ONE Sunday afternoon, when visiting about with books, hoping to meet some interested in the gospel, I came upon a Frenchman and his wife who had lately come from Paris in the hope of finding laundry work. Having myself at one time lived in Paris, we soon felt at home with each other, and I led the conversation on to the Bible. They were Roman Catholics, and listened politely, but I did not perceive that they were much interested. I was able to assist them to get work, for which they were grateful. I went occasionally to see them to have some further conversation on the Bible, but the Lord had something for me to do through them.
One Sunday afternoon I called on them, and there met a Frenchman who had been in attendance on a wicked queen of Spain. His conversation was most depraved when relating to the deeds of this Queen. He was a rapid talker, and I feared that I should not get a chance to speak of my beloved Saviour, so I lifted up my heart in silent prayer to God.
Suddenly he paused to say “I must not speak of others, for I am a vaurien” (bad man). “Oh!” I said. “Like these people and myself, you are bad.” “You bad!” he said. “You are not bad.” “But,” I said, “the Bible says we are all bad. ‘All have sinned’ (Rom. 3).” He looked surprised, so I offered to give him a New Testament to keep, and he promised to read it.
I saw him a second time, when he told me that Dr. Wylie’s was a true account of the state of society in Spain under Queen —. All Spaniards dressed alike, in long cloaks and slouch hats, and carried a stiletto in their girdles, with which they stalked anyone who offended them.
The third time I met him was when I happened to call on the laundress about our linen. “Oh!” she exclaimed, on seeing me. “I am glad you are come. Monsieur is here, and is longing to see you.” He came from the back room with extended hand, and grasped mine warmly. His whole countenance was changed. His face was beaming, and he said, “Do you remember our first conversation? Two words remained engraven on my memory, and you showed me the railway to heaven. How is it that I have lived to be 65, and not seen salvation through the Saviour?”
I left, promising to see him again.
That same night he was found dead, leaning on his bed with the little Testament by his side. I afterward sent it to his wife in France. She acknowledged it gratefully, and I trust it was blessed to her.
Reader, do not lose any opportunity of making known this great gift to perishing sinners.
S. G. A.