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No. 82. 
 
 LIEUTENANT R., 
 
 OR THE 
 
 TRACT READ IN THE THEATRE. 
 
 Of my old respected friend, Lieutenant R., [ cannot 
 tell yon much, so many years having- elapsed since he 
 entered into glory, and [ never having committed to 
 paper any memoranda of his short, though most 
 satisfactory passage from the kingdom of darkness 
 to that of light and immortality. It was .about the 
 year 1S12 that, in the discharge of my professional du- 
 ties, I was requested to attend on Lieut. R., who was 
 the subject of severe, but transient disease. I had 
 been struck by the personal appearance and honorable 
 conduct of this young officer. I think I never knew a 
 handsomer man of twenty-five, one of more pleasing 
 manners, or more gentlemanly feelings. He was uni- 
 versally beloved and respected, and for these circum- 
 stances his company was so generally sought after, that 
 he became devoted to all the follies and unsatisfying 
 pursuits of pleasure, falsely so called. On recovering 
 his usual degree of health, he called on me to request 
 that I would report him off the sick list, and at the 
 same time tendered me some pecuniary acknowledg- 
 ment for my professional services, stating that he had 
 been accustomed to remunerate my predecessor. My 
 
answer was, of course, that which Christian principle 
 and integrity would suggest to any honest man paid by 
 the country. 
 
 This seemed to strike Lieut. R., and he exclaimed, 
 "By G — d, Dr., there must be something more than I 
 thought in you Methodists ! " I give you his own 
 words. 
 
 Early in the afternoon of that day, he called at my 
 apartments with a ticket for the theatre, and which, I 
 knew, he could have only obtained by paying an exor- 
 bitant price, there being two celebrated performers 
 from London that night, which for some days pre- 
 viously had raised the box tickets to four times their 
 ordinary value. On his presenting it to me, I expressed 
 my sense of obligation for his intended favor, but told 
 him that neither my principles nor inclination would 
 permit me to use it. Being in the act of arranoin<r 
 some tracts, I put into his hand " The Death of Alta- 
 mont," a tract published by the Religious Tract Soci- 
 ety, with merely observing to him: "as you seem so 
 anxious to confer an obligation on me, put this little 
 book into your pocket and read it to oblige me." 
 
 He left me to dress for the theatre, to which place he 
 went early to secure a seat. He sat in a corner box, 
 and, as he afterward toJd me, merely to pass away 
 some part of the previous time before the play began, 
 he took the tract from his pocket and began to read it. 
 So signal and mighty were the operations of the Spirit 
 of God on his mind, that he became wholly and exclu- 
 sively absorbed in the contents of the tract, and at the 
 termination of the play, after midnight, he left the thea- 
 tre without having felt the slightest interest in the per- 
 formances. To use his own words, "conscience was the 
 only performer before me that night." 
 
TRACT READ IN THE THEATRE. 3 
 
 It was about three o'clock in the morning that, after 
 having on his return from the theatre thrown himself 
 undressed on his bed, and in vain attempted to drown 
 the voice of God in oblivion, lie came over to my apart- 
 ments, and loudly knocking at the door, requested to be 
 admitted. As long as memory retains her seat, I can 
 never forget his haggard looks and his tremulous voice. 
 With a look of despair, and in a manner which seemed 
 to carry with it a conviction of irretrievable ruin, he 
 exclaimed J " Tell me, oh !. tell me, is it possible that I 
 can obtain mercy and forgiveness from the offended 
 God of Altamont? Tell me, oh ! tell me, if you really 
 think I possibly can?" Hastily dressing myself, we 
 sat together on the sofa, he in a state of restless agony, 
 which expressed itself in incessant weeping and wring- 
 ing of the hands, reiterating again and again the ques- 
 tion he had just put to me. I at once led him to the 
 throne of grace — wrestled along with him, that He 
 would reveal himself in all his mighty, enlightening 
 and consolatory power, who ever lives to save to the ut- 
 termost all who come to God by him. Whilst on our 
 knees, I brought before him the boundless mercy of Je- 
 hovah, and the freeness and fullness of that salvation 
 which, whosoever will may receive without money and 
 without price, and it was worth living for to witness the. 
 eagerness with which he listened to the simple tale of 
 redeeming love, and the glad tidings of free and full 
 salvation by faith in the atoning blood of Jesus. The 
 same day and night he scarcely tasted food or took any 
 rest, and no drowning man could more vehemently call 
 for assistance, nor any famishing man more greedily 
 devour the means of support, than he sought for war- 
 rant in the promises of the gospel, to lay hold of the 
 hope there set before him. 
 
