time by others, but I cannot understand how it was that I, stooping from
the shore, with nothing to hold on by way of support, seized the little
fellow by the collar as he rose, and firmly held him in my grasp. He did
not struggle, but looked up in my face, and I down in his, and as I felt
my puny strength rapidly failing, the resolution was firm on my mind to
be drawn in and perish with him. There was not a question about it; I
can recall the very thought, as though it was of yesterday, and I am
positively certain that I should have tightened my hold in proportion as
the case became more desperate. It pleased God that, just then, some men
returning from work descried the figure of a little child stooping in a
most dangerous position over the deep water: they ran up, and while one
held me the other rescued the boy. My grasp was not unloosed until they
had him safe on shore: he was then insensible, and I lost every
recollection until I found myself still in the arms of the man who had
carried me in, while my mother and the rest were stripping the rescued
boy and chafing his limbs before a fire. It was much talked of, and many
a caress I got for what they considered heroism beyond my years; but
what heroism is like love? "Many waters cannot quench love, neither can
the floods drown it; if a man would give all the substance of his house
for love, it would utterly be contemned."
When my brother departed for Ireland, we left that sweet cottage and
went to reside in the village, in one better suited to the size of our
diminished family party. I had several young friends among the cadets,
in whom I took a warm interest, and whose occasional visits I endeavored
to make as profitable to them as might be. It is a sad thing to see a
boy, perhaps most carefully brought up by tender, and even Christian
parents, watched and kept as far as possible from all evil
communication, then thrown at once into a large public institution, and
exposed to every danger that can assail the youthful mind. A little
insight into human nature must show any candid person the extent of
mischief to be expected. Rarely do we find a case of conversion, with
establishment in grace, very early in life; and where it exists as
remarkably as in Jack, we may learn from his excessive dread of exposure
to temptation how vigilantly the young plant should be guarded. Let us
just suppose, what is indeed no sketch of imagination, but a slight
sketch of acknowledged reality--let us suppose a boy at the age when
they are eligible for those places, acquainted with the truth,
accustomed to Christian instruction, taught to look into the word of God
for daily direction, and to seek in prayer the daily supply of needful
grace: consider him as having remained under the eye of Christian
parents, or a schoolmaster who regards those committed to his care as
immortal beings, for whose well-doing while under his charge he is
responsible to God, and who therefore counsels them well, and banishes
to the utmost of his power, vice and profaneness from among them;
affording them the usual domestic means of grace, and seeing that they
are not neglected:--thus prepared, the lad enters upon a new scene,
where he finds himself surrounded by a large number of youthful
companions, all busy in qualifying themselves for a future career, we
will say in the service of their country. The first thing done is to try
the mettle of the new comer by putting upon him some insult, which if he
resents and offers to fight his way, he may be looked on with some
respect; but if he appear timid, or reluctant to retaliate, he may be
assured of becoming the object of a most harassing persecution for the
amusement of the thoughtless and the gratification of the cruel. In
either case, he passes an ordeal of great severity, particularly during
the night, when nothing is deemed too rough or alarming for the poor
stranger to encounter. I appeal to those who have passed it, whether
this is not enough to turn the brain of a weak-minded youth, or to
injure severely the body of a delicate one: I have myself known an
instance, in a great public seminary, wherein derangement and death
followed.
