Progress In 1855

Opening of the year 1855—Commencement of The New Park Street Pulpit—Sermon for the London Association—Enlargement of the Chapel—Services at Exeter Hall—Caricatures—A Pen-and-ink Sketch—False Anecdotes—Mr. Spurgeon at Tottenham—Reopening of New Park Street Chapel—Large Sale of the Sermons—Birthday Celebration—The Christian Cabinet—The Mission of the Cheap Press—Visit to Scotland—In the Highlands—In "Danger on the Clyde—A Friend's Reminiscences of New Park Street.

Although the year 1854 had closed in gloom, people were looking hopefully into the future when the New Year opened. Things could not be expected to be worse than they had been, and the probability was that there would be an improvement. As regarded Mr. Spurgeon, he was now able to consider himself thoroughly established in London. So far was his popularity from waning, that it had continued to grow, and promised to become greater than ever during the year which was then opening. The appetite of sermon-readers throughout the country had been sufficiently whetted by the samples of the young pastor's discourses which had already been printed; and, accordingly, it was now determined to publish regularly, as a weekly periodical, The New Park Street Pulpit. The desire to undertake such an enterprise did not originate with Mr. Spurgeon himself; but Mr. Joseph Passmore, who was then a young man engaged in the printing and publishing business, saw the golden opportunity which offered itself, and resolved to take advantage of it. Mr. Passmore was associated with the New Park Street Church and congregation, and his family was related to that of the late Dr. Rippon. The young printer and the young preacher passed some time together on Mr. Spurgeon's memorable first Sunday in London, and thus a lifelong friendship was commenced. If the weekly publication of the sermons was likely to become a successful undertaking, there would be no objection in Mr. Spurgeon's mind to a trial being made. Mr. Passmore and Mr. Alabaster, his partner, were both trustworthy men whose characters naturally inspired him with confidence. On the opening Sunday of the year Mr. Spurgeon preached at New Park Street on the Immutability of God, the sermon being founded on Mal 3:6 —"I am the Lord, I change not; therefore ye sons of Jacob are not consumed." The discourse is throughout quite in the preacher's early style, and, notwithstanding that the doctrines of his later days were identical with those he taught at the outset of his career, the phraseology is here and there not altogether such as Mr. Spurgeon would afterwards have used. Probably Milton's imagery—in the passages he had loved to recite to his pupils at Cambridge—had still great fascination for him. The High Calvinists must have found much in the sermon that was reassuring from their peculiar standpoint. In proof of the doctrine of election, John Newton's story relating to a worthy woman, who had something to say on the subject, was retold. "Ah, sir," said this dame of Old London to the rector of St. Mary Woolnoth, "the Lord must have loved me before I was born, or else He would not have seen anything in me to love afterwards." The discourse at the evening service, which preceded the administration of the Lord's Supper, was founded on 1Co 11:24 —"This do in remembrance of Me."

During that same week, on Wednesday afternoon, January 10, Mr. Spurgeon preached at New Park Street on behalf of the London Baptist Association, and among the congregation some well-known London ministers might have been observed. In one pew, some time before the service commenced, was Thomas Binney, of the Weigh-House Chapel, and a few minutes later John De Kewer Williams, of Tottenham, took a place beside the City pastor. The sermon was founded on 2Co 10:4 —"For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal." Mr. Williams, who still retains a vivid recollection of the occasion, especially remembers what he calls "the intensely graphic way in which the young preacher described how the strongholds of Satan should be taken by storm and destroyed." It was remarked in the course of the sermon that "the Baptists are the elect of the elect," which made it clear that, young as he was, the preacher was thoroughly persuaded in his own mind. Here is an extract from this discourse relating to the opposite doctrines of Antinomianism and Arminianism:—

"I dread Arminianism (and my church and my people equally do), and every Christian ought to dread Antinomianism. I tremble sometimes when I think how much of its spirit there is amongst us. I think that Antinomianism differs from Arminianism in this—Arminianism is an enemy of truth altogether, and is entirely a system of error, but Antinomianism is the abuse of truth. It is the taking the stones of the sanctuary to build a house for Belial. It is building upon the truth of Jesus the wood, hay, and stubble of carnal man's imaginings. Arminianism is false from top to bottom, but this Antinomianism is true at the foundation, and on this basis are built up inferences so abominable, so horrifying, that, well might St. Paul say, at the mention of one of them, 'God forbid!' 'What! shall I continue in sin, that grace may abound?' What! shall I despise God's holy law because I cannot perfectly fulfil it? What! shall I make an excuse for myself because of the corruption of my heart? What! shall I say I am never to strive after nearness to perfection because I feel I cannot, in the present state, get quite up to it? What! shall I sit myself down in sloth, and sing 'Jehovah Jireh,' and imagine that because God will bring about His awful decrees and work out His gracious purposes I am to sit down and wait for them, without using the means God has appointed for the obtaining of the purposed and promised blessings? Let it be far from us; yea, let us abhor it. It is a 'deep ditch, and he that is abhorred of the Lord shall fall into it.' God deliver us from it! Oh that Antinomianism!—which administers opiates to the ungodly; which brings men together in the house of God, and tells them that if they are lost it is not their fault; lulls them off to sleep, lets them go to hell blindfold, with the conviction that if they are to be damned they shall be damned. Horrible beyond expression! You and I, each of us, must be united in a holy league, as much against Antinomianism as Arminianism. We shall have our hands full if we attempt to do anything against either of these things, but God help us and we yet shall overcome and wave the palm branch of victory." This striking sermon, the tea-meeting which followed, and the crowded public meeting of the evening, marked a new era in the history of what was then called the London Association of Baptist Churches. The denominational organ thus contrasted the old times with the new:—

"Whatever reason may be assigned for the fact, it is certain that an Association meeting in London is very different from one in the country. Perhaps the ministers and members of the several churches meet so often that an annual gathering is no novelty; perhaps the walk through London streets, or the jolt in an omnibus or cab, has fewer attractions than the Whitsuntide jaunt by railroad or pleasant country lane; or perhaps the thing has escaped due attention amid the throng of metropolitan claims—but certain it is, that the London Particular Baptist Association, holding as it does, from a sense of duty, a meeting every year, has only given generally the impression of being a somewhat dull affair. Indeed, it is not enlivening either to preacher or hearer to find one's self in New Park Street Chapel with a congregation of seventy people on a January weekday afternoon! This year, we are bound to say, all was different. The popularity of the Rev. C. H. Spurgeon, the recently-settled pastor at New Park Street, attracted a crowded audience on the afternoon of the 10th instant. The metropolitan churches of the denomination appeared for the most part well represented, the only noticeable exception being the absence of several leading ministers, owing, as was explained, to the Quarterly Mission Committee being holden, by some mischance which will probably not occur again, upon the same day. The preacher treated with much earnestness on the 'strongholds' of the Evil One that we are called to subdue, and on 'the weapons of our warfare,' which are 'mighty through God' to the task. The vigour and originality of the sermon, we cannot forbear remarking, sufficiently accounted to us for the popularity of the youthful preacher, and indicated powers which, with due culture, may by the Divine blessing greatly and usefully serve the Church in days to come." At that time older preachers saw something to admire, and in a sense to envy, in what they called Mr. Spurgeon's assurance. Thus, as Mr. Williams remarks, "Although he must have seen Mr. Binney among the congregation, he was apparently not in the slightest degree disconcerted." The fact was, as the present writer can himself testify, the youthful pastor was in some measure troubled at his own unparalleled popularity, and dreaded the crowd far more than he did any individuals, however celebrated they might be. By this time the managers at New Park Street had decided that something must be done with the old chapel in order to provide some additional accommodation for the ever-increasing crowds. The site admitted of some enlargement of the building being carried out; and funds having been collected for this enterprise, the congregation removed to Exeter Hall—then a comparatively new building only two or three years older than the preacher who was to conduct the services in its great room.

