LIFE of
The GOSPEL TRUTH WILLIAM BOOTH
FOUNDER and FIRST GENERAL
of the SALVATION ARMY
by
Harold Begbie
1920
In Two Volumes
Volume 1
Chapter 11
THE BEGINNINGS OF A LOVE STORY
1852
WILLIAM BOOTH met Catherine Mumford for the first time when he was still a lay preacher. Mr. Rabbits gave a large party at his house one afternoon to which Mrs. and Miss Mumford were invited, and at which William Booth made a late arrival. No sooner did the young man make his appearance--a romantic appearance, one conjectures, at this respectable tea-party--than Mr. Rabbits seized upon him and insisted that he should recite a terrible American poem concerned with drunkenness. William Booth objected. He did not want to recite. He did not want to be forced into prominence. He protested that the piece was not in the key of social festivity. But the irrepressible Mr. Rabbits, who had heard him recite this same piece with great effect some few days previously, would take no denial. And so William Booth occupied the central place in that crowded drawing-room, and declaimed American poetry.
The recitation had a very awkward effect. It started a controversy. The guests of Mr. Rabbits were by no means convinced of the virtue of teetotalism. They saw considerable danger in the advocacy of so stringent a gospel; they declared themselves in favour of temperance and moderation. Suddenly into the midst of this disturbing discussion came Catherine Mumford, with a downrightness of opinion, a logic unmatched in that room, and a searching analysis troublesome, one imagines, at a tea-party, and sided entirely with William Booth.
This was their first meeting, marked by an alliance in battle. He saw her again, more than once, and was increasingly impressed by her force of character, the purity of her faith, and her instinct for worship. He respected her, and no doubt she was one of those who unwittingly discouraged his "pulpit efforts" by the extent and quality of her intellect.
On that day, the day upon which he finally relinquished his business career for the ministry, the first day of his freedom, he once more encountered Miss Mumford, and again through the intervention of Mr. Rabbits. The day was the 10th of April, 1852, Good Friday, his own birthday, and the day on which his great aspiration had come to reality.
Mr. Rabbits caught him at the moment of his starting off to pay a visit, and insisted that he should go with him to a service of the Reformers in a schoolroom situated in Cowper Street, City Road. Somewhat against his will, Booth consented, and in the schoolroom once more encountered Catherine Mumford. It was a fateful meeting. At the conclusion of the service he escorted this wonderful young creature to her home in Brixton, and on that journey both the man and the woman knew that they loved each other.
It was one of those fallings in love which are as instantaneous as they are mutual, which are neither approached nor immediately followed by any formal declaration of affection, and which manifest themselves even in the midst of conversations altogether absorbed in other matters. Suddenly William Booth knew that he loved this woman; and at the same moment the woman knew that for her there could be no other man. They compared notes afterwards, and confirmed their instinctive supposition; but at the time no word was said leading to the possibility of such a comparison of feelings.
And what follows is one of the most remarkable and charming love stories in the world--the love story of a man and a woman in whose hearts an extraordinary sense of religion had the uppermost place, to whom everything secular and human had a divine relativity, for whom God and His worship were the sovran ends of their existence. It is, in a way, a Methodist love story. Passion was there, deep and abiding, but passion restrained by duty and consecrated by devotion. An immense reverence for the woman characterized the love of the man, and a deep self-sacrificing faith in the man and his destiny characterized the love of the woman.
On the very threshold of this great love the man was brought face to face with hard necessity. His position was insecure; his worldly prospect could not well be blacker. For, to begin with, he was only an irregular minister; his miserable wage was guaranteed to him only for three months; and the more he saw of the Reformers the less he liked them. It tortured him to decide whether he might openly and frankly confess his love for this woman who was openly and frankly his friend. Dare he take that step? Yes. But ought he to take that step? Who should decide?
He prayed, and indeed agonized, over that question. The answer was uncertain, and his action was uncertain. Without positively declaring his love, he hinted to his friend this distress which haunted his thoughts. He made it clear to her that God must have his life, but asked, pitifully enough, and with much burning eloquence, whether he might rightfully look for companionship on his troubled road.
Catherine Booth has described the difficulties of that period, from the evening when William Booth accompanied her home after the meeting in the City Road:
That little journey will never be forgotten by either of us. It is true that nothing particular occurred, except that as W. afterwards expressed it, it seemed as if God flashed simultaneously into our hearts that affection which afterwards ripened into what has proved at least to be an exceptional union of heart and purpose and life, and which none of the changing vicissitudes with which our lives have been so crowded has been able to efface.