Supposing this well got over, the lad then finds that if there be any
among his new comrades disposed to keep up the practice of reading the
Scriptures and praying, they must do it as secretly as they would commit
a murder, and find it more difficult to accomplish than any crime that
could be named. There always will be a large proportion of ruffianly
characters among many boys; some naturally so, others made so by
example. These have the ascendency of course, and they will use it to
check and to stifle whatever might shine in contrast to themselves;
while, what with those unstable characters who always row with the
stream, and prudent ones who will not provoke hostility, and timid ones
who dare not, they meet with little if any opposition, but rule the
whole mass for evil. The youth, we will believe, sincerely desires to
preserve his integrity; but what can he do? Man in his best estate is a
frail, inconsistent being, liable to be blown about by every breath of
temptation, even when unfettered, and in full possession of all gospel
privileges; and what are we to expect from a boy who has never yet been
left to himself, or deprived of countenance and support? He sees none
watching over him, he hears no kind admonitory voice inviting him to
seek the way of peace and purity. His nature is corrupt, his heart is
deceitful, his soul cleaves to the dust, and he finds that by following
the bent of this perverse nature, by gratifying its lowest propensities,
and revelling in unhallowed things, he shall best purchase the good-
fellowship of those who have it in their power to make his life
miserable if he thwarts their will. His conscience loudly protests, and
calls on him to pray; but if he would do so, where is he to retire for
that purpose? Alone he cannot be; he has no separate apartment, and let
those who have tried it say what would be the consequence of his
kneeling down publicly to worship God. He may do it silently and
undiscovered in his bed; yes, if he can lift up his heart, and realize
the presence of the God of heaven, while the language of hell resounds
on every side. Even so, he has an enemy within, striving against the
right principle, and responding to all that his better feeling
repudiates. Then, too, wherewithal shall the young man cleanse his way,
if not by ruling himself according to the word of God? And how is he to
study that word? Does the parent who puts a Bible in his boy's
portmanteau know that the most blasphemous tissue of ribaldry and all
abomination, would be a more suitable gift, if it is intended that he
should exhibit it? These are awful questions, to be well considered by
those who are wavering as to the destination of a youth; and they apply
very widely throughout the land.
We all know the case of him whose heart has been swept and garnished;
and how much the last state is worse than the first, when Satan reënters
with his seven new companions. The very checks of conscience render the
fretted mind more restive; and the longer restrained, the more headlong
is the wild gallop into which the chafed spirit at last breaks. He who
trembled at a profane word, becomes an accomplished swearer; he whose
modesty was most retiring is foremost to glory in early depravity; he
whose hand was ever ready to relieve the poor, while his heart
sympathized in their sorrows, becomes the wanton spoiler and marauder
for the sake of a bold vaunt; he who shrunk from the approach of
profligate misleaders, now volunteers to harden new comers in the ways
of sin. The youth who with noiseless step trod the courts of the Lord's
house, and bent with lowly reverence in prayer, and listened with fixed
attention to the teacher's voice, now delights in shaming others out of
the semblance of devotion, and feigns, if he does not fall into it, the
profound sleep of a wholly uninterested actor in the tedious show of
public worship. Perchance some friend whose proximity to the place
admits of it may stretch out a helping hand, or lift an admonitory
voice, or proffer a little encouragement to strengthen the things that
remain, and which are ready to die: if so, both the helper and the
helped will be marked out for ridicule and reviling, if for nothing
worse.
Honorable men, after this world's course, who are themselves wholly in
the dark, verily believing that religion would turn a youth's brain and
unfit him for the active business of life, will feel it a part of their
duty to oppose every possible obstacle to such attempts at reclaiming
the young wanderers under their charge. I knew, and knew right well, an
instance wherein a lady who strove to do good to the souls of some young
lads whose parents she knew to be praying people, had a sort of ban put
upon her, by the publication of an express order that they should not be
again permitted to visit her; and when a nobleman who well knew that she
had not done any thing to merit such public condemnation, asked the
principal of the institution the reason for so harsh a proceeding, he
received this answer: "My lord, I was sorry to do it; I felt it a
painful duty, but an imperative one. The fact is, she got hold of some
of the most promising lads under my care, and so infected them with her
own gloomy notions that, I give you my word, they were seen walking
alone, with Bibles in their hands." So much wiser are the children of
this world in guarding those committed to them from the entrance of
spiritual good, than are the children of light in protecting their
dearest treasures from the contamination of most deadly evil.
But to return to my cadets at Sandhurst. I had two young friends there,
both Irish, who were known to me from childhood; both greatly attached
to my brother; both loving me dearly; and many a happy hour we passed,
strolling over the wild heath, or enjoying the cheerfulness of my
cottage home. On those two, among many, I looked with especial
solicitude as to their future course; and I have had to rejoice, in
different ways, over them both. One was early taken to his rest; he died
in the faith, looking simply to the Lord Jesus, and finding perfect
peace in him. The other was long away on foreign service, and when next
I saw him it was as the deliverer, under God, of a whole town, and
probably through that of the whole kingdom, from a scene of
revolutionary carnage. He commanded the gallant little body of troops at
Newport who, on the 4th of November, 1839, quelled the Chartist
insurrection, and broke the formidable power that menaced a general
outbreak. I cannot pass over this event, it was so delightfully
gratifying to me.