4 LIEUTENANT R., OR THE 
 
 In a few days it pleased God to enable him to cast 
 himself as a ruined, helpless sinner, into the arms of 
 Jesus, and I can never forget the expression of his 
 countenance, pale and languid as it was with groaning 
 and cries, which had been his meat day and night, 
 when on entering his room early on the fourth morning, 
 it became almost illuminated with tears of sacred joy, 
 and he exclaimed, [ have found him whom my soul 
 Joveth, the friend of sinners, who his own self says, 
 him that cometh to me, I will in nowise cast out. Look 
 at it, do look at it, in this precious book which you gave 
 me, at the same moment holding up a New Testament, 
 which was to him the pearl of great price. I had, on 
 the preceding day, directed his attention to the follow- 
 ing passages of scripture, among several others: Luke 
 ii, 10; John iii, 14-17; vi, 37; Rom. x, 4; 1 Tim. i, 15; 
 Heb. 7, 25; 1 John i, 9; ii, 1,2. He had committed 
 these and many other passages of holy writ to memory, 
 and dwelt on them with indescribable satisfaction 
 
 From this hour, having credited the simple declara- 
 tions of truth, he went on his way rejoicing, knowing in 
 whom he had believed, and that lie would keep that 
 which he had committed to his trust, to the solemn hour 
 when he should be called to appear at the dread tribu- 
 nal of a righteous God, where inflexible justice would 
 be satisfied with nothing short of that robe which hides 
 and cancels all our sins. 
 
 Within a month he was called to embark with his 
 regiment for the West Indies, and scarcely had he 
 reached that unhealthy climate, even before disembark- 
 ing, when it pleased God, in his mysterious providence, 
 to arrest him by yellow fever, and in a few days to call 
 him to the realms of perfect purity and bliss. On the 
 day preceding his embarkation, he supplied himself 
 
TRACT READ IN THE THEATRE. D 
 
 liberally with bibles and tracts, for distribution to all 
 on board, and his separation from me was one which 
 may be imagined, but which I dare not trust myself to 
 describe. I was to hear from him on his arrival at Ja- 
 maica, but the first account of him was an official report 
 of his death, and this was soon followed by the return 
 of his faithful confidential servant-man, who told me, 
 with the deepest sorrow, that after a sudden attack of 
 fever, which deprived him of his reason, he recovered 
 his consciousness and requested the presence of all his 
 brother officers, to whom, in his expiring- moments, he 
 preached Christ crucified as the only refuge from the 
 wrath to come, and the only source of solid happiness. 
 During this time he held in his quivering hand the 
 identical tract that lie had received from me before go- 
 ing to the theatre, and with this messenger of mercy, 
 grasped more firmly as life fled, he expired amid the 
 lamentations of those who esteemed him as a man and 
 an officer, and was buried with the tract pressed to his 
 heart. 
 
 One of our ingenious military friends, says the Rich- 
 mond Examiner, thinks the colporteurs are doing great 
 harm in our army by circulating terrible tracts in the 
 camps, and on the eve of expected battles, confronting 
 our men with little pamphlets, entitled "Are you ready 
 to die?" "Sinner, you are soon to be damned/' etc. 
 
 This is more than a mistake. The best stimulation 
 of courage and endurance in the army, is to be found in 
 an inculcation of Christian spirit among the men 
 With more religion in our camps, we will have less 
 drunkenness, less dissatisfaction, less grumbling, and a 
 courage which becomes invincible, as it is refined by 
 the pure and holy spirit of religious convictions. An 
 
OR TH1 
 
 army stands as much in need of m/» a I and religious 
 education as any equal number of men composing a 
 social community; and the colporteurs are doing a 
 work which, even in worldly expediency, is not to be 
 despised. 
 
