In the evening of the following day, the Nephew called at my lodgings to arrange for the funeral. He wished it to be on Saturday afternoon; and we appointed three o’clock. And his desire was, that the grave should be as near where his Uncle used to sit in Chapel as could be.
The New Year 1839, opened with a glorious sun-rise; bright and clear. The frost was intense; but there was a dryness in the air which made it pleasant and refreshing. John Pounds was up long before the sun; cooking hot breakfasts; and taking them round to poor sufferers in back courts and alleys. Read more
Monday evening; – the last evening in the year: – meeting John Pounds in St. Mary’s Street, as he was crossing over into Crown Street; – “Yer sarvant, Sir! – Sharp frost!” “Yes, Mr. Pounds; but you don’t seem to feel it much; with your bare arms, and open chest, and no hat on!” “I likes it! It makes me feel fresh and brisk like! I’se been to the King’s Bastion, to see the sun set: – the last sun, you know, Sir, in the old year. He goes down very grand; all crimson and gold: – bright – to the last!” Read more
One bitterly cold night in December, an esteemed member of my Flock, Mr Frank Faulkner, called upon me. He had driven the Rocket from London to Portsmouth that day, in the face of cutting sleet; but he came in with a countenance and manner so full of generous interest, that there was no appearance of weariness or fatigue. Read more
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