One cold, sleety, gloomy November evening, when I had settled comfortably down before my bright fire, with the pleasant jingle of the tea-things in my ear and an entertaining book in my hand, a furious ring was heard at my surgery door.
"Dear me!" I thought, putting my slippered feet snugly on the fender, "Surely nobody wants the poor doctor tonight.”
"Wanted, please, sir," said my servant, as he slipped a note into my hand. I looked at it in dismay. Yes, I was really wanted, and that without delay. Only a distance of eight or ten miles, and that right across the dreariest part of the Forest. There was no help for it; I must put on my coat and start immediately. The moon was nearly at the full, that was one good thing.
"Who brought the note, Giles?" I inquired eagerly, with a vague hope that the messenger might bear me company.
"Old Peter Cox, sir.”
"Is he going back, then?”
"O no sir. He'll sleep at his daughter's, sir.”
"Well, get Jerry saddled, Giles; I must start in five minutes.”
Jerry came around at the appointed time—a fine, stoutly built, brindly cob, capable of doing a vast amount of work, with a splendid head and a pair of large lustrous eyes.
Jerry and I had been fast friends for several years. He knew the Forest almost as well as I did. I always selected him for difficult journeys. I think he knew it was rather unpleasant now, so he gave a snort of determined acquiescence.
We cantered pleasantly along the straggling village road, catching glimpses of snug firesides and busy farmsteads, then out into the lonely, dreary Forest.
Not one single wayfarer did we meet, though we had passed over five or six weary miles. Suddenly Jerry pricked up his ears, and gave a snort of intensified delight. I listened, and by-an-by saw something looming in the far distance; then the creak of wheels was heard breaking on the silence.
What could it be? A coal-huckster's cart, drawn by a wretched, half-starved horse, dragging his load painfully along. But where was the huckster himself? Not with his cart: O no; the patient and diligent creature was fulfilling his task more faithfully than his master. Where could he be?
Jerry seemed concerned, and cast a pitying glance on the lank, lean, much-enduring animal; but he went on, and so did we. For a full mile nothing was to be seen; then a small dark speck was discernible in the road a man careening along, legs apart like a pair of compasses, making vain endeavors to steady his reeling steps. The man, though evidently under influence of strong drink, apparently knew me, and remembered my profession.
"I say, doctor," he stammered out, "is that you? Stop, if yor plase; I want to ax you a question.”
"Well, my friend," I replied, gently drawing Jerry to a stand, "what is it?”
"Why, I want you to give me a prescription. You've a great name, doctor, in these parts, and you're a good friend to the poor; maybe ye'll give it to me for naught.”
"What for, my friend? What ails you?”
"Well, sir, I want a prescription for keeping my legs from turning into the saloon. If I could only get that, I should be all right, you know, doctor.”
"You set me fast, my man," I replied, quite puzzled for the moment; "you set me fast. I really cannot give you such a prescription. But, now I think of it, there is a very great Physician, a Friend of mine, who both can and will give you what you want, if you apply to Him.”
"Where is he, doctor? Does he charge very high?”
"He is not far off; and He gives His advice quite freely, without money arid without price. He is a very great Physician, as I said. Your only plan is to go to Him.”
"That will I. Only tell me his name, and where he lives.”
I hesitated, looking steadfastly at the poor, reeling, staggering figure of the drunken huckster, and wondering if indeed he might be able to understand me. The man thought I was undecided about giving the Great Physician's address, so he cried out imploringly, "O doctor, let me know where he lives.
Now do, doctor, for indeed and I'll take whatever it may be I will indeed and in truth, doctor." And the man fixed his keen gray eyes earnestly upon me. He really meant what he was saying. "I be a poor, wake, frail body, doctor, and I be feared of losing body and soul; I be indeed. Now tell me his name, doctor?”
"Well, my man," I said, touching his shoulder with the tip of my whip, "listen to me, and mark my words. The Great Physician is the Lord Jesus Christ. Go to Him straight.
The poor fellow seemed suddenly sobered. He gathered his feet together, and stood erect; he neither spoke nor stirred. His thoughts were powerfully, irresistibly engrossed; he seemed riveted to the spot. I wished him goodnight, and passed on my lonely track. I looked back; there stood the small dark figure, transfixed. I looked again; there it was, scarcely discernible in the great distance. There was a turn in the road, so I saw the coal-huckster no more. Some weeks passed, and again I beheld the small wiry figure; not drunk now, but alert and brisk about his small traffic. He avoided me, however, so I took no notice.
Another day, some few months after, when the dull winter had passed away, and the spring flowers were peeping, and the birds building among the trees, or in the thatch and all nature wore a smile, I espied the little coal-huckster sitting on his cart.
He, too, wore a smile. He caught my eye, bounded towards me, took hold of the rein of my horse, of my hand, of both hands, shook them warmly, pressed them between both his own, quite unmindful of their state.
Tears rolled softly down his thin cheeks— blessed tears, such as angels love to see.
"God bless you, dear, good doctor! God bless you! You sent me to the right One.
The Great Physician filled my need.”
That was all, and enough. We understood each other entirely. I returned the grateful pressure. I fancy my own eyes grew dim I know that tears were in my voice as I echoed his "God bless you!”
That coal-cart was never seen standing in front of a saloon again. The poor huckster had found Christ a Savior indeed, able to deliver him from "the snares of the devil,” that he might live in a way pleasing to Him Who so loved him and gave Himself for him.