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    November, 1871.


    I am not very demonstrative in gratitude, but I must indulge myself with the pleasure of saying how much I owe to you, and how greatly you contribute to my peace of mind. Your loving aid is beyond all thanks, although it desires none. Believe me, dear brother, I value you as God’s best gift to me in His work.

    I have enjoyed my journey here. I am not well; indeed I am, in reality, far other than most take me to be. I am content, however, if I return well enough to carry on our glorious work.

    Try and get W —

    or E —

    to Sutton. It is my place, and I hope they will have one of our men.

    Answer the Welsh letter —

    I think on vestry table

    from Cardiff. See what they can raise, but anyhow we shall be sure to decline.

    Next Monday please read the people some pieces from my first article in Sword and Trowel, for December

    Billy Bray.” It will give a chance of recommending them to subscribe for the Magazine.

    I have posted views of Paris to my wife. Mr. Blackshaw will get done for lantern those marked C. H. S.

    Give my love to the men and beg them to live on high, to work hard, and pray fervently. Like the Black Brunswickers they must neither give nor take quarter —

    (skull and cross-bones) —

    Victory or Death. Oh! for a picked regiment!

    Give my warm love to Lady Burgoyne, and tell her that my heart remembers her in prayer. The same love to Emily, and more for your sake as well as hers. Peace and joy be with you both.

    The Bon Diable was burnt out here by the Communists, but he finds plenty of shelter —

    won’t be short of a palace while Paris stands.

    I send special and particular love to Messrs. Murrell and Cooper, who are sure to be out on Thursday’, and the same to all others of my beloved brethren who may be there, with an emphasis for Mr. Dransfield. As for those who are not present I mean my love, but will not ask you to express it.

    Go and see Mrs. Potier if you can. Also let me know how Mrs. Phillips gets on —

    God bless her and her husband. Could you look in on Mr. Haddock?

    I hope Mr. Wm. Olney will be at home to help you. Give him my kind remembrances.

    The Lord be with you very richly.

    Your own grateful brother, C. H. SPURGEON.


    February 2, 1878.


    I bless the Lord for enabling you to be the means of bearing me over a great crisis, which I now begin to think of somewhat more calmly. I can hardly look at it steadily without depression, and I do not feel that I have any need to do so as yet; but I am all the more grateful to you for leaping into the breach. Mr. G. coming home before me, will complete the work. I have not yet heard from you how the Finchley matter turned out. I shall be relieved to know.

    You always have my love. Please remember me kindly to that noble band who are my true brothers in the Lord’s work. To Clarke and Smith also remember me. May they have a great harvest. No one has written to me as to how T. succeeded. I hope the Lord was with him.

    I get better every hour, but if I were back it would not last for long I fear.

    The remainder of my holiday will, I trust, deepen what is so well begun.

    My love to your good wifie. The Lord be with thee.

    Thy loving and grateful brother, CHARLES.


    Saturday, July 27, 1878.


    I have suffered so greatly.., that I can hardly tell whether I am benefited or not by this change. Yet it ought to be a great boon to me, for fresh air, fine scenery, and cheerful company make up a powerful medicine. M. will have told you how we have got on.

    Preaching four sermons is not a help to rest; yet the people are so eager to hear that it ought to be a delight to me.

    I trust there will be a large number to receive into fellowship when I return.

    It is wonderful how the increase has been sustained for so long. I can scarcely hope to see it remain at the highest level, and yet! should mourn its decrease.

    I hope your dear wife remains better, and that your trial in that direction may be succeeded by great joy. May you long continue strong and well. With my poor creaking machine, which only holds together with difficulty, it was kind on our Lord’s part to find me a brother so vigorious’—

    in all ways.

    Yours, with hearty love, CHARLES.


    September 7, 1881.


    Command me. I feel thankful for you that the stroke has at last fallen; the suspense must have been killing.

    I am at your service Tuesday and Wednesday, if I can bury the dear one.

    Take all the rest you can, and I will do my best without you.

    The Lord be with thee, my brother. You need no words from me as to your ever-living Helper; it is only fit for me to say again, What can your brother do for you? It will be a delight to be at your service to my very utmost. I am sore grieved for thee, my brother, but the Lord hath done it.

    Yours, in loving sympathy, C. H. SPURGEON.


    December 2, 1882.


