Great pains were bestowed upon Hubert's education, as he grew up to youth; but from his birth he was of such a passionate turn, and at times so ungovernable, that he was the source of all the sorrow that for many years fell to the lot of his parents: he was different to their other children, and many a time when reproof had been necessary, and the little wayward one, after a troubled day, had retired to rest, his mother's heart, still heavy, led her softly to the bed where he lay sleeping, and there, kneeling down, she would commend him again, with perhaps a deeper earnestness, to that One who knew all her trouble, and whom she knew could alone help her. Once the boy awoke as his mother knelt beside him, and, as though in answer to her prayer that his heart might be changed, he burst into tears, and, throwing his arms round her neck, expressed deep sorrow at having grieved her, and promised to try and do better. Poor mother! her joy was brief; in a very short time he was as undutiful and rebellious as ever, and so he continued until he reached the age of twelve years, when, as he had determined upon being a soldier, his parents, much against their wish, sent him to a military school, to be educated for the army.
A year rolled away, and all the accounts that came from the master of Hubert's school informed his parents that he was a bold, unruly boy—a great deal of trouble to his teachers—but he would probably tame down a little in time, and do very well for the profession he had chosen. Many and many a time these parents wept over the letters which spoke thus of their son: they wished him to be a good soldier—one fearing and serving God—and they oftentimes repeated their tale of sorrow to their good pastor, in whom they were wont to confide; but his meed of comfort was ever the same. What other could he offer? Good man, he knelt with them, directed them to the source of true comfort, the Lord Jesus Christ, and tried to lighten their hearts' burden by drawing them nearer to the hand that afflicted them.
When Hubert had been three years at school, he obtained, through the influence of friends, a cadetship in one of the regiments belonging to the East India Company; he was still only a boy, and his parents had rather he had not gone entirely away from them so soon, for they felt, and with some truth, that while he was at school he was at least under their protection, if not their guidance. Hubert, however, came home to them a fine noble-looking youth, delighted at the prospect before him, and as proud and vain as possible at being at last really a soldier. How much his parents loved him, and how they tried to persuade themselves that the vivacity and recklessness he showed arose more from the hilarity of a heart buoyant with youthful spirits, than from an evil nature! but when, on the first Sabbath after his return home, he scoffed at the manner in which they observed that holy day, another arrow pierced their bosoms, another bitter drop fell into their cup of sorrow.
During the three years Hubert had been at school, his parents had gradually observed that, though he did perhaps attend to most of their wishes, there was a careless sort of indifference about him; and though they were always glad to see him in his vacations, they were as glad to see him go back to school, because their home was more peaceful, and every one was happier when he was not there. Think of this, boys, whoever you may be, that are reading this story, and when you spend a short time with those kind parents who love you so much, let them see, by your kindness and willing obedience, that you wish to love them as much as they love you; and never let them have to say that their home is happier when you are not there: no, rather let them rejoice at your coming home, welcome you, and think of you as the bright light that cheers every one in their dwelling; and if they can do that, be assured that God will bless you.
Only a fortnight's leave of absence had been granted to Hubert, and one week had gone. The way in which he had spoken of sacred things, and of the manner in which they had observed the Sabbath, roused his mother; and though her reproof was gentle, she was earnest, and tried all she could to influence him to better thoughts. She told him of the many snares and dangers he would have to encounter, and the many temptations that ever lurk along the path of youth; of the strange country to which he was going; and of the doubly incurred danger of going forth in his own strength. He listened as she talked to him; but along that way which she so dreaded, all his hope and young imagination were centred, and he grew restless and impatient to be gone.
They were busy in Hubert's home; brothers and sisters all helped to forward the things necessary for their eldest brother's future comfort, and they sat later than usual round the fire the last night of his stay with them; for everything was ready, and the mail-coach would take him from them early on the morrow. The ship which was to convey Hubert to India was to sail from Portsmouth, and as his father was in ill-health, there was some concern in the family circle about his having to take the journey alone; he promised, however, to write immediately he reached the vessel, and so, with many a kiss and many a prayer, the family separated for the night.
It was a lovely autumn morning in the year 1792; everything round Hubert's home looked beautiful, and his brothers and sisters, as they clustered around him, and gave him their last kisses, each extorted a promise that he would write a long letter to them very soon. Excitement had driven off every regret at parting with him, and one young brother ran off long before the time, to keep watch at the gate for the coach coming.
The time for Hubert to go drew near, and his father, infirm from recent sickness, took his hand as he bade him farewell, and laying the other upon his head, reminded him once more of lessons long ago taught, and long ago forgotten; gave him again good counsel concerning his future life; then pressed him earnestly to his heart, and prayed God to keep him. Then came his mother; she had already poured out the deep sorrow she felt at his leaving her, and had endeavoured to school herself to the parting; without a word she threw her arms round his neck, and bent her head for some minutes over him. "Oh, Hubert," she at length said, "when sickness or trouble comes upon you, you will be far from home, and there will be none of us, who love you so dearly, near to comfort you, and no one to try and guide you right; but see here, I have a Bible; take it, treasure it as my last gift, and promise me that you will read it every day. I care not how little you read, but promise that you will read some: you will never regret it, and may it teach you the way to heaven."
"I will read it, mother; I wish I were as good as you are; I know I am not like the others. Mother dear, don't cry; I will try and do as you wish; good-bye!" and after kissing her affectionately he hurried from the house.
The coach was at the gate, round which the children gathered, and for a few minutes every one seemed busy. The servant-man was there with Hubert's trunk and a small leather bag; the nurse had come round from the back garden with the baby; cook followed, and stood a little way behind the gate with her arms half wrapped up in her apron; and the housemaid stood at one of the open bed-room windows; while on the steps of the door were his parents, joining in the farewell to the first-born. Pilot, the house-dog, seemed to have some notion of the passing event, for he had come to the gate too, and did not, as was his usual custom, race and gambol with the children, but sat down amongst them all, apparently in a thoughtful mood. Hubert kissed his brothers and sisters, and then took his seat amongst the passengers; then came many a good-bye, and waving of handkerchiefs, and the coach rolled away.