It was quite a new departure for a congregation to hire such a building as this for ordinary services; and on the first day of meeting—Sunday, February 11—large numbers were attracted by curiosity. Hitherto, Exeter Hall had seemed to belong to the Sacred Harmonic Society on the one hand, and to the conveners of May meetings on the other; for a preacher to arise who could crowd its benches and even its aisles to the last standing-place, was altogether a novel experience. What was the meaning of the Strand being partially blocked soon after ten on Sunday mornings by a well-dressed crowd of people carrying Bibles and Rippon's Selection of Hymns? The inconvenience was caused by a young man from New Park Street, whom people seemed determined to hear at any hazard. The question went round from one to the other, "Who is he?" and the answer was, "He is a stripling from Waterbeach." One thing after another leaked out about this young Spurgeon. It was soon told abroad that he was the son of an Independent minister, that he had turned Baptist, and that he was an uncompromising Calvinist. The Press, in the main, appears to have been fair and generous. Thus, one of the ablest and most respectable of the London evening papers gave this notice:—

"The circumstances under which this gentleman has recently come before the public are curious, and demand a passing notice. Some months since he became minister of New Park Street Chapel, and it was soon found that the building, capacious as it was, was far too small to accommodate the crowds of persons who flocked to hear the young and eloquent Divine. In this state of affairs, there was no alternative but to enlarge the chapel; and while this process was going on, Exeter Hall was engaged for him. For some weeks past he has been preaching there every Sunday morning and evening; but he has filled the great hall just as easily as he filled New Park Street Chapel. A traveller along the Strand, about six o'clock on a Sunday evening, would wonder what could be the meaning of a crowd which literally stopped the progress of public vehicles, and sent unhappy pedestrians round the by-streets, in utter hopelessness of getting along the wide thoroughfare. Since the days of Whitefield—whose honoured name seems to be in danger of being thrown into the shade by this new candidate for pulpit honours—so thorough a religious furore has never existed. Mr. Spurgeon is likely to become a great preacher; at present his fervid and impassioned eloquence sometimes leads him astray, and mars the beauty of his singularly happy style."

About the same time, The Glasgow News had something to say concerning a popular minister in London and "the green-eyed monster," as follows:—

"To the horror of some pious rival, New Park Street Chapel has become rapidly crowded, so that the congregation has had to resort to Exeter Hall till their chapel is enlarged. Even Exeter Hall is found too small to accommodate the crowds which go to see and hear the youthful and now renowned Rev. C. H. Spurgeon. Someone, who, we suspect, could give a beggarly account of empty benches, has written to some of the newspapers, holding up this successful rival to scorn because he does not preach and pray-to his satisfaction—that is, we presume, in the usual jog-trot, sleepy fashion. Young Spurgeon must, therefore, be held up to contempt in the columns of such papers as choose to lend themselves to these purposes. We have seen gentlemen who have worshipped in his crowded congregation, and who state that the services are conducted with strict propriety, and that there is nothing in the service to offend even 'ears polite.' They assure us that his discourses are replete with substantial matters, and that they are couched in language vigorous and appropriate. He pays no attention to the dogmas of schools, and chooses to express his views in language of his own, which is free from the stereotyped phraseology of the pulpit; but there is no expression used unworthy of the subject, and none which judges of theology would repudiate. A number of letters have appeared in his vindication, and to these the names of highly respectable parties are attached. It were well for rivals to mind their own business, as a young man of such energy as Mr. Spurgeon is not to be put down by envious rivals. Like other young preachers, he has his peculiarities; but these are often the indications of a genius which ripens into a brilliant maturity." The name and doings of the youthful pastor thus soon became a theme of common talk outside of what is conventionally known as the religious world. The caricaturists set themselves to work. In one production, which was sufficiently popular in its day, the New Park Street pastor was depicted as Mr. Brimstone; and in order that no mistake might he made, another contemporary celebrity, Mr. Treacle, had his portrait given in the same drawing. Another picture was "Catch-'em-alive-O," Mr. Spurgeon's preaching being thus compared with the stick-fast fly-papers then in use. Meanwhile, busy tongues, pens, and pencils contributed to increase a popularity which was already unexampled. A pen-and-ink sketch of the preacher at this time says:—

"A young man, in the twenty-first year of his age, has just appeared under this name, among our metropolitan preachers, and is creating a great sensation in the religious world. He had only been a few weeks settled as minister of Park Street Chapel, Southwark, before that commodious place was filled to overflowing, while hundreds at each service went away who were unable to effect an entrance. The result was that it was agreed to enlarge the chapel, and that the youthful minister should preach in the large room of Exeter Hall for eight Sundays, until the reopening of his own place of worship. It will easily be believed how great must be the popularity of this almost boyish preacher, when we mention that yesterday, both morning and evening, the large hall, capable of containing from 4,000 to 5,000 persons, was filled in every part. Mr. Spurgeon belongs to the Baptist denomination, in which his father is a minister in the neighbourhood of Cambridge. He is short in stature, and somewhat thickly built, which, with an exceedingly broad, massive face, gives him the appearance of one of twenty-six or twenty-seven years of age, instead of twenty-one. His doctrines are of the Calvinist school. He is a young man, we are told, of extensive information, especially on theological subjects, and of a highly cultivated mind. There can be no doubt that he possesses superior talents, while, in some of his happier flights, he rises to a high order of pulpit oratory. It is in pathos that he excels, though he does not himself seem to be aware of the fact. But for some drawbacks in the young Divine, we should anticipate great usefulness from him, because he not only possesses qualities peculiarly adapted to attract and rivet the attention of the masses, but he makes faithful and powerful appeals to the consciences of the unconverted. In the spirit of sincere friendship we would impress upon him the indispensable necessity of relinquishing those theatrical attitudes into which he is in the habit of throwing himself. In Exeter Hall yesterday, instead of confining himself to the little spot converted into a sort of pulpit for him, he walked about on the platform just as if he had been treading the boards of Drury Lane Theatre, while performing some exciting tragedy. We hope, however, that in these respects he will improve. It is with that view we give him our friendly counsels. He is quite an original preacher, and therefore will always draw large congregations, and, consequently, may be eminently made the means of doing great good to classes of persons who might never otherwise be brought within the sound of a faithfully preached Gospel. He has evidently made George Whitefield his model; and, like that unparalleled preacher, that prince of pulpit orators, is very fond of striking apostrophes. Like him, too, he has a powerful voice, which would, at times, be more pleasing, and not less impressive, were it not raised to so high a pitch."

