COLONEL W—had for a good many years led a quiet and somewhat secluded life, after retiring from the army. He was closely connected with one of our most famous ducal families; but, after his conversion to God, finding that life in London society was no longer congenial to him, he retired into the country, and in his rural home associated with a little band of Christians, with whom he was in sympathy. Happening to have occasion to go to the Continent, and wishing to be in London for a day or two before starting, he wrote to his nephew, the Duke of—, asking him if he could put him up.
Knowing his uncle’s indisposition to mingle in gay society, the duke wrote back to say that he was always delighted to see him, but that he ought to mention that there would be a dinner-party on the night on which he proposed to arrive, and that the house would be filled with company that might not be congenial to him. The colonel replied that he would be glad to make use of his nephew’s hospitality, without participating in the entertainments to which he referred. He would have dinner by himself in the sitting-room attached to his bedroom, and would be glad of a quiet evening, if left to himself.
The arrangement was made, and the colonel was just preparing to spend an hour alone with his Bible, when something seemed to say to him, “You are probably the only man in this house who knows anything about the way of salvation, and here you are preparing to spend a quiet evening in selfish enjoyment of your privileges, while these poor souls around you may be perishing for the lack of the help that you alone can give.”
So strong was the impression that he rang for the footman, and sent a message to the duke that he had altered his mind and would come down to dinner. On entering the drawing-room he was introduced to a particularly gay, and, as he judged, thoughtless young lady, whom he was asked to take in to dinner. She was a beautiful girl—one of the belles of the season—and about the last person that he would have chosen to be thus thrown into contact with; as it seemed so unlikely that he would have any opportunity of saying a suitable word to her.
But he bethought himself that he had left his room much against his own inclinations, and with the desire to be of service to some human soul, and this was the person to whom, in the providence of God, he had been introduced; and therefore it was to her, he concluded, that he had to deliver his message. As, however, it was uncertain if he would be able to converse with her afterward, it seemed to him as if there was nothing else for it but rush to the point at once.
And so, not without betraying some little agitation and embarrassment in his manner, he contrived to blurt out a very personal question as to the spiritual condition of his new acquaintance on the way to the dining-room. He had no sooner uttered the words than his judgment told him that he had made a grave mistake, and, as seemed probable, had done harm instead of good.
As for the young lady thus addressed, she made no attempt to conceal her indignation. Setting him down as an intolerable fanatic, she deliberately turned from him, took no sort of notice of him all through dinner, and occupied herself all the time with a young officer who sat next her on the other side, and who was a companion much more to her taste.
The poor colonel spent a miserable hour over that dinner table. He thought he had made a mistake in being there at all; it was no place for him. How was it possible for him to do his Master’s work amidst such unfavorable surroundings? And so, as soon as he could rejoin the ladies in the drawing-room, he sought the young lady out, and expressed his regret at his injudiciousness, hoping, at the same time, that she would not allow the claims of the Master to be prejudiced by the blunder of the servant.
She received his apology with a distant bow, and at once turned away. And after a few more miserable moments in the drawing-room, the colonel found an early opportunity of retiring to his room, oppressed with the thought that he had made a double mistake; he had been injudicious in appearing at all, and still more injudicious in “speaking unadvisedly with his lips,” though with the best intentions.
His stay on the Continent extended over several weeks, and while still on his travels, he received a telegram which had pursued him from place to place, containing a message to this effect: — “Would Colonel W—visit at once a young lady residing in Paris, to whom he spoke about her soul, apparently injudiciously, at a dinner-party at—House, as she is very ill.”
Without a moment’s hesitation he set out for Paris, and found the poor girl, whom he had seen in all the pride of health and beauty only a few weeks before, far gone in what is commonly called “galloping consumption.”
He had no sooner entered the room than she stretched out both hands eagerly towards him, exclaiming, “My dear Colonel W—, I have to thank you for my soul’s salvation. But do not think I have brought you all this way merely to express my thanks. I wanted to explain to you that the very thing that made your effort seem so injudicious was the very thing that God used to save my soul. It was just because the time seemed so inappropriate, and your procedure so extraordinary, and because I saw what an effort it cost you to speak as you did, that I became more and more impressed with a conviction of your sincerity.
“Had you spoken at a time when circumstances might have seemed to invite a ‘goody’ talk from a man making a great religious profession, I should have looked on the whole thing as cant, and probably it would have made no impression on me. But I kept asking myself, ‘What could make that man speak to me in that ridiculous way? Why should he have made such a fool of himself? Evidently it cost him a great effort to blurt out those absurd inquiries about my soul; what could he do it for? Surely he must have believed what he said, and believed it intensely. But if he is right, I must be all wrong.’ So the thing kept working in my heart, until at last I began to read my Bible for myself and to pray.
“At last the light broke in on me, and I found the salvation that you had spoken to me about. I gave myself fully over to the Lord, determined to serve Him, by His grace, as faithfully as I had served the world. I had hoped for a long life of usefulness, but God has willed it otherwise. Only a few days after my conversion I caught a chill, which brought on pneumonia, and that has been followed by this terribly rapid decline; and now the end is very near.
“Thank God, and, under Him, thank you, I have nothing to fear from death, and I am happily awaiting the summons. But I did want to say to you ere I pass away, Go on! Be instant out of season as well as in season. Don’t mind if you seem to meet with rebuffs and discouragements as you did from me. You may be quite sure that your work will be ultimately rewarded. Thank you a thousand times for the saving of my soul.”
ANON.