ELLEN BUCHAN.
She was the pride
Of her familiar sphere,--the daily joy
Of all who on her gracefulness might gaze,
And in the light and music of her way
Have a companion's portion. Who could feel,
While looking upon beauty such as hers,
That it would ever perish?--WILLIS.
That night, and for many days, Hubert knew no peace; sleeping or waking,
Harris was ever in his thoughts; turn where he would, there was a
remembrance of his dead companion, the loss of whom he deeply mourned.
Out of health himself, his bereavement was more felt, especially as he
was unable to seek other comrades with whom he might drive gloomy
thoughts away. At other times, when he had been ill, Harris had ever
sought him; but now, no one save those who waited upon him entered his
room, and he began to hate the sound of their footsteps, because he felt
that he paid for their sympathy. Poor Harris! how he missed him; how
long the days seemed, and how slow his recovery! Who shall say it was
not an opportunity vouchsafed by the Almighty to bring back his own
wandering soul? Why did he not pray in his hours of distress? No; the
heart long used to the neglect of that holy privilege and duty but ill
knows how to fly to the throne of grace in the hour of woe, and too
often throws back the hand of God with ungrateful murmurings. Hubert
never once poured out his burden of distress, never once looked to that
loving God whose eye, notwithstanding his wickedness, watched over him
with a father's love, but fretted and repined at the calamity which had
befallen him, until every pure and good feeling fled away once more, and
he began to be as cold and callous about the death of poor Harris as he
was about other things.
Time, the great soother of woe in the human heart, threw its power over
Hubert; as it passed, it brought him returning health, and, once again
mingling in the busy scenes of his profession, the wounded arm, the dead
companion, and the warning, all shared the doom of the other events of
his life: they were gone, and he was happy in forgetting them. The
difficulty into which he had fallen with respect to his money matters,
however, taught him a lesson; and though he again joined the society of
many of his former companions, he never again fell into that terrible
vice which had so nearly ruined his worldly prospects.
Some weeks had passed away; all the little effects belonging to poor
Harris were being collected, for the captain of his company had found
amongst some letters the names of some of the poor fellow's relations in
England. Hubert heard of what was being done, and one morning, meeting
the doctor of the regiment, they began talking the matter over. "I can
tell you where his mother lives," said Hubert, "if you will step into my
rooms; for now I remember it, I have by me a little note for her,--at
least I have her address upon it."
They walked along together, talking of various matters, and having
reached Hubert's rooms he took from a little desk a small piece of
paper, and, without a thought, said, as he handed it to the doctor, "I
think you'll find it on that."
The doctor read the note, and as he did so a sad expression stole over
his face, and then, looking at Hubert, he said, "Oh, Goodwin, what a
letter! Poor Harris! What a warning for us all. And what an escape you
had; the ball passed you, but it pierced his lungs. It might have been
your lot; though I trust a better account than this would have been sent
home of you."
"Come now, doctor, no preaching; I cannot tell what account will be
given of me when I'm knocked off."
"A true one, I have no doubt," was the reply.
"Perhaps so; but I don't care what people say; I do my duty, no one can
deny that, and soldiers can't be preachers."
"But they can be Christians, and find as much need of the Bible as the
sword. As much! Ah! more; it is a double weapon, a sword and a shield:
try it, Goodwin, if you never have, and see if I am not correct. If any
man is in heaven, my father is; he was thirty-four years a soldier,
fought in forty-one battles, and had as many wounds. And what preserved
him? What made him go cheerfully through all the trials of a soldier's
life? What made his name honoured and respected, as you yourself have
often observed? Was it the battles he fought, or the fame he won? No. He
read his Bible every day of his life, and tried to live as that holy
book says men ought to live. He infused, by God's help, the same spirit
into his company, and many a year must roll by before the words, 'Good
Captain Martin,' will cease to be heard; and the influence of his
example will linger still longer. No one can tell the power of example;
and it is a serious reflection that we each have to answer for the
amount we exercise over our fellow creatures."