It was admitted by Mr. Spurgeon's friends at this time that a man who had taken such a position as he had done was open to criticism. A magazine which consistently defended him remarked:—

"The pulpit and the forum alike invite attention, and challenge criticism; and so long as this test is legitimately and truthfully applied, no public character, if right-hearted, will shrink from its decisions. But if the criticism be made the vehicle of calumny, and if the censors of the Press, instead of employing their pens in commending excellencies, or in censuring and correcting faults, however severely, if fairly done, seek by detraction and falsehood to damage the reputation and lessen the usefulness of those whose efforts they decry, then do they degrade an otherwise honourable occupation into that of a dirty and despicable slanderer. Several of Mr. Spurgeon's critics, we regret to say, have thus disgraced themselves." The London correspondent of The Ipswich Express wrote a description of one of the services at New Park Street at this time, and besides making out that all the discourses were "redolent of bad taste, vulgar, and theatrical," gave a poor account of the preacher generally. Then came certain apocryphal anecdotes, one especially about a great number of worked slippers being received from young ladies. The editor of the Ipswich paper appears to have freely admitted letters in defence of the pastor, and correspondents indignantly denied what was false, while they gave evidence of truthfulness and zeal which was unanswerable. The story of the slippers was a well-worn fable which any shrewd journalist should have avoided. After all, fact was stranger than fiction in the case of Mr. Spurgeon; for as one friend, who had very generally attended the services, said:—

"The foot of the young pastor never trod the floor of schools or the halls of colleges; he boasts no birth, and has no pride of ancestry; but still, spite of this, his people increase, his church enlarges, his hearers become more numerous, and his ministrations are made more extensively useful; and now that he is placed upon a lofty eminence which he has 'won by the consistency of his character, the power of his preaching, the pure piety of his ministerial life, and the earnestness of his pastoral labours, the shafts of calumny and envy are showered on him thick and fast. So let it be; 'Thrice armed is he who hath his quarrel just,' and I trust Mr. Spurgeon will live to outlive it all."

While standing forth as a defender of Mr. Spurgeon, a certain provincial minister urged other friends to be more sober in their estimate of the preacher:—

"He neither possesses nor lays claim to such gigantic powers of mind as some have enthusiastically asserted. His greatness is his usefulness.... The extravagant encomiums bestowed upon him by some of his injudicious friends are as little approved by Mr. Spurgeon as the envenomed shafts of calumny hurled at him by unchristian assailants are effective for the purpose intended. Of the animus by which the latter are influenced, as well as of the success they are likely to realise, the fables of Old Father Æsop may serve strikingly to illustrate. The fox may contemn the grapes because they happen to be beyond his altitude, and the empoisoned fangs of the asp will only be damaged by the object on which it wreaks its envious rage." The writer of this letter recommended Mr. Spurgeon's opponents to leave off detraction, and to try instead to imitate their gifted brother in his "laborious and incessant efforts both as a pastor and an evangelist."

Sincere friends were sometimes candidly critical in these early days, however; and by way of illustration take this utterance:—

"We have it not in our hearts to criticise that which, on the whole, is so very excellent, and which, too, was meant only to benefit the souls of our fellow-immortals; else it would be very easy to discover and to direct attention to faults both as to style and taste. That they should exist to any extent is a great pity, as it is very evident if these defects were regarded by Mr. Spurgeon as matters of very great importance, he has only to exercise his own better judgment to render his discourses worthy the popularity he has so suddenly and, we think, also most justly acquired.

"We understand he has entered into an engagement with a publishing house of high respectability to prepare for publication a volume of sermons, for the copyright of which, rumour states, he is to receive a very extraordinary sum. Let Mr. Spurgeon follow his own intuitions, under the direction of the Holy Spirit, and he will speedily falsify the uncharitable predictions of envious and prejudiced critics; and thus, from a sacred afflatus, and the promptings of his own genius, he will not fail to take his place in the foremost rank of pulpit orators. May God long preserve him to the Church, and enable him to continue such utterances as those which are given forth in the Exeter Hall sermons."*

Some of the things said of Mr. Spurgeon in those days are not a little astonishing when read in the light of his subsequent career. To many the young preacher's popularity was quite an ephemeral thing, and only a very short time would be needed to finish up what was sensational in his adventurous course. To such people it was very much like a display of fireworks; the rocket might go up like a stream of fire, but the stick must inevitably come down in smoke and darkness. The preacher would find his level—the dull level of mediocrity—when his too ardent followers ceased like sheep to follow one another. At one service in a provincial town, a church official hoped that such a discourse as that by Mr. Spurgeon, who had just preached in the chapel, would not be accepted as a sample of the average preaching of the denominational ministers. For a time, even Mr. Binney looked upon Spurgeon as a young man who went up and down the country preaching in an incoherent manner. To others, he was an adventurer who talked more nonsense than truth, a man whose acquaintance with theology was no greater than his knowledge of English grammar. Then, what piquant anecdotes were told about him!—anecdotes that had done duty for more than one generation of eccentric ministers. Thus, it was said that to give expression to his satisfaction at the death of an obnoxious deacon, the pastor preached a funeral sermon for the worthy gentleman founded on the words, "And the beggar died." He was also reported to have slid down the pulpit balustrade to illustrate the ease of backsliding, and then to have sought to clamber up to emphasise the difficulty of recovery. What chiefly gave offence, however, was the new method of preaching which the Essex youth had introduced. Instead of humbly learning from his betters, Spurgeon, with his simple Saxon, was even presuming to teach them how the thing ought to be done. To many it appeared as though native impudence could not further go. The fact was, that a time of transition had come, and it was impossible to check the progress of events. The ill-success of the Russian war, and the intense sufferings of the allied armies in the Crimea, were teaching the people a lesson which they might be slow to learn, but which would be wholesome in the end. The abolition of the compulsory stamp on newspapers was also giving an impetus to the general diffusion of knowledge, especially as the paper duty would be sure to follow. More interest was also being shown in popular education. These things made it evident that such a pulpit phenomenon as the young pastor of New Park Street had appeared at an opportune time; but whether that was so or not, no adverse criticism, specious warning as regarded what was proper or improper, or even violent detraction, could stop the crowd from following one to whom they had taken a fancy. Much more was being effected than appeared on the surface to ordinary observers. Mr. Spurgeon had not only caught the popular ear to give the people the Gospel, he was sweeping away many things which had become sufficiently obsolete to be a hindrance rather than a help to ardent evangelists; and others would soon reap the good fruits of his wisdom and courage. If the late Rowland Hill looked on his large round chapel with satisfaction because Satan could not find a corner to hide in, was it not equally commendable in Spurgeon to be the first man who thought it a shame that the devil should have all the largest places in London and elsewhere? The Rev. Mark Guy Pearse has remarked on this subject:—

