will be owned of the Lord. Oh for a nearer assumption to Christian character — I must thoroughly commence life anew. Give my love to your dear mother. I sighed out your name in Spalding pulpit just as the clock struck the hour of midnight — and prayed for your happiness and prosperity during the coming year. Write me a line directed home to reach there on Friday. Bless you, I have strong faith that we shall yet be very happy. Oh I know I love you, highly esteem and love you, and I know you love me. Oh we will try and make each other happy. . . RED LION STREET, SPALDING, MY DEAREST AND MOST PRECIOUS KATE It does indeed seem a long time since I had the pleasure of hearing from you. I do not desire you to write oftener than once a week; at the same time your letters are always very welcome. I am sure I long very much for your company, for your society, and your help. I have felt very much the unpleasantness of being compelled to wait so long before we could be united since we parted. But however the step is taken and it must be endured with as good a grace as possible. You will be pleased to hear that I have written to Mr. Cooke asking to come up to London and to live and study with him until Conference, and that I have received a letter this morning stating that he will see Mr. Rabbits and the other friends and endeavour to make arrangements for my doing so. It will be very pleasant and we must make it profitable our being so near one another once more. If it can be brought about! I am very anxious to get away from here now as quickly as possible - some whom I deemed my fastest friends are very displeased and vexed with me, and my position becomes daily to my feelings more painful. I hope it is for the best. I think it is. I think it is. My mind is much more composed about it than it was, and I hope, if I come to London, to spend a very profitable six months. NEW NORTH ROAD, LONDON. (Undated. Probably one of the first letters after joining the New Connexion.) MY DEAREST CATHERINE (After references to meetings) - And now I want to tell you: 1. That you must write to me oftener than once a week. You have nothing to do and I am overwhelmed with business and care, and I cannot exist now on one letter per week. 2. I am well in health and have no fear or feeling about cholera. When I say I am well, I mean I am very much better. My appetite is good and my digestion is improved. 3. Why did you not send me Mr. Macland's address? I have found him an apartment. They are keeping it and cannot find him. It was foolish of your mother to send the letter and address to Burnham. . . I should like much to see you. I have wanted you this last day or two much. I am for Bristol on Saturday and the following week. You will get down about the same time. In my Monday's note I said that the Bridal Waltz" was 4s. Shall I buy it? I have no notion of giving so much for the Devil's music, but your will shall be done. I had a good night on Sunday, and am expecting great things at Bristol. The friends are very kind and Mr. Bates is in excellent spirits about things and quite in favour now of my views. In fact, we have some very encouraging facts before us. Believe me, my dearest, to be Your affectionate, constant, and tender WILLIAM. CHAPTER XV THE EVANGELIST TROUBLED ABOUT MANY THINGS 1854-1855 A STRANGE step had been taken. William Booth, the fiery preacher of revivalism in Lincolnshire, became all at once a humble student in Regent's Park, surrendering himself to the domination of a Rev. Dr. William Cooke, theologian. From excited prayer-meetings, from furious preachings, and from the popularity and hero-worship of tea-parties, this lion of Lincolnshire suddenly abased himself to the schoolroom, and opened Greek and Latin grammars with a valorous effort to acquire the habitual meekness of a divinity. scholar. But till the last moment he hesitated, and almost at the last moment he threw himself off in a clean contrary direction. In January, 1854, he wrote to Catherine Mumford from Holbeach: The plot thickens, and I hesitate not to tell you that I fear, and fear much, that I am going wrong. (He speaks of a fresh offer made to him by the Reformers, and then proceeds.) My present intention is to tear myself away from all and everything, and persevere in the path I have chosen. They reckon it down here the maddest, wildest, most premature and hasty step that ever they knew a saved man to take. To this and another similar letter Catherine Mumford replied in wise and quieting fashion: I am very sorry to find that you are still perplexed and harassed about the change. I did think that there were conditions weighty enough to satisfy your own mind as to the propriety of the step, and if not I begged you not to act. Even now it is not too late. Stay at Spalding, and risk all. Pray be satisfied in your own mind. Rather lose anything than make yourself miserable. You reasoned and suffered just so about leaving the Conference, and yet you see it was right now. I never suffered an hour about it, after I once decided, except in the breaking of some tender associations. Nor