THE PREACHING IN PARADISE COURT.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1291, 26 November 1896, Page 10

THE PREACHING IN PARADISE COURT.

4» [By Nellie K. Blissett ] I have rarely seen anything; less celestial, considering appearances, than this same Paradise. A block of high dirty buildings, crammed together round a square of unsavoury pavement, which fre* quently sent forth an odour capable of giving points, in the matter of nastiness, to any other on earth. The ground floor of the houses was intersected by numerous dark passages leading from the central yard to the world about, and the inhabitants of this dismal block of brick bore an unenviable reputation in London police registers. One stuffy summer evening, when there was a coppery glow in the shaded sky, and the warmth of thunder in the air as it struck your face, I found myself iu the neighbourhood of Paradise Court on an embassy from the manager of the " Salamander" Music Hall to Stickers, the stage carpenter, who had been ill. This worthy I discovered at the door of his tenement —he inhabited a flat in a ♦* model " block—with his pipe between his teeth, chatting with his friend and assistant Sandy Macintosh. They were interchanging confidences with regard to the weather, and Sandy kept his eye carefully cocked towards tho lurid rim of sky above the smoke, I delivered the mana, ger's message, and we stood talking for some momenta. Whilst so occupied, a black figure came quickly along the opposite pavement, and {Stickers took the pipe from his mouth and tapped it thoughtfully against the whII. 1 "There's a parson," he remarked. "Tain't often you see 'em 'ereabouts. W'ere's 'e goin ' ? " We watched him. He was very young —hardly more than a boy. His face was round and rosy and his hair was light, whilst the eyes which glanced across at us were blue and pleasant. But what on earth was lie doing here ? Sandy shook his head in grim disapproval. " He's ower young to be a meenister o the Word," he said slowly. " I'm thinkin' the bairn's strayed frae his way." "If he ain't 'e soon will be," retorted Stickers with sarcastic intent. " Dashed if e ain't agoin' into Paradise Court !" We stared at each other for a moment in silence. Then Stickers came off the doorstep. "I'm goin' to see the fun," he anrounced. " Tain't that I like 'is cloth ; but I'll see fair play, an' there's precious little o' that as a parson 'ull get in Paradise Court ! " So we followed the curate down the street and into one of tho dark passages. Here we found him looking puzzled.

I went up to him. 44 Excuse me," I said, " but I have been watching you for some minutes. Are you looking for anything ? " II la this Paradise Court ? " •• Yes." . , •« Thank you. I am looking for that,' he said. Stickers, behind me, chuckled audibly, and even Sandy smiled. ",I hope you ," I stopped. " Might I ask what you are going to do here ? " He looked as if he doubted my right to queßtion him—a thing not to be wondered at.

" I am going to preach." Stickers'* chuekle stopped, and Shandy eyed the Btranger doubtingly. •? Perhaps you don't know this part,", I ventured to suggest. *« It's pretty rough flown here, and Idon'tfancy there's much preaching done. The Salvation people coine sometimes, but even they get badly handled. I think, \t you will pardon the advice, that you had rrjuqh better not preach.^ The boy's face coloured and a hght ot battle came into the blue eyes. ♦ 'That's what my vicar told me/' he replied ; ** but I said that where the Salvation folks could go 1 could go too. And I will." Thoje was silenc6 for a moment, and then Sandy spoke, '* Are ye by yersel', sir 1 "

''Yes." : The old Scot glanced at the black figure, and a smile curled his lips. 14 I'm thinkin' I've a mind to hear the preachin'. You're ower young to -but twa's better than ane in Paradise Court." And four may safely be considered better than two, so Stickers and I followed .him. . By this time the unusual apparition ot a parson had excited no little interest. There was a fair audience assembled in the Court, and many heads, young and old, and all dirty, were thrust from windows high in air, There was a murmur of astonishment when the preacher came forward. He went straight to the middle of the yard, then stopped, took off his soft felt hat and held it in front of him in both hands like a schoolboy. For a second ho said ■ nothing, but stood there waiting, with the light shining on his fair hair. Then he began his preaching, and such was the general astonishment at his audacity that for about three minutes he spoke without interruption of any kind. I was too interested in the attitude of his audience to listen much to what he said, but I retain a hazy memory of something ■trong and simple, which an older, and perhaps cleverer, man need not have been ashamed of speaking. fle W not finish"* half a dozen sen-