A third of those in whom I took a lively interest was Alexander Count
Calharez, the eldest son of the Duc de Palmella. He was a most elegant
youth, of fine mind, delicate feelings, and the sweetest manners
possible. Devotedly attached to Romanism, he constantly attended mass at
the house of the old abbé, who added to his professorship in the Royal
Military College the duties of a Popish priest. It was a sore grief to
me to see Calharez pursuing his solitary way to that house, while we
took the road to the college chapel, and met him half-way. I longed to
enter a solemn protest against his delusion, but I never did it in
direct terms, though very often dwelling, in his presence, on the
peculiar truths of Christianity, opposed as they are to the lie in which
he trusted. I hoped to have enjoyed many future opportunities of
conversing with him, for he always sought our society in preference to
many things that appeared more attractive, and took a lively interest in
Jack. But the college did not suit his taste; he left it soon and
accompanied his father to Portugal. He died at the Azores; and I have
been told that his hope at the last was one which maketh not ashamed. He
was the subject of many prayers; the last day will tell whether they
were answered.
But I cannot hasten through the heaviest part of my task; it is the
rending open of a wound never to heal until the leaves of the tree of
life shall be laid upon it; and if by any means I do attain to that
resurrection from among the dead in which none but the Lord's children
shall partake, surely the dear object of all this sorrow will be there
beside me.
Six months had passed since my brother's departure to Ireland, and all
his letters were full of cheerfulness and pleasant anticipation. On the
subject where I most wished to know his feelings, he was silent; but a
passage in one of his letters struck me greatly. I had been suffering
from a slight local pain, which one of my medical friends erroneously
pronounced to be a disease of the heart; and in communicating this to
him I had noticed, that I must live in momentary expectation of sudden
death. His reply was very affectionate. He said it had given him a great
shock, but on a little reflection he was convinced of its being
altogether a nervous sensation; adding, "If not, why should you shrink
from sudden death? For my own part, I should desire it, as a short and
easy passage out of this life." A tremor came over me as I read these
words; but again I thought, "Surely there is something on his mind to
brighten that passage, or he would not so express himself;" and the
thought of many perils surrounding him quickened me to redoubled prayer
that God would set his feet upon the Rock of ages.
It was on a bright Sabbath morning at the end of June, that having
rather overslept myself, I found, on awaking, the letters brought by
early post lying on my pillow. I took one: it was the Horse Guards
envelope, in which his letters usually came; and in my eagerness to open
one from him, I did not even put up a prayer. Full of smiling
anticipation, I unfolded the enclosure, which was from a most dear and
valued friend at the Horse Guards; and after some tender preparation,
which the sudden reeling of my terrified brain prevented my
comprehending, came the paralyzing sequel: A letter had been received
from Mullingar--he was on the lake fishing--the boat overset. I could
not understand the meaning of the words; but I understood the thing
itself.
I sprung to my knees to cry for mercy on him--but Oh, that dreadful,
dreadful thought that pierced through my inmost soul--"He is beyond the
reach of prayer." I fell back as if really shot. But what avails it to
dwell on this? I bore it as God enabled me; I felt crushed, annihilated
as it were, under the fierce wrath of the Lord; for to aggravate the
blow, I had no power to believe or to hope. It was a light thing to have
lost him, my all in this cold, dreary world, who from early infancy had
been as the light to my eyes, and the life-blood to my heart--him who
had so very lately been restored, as if to show that while he remained
all I could desire of earthly happiness was within my reach--him who had
been to me instead of every other mortal blessing, and to whom I looked
for all that I dared hope of future comfort. It was a light thing to
have lost him, and to look upon the anguish of his widowed mother, to
whom he had ever been more of a ministering angel than a son, and upon
the tears of his little daughter, who had lost a father indeed. All this
was a small matter compared with the overwhelming horrors of that
fearful thought, that _he_ had lost his soul.
