Ok didnt take long....This is a long passage with most information in the beginning.
Source:http://afinitas.org/Spoor/EarnestPreacher/chapter1.html

Important bits:
They had so many words current among them peculiar to themselves, that keelish is jocularly called a language in the Tyne district. This was the case in the use of nicknames by which keelmen spoke of each other. One was called Posser, another Dichard, a third Shockram. It is said that William Spoor bore one of these sobriquets. A "pee dee," having as its probable etymon the old French word pedissque, was a keelish description of a boy whose duties were steering the boat at times and attending upon the men when loading or discharging.

The Earnest Preacher

MEMOIRS
OF THE
REV. JOSEPH SPOOR

CHAPTER I

The late Rev. Joseph Spoor was born June 2nd, 1813, at Whickham, a picturesque village on the long, sloping banks of the Tyne, where the valley of the Derwent opens out into the Tyne valley, about four miles in a direction west of Newcastle. He was the oldest of the numerous family of William and Catherine Spoor. William Spoor was, by profession, a "Keelman." From immemorial times this class of workmen may be said to have held undisputed possession of the Tyne. In the old charters of Tynemouth Priory they are called "Kelers." By means of their "keels" (a short, shallow, and broad kind of barge) vessels were laden and unladen, and the principal traffic of the river was carried on. The keel has not much altered either in name or shape since Anglo-Saxon times. The boats by which the Northmen came to England were called Chiules, being in all likelihood the origin of the present craft. The vessel seems to be peculiar to the Tyne, and is a sort of institution closely identified with the past life of Tyneside, one of the most popular local ballads being named, "Weel may the keel row." Time was when the keel, pulled by sturdy oarsmen, performed the work now done by the steam-tug: five or six keels, the number of course determined by the size of the ship, drawing the vessel up or down the river. At the early part of this century, no fewer than sixty keel crews used to come up to Dunston, then the great entrepôt on the Durham side of the Tyne, to load coal. The keelmen lived mostly about Dunston, Swalwell, Whickham, and other contiguous villages. They had so many words current among them peculiar to themselves, that keelish is jocularly called a language in the Tyne district. This was the case in the use of nicknames by which keelmen spoke of each other. One was called Posser, another Dichard, a third Shockram. It is said that William Spoor bore one of these sobriquets. A "pee dee," having as its probable etymon the old French word pedissque, was a keelish description of a boy whose duties were steering the boat at times and attending upon the men when loading or discharging. At certain states of the tide the river was crowded with these unwieldy-looking boats, with their immense mainsail and lug-sail. An inexperienced observer might have concluded that collisions were inevitable, but their ungainly and lumbering appearance notwithstanding, they were steered by the keelman's hand with the greatest nicety. As a class, the keelmen were men of great physical resource, and performed feats of labour almost incredible. They were commonly exposed to the extremes of weather, melting heat in summer, and bitter cold and pelting storms in winter. But nothing appeared to affect, injure, or daunt them. In general they were daring and reckless, earning large sums of money, but spending most of it in drinking, gambling, and brutal sports. They were leaders in and promoters of the rough, rude, and boisterious games of the country side. There were frequent pugilistic encounters between them and other classes, especially pitmen and sailors. The rapid innovations of modern science have nearly made the race extinct, covering the face of the river with swift steam-boats, and the river banks with steam cranes and manifold and multiform machinery, so that keelmen are fast becoming an institution of the past.

To this class of operatives William Spoor belonged, and was a good specimen of his class for physical strength and development, for intelligence and morals. "But," writes Joseph Spoor afterwards, speaking of his parents, "they were ignorant of God and of His ways, and seldom if ever attended a place of worship." Thus the restraining and elevating influence of religion, as an element of education, was altogether wanting in his young life. Indeed his education was next to nil. His parents, however, can scarcely be considered blameworthy, as they were anxious that their son should be a "scholar." But school provision in those days for the working classes was very scant. "Dame schools" were the common seats of learning to the poor; and the curriculum was about as simple, easy, and rude as it could well be. In more favoured districts where there happened to be a zealous clergyman, or a few advanced and energetic laymen, a national school might be found. There was one in the neighbourhood of Whickham, to which young people were sent: and for several years Joseph continued to attend it, though his attendance was intermitting and his devotion to the slight studies of the school was faltering and heartless. He, however, penetrated into the mysteries of "the three R's," though not very far into the last two. He had a deep and settled dislike to the confinement and tasks of school. He wanted to be at work on the busy Tyne. So, seeing the hopelessness of all their attempts to keep him at school, his parents sent him to work in his eleventh year. His inclination leading him to the keels, he adopted his father's profession, and he was installed in his occupation as "pee dee." So here is the hardy keel "laddie" commencing his working life.

