The Broken Fence.
On a high hill, in a mountainous part of the Punjaub, was built a house
goodly and fair. In this dwelt a lady, whose name was Ashley Sahiba. In
her heart was much love to God, and much love for poor little Indian
children. Under the care of this lady were many girls; some of them were
orphans, and some of them had parents who lived in the plains, and who
wished their children to enjoy the cooler air of the hills. These parents
were glad to have their daughters under the care of Ashley Sahiba, who
would not only teach them to read and write and work, but who would also
try to teach them to be gentle, obedient, and pious.[40] Ashley Sahiba
prayed much with the children and for the children, and there was not one
of the girls who had not a place in her heart.
But there was one of the girls who was a cause of much trouble and sorrow
to the lady. The name of this girl was Ghuldasta. There were two things
in her that occasioned this trouble and sorrow. The first thing was that
Ghuldasta had a strange kind of blindness. She could see, and see well,
every object that was but a few inches from her, so that she could read,
and write, and sew,—and she did these things as well as any other girl
in the school; but Ghuldasta could see nothing at even a foot’s distance
from her eyes. The girl never saw the path before her, and therefore
often stumbled over things that lay in her way, and had many painful
falls; for Ghuldasta scorned a careful walk, and never asked for a guide.
Ghuldasta had a little ivory box of precious ointment which had been sent
to her by her Father, and which, by his command, she always carried in
her bosom. “Let my child carefully anoint her eyes with this ointment,”
the wise Father had said, “and she will soon see quite clearly, so that
she will not so stumble and fall.” Ghuldasta had the ointment always
within her reach, but, strange to say, she never cared to use it at
all; she contented herself with looking at the outside of the box, on
the lid of which was written the name of the ointment—_Self-examination
mixed with Prayer_; whilst round the edge appeared the words, _Examine
yourselves, whether ye be in the faith; prove your own selves_ (2 Cor.
xiii. 5). Ghuldasta had heard that the ointment would make the eyes
smart, and she never would put it on hers. “I can see quite well enough,”
she would say; “no one can read the Bible better than I; why should I
trouble myself with this Self-examination? It would be of no use to me;
and I dislike it of all things.”
After hearing that Ghuldasta thus disobeyed her wise Father’s commands,
no one can be surprised at being told the second cause of Ashley Sahiba’s
sorrow concerning the girl. Ghuldasta was much under the power of two
wicked spirits, whose names are Pride and Self-will.[41] She never saw
them because of her blindness. If she could have seen them, she would
have been frightened, for what is so hideous as sin? But Ghuldasta often
heard their voices, and, alas! to her those voices were pleasant. Ashley
Sahiba more than suspected that these wicked spirits had power over her
young charge; for, though she could not actually see or hear them, she
saw the effect which their company had on the unhappy Ghuldasta. Often
did Ashley Sahiba warn all her children: “O my beloved ones! beware of
Pride and Self-will, who often steal upon us to mislead and destroy.
They are sent by the great Enemy, who wishes to ruin our souls.” But
though so often tenderly warned, blind and foolish Ghuldasta was not in
the least afraid of listening to Pride and Self-will.
I have said that the house in which the lady and children dwelt was built
on the top of a high hill. The house had pleasant grounds around it, in
which the children could play. All round this enclosure was a fence made
of stakes of the choicest wood. This fence was very needful, as the hill
was in some parts so steep as to be dangerous, and the children might
often have fallen down precipices but for this protection. On every one
of the stakes was inscribed in golden letters a precious text, which
glittered brightly in the sun, so that the fence was an ornament to the
place, as well as a safeguard to the children. The name of the fence was
Duty.
Some of the children were exceedingly glad that there was this beautiful
fence around the enclosure. “There are many wild beasts in the
mountains,” they said; “cheetahs, and bears, and the terrible lion called
Shaitán, who goeth about seeking whom he may devour. But for this fence
we should never feel safe. We never wish to venture beyond it.”
But Ghuldasta was not one of these children. She had always a great
desire to wander beyond this fence; and often and often did Pride and
Self-will urge her to do so.
Said Pride: “You have nothing to fear. What do you care for cheetahs or
lions?”
Whispered Self-will: “It is very hard to be shut up in a small enclosure
like this. Outside, on the mountains, are many beautiful flowers and
delicious fruits. When you are close to them, you will see and enjoy
them; you will make wreaths for your hair of the flowers, you will feast
at your ease on the fruits.”