"If to-day we gather in St. James's Hall without prejudice or loss of sanctity, let us thankfully remember the bold hand that first opened the door of such places for such purposes. And if to-day preaching is no more 'as dying man to dying men,' but rather as living man to living men, who have got to get their living, and need all the grace of God to do it honestly and well, it is largely due to the courage and sanctified common sense of this blessed man." That was something to do; but Mr. Spurgeon could never have enjoyed the popularity he did from the first if it had not been for his character. Commanding as his talents were, his character became his chief passport to public favour. Hence the eminent Wesleyan preacher was able to add:—

"I cannot refrain from adding my testimony to the memory of this servant of God—a man greatly beloved. There is none living to whom I owe so much as to him. I have never taken up one of his sermons without finding my soul quickly aglow with love and praise. If, when I am dull and cast down, I begin to read something of his, it is to me what the harp of David was to the troubled soul of old. Many a time I have come to my work kindled with hope and ringing with praise, because God had spoken to me by the printed word of His servant. I loved and honoured him. To me he was another Luther—the same sturdy faith, the same fearless defiance, the same ready humour, the same love of all things bright and pure, the same simplicity and self-forgetfulness."

Mr. De Kewer Williams, who now ministers at Hackney, but who in 1855 was stationed at Tottenham, is able to tell some interesting things about the days when Mr. Spurgeon was commencing his ministry in London. During the summer of 1855 the young pastor preached for Mr. Williams in the then new Tottenham and Edmonton Chapel from the words, "To know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge." The congregation was a very full one, and among those who came were one or two Plymouth Brethren, who after the service remarked, "That young man will require great grace." "Just so; we all require it, if we did but know it," replied Mr. Williams. Not very long afterwards, the young pastor visited the Baptists of Tottenham, and during the sermon referred to various preachers and their ways in his own characteristic manner. He did more, however; for without knowing it he "took off" the excellent minister of the church in a way which must have not a little astonished the audience. The text on that occasion was, "Never man spake like this man"; and the advice given to preachers themselves was of a kind not likely to be forgotten by any who heard it. "What is the use of preaching the Gospel if people do not come to hear it?" was asked. It was then added, "I would preach in a red coat, or in any way, rather than have an empty chapel." Some time afterwards a sermon was preached at Deptford from the words, "We have seen the Lord"; and the people were asked if they had ever told Thomas such a thing as that. "There is a stuck-uppishness among us English people that prevents one man speaking to another on this all-important subject," said Mr. Spurgeon. "When I first joined a church I thought that Christian people must he brothers. I attended the Communion twice, but no one spoke to me; and I found out that numbers of fellow-Christians were brethren, but not brothers exactly." It was on this occasion that Mr. Williams met Mr. Spurgeon in the vestry with some others, and a certain Congregational minister, on joining the company, asked the latter if he would give a sermon at a chapel at Islington. The gentleman who asked this favour was incautious enough to add, "If you could come on Sunday it would be of most service to us, and I could take your place." We are told that "Mr. Spurgeon looked surprised" on hearing this novel proposition, but he at once gave a turn to the conversation and got out of the difficulty without giving any offence. He said, "You know, Mr. ------, if the devil were announced to give a discourse, and did not appear, but the archangel Gabriel, happening to be there, discoursed instead of him, the audience would not like it, because they did not come to hear him, you know." On Thursday, the last day of May, New Park Street Chapel was reopened after what was called "extensive enlargement." Mr. Sherman, the ex-pastor of Surrey Chapel, preached in the morning, and Mr. Spurgeon himself in the evening, when large numbers had to be turned away from the doors unable to obtain admission. On the first Sunday in June, 1855, therefore, pastor and people were again found assembling in Southwark; but, although New Park Street Chapel would accommodate about three hundred more hearers, the difficulty of dealing with the crowd was practically as great as before. To preach at Exeter Hall twice a week for about four months must have had the effect of making the preacher better known among the élite of society, however; and ramblers from the West-end would now be found crossing the Thames in still greater numbers to hear the youthful prodigy in Southwark. Pastor and congregation must now have been more than ever impressed with the fact that a new chapel would have to be provided. The sermons, which were by this time published regularly, stimulated the expression of opinion for and against the preacher which had begun in the previous summer. Despite the fact that he was a High Calvinist himself, Mr. Spurgeon's most violent detractors still appear to have been found among the more extreme members of that denomination. Hence we find a leader of that sect, who was more favourably disposed to the young preacher, warning his followers that they might possibly be found fighting against God in opposing him. "Therefore, brethren, be careful," he said. "Let us remember, also, that infidel Reasoners, Jesuits, Mormonites, and hosts of open enemies, are working hard to deceive men, to lead them on to the gates of death, and to cast contempt upon the glorious Gospel."

While people were disputing about the merits of Mr. Spurgeon, some writers protested against new preachers of Arminian sentiments being admitted into pulpits in which Calvinistic doctrines were preached. One of Mr. Wells's followers who went to New Park Street received somewhat of a severe shock when he found that Mr. Sherman, of Surrey Chapel, was actually held in favour by Mr. Spurgeon. "Still, I would by no means condemn the stripling," he charitably remarks. "He is young, soldier-like, full of zeal for his adorable Lord, and apparently desirous to spread abroad His mighty acts." The pastor of New Park Street was not the only one who indulged in such pulpit "matrimonial connections," however; and it was insisted by those who were disposed to deal fairly all round that people who dwelt in glass houses should not throw stones. "I have thought, for some time past, that many of those men who are so very forward in pointing out what they call errors in Mr. Spurgeon, are far more faulty than he is," says the writer just quoted; "and that it is (do pardon me for so saying) nothing but envy which makes them so spiteful as they are against the young man—his pulpit talents being so great. I should not wonder, if those gentlemen were narrowly watched in their preaching, that we should at times, at least, be shocked at their unsound sentiments" Still, although some might be found to be well disposed towards him, a large proportion of the High Calvinistic section ardently joined in the cry concerning Mr. Spurgeon, "It is a second-hand ministry, deeply tainted with an Arminian spirit." That the judgment of the public was different was proved by the increasing desire to hear the preacher, and by the large sale which his Exeter Hall discourses commanded when collected into a volume. Soon after the return to the enlarged chapel at New Park Street, or on the 19th of June, Mr. Spurgeon completed his twenty-first year, and this was celebrated by a special service, the sermon entitled "Pictures of Life" being published at twopence, accompanied with the first portrait of the young pastor that was ever engraved. The sale was large, but it is only with difficulty that a copy can now be obtained. The birthday discourse is founded on Jas 4:14 —"What is your life?" The opening refers to the swiftness of existence on earth. To the youth entering upon the world, life might seem to be long, but to the aged who were finishing their course, it was ever short. It was a span when compared with the ages of the universe, or a drop when compared to the ocean. Then follows this characteristic passage:—

