those people who are always striving to trace back to a man’s early training or surroundings the real reason for any startling change in his life after he has long grown up, and do not believe in what the bible calls the new birth, must often be sorely puzzled. they seek for that which they wish to find, and often ignore any evidence which militates against their preconceived theories. yet the majority of them would be horrified were they told that this method of research is dishonest and misleading.

but in spite of what people may feel about the matter, it is of no use blinking the fact that very much of the so-called scientific investigation (which is not commercial) that is pursued to-day is tainted with this radical defect. especially is this so in matters of inquiry into[8] religious experience. there are many exceedingly clever and well-educated persons who would have their readers believe that in all cases where a man or woman has become a christian, and from serving the devil has turned and consistently served god, the change has been due to early impressions, which, accidentally encrusted over for a term, have been suddenly revived in all their pristine force, and have compelled the mind back into the channels in which it was originally taught to move.

now, if this were all that these reasoners said, one might remind them, or inform them gently, that they were only partially right—that while it is undoubtedly blessedly true that early influences for good do exert themselves most forcefully and unexpectedly in after years in a large number of cases, yet it is most untrue and god-dishonoring to suggest that christianity is purely a matter of education, of environment, of a long acquaintance with religious persons and matters. so far from this being the case, it is a truism with christian workers that very frequently their most hopeful converts have[9] been those who never heard the gospel before, or at least had never listened to it with the slightest attention, even though they may have actually caught the tones of the preacher’s voice. to such simple ones the water of the word of grace comes like the monsoon rains upon the burnt-up breadths of india, causing the apparently dead soil to put on at once a glorious garment of living green, life-giving, life-sustaining, beautifying and blessing all around it.

one of the most striking instances of this wonderful work of god in the soul that has ever come under my notice is that of a sailor who, strange as it may seem to-day, had never, until the time of which i speak, received the remotest idea of the relations of god to man, and had not the faintest conception of religion of any kind. born in the squalid slums of a lancashire town nearly sixty years ago, he became at a very early age a waif of the streets, losing all recollection of who were his parents, as they had forgotten all about him. it is hardly possible to conceive of a mind more perfectly desert than was john wilson’s. reading and writing were of course[10] out of the question, and it is probable that any mental operations that went on in his dark mind were more nearly related to brute instincts than to any of the ordinary processes of human reasoning.

now it is no part of my present plan, even if i had the necessary material, to trace johnny’s career from the gutters of —— until he found himself in the position of boy on board a north country collier brig, being then, as he supposed, about thirteen years of age. by some inherited tenacity of constitution he had survived those years of starvation, cold, and brutality, and was, upon going to sea, like a well-seasoned rattan, without an ounce of superfluous flesh upon him, and with a capacity for stolid endurance almost equalling a seminole indian.

of kindness he knew nothing, and had any one shown him any disinterested attention, he would have been as alarmed as are the birds in a london garden when a lover of them goes out to scatter crumbs. he would have suspected designs upon his liberty, or something worse. of the treatment he endured on board those[11] east coast colliers i do not dare to speak at present. the recital would, i know, arouse an almost frantic feeling of resentment that such things should have been possible such a handful of years ago, and readers would forget that, by the blessing of god, men’s hearts to-day, even in the lowest strata of our society, have been marvellously softened towards children. he learned many things on board those ships, he told me, but, so far as he knew, not one that was good. blasphemy, drunkenness, cruelty, debauchery—all these he became an adept in as he grew up, and besides he knew every conceivable trick by means of which he could shirk duty and shift it on to the shoulders of others.

at last he reached the dignity of able seaman, but i can bear witness that a less useful able seaman than he never darkened the door of a shipping office. and why? because he had devoted all his low animal cunning to the avoidance of learning anything, lest he should be compelled to put it into practice, at the cost of some trouble to himself; and what he was compelled to know he purposely practised as[12] badly as possible, so that he should seldom be called upon to do it. briefly, and in order to put the finishing touches to this unattractive picture, he was almost as perfect a specimen of unmoral animal as any course of training for the purpose of producing such an undesirable human being could have resulted in.

in this manner he passed the years of his life up to the age of thirty, drifting, like a derelict log, from ship to ship, and from shore to shore, all round the world. he was conversant with the interiors of most of the seaport jails in the world, for when under the influence of drink he was a madman, only to be restrained from doing deeds of violence by force, and utterly careless of the consequences of any of his actions. at last, in the course of his wanderings, he came to calcutta, and was enticed by a shipmate up to the sailors’ rest in the radha bazaar one sunday evening, when he had neither money nor credit wherewith to get drink. his shipmate was a christian of very brief experience, but he had the root of the matter in him, and knew that the next best thing to preaching the[13] gospel one’s self was to bring one’s friends in contact with some one who could. so it came about that harry carter, finding johnny wandering about the bazaars aimlessly and hungrily, proposed a feed to him, and by that means got him into the rest, where, after his hunger was appeased, harry succeeded in keeping him until the evening meeting.

at that time the meetings were conducted by two american missionaries to whom it was a perfect delight to listen, as they told in quaint language, loved and comprehended by sailors, the wonderful story of the coming of jesus to save poor fallen man. theirs was not preaching in a general way—every man in their presence felt that he was being individually conversed with, felt that the story of the cross was a simple narration of absolute fact, no mere theory of mysterious import, which only men and women who were specially selected and educated for the purpose could ever hope to understand. they told the wonderful tale in manly fashion, letting the god-given message just flow through them on its way from their father to their brethren.