He impressed me.
I had been introduced to him as being in delicate health, and he took the situation in at a glance. His thought for me, although such a stranger, appeared most remarkable. The conveyance shook me, he regretted it. The talking exhausted me. He saw it and forbade it. And then we struck in at once in such wonderful harmony of view and aim and feeling on varied matters that passed rapidly before us. It seemed as though we had intimately known and loved each other for years, and suddenly, after some temporary absence, had been brought together again, and before we reached my home we both suspected, nay, we felt as though we had been made for each other, and that henceforth the current of our lives must flow together.
It was curious, too, that both of us had an idea of what we should require in the companion with whom we allied ourselves for life, if ever such an alliance should take place.
Singular to say, W. had formed very similar notions, and here we were thrown together in this unexpected fashion, matching these pre-conceived characters, even as though we had been made to order!
My mother invited W. to stay the night. He was, so far, without any home. He had purposed to stop at his cousin's. Instead of that he had got into this meeting, and from this meeting had come on with me. What a strange providence! It seemed so to me.
No doubt we drew each other out, and the conversation was lively and interesting, and my mother listened, and had her say, and before we parted she was nearly as interested in him as I was myself, but still nothing was said about the future ....
W. went away in a terrible controversy, feeling that he was wounded, and he has often told me since that he felt that for the first time he had met the woman who filled up his life's ideal of what a wife should be. He was really in love, and yet it was all contrary to the plans he had made. Had he not, only the day before, been able to get away from the business yoke that had galled him for these eight years gone by? Was there not the opportunity now for him to obtain the qualifications that he was convinced he required so grievously for the mighty work that was before him? Had he not resolved that for years to come he would neither look to the right hand nor to the left, but go straight forward until he had fitted himself to be a good minister of Jesus Christ. Moreover, what could he do with a wife? The little society with whom he had been commissioned to labour was only a mere handful of mostly working men that might not hold together for six months, and even if it did, might not want him beyond that time--even if they wanted him at all--of which he was not sure, knowing that, but for Mr. Rabbits, he would not have been there at all. So what business had he thinking about a wife or anything of the kind? His work seemed to be to go on and make himself a nest before he sought a mate.
And yet, there was the awkward fact staring him in the face, and although he said to himself as he walked away from that door that morning, "It cannot, must not, shall not be," it was not many hours before he found himself at that door again. We soon discovered what our mutual feelings were, and resolved that nothing should be done in haste: in short, until we were fully persuaded in our own minds.
A period was fixed during which time we were to seek Divine guidance. I had always entertained very strong views as to the sanctity of such engagements, views which W. considered very strict. I regard a betrothal as a most sacred act. That having once mutually decided on an engagement to be terminated with marriage, it was a very serious offence against God, and against the human heart, for any violation of such promises to take place.
I made W. understand what my views were, and refused what would be deemed even the most trifling familiarities between young people until he was perfectly satisfied and decided on the propriety of our future union.
This made the matter more serious still, and again he went forth to seek for advice from those who knew me, and to pray that God would show him whether in the peculiar circumstances in which he was placed it was His will that the union should take place. I said as to time I had no choice. If we never are married, very well. If circumstances never justified it, I am perfectly content that we should remain single for ever; but, single or married in body, we must be perfectly united in heart. Amongst the ways in which W. sought to obtain light was the old-fashioned one of opening the Bible and receiving the first passage on which the eye fell as the interpretation of God's pleasure, and this instance was rather curious, his eye falling upon, "And the two sticks became one in my hand."
However, this controversy could not go on for ever with two such hears as ours, and consequently we came to the conclusion and covenanted that come weal or woe we would sail life's stormy seas together, and on our knees we plighted our troth before the Lord.
We have heard a deal of criticisms on our principles of marriage in the Salvation Army, but here was a marriage virtually contracted on the same principles, foreshadowing all that we have embodied in our S.A. form of marriage. The purpose and end of it, I am sure, was the glory of God and the highest interests of the human race ....
The reality of the lovers' struggle, the stern force and rigid honesty of what they describe as their "controversy," may be seen from the letters of Catherine Mumford, which were written to William Booth in those early weeks of their intimacy. This controversy, as the reader will have seen, turned on the question whether they ought to consider themselves as engaged, or whether they should rest content with a Platonic friendship.
