While we lay at Secundrabad, one of my fifers died, of the name of Wilkins. This young lad came out with Colonel Conran in Wallajahbad, and was given me by the Colonel, to teach him the fife, with the worst of characters. The Colonel, moreover, told me that at any time when he misbehaved, I was not to vex myself with him, but just to order one of the drummers to flog him well with a cat. However, the young lad's behaviour was not at all what I might have expected from this very unfavourable character; for after my wife had put to rights his shirts, trowsers, and other clothes that had been served out to him on board ship, and which were much too large for him, and gave him a slovenly and dirty appearance upon parade—I say, after this was done for him, and he got some instructions how to keep himself trig and clean—I had not a finer boy in my corps; and this piece of voluntary attention on the part of my wife the poor fellow never could forget. Whatever he could give her, or do for her, he seemed to think all too little for her kindness; and to me he was every thing that was tractable and attentive. But the reason of my mentioning this boy more than any other of my acquaintance who died at this time, is, upon the account of the singular regard he shewed for his Bible, and the extraordinary circumstances by which it seems to have been excited; which I hope my reader will not find fault with me for particularly noticing.
One day, about the commencement of his fatal disorder, which was a flux, he was at the common place for the men, and our drum-major, and another young man of the name of Gardiner, happened to be there at the same time. These two fell into a strange and fearful discourse respecting their trouble, and the likely termination of it. Says the drum-major to Gardiner, "You are bad of the flux too, I see." To which Gardiner replied, "D——d bad, drum-major." "Well, so am I, and we will both die, and go to h—ll, but you will die first; and, remember, you are to come and meet me half way."
The poor lad came into our room, much alarmed, and told us the woful story; but he was much more so when they both died, and in the order predicted by the drum-major; but whether they went to hell, or whether the one met the other half-way, is not my business to determine; but this I say, from the infallible word of the Lord, "that the wicked shall be turned into hell, and all they that forget God." The trouble both of mind and body of this boy still increasing, his love for his Bible increased with it; for he was fully persuaded, that his Bible alone could tell him how to avoid that dreadful place of which his fears had been awakened, and likewise point out to him how he could be happy after death. A day or two before he died, I went to the hospital, to inquire how he was. I found him drawing near the close of life; but his complaints were not so much of his pain as of his being deprived of all means of reading the Bible, on account of the dimness of his sight, in consequence of his trouble. His comrade being permitted to be with him for some days before his death, I proposed that he should read to him sometimes; but at these words, Wilkins burst into tears, and being asked the reason, said, that it was because his comrade had never learned to read that blessed book. He still continued to get worse, until he died; but he would never part with his Bible, (although he returned to me Mr. Boston's Fourfold State, which I had lent him,) but kept it under his pillow, or hugged it in his bosom until he expired.
A few months after we came to Secundrabad, an order came for four companies of our regiment to proceed to Masulipatam, to do the duty of that place, and, amongst these was my good hospital friend, Alexander Chevis, for the which I was very sorry; but in a few months afterwards we received a route for the same place, to embark for foreign service, as every departure from India, for any island or country under the British government is called.
