IN the year when Queen Victoria was crowned the subject of this narrative first saw the light of day. His parents, who were in very humble circumstances, belonged to that class spoken of as "rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which he hath promised to them that love him." In those days reading and writing were almost unheard of amongst poor villagers, and I am told that the boy's parents did not learn to read until after their conversion.
It may appear strange to speak of "conversion" on the part of any one being unable to read the word of God—the Bible; but in their case, most evidently, faith came by hearing. They heard the gospel and believed the good news, so that ever afterward their lives were bright in the conscious knowledge of the Lord Jesus as their Saviour, Lover and Friend. No mere, dry formality seems ever to have entered their lives; all was fresh and real.
The lad of whom we write, being the eldest of the family, had to go out to work when about seven years old, and was engaged by a large sheep owner as shepherd-boy, and was delighted to take home each Friday evening the one shilling and sixpence which represented his week's work. As time rolled along his mother used often to read to him those wonderful Bible stories about shepherds, until he began to feel quite proud of being himself a shepherd boy. As for the wonderful Book itself, who can tell the real value of it to that family? To the boy it was spelling book and dictionary combined, as well as the Book through which he believed God did really speak to those who lived in this world. His father used to speak of it as God's word settled in heaven, and a great impression of its wonderful contents was felt by the boy when listening to his father reading the last chapter of the prophet Malachi.
At that time a deluded would-be prophet was stirring the minds of many by affirming that in six months from a given date the end of the world would come. This announcement troubled the boy very much, not because of any conviction of sin, but because he had not experienced in himself any such change as the Bible stated must take place before the great and dreadful day of the Lord come. Young as he was, there was a kind of belief in the Book, and a fear that it would be sad for him.
Time passed, and this prophet's words proved worthless; but that which is of God remains and will be verified in its due time. Grace was then, as now, reigning, and it had taught the boy's parents to tread the heavenly road and also how to pray. Their own souls had been often gladdened and enriched from above through that which they had learned of God; and it was this which they sought to leave as an inheritance to their children.
Our shepherd boy was the subject of many prayers, and this seemed to call forth from the enemy of all good, his special force against what had been implanted by godly parents. For although studious and thoughtful, and accounted a "good boy," yet no sooner had his mother passed away than all that seemed to have molded his character vanished, and his godly father's heart was filled with grief because of him. Nevertheless, a lasting impression was made on his mind, when his dying mother, after the singing of a favorite hymn, said,
“Jesus does make my dying bed
Feel soft as downy pillows are,
While on His breast 1 lean my head,
And breathe my life out sweetly there.”
Then, as if gazing into heaven itself, she spoke of heavenly light, and her happy spirit entered into rest. Her last words, "Light! Light!! Light!!!" thrilled the boy in a way he never forgot. His mother's God was a reality, but to him everything seemed blank. Hard thoughts of God filled his mind, and his own words written by him after his eyes were opened may give some indication of his after-course. “I strayed just like a silly sheep. I strayed from counsel good. I often fell along the slippery path of sin. I fell near to a watery grave—near to an open hell; but God was even there. My life was preserved, and now through Jesus' precious blood my soul is saved.”
This covered a period of about ten years, during which he joined H.M. service as a soldier, and being smart he earned quick promotion and became drill-instructor. “Who would have thought, "said he," that the shepherd boy from the Wiltshire downs would ever be on Dover heights drilling the sons of English noblemen?”
But there he was, puffed up through his position by day, and drawn down by night, into those Satanic dens—the music-halls and dancing saloons—along to destruction.
There is one outstanding incident in his career which must be mentioned. When stationed at the old Anglesea Barracks at Portsmouth he received the news from home that a Mr. Mann, of Trowbridge, was to preach in the chapel at Portsea.
The son wrote to his father a letter intended to flatter him and to stop this inconvenient spiritual solicitude for him. Before sending it, however, he offered to read it for the amusement of his comrades. Standing on the great iron barrack-room fender he commenced to do so, when in an instant the laughing ceased, for the fender pitched forward and the head of the strong young man was fixed to the spiked point of the burning grate. He was quickly removed to Portsmouth Hospital and his life despaired of. When spoken to about his father, his conscience was terribly troubled, and he asked that if he died they would let it remain all untold, as he felt so unworthy of such a father. But God in mercy preserved and brought him back to his praying parent.
(To be continued)