MY DEAREST WILLIAM--The evening is beautifully serene and tranquil, according sweetly with the feelings of my soul. The whirlwind is past and the succeeding calm is in proportion to its violence. Your letter--your visit have hushed its last murmurs and stilled every vibration of my throbbing heart-strings. All is well. I feel it is right, and I praise God for the satisfying conviction.
Most gladly does my soul respond to your invitation to give myself afresh to Him, and to strive to link myself closer to you, by rising more into the image of my Lord. The nearer our assimilation to Jesus, the more perfect and heavenly our union. Our hearts are now indeed one, so one that division would be more bitter than death. But I am satisfied that our union may become, if not more complete, more divine, and, consequently, capable of yielding a larger amount of pure unmingled bliss.
The thought of walking through life perfectly united, together enjoying its sunshine and battling its storms, by softest sympathy sharing every smile and every tear, and with thorough unanimity performing all its momentous duties, is to me exquisite happiness; the highest earthly bliss I desire. And who can estimate the glory to God, and the benefit to man, accruing from a life spent in such harmonious effort to do His will? Such unions, alas! are so rare that we seldom see an exemplification of the divine idea of marriage.
If, indeed, we are the disciples of Christ, "in the world we shall have tribulation"; but in Him and in each other we may have peace. If God chastises us by affliction, in either mind, body, or circumstances, it will only be a mark of our discipleship; and if borne equally by us both, the blow shall not only be softened, but sanctified, and we shall be able to rejoice that we are permitted to drain the bitter cup together. Satisfied that in our souls there flows a deep undercurrent of pure affection, we will seek grace to bear with the bubbles which may rise on the surface, or wisdom so to burst them as to increase the depth, and accelerate the onward flow of the pure stream of love, till it reaches the river which proceeds out of the Throne of God and of the Lamb, and mingles in glorious harmony with the love of Heaven.
The more you lead me up to Christ in all things, the more highly shall I esteem you; and, if it be possible to love you more than I do now, the more shall I love you. You are always present in my thoughts.
MY DEAR WILLIAM--I ought to be happy after enjoying your company all the evening. But now you are gone and I am alone, I feel a regret consonant with the height of my enjoyment. How wide the difference between heavenly and earthly joys! The former satiate the soul and reproduce themselves. The latter, after planting in our soul the seeds of future griefs and cares, take their flight and leave an aching void.
How wisely God has apportioned our cup. He does not give us all sweetness, lest we should rest satisfied with earth; nor all bitterness, lest we grow weary and disgusted with our lot. But He wisely mixes the two, so that if we drink the one, we must also taste the other. And, perhaps, a time is coming when we shall see that the proportions of this cup of human joy and sorrow are more equally adjusted than we now imagine--that souls capable of enjoyments above the vulgar crowd can also feel sorrow in comparison with which theirs is but like the passing April cloud in contrast with the long Egyptian night....
But I have rambled from what I was about to write. I find that the pleasure connected with pure, holy, sanctified love forms no exception to the general rule. The very fact of loving invests the being beloved with a thousand causes of care and anxiety, which, if unloved, would never exist. At least, I find it so. You have caused me more real anxiety than any other earthly object ever did. Do you ask why? I have already supplied you with an answer! . . . Don't sit up singing till twelve o'clock after a hard day's work. Such things are not required by either God or man; and remember you are not your own!
My dearest love, beware how you indulge that dangerous element of character--ambition. Misdirected, it will be everlasting ruin to yourself and, perhaps, to me also. Oh, my love, let nothing earthly excite it, let not self-aggrandisement fire it. Fix it on the Throne of the Eternal, and let it find the realization of its loftiest aspirations in the promotion of His glory, and it shall be consummated with the richest enjoyments and brightest glories of God's own Heaven. Those that honour Him He will honour, and to them who thus seek His glory will He give to rule over the nations, and even to judge angels, who, through a perverted ambition, the exaltation of self instead of God, have fallen from their allegiance and overcast their eternity with the blackness of darkness for ever.
I feel your danger. I could write sheets on the subject, but my full soul shall pour out its desires to that God who has promised to supply all your need. In my estimation, faithfulness is an indispensable ingredient of all true friendship. How much more of a love like mine! You say, "Reprove--advise me as you think necessary." I have no reproofs, my dearest, but I have cautions, and I know you will consider them.
Do assure me, my own dear William, that no lack of energy or effort on your part shall hinder the improvement of those talents God has intrusted to you, and which He holds you responsible to improve to the uttermost. Your duty to God, to His Church, to me, to yourself, demands as much. If you really see no prospect of studying, then, I think, in the highest interests of the future, you ought not to stay.