"Life is swift. If you would picture life you must turn to the Bible, and this evening we will walk through the Bible-gallery of old paintings. You will find its swiftness spoken of in the book of Job, where we are furnished with three illustrations. In the ninth chapter and at the twenty-fifth verse we find, 'Now my days are swifter than a post.' We are most of us acquainted with the swiftness of post-conveyance. I have sometimes, on emergency, taken post-horses where there has been no railway, and have been amused and pleased with the rapidity of my journey. But since, in this ancient book, there can be no allusion to modern posts, we must turn to the manners and customs of the East, and in so doing we find that the ancient monarchs astonished their subjects by the amazing rapidity with which they received intelligence. By well-ordered arrangements, swift horses and constant relays, they were able to attain a speed which, although trifling in these days, was in those slower ages a marvel of marvels; so that to an Eastern, one of the greatest ideas of swiftness was that of a post. Well doth Job say our life is like a post. We ride one year until it is worn out, but there comes another just as swift, and we are borne by it, and it is gone, and another year serves us for a steed; post-house after post-house we pass, as birthdays successively arrive; we loiter not, but vaulting at a leap from one year to another, still we hurry onward, onward, onward still. My life is like a post; and not like the slow waggon that drags along the road with tiresome wheels, but, like a post, it attains the greatest speed."

Other illustrations of the swiftness of life were given, after which something was said about its uncertainty. What was life other than a vapour? In speaking of its changes, the preacher compared it to a pilgrimage, as the patriarch Jacob had done in his day.

"That hoary-headed patriarch, when he was asked by Pharaoh what was his age, replied, 'The days of the years of my pilgrimage are an hundred and thirty years. Few and evil have the days of the years of my life been, and have not attained unto the days of the years of the life of my fathers in the days of their pilgrimage!' He calls life a pilgrimage. A pilgrim sets out in the morning, and he has to journey many a day before he gets to the shrine which he seeks. What varied scenes the traveller will behold on his way. Sometimes he will be on the mountains, anon he will descend into the valleys; here he will be where the brooks shine like silver, where the birds warble, where the air is balmy, and the trees are green, and luscious fruits hang down to gratify his taste; anon he will find himself in the arid desert, where no life is found, and no sound is heard, except the screech of the wild eagle in the air, where he finds no rest for the sole of his foot—the burning sky above him, and the hot sand beneath him—no roof-tree and no house to rest himself; at another time he finds himself in a sweet oasis, resting himself by the wells of water, and plucking fruit from palm-trees. One moment he walks between the rocks in some narrow gorge, where all is darkness; at another time he ascends the hill Mizar; now he descends into the valley of Baca; anon he climbs the hill of Bashan, 'a high hill is the hill Bashan'; and yet again going into a den of leopards, he suffers trial and affliction. Such is life—ever changing. Who can tell what may come next? To-day it is fair, the next day there may be the thundering storm; to-day I may want for nothing, to-morrow I may be like Jacob, with nothing but a stone for my pillow, and the heavens for my curtains. But what a happy thought it is; though we know not where the road winds, we know where it ends. It is the straightest way to heaven to go round about. Israel's forty years' wanderings were, after all, the nearest path to Canaan. We may have to go through trial and affliction; the pilgrimage may be a tiresome one, but it is safe; we cannot trace the river upon which we are sailing, but we know it ends in floods of bliss at last. We cannot track the roads, but we know that they all meet in the great metropolis of heaven, in the centre of God's universe. God help us to pursue the true pilgrimage of a pious life!" As regards the changes of life, the words of David are quoted—"We spend our years as a tale that is told"; and then occurs a passage which gives some of the preacher's own experience:—

"Now David understood about tales that were told; 1 daresay he had been annoyed by them sometimes. There are in the East professed story-tellers, who amuse their hearers by inventing tales such as those in that foolish book, the 'Arabian Nights.' When I was foolish enough to read that book, I remember sometimes you were with fairies, sometimes with genii, sometimes in palaces, anon you went down into caverns. All sorts of things are conglomerated into what they call a tale. Now, says David, 'we spend our years as a tale that is told.' You know there is nothing so wonderful as the history of the odds and ends of human life. Sometimes it is a merry rhyme, sometimes a prosy subject; sometimes you ascend to the sublime, soon you descend to the ridiculous. No man can write the whole of his biography; I suppose if the history of a man's thoughts and words could be written, scarce the world itself would contain the words that should be written, so wonderful is the tale that is told. Our lives are all singular, and must to ourselves seem strange, of which much might be said. Our life is 'as a tale that is told.'" The discourse closed with some allusions to the end of life, the words of Samuel being quoted—"Water that is spilt upon the ground, and cannot be gathered up again":—

"Man is like a great icicle, which the sun of time is constantly thawing, and which is soon to be water spilt upon the ground that cannot be gathered up. Who can recall the departed spirit, or inflate the lungs with a new breath of life? Who can put vitality into the heart, and restore the soul from Hades? None. It cannot be gathered up. The place shall know it no more for ever. But here a sweet thought charms us. This water cannot be lost, but it shall descend into the soil to filter through the Rock of Ages, at last to spring up a pure fountain in heaven, cleansed, purified, and made clear as crystal. How terrible if, on the other hand, it should percolate the black earth of sin, and hang in horrid drops in the dark caverns of destruction!"