The surroundings of this boy were all injurious to his morals, what he saw in his associates, and what he heard from them being corrupting and deleterious. He soon conformed to their habits of dissipation. Generous, ardent, and passionate, his was the very nature likely to be influenced and moulded by such surroundings. The good attributes of his nature were thus perverted and prostituted. There must be an original substratum of noble parts and powers before there can be a great sinner; and these very powers, renewed and sanctified, make a great saint. But whatever vices Joseph Spoor became addicted to amongst his companions, his sister gives her distinct testimony that at home he was invariably decorous and kind. Away from home, however, his own testimony is, that his violent temper would brook no restraint. He became an habitual swearer, and an expert at cards, dancing, "heaving pelots," and he even speaks of taking a wicked part in many pugilistic encounters and scenes of drunkenness. Here is the common but sad spectacle, of a fine lad going woefully astray. The torrent of surrounding wickedness and immorality rushes violently on, and he on its bosom is borne far away from God and virtue. He was the slave and victim of stormy passions, of degraded companions, and of that "roaring lion" who goeth about seeking whom he may devour. He had been accustomed to attend the services of the church, but he soon learnt to desecrate the Lord's Day. He speaks of going sometimes with his boon companions "to church or meeting" to make sport, to create disturbance, or to ridicule professors. Were any reproof attempted, he resented it with passion and blows. Indeed, to use his own words, "he was never easy but when engaged in mischief."

In his exposed and dangerous avocation he had many mishaps and accidents. To see the keel with its unsheltered decks, the narrow margin of plank from stem to stern, one wonders how in a gale foothold can be kept at all. Several times was Joseph Spoor overboard; but living near the river he had learnt the art of swimming, and was noted for his expertness and facility as a diver and swimmer. On the occasions of his being thrown into the water this art stood him in good stead. But, his deftness in swimming notwithstanding, he was more than once nearly drowned by falling into the river under circumstances unusually dangerous. Once in particular, when dragged out of the water, he had all the appearance of being dead. The keel was employed at the time, in delivering the cargo of a ship at North Shields. He was standing on the plank extending between the keel and the hole in the ship's side through which the men were taking the goods, when it "gave way," and he was plunged into the river. The strong tide flowing at the time rendered all his attempts to save himself unavailing, he was swept along the ship's sides. And here a new danger appeared. What is called the "suction" of the vessel was so great that it drew him down under the ship with a force which he could not resist. When the plank broke a cry arose, "Joe's overboard!" Boats were instantly manned and got out, but on his not appearing on the surface, it was concluded that he must be drowned, and consternation sat upon every face. But the swift flowing tide which was against him when he first fell was his salvation now, as it proved stronger than the suction of the ship, and so carried him from under the vessel. He now rose unconscious to the surface, when the men in one of the keels seized him, dragged him into the boat, carried him ashore stretched on a board, and laid him down in the nearest public-house for dead. It was resolved to try, to restore him. The usual means were applied, and the well-nigh extinguished spark of life revived. In a few weeks he regained his ordinary bodily vigour. This narrow escape made a deep impression upon his young mind, alarmed him, and aroused a holy fear in his soul. But this was only temporary, for he soon relapsed into his usual hardness and ungodly course of life. He says: "All this was no warning to me, I ran on Gallio-like, caring for none of these things."

The fourteenth year of his age proved the crisis of his history. He was then arrested by the Holy Spirit, and brought to know himself, and the power of Christ to save sinners.

