“I HAD in my regiment a little bugler named Willie Holt. I had often noticed him as being too delate for the life he had to lead; but he was born in the regiment, and we were bound to make the best of him. His father had been killed in action, and his mother drooped and died six months later.
“As several acts of insubordination had been brought to my notice I determined to make an example of the very next offense by having the culprit flogged.
“One morning it was reported that, during the night, the targets had been thrown down and otherwise mutated. On investigation the rascally act was traced to a man or men in the very tent where Willie Holt was billeted. The whole lot were instantly put under arrest, to be tried by court martial. In vain were they appealed to to produce the men, and at last I spoke:
" ‘If any one of you who slept in No. 4 tent last night will come forward and take his punishment like a man, the rest will get off free; but if not, there remains no alternative but to punish you all—each man in turn to receive ten strokes of the cat.’
“For the space of a couple of minutes dead silence followed; then from the midst of the prisoners, where his slight form had been completely hidden, Willie Holt came forward.
“He advanced to within a couple of yards from where I sat; his face was very pale; a fixed intensity of purpose stamped on every line of it.
" ‘Colonel,’ said he, ‘you have passed your word that if any one of those who slept in No. 4 last night comes forward to take his punishment the rest shall get off scot-free. I am ready, sir; and please may I take it now?’
“For a moment I was speechless, so utterly was I taken by surprise: then in a fury of anger and disgust turned upon the prisoners.
" ‘Is there no man among you worthy of the name? Are you all cowards enough to let this lad suffer for your sins? for that he is guiltless, you know as well as I.’ But sullen and silent they stood, with never a word.
“Never in all my life have I found myself so painfully situated. I knew my word must stand, and the lad knew it too. Sick at heart I gave the order, and he was led away for punishment “Bravely he stood, with back bared, as one—two—three—strokes descended. At the fourth a faint moan escaped his white lips, and ere the fifth fell, a cry burst from the group of prisoners who had been forced to witness the scene, and, with one bound, Jim Sykes, the black sheep of the regiment, seized the cat, as, with choking, gasping utterances he shouted, " ‘Stop it, Colonel, stop it, and tie me up instead. He didn’t do it, I did,’ and with convulsed and anguished face he flung his arms around the boy.
“Fainting and almost speechless, Willie lifted his eyes to the man’s face and smiled—such a smile.
" ‘No, Jim,’ he whispered, ‘you are safe now; the Colonel’s word will stand.’ His head fell forward—he had fainted.
“The next day as I was making for the hospital tent where the boy lay I met the doctor.
" ‘How is the lad?’ I asked.
" ‘Sinking, Colonel,’ he said quietly. " ‘What!’ I ejaculated, horrified bond words.
" ‘Yes, the shock of yesterday was too much for his feeble strength.’
“The dying lad lay propped up on the pillows and, half-kneeling, half-crouching at his side was Jim Sykes. The change in the boy’s face startled me; it was deathly white, but his great eyes were shining with a wonderful light, strangely sweet. He was talking earnestly, but neither of them saw me.
“At that moment the kneeling man lifted his head, and I saw drops of sweat standing on his brow as he muttered brokenly, " ‘Why did ye do it, lad? Why did ye do it?’
" ‘Because I wanted to take it for you, Jim,’ Willie’s weak voice answered tenderly. ‘I thought if I did it it might help you to understand a little bit why Christ died for you.’
" ‘Christ has naught to do with such as me, lad. I’m one of the bad ‘uns.’
" ‘But He died to save bad ones—just them. He says, “I came not to call the righteous but sinners,” and “Though your sins be as scarlet they shall be as white as snow.” ‘Dear Jim,’ the earnest voice pleaded patiently, ‘shall the Lord have died in vain? He has poured out His precious life-blood for you. He is knocking at the door of your heart; won’t you let Him in?’
“The lad’s voice was failing him, but he laid his hand gently on the man’s bowed head, as he sang:
‘Just as I am without one plea,
But that Thy blood was shed for me.
And that Thou bid’st me come to Thee,
O Lamb of God—I come.’
thrilling the heart of every man who heard it. Then gradually the weak arms dropped, the light faded from the shining eyes, and the brave spirit of the dear boy had fled to God.”
—COLONEL H.
Dear reader, need I add anything to this little story? Do you not see in it a wonderful illustration of what Christ has done?
ML-01/31/1960