It was also during this year that Mr. Spurgeon once more took up the pen, which he may not have felt encouraged to use as an author since his little essay on "Antichrist and her Brood" had failed to win Mr. Arthur Morley's prize. This time he came out as a journalist, The Christian Cabinet, to which he lent his aid weekly for nearly a whole year, being the first penny paper of the kind ever published in England. "Although on the one hand the Press was so mighty an agent for diffusing light," we find it remarked, "it has also proved too often a means of spreading darkness and error, and it was to check in some measure the growth of this evil that Mr. Banks bent all his powers in starting The Christian Cabinet and other religious papers, which he fondly hoped would counteract the influence of more doubtful literature." The late Charles Waters Banks became pastor of the ancient congregation at Unicorn Yard, Tooley Street, in the same year that Mr. Spurgeon settled in London. Mr. Banks was a very able man; he looked upon the mission of the Press with genuine enthusiasm; and although he belonged to the High Calvinists, he entertained the most profound respect for Mr. Spurgeon. The young pastor never went over to the denomination of his more elderly friend, but as regarded aggressive Christian work, both were heartily agreed. Mr. Banks was an advocate of open-air preaching and of general mission work; but to certain professors of the more extreme type, all such enterprise savoured of legalism. One such was somewhat shocked when in New Park Street Chapel he heard some allusions to what it was proposed to do for the surrounding neighbourhood in the way of Christian work. That of course stamped the pastor as a man whose tendencies were towards legalism. Nevertheless, through good report and evil report, the work went bravely forward. In the summer of Mr. Spurgeon's second year in London, he and his people undertook Home Mission service in earnest, the chief centre being the Southwark Mission

Hall, opened in connection with the chapel. An effort like this naturally looked like something savouring of legalism to persons who held extreme views; but Mr. Banks sympathised with such enterprises quite as heartily as Mr. Spurgeon did himself. In July, 1855, Mr. Spurgeon took a journey to the North, and visited Scotland for the first time. He appears to have called at various great towns on the road. On a Sunday morning at Bradford he preached in the Music Hall to a congregation which included a thousand more persons than could have been got into Exeter Hall; but quite as many went away unable to gain admission as were admitted. In the evening the excitement rose still higher; the streets around the music-hall were thronged, while the great building itself was so closely packed that the preacher was scarcely able to move about sufficiently while giving his sermon. A similar experience was passed through at Stockton-on-Tees. At Edinburgh there were great crowds at Queen Street Hall, although the heavy rain would probably have damped the ardour of many if the attraction had been any other preacher. At Glasgow there were, if possible, still greater crowds; and in that commercial metropolis of Scotland the newspapers devoted much space to reports of the sermons and to articles on the preacher. The Glasgow Examiner acquitted itself creditably while endeavouring to give an impartial estimate of Mr. Spurgeon's methods and genius. People might put him down as an empiric because he had courage enough to leave the old-time routine to beat out a path for himself; but such daring had been characteristic of the greatest reformers ever known, from the Apostle Paul down to the sixteenth-century veterans Luther and Knox. It was not necessarily a mark of originality or of exceptional talent to leave the beaten track; but it might be advisable to do so:—

"Routine in religious services is extremely liable to beget a listless, lukewarm compliance with prescribed forms, while the spirit or animus gradually subsides. The preacher speaks his usual time; the people sit patiently enough perhaps; a few may even listen; the usual number of verses are sung and the business of the day is over; there is generally no more about it. No one can deny that this is neither more nor less than a simple statement of the real state of matters in the majority of our churches at the present day. Should the preacher sharpen his intellect with a sprinkling of snuff, let fall his handkerchief on the Psalm-book, or give one thump louder than usual with the fist ecclesiastic, that will be noted, remembered, and commented on, while there is all but total oblivion of the subject and the nature of the discussion. To break up this deadening process, to shake the dry bones and make them live, ought to be the great aim of the preacher of the present day; but it is not everyone who can do it. Affectation of manner or style won't do it; talent, we may say genius, of a peculiar nature is required; and we have no hesitation in saying that Mr. Spurgeon possesses the requisites in an unusual degree."

Nevertheless, it seemed to be quite a legitimate thing for sensible persons to regard with some misgiving certain of the "un-canonical expressions of this young preacher"; and even if they found themselves calling him a quack or an empiric they were to be excused; for had not common report spoken of this youth's unsystematic training and native boldness? Still, there was something in him, the success of his ministry was a fact "that could not be stifled with a sneer." Why was he so successful?

"It could not be any novelty in the theme itself, as there were thousands of preachers and millions of books and tracts dilating on it before Mr. Spurgeon made his appearance; it could not be any new doctrine, for this was the same as John Calvin, and preached by all the evangelical denominations around him; neither could it be his youth, as there are in the churches of Britain scores of preachers as young as he is; neither could it be the few outré sentences that were scattered through the discourses, for there are many in London who say stranger and odder things than any that he has yet uttered."

Reference is then made to the character of the average congregations which Mr. Spurgeon drew together; and these are set down as "fair examples of the respectable church-going community, perfectly capable of judging rationally on all subjects that engross public attention." Looking back on those days, and remembering what kind of a figure Mr. Spurgeon made in the world at that remarkable period in his history, I do not regard such an estimate of his influence as being in any wise a correct one. The striking thing about the young preacher in the early years of his unique career was the fact that his influence extended far beyond "the respectable church-going community." "The profound, the ignorant, and the illiterate, the light-hearted and frivolous young people of the metropolis," were not only the exceptions among the many who heard the Gospel from his lips, the classes who seem to be outside of the church altogether were attracted in large numbers. The youth from Waterbeach became a phenomenon to such as well as to more sober-minded people. His name became a household word in the by-streets of working-class neighbourhoods; and people who were strangers at public worship went to "hear Spurgeon" just as they would have gone after any other novelty. In this respect Glasgow did not differ from London; for the immense audiences which are reported to have been spell-bound at the services were really made up of all classes and ages, as was the case in England, and proper account should have been taken of such a speaking fact. It is acknowledged that his later sermons were better than those which had gone before. What, then, was the secret of such uncommon success? The Glasgow Examiner gave these reasons:—

"In the first place, there is about him that hearty, open, English frankness which has no hesitation in giving full and free utterance to its opinions, loves, and dislikes. There is the ready, acute perception which never fails to bring out fresh and striking illustrations from any text on which the attention is directed. Again, there is an extensive acquaintance with literature, which, by the aid of a retentive memory, can at a moment's notice furnish the speaker with choice and appropriate material. And lastly, there is a power of voice, and volubility of utterance, which enable him to get on with great care, and at the same time to give powerful effect to his sentiments. We may have heard many preachers who could reason more correctly and profoundly, who displayed more classical elegance and polish, but we have not heard one who can more powerfully arrest the attention, and carry the sympathies of an audience along with him." The critic dealt with the discourses as he found them, and it was thought that if readers who looked through the reports did the same, they would see little in them to which they would take exception. Still, he was too original in his method to please everybody:—

