CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.
A STRANGE VISIT AND ITS RESULTS.
Edward Frog, bird-fancier, pugilist, etcetera, (and the etceterarepresents an unknown quantity), has changed somewhat like the rest, fora few years have thinned the short-cropped though once curly locks abovehis knotted forehead, besides sprinkling them with grey. But in otherrespects he has not fallen off--nay he has rather improved, owing to thepeculiar system of diet and discipline and regularity of life to which,during these years, he has been subjected.
When Ned returned from what we may style his outing, he went straight tothe old court with something like a feeling of anxiety in his heart, butfound the old home deserted and the old door, which still bore deepmarks of his knuckle, on the upper panels and his boots on the lower,was padlocked. He inquired for Mrs Frog, but was told she had left theplace long ago,--and no one knew where she had gone.
With a heavy heart Ned turned from the door and sauntered away,friendless and homeless. He thought of making further inquiries abouthis family, but at the corner of the street smelt the old shop that hadswallowed up so much of his earnings.
"If I'd on'y put it all in the savin's bank," he said bitterly, stoppingin front of the gin-palace, "I'd 'ave bin well off to-day."
An old comrade turned the corner at that moment.
"What! Ned Frog!" he cried, seizing his hand and shaking it withgenuine goodwill. "Well, this _is_ good luck. Come along, old boy!"
It was pleasant to the desolate man to be thus recognised. He wentalong like an ox to the slaughter, though, unlike the ox, he knew wellwhat he was going to.
He was "treated." He drank beer. Other old friends came in. He drankgin. If good resolves had been coming up in his mind earlier in the dayhe forgot them now. If better feelings had been struggling for themastery, he crushed them now. He got drunk. He became disorderly. Hewent into High Street, Whitechapel, with a view to do damage tosomebody. He succeeded. He tumbled over a barrow, and damaged his ownshins. He encountered Number 666 soon after, and, through hisinfluence, passed the night in a police cell.
After this Ned gave up all thought of searching for his wife and family.
"Better let 'em alone," he growled to himself on being discharged fromthe police-office with a caution.
But, as we have said or hinted elsewhere, Ned was a man of iron will.He resolved to avoid the public-house, to drink in moderation, and to dohis drinking at home. Being as powerful and active as ever he had been,he soon managed, in the capacity of a common labourer, to scrape enoughmoney together to enable him to retake his old garret, which chanced tobe vacant. Indeed its situation was so airy, and it was so undesirable,that it was almost always vacant. He bought a few cages and birds;found that the old manager of the low music-hall was still at work andready to employ him, and thus fell very much into his old line of life.
One night, as he was passing into his place of business--themusic-hall--a man saw him and recognised him. This was a citymissionary of the John Seaward type, who chanced to be fishing for soulsthat night in these troubled waters. There are many such fishermenabout, thank God, doing their grand work unostentatiously, and not onlyrescuing souls for eternity, but helping, more perhaps than even thebest informed are aware of, to save London from tremendous evil.
What it was in Ned Frog that attracted this man of God we know note but,after casting his lines for some hours in other places, he returned tothe music-hall and loitered about the door.
At a late hour its audience came pouring out with discordant cries andribald laughter. Soon Ned appeared and took his way homeward. Themissionary followed at a safe distance till he saw Ned disappear throughthe doorway that led to his garret. Then, running forward, he enteredthe dark passage and heard Ned's heavy foot clanking on the stone stepsas he mounted upwards.
The sound became fainter, and the missionary, fearing lest he shouldfail to find the room in which his man dwelt--for there were many roomsin the old tenement--ran hastily up-stairs and paused to listen. Thefootsteps were still sounding above him, but louder now, because Ned wasmounting a wooden stair. A few seconds later a heavy door was banged,and all was quiet.
The city missionary now groped his way upwards until he came to thehighest landing, where in the thick darkness he saw a light under adoor. With a feeling of uncertainty and a silent prayer for help heknocked gently. The door was opened at once by a middle-aged woman,whose outline only could be seen, her back being to the light.
"Is it here that the man lives who came up just now?" asked themissionary.
"What man?" she replied, fiercely, "I know nothink about men, an' 'avenothink to do with 'em. Ned Frog's the on'y man as ever comes 'ere, an'_he_ lives up there."
She made a motion, as if pointing upwards somewhere, and banged the doorin her visitor's face.
"Up there!" The missionary had reached the highest landing, and saw noother gleam of light anywhere. Groping about, however, his hand struckagainst a ladder. All doubt as to the use of this was immediatelybanished, for a man's heavy tread was heard in the room above as hecrossed it.
Mounting the ladder, the missionary, instead of coming to a higherlanding as he had expected, thrust his hat against a trap-door in theroof. Immediately he heard a savage human growl. Evidently the man wasin a bad humour, but the missionary knocked.
"Who's there?" demanded the man, fiercely, for his visitors were few,and these generally connected with the police force.
"May I come in?" asked the missionary in a mild voice--not that he putthe mildness on for the occasion. He was naturally mild--additionallyso by grace.
"Oh! yes--you may come in," cried the man, lifting the trap-door.
The visitor stepped into the room and was startled by Ned letting fallthe trap-door with a crash that shook the whole tenement. Plantinghimself upon it, he rendered retreat impossible.
It was a trying situation, for the man was in a savage humour, andevidently the worse for drink. But missionaries are bold men.
"Now," demanded Ned, "what may _you_ want?"
"I want your soul," replied his visitor, quietly.
"You needn't trouble yourself, then, for the devil's got it already."