Hubert had thrown himself into an easy chain, and, with his hands thrust
into his pockets, he silently listened to the doctor; but now he
replied: "But surely we cannot possibly help persons imitating what we
do. I don't see that we are to be responsible for the folly and evil
deeds of others."
"Certainly not, Goodwin; but still, how can we be sure that our conduct
has not caused many of the deeds you mention? Thousands of noble-hearted
pure-minded youths who have entered the army have been ruined, both in
body and soul, by the example of some wicked comrade."
"Do you refer to Harris?" asked Hubert, starting up from his seat;
"because if you do, I may tell you at once that I am not going to be
accused of anything he did. If he chose to make a fool of himself, it is
nothing to me: my conscience is clear."
"I refer to truth," said the doctor, "and my own experience; and if we
would only ask ourselves how far our conduct will affect those around
us, we should be better men. Man _will_ imitate, and it is what he
imitates that ennobles or debases him; it is example which has filled
the heart of man with all that is good and noble, and it has also helped
to make up long catalogues of crime. Our blessed Saviour knew the power
of it when He said to His disciples, 'Be ye perfect, as I am perfect.'"
The calm and gentle manner of the doctor subdued Hubert's rising anger,
and as he listened to him _he_ also felt the deep power of example.
Before any other man who had dared to refer to Harris, as his heart told
him the doctor had done, he would have given way to the passion which
his guilty conscience prompted; but there was an overpowering influence
in the calm demeanour of that good man, which Hubert felt; and when he
was gone the room seemed very lonely, and Hubert paced it with rapid
stride, as he thought over the past: the life he had led and was still
leading, the dead Harris, and the warning note smote upon his memory,
and he wished--oh, how earnestly he wished!--that he were but half like
that good man who had just left him. It was a difficult matter, however,
for Hubert to profit much by what had transpired; the wish to lead a
better life was earnest enough, but old habits and evil associates had
forged their chains of fascination round him, and he went out to seek
company which would soon snap the silver cord of purity that was
beginning once more to form holy tracery on his heart.
Thus it ever is with the heart that is continually striving against the
influences and power of the Spirit. To keep down the still small voice
of conscience, nothing is so effectual as the whirlwind of pleasure, and
man runs headlong from one sin to another, until the fatal hour dawns
when God's Spirit will no longer strive. Repeated warnings disregarded,
and opportunities neglected, ruined Hubert's better nature: in scenes
of dissipation the germs of holiness perished, and he sank down deep,
deeper still into sin, growing older in wickedness as he grew stronger
in manhood, belying, as many do, the noble image on his brow by the mark
of _Cain_ upon his heart.
It was seldom that the regiment to which Hubert belonged remained longer
than a few years in one place, so that his stock of worldly possessions
had not greatly increased; but it was eighteen years since he left home,
and he was now about changing into another regiment, one more stationary
than his own, and marrying the daughter of an old English resident at
Agra. During the time Hubert had been in India, he had experienced many
vicissitudes often marching through the country, often in battle, and
occasionally sick and in hospital. He had grown from the pretty rosy boy
to a tall, dark sunburnt man, and was now a captain. In military things
he had improved; but though of those who went out with him to India more
than half had either fallen in battle or died of disease, nothing
softened his heart, and it was a wicked boast he frequently made in the
mess-room, that when he was unable to fight any longer he would think
about going home and being religious. Thus he went on wasting the vigour
of his life, tempting by his blasphemy the merciful God that was sparing
him, neglecting every opportunity for repentance, and occasionally
tearing up his Bible.