"Those who think that preaching the Gospel is the harping on one or two cardinal points, or the repetition of some favourite dogma in language strictly ecclesiastical, must be offended with the freedom, independence, and variety of the preacher's style and thoughts. Instead of limiting himself to commonplace illustrations, he opens his eyes on nature, on science, on society, and gathers from them all that he reckons suitable to illumine his subject. Instead of confining himself to the language of the schools, and of divines and theologians, he ransacks all the stores of literature, and reckons not a sentence disqualified to take a place in his discourse because it was coined or used by a Shakespeare, a Scott, a Johnson, or even a Burns. Language hitherto reckoned fit only for plays, novels, and songs is seized by this preacher, and oftentimes most ingeniously and aptly brought into his discussions. We do not inquire whether in every case the sentiments and language are appropriate, but refer to the fact that such is his independence that he, with equal freedom, selects from sacred writers; and such is his miraculous power of assimilation, that what would come from others as a motley, incoherent mass, becomes in his hand unique, complete, and beautiful." The arrangement of his discourses was thought to be good, although he used no notes; and although he made much of doctrines, such teaching—that of an ordinary Calvinist—was thought to be essential. Mr. Spurgeon's prayers had been described as "irreverent, presumptuous, and blasphemous"; but nothing of the kind had been noticed by his Glasgow critic. "On the contrary, they were correct, appropriate, and beautiful. He certainly has not followed the usual pulpit style, but has opened his eyes on the state of society in all its forms and phases, and adapted his confessions, and petitions, and thanksgivings. He confesses the peculiar sins of the times, as well as the inherent and changeless depravity of man's nature; the sins of the parlour, of the counting-house, and public assembly; the sins of individuals, families, and nations. He offers petitions for various classes and characters—for the profligate and careless, for the old, the young, and for little children; petitions for churches, for nations, for the world, all in a somewhat novel manner. While he gives thanks for special blessings, and employs language which none but the genuine believer can appropriate, and which even he must sometimes acknowledge with hesitancy, he forgets not the common benefits which all share, and the common blessings with which all are crowned."

Hence the keen observers of Glasgow, with whom the young preacher now came in contact for the first time, were not able to detect any of the "undue familiarities" or the "daring impieties" with which some others had charged him. They thus learned what many others learned in time, that the Spurgeon of the newspapers and the Spurgeon of real life were not always identical. Instead of all the objectionable things which had been so industriously reported concerning the preacher, the truth now turned out to be that he was characterised by "an earnestness, an unction, a fluency, and an urgency, which are but too seldom imitated." The reading of the Scriptures with the exposition was thought to be quite as good as the preaching, the attention given to tone and emphasis being especially observable. There were those who preferred to have the Bible read without running comments; but even to such there would be nothing objectionable in Mr. Spurgeon's methods. His preaching is then described:—

"Some preachers owe much to their personnel in the pulpit. Before they open their mouths, there is something about them which causes a sort of awe and respect to creep over the audience. The appearance of this preacher may be said to be interesting rather than commanding. He is quite a youth, and his countenance boyish. He is under, rather than over, the middle size, and has few or none of the physical advantages of the orator in his appearance. But what he lacks in appearance he has in reality. Soon as he commences to speak, tones of richest melody are heard. A voice full, sweet, and musical falls on every ear, and awakens agreeable emotions in every soul in which there is a sympathy for sounds. That most excellent of voices is under perfect control, and can whisper or thunder at the wish of its possessor. And there is poetry in every feature and every movement, as well as music in the voice. The countenance speaks—the entire form sympathises. The action is in complete unison with the sentiments, and the eye listens scarcely less than the ear to the sweetly flowing oratory. But among the thirty thousand English preachers, and the three thousand Scotch ones, there are many sweet voices as well as this, and many who have studied the art of speaking with the greatest assiduity, and yet they fail to attract an audience. Mr. Spurgeon is more than a 'voice crying'; he has rare powers of observation, recollection, assimilation, and creation. His field of observation is wide and varied. He seems to have opened his eyes to nature in all its varieties, to science in all its discoveries, and to literature in all its departments. Everything which the eye of man can look upon, or the ear hear, seems to have made an indelible impression on his mental powers. The impression is not only distinctly made, but ineradicably maintained. Every mountain, every valley, every book, every sentence, which has once come in his way, becomes for ever fixed in his recollection. And not only fixed, but becomes the material on which marvellous powers of assimilation vigorously operate. Out of the forms of beauty which his eyes see, other still lovelier forms are created. The loveliest natural landscape is adorned with additional beauty by the aid of a refined and chastened fancy. The thoughts that have come floating down the long bygone ages are placed in the crucible of his mind, and, purged of the objectionable, come out bearing his own image and superscription. There is evidently in him great power of assimilative genius, and occasional indications of even a higher order of genius—even that which creates fresh and new forms of beauty which bear the distinct mark of his own mind."

Glasgow was the preacher's headquarters during this visit to the North, and the largest congregations ever gathered in the Scottish commercial metropolis are said to have been drawn together at this time. On Sunday, July 15, morning service took place in Dr. Patterson's church, Hope Street, and that of the evening in Dr. Wardlaw's chapel in West George Street. Mr. Spurgeon was greatly charmed with the scenery of Scotland as he proceeded on his way. He went northward to Perth, Dunkeld, and Aberfeldy; and while viewing the rocks at the last-named place he is said to have clapped his hands for joy at such a manifestation of the power of God. He did not succeed in awakening any of the Highland enthusiasm, however. At Aberfeldy the bellman went round to summon a congregation in characteristic fashion. "Your auld playmate and auld acquaintance, Shony Carstairs, wants to see you all at the Independent Chapel at seven o'clock, to hear my dear friend, the Rev. C. H. Spurgeon, preach. Mind, he has come five hundred miles to tell you something for your good, and the Rev. C. H. Spurgeon and myself expect you all to come and give us a hearty shake hands." There was plenty of snuff-taking during the sermon, and immediately the benediction was pronounced there was a rush for the door, when the popular preacher and his friend, Shony Carstairs, had the building to themselves.

What seems also to have struck observers at this time was the fact that the young preacher had not been unduly lifted up by his success. With such vast crowds at his feet, anxious to listen to what he had to say, there was some danger of others being led to the footstool of God in penitence without the preacher himself partaking of the same spirit. Perhaps it was well for him at that early date that he had violent detractors as well as enthusiastic admirers. The two extremes of opinion were continually finding expression in the public journals. It was therefore remarked, "He has been denounced as mean in stature, inexpressive in countenance, and contemptible in intellect. On the same day his personnel has been extolled as attractive, his intellectual power tremendous, and his oratory overwhelming. He has heard voices innumerable denouncing him, and voices innumerable admiring him. Many a pen has been dipped in gall by jealous rivals, and many a pen in honey by generous critics." The result seems to have been that the preacher did not think of himself too highly or too lowly. He was conscious of his own power; but while he knew that he was not so mean a mediocrity as numbers insisted, he seems to have had no temptation to exalt himself. Thus early he was without doubt a wonderful example of the power of the grace of God to keep a man from sinking down into a state of pride. There are those who think that in after-life Mr. Spurgeon's frequent illnesses were a kind of necessary thorn in the flesh to keep him humble; but in the halcyon days of youth, when his health was perfect, there seems to have been no danger of his falling into that condition of pride which would have destroyed his usefulness. Even thus early, if he did not do so in all cases, he frequently refused fees for preaching.

