I WAS born of humble, but respectable parents, in the parish of Deptford, near London, where I was reared by a tender and loving mother, who cared for me until I reached the age of fifteen, when I left home to earn my bread. Yet my dear mother’s eye was upon me, and continually in her simple affection did she counsel and direct me, to live honestly and soberly in this life. But I disregarded her counsel, and would have my fling in the world, and at last was discharged from my employment in consequence of aiding in flogging and ill-treating a religious workmate.
At the age of nineteen, I enlisted in the 14th King’s Hussars, which was then stationed at Manchester. My mother was suffering from a protracted illness, and my leaving home hastened her end; shortly after my doing so the captain of my troop received from my father a telegram saying she was dying, and that her only wish was to see her wandering boy once more.
When fourteen days’ leave of absence could be obtained I started for home, and reached it just in time to see my dear, dying mother. I bent over her, put my ear close to her mouth, and heard her say—
“Harry, Harry, you are doing wrong”— she was too weak to say more; I never heard her speak again, and she fell asleep in Jesus. Alas! very soon my mother’s last words were forgotten.
Some years afterward I went to the garrison church at Hounslow, one Sunday night, where the chaplain read for one of the lessons my mother’s favorite chapter. This was the eighth of Romans, and every day when I was at home she made me read it to her, and no other, but always that one―the eighth of Romans. I heard no more, and came out of the church. Walking down a lonely lane I gave vent to tears, and took a vow to turn over a new leaf. For a few months I kept very steady, read religious books and tracts, and many of my comrades made fun of me, and said I had become religious.
After a while my regiment left Hounslow for Edinburgh, where I led a most profligate life, which, no doubt, the defaulters’ book would show. Then we left that town for Ireland, where we remained for the brigading season. Hearing we were to relieve the 12Th Lancers, quartered at the Royal Barracks, Dublin, I was delighted, for in that regiment was an old schoolmate, and I began to save the very price of butter to have a jolly good spree with him. Arriving at the Royal Barracks, on the first opportunity I went in search of my schoolmate.
“Do you know where James Elderkin is?” said I.
“Oh, yes,” was the reply; “but he will not change his quarters anymore.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Pointing with his finger, the man said, “Yonder is the soldiers’ cemetery; there he lies. He died of black fever about six months ago. He was well respected by the troop he belonged to. When you feel disposed you can see his grave; you will soon find it by the lance cap on the stone.” This was a heavy blow, and I tried to drown serious thoughts with drink, but often would these words whisper themselves to me, as I was falling asleep at night: “Supposing you should not get off this cot again, what would become of you?”
One Sunday the order came for every available man off duty to attend church, so there was no squaring the orderly sergeant to whitewash the stables, and I had to go. While seated there, something like a voice kept continually saying to me, “Go and see your schoolmate’s grave. What a cruel, hard-hearted man you are! Go and see your schoolmate’s grave.” So I went, and oh! what thoughts were mine alone among the dead, as searching over grave after grave, at last I stood face to face with that of my schoolmate.
Over it was a willow tree, and on the headstone a lance cap, cut neatly, and my school-fellow’s name. The respect his comrades showed by erecting such a memorial, struck me with such force that my very feet seemed to stick to the grass beneath me. Schoolboy days, my mother’s love, yes, the whole of my life arose before me. How long I stood then with my head hanging down I cannot say, for I felt that I was one of the basest scoundrel my regiment or the world could produce But, oh! when I raised my head erect upon my shoulders, what did I see? Words as if printed with the blackest ink, “Where will you go when you die?”
I hurried from the place, to the Phœnix Park and the gardens, but the very flower: seemed to say, “Where will you go when you die?”
I hastened to the Duke of Wellington’s, monument, to see the four sculptures upon it, but not the sculptures filled my eyes, but these words, “Where will you go when you die?”
On returning to barracks, I made up my mind to go to a Bible-reading held at the Soldiers’ Institute, but began to think what name my comrades would give me for going to the place—Blue light—tub-thumper, of some title of distinction! I marched up and down like a coward, watching lest anyone I knew should be near, but at last, in I bolted, and up the stairs and into the room, where a good number of soldiers of various regents were seated, with the word of God in their hands.
I seated myself among them, and what chapter was it they were considering? My mother’s favorite chapter―the eighth of Romans! This opened my heart again to old days, and brought back the memory of my boyhood.
After the meeting a christian came to me, and I told him all my heart. His language was strange and foreign to me, for I wanted to be a better man, but he pleaded with me to come to Christ. He asked me if I had a Bible. “A regimental one, which I keep in my cleaning bag,” I replied, “for I do not think much of it.” Then with kindness and love in his face, he said, “Will you not read it if I give you one?” and he put a Bible in my hands.
However, it was not what God says in His word that filled my mind, but my own foolish thoughts of turning over a new leaf, for I was endeavoring to be a better man by following the miserable religion of doing my best.
One evening, one of the christian men at the Institute put his hand upon my shoulder and said, “S., tell me are your sins forgiven?”
I looked him in the face, and said, “Mr. P., if I knew that my sins were forgiven, I should be one of the happiest men in my regiment.” I shall never forget his look, as with his pocket Bible in his right hand, he said, “S., do you believe this book to be God’s word?”
I said, “Yes.” Then he opened it and read, “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool”; “Redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins.”
I replied, “Not for me, not for me. No one can know his sins are pardoned till the judgment day.” And oh, what a poor prospect that was, for a wretched sinner such as I was!
At length Mr. P. said, “The time is growing late, and your pass is only available till twelve p.m. I will read one more scripture for you to carry with you to the barracks.” Opening the blessed word, he read Acts 13:38, 3938Be it known unto you therefore, men and brethren, that through this man is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins: 39And by him all that believe are justified from all things, from which ye could not be justified by the law of Moses. (Acts 13:38‑39), “Be it known unto you therefore, men and brethren, that through this Man (Christ Jesus) is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins: and by Him (Christ Jesus) all that believe are justified from all things, from which ye could not be justified by the law of Moses;” and then he added, “Now what does the word justified’ mean?”
“Certainly that word looks like ‘free,’” was my reply.
It was enough; darkness of soul was gone, and the true light appeared. Yes, before we parted that night my misery was changed to peace and joy. If ever I sang a song from my very heart it was that night, while returning to the barracks:
“Oh, happy day, happy day,
When Jesus washed my sins away”
Now, my reader, have you been convicted of sin? Have you seen, by the Holy Ghost, the complete and perfect atonement made by Jesus the spotless Victim, whom God hath set forth a propitiation through faith in His blood? Whoever you may be, if you really trust in Jesus, on the authority of God’s own precious word, eternal life is yours.
I end my simple story with the first verse of my mother’s favorite chapter: “There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus.” H. B. S.