I have been revolving in my mind all day which will be your wisest plan under present circumstances, and it appears to me as you are to preach nearly every evening, and at places so wide apart, it will be better to do as the friends advise, and stop all night where you preach. Do not attempt to walk long distances after the meetings. With a little management and a good deal of determination, I think you might accomplish even more that way as to study than by going home each night. Do not be over-anxious about the future. Spalding will not be your final destination, if you make the best of your ability.
Catherine Mumford's Reminiscences tell the rest of the story:
Life now to me assumed altogether another aspect. I have already intimated the very high estimate I had formed of the importance of the position to which I now seemed fairly destined. The idea of the possibility of becoming a wife and a mother filled my life with new responsibilities, but the thought of becoming a Minister's wife made the whole appear increasingly serious. I assumed in imagination all these responsibilities right away, even as though they had already come, and at once set myself, with all my might, to prepare to meet them. I added to the number of my studies, enlarged the scope of my reading, wrote notes and made comments on all the sermons and lectures that appeared at all worthy of the trouble, started to learn shorthand in order that I might more readily and fully correspond with W., and in other ways stirred up the gift that was in me to fit myself the better to serve God and my generation.
I think this would have been one of the happiest periods of my life but for the gloomy view W. was apt to take of our circumstances. In looking back on this time, I often think of the saying that I have heard W. quote in these later times, that three-fourths of the troubles that cause us the greatest suffering never happen. Or, in other words, had we more perfectly learnt the divine lesson, "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," the realisation of this truth might have modified many of the gloomy forebodings which marred the beginning of our acquaintance.
I was very delicate; in fact, little better than a confirmed invalid, and he was afraid that my strength would never stand the strain and hardship involved in such a life as I imagined that of a Preacher's wife ought to be. Moreover, his pathway seemed so hedged in and blocked up, and he could not see how he was going to reach any ministerial position which would enable him to obtain for me that care and help without which he could not see how it was possible for me to live in any degree of comfort; and over and over again he would say that he would never take me into any position in which I should be likely to be less comfortable and cared for than in my own home.
The discipline of the Reform Society was very unsatisfactory to us both, in denying the Minister what we considered was his proper authority. The tendency of human nature to go to extremes found ample illustration in this particular. From making the Minister everything, treating him with the profoundest respect, receiving his word as law, putting him almost in the place of God Himself--they went over to regard him as nothing, denying him every shadow of authority, and only allowing him to preside at their meetings when elected for this purpose, and speaking of him in public and in private as their "hired" preacher.
In W.'s case it was worse than this. The leader of the local movement with which he was connected, not only denied him anything like the position of a leader, but refused to give him reasonable opportunities for preaching. They simply dealt with him as a cypher, doubtless feeling that, did they give him any sort of a position, he would earn for himself the leadership which they were determined to keep to themselves.
We both saw that these relations were too strained and unnatural to last very long; accordingly, at the end of the three months, for which Mr. R. had engaged him in the first instance, and for which he remunerated him out of his own purse, the connection was dissolved.
The look-out now was gloomy enough, not that I was anyway anxious about it. I felt quite certain that God would interfere on our behalf, and that W. possessed gifts which would only have to be exercised to become known, and which being known would win for him all those opportunities for usefulness for which his soul so strongly yearned.
It was at this time, when the way to the Ministry seemed totally closed in the Methodist direction, that W.'s attention was turned to the Congregational Church. I think this was my doing; indeed, I know it was; but, until he came to this dead stop, he would never hear of it, and even now his difficulties appeared almost insurmountable. To leave Methodism seemed an impossibility. His love for it at that time amounted almost to idolatry ....
Although I could sympathize with all this, and had a fair share of love for the Church to which I also owed much and in which I had experienced a great deal of blessing, still, I had nothing like this blind attachment. For one reason, I had not been actively engaged. Mine had been more the position of a spectator; and, moreover, I argued, that once settled in a Congregational pulpit, he could impart into his services and meetings all that was good and hearty and soul-saving in Methodism; at least, I thought he could, and consequently, I pressed him very strongly to seek an open door for the exercise of his Ministry among the Independents.
He was slow to accept my counsel. He had formed a very lofty notion of the intellectual and literary status of the Body, and was fearful that he was not equal in these respects to meet what would be required of him. But I was just as confident as he was fearful. I felt sure that all that was wanted by him was a sphere, and, that once gained, I saw no difficulty in his being able to organize a church of workers, and make them into Methodists in spirit and practice, whether they were such in government or no.
