AT the time the French Government was sending troops to the Crimea, a regiment of Fusiliers halted for several days at Toulon, in the south of France, from which port it afterward embarked. It happened at the time that a colporteur of the Bible Society in France was busily employed in endeavoring to sell Bibles and New Testaments among the population of that crowded place, and when he saw this regiment, his solicitude was awakened by the thought that many of them would never see their native land again, and that all of them were about to encounter danger and death, for which, in all probability, they were wholly unprepared. He therefore addressed an earnest request to the colonel in command to be permitted to converse with the men previous to their embarkation, which was readily granted.
One morning, while surrounded by a group of soldiers, to whom he was speaking of their spiritual need, a young man, with a most expressive and intelligent countenance, stepped forward and said, “I have been deeply touched by your serious and affectionate exhortations. They have,” he added, “convinced me of the necessity of getting possession of the Word of God; but, alas! I have no money to make this precious purchase.”
“That need not signify,” replied the colporteur: “if you have so great a desire to possess a copy, it shall not be said that a Christian allowed you to go away without giving you one;” and, taking out of his wallet a small New Testament, he handed it with much pleasure to the soldier. But, to his surprise and grief, scarcely had he done so, when the young soldier burst into a loud laugh, exclaiming, “You are done, my fine fellow! I am the chief jester of the regent, and it is as clear as noon that I am not a bad hand at making a fool of you.”
“Give me back the book,” said the colporteur.
“Nay, nay, old fellow,” replied the soldier, “I should be ashamed so to affront you before such a respectable company as this is. What would my comrades think of you, were they to see you taking back with your left hand the present which your right has just bestowed Matters have never been managed like that in the French army. Whatever is given is given willingly, and so I shall keep it. Moreover, the book may be of use to me, and this, no doubt, is what you wish. In the camp one has not always a piece of paper at hand. It will do to light my pipe.” On this, making the military salute in the most grotesque manner, he went away laughing; but not before he heard the warning of the colporteur, who said, solemnly, “Young man, take care what you are about, for ‘IT IS A FEARFUL THING TO FALL INTO THE HANDS OF THE LIVING GOD.”’
The colporteur left the barracks immediately afterward. His heart was filled with sorrow, which found utterance in prayer that the young soldier might not be left to himself. “Lord, pardon him; for he knows not what he does. O God, with Thine almighty voice cause a word to pierce into the very depths of his conscience, which shall change his heart. Lord, Lord, enlighten his mind—convert him—save him.”
Fifteen months had passed away since the above-named incident had taken place, when one evening he arrived at a small village upwards of three hundred miles from Toulon, and entered an inn to obtain food and rest after the toilsome labors of the day. Scarcely had he crossed the threshold, when he became aware that some sorrowful occurrence had taken place.
The family and servants were pursuing their work in silence, and close to the fireplace sat an elderly woman, evidently in great distress of mind. The colporteur approached her, and kindly inquired the cause of her sorrow, and uttered his feelings of sympathy. “Yes, I am in sorrow, deep, deep sorrow,” exclaimed the landlady, while the tears streamed from her eyes. “Only a few hours ago he who was the happiness and pride of my life—my son—was placed in the silent grave; and what a son!” Here her emotion choked her utterance.
“Do not grieve so, my good woman,” replied the colporteur, deeply moved himself. “Let me read to you a few lines out of a Book which I never open without finding something exactly suited to all the circumstances through which I may be called to pass.”
He thereupon drew from his pocket a small New Testament, and read— “God path chastened us for our profit, that we might be partakers of His holiness. Now, no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby.”
On hearing this, the woman rushed hastily out of the room, and speedily returned with a little book in her hands. It was her son’s legacy to her, “the most precious thing she possessed belonging to him.” The colporteur took it in his hands. It was a copy of the New Testament of the same size and version as that out of which he had been reading. It was much mutilated, many pages having been torn out. But on the inside of the cover, written in large letters, was the following inscription: —
“RECEIVED AT TOULON, ON THE—, 1855. DESPISED AT FIRST, AND BADLY USED, BUT AFTERWARDS READ, BELIEVED, AND MADE THE INSTRUMENT OF MY SALVATION. J. L., FUSILIER OF THE 4TH COMPANY OF THE—REGIMENT OF THE LINE.”
From the condition of the little volume it was plain that the young soldier had made use of the missing leaves to light his pipe, as he had boasted he should. But this work of destruction was stopped on the evening before I a battle, in which his regiment was to occupy the perilous post of the advanced guard. At this juncture serious thoughts came into his mind in a very strange manner; and all on a sudden the words of the man whom he had tricked out of the book came to his recollection like a thunder-clap: “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God!” “And if I should fall into His hands!” he exclaimed, in a new distress of mind.
The thought haunted him the whole of the night and as soon as it became light in the morning, he took from his knapsack the book which appeared to have become his accuser. He opened it, expecting to find it full of threatening’s, when, to his astonishment, he read in the pages that remained such appeals and statements as: “God sent not His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved.” “Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” This last passage, which so met his anxiety, deeply affected him. He turned it over and over in his thoughts, trying to find out its true meaning, until, at the sounding of the morning drum, he had to replace the Testament in his knapsack, fall into the ranks, and march to meet the enemy.
The struggle did not last long, but it was one of the most bloody description. At its close this young soldier was among the number that lay scattered on the field. He was severely wounded, and for weeks his recovery was uncertain. But these weeks were not lost to him. The verses which he had read in the dim gray light of the morning of the battle had been brought home to his heart by the Holy Spirit.
After removal from one hospital to another in the East, there was a respite in his sufferings which allowed him to be brought back to France. He returned to his home about six weeks before the visit of the colporteur. The mutilated Testament was scarcely ever out of his hand during his waking moments. His mouth was full of tender entreaties that his dear mother and friends might embrace Christ and His salvation. To his very last breath he ceased not to exhort them all to accept God’s offered mercy in Jesus, and not to run the risk of falling, in an unconverted state, “into the hands of the living God.”
As the colporteur heard the narrative, he lifted up his heart unto the Lord in adoring thankfulness that He had heard and answered his prayer for the poor soldier, who in his folly had said of the Holy Word, “It will do to light my pipe!”
M. D’A.