At that time a noted Wesleyan minister, the Rev. Hodgson Casson, was stationed in the Gateshead circuit. Of the holiness of this man's character and life, of his quenchless zeal in the work of the ministry, and his all-absorbing passion for the conversion of men, there can be no difference of opinion. In this one respect he rose to the sublime altitude of apostolic example — knowing nothing among men, but Christ and Him crucified. He laboured much in the Northern and North Western counties of England, and retained throughout his life the simple, homely habits and speech of his native Cumberland hills. He was an angular, odd, and eccentric man. When voting at a parliamentary election for Westmoreland county, in a memorable contest, fought by the then illustrious Henry Brougham, he, after giving his name and address to the polling clerk, was asked his occupation, when he replied, "A Fisher of Men." "What?" said the clerk, opening his eyes and surveying his strange interlocutor, "What?" he asked again. "A Fisher of Men, I tell you," replied the minister. It was treated at first as a joke he was playing at the expense of the clerk. Then he was entreated to give a proper description of his calling. But nothing could be got from him but, "I am a Fisher of Men." The attention of the popular candidate being called to this singular voter, he interrogated Casson; but to Henry Brougham the answer was the same as to the polling clerk. So Brougham ordered it to be inserted, and in the poll books it stands to this day, "Hodgson Casson, Fisher of Men."

No minister better deserved the description. His methods of "fishing" were frequently not after the approved manner; he resorted to novel and original expedients. For instance, he once adopted the following strange method of securing an entrance into a village as an evangelist, where all attempts to get in had been made in vain by his predecessors. Walking through the village, and seeing a woman washing her doorstep, he went past her into the house, to the great astonishment of the women, who immediately followed. He looked round the house and exclaimed, "This is the house!" The woman wondering, asked, "What is it the house for?" "This is the house, for me to preach in!" This made the woman storm and rage, crying out, "I'll have no preaching here; I'll let you know about preaching in my house!" Whereupon Casson took a piece of strong cord from his pocket, threw one end over a beam and made it fast, got a chair and stood on it, and was making the other end of the rope fast round his neck. The woman seeing this was horror-stricken, and ran out into the street shouting that a man was hanging himself in her house; in crowded the people till the house was full, when Casson came down, placed his chair against the door to prevent any one getting out, and there preached. God's Spirit came down upon the people, and several that day were converted to God. Soon the cause of Methodism grew, and gained an influential footing in the place.

The fearlessness and spiritual power of Casson were seen in his breaking up a saturnalia in a neighbouring village. He, in passing the public-house, saw a large number of young people half-intoxicated with strong drink, and fully intoxicated with licentiousness. At such a spectacle his holy indignation was roused, and he resolved by God's help to put a stop to the revelry. He lifted up his soul to God, and laid hold by faith of the Divine power, and then went in. Sitting down till there was a pause, he advanced to the fiddler, saying to him, "Can you play the Bleeding Lamb?" By the stern yet spiritual look of the questioner, and the strange tune asked for, the man was wonder-stricken, and admitted that he could not. "Then," said Casson, "I can, — I'll sing it." With his clear, rich voice, then in its best condition, he sang out —

"Christ hath died upon the tree,
Glory to the bleeding Lamb."

The whole company seemed electrified. Seeing his advantage he determined to follow it up, and in tones of mingled solicitation and command, he asked them to pray. He himself prayed, and as a prince he had power with God and prevailed. The dancing saloon became the place of weeping, penitence, and salvation. It has been well for Wesleyan Methodism that while it has had its Clarkes, Watsons, and Buntings, it has also had its Nelsons, its Smiths, its Cassons, and its Collinses.

Such was the man who came to the Tyneside villages where Joseph Spoor lived, and stirred them as they never had been stirred. Crowds were attracted by the report everywhere circulating as to the preacher's extraordinary pulpit-sayings and doings. But though curiosity seemed to be the prevailing motive acting on the popular mind, multitudes of souls "who came to mock, remained to pray." Among the crowds who flocked to see and hear this noted minister were three young people — Joseph Spoor, his sister Jane, and Thomas Jobling, who rose to the Missionary Secretariat of the Connexion, and whose useful and blameless life closed a few months before that of Mr. Spoor. The three went merely to see and hear the preacher, but met with Christ. The sermon, which was awfully alarming, was on the text, "The wicked shall be turned into hell." The preacher's manner was stern and solemn, his imagery bold and realistic even to literalness; he denounced the wrath of God upon the workers of iniquity in such unsparing terms that the congregation trembled, and stood aghast at this revelation of the terrors of the Lord; there was a shaking in the valley of dry bones. This expert "fisher of men" knew the utility of the "penitent form," that its use in dealing with men's souls is an application of the old adage, "Strike the iron while its hot," affording penitent persons the opportunity of avowing their resolves to be there and then the Lord's. Besides, it commits them practically and publicly to the convictions of their own minds, and thus helps them in their mental conflict; but its chief good is that it secures to them the aid and counsel of experienced persons.

