The fact is, he had
more power of keeping peace and order in the very poor part of London,
back of Westminster, where he lived, than had any dignitary of the
Church, any rector, any curate, or any minister, be he of what
persuasion he might. Father John was very humble about himself. Indeed,
one secret of his success lay in the fact that he never thought of
himself at all.
Having preached on this Saturday evening, as was his wont, to a larger
crowd than usual, he went home. As he walked a passer-by could have seen
that he was lame; he used a crutch. With the winter rain beating on him
he looked insignificant. Presently he found the house where he had a
room, went up the stairs, and entered, opening the door with a
latch-key. A fire was burning here, and a small paraffin lamp with a red
shade over it cast a warm glow over the little place. The moment the
light fell upon Father John his insignificance vanished. That was a
grand head and face which rose above the crippled body. The head was
high and splendidly proportioned. It was crowned with a wealth of soft
brown hair, which fell low on the shoulders. The forehead was lofty,
straight, and full; the mouth rather compressed, with firm lines round
it; the eyes were very deep set--they were rather light gray in color,
but the pupils were unusually large. The pupils and the peculiar
expression of the eyes gave them a wonderful power.
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