Costermongers' Hall. THE GOLDEN-LANE MISSION WITH A NEW FACE. ARDLY in any sense, apart from its truly interesting Noncon neighbourhood; and what prestige the place ever possessed was originally claimed by Hackney, to which parish the hamlet aforetime belonged. At the same time, in walking along the still antiquated High-street, we find the old thoroughfare not only quaint amid its squalid surroundings, but retaining much to remind us of former happier days when the roadway represented a semi-rural suburb, and the houses looked out upon pleasant gardens and spreading meadows. There are still here and there a few old houses which in their day must have been country residences; but, with one or two rare exceptions, their grounds have been appropriated as sites for the crowded cottages of the poor. One of these exceptions is seen in the still ample gardens of the private lunatic asylum, which seems to stand where formerly stood the once sumptuous residence of Richard de Beauvoir, a commoner whose residence, once upon a time, was "one of the sights of London" for all foreigners to visit. This was popularly known as the Old House at Hoxton; and even so recently as late in the reign of George III. “it was surrounded by a moat, spanned by drawbridges, and there were beautiful gardens, watered by streams from Canonbury fields." Perhaps a more interesting object is Hoxton Academy Chapel still standing to remind us of some choice spirits who have not passed away without leaving behind them their fragrant memories. The original institution came to an end in 1785; but, a few years later, a few earnest souls, having "caught the fire of Whitefield's ministry," while they "deplored the coldness existing in Independent churches," revived the academy at Hoxton, and Dr. Simpson, who became principal in 1791, was no less famous for piety than for his accurate acquaintance with the Hebrew Scriptures. Thus, though it may be a humble suburb, Hoxton has its memories; and the days were when Hoxton-square was the favourite retreat of many celebrated divines. Hoxton has changed with the times until it is now one of the most crowded quarters of the metropolis, and consequently, in a religious sense, one of the most needy. On account of its need the neighbourhood has been chosen as the site of Costermongers' Hall, a building representing the Golden Lane Mission, with a new face, and with that vigour of renewed life which is characteristic of all earnest work for God. It is now pretty generally known that Golden Lane itself has virtually become extinct, that is to say, the sure progress of City improvements has swept clean away what were formerly the sad characteristics of that once remarkable locality. When Mr. Orsman first invaded the place, just twenty years ago, the surroundings were very much what they had been for generations before. The street was narrow and gloomy, and the low lodging-houses of the main thoroughfare were supplemented, in the rear, on either side, with frowning alleys, reeking with abominations, and with curious courts swarming with a population to whom, in the main, religion, or even common morality, was unknown. Mr. W. J. Orsman went forth from the church at the Metropolitan Tabernacle inspired with that fervent missionary spirit which seldom fails to ensure success. His beginning was the day of small things; but when first one, and then another, were gained over to the good cause, the nucleus of a working church was formed; and this evangelistic agency, by dint of pegging away year after year, soon made a perceptible improvement in the neighbourhood. The large room in the old mission premises became too strait for the congregations attracted on the Sabbath, and this necessitated the removal of the services to the Foresters' Hall, a few yards away, where some thousand persons have been wont to attend on Sunday evenings. Thus the work, extending through seven days of the week, continued; but at last ominous reports gained currency that Golden-lane was about to be pulled down, widened, and otherwise improved, until the "oldest inhabitant" would fail to recognize its more respectable face. The reports turned out to be strictly true; and finding the ground slipping away from beneath their feet, while the people were being expelled from their old quarters by surveyors and other iconoclasts, the band of workers held a council of war, with Mr. Orsman in the chair. As no one had any idea of discontinuing the work, there was only one question to be answered-Whither shall we go? After a brief space of silence the answer came-To Hoxton. That was the unanimous voice of the council. It was a common-sense decision-to follow the people; and having been made, the way was providentially opened to go forward. The site originally thought of was not selected, the present position having been secured through a singular train of circumstances which appeared at the time to be accidental, but which are really among the things that are ordered and sure. If this is borne in mind, gratitude as well as interest will be excited. On Saturday evening, the 25th of June, we responded to an invitation to survey the old suburb, in which the new premises stand like a light set in a dark place; and, starting with Mr. Orsman, about seven o'clock we entered the old High-street at the Shoreditch end, soon to find ourselves in one of the very busiest markets of the London poor. We seemed to be in a broad stream of life, the volume of which was sustained by tributaries on either side-by-streets teeming with noisy children and care worn adults, whose one hard battle in the world was to make both ends meet, and to keep the wolf from the door. From this we leave the reader to infer that the quarter does not look as though it were troubled with more than an average share of the criminal element, the people filling the pathways being evidently an honest sort of folk of various orders. Taken as a whole, the market is as miscellaneous as it is extensive, while the din strikes one's ear as a genuine polyglot discord, although the traffickers are talking in only one language. If our wants are few, and our tastes frugal, this is the place to be accommodated; but if otherwise, we shall not seek long without finding what we want, and at truly reasonable rates. There are abundant stocks of live birds, whether for cages or the poultryyard, to say nothing of four-footed animals of