 The higher order of patriotism is closely akin to re- 
 ligion, and the loftiest courage is always associated, if 
 not with religious profession, at least with deep feelings 
 of reverence for the divine mysteries of life and death. 
 The man who blanches at the question, u are you pre- 
 pared to die?" or worse than that, puts it off* with a 
 sneer, is destitute of true courage. Many a man who, 
 in times of peace and safety, hardens his heart and im- 
 agines himself to be brave, will, when the battle is 
 raging around him, howl in terrified agony of spirit to 
 God for mercy, while the Christian soldier stands be- 
 fore the red crash of death, not in sight of his "Empe- 
 ror," as the French soldiers at Solferino did, but in the 
 sight of hie God. 
 
 We must remark the painful evidences of the loss of 
 the sense of our dependence on God as the war has 
 progressed. It did not commence so. The City of 
 Charleston is said to have been, on the eve of the battle 
 of Fort Sumter, like one vast altar, from which as- 
 cended the incense of prayer. The whole nation, from 
 Virginia to Texas, commemorated our early and bril- 
 liant victory of Manassas by thanksgiving in the ten 
 thousand sanctuaries of the land. But there has lately 
 been a marked relaxation of this sense of our depen- 
 dence on the God of battles. It has been impiously 
 said that the battle of Belmont was won by the ener- 
 getic oaths of our officers. There has been a wretched 
 plausibility that has preached in favor of immoral in- 
 dulgences in our army, that has given eclat to profanity 
 
TRACT READ IN THE THEATRE. 7 
 
 of officers in battle, and that has winked at drunken- 
 ness in the camps, by questioning the military virtues 
 of water drinkers. We have a great work before us. 
 It may not be assisted by the mere cant and whines of 
 religious pretension, but it certainly will be assisted by 
 that hearty and reverent sense of dependence on Divine 
 Providence, and that practical habit of religious suppli- 
 cation which strengthened our fathers in the times of 
 their trial, and has everywhere left their evidences of 
 reward on the pages of history. 
 
LAST WORDS OF DYING SINNERS. 
 
 "Millions of 'money for one minute of time!" exclaimed a dy- 
 ing lady of rank, of beauty, and of power; but not a minute 
 was to be found for her in tin- world of time. She^iad spent her 
 years in the pursuit of pleasure, and never had one moment to 
 spare for the great concerns of the world to come. 
 
 " // is too late, I am lost!" was the dying cry of a young man 
 who had passed through a revival of religion, and had not been 
 moved by the power of the Holy Spirit. Sudden sickness seized 
 him, and death stared him in the face, and he was filled with 
 anguish when he saw the danger of his precious soul. He was 
 urged to fly to the Saviour and trust him, as did the thief on the 
 cross. But with the lamentation on his lips, " Too late, I am 
 lost !" he expired. 
 
 Mr, Ilervey called to see a dying man, who thus gave utter- 
 ance to the deep sorrows of his soul : " I see a horrible night 
 approaching, bringing with it the blackness of darkness for ever. 
 Woe is me. When God called, I refused. Now I am in sore 
 anguish, and yet this is but the beginning of sorrows. I shall 
 be destroyed with an everlasting destruction ! " 
 
 U I won't die now" cried a young lady, when she felt the pangs 
 of death getting hold upon her. But as they increased, and she 
 saw there was no way of escape, and that, whether willing or 
 not, she must die, she cried out, " Lord, what must I do V and 
 fell back in death. 
 
 A rich man was dying, and when the physician had exhausted 
 his skill in fruitless attempts to arrest the violence of his disease, 
 the sufferer asked, " shall I never recover ? " " You are quite 
 sick," answered the doctor, " and should prepare for the worst." 
 " Cannot I live for a week V " "No; you will probably continue 
 but a little while." " Say not so," said the dying man, " I will 
 give you a hundred thousand pounds if you will prolong my life 
 three days." " I could not do it, my dear sir, for three hours," 
 said the doctor, and the man was dead in less than an hour. 
 
 " There is no mercy for me now!" said a youth, who had been 
 careless and irreligious in health, and now in sickness he felt 
 that the atonement which he had despised was not within his 
 reach. He died without hope, protesting to the end that there 
 was no mercy for such a sinner as he. 
 
 " TO-DAY, IF YE WILL HEAR HIS VOICE, HARDEN NOT YOUR 
 HEARTS." — LlEB. IV. 7. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY THE SOUTH CAROLINA TRACT SOCIETY. 
 
 Printed by Evans & Cogswell, No. 3 Broiid street, Charleston, S. C. 
 
Hollinger Corp. 
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