"No--he has not got it _yet_, Ned."
"Oh! you know me then?"
"No. I never saw you till to-night, but I learned your nameaccidentally, and I'm anxious about your soul."
"You don't know me," Ned repeated, slowly, "you never saw me tillto-night, yet you're anxious about my soul! What stuff are you talkin'!'Ow can that be?"
"Now, you have puzzled _me_," said the missionary. "I cannot tell howthat can be, but it is no `stuff' I assure you. I think it probable,however, that your own experience may help you. Didn't you once see ayoung girl whom you had never seen before, whom you didn't know, whomyou had never even heard of, yet you became desperately anxious to winher?"
Ned instantly thought of a certain woman whom he had often abused andbeaten, and whose heart he had probably broken.
"Yes," he said, "I did; but then I had falled in love wi' her at firstsight, and you can't have falled in love wi' _me_, you know."
Ned grinned at this idea in spite of himself.
"Well, no," replied the missionary, "not exactly. You're not a verylovable object to look at just now. Nevertheless, I _am_ anxious aboutyour soul _at first sight_. I can't tell how it is, but so it is."
"Come, now," said Ned, becoming suddenly stern. "I don't believe inyour religion, or your Bible, or your prayin' and psalm-singin'. I tellyou plainly, I'm a infidel. But if you can say anything in favour o'your views, fire away; I'll listen, only don't let me have any o' yoursing-songin' or whinin', else I'll kick you down the trap-door and downthe stair an' up the court and out into the street--speak out, like aman."
"I will speak as God the Holy Spirit shall enable me," returned themissionary, without the slightest change in tone or manner.
"Well, then, sit down," said Ned, pointing to the only c
hair in theroom, while he seated himself on the rickety table, which threatened togive way altogether, while the reckless man swung his right leg to andfro quite regardless of its complainings.
"Have you ever studied the Bible?" asked the missionary, somewhatabruptly.
"Well, no, of course not. I'm not a parson, but I have read a bit hereand there, an' it's all rubbish. I don't believe a word of it."
"There's a part of it," returned the visitor, "which says that Godmaketh his rain to fall on the just and on the unjust. Do you notbelieve that?"
"Of course I do. A man can't help believin' that, for he sees it--itfalls on houses, fields, birds and beasts as well."
"Then you _do_ believe a word of it?"
"Oh! come, you're a deal too sharp. You know what I mean."
"No," said his visitor, quickly, "I don't quite know what you mean. Onewho professes to be an infidel professes more or less intelligentdisbelief in the Bible, yet you admit that you have never studied thebook which you profess to disbelieve--much less, I suppose, have youstudied the books which give us the evidences of its truth."
"Don't suppose, Mr parson, or missioner, or whatever you are," saidNed, "that you're goin' to floor me wi' your larnin'. I'm too old abird for that. Do you suppose that I'm bound to study everything on theface o' the earth like a lawyer before I'm entitled to say I don'tbelieve it. If I see that a thing don't work well, that's enough for meto condemn it."
"You're quite right there. I quite go with that line of reasoning. Bytheir fruits shall ye know them. A man don't usually go to a thistle tofind grapes. But let me ask you, Ned, do you usually find thatmurderers, drunkards, burglars, thieves, and blackguards in general arestudents of the Bible and given to prayer and psalm-singing?"
"Ha! ha! I should rather think not," said Ned, much tickled by thesupposition.
"Then," continued the other, "tell me, honestly, Ned, do you find thatpeople who read God's Word and sing His praise and ask His blessing onall they do, are generally bad fathers, and mothers, and masters, andservants, and children, and that from their ranks come the worst peoplein society?"
"Now, look here, Mr missioner," cried Ned, leaping suddenly from thetable, which overturned with a crash, "I'm one o' them fellers that'snot to be floored by a puff o' wind. I can hold my own agin most menwi' fist or tongue. But I like fair-play in the ring or in argiment. Ihave _not_ studied this matter, as you say, an' so I won't speak on it.But I'll look into it, an' if you come back here this day three weeksI'll let you know what I think. You may trust me, for when I say athing I mean it."
"Will you accept a Testament, then," said the missionary, rising andpulling one out of his pocket.
"No, I won't," said Ned, "I've got one."
The missionary looked surprised, and hesitated.
"Don't you believe me?" asked Ned, angrily.
"At first I did not," was the reply, "but now that I stand before yourface and look in your eyes I _do_ believe you."
Ned gave a cynical laugh. "You're easy to gull," he said; "why, when itserves my purpose I can lie like a trooper."
"I know that," returned the visitor, quietly, "but it serves yourpurpose to-night to speak the truth. I can see that. May I pray thatGod should guide you?"
"Yes, you may, but not here. I'll have no hypocritical goin' down on myknees till I see my way to it. If I don't see my way to it, I'll letyou know when you come back this day three weeks."
"Well, I'll pray for you in my own room, Ned Frog."
"You may do what you like in your own room. Good-night."
He lifted the trap-door as he spoke, and pointed downward. Themissionary at once descended after a brief "good-night," and a pleasantnod. Ned just gave him time to get his head out of the way when he letthe trap fall with a clap like thunder, and then began to pace up anddown his little room with his hands in his pockets and his chin on hisbreast.
After a short time he went to a corner of the room where stood a smallwooden box that contained the few articles of clothing which hepossessed. From the bottom of this he fished up the New Testament thathad been given to him long ago by Reggie North. Drawing his chair tothe table and the candle to his elbow, the returned convict opened theBook, and there in his garret began for the first time to read inearnest the wonderful Word of Life!