GENERAL GORDON.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXI, Issue 6996, 19 April 1884, Page 2 (Supplement)

GENERAL GORDON.

x - [SECOHD, NOTICE.] atJSPIXttENTABr to the biographical-sketch we have already givea of the above remarkable'man,'we publish the following interest-, lug details, being principally extracts from ■Vn'a private letters. , They afford us an insight Sato the inner life of this noble man and give U3 the secret of his greatness and how it is that at this moment he ij an object of affection. t:>'tens of thousands and has won the 'admiration and. attention of the world. 'Here avesbaie of his reflections, when camped in-.the heart of his African province : ! -"It is our own fanlt we are so discontented. We throw away the be3t years of. 'our existence in trying for a time, which will 'never ctme, when wa shall have enough to content us. lam sure it is the secret of trae ' happiness to be content with what we actually have. Of course you may preach this (and it has' Wen preached for ages) and never be listened to. We raise our own goblins, and "as soon as one is laid we -raise another. I 'confess that I have nof patience with the ■'groans of : half the world, and dcclare I think ; there is more happiness among these miser-' 'able blacks, who nave not a meal from day ito day, than among our own middle classes. The blacks are glad of a little handful of •Inaize, and' live in the greatest discomfort. 'They- have not a strip to cover them; but : you do not see them granting and groaning 'all'day long, as you see scores and scores in j England, with their wretched dinner parties and attempts at gaiety, where all is hollow and miserable. I gave you * Watson on Contentmetot'—it is ttie true expositor of how happiness is to bs obtained, i.e„ by submission to the will of God, whatever that will may be. He who can say he realises this has overcome , v ttre world and its trials. Everything that happens to-day, good or evil, is settled and .'fixed, and it is no use fretting over it Tne • quiet peaceful life of our Lord was solely due •'to His submission to God's will. Xhere will b3 times when a strain may coma on one, but it •is Only for a time ; and as the strain, so will • your strength be."

; The next extract shews the tender humanity which mingles in Gordon's nature witb •his strength and valour :

"T took a poor old bag-of-bone3 into my Sbainp a month ago, and have been feeding 'tier up ;.,but yesterday she was quietly taken off, and now knows all things. She had her tobacco up to the la3t, and died quite quietly. , What'a change from her misery ! I suppose she filled her place in life as wall a3 Queen Elizabeth. . . . A wretched black sister ot yours is now struggling up the roid, but she is sticha wi3p of boae3 that the wind threatens to overthrow her ; so she has halted, preferring the rain to being cast down, i verily be;lieve she would never got up again unhelped. ?Ihave sent her some aiioora, which will pro- ' duce a spark of joy ia her black and withered : carcase. She has not even a cotton gown ou, arid I do not think her apparel would be worth' one-fiftieth of a penny. ! "Aug. 4.—1 am bound to give you the sequel of the lady whom I helped yesterday in the gale of wind. I had toid my man to : see her into one of the huts, and thought he had done eo. The night was stormy and liainy, and when I awoke I heard often acry!ing of a child near my hut within the enclosure. When I got up, I went oat to see ■what it was, and passing tiiTough thegateway, I saw your and my black sister lying dead in a pool of blood ; her black brothers had been passing and passing, and had taken no notice of her.' -So I went and ordered her to be huried, and passei on. In the midst of the iligh grass was a baby about a year or so old, left by itself. It bad bssa out all night in the rain, and had been left by its mother— children are always a nuisance ! I carried it in, and seeing tbe corpse was not moved, I cent again about it, and went with the men •to have it buried. To my surprise and astonishment she was alive. After a considerable trouble I got the black brothers to "lift her out of the mud, poured some brandy •down her throat, and got her into a hut with a fire, having the mud washed out of 3ier sigh ties 3 eyes. She was not more than •sixteen" years of age. There she now lies ; I canno:; help hoping she is floating down with the tide to her haven of rest. The babe is taken care of by another family for a certain consideration of maize per diem. I dare say vou will see—in fact, I feel sure you .will see—your black sister some day, and she will "tell you about it, aad how Infinite' Wisdom directed the whol<> affair. I know this is a tough morsel to believe, but ■it "is true." I prefer life amidst sorrows, if those sorrows are inevitable, to a life spent m inaction. • Turn where you will there are Borrows and troubles. ' Many a rich per3on IB'as.unhappy and miserable as this rag of -mortality, and to them you can minister. ; *This mustard is very badly made,' was the remark of one of my staff some time ago, when' some of our brothers were stalking about showing every bone of their poor bodies.

