CHAPTER VIII.
FROM GIPSY TENT TO PULPIT.
In March, 1860, a family of gipsies camped on a piece of land near Epping Forest, in the south of England. They were shiftless people moving here and there over the country according to their whims. They were not made welcome anywhere, for gipsies have a reputation for dishonesty, and probably this family named Smith were very much the same as other members of their tribe. But one day during their stay in that place—to be exact it was March 31st—a baby boy was born in that gipsy tent, to whom his parents gave the name of Rodney.
Rodney's parents earned their living very much as other gipsies. They travelled up and down the country making and selling baskets, tinware, clothespegs, and recaning cane chairs. Rodney's father—whose name was Cornelius, also made a business of buying and selling horses. Of course, young Rodney grew up without education. He travelled with his parents and soon learned to go from house to house selling clothespegs and other things. He was a bright lad and together with his brothers and sisters, soon knew more about the flowers and birds than most folks. His parents could neither read or write and so he was not burdened with any kind of lessons. He was too young to understand the value of education and so did not worry over that. He was a happy, care-free little fellow, when something happened which changed his whole life.
Rodney's eldest sister was taken ill and the father drove the gipsy wagon to the door of the doctor's house. The doctor climbed the steps of the wagon, leaned over the door and called the sick child to him. "Your daughter has small-pox," he said to Rodney's father. "You must get out of the town at once." The sorrow-stricken man drove his wagon about two miles out of the town to a place called Morton Lane. There he erected a tent and then drove the wagon farther down the lane with the sick child in it. He remained in the wagon with the child while the mother and the other four children lived in the tent. Soon one of the boys was taken ill and he also was removed to the wagon. Those were hard days for Rodney's mother. She would prepare the food for her sick children, then carry it half-way from the tent to the wagon, then give some signal and the father would come for it. In her anxiety the poor mother seemed to approach a little nearer to the wagon each day. One day she came too near. She too, was taken ill, and when the doctor saw her, he said it was smallpox.
For several days the man watched tenderly over his wife and cared for her, but it was of no avail; she gradually sank. Rodney was walking in the lane with his sister Tilly, when his eldest sister called him. "Rodney," she said, "mother's dead." The little gipsy lad fell on his face as though he had been shot. Rodney's mother was only a poor gipsy woman without any education, but she was mother, and the little fellow knew that without her life would be much harder.
After his mother's death Rodney continued to help his father by selling the homemade clothespegs and tinware. He was very proud of the amount of business he could do. Some days he sold nearly nine hundred pegs. He was a bright-eyed little fellow, not at all bashful, and he became a favourite in the towns which the gipsies visited. When women did not wish to buy or seemed to hesitate, he would say: "Come, now, Madam, here you have the best pegs on the market. They will not eat and will not wear clothes out. They will not cry nor wake you up in the middle of the night." If they still hesitated, Rodney would tell them that he had no mother. It was no wonder that with his humour and determination he generally managed to do a good business.
When Rodney was in his early teens his father became a Christian. It made a great change for the better in Cornelius Smith and life in that gipsy wagon became happier. The father was tremendously in earnest. He gave up his habits of drinking, stealing and swearing, and wherever the wagon went he sought some place of worship where he and his family might learn more about God. The change in Cornelius Smith soon impressed the children and Rodney decided to do as his father had done, and committed himself in simple trust to God.
Although he was at this time about fifteen, Rodney Smith could neither read or write. He had never been to school a day in his life. When he opened the Bible to try and read it, he often had it the wrong way up. As he passed along the streets of towns where the wagon was he tried to read the signs over the shops, but it was hard work, and unless they were very simple words he could not make them out. By trying in every spare moment, however, he soon learned to read; slowly at first, but gradually getting on better each day. He bought a dictionary, and it was in constant use. Whenever he came to a word he did not understand, down came the dictionary. He had a good memory, and once he looked up the meaning of a word he seldom forgot it. He read the Bible a great deal and soon he began to hope that some day he might be able to preach. He knew that for ten years he had been roaming about the fields and streets, when he ought to have been at school, but that was not his fault, and he resolved to try and make up for lost time. He was a good singer and he often sang at religious meetings in the towns and villages they visited. Then he became bold enough to deliver short addresses. As he had very little education, and had scarcely read anything, these addresses were very simple, but he was in earnest and did much good.
Just at this time Rev. William Booth—later known as General Booth—began a movement which was known as the Christian Mission. Mr. Booth heard about Rodney Smith, and persuaded him to become a worker with him, and Rodney agreed. This was in 1877, when he was seventeen years of age.
There was tremendous excitement in the gipsy wagon when Rodney stated his intention of becoming a preacher. Rodney strode up and down in front of the wagon with his three or four books under his arm. On the morning of his departure Rodney dressed himself up in the new clothes which he had bought with what little money he had. All his belongings he packed into a box which he had bought for sixty cents. He bade good-bye to his father and his brothers and sisters, and then this young gipsy lad, with very little education and scarcely any money, took the train for London to engage in Christian work. He arrived in London that same evening and went to the people with whom he was to live for the time being. That evening Rodney sat up to a table for a meal, and used a knife and fork, for the first time in his life. He was terribly embarrassed, and when a piece of linen was placed beside his plate he did not know what to do with it. He thought it must be a pocket handkerchief and said so to his hosts. He could see at once that he had made a mistake, and overwhelmed with confusion he said: "Please forgive me, I do not know any better. I am only a gipsy boy, and have never been taught what these things are. I know I shall make lots of blunders, but if you correct me whenever I make a mistake I will be grateful. I will never be angry, and never cross."