I had fallen much into the common, dangerous error of looking to my own
faith rather than to the object of it for salvation; and I did in my
heart, exceedingly glory in this supposed faith of mine. The dreadful
dispensation under which I was laid showed me at once, that of faith I
had not to the value of a grain of mustard-seed; and now I felt the
desolation of spirit which none can know who have not been so compelled
to make such a discovery. I did not rebel; I owned the justice of God:
nay, the very first words I could find breath to utter broke forth in
the confession, "Righteous art thou, O Lord; just and true are thy ways,
O King of saints!" But it was a fearful trembling beneath the hand that
had smote me; and as for being contented to have it so, I was not: I do
not wish that I had been contented to believe my brother was lost; I do
not understand that feeling, nor wish to understand it; for surely while
we remain in the flesh, we cannot divest ourselves of what God has
interwoven with our very nature, nor cease to feel for the spiritual,
the eternal interests of those most fondly endeared to us--a solicitude
as great, aye, much greater, than what we, in our unconverted state,
once knew in regard to their temporal concerns. I speak of those
instances where, after being ourselves brought to know the Lord, we have
labored and prayed perseveringly for others, and then have suddenly lost
them. I was not content to think that my prayers had been cast out: I
wanted some token that they had been answered. Blessed be the God of all
mercies, I was not disappointed. * * *
Meanwhile, what a tenfold recompense for all the care bestowed on him
did I reap in the beautiful sympathy of the dumb boy. When I came down
stairs that dreadful morning, he met me with a face of such wild dismay
as even then arrested my attention. He uttered an audible "Oh!" of most
touching tone, and thus expressed the impossibility he felt of realizing
the tidings: "Jack _what_? Jack asleep? Jack see, no--think, no.
Jack afraid, very. Beautiful Captain B---- gone?--dead? _What_?"
and he stamped with the impatience of that fearfully inquisitive
_what_. I answered, "Captain B---- gone; water kill--dead." Tears
stole down his loving face as he responded, "Poor mam! Mam one;" meaning
I was now alone in the world. "God see poor mam one; Jesus Christ love
poor mam one." With a feeling of bitter agony I asked him, "What? Jesus
Christ love Captain B----?" "Yes," he replied, after a moment's solemn
thought on the question, "Yes, Jack much pray; mam much pray; Jesus
Christ see much prays." This was true comfort; all the eloquence of all
the pulpits in England could not have gone to my heart like that
assurance, that Jesus Christ had _seen_ his many dumb prayers on
behalf of that lost--Oh, I could not, even in the depth of my
unbelieving heart, say, "lost one." I again asked the boy, "Jack
_much_ prays?" He answered with solemn fervency, "Very, very much
prays. Jack pray morning, pray night; Jack pray church, pray bed. Yes,
Jack many days, very, pray God make"--and he finished by signs, that
wings should be made to grow from my brother's shoulders, for him to fly
to heaven, adding, _Jesus Christ must make the wings;_ and then,
with a burst of delighted animation, he told me that he was a "very tall
angel, very beautiful."
I have repeated this conversation to show the broken language carried on
between us; and also how powerfully he expressed his thoughts. Soon
after, when I was nearly fainting, a glass of water was held to my lips.
I am ashamed to say, I dashed it down, exclaiming, "That murderer!" Jack
caught my eye, and echoing my feelings, said, in a bitter way, "Bad
water!" then with a look of exulting contempt at the remaining fluid, he
added, "Soul gone water? No!" This idea, that the soul was not drowned,
electrified me; so good is a word spoken in due season, however trite a
truism that word may be.