Among those who went to the penitent form that night were these two lads and this girl; Joseph did not on that occasion secure the assurance of faith, and left the chapel before the service was concluded. He says, "I was in such misery that I took my hat and ran out of the chapel. I went home, but could not rest. I trembled from head to foot. I roared out in the disquietude of my spirit." He returned to the chapel door, but could not go in. He wandered aimlessly about the neighbourhood, trying all means he could devise to allay the storm in his soul. He was distracted; seeking rest, but finding none. The sense of sin was on him. This was the awakening hour of conscience. For a fortnight he struggled in the slough of despond, sinking deeper and deeper in the mire. He found, as Bunyan puts it, "that as the sinner is awakened about his lost condition, their ariseth in his soul many fears and doubts and discouraging apprehensions, which all of these get together and settle in this place." But at length the day of deliverance came, when the Holy Spirit revealed to his anxious and eager soul the sublimely simple plan of salvation by faith alone in Jesus. He accepted God's mercy as a free gift; renouncing everything, and clinging only to Christ, he was there and then made a new creature. Never did apostolic words find completer verification, "Old things are passed away, behold, all things are become new." He could say about his conversion what Luther said about his: "I passed at once from night to day, I was born anew, I saw the Scripture in a new light; it was as if the gates of Paradise were thrown open;" his own simple words are, "When God revealed His Son in my heart, I felt raptures most heavenly, I thought my sufferings were all at an end, I went about trying to persuade all I fell in with to come and find what I had found. I told them of my peace, my love, my joy. I feared not earth nor hell. As for temptation, I knew not what it meant; but I soon found it out, though I had months of bliss."

He became a Wesleyan Methodist; this was before he attained his fourteenth year. That their son and daughter should become "Methodists" was to such decent "Church people" as William and Catherine Spoor, offensive and disreputable; they saw no occasion for anything in religion beyond the decent routine of Church service. Here were these young people singing, praying, and shouting for very joy, and reading the Scriptures in all their spare time. They travelled for miles round about the country to love-feasts and special services, singing as they travelled, and realising the blessed truths they sang —

"Strong I am, for He is strong,
Just in righteousness divine:
He is my triumphal song;
All He has and is, is mine;
Mine, and yours, whoe'er believe;
On His name whoe'er shall call,
Freely shall His grace receive;
He is full of grace for all."

What were "argosies of wealth, rocks of diamond, mines of gold, — all the treasures that interlace the solid globe, and all the glories that burn in the solemn armies of the stars, to them who had "Christ in them, the hope of glory," whose love, as a sublime passion, was dominant in their souls; this heavenly passion complexioned and coloured everything, and they saw all things in its light. Well does the golden-mouthed Jeremy Taylor say, — "Love is the greatest thing that God can give us, for Himself is love; and it is the greatest thing we can give God, for it will also give ourselves, and carry with it all that is ours. The apostle calls it the bond of perfection: it is the old and it is the new, and it is the great commandment, for it is all the commandments — it is the fulfilling of the law. It does the work of all the other graces, without any instrument but its own immediate virtue." And these young people were, to use Wordsworth's words —

"Rich in love,
And sweet humanity, and were themselves,
By heaven above and earth below, most truly loved."

Thus these days of bliss passed on, their heavenborn souls rejoicing in the new revelations of Divine life and love vouchsafed unto them. The two young men accustomed themselves to regular and frequent meetings for reading the Word of God, singing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs, and praying in the Holy Ghost. They chose sequestered and out-of-the-way localities for their edifying exercises; their chief spiritual trysting spot being a large plantation adjoining the village, whose shady solitudes were often vocal with their shouts of prayer and praise.