"Aug. s.—The Hag is still alive. Tho tabs, who is not a year old, seized a gourd of milk and drank it off like a man last night, and is apparently in for the pilgrimage of life.. It does not seem the worse for its night'out,' depraved little wretch ! "Aug. 5. —Just a line.' I hope you will not fret. Your black sister departed this life at 4 p.m., deeply lamented by me; not so by "her black brothers, who thought.her a nuisance. When I went to see her this morning I heard the ' lamentations' of something on the other side of the hut. I went foun<f ; and found one of our species, a visitor o£ ten or. twelve months to this globe, lying in a pool of mud. lam not sure whether he was not les3 in age. I said, ' Here is a another foundling !' and had it taken up. : Its mother came up afterwards, and I mildly expostulated with her, remarking however good mud might be for the spawn of frogs, it. waa not good for our specie 3.' The creature drank milk after this with avidity." .

Again he moralises s "I have done all my accounts with, the Government, and am now, a3 far as the things of the world are concerned, ready to depart; but something tolls me I shall not do so yet. The intense comfort of having no fear, no' uneasiness about being ill, i 3 very greatj and more than half the'cause of good health. . 'So comfort is equal to that which ho has .who ha 3 God for his stay ; who ijelieves not in words, but in fact, that all things are ordained to happen, and must happen. He who has this has already died, .arid is'free from the annoyances of thi3 life. I do riot say I have attained to this perfect ~tate. but I have it as my great desire. . . .

" People say or tliiak, X)o not break the •world's code of honour, and it matters little how we break tha code o£. God. How we ignore him in all things. Never shall I forget what I got when 1 scored ou£ the inscription on the gold medal. How I have been repaid a million-fold 1 There is now not one thing I value in the world. Its. honours— • they, are false; its knick-knacks—they are .perishable and useless. Whilst I live I value God's blessing—health, and if you have that, as far as this world goe3, you are rich." About hard work he writes : . " I feel much the want of something to do. I have been working at a great many things, .but-1 cannot fully occupy my time. It is --very dull work, One cannot tell what a bleesing employment is till we lose it. Like one's health we do not notice these blessings. . . Inaction to me is terrible. . . . l ast God for the following things :—l. Not to be disturbed if the Khedive sent me away to-morrow. 2. Not to'be disturbed if he keep's ine. 3. Not to have anything of the world come between Him and me ; and not to fear death, or to feel regret if it came before I-completed what I may think my programme.- ' Thank. God, he gives me the most comforting assurance tbat nothing so all disturb me, or come between Him and me."

• " What a climate it is ! The only thing (except-God's keeping, which is all) to keep well is to keep employed at anything ; never be idle, or you will mope and succumb."

•In the midst of his hard work Gordon oftentimes falls into religieus meditations, as here:

'•"Why are people hearses, and look like the'pictures of misery? It must'be from discontant at the government of God, for all things are directed by Him. ' They cannot bo happy when so many are suffering' is all nonsense; - for they do not love their fellowcreatures to suoh an extent. If so, they •would'show their love by doing more for them. - J Discontent (see Watson on 'Contentment')—that is what it is. But they say. 'X am so-wear v.'" Weary of what? Of idleness, perhaps.' - No one has anything to make him jroallyJweary,' if his heart is in tune with God and ho lms "health. ■ The cruet-stand expression'of countenance ought to be taxed among us.' V - If by. being doleful-in appearance 1 ■ifcdifl-good,- I would say, be- very doleful; :but it does not do any ; it only repels people -who'are disposed -".to accept things as they come. *So and so is dead'—who caused or •piermifcted hiß death 1 'God.' Then if you are^' content with 1 His government, and if you . believe that the' future world is better than

this, there is no/.cause for any melancholy about it, and the -same with every event. If we believe, we ought to show it, and to acknowledge openly that we agree to God's* governmant. I think that, taking- the two parties as a mas 3, the worldly-minded—so-called, remember, by their religious brethren—liva more pleasin'g.in the sight of God than the religions— so-called! remember, by their worldly brethren. There, are the true religious and the true worldly-minded, and my remark, does not apply ta them ; but we cannot sift the two.

