An old man, who boasted that he “had seen life,” dwelt by himself in a comfortless cottage close to the rectory in the pretty country village where I had been converted. Not only did he habitually neglect worship in the House of God, but his past career had been of so shameful a character that he had long proved a curse in the neighborhood. The young people in the place were, indeed, so influenced by his example, that the worthy rector felt very keenly the difficulties of his work. I had heard much about this old Major, and how he had forbidden any outsiders to approach him on the subject of religion. In days gone by his surroundings had been—very different. He had been possessed of ample means besides his salary as an officer; but his large house, grounds and staff of servants had been parted with by degrees, for he had “wasted his substance in riotous living.”
It was the afternoon of my conversion in the mushroom field, when with rapid steps I had hastened to the Rectory, and told my kind hostess, Mrs. Foster, “Jesus has found me, and I have found Jesus. I cannot stop; I must hasten off to see the old Major, for God can turn him as He has turned me.” The calm and usually placid face of the lady gave way to a look of despair. She expostulated in vain as she cried, “Oh, my boy, do not go; he will kill you, for he keeps a loaded pistol, and has often threatened to shoot anyone who speaks to him about his soul.”
This terrifying news did not in the least affect me, or deter me from my purpose, as she had hoped; for my heart was filled with so deep a joy that I felt I must communicate the good news of a Saviour’s love to that apparently hopeless character.
I hurried off and soon reached the cottage, and knocked with my knuckles on the shabby, ill-painted door. There was no response; so without invitation I lifted the latch and entered. Very soon the old man came in from the adjoining room. He had an upright gait, and the marks of a gentle birth were still upon him, though his face showed evidences of drink and fast living. In angry excitement he exclaimed, “Who are you? A mere boy! what do you mean by so impertinent an intrusion? How dare you come here?” and he banged his thick knobbed stick with violence on the floor; exhausted by his passion, and sinking into an easy-chair, he glared at me!
“Forgive me,” I exclaimed gently, “but I am so happy. I am saved today, converted this very afternoon, and I want you, Major, to be saved also.”
Never shall I forget the scene as he cried out―
“Saved! Religion! none of it for me! It’s all lies and hypocrisy. Boy don’t you know I have said, over and over again, I will shoot anyone who speaks to me of these things?”
He tottered towards the wall and pointed to an old rifle and pistol, which he declared were loaded.
“Do you see these?” exclaimed he angrily.
“Stop a minute, Major,” cried I. “May I sit down?” “On no account,” said he.
Thus forbidden a seat, I advanced to the table and knelt down. “I am going to pray for you now, and with you.”
He growled savagely, and though my eyes seemed shut I knew he was staring hard at me. In spite of the threatened gun and pistol, there was no fear in my heart. God’s blessed peace filled my soul.
“Oh, God, save the Major! Oh, God, save him! Show him his need of Thee. Don’t let him be lost!” were the words uttered and repeated again and again.
Presently he advanced to the bare wooden table, and, leaning heavily on it, fell on his knees opposite me.
“Oh, God, save me!” he gasped and panted, and in tones choking with emotion cried, “Oh, save a wretched sinner! save me. Oh, my God, don’t let me be lost!” And I added reverently, “Hear us, for Jesus Christ’s sake. Amen.”
That prayer was wafted to heaven. We got up―the lad who, outwardly religious, had just found peace through the text, “The Blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son, cleanseth us from all sin,” and the old profligate, with tears running down his face.
He grasped my hand.
“That’s it! that’s it!” he exclaimed. “Truly I have found that the way of transgressors is hard; but I now confess my sin and guilt to God, Who is faithful and just to forgive.’ My mother’s Bible taught me this, years, years ago, but I hardened my heart and became a lost soul.”
As he again sank into his chair I sat by him, and told him how in the mushroom field God had met with me that very day; and said I, “My thoughts flew to you directly.”
“Yes,” he cried, “the blood of Jesus has done it―saved you and saved me,” and placing a heavy hand on my shoulder, he gave me his blessing: “God bless you, my boy.”
The story of grace in the winning of my first soul, which was related in the Rectory that evening, filled the Rector’s heart and that of Mrs. Foster with gratitude and praise.
Sunday soon came round, and then — wonder of wonders — who should be sitting in church but the Major, listening attentively―aye, eagerly — his transformed face showing he had found the Saviour. He now tried, by his testimony and example to undo, in some measure, the mischief he had done, and pointed not a few of the villagers to “the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world.” Instead of being, as heretofore, the curse of the good Rector and his parishioners―leading many to drink, swear and gamble —he became an untold blessing, and a real help in the work of God.
Courthope Todd.