Then added Pride: “Could not a brave and resolute girl such as you are
manage to get through the fence?”
It is very dangerous to listen to Pride and Self-will, the black serpents
that speak now as the serpent spake to Eve in the Garden of Eden.
Ghuldasta began to think in her heart, “Can I not contrive to break down
or pull up a little bit of the fence, just enough to let me squeeze
myself through the opening?” Evil thinking soon leads to evil doing.
There was one particular spot in the enclosure, shaded from view by
thick bushes, to which Ghuldasta now often wandered. She never asked any
of her companions to go with her thither. “I would rather,” she said,
“be alone.” Who would have guessed what the foolish and sinful girl was
doing, when she spent the greater part of her leisure time in this
solitary retreat? Ghuldasta was, with a knife, day by day cutting away
at two of the stakes of the beautiful fence. On one of these stakes was
written: _Likewise, ye younger, submit yourselves unto the elder. Yea,
all of you be subject one to another, and be clothed with humility_ (1
Peter v. 5). And on the second stake was written: _Obey them that have
the rule over you, and submit yourselves: for they watch for your souls,
as they that must give account_ (Heb. xiii. 17). Ghuldasta did not care
to read the holy words inscribed on the stakes; her only anxiety was
to get rid of whatever hindered her going whither Pride and Self-will
made her eager to go. And, alas! all those days during which Ghuldasta
was cutting and doing her utmost to destroy the holy fence, she, with
the other girls, regularly read the Bible, sang hymns, and knelt down
to pray. While she was obeying Pride and Self-will, and neglecting her
Father’s commands, every prayer and hymn from this girl’s lips was in
itself a grievous sin.
Very early one morning, before the rest of the girls had come forth into
the grounds, Ghuldasta finished her wicked work. She had cut so very deep
into each of the two stakes in the fence of Duty, that she was now able
to snap them off altogether, and fling them far away down the mountain.
She then tried to squeeze herself through the gap which she had made,
and easily enough succeeded in doing so; for, alas! wilful sinners have
no difficulty in passing beyond the fence of Duty, when once they have
broken the holy commands which form it.
Ghuldasta was rejoicing in the thought that now she could wander whither
she would, with none to restrain her, when suddenly she felt a firm grasp
on her shoulder.
“Wretched, blind girl!” exclaimed a voice behind her, “whither are you
going?” The voice was that of Ashley Sahiba.
Ghuldasta could not see the look of sorrow on the face of her guardian,
any more than she could behold the love and pity in her heart; the girl
only heard that the sound of the voice was angry, and felt that the grasp
of the hand was a tight one.
“Wrench yourself away!” cried Self-will.
“How can she speak in so harsh a tone? How dare she call you wretched and
blind?” exclaimed Pride.
Ghuldasta was not strong enough to wrench herself away; but as soon as
the lady had drawn her back through the gap in the fence, the girl flung
herself on the ground in a terribly sulky fit. She would scarcely listen
to the lady’s earnest words of warning.
“How unkind she is!” cried Self-will.
“How unjust she is!” muttered Pride.
It is sad to relate how completely these evil spirits held Ghuldasta in
subjection. The girl was in a fit of ill-humour, and showed it in every
way that she possibly could. She would not eat, she would not work; she
behaved as if she thought that her tender friend had done her a cruel
wrong in drawing her back from a perilous path. Ghuldasta was miserable
herself, and tried to make all around her unhappy also. And yet this girl
never looked upon herself as a grievous sinner. She had not anointed her
eyes with the precious ointment contained in the ivory box.
“What shall I do?” thought Ashley Sahiba: “how shall I prevent my wilful,
blind lamb from wandering in ways of destruction? She has broken down
part of the fence; we cannot, with so many other children to care for,
watch her night and day. I dread lest she should again attempt to escape
and wander on the mountains, where there are precipices and rushing
torrents, and where wild beasts roam about seeking for prey.”
After anxious thought Ashley Sahiba had the gap in the fence filled up by
a quantity of sharp prickly thorns of which the name is Punishment. “Now
I trust that my child will be safe,” thought she.
On the first opportunity the wilful Ghuldasta found her way back to the
spot where she had broken a way through the fence; but when she attempted
to pass through the gap, lo! sharp Punishment stayed her.
“Cruel, cruel Mem Sahiba!” exclaimed Ghuldasta, as she drew back her
bleeding hand, which had been hurt by the thorns.
“She shall never stop you in this way!” cried Self-will.
