We had in the battery of Royal Artillery stationed in Mandalay a man
whose career had been a peculiarly rough one, but who is now a very
bright Christian. He had led a wild life. He was a blacksmith by trade,
and, from his youth up, had been in the habit of spending all he possibly
could in beer, and, as is usually the case, the beer often made a mere
brute and vagabond of him. He first enlisted in a cavalry regiment, from
which, after being often in trouble, he deserted. For a time he got work,
but he still betook himself to the beer, and the beer made him talk,
and let out his former connection with the army, so that he frequently
had to disappear hurriedly, lest he should be arrested as a deserter.
Finding himself in want, he enlisted again, this time in the Royal
Engineers. From this corps he received his discharge in consequence of an
illness. Recovering, and entering once more on a course of dissipation,
he enlisted a third time, in the Royal Artillery. The Jubilee year gave
him the opportunity to confess his former desertion, and to secure his
share in the general pardon, extended by the Queen to all such cases
that year; and it was not long before the King of kings granted him His
pardon also. Whilst stationed at Woolwich, he happened one evening, when
feeling extremely dejected, to enter the Soldiers’ Home. The Wesleyan
chaplain met him there, spoke to him kindly, and invited him to a
meeting. He went. It was a fellowship meeting. He heard a number of his
comrades speak, but so dark was his mind in reference to religion, that
he could not understand them in the least. However, he gathered that
they possessed some source of comfort and joy within, of which he knew
nothing. He followed it up, became truly converted, and whilst with us
in Mandalay lived a most exemplary life, and exerted a very gracious
influence amongst his comrades. Religion had quickened, as it often does,
that once darkened and besotted nature; and I have seldom met with a
better example of the transforming, elevating power of the Gospel, the
power to keep and sanctify, as well as save.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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