Perhaps I was very simple in these notions; I had little or no experience at that time as to the difficulty of over-ruling the prejudices and changing the customs which had been handed down from generation to generation. However, I was young and sanguine, and already had come to have considerable faith in the enthusiastic energy and devotion of my beloved, and I thought if he could once get into the leadership anywhere, he could carry the people whithersoever he would.
With such reasonings as these, and seeing that there was no other way by which he could reach the sphere to which his soul believed God had called him, he gave in, and resolved to seek an open door for the preaching of Jesus Christ, and the bringing lost sinners to God amongst the Congregationalists.
I cannot very well remember how he went about seeking this open door. We had not, so far as I can remember, a single friend who had any influence either with the Independents or with any other Christian Church as far as that goes. We at first cut ourselves off from the friendships of our youth when we left the Wesleyans, and now we had turned our backs upon the little handful with whom we had taken sides amongst the Reformers; consequently, we had no one to give us any introduction, nay, not even to give us a word of counsel.
At that time the most influential man among the Nonconformists in London was a Dr. Campbell. He was the editor of a religious newspaper which was regarded as the principal organ of the Denomination, known as The British Banner, together with one or two other magazines. Dr. Campbell was mighty in controversy, and his paper had achieved no little notoriety in this line.
Beyond this, we knew nothing about him.
I pushed W. up to go and see him, and after some of that hesitancy which we feel for a task when our heart is not in it, he screwed up his courage and called at the Dr.'s residence, and asked to see the great man. The Dr. received him most kindly, made him tell the story of his life, and then told him that he liked him, and would help him to the utmost of his ability. He gave him some letters of introduction, and finally brought him before the Committee for Home Mission Work, when, after various enquiries, theological, doctrinal, and otherwise, it was decided that he should be accepted and sent to the Training College which was located somewhere out of London.
In addition to W.'s difficulty in regard to Methodist Government, there rose up a still more formidable one, that of doctrine.
We knew that the basis of the Congregational theology was Calvinism. We were both saturated, as it were, with the broadest, deepest, and highest opinions as to the extent of the love of God and the benefit flowing from the sacrifice of Jesus Christ. We were verily extremists on this question. The idea of anything like the selection of one individual to enjoy the blessedness of the Divine favour for ever and ever, and the reprobation of another to suffer all the pains and penalties of everlasting damnation, irrespective of any choice, conduct, or character on their part, seemed to us to be an outrage on all that was fair and righteous, to say nothing about benevolent. We not only thought this, but felt it. On this, at least, we were in perfect harmony.
Now the knowledge that this doctrine was maintained by the Congregationalists in general, although we knew that it was not very generally preached, it being only here and there that we ever heard it mentioned in the popular addresses of the Congregational preachers of that day--that fading away from the public view of that doctrine, which is almost complete in our time, had already commenced--still, this phantom haunted W. continually, and one of the first questions he asked Dr. Campbell in the interview of which I have already spoken was whether he would be expected to preach any other doctrine than the universal love of God. The Dr. assured him than he would not be expected to preach any other doctrine than that which he honestly believed, saying to him most emphatically, "Now you must go to College and study over your Bible, and what you find there you must go out and preach, and that will be all that Independents will require from you."
This assurance was repeated to him again in the intercourse into which he was brought with other leading Ministers of this Church.
Judge of his surprise, after having passed his examination, and all had been fixed up for his admission into the Institution, on being informed by Dr. George Smith as the mouthpiece of the Committee that he would be expected to conform his views on this question to the Calvinistic theory. The Dr. said, "The Committee has shown you great favour arranging for you to go into training, although not even a member of an Independent Church, and holding doctrinal views opposed to those of the Committee; but on examination at the close of the first term, the Committee will certainly expect that you will be more nearly in harmony with their opinions," at the same time recommending an immediate perusal of Booth's Reign of Grace and Payne's Divine Sovereignty.
This was a tremendous drop for W. With great searchings of heart and innumerable misgivings he had managed to get so far. His views on church government had not been based upon any particular estimate of its importance, apart from the great purpose which it was intended to serve. Even then he was not one of those who magnify the form at the expense of the substance, but was prepared to sacrifice any favoured notions he might have entertained on this subject if he could thereby have secured the one important end on which his heart was set ....
