THE HARBINGER. 311 CHAPTER XX. The Harbinger. "While the labour lasted, while the race was running, .... Hope was glad at the beginning, and fear was sad midway, IN the early part of August 1855, after all these orders and counter-orders, the fiat was issued that was at last to send Maxy Hammond forth to finish the work that had been appointed for him here. Was he indeed, through the darkness and doubt that clouded his last autumn mornings, permitted to see in their near reality the eternal towers? Did he, like the Idumean inquirer, through the dim twilight of time, seek for the morning? "Watchman, what of the night? watchman, what of the night?" If so, doubtless, the answer was vouchsafed to him-"The morning cometh"-the night was indeed far spent, and the day was at hand. On the 9th of August his father, his mother, one brother, and one sister, went down to Southsea. On Friday, August 10, Maxy read with his wife for the last time. 1 Pet. i. 1-8. After the passage had been read, he repeated to himself, "incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away." He then said he had chosen a verse for his wife, "Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, leaning on her beloved?" And said, that was the attitude of soul that we should seek after. It had been settled that the rest of his family should come on that morning at nine to breakfast: so that he, with his wife, had a quiet time for prayer before they arrived. They knelt together in the drawing-room. He prayed for his wife, that the removal of earthly joy might the more endear to her her God and her Saviour. The impression on his mind seemed that of a very long separation as before them, and he used the expression, "Give her wisdom and grace to train up her child in the nurture and admonition of the Lord," as though she were going to bring it up herself. In the same prayer he said, "Thou hast given us life: none can take away that life until thou dost thyself recall it." In the previous year, February 1854, when on the eve of embarkation, at a season precisely analogous to this, with all the uncertain future before him, he made use of a very remarkable expression, treasured up by us all, which perhaps comes more home to us now, and will find its place most seasonably here. He was sitting with his wife before the evening service; and, speaking of the coming trials and the dangers of war, he said, "I know the anxiety you will feel; but one cannot be anxious about one's self, for I feel I am so entirely in God's hands," and then he added, with a calm solemnity of tone, and as if weighing every word, "and if God should see fit to take me in that manner, sudden death is to the believer but sudden glory." The St Albans party, his father, mother, brother, and HIS LAST PRAYER WITH HIS FAMILY. 313 sister, arrived. They were all in the dining-room. The servants came in. There was a depth of feeling and a calm dignity in Maxy's manner which was very striking. All present felt it. He said to his brother E * * *, a clergyman, 'E * * *, you must let me be my own priest to-day, please," and he then read the 121st and 125th Psalms, “I will lift mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved he that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is thy keeper, the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand. The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore." "They that trust in the Lord shall be as Mount Zion, which cannot be removed, but abideth for ever. As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is round about his people from henceforth even for ever. For the rod of the wicked shall not rest upon the lot of the righteous, lest the righteous put forth their hands unto iniquity. Do good, O Lord, unto those that be good, and to them that are upright in their hearts. As for such as turn aside unto their crooked ways, the Lord shall lead them forth with the workers of iniquity but peace shall be upon Israel." Those who were present will never forget the calming and solemnising effect of his beautiful prayer: commending himself to God, and those especially whom he was leaving behind to His love, and care, and grace. His special prayer for himself was, "That he might honour God, whatever scenes he might pass through." Little Nina, his child, two years and one month old, knelt at the sofa between her mother and her aunt F***. They feared she would interrupt the stillness, but she seemed to feel the solemnity of what was passing, and was quiet throughout. The preparations for departure were soon completed, and Maxy took leave of his wife, his child, and those of his family assembled at Southsea, to see them here no more. Bitter indeed was the parting, nor would it be possible it should pass without some misgivings, some forecast of sorrow in store. If holy Jacob could pour out the sorrows of an anxious heart, might not the Christian father, without rebelling, say, "If mischief befall him by the way in the which ye go, then shall ye bring down my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave." Before sailing, Maxy Hammond found time, as usual, to make some provision for the spiritual wants of his men. A well-known publisher says in a letter-" Captain Hammond was in ✶ ✶ ✶ Street a few days before he sailed, and he was then, as always, intent upon obtaining for his men such publications as he thought likely to do them good. In the brief conversation we then had with him, we can well remember how warm a place the men under his command had in his Christian sympathies." The vessel appointed to convey those officers who were under orders for the Crimea was lying at Woolwich, and there Captain Hammond arrived late on the evening of the 11th. Here he was joined by his two other brothers and a sister, who had not received intelligence of his sudden departure in time to join the rest at Southsea. At the house of a kind and old friend they were expecting his arrival. Late at night a carriage drove up, and he jumped out; his face, as usual, forestalling the warm and joyful greeting of his lips. He was in uniform, with his pouch-belt and sword. All were struck with the very great apparent improvement in his health. He had latterly entirely thrown off the effects of his illness; and it seemed as if God, in His gracious love, had restored him to the full and complete possession of his bodily vigour, in order that, in the last great earthly struggle that remained, he might go forth "strong in the power of His might,” and honour Him, by his bearing before man, in answer to his prayers. Very cheerlessly the Sabbath morning came. The sun strove feebly to break the cold grey sky, and then withdrew within the mist. At an officer's quarters in the dockyard the party met and breakfasted together. They then joined together in prayer. The chapter read was Heb. xiii., "Let brotherly love continue." After breakfast, they walked through the dockyard to the quay. And though no sound of hammer, nor axe, nor iron tool was there, yet gun, mortar, ambulance, and tumbril, and pyramids of heavy shot and shell, spoke to us of purpose strangely at variance with that day of holy rest. Nearly midway across the river, the Harbinger was lying at her moorings, her black hull casting a heavy shadow upon the dull water. Volumes of brown smoke from her funnel indicated that she would soon be under weigh. Hailing a boat to go on board, and passing down the granite steps, along whose sides the sleepy ripple floated up the slimy weeds, and washed the red rust from cramp and iron |