It is more than thirty years ago since I first became acquainted with David D—, the subject of this account.
I had business in an iron foundry at M—d, and spent twelve months chiefly in the office.
One day two women came into the office to ask the two partners in the concern, to settle a quarrel between them. One of these was David’s wife, and the other the wife of another of the men, who were neighbors in “The Foundry Row” attached to the place.
When they had gone, I said to one of the partners (Mr. M—.), “These people seem to need some help spiritually.”
“Indeed they do,” was his reply.
“Well,” I said, “let me have the last cottage in the row joining the foundry, and I will preach the gospel to them.”
“With all my heart,” he replied. “Get the warehouseman to clear out the wooden models, and the joiner to make you some benches, and put the gas in through the foundry-wall, and I wish you success.”
In a few days the place was ready, and my wife went with me to every cottage, inviting people to the preaching. We also asked the neighbors around.
A good number came the first night, and soon the cottage was full. The Lord blessed His word to the souls of nine or ten in a few weeks. David D—and his wife were amongst these, the first-fruits at M—d.
His early history I got from himself. He was apprenticed to be an iron-moulder, but in his teens, being a “likely” young man, above six feet, he was tempted to take the “recruiting sergeant’s shilling” and went off to serve the Queen. He completed his twenty-one years’ service, and retired with a small pension, married and took to his trade again.
He had, during his service, been sent to the Crimea, and lay ill of fever in the hospital at Scutari, when Miss Florence Nightingale was there, where he made the promise that if the Lord spared him, he would lead a better life.
Alas, for man’s promises! He got well, and was sent home, but fell under his old drinking habits. At the time he came to the preaching in the cottage, he was a teetotaler but found that salvation through Christ was the best thing, and by faith was led to rejoice in Him.
He had, however, a deeper lesson to learn beyond the forgiveness of sins. It was this: that “in his flesh dwelt no good thing.” This cost him much sorrow as well as others. He took offense because his master did not send him to look after some work. He gave notice to leave, and went off with his wife to Woolwich, and got a situation there. This proved the devil’s trap into which he had fallen through his pride. He fell into his old drinking habits, lost his employment, and left his wife. She took a situation, and poor David wandered about like a vagabond. He was in Satan’s sieve, but the Lord prayed for him, and cared for him.
He was a Derby man, and drew his pension there. I heard that he was in Derby, and being there one day I felt my heart drawn to seek this poor stray sheep. I found the house of his only sister, and called, asking if David D—was there. She said “No; he is on tramp, seeking work.” I asked whether he got drunk now. “No,” she said “he has not been drinking for long.” It was singular how he got to this sister. It shows the Lord’s watchful care. He did not know where his sister lived, but going into Derby in the evening, he asked in a shop if they knew where he could get a lodging. He was told that there was a person next door who took in lodgers. He knocked at the door of the very house where his sister lived.
His sister said, “He is very downhearted, and sits here, for hours, with his head between his hands, and wishes he knew where his wife is.”
I said, “I know where she is; she is at M—d.” She asked me my name, and when I told her she said, “He often talks about you. He is sure to be here on pension-day, and as you have called, he will, I am sure, go at once to M—d.”
I left, thankful to get this clue of him. Pension-day came, and afterward David D—came to M—d. He took up his position against a dark wall opposite the meeting-room door to watch the people coming out. No one could see him, but he could see each one coming out after the preaching. His wife was there, but went home with some friends. He dared not follow, but next day found her out and they were reconciled.
He had learned the painful lesson of self-judgment, and received forgiveness from God and man. Then he got regular employment at his trade, walked more humbly with God; and lived happily together with his wife, in their comfortable cottage, for a few years. One day in summer, being hot weather, he drank very largely of some cold beverage, which made him sick unto death.
He sent for me and said, “It is all right, I am going to my Saviour. I have done many things wrong but the Lord has forgiven all. Will you kindly look after my wife?” I promised to do so, and he fell asleep in Jesus.
How needful is lowliness of heart, and self-judgment, to keep us from falling into sin, and the snares of the devil.
Should this meet the eye of a poor wanderer, may the Lord bless it to his restoration.
G.R.