tences though before the storm burst. Someone at the back of the crowd inquired

" if his ma knew as 'e was on the loose 2" and then the tide of Paradise Court wit and hilmour rose and ran high. They laughed, they shouted, they baited him with delicately chosen taunte, and finally, failing to stop him, began to punctuate their pungent sentences by occasional applications of convenient refuse. But he went on, holding his head very high and looking neither to the left nor to the right. An egg of respectable antiquity hit him neatly on the neck and ! dispersed its ungrateful contents down his waistcoat ; a decayed cabbage stump or two hurtled through the air and rebounded from separate parts of his person ; a decayed tabby, redolent of something more potent than even sanctity, took him I full in the face, and very narrowly missed J brushing me as well ; but ho went on. i I saw him grow very red and his eyes flash, but he never so much as lifted his hand from the brim of his hat. And though I was much minded to interfere, I knew thah interference would only bring about a climax, and so refrained. The boy's fate was in his own hands and his only. If I went for the police I might be gone some time, and I desired to see the end of the episode, so I contented myself by taking 3uch a share of the Paradise Court rubbiah-heap as I could not decently manage to avoid. He spoke for about twenty minutes — they felt rather like hours—and cabbage stumps, and worse, fell thicker and faster as he proceeded. Then there was a sudden, ugly rush towards us, and Stickers and Sandy Macintosh drew up, and I gripped my stick with a sense that we were in for a bad time.

And when the rush came the preacher stopped at last and turned his eyes on his assailants for the first time. I don't think they liked it, for they stopped dead a few feet from him and obviously wavered. For an instant there was perfect silence in the Court, then a glare of appalling light and a crash of thunder which shook the surrounding buildings from chimney to basement. When it ceased the crowd had considerably dwindled, and the heads at the windows above had disappeared. But the curate did not budge. He cast one quiet glance at the angry sky, finished his sermon in perfect peace, put on his hat and prepared to leave. He took out his handkerchief and deliberately wiped his face, and dusted the marks of battle from his coat. Then he turned to his silent audience.

" My brethren," he said very simply, and as if nothing at all had happened, and he were concluding the most friendly meeting in the world, "I shall come again next week. Good-bye." He went from the Court just as quietly as he had come, and we followed him. The crowd gave way before him silently, and when we reached the street I heard a confused sound of talking behind us. It was a premature decision, but I concluded that Paradise Court was fairly ashamed of itself, and after events proved that I was not mistaken.

Meanwhile we stood in the street, and the curate turned to us.

"Thank you," he said, with a shyness that was carious after his bout of obstinacy. "I am glad }OU went with me. Of course it was a little' lonely and you made it seem more comfortable. Thank you very much. Good bye." lie shook hands with me, and then with Stickers and Sandy. When he came to the old Scotchman, Sandy's face was a sight to see. " Ye maun ju-.t f orgi'e me, sir,'.', he said, as he'took the boy's hand in his own big paw. " 1 said ye were ower young to be i meenister o' the Word, an' I'm sorry to ha'e said it. "Ve've shamed mony an older man this day. An' if your vicar has a gude head on his shoulders he may weel be prood o' ye, though ye're but a laddie for a' your preachin'." We stoodon the pavement and watched the black ligure disappear into the traflic and the smoke.

said Stickers at last, " they've <ad a treat to-day in the Court. They're f jnd of a row and they've 'ad one ; but they ain't come out of it fust-rate not by no means. There's grit in that lad—for a parson there's a deal o' grit. I never see no one be'ave just like that before. 'E warn't cheeky, an' 'e didn't do no snivelling, an' I thini 'e'd 'ave liked to take oil' his coat to 'em all the time. That's honly 'uman natnr\ an' I'm a lot fonder of 'uman natur' than wot I be of eant.'<

Circumstances prevented my attendance at the curate's second preaching, but I had a detailed account of the event from Stickers. I± wa3 told me among the 44 Salamander''properties to the accompaniment of a hammer. 4 ' 'E went in jest as e' did afore," said Stickers ; " an' there was a lot more to meet 'im. But 'e 'adn't no dead cats this time. An' 'e preached as quiet as though 'e were a-standin' in 'is hown pulpit with 'is 'ole congregashun a-snorin' their 'eads orf hunder 'im. Bless you, 'e were as peaceful as a hinnercent lamb. An' w'en 'e finished, Jack Bugles, wot was pretty hactive time eefore with the 'eavy guns, 'e carries cut an' sez, as perlite as if the young un wor a dooki 'off they believes they didn't show a right happreciation of 'is hefforts last time —Jack can spout fit to bu'st ye w'en 'e's took that way—an' will 'e be good enuf to hoverlook an unfort'nit ewent, an' haccept their 'umble hapologies? Lor', you might 'ave knocked me down with a stror, I was that took aback. Aa' e' answered 'em as

solemn as a judge, an'said 'e 'ad supposed it wor a mistake, an' 'e didn't bear no' malice } an' w'en 'e Went they giV 'im three cheers ; an' 'e's goin' ugairi soon. There ain't no limits to wot cheek 'ull do, that there ain't ; but some'ow 1 'opes they'll make that boy a bishop ; we want a few of 'is sort about."— Windsor Magazine.