[14]and johnny sat with eyes astare and mouth agape, as the straight, brave, certain words sank into his awakening mind. wonder, incredulity, shame—all struggled within him, all newly born, for it could hardly be said with truth that he had ever realized any of these emotions before.

at last the speaker said: “oh, my dear boys, some of you here have never known what it is to have a friend, yet there has been a friend by your side always, only begging you to be a friend of his. some of you have never had a home, yet this friend has been for nearly two thousand years preparing a home for you that is beyond all your hopes, beyond everything that you can imagine. some of you have never in your lives had any real joy; this friend has in his right hand for you pleasures for evermore, and in his presence there is fulness of joy. he can and will do for you exceeding abundantly above all that you ask or think. all these wonderful privileges may be yours for the taking; you haven’t even to ask for them—only say that you will accept them.”

other sweet words followed, but johnny[15] hardly heard them. in his dark soul there was such a turmoil as he had never before known. new needs, new desires were struggling for expression, and when the preacher dismissed his congregation with the earnest invitation for any to remain behind who felt they would like to know more about this wonderful gift, johnny sat still in his place with wide, starting eyes following every movement of the preacher.

at last that good man, passing from bench to bench, came to johnny, and at once saw that here was no ordinary seeker after peace. laying one arm tenderly across johnny’s bowed shoulders, and with the other hand taking one of the seaman’s gnarled and knotted hands, the missionary said, “brother, let him have you. he wants you to be happy, he does want your love. jesus, gentle jesus, died for you that you might be happy with him for all eternity.”

with a vehemence that was startling johnny turned and said, “does he know me?”

“yes, better than you do,” said the preacher.

“and he’s got all these things for me? i’ll work all the rest o’ th’ voy’ge but what i’ll have[16] this—i don’t care what it costs me, i’ll have it. you see if i don’t. i know now it’s what i been wantin’ all my life.”

“gently, my dear brother,” said the preacher, “you can’t buy it. he bought it with his blood to give it to you, and you can’t pay anything for it.”

“why, i never had anythink give me in my life,” said johnny. “’t ain’t right. everythink’s got ter be paid for, and i’m going ter pay for this. i’m no beggar, if i am a bit of a thief when i gets the chance.”

now, strange as it may seem, the hardest task that man of god had on that occasion was to convince this poor white savage that the gift of god was a gift. gladly, joyfully, would he have sold himself into a long slavery to have purchased what he felt he must have, yet for a long time he would not, could not, believe that it was “without money and without price.” at last despairingly he said: “oh! won’t he take a shillin’ for it? i got one in my chest, a lucky shillin’ with a hole in it i’ve had for years. let me go aboard an’ get it.”

[17]at last, with great difficulty, he was convinced that buying salvation was impossible, but impressed with the fact that he himself was from henceforth bought with a price, even the precious blood of the son of god. and while the weary evangelist was still toiling to explain, the lord took the matter in his own hands. and presently a joyful shout burst from johnny’s lips:

“light ho, sir! i sees it all. he’s got me, an’ he’ll never let me go. oh! why didn’t i know of this afore?”

he was a saved man. let those argue who will, dispute who can, johnny wilson was a standing proof of the power of god to save the most ignorant, the most callous of the sons of men. from that day forward, without any more teaching, save what he could get from any one who would read the gospels to him, he grew in grace. he was no more trouble aboard. his work was always done to the best of his ability, and you could safely trust him to work by himself, for, as he said: “my jesus is alonger me alwus.”

oh, but he was a real saint! nothing could[18] move him. he used to be hated by everybody—now he became the spoiled child of the fo’c’stle, at least in intent, for really he was unspoilable; but all hands, no matter what they thought, conspired to love johnny. and when on the subsequent voyage he died of a blow received in falling from aloft, all hands gathered round his bunk, to hear from him the story that had transformed his life. he gushed it out with his latest breath:

“jesus christ, god’s son, come down from heaven to look for me an’ make me happy. i wasn’t worth a rope-yarn to anybody, but he come and found me, an’ made me so glad. an’ now i’m a-goin’ ter see him. dear jesus christ, the friend of pore devils like me.”