In Spurgeon's time London's streetlights burned gas but still had to be lit individually. It is to this practice that Spurgeon is referring to the following note:
Coming one Thursday in the late autumn from an engagement beyond Dulwich, my way led up to the top of the Herne Hill ridge. I came along the level out of which rises the steep hill I had to ascend.
While I was on the lower ground, riding in a handsome cab, I saw a light before me, and when I came near the hill, I marked that light gradually go up the hill, leaving a train of stars behind it. This line of new-born starts remained in the form of one lamp, and then another and another. It reached from the foot of the hill to its summit.
I did not see the lamplighter. I do not know his name, nor his age, nor his residence; but i saw the lights which he had kindled, and these remained when he himself had gone his way.
As I rode along I thought to myself, "How earnestly do i wish that my life may be spent in lighting one soul after another with the sacred flame of eternal life! I would myself be as much as possible seen while at my work, and would vanish into eternal brilliance above when my work is done.
Arnold Dallimore, Spurgeon P.162
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