    Love to you and the dear wife. I am well, and I feel better than I remember to have been for years. Every day I have time for reading, meditation, prayer, etc., and I feel as if my brain boxes were filling up. I keep on accumulating thought from day to day. Once I gathered here a year’s materials, and found it a great help all the rest of the year. It is very much so at. this time. The Lord is very gracious to me, and I am much alone with Him. So I trust I shall gather that which it will be a joy to sow.


    has been with me here all the while, nervously broken down; but he is every way better and will do good work yet. He is humble and gracious.

    Mr. B. is also with us, a very genial, good man. He is very happy with us and we with him. These brethren go off in the morning when the hint is given. I believe I am serving my age by staying here, and gathering matter for future use.

    I am so deeply indebted to you for looking into detail at Stockwell, and to your dear wife also. Now we shall go ahead. Mr. Carr writes me, singing your praises in a carmen of rapture, and the key is not too highly pitched.

    You are a good brother, indeed.

    Please remember me to all souls and all saints at Tabernacle, and to such souls and saints at Croydon as may know me.

    Fix time for College recess —

    say Thursday, December 14, if it seem good.

    Yours most lovingly, C. H. SPURGEON.


    August 1, 1885.


    I would do anything personally for our excellent friend, Sir Wm. McArthur, and I earnestly hope he may succeed in his candidature for our borough; but the use of the Tabernacle for a purely political meeting would be greatly objected to, and would be very unfair to those of our friends who hold other views from mine. When a religious question is involved, the case is different; but in ordinary political conflicts we must resolve ourselves into individuals, but must not compromise the church which we officially represent.

    I am for Sir William heart and soul; but I am sure that he will see that as pastor of the church in the Tabernacle I cannot use its place of worship for any matter in which the church would not be practically unanimous if I proposed to hold a political meeting there.

    While writing on this point, I wish you could ascertain whether Sir William feels that he has a good backing for our borough. It would be a pity to fight and lose, and worse to let in a Tory. Could there be some test-ballot or other form of healing disunion? I know nothing whatever about the supporters of Mr. Keay, or about Mr. Keay himself. We will do our best for Sir William, but would like to know what chance there is, and who are with him, and who are not.

    Your loving brother, C. H. SPURGEON.


    April 25, 1887.


    This man has been at four or five places since he left us, and has been very unwise. He asks me, “Well, what am I to do?” The people chose him, but Mr. very properly inquired into his antecedents, and said “No.”

    I hardly think he ought to remain in the ministry. He wants to live in a College House till he gets a place, but I think it would not be for the good of others. See him; pitch into him, and relieve his necessities. I don’t think we can do more.

    Have you any wishes or suggestions as to your jubilee? Your portrait for Sword and Trowel. I want one of the same form as mine for next month’s magazine. Will you send Passmore what you think the best one?

    Thanks to your dear wife for her note just received. I cannot tell where we shall be. I go to Brighton, but do not want it known. I shall send… my address as soon as I find a lodging.

    I have not seen an occasion for saying anything about Sunday boats in the park, and I always wait a seasonable time for speaking.

    A thousand thanks for your address, and all other aid of last week. I thought you exceeding happy in that address, and several men spoke of it with special fervor.

    Your loving brother, C. H. S.


    June 7, 1887.


    I desire for you all that you can desire for yourself and more. It has been a great joy to have you for a brother, not in flesh nor in name merely, but in the fullness of the truth, —

    in very deed and heart. However much I may have failed in my part, you have done yours to the full, in a way which I can better appreciate than describe. I am not able to remember a jarring feeling between us, and I do not suppose there ever will be one. Certainly the chances of it, if they ever existed, are effectually extinguished by the rare felicity of your choice in your present wedded state.

    Your wife was my friend long before you made her my sister, and certainly no brother or sister could be more desirable than you twain.

    Length of days, domestic bliss, bodily health, mental vigor, and heart repose are among the smallest of the blessings which I ask for you.

    I have joined others in two ways in the tokens of regard which will be mere hints of the respect in which you are held. Our love is with you ever.

    Your loving brother, C. H. SPURGEON.


    January, 1889.


    So glad you are better. Think the most hopeful things of me. I am quite uninjured as to brain, and that is the main thing.

    The knee must have time, but I begin to walk, go-cart fashion, with a chair.

    Cough is better, but voice weak.

    I have been nearly wiped out, but the blaster’s touch is putting in the main lines, and the colors and tones will follow.

    I never was a “plaque” for exhibition, but with a rivet or two the plate will be good enough for a few more feedings of the multitude. Get well. Keep well. Love to all.

    I will come home when I can move. At present I am fixed for want of fixings.

    Your loving brother, CHARLES.