The doctor, who had been nearly the same time in the regiment that
Hubert had, but who in age was ten years his senior, never lost an
opportunity of trying to influence the soldiers for good. Many a rebuff
was the reward of the good man's efforts, but he never wearied. Hubert,
though he listened to him once, had grown vain with his military
promotion, and shunned the good man who had once brought his heart near
to heaven. Dr. Martin, however, never lost sight of the reckless sinner,
but breathed many a sigh as he thought of one so gifted, and placed so
far above the wants of life, rushing fast to his ruin; and then he
prayed, with all the earnestness of a devoted heart, that God's Spirit
would stay him in his course of sin.
Like a gleam of light upon a darkened object came the intelligence that
Hubert was about to be married to Ellen Buchan. Nearly every one in
Agra knew her, and there were but few who did not also know how good she
was; she and her family were distinguished for their piety, and many a
darkened soul in the idolatrous city where they resided learnt by their
teaching and example to place Christianity above the idol-worship of
their childhood, and became followers of the meek and lowly Jesus.
Surely such companionship as Ellen Buchan would be a blessing to Hubert,
and a change must come upon him, else he would be no helpmate for one so
good as she was; and the doctor wondered whether a change had not
already come over him, by his having expressed an intention of moving
into another regiment.
How fervently he hoped that it might be so; and though he now seldom
exchanged a word with Hubert, he did not forget him, but still hoped
that he might lead a better life. Imperceptibly to Hubert, a change had
indeed stolen over him since he knew Ellen; many of his old haunts were
forsaken, former friends were given up, and Hubert had something to bear
from the taunting words and manners of his old associates; but he had
other thoughts, new habits were being formed, life had a thousand
charms, and his face beamed more joyous and more handsome every day; his
chief desire was to sell out, and purchase in the regiment stationed at
Agra. A few disappointments attended Hubert's change of regiment: it was
delayed longer than he had expected; still, the matter was now, to all
appearance, nearly settled, and preparations were being made for the
marriage. If Hubert had ever been thoroughly happy, he appeared so now:
his past life, with all its associations, was absorbed in the present,
in Ellen every thought was centred.
Alas! how frail are man's hopes. One sultry evening a messenger came to
tell Hubert to come at once to Mr. Buchan's, for something had happened.
With a beating heart and hurried step he hastened to the house, but
there was sorrow there. Ellen had been complaining all day, and, as the
evening drew on, her illness increased, and she was found to be
suffering from fever. Hubert was frightened, for the fever had been
prevalent, and frequently fatal. That night and the next day he stayed
at the house, and then, how dreadful came the intelligence that her
life was despaired of! Now Hubert felt, perhaps for the first time in
his life, the bitter woe of hopes all crushed; for the thought of losing
Ellen was terrible. What could he do! All around him was a scene of woe.
Changed he apparently was in his conduct and habits, but his heart was
the same, and his sorrow gave way to murmuring and raving about the
affliction. How earnestly he hoped for her recovery, yet how unchastened
was his spirit! for upon meeting Dr. Martin, who, after inquiring about
Ellen, added kindly, "I hope, if only for your sake, she will recover,"
he replied sharply, "Sir, you hope nothing of the kind; if she dies you
will upbraid and taunt me." Unjust and cruel as this remark was, the
doctor pitied and forgave him, and stood gazing after him as he turned
away.
Ellen died. We need not tell the deep bereavement it was to all who
loved her. Reader! it matters nothing to thee; but there was a home made
desolate, and more than one heart riven. Such is life! A time will come
when the deep mystery of such dealings shall be explained; till then,
hope on! trust on! believe on! Satan would tempt thee in the weak,
trying hour to doubt, but remember God does not willingly afflict; the
finest gold has been seven times purified, and happy is he who can look
upward, even though it be through his tears, and say, "It is thy will,
Lord; do with me as it seemeth thee good."
All who knew Hubert pitied him under the deep affliction which had
befallen him, and for a time his spirit bowed beneath it; he overcame
it, however, sooner than many had expected, joined himself again to many
of his old companions, and gave up all intention of selling out of his
regiment, and very soon he bade farewell to the friends he had made in
Agra, and moved with his regiment to a station further up the country.