“MY dear little Friends, ―When I lived in dear old England, several times I had the privilege of addressing you through the pages of FAITHFUL WORDS. Now I am separated from you by nearly three thousand miles of sea and more than two thousand miles of land. Here in Colorado, where we have made our new home, it is difficult to realize that we have passed through winter, is we have seen none of those dark, damp, foggy days experienced in England. Our lays have been bright, clear, and genial. It scarcely ever rains here, and but seldom snows, although we are five thousand feet above the level of the sea. Whilst we have many advantages in the way of climate, we sadly miss the dear familiar faces of home friends, and lack many spiritual blessings enjoyed in the old country. This country is wild and unsettled. As I look out of my cottage window I can, on the right hand, see the rugged, snow-capped peaks of the Rocky Mountains, still the home of the wolf, bear, and elk, and, on the left, nothing but a desert, like a vast, smooth sea, as far as the eye can reach, which will not produce a tree without artificial watering, and was, until recent years, the track of the Red Indian, the buffalo, prairie dog, and rattlesnake.
“In such a country we hear many strange stories. One touching incident I would like to narrate to you. A little boy, whose parents died a long way out in the country, thought if he could get to a town he would be likely to meet with someone who would give him work, and assist him in gaining a living. How to get there was the difficulty. He wished to reach Chicago, but that city was many hundreds of miles away― further than Edinburgh is from London. Even if his little legs would carry him, he dared not attempt to walk, as wild beasts might devour him. The roads are not so well marked as in England, and then are no sign post; to guide him. Certainly the train would carry him, but then he had no money to pay for a ticket. Notwithstanding all the difficulties in till way, he set out for the nearest railway depot. The train was long in arriving; when it did come he jumped on to the cars an dtook his seat. After traveling some distance, the guard―or, as he is called in America, the conductor came round and asked for the boy’s ticket. ‘Please, sir,’ he replied, ‘I am a poor farm boy, and have neither ticket nor money to buy one.’ Then you must get off the cars at the next depot,’ said the guard. When the train stopped, the boy got off, but stepped on again as the engine started. Astonished on his next round to find the boy still in his seat, the guard said, angrily, ‘Didn’t I tell you to leave the care when they stopped?’ ‘Yes, sir, and so I did, but, as you did not tell me to stay off, I got on again,’ piteously answered our little friend. As a matter of duty, the official felt obliged to insist that next time he must understand that, not only was he to get off, but to remain off until he could purchase a ticket. At the next stoppage the boy left the cars, and stepped on to the platform with a sad heart, and watched the busy scene around him. A moment before the train started the conductor, as usual, stretched out his arm and shouted, ‘All aboard.’ At this the lad’s face brightened up, and as quick as lightning he jumped into the train, taking his accustomed seat. Away the engine started. Meeting him the third time, it is easy to understand that the ticket collector was more than ever amazed, and, addressing the boy in severe terms, said, ‘Now, didn’t I tell you to get off, and keep off the cars?’ ‘Yes, sir, and so I did, but just as the train was moving you stretched out your hand towards me and shouted, “All aboard”; I thought that meant me, so I jumped on again.’ Overcome by the child’s earnestness and evident desire to reach Chicago, struck also by his quick perception in taking advantage of every opportunity that offered to carry out the great desire of his heart, the guard could not refrain from smiling, and this time patted the boy’s head, saying, ‘Well, I suppose we must carry you right through now to Chicago,’ and allowed him to remain until they reached that city.
“Now, dear children, whilst I do not think the orphan boy was right in riding on the train without a ticket, it was his taking advantage of and at once profiting by the guard’s using the little word ‘all’ that struck me so much, and made me think how often. God uses that word in His gracious invitations to sinners. In the first place He tells us that ‘all have sinned and come short of the glory of God’—that means you and me. Then, speaking of the way in which He has made provision for us, He says, ‘Christ died for all’―that is, for you and me. The result of believing what God says, we learn in another Bible invitation, which says, ‘Come unto Me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest,’ and the righteousness of God, by faith of Jesus Christ, is ‘unto all and upon all them that believe. You cannot doubt that God means you, since this wonderful salvation which Jesus worked out for us by His death on the cross is for all, who believe. Now the question is, do you believe, first, that you are a sinner; second that without the forgiveness of sins you never can be saved; third, that Jesus is your own. Saviour, that He died for you―yes, you―your own self? If you have not yet, seriously and in the heart, received the Lord Jesus, let me beg you to do so without a day’s delay. Tomorrow, the day after you read this, the Lord Jesus may come, and leave behind all unbelievers. The poor orphan boy had much to discourage him—you have everything to encourage. Your soul’s eternal welfare urges you to accept Jesus as your Saviour at once. God wants you to receive Him; your teachers press you to do so. The Scriptures say again, ‘All things are ready; come.’ The poor boy was told to go—you are invited to come. I will pray God to save all the dear boys and girls who may read my letter from the Rocky Mountains.” C. G. D.