    October 18, 1890.


    We have a stiff week before us. Monday, at 3.o, laying stone. Tuesday, at Malden, at 11.0. Wednesday, funeral at Tabernacle, at 2.0. Will you go to the house,12.30, and to the grave? I will preach in Tabernacle.

    I cannot see how I am to get an address for teachers on Monday night, and get my sermon done in the morning before I start for Penrose Street. The Lord help us.

    With much love, C. H. S.


    December 8, 1890.


    It may seem childish, but I am full of pleasure this morning because I have dressed myself for the first time. My hand is not yet handy, but you see I can write handsomely. I am coming up to the surface, and no longer belong to “the submerged tenth.”… Today is perfect. Every moment seems to do me good. I feel very feeble, and, after a drive, need to lie down; but the mischief has passed over, I trust.

    Robertson’s sermon is printed. Do see it. He must be a sensation to hear.

    May you have milder weather. My love to your lovely wife and children and yourself. I have to be penurious with my pen, for the hand soon aches.

    Your friend, Mr. A., has written me a most loving, cheering letter and I have replied. I will write dear father tomorrow.

    Not many people in Mentone. All the better for my quiet. Mr. W. O. writes a first-rate letter. He will help fill his father’s place I trust.

    May you be kept up during my absence. I wish I were not forced to prolong it; but what else can I do? Love to all our brotherhood.

    Yours ever lovingly, C. H. SPURGEON.


    October 8, 1891.


    I am creeping on like a snail; but I am going upward with my horns out in hope of making a sure end. My love

    our love to you all at Campbelton.

    The enclosed will need a little attention from you. I have written. This is a dear family.

    A great crowd surrounded the gate this morning to see me drive out. Dear souls, it meant a good deal from many of them. God bless you.

    Your grateful brother, CHARLES.



    Have no idea where I am. You have heard that I am going to the Healthy Islands. People are so inquisitive. Your loving brother, CHARLES.


    May 18.


    All goes well but wearily. I hear you had a great time last Sunday. The Lord abide with you still, and make you more and more blessed in your work. These people seem resolved to eat me up. I cannot go from station to station without being besieged by gazing throngs. Every halt of the train means a deputation, a crowd, and a cheer. Each town, besides its preaching, has its breakfasting, dining, suppering, till I am overdone, and half dead therewith.

    I am so longing to rest. But I am very wonderfully helped in preaching.

    Certainly, I never felt more liberty or power.

    God bless you, dear brother. I don’t often say much to you about how deeply I love you for your ever kind generous affection; but I think you know I do value you quite as well as if I were demonstrative.

    Please give my kindest love to Emily, who is also a dear creature.

    Your loving brother, CHARLES.



    May the Lord be very remarkably with you, and indeed with all the friends to-night. I feel a sweet repose of mind in what is being done, feeling, indeed, that my being cast into the deep sleep of inaction is a most profitable process, since I perceive that a helpmeet is being found for me.

    What I might have wished for in vain, all being well, comes to me most evidently from heaven, all being better than well.

    Now do not come to see me to-morrow, but rest as much as you can. You must not knock up, or two cripples will be worse than one.

    Better, but broken-backed, and broken-kneed. No dealer would buy me except for cats’ meat, and I’m not worth so much for that as I was, for I am many pounds lighter.

    My warmest love abides with you.

    Your own brother, CHARLES.


    Thursday, Dec., 1850.


    Your name is so long that it will almost reach across the paper. We have one young gentleman in our school whose name is Edward Ralph William Baxter Tweed; the boys tease him about his long name; but he is a very good boy, and that makes his name a good one. Everybody’s name is pretty, if they are good people. The Duke of Tuscany has just had a little son; the little fellow was taken to the Catholic Cathedral, had some water put on his face, and then they named him —

    you must get Eliza to read it —

    Giovanni Nepomerceno, Maria Annunziata Guiseppe Giovanbaptista Ferdinando Baldassere Luigi Gonzaga Pietro Allesandro Zanobi AntonMo.

    A pretty name to go to bed and get up with; it will be a long time before he will be able to say it all the way through! If anyone is called by the name of Christian, that is better than all these great words: it is the best name in the world, except the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. My best love to you. I hope you will enjoy yourself, and try to make others happy, too; for then you are sure to be happy yourself; whereas, if you only look out to please yourself, you will make others uncomfortable, and will not make even yourself happy. However, of course, you know that, and I need not tell you of it. A happy Christmas to you!

    Your loving brother, CHARLES


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