all kinds. Ordinary tradesmen, such as grocers, bakers, and butchers, appear in some cases to be rather overdone than otherwise with custom, and yet the interminable row of stall-keepers outside evidently attracts the largest share of notice. The liberal glare of their lamps not only sets off to real advantage their almost nondescript wares, but flavours the street with the fumes of that coarse naphtha which a coster esteems even above electricity. This is the place, too, to learn in what degree the voice may stimulate trade-the costers using their throats too frequently ever to have time for thinking about those genteel ailments which happen to people in black coats. We have just said that the wares were nondescript; but that will not be accepted as a valid excuse for not attempting a rough kind of catalogue. We left the caged birds and live animals at the quietest end of the street, enjoying the luxury of shop accommodation; but our friends the costers, or general dealers, who have so largely benefited by Mr. Orsman's efforts, have to be armed for all weathers and emergencies. We have at present a fine night after a wet day, and it is appalling to think of the havoc which a steady downpour would make with some of the displays set out by these poor people. Even the " green stuff" people, who offer the best and freshest of vegetables at cheapest rates, have to look well after the softer kinds of fruit; while the dealers in old iron-ware are not anxious to have their goods become more rusty than nature intended. The only traffickers who can really afford to welcome rain, save for the fact that it drives would-be customers home or into public houses, are the plant sellers, whose tempting bargains "All a growin' and a blowin'," still seem to greet us with a fishout-of-the-water kind of smile amid the murkiest of surroundings. Passing onward, we come to ham and bacon, which, if not of Wiltshire quality, is sold at American prices. Fish, shell and otherwise, is more than abundant. We particularly notice that ladies who indulge in ices in the street are not accommodated with spoons in this locality. We cannot enumerate everything which is here to tempt the purchaser. Necessaries and luxuries for the table, furniture for the house, tools for the workshop, clothes and ornaments for the body, with a thousand-and-one other things which one might expect, or might not expect, to meet with in such a place are on every side. We are in that world of plenty and elysium of the working classes with a week's wages to spend a Saturday-night market. The cry in all directions is to buy, and everybody seems anxious to do so. This is the bright side of the picture; there are darker shades, because, unfortunately, hard-handed and strong-headed working people do not confine their spending to the legitimate market, they yield to temptations of another kind, which do them harm rather than good. The shops are some of them crowded, but so are also the public-houses, which are alive with customers; one of these is embellished with views illustrative of Shakespeare, painted glass, and tesselated pavement, surpassing anything we ever saw in the same department of trade. The trap to catch the fools' pence hardly needs all this childish, though costly, glitter to make it effective; but while the pence are so plentiful, Boniface is willing to throw the glitter in; for if it pays in no other way, the grandeur pleases his own cultivated eye. As a set-off to the thriving taverns we must not forget the well packed Temperance Meeting gathered by Mr. Noble in Hoxton Hall, which we attended for a few minutes. The battle against gin, beer, and excess is never allowed to flag. God send the victory! Such is the neighbourhood in which the new mission premises are erected, and Mr. Orsman himself thus describes the new building: "The ground floor, comprising a line of shops and a coffee palace, will produce an income of £250 per annum. The upper part of the premises will be devoted to the hall and club-rooms, and school-room. This plan commends itself to business men, as there will not only be a saving of £200 a year now paid for temporary premises, but also a balance in favour of the Mission arising from the profits of the shop rentals." The Mission has entered on a new and auspicious era; for though Golden Lane may virtually have passed away, the poor are still left behind, and the future must not be behind the past in ministering to their needs. Readers of this magazine have already made substantial contributions to the building fund; and any others who wish to encourage Mr. Orsman in his ambition to raise £1,400 to enable him to open the premises free of debt may send their gifts to Milton House, Shacklewell, London, where the mission press will duly register an acknowledgment. G. H. P. Forbearance. THE young are seldom forbearing, because they so little understand the frailties of poor human nature. Oh! if you could only witness the terrible struggles passing in the heart of that friend whose vivacity annoys you, whose fickleness provokes you, whose faults sometimes even makes you blush. Oh! if you saw the tears that are shed in secret; the vexation felt against self (perhaps on your account), you would indeed pity them. Love them! Make allowances for them! Never let them feel that you know their failings. To make anyone believe himself to be morally good is to help him, almost in spite of himself, to become so. Forbearance is even more than forgiveness, it is excusing, putting always the best construction upon everything; above all, never showing that some proceeding has wounded us, speaking of anyone who has vexed us thus:-"She did not think, else she would have acted differently; she never meant to pain me, she loves me too much; she was perhaps unable to do otherwise, and yet suffers at the thought of having displeased me." For a wounded heart no balm is so efficacious as forbearance. To forbear is to forget every night the little vexations of the past day; to say every morning: "To-day I shall be braver and calmer than yesterday." Forbearance even sometimes leads us to detect in ourselves a little want of good nature, condescension, and charity. To forbear is not only freely to forgive, but to meet half-way, with extended hand, those who timidly ask for pardon.-From Gold Dust: A Collection of Golden Counsels for the Sanctification of Daily Life. By E. L. E. B. |