“She finds fault with you because she does not love you as she loves the
other girls,” muttered Pride. “She is hard, partial, and unjust.”
Ghuldasta resolved that even Punishment should not stop her. She remained
all the rest of that day sulky and silent, revolving in her mind by what
means she could still get her own way. Even during prayer-time all the
thoughts of the sinful girl were turned in this direction. While the
Mem Sahiba was reading the Bible aloud to her children, Ghuldasta was
listening to the whispers of Pride and Self-will, which none could hear
but herself.
Said Pride: “When none are near to watch you, take the thick black rug of
Obstinacy and throw it right over the thorns. They may hurt you a little
still, but they will not be able to stay you.”
“You will not care for a little pain, so that you get your own way,”
cried Self-will.
When the house was hushed in silence,—when all the other girls
were sleeping, and the weary Ashley Sahiba had closed her eyes in
repose,—Ghuldasta silently arose from her bed, and felt her way to the
place where hung the black rug. Bearing Obstinacy with her, and moving
as stealthily as if she were a thief, the wilful girl contrived to
quit the house and reach the spot to which she so often had turned her
steps before. Ghuldasta flung the rug of Obstinacy over the thorns of
Punishment, and found that by means of it she could manage to clamber
over, though not without some pain. Ghuldasta was so much delighted at
this, that almost unconsciously she began to sing, though in a tone
too low to rouse any of the sleepers in the house, which was at some
distance. Ghuldasta—O fearful mockery!—was actually humming a hymn when
she passed beyond the fence of Duty. She had on her lips:
“There is a happy land,
Far, far away.”[42]
But she was not to have time to sing about the “saints,” whose glory,
if she went on in her wilful course, she never, never would share.
Ghuldasta, though she knew it not, was on the path that leadeth to
destruction. She had no right to sing of that happy land, from which she
was actually trying to shut herself out for ever.
I have said that Ghuldasta was apt to walk carelessly, and that she was
so near-sighted that, even in the light of day, she could not see the
path before her. Suddenly, to her horror, the poor girl found herself
plunging down a precipice! Screaming for help, Ghuldasta caught at the
bushes to save herself: they somewhat broke but they could not prevent
her fall; for the twigs gave way in her hand! Down—down—down,—crashing
fell the miserable child! What would she not have given to have felt the
firm grasp of her Mem Sahiba! what would she not have given to have been
held fast by the thorns of Punishment!—anything, anything that might have
saved her from the consequences of her own blind folly!
Poor Ghuldasta was senseless before she reached the bottom. Her clothes
were rent; her body bruised and bleeding; much of her hair had been left
on the bushes. After a while she came to herself, in terrible pain, and
with perfect darkness around her. As Ghuldasta could only see objects
very, very near her, it was now to her as if she lay at the bottom of a
well.
“Where am I?” faintly murmured the miserable girl. Gradually she
remembered all that had happened; but memory was anguish. Her best
friend, her much-wronged friend, was, she doubted not, sleeping, all
unconscious of the misery and danger of the ungrateful girl whom she had
warned in vain. Ghuldasta’s young companions were slumbering in peace,
till the morning’s light should awaken them to begin the occupations of
the day. But for her own pride and wilfulness, Ghuldasta might at that
moment have been safe and happy amongst them.
Ghuldasta longed to know where she was—to be able to look around her.
She thought of her ivory box of ointment, which she still carried in her
bosom. Ghuldasta could not move her arm without pain, and she knew well
that the ointment would make her eyes smart; but lying as she was in
helplessness and darkness in a strange place, for the first time the girl
wished to obey her Father’s command.
Ghuldasta anointed her eyes with the salve of _Self-examination mixed
with Prayer_, and the effect of that salve was marvellous beyond all
expectation. At once perfect sight appeared to be restored; Ghuldasta saw
everything around her bathed in the light of a clear full moon.
But it was a terrible view that was presented to the wilful transgressor.
She saw her danger—she saw her sin. Above her was a rude jagged cliff,
which, even had she been unhurt by her fall, she could never have power
to climb. Ghuldasta lay upon thorns more painful than the thorns of
Punishment which she had thought so cruel, and from these thorns she
could not wrench herself free.
“Oh! what shall I do!—what shall I do!” exclaimed the unhappy and
penitent girl, after she had exhausted herself by cries for help which
no one could hear. “Would that I had never listened to the voices of the
tempters!—would that I had never broken through the fence of Duty, and
left my safe and happy home! I chose my own way; and a way of misery I
have found it. I was lifted up with pride, and now I have fallen into the
depths of despair!”
