Mr. Thomas Sheppard, a boot and shoe maker of long standing in High Street, a member of my Flock, much respected for his sound good sense, his integrity, and general benevolence, called upon me one morning, and said: Read more…
The winter of 1837-8 was unusually severe. The streets were covered with ice for weeks together. Birds of strong wing, accustomed to fly high, and not commonly seen in the neighbourhood of towns, were now seen flying low along the streets, in search for food. The hardships and sufferings of the poor were extreme. Great efforts were made to relieve them. Read more…
Towards the close of the year 1835, we opened a new Sunday-school in High Street; designed for girls and very little boys; to be conducted entirely by ladies of the Congregation; except that I, as Pastor, was privileged to take part in all their proceedings. The Sunday after it’s commencement, as the afternoon teaching was going quietly on, all seriously cheerful; there was a gentle tap at the door. Read more…
Winter set in early; the cold was intense; but it seemed to make little difference to John Pounds. He was seen striding along the street, early and late, without hat or coat on, his neck and chest bare, his shirt-sleeves rolled up above the elbows; carrying his good nourishing things, that he had been preparing, to comfort his poor suffering neighbours. Read more…
“Mr. Lemmon, did you ever go with him on any of these pleasant rambles?” – “Once, seven or eight years ago; I can’t say exactly what year. It was in the spring of the year; in the merry month of May! as Johnny likes to call it. And a very pleasant day’s ramble it was. I remember it all as clear as if it was yesterday. And many’s the time I’ve thought of it with pleasure since.” Read more…
On the Tuesday morning after the Saturday that John Pounds had arranged to take his scholars a ramble to Portsdown, I wished to speak to him, and went to his shop; but to my surprise I found the door shut. The little tumble-down window was open, and his cat was sitting at it, keeping watch. But there was no sound of children’s voices, and the old man was not there. Read more…
Stopping one morning at the old cobbler’s open half-door, to have a chat with him, and look on the busy scene of life and improvement and happiness so full of vigour about him, I observed some books beside his left elbow very much worn, and coming to pieces; and I said, “I think, Mr. Pounds, you want some knew books.” “Why so?” he said . Read more…