GARDENER was one of six convicts under sentence of death, with whom Mr. Reed when in Tasmania spent the last terrible night before their execution. Condemned for murder, he had long denied the charges brought against him, but finally, through his own confession, the truth was brought to light. It then appeared that shortly before the crime was committed he had been conscious, as never before, of the pleading of the Holy Spirit, and of the nearness of God.
Walking up Cataract Hill, a beautiful spot near Launceston in Tasmania, he had even been startled by a voice behind him earnestly saying, “Gardener, give Me thy heart.” He turned to face the speaker but no one was in sight. He was alone under the open sky, alone with an awakened conscience and an all-seeing God. “My son, give Me thy heart.” His Maker must have spoken. No other voice could stir the soul like that. What should he do? Yes, that was the question. Long and troubled were his ponderings, for the call was unwelcome.
He did not want just then to be a Christian. It would upset his plans, interfere with his prospects of success. No, he must make money first, come what might.
Later on, at another time, “a more convenient season,” he would reconsider the matter. God was merciful. There would be another chance. And so deliberately resisting the Holy Spirit, he went up the hill―went on to meet the tempter in his own strength.
That night alone in their shack he saw his partner begin to count a little store of savings as he sat by the fire. Seven one-pound notes lay in his hand. Gardener became interested. Then all at once an overwhelming desire to obtain that money took possession of him. Never before had he felt such a passion for gold. All restraints of conscience were swept away. His one, his only thought became, “I must, and will have it. But how?” Then followed the awful suggestion, “Dead men tell no tales.”
Though it meant murder this aroused neither fear nor compunction. A few hours before he had been powerfully drawn toward God and happiness and heaven. Now he seemed given up to evil. Three days and nights went by while he waited his opportunity. It came at last, and Gardener’s hands were stained with the blood of one who had trusted him as a friend.
H. T.