THE passengers were seated, and the stage, running between St. George and Hamilton, on the Bermuda Islands, was about to start, when a man came hurrying up and jumped into the coach. He was large, and would have been a very fine-looking man, had it not been, alas! for evil habits, under the influence of which he seemed to have fallen. His face was red his breath was strong, and from an inside pocket of his coat, which hung open, dangled a flask of liquor. As he seated himself and glanced at those who were in the coach, his fellow passengers thought he would not prove a very happy addition to their company; but no word was spoken—only significant glances exchanged.
The stage had not proceeded far when he leaned over toward the only lady passenger in the coach and asked her permission to light his pipe. She told him she would not object to it as far as she was personally concerned, whereupon he took out a match and struck it, preparatory to lighting his pipe. The driver, who had heard the conversation, turned about and said, “I object—it’s against the regulations.” This gave courage to one of the passengers who spoke up and said, “I object.” This exasperated him and he began to use threatening language; but while denouncing the driver and the passengers in general, all but two of whom opposed him, he did not use unclean or ugly words. To these two, the lady and her husband, he appealed as to the treatment he had received from the others which he thought very shabby and bad. He said he would have them taken up and dealt with, by the authorities. He then began to tell of the place he held in Her Majesty’s service, and how he had been here and there nearly all over the world. By this time his two friends, who were seated facing him, began to be thoroughly interested in him for they recognized in his fine face and head, a naturally superior person, though one who had fallen under the power of drink. As they were Christians, they were interested in his soul and thought may be the Lord had a message for this man through them. As he spoke of the long voyages he had made to distant lands, one of them leaned over and said to him that there was another voyage he was making—the voyage of life which would end in eternity, and then asked him if he was ready to meet God, repeating at the same time that little verse “Every one of us shall give account of himself to God.”
“Oh! for that,” he said, “I think I stand a pretty good chance.”
“On what ground,” asked his friend, “do you stand a good chance?”
“Well,” he replied, somewhat thoughtfully, “I never did a dishonorable thing in my life.” This assertion he repeated, and went on further to vindicate his character.
“Ah,” said his friend, “that may do for your fellowman but it will not do for God; His eye searches you through and through and finds in you what is not fit for His presence.” Although this staggered him a little, he still maintained his uprightness and honesty of character. Again his friend told him that would not do—he must give account of himself to God, and he was a poor, lost sinner and could not stand in His presence; he was like a piece of white paper that was marked and soiled —it might look pure and white enough if seen by a dim light, but when brought into the full light was useless because it was so defiled; and this would be his condition if brought into the light of God’s presence. He did not seem to resent this plain-speaking, but after a little pause he began to relate adventures in which he had been and narrow escapes that he had had; among other things that he related, he told of “the craft” in which he had been, having been overturned on four different occasions, he, with others, being thrown out into the merciless waves ; and the last time he was an hour and twenty minutes in the water.
ML 04/08/1900