Before he returned home from this tour, Mr. Spurgeon was at one time in danger of drowning on the Clyde. "I crossed the Clyde in a ferry," he remarked himself; "the man who had the management of the boat had taken 'a wee drap of the cratur,' and was not able to manage it at all, and had put twenty-six persons into a boat that ought to have contained far less. I have been informed by one or two ladies that report was current that I was thrown into the water and fished up by the hair of my head. Now, that was not so. We were simply in danger, but by a little management and expostulation, which was resented by oaths and curses, we came safe to land." A trip was made to Lake Windermere in the course of this excursion. In every town visited immense crowds were attracted, the climax being reached at Glasgow, when on one occasion twenty thousand persons were said to have been unable to gain admission to one service. In his early days Mr. Spurgeon would occasionally see a contrast to this awakening of the congregation of a whole city. He did not always have an overflowing audience; but that did not happen on account of want of popularity, it rather came about because he was too popular. Thus, when he visited Enfield, the then little chapel at Chaseside was nearly empty because people stayed away in order to avoid the crush which was supposed to be inevitable. There was also one elderly dame living near who stayed away on principle, because she could not conscientiously encourage the young man's vanity. A correspondent of The Freeman, who remembers Mr. Spurgeon as he was at New Park Street during the first months of work in London, says the congregation was then "mainly a juvenile audience," as the preacher had not yet been "quite 'received' by the church at large." The impression produced is vividly remembered. "The pulpit was then the old-fashioned one, entered by a staircase from the vestry, the door being closed behind, as was the fashion at an. early period," it is remarked; and it is added that "his action was much too lively to be confined to the limits of the pulpit, and he occasionally sat upon the side of it as one would do on the bulwark of a ship." His success appears to have silenced those students who maintained that sermons needed to be read. On one occasion, in preaching from Ecc 9:4, "For a living dog is better than a dead lion," he remarked, "Now, if I had said this I should be accused of coarseness and vulgarity." The lessons or conclusions he drew from his subject are said to have been always serious and practical. "The Emperor of Russia was then lying dead, and I remarked to him what use he might have made by the comparison," says this early friend. "'Why didn't you tell me?' he replied with energy; of course my only answer was that I was not previously, let into the secret of the discourse." Another early sermon, which is said to have produced a deep impression, was founded on Lev 19:19, "Neither shall a garment mingled of linen and woollen come upon thee." Many of these discourses which were thus memorable, and are even still remembered, were never printed. On a certain weekday afternoon he preached for a Baptist society from 1Co 14:8, "For if the trumpet give an uncertain sound, who shall prepare himself to the battle?" He then said some trenchant things against Arminianism; and it was on this occasion that the late Dr. Binney made the remark which was long remembered, "He is the most impudent young rascal I ever heard in my life." There were staid persons who gave the preacher some very proper advice. "Take care, you are a very young man." Mr. Spurgeon's reply was, "Who were the great sinners, the old or the young, as given in Holy Writ? There were Noah, Lot, David, etc.; therefore, I say, 'Take care, old man.'"

One rule observed at this time, that is, not to attempt to answer adverse critics, was adhered to throughout life; and this, no doubt, preserved Spurgeon from much irritation. Perhaps, however, some little trouble might have been taken in contradicting erroneous statements or anecdotes, but even these were allowed to go on their way unchallenged. Many things which had thus no foundation in truth may have been accepted as fact. Thus, for years it was circulated in Mr. Spurgeon's "Life," issued by his own publishers, that there had been only four pastors at Stambourne in two hundred years; and the four was not corrected into eight until "Memories of Stambourne" appeared. In the course of some interesting reminiscences of Mr. Spurgeon in The Christian Union of New York, Dr. Wayland Hoyt makes some references to the great preacher's early days, which may be given in this place:—

"With Mr. Spurgeon religion was never in the least anything put on. It was always a steady and pervasive influence and colour, flushing everything. I never met a man who was so absolutely free from cant. I never met a man whose tongue so thoroughly refused to run over the routine and usual religious phrases. In everything he said and in everything he did there was the completest naturalness. I was walking with him in the woods one day just outside of London, and, as we strolled under the shadow of the summer foliage, we came upon a log lying athwart the path. 'Come,' said he, as naturally as one would say it were he hungry and bread were put before him, 'come, let us pray.' And, kneeling beside the log, he lifted his soul to the Lord in the most loving, outpouring, and yet reverent prayer. Then, rising from his knees as naturally, he went strolling on, talking about this and that. The prayer was no parenthesis interjected. It was something that belonged as much to the habit of his mind as breathing did to the habit of his body.... Mr. Spurgeon was a man of the most singular ability of self-marshalling and self-control. In this respect he always reminded me of Mr. Beecher. He seemed to be absolutely sure of himself for any moment, for any occasion.... His pulpit preparations were always just before each service. He once said to me that if he were appointed to preach on some great occasion six months beforehand, he should not think at all of preparation for the duty until just as the time struck—he would occupy himself about other things. This surprising power of quick self-control and marshalling of powers gave him a perpetual consciousness of ease. He had never the fear that he would not be equal to the time. He knew that when the moment came he would be ready; so, instead of being strained and anxious, his mind was in a beautiful openness for whatever might flow in upon it. And yet, especially in his earlier years, after his preparation had been made, and just as he was about to confront the throngs he knew were gathering to listen to him, he used to have the most fearful nervous anxiety, almost convulsions. He told me once that for years and years in his early ministry he never preached but that he had had beforehand the most straining time of vomiting. His stomach was able to retain absolutely nothing. In later years he vanquished this nervous tendency. Nothing was more delightful about Mr. Spurgeon than his evident childlike faith. That God should do great things for him through him, seemed to him to be as much expected as that a mother should meet the necessities of her child. He had been telling me once about the amount of money he must disburse in order to sustain his various enterprises. We stopped talking for a little, and I sat looking at him. He was as unconcerned as is a little child holding its mother's hand. There were no lines upon his brow, there was no shadow of anxiety upon his face, only the large, good-natured English smile. I was thinking of the orphans he must feed, the old Christian women he must care for, the professors' salaries in his Pastors' College he must pay, the students he must supply with teaching, many of them with bread and clothing, since they were too poor to buy these for themselves. I said to him in a kind of wonder, 'How can you be so easy-minded? Do not these responsibilities come upon you sometimes with a kind of crushing weight?' He looked at me with a sort of holy amazement, and answered, 'No; the Lord is a good banker. I trust Him. He has never failed me. Why should I be anxious?'" In his young days, as in his maturer years, Mr. Spurgeon won favour by having about him no airs of the "great man"; and the attention he would show to the poor of "the household of faith" was all along characteristic. When out preaching, I have heard of his choosing to go and drink tea with very poor people whom he happened to know, rather than be entertained at the mansion where he was expected. When he visited Ponders End as a very young man, he passed much of the time between the services with a bedridden aged Christian in South Street, with whom he sat and conversed while his congregation was being regaled at a tea-meeting. Such things more than answered the adverse criticisms to which he was subjected.