do I ever expect to suffer. I reasoned the thing out and came to a conclusion, and all the Conference battering I met never caused me a ten minutes' qualm. You mistake me if you think I do not estimate the trial it must be to you, and the influences, and the circumstances and persons around you. But remember, dearest, they do not alter realities, and the Reform movement is no home or sphere for you; whereas the principles of the Connexion you love in your very soul. I believe you will be satisfied, when once from under the influence of your Spalding friends. Anyway, don't let the controversy hurt your soul. Live near to God by prayer. That she herself was in no fixed and unshadowed state of peace at this time may be seen from the following letter, which she wrote to him, so far as one can judge, a week or two before his return to London: Bless you, my precious one, how I long to see you to-night. I have not been at all well since Friday evening, and the weather being very wet and foggy to-day I have not been out. However I have not spent an unprofitable or useless day. I lay in bed till nearly 12 o'clock reading the blessed Bible, and some portions of the Magazine, and praying for thee, with special reference to the subject of thy last letter. No doubt, the exercises you mention were the result of temptation. I only wonder Satan does not harass you more in this way, seeing what you are doing with his Kingdom. When I used to try and serve God most faithfully and do most I used to suffer untold misery through what I believe now was pure temptation. Oh the agonies I sometimes endured since I have been more indifferent Satan has let me alone (comparatively), but I intend to provoke him again to open warfare if God spares me, yea, I have begun. I trust the Lord has delivered thee, and that this has been a day of peace and success. Only mind that the people understand what religion is, and thou need not fear their being excited there is the most glorious precedent for such results. I believe in revivalism with all my soul. I believe that it is God's idea of the success of the gospel. Of course you know what I mean by revivalism, the genuine work of the Spirit, and I believe these are such; go on, do all thy duty and leave results with God. I do wish I could see you to-night; I feel tired and prostrate and my spirit very, very tender; thy sympathizing voice would be sweet indeed, and though tired I could welcome thee home with a smile, and lay my hand on thy head and sympathize with thee in thy weariness. Well, it will soon be if God per mits, and we shall indeed be one, one in love. Oh blessed lot and hallowed even as the joy of angels where godliness and love unite two hearts in one. Good-night dearest, I sleep with thy loving letter in my bosom and sometimes dream about thee. God bless thee. I often think about that night thou wast so late home from the meeting at Mr. Rabbits; thy tenderness of manner to me when thou first came in has never passed away, and my mind seems to go back to it as to a green spot in our intercourse. The meeting of the long-separated lovers in February, 1854, is not described, but from an autobiographical fragment, written many years afterwards by Catherine Mumford, one gathers that happiness co-existed with fresh difficulties in this reunion which was not destined to be of long duration: The return of W. to London was to me of course a cause of extreme gratification. We were once more within reach of each other. Personal communion is so much more satisfactory for the interchange of thought and counsel than correspondence. We met at regular intervals. One of the first things I insisted upon, after our engagement was that stated times should be fixed for our meetings. It was always a point of conscience with me, not in any way to allow any service rendered me to hinder either W. or any one else in the discharge of any higher duty. We could now compare notes also as to our mutual studies and tasks the varied plans that we formed for future usefulness. It was no little gratification to me also to know that W. was once more devoting his time to mental development. I had always estimated the College failure as a calamity. Perhaps I over-estimated those literary and intellectual opportunities which college supplied- I think I did, in view of what I have learnt since then. Still those were my notions at that time, and I regarded this present arrangement by which W. was once more set down to a regular course of study as a sort of modified compensation. Taking all things into consideration, therefore, I was wonderfully well satisfied with the present position of affairs, and was very grateful to God for having so far as I could see led us into the path which had every likelihood of terminating in a sphere of as great usefulness and happiness as I could have ever deemed possible. Still W. was not satisfied. To tell the truth, he was really unhappy, almost as unsettled as ever. The first part of his Spalding life was in some senses the happiest portion of his early career. He was contented, and having known nothing |