Ghuldasta could distinguish objects lying at no great distance from her,
which she at once recognized; for on them golden letters were faintly
glimmering in the moonlight. These were the stakes from the fence of Duty
which she had herself broken and flung away!
“_Likewise, ye younger, submit yourselves unto the elder_,” faintly
murmured Ghuldasta, as tears flowed fast down her cheeks. “Alas! _I_
would never submit; I was never clothed in humility; I would not obey her
whom my Father had placed over me; I was insolent to her in my manner, I
despised her wise commands, I abused her patience, I grieved her heart.
I shall never, never see her again. Oh! will she ever give a sorrowful
thought to her poor Ghuldasta! No, no; she will be happy with those who
love her—those who obey her. I shall soon be forgotten by all. Even in
heaven they will never meet, nor even miss, the wretched Ghuldasta!” At
the miserable thought, the poor girl cried as if her heart would break.
Hark! what was that fearful sound in the distance? Was it not the roar
of the lion who goeth about seeking whom he may devour? Ghuldasta could
not fight, and she could not flee. She was ready to faint with terror.
Then in her agony the repentant sinner betook herself to prayer. Never,
never had poor Ghuldasta prayed before as she prayed on that night, with
clasped hands and streaming eyes! Her supplications were no mockery
now—they came from a broken and contrite heart.
Ashley Sahiba, meanwhile, lay asleep on her bed; but even in sleep her
mind was restless. Thoughts of her self-willed, proud Ghuldasta mixed
themselves with her dreams. At last the lady suddenly awoke, for it
seemed as if a voice were whispering in her ears: “O shepherdess! where
is your poor lost lamb?”
Ashley Sahiba closed her tired eyes, and tried to go to sleep again,
but she could not; she was so unhappy about Ghuldasta. Presently she
arose, and knelt down and prayed for the child. Then softly moving along
the rows of beds on which the children were sleeping, the lady sought
that of Ghuldasta, and started to find it empty! Her fears were but too
well-founded—Ghuldasta had fled! That moment was one of the most painful
which the lady had ever known in the course of her life.
Ghuldasta, imprisoned by thorns, and sorely hurt by her fall, lay
straining her eyes to catch sounds in the distance, and exhausted her
little remaining strength by weeping. At last, to her exceeding terror,
she saw the bushes on the cliff above her moving, as if some large animal
were forcing its way down the difficult descent. She expected every
moment to see the glaring eyes of a beast of prey; she became silent in
the extremity of her fear. Then, from the very spot from whence Ghuldasta
expected to hear a savage growl, came a dear and well-known voice: “My
child! my child! where are you?” Ghuldasta, collecting all her strength,
called out the name of her lady; and a glad voice answered from above.
Heedless of weariness or danger, Ashley Sahiba, by help of the bushes,
was clambering down the cliff from the top of which Ghuldasta had fallen.
The lady was like the good shepherd seeking the straying sheep; like
the woman searching for the lost piece of silver; and when at last she
clasped her Ghuldasta in her arms, her cry of joy was like that of the
prodigal’s father: _This my son was dead and is alive again; was lost,
and is found_.
Ashley Sahiba was followed by servants whom she had roused to help in
the search for Ghuldasta, and who had made their way down the hill by
a longer but less dangerous path. The poor girl, clinging to her Mem
Sahiba, was raised from her painful position, and carried up on a litter,
for she was unable to walk.
A fever succeeded, caused by the sufferings both of mind and body endured
on that night by Ghuldasta. Under careful nursing she recovered from the
fever, but the poor girl carried on her to her dying day marks of her
terrible fall, and the remembrance of it was never effaced from her mind.
But happy was it for Ghuldasta that she had learned to anoint her eyes
with the salve of _Self-examination mixed with Prayer_; happy was it for
her that she could say, _Whereas I was blind, now I see_. Ghuldasta had
parted company with Pride and Self-will; she became daily more meek and
lowly, more like Him who, though God as well as man, deigned in His youth
to be subject to a mortal mother. Ghuldasta became the joy and crown of
the faithful friend to whom she so long had been a cause of trouble and
sorrow. That friend taught her where alone she could find forgiveness
for all her past sins, and grace to struggle against them in the future.
_Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. Blessed are
the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven_ (Matt. v. 4, 3).