THIRTY years have passed since the following incident occurred, but the impression it left on my mind has not faded, nor ever will fade, from my memory.
Located, during my college course, within five minutes’ walk of an old friend, I often dropped in for a short season of fellowship, after my lessons were ready for next day.
So it happened on a certain Saturday afternoon, having no Sunday engagement to carry me into the country, I thought to spend an hour with my friend.
I found him in just a fever of excitement, and elicited the following explanation: — He had paid his men in the city, closed his shop, and hurried to the train at Ludgate Hill, with his overcoat on his arm. As he jumped into the train, he thought he heard something drop on the carriage floor; he looked down, but seeing nothing, took no further notice.
On reaching Walworth Road (his destination), he alighted and came in to dinner; and wishing to hand his wife some coin, went to his great-coat, and then discovered he had lost his purse, containing £20 in gold. He had just made the discovery as I entered.
He was a good man and true; but Peter-like, very impulsive; hence, when I proposed a word of prayer over the matter, he at once protested. “No, not now! There is a time for everything; this is the time for action.”
“Very well; what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know; I cannot make up my mind what is the best to be done.”
“That, I venture to think, is a sufficient reason in itself for prayer.”
“Perhaps; but I don’t feel like praying just now. I think I’ll go to the Crystal Palace, the destination of the train in which I traveled, and see if honest hands have picked up the purse and handed it in at the terminus; and I’ll telegraph to Moorgate, from whence the train started, advising them of my loss.”
As soon as he had gone, his good wife suggested that now we might have a little prayer together. We knelt and pleaded that God would direct and overrule to the recovery of this purse; and then rose with a calm confidence that all would be well.
Turning to his wife, I said: “I think I’ll go into the City, and see the officials at Moorgate Street.”
“What for?” she inquired; “Charles has wired them, and no end can be served by going.”
“I cannot tell you why, but I feel it laid on my heart to go.”
“Then I will go with you; for I am far too excited to tarry alone just now.”
We hurried to Walworth Station, and taking return tickets for Moorgate, made for the first platform just as a G.N.R. train was signaled. Already the train was in sight; but in our impatience we would not wait, but hurried down the steps again, and up to the center platform, as we saw a train just stopping there. Rushing to a carriage, we were about to enter, when my friend said, “That is a smoking compartment, we won’t get in there”; and opening the next, there was the purse just under the seat. Of course we caught at it, much to the surprise of four gentlemen in the carriage, and walked home, gladly forfeiting our tickets, There are several points to be observed, rendering the finding of this purse remarkable. This train had gone on to the Crystal Palace, stopping at every station en route, on a busy Saturday afternoon, with the frequent interchange of passengers, and yet nobody appears to have noticed the purse. Again, had we waited for our train, already in sight, we should have missed the purse, and, had we aimed to catch this train on its return from the Palace, the probability is we should have failed; for, most remarkable of all, we found this train was not timed to stop at Walworth—should have run express from Loughboro Junction to Elephant and Castle; but the traffic being unusually heavy, the signal was against this train at Walworth, and stopped it at the platform just for the half-minute, whilst we took from the carriage the missing purse.
When Charles returned, I inquired, “Have you seen or heard anything of the purse?’’
“No,” said he, in a despondent tone, “and do not expect to. The traffic being heavier than usual, and the purse containing hard coin only, the officials hold out little hope of its recovery.”
“Is this anything like it?’’ holding up the purse.
“Where did you find it?” “Where you lost it.” And as we explained this remarkable recovery, Charles burst into tears, and exclaimed, “This is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes!’’
J. B.