There is just one circumstance, which I will mention before I take my leave of this place, which appears fully as important to myself as any thing I have seen or experienced since I came to it; and it is this:—I had frequently been in heaviness, through manifold temptations, in consequence of my remaining ignorance, and corresponding want of faith, since my blessed affliction in the Prince of Wales's Island, and particularly after my kind instructor A. C. left the regiment with his company for Masulipatam, for I then lost him who had formerly "comforted me in all my tribulations, with that comfort wherewith he himself had been comforted of God;" but here I again found, as I had often formerly done, the loving kindness of the Lord, in a gracious providence, for he provided relief for me from a quarter whence I could have very little expected it, as I shall now relate:—
There was a person in the regiment, of the name of Serjeant Gray, with whom I had hitherto a very slender acquaintance. He was a married man, and I had never seen any thing but what led me to believe that he and his wife were what are generally called very decent, well-behaved people; though, whether they were at all concerned about religion or not, was a matter I was entirely ignorant of; but one day, when I was in a very melancholy mood, I thought I would go over to their barrack-room, and get a little social converse with them, to cheer me, which I accordingly did, and found only Mrs. Gray at home, industriously engaged in sewing. After having made inquiry for each other's welfare, I said it was a pity that there was no such thing as getting any good books, when a person had a little spare time, to improve his mind. She said it was, but immediately added, that she had at present the loan of what she thought a very excellent book, belonging to one of the men. I, somewhat eagerly, expressed a desire to see it, which she instantly complied with; but how was my astonishment excited, when I found it to be a book that my grandfather highly respected, and expressed his esteem for it by saying, that if he was condemned to spend the remainder of his earthly pilgrimage in an uninhabited island, like the Apostle John, and had it in his power to choose a few books to take along with him, the next he would select after his Bible, would be Doddridge's Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul. In the circumstances in which I was at that moment placed, I need scarcely give the Christian reader any unnecessary information, in saying, that "I rejoiced like one who had found great spoil." I then made so free with Mrs. Gray as to ask her to which of the men it belonged, and if she would let me have it for a day or two, that I might peruse it? She said I was very welcome to do that, and also told me who was the proprietor; but if I went to see her with a heavy heart, I returned home with a light one, for I was so overjoyed that I hardly knew that my weak limbs had a body to support. I had heard, as I have already said, that there was such a book existing, but I had never inquired after it when I could have made it my own, nor ever had seen it until this happy hour; and little could I have expected to find it in this wilderness, where, alas! there were no refreshing waters to satisfy the longing desires of a thirsty soul; and this book, I think, of all other human compositions I have yet known, was best adapted to my condition; neither is it necessary to add, that I read it over again and again, until I had almost the whole substance of those parts of it by heart which more immediately corresponded with the present state of my mind, and with my former experience. I must be plain enough to say, that I did not desire to keep this book altogether to myself, but wished also that others might derive benefit from its contents; but this I will also state, that I thought I would be a man possessed of great wealth if I could call it my own. I therefore inquired at the person to whom it belonged if he was disposed to part with it, and if so, that I would give him whatever price he would ask. He said that I was welcome to have it for sixteen finams, (about three shillings.) I therefore closed with him immediately for that small sum. I was now blessed with ample means of instruction, and I would indulge a hope that I was not only made wiser by it, but I trust also better, by the blessing of God upon my search after truth, and that it has not been to me the savour of death unto death, but the savour of life unto life. I shall add no more at present respecting this excellent work, as I shall have occasion to speak of it again.
CHAPTER VIII.
We left Secundrabad on the 11th February, 1811, and proceeded, by forced marches, to Masulipatam, where I had not long been when I was again thrown into a very disordered state, in consequence of the hot winds, being so ill with my breathing that my wife was under the necessity of fanning me during two whole days. After I recovered, there being some of my fifers in the hospital, I went in one day to see how they were getting on; and, to my great astonishment, as I entered the hospital, whom did I see there but my dear friend Alexander Chevis, lying like a skeleton in one of the cots. I looked at him for some time before I could believe my own eyes; and scarcely being yet sure, I said to him, "Sandy, is this you?" He answered in the affirmative. After having inquired into all particulars, and conversed a little with him, I immediately went home and described to my wife the situation of this good man; and we set about concerting measures that might in some degree mitigate his distresses,—for he was at this time far gone in the complaint under which I laboured, when he was "God's hand" in comforting and instructing me; and truly I saw here a divine call, as well as the call of a grateful heart, considering what he had done for me in Prince of Wales's Island.
Whenever my duty would permit, I was consequently in the hospital, reading and conversing with him; and on the two Sabbaths that he lived after this, I remained with him nearly the whole day; but my attendance on him was richly rewarded, for I learned more from this dying saint of what is really worth learning, than I had done all my life before.
A few nights before he died, he expressed a desire that I should bring my wife, and Serjeant Gray with his wife, who had formerly been friendly to him, that he might have the satisfaction of seeing us altogether before he departed, the which I did; and he had saved some of his daily allowance of wine, that we might all drink before him, and appear comfortable. When we were all seated, and had ate and drank together, he expressed himself in nearly the following words:—"My dear friends, although I may never again see you in this world, I wish that the keeper of Israel may keep you from falling before the many temptations to which you are exposed, and bless you, and preserve to his heavenly kingdom; and, although in all probability we shall never behold each other in the face, while here, I pray that the Lord may seal you among his treasures, and make you his, in the day when he maketh up his jewels."