But when it came to a change of doctrine on what was to him such a vital question, he was completely staggered. To have left him perfectly free was the only reasonable and honourable course for the Committee to have adopted; in fact, the only course that was needed on behalf of the churches they represented. Of what value could a man possibly be if, for the sake of position, he could deliberately change his views on such a vital topic as the one in question?
Moreover, a more unlikely course to have attained their ends could not possibly have been taken, especially with W. If he had been left perfectly free to decide and act accordingly, as Dr. Campbell had assured him he would be, the review of the controversy by him would have been, I have no doubt, fairly and faithfully made; . . . not that I expect it would have resulted in any change of opinion, still the subject would have been considered in all its bearings. But as it was, it was like offering a bribe, the very thought of which prevented even the most superficial consideration of the subject in question, and consequently most effectually served to defeat its own purpose.
However, W. shook hands with the Dr., bought Booth's Reign of Grace on his way home, sat down to read it, managed to get through some 30 or 40 pages, threw it to the other side of the room, decided that he could never bring his mind to the views therein laid down, and so closed the door to the Training Institution, and to the Independents. He then decided to write the Secretary, thanking him for all his kindness, but intimating that he had not the slightest intention of altering his doctrinal views, or of even deliberately setting to work to prepare for doing so.
All this, any one can easily imagine, was of considerable interest to me. From the moment of our engagement we had become one, and from that hour to this I don't think there has ever been any question of importance concerning either our principles or our practice in which we have not acted in perfect harmony.
I had been made familiar with every varying phase of the question as the negotiations proceeded. The matter had been undertaken more or less as I have said at my own instigation, and I had laboured hard to strengthen W.'s hands and to pilot him through the many difficulties that barred the way, and now, all at once, my schemes were frustrated, and my hopes, in that direction at least, were at an end, and we were once again afloat.
Amongst other things, ways and means demanded that W. should do something. The little store of money with which he left business was now exhausted. The last sixpence he had in the world he had given to a poor girl dying of consumption the day before in the expectation of going to the Training College on the following morning.
Therefore it seemed desirable that some other door should open in lieu of the one that had so abruptly closed.
As far as we could see no other deliverance was in sight, and yet, dark as the outlook was, the thought of going back to some business engagement was not allowed or entertained by either one of us. "No retreat" was our motto. We must go forward. But how? That was the question. We had not long to wait. I have already described that as the Episcopal Church divides the country into parishes, so Wesleyan Methodism groups those places where it operates into circuits.
The Reform movement, so far as it was able to, followed this line of demarcation. In some circuits the disruption was comparatively small, and the dissatisfied party found it the greatest difficulty to maintain an existence.
In others, the Reforming party formed a considerable portion of the body. This was the case at Spalding, a small town in the south of Lincolnshire. Here the great majority of lay preachers and people sided with the expelled Ministers, and were, in course of time, by expulsion or from choice, separated from the original fold, whereupon they formed themselves into a Community consisting of Societies and lay Preachers.
These Societies were separated by considerable distances from each other, the circuit being something like 27 miles across. To travel about amongst these Societies, preaching to them on the week nights and to transact the various matters of business which were essential to their existence and extension, and to perform the other manifold duties of a Pastor, a preacher was required. Enquiry for such an one was made by a friend in London; W. was at once suggested by the gentleman to whom the enquiry was made. As the result the invitation was forwarded and accepted, and before many days had passed he was duly installed in a position in which, notwithstanding some considerable drawbacks, his whole soul was in harmony.
To us this seemed a wonderful intervention indeed, but not more so than numberless similar instances that followed in the succeeding years. Again and again have there been Red Seas and Jordans through which we have gone in safety.
It was on ... day of this year 1852 that W. left me for Spalding.
This parting, although a very simple matter, perhaps appearing scarcely worthy of notice, was nevertheless a very serious event to me.
I don't know that I need hesitate to say that I loved W. with all my heart. We had been thrown very much together, and though the acquaintance had only extended some 6 months, it had been a very intimate one.
Parting, to me, had always looked a very formidable sort of thing. When a little girl, I made up my mind that I could not live as the wife of a seafaring or military man, simply on the ground of separation. As a Salvationist, I have since learnt many things and amongst others to endure separations from those I love for the Kingdom's sake, and on this occasion I braced myself up. Although it meant suffering, yet, I did not wish it otherwise. The sacrifice of a present good to secure a greater in the future had always appeared to me to be one of the higher forms of duty; I cheerfully embraced it on this occasion.
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