At. a places called Mrooli when he wa3 much fatigued and overwrought with cares and exposure, we find Gordon writing : "To go back to my castles "in the air. During the winter I sball ask to let me have the Galatz fur. coat, and I meaa to go first class in the train?, and to lie in bed in 'the morning.. "With all thesje thoughts I do ■ not forget I may be cut off at any minute, arid do not fear it; only I have the human weakness, of thinking "what a trouble will have with all my accounts out here. . . . I shall refuse all invitations to aine out, and 1 (d.v.) rest awhile, and muse on my miseries, all past. ('Now soul, take thy rest'—that night ' his soul' wis taken ; but where to ?— to a much happier place than where he proposed to rest, and where he would want no barns.).. . . I. would that all had the fu!l asßurance of future life. It is precisely because we are despicable and worthless that ■' y,'e are accepted. Till we throw over the idea that we are bsttcr than others we can never have that assurance. We must give up-keeping credit lists with Go 3, which are not true ones ; they are all debtor lists. Do you know that versa, Eph. ii. 10, which says that ye * are ordained to bring forth good works 2 If certain good works are ordained to be brought forth by you why should yon dory in tbeai ? Do not flatter yourself that' you are wanted—that God could not work without you A it is ati honour ii He employs you. • No one is indispensable, either in this world's affairs or in spiritual work ; you are a machine, though allowed to feel, as if you had the power o£ astion. "When thiog3 turn out ia a way we do not wish to quarrel with God if we feel put'out. Mo3t difficult is this lesson, and only to be learnt by a continual thought of this world being a temporary one —i c., by continually thinking of death as a release. What a calm life a man living thus would live—what services he would render ! nothing would move him whether he were soldier, statesman, or what not." " I feel that I have a mission here. The men aad officers like my justice, candonr, even my outbursts of tempsr, and see that I am not a tyrant. Over two yeara ve have lived intimately together, and they watch me closely. I am glad that they do so. My wish and desire is that they should be as happy as it rests with me to make them, and though I feel' sura that I am unjust sometimes, it i 3 not the rule with me to 138 so. I care for their marches, for their wants and food and protcct their women and boy 3 if they ill-treat them ; but I do nothing of this—l am a chisel which cuts the wood ; the Carpenter directs it. If I lose my edge, He must sharpen me ; if He puts me aside and takes another, it is Hi 3 owo good will. None are indispensable to Him ; He will do His work with, a Btraw equally as well. The I's of the world are naught. How often do th-j Scriptures claim for Him all honour, power, and might; and yet all of U3 claim nonoar from our fellow-men 1"

Speaking of his vast province, he writes : "The two trials of this country aro the climate and the delays. You cannot realise the blessings yon enjoy in having occupation, and in the celerity with which thibg3 are done in England. These blessings are quite overlooked. Each one of you has, when you rise, something to do in the day ; here you have absolutely nothing ; aud this complete stagnation is liksd by ihe blick officers and soldiers. That'i3 the true trial of Europeans." " The future world must be much mora amusing, mo.-e enticing, more to be desired than thi3'world—putting it 3 absence of sorrow and sin. - The future world ha 3 been somehow painted to our mind as a placee or continuous praise aud though we may not say it-, yec oae canuot help feeling that, if thus, it would prove monotonous. It cannot be thus. ' It must be a life of activity, for happineSß is dependent oa activity ; death is cessation of movement; life i 3 all movement."

" You have no idea how " lushallah" (God willing) grows on one here. Things so generally go crooked, to our frail judgment, that I would defy a man to express himself as in Europe—'.l shall go to town to-morrow, and be back on Tuesday.' He would never say so in theso countries without the preface ; and if he did the hearer would say it for him."

Travelling between Mas3owah and Keren, in the Abyssinian mountains, among wild people and dog-faced baboons, when going to meet the General of King Johannes at Seatin, ho writp-3 :

"IE I succeed there, I go on to Khartoum, and thence, after a short stay, to Darfour, which is, they say, in revolt; but I do not altogether believe it. Nothing could exceed the kindness of all the Khedive's despatches. He has put Zeila, Berberah, and Harrar under me. ' Ask of me, and I will give thee to the half of my kingdom.' And now for the reverse of tho medal. It is the sacrifice of a living life. To give your life to be taken at once i 3 one thing ; to live a life such as is' before mo is another and more trying ordeal; I have 3et my face to the work, however, and will give my life to it. I feel as if I had naught to do with the Government. God must undertake the work, and l am for the moment used as His instrument. I am not one jot, or, I suppose I must say,' only very, very slighth' elated by the honours and power given me ; and this elation arises from a feeling of satisfaction that H.H. has conSdence in me. I think how many wonld be'weighed down by this immense chargc; bow they- would shrink from accepting it without some other help, for fear of their reputation. But for me, I never-gave the que«tion-a thought. I feel sure of success ; tor I do not lean on my own understanding, and He directs ray path. The events of the future are all written, and are mapped out in all their detail for each one of us. Tha Negro, the Arab, and the Bedouin's course—thair meetiog. with me, &c.j is decreed. How man can ciaim praise for anything ho doe 3 ! . . . These interminable deserts and arid mountains fill the heart with far different thoughts thau civilised lands would do. It was for this that the Israelites were'led through them.- You must not imagine the desert as a fiat, sandy country; tho features ot the. ground are what they are in other countries. There are scrabby trees and stubbly grasses, but no water, though there are watercourses. Water these lands, and they would blossom a3 the rose. I would infinitely sooner travel alone iu'these countries than with a companion. Of course I never can converse with the Arabs; so on one goes stalking along—tho camel's cushioned-foot makes no noise, and you learn yourself