That night I pretended to go to bed, that others might do so too; and
then I left my room, went to my little study, which was hung round with
Jack's sweet drawings, and sat down, resting my elbows on the table, my
face on my hands, and so remained for a couple of hours. Day had
scarcely broken, brightly upon me, about two in the morning, when the
door opened softly, and Jack entered, only partially dressed, his face
deadly pale, and altogether looking most piteously wretched. He paused
at the door, saying, "Jack sleep, no; Jack sick, head bad--no more see
beautiful Captain B----." I could only shake my head, and soon buried my
face in my hands again. However, I still saw him through my fingers; and
after lifting up his clasped hands and eyes in prayer for me, he
proceeded to execute the purpose of his visit to that room. Softly,
stealthily, he went round, mounting a chair, and unpinned from the wall
every drawing that contained a ship, a boat, or water under any form of
representation. Still peeping at me, hoping he was not observed, he
completed this work, which nothing but a mind refined to the highest
degree of delicate tenderness could ever have prompted, and then
stopping at the door, cast over his shoulder such a look of desolate
sorrow at me, that its very wretchedness poured balm into my heart. Oh
what a heavenly lesson is that, "Weep with them that do weep," and how
we fly in its face when going to the mourner with our inhuman, cold-
blooded exhortations to leave off grieving. Even Job's tormenting
friends gave him seven days' true consolation while they sat silent on
the earth weeping with him.
But God put into the dumb boy's heart another mode of consolation, which
I must recount as a specimen of his exceedingly original and beautiful
train of thought. He used to tell his ideas to me as if they were things
that he had seen: and now he had a tale to relate, the day after this,
which riveted my attention. He told me my brother went on the lake in a
little boat, and while he was going along the devil got under it, seized
one side, pulled it over, and caught my brother, drawing him down to the
bottom, which, as he told me, was deep, deep, and flames under it. Then
Jesus Christ put his arm out of a cloud, reached into the water, took
the soul out of the body, and drew it into the sky. When the devil saw
the soul had escaped, he let the body go, and dived away, crying, Jack
said, with rage, while the men took it to land. The soul, he continued,
went up, up, up; it was bright, and brighter, "like sun--all light,
beautiful light." At last he saw a gate, and inside many angels looking
out at him; but two very small angels came running to meet the soul; and
when he saw them, he took them up into his arms, kissed them, and
carried them on towards the gate, still kissing and caressing them. I
was amazed and utterly at a loss, and said, "Two angels? What? Mam not
know; what?" He looked at me with a laugh of wonder; pointed to my head
and the wooden table, and replied--his usual way of calling me stupid--
"Doll mam! Two small boys, dead, Portugal." My brother had lost two
babes in Portugal; and thus exquisitely, thus in all the beauty of true
sublimity, had the untaught deaf and dumb boy pictured the welcome they
had given their father on approaching the gate of heaven.
A day or two after, some kind, sympathizing relations and friends being
assembled at the dinner-table, something cheerful was said, which
excited a general smile: Jack was in the act of handing a plate; he
looked round him with a face of stern indignation, set down the plate,
said, "Bad laughing!" and walked out of the room, stopping at the door
to add to me, "Mam, come: no laughing! Gone; dead." I had not smiled;
and this jealous tenaciousness of such a grief, on the part of an
exceedingly cheerful boy, was the means of soothing more than any other
means could have done it, the anguish of that wound which had pierced my
very heart's core. These were a small part of the munificent wages that
my Master gave me for nursing a child of his.
My first act had, of course, been to adopt my brother's son--the "baby
boy"--now five years old, who had been since he first showed his little
round face in England, my own peculiar treasure. I begged him as a
precious boon, and for his sake bore up against the storm of sorrow that
was rending me within. Jack fell into a decline, through the depression
of his spirits in seeing me suffer; for to conceal it from one who read
every turn of my countenance was impossible; and I should have been well
content to sink also, but for the powerful motive set before me. Under
God, who gave him to me, you may thank your young friend for what little
service I may have rendered in the cause you love, since 1828; for the
prospect which by the Lord's rich mercy is so far realized, of seeing
him grow up a useful, honorable member of society, with right
principles, grounded on a scriptural education, was what enabled me to
persevere against every difficulty and every discouragement that could
cross my path. I set up a joyful Ebenezer here; and I ask your prayers
that the blessing may be prolonged, increased, perfected, even to the
day when we shall all meet before the throne of God. * * *