THE HAPPY HOME.

IV.

THE GUN OR THE GOSPEL.

Nor long ago we went to look at Waterloo-and Waterloo looked at us. Like most of the storied places which we have chanced to visit, he seemed to remember all about himself, and told us a deeper tale than the old serjeant who acted as our guide and his interpreter. We found him nearly recovered from the rough usage of the famous conflict. His right arm, the scorched and battered Hougomont, he still carries in a sling; and a huge excrescence has grown up where the shots fell thickest; whilst solemn monuments are the scars which cover many a casualty. On the whole, however, the veteran wore a placid aspect. Ilis crops were in good condition, and he had lately taken to the bleaching trade; and though one of our party was hunting a rare butterfly on the very Mount

of the Belgic Lion, he did not resent the levity. Even Waterloo, though pensively, appeared to share the spirit of the age, and gave his vote for Traffic, Peace, and Progress.

And since that day in quiet hours the old BattleField will often come to us and talk to us. And, reader, we shall confide to thee some lessons which the grey warrior has whispered in our inward ear.

Sometimes he says, "Be thankful. It was no common fight. It was not a play of arms. It was not the old tournay betwixt France and England, with a little glory for the prize. But it was an Armageddon. It was a battle betwixt freedom and brute force, betwixt the soul of man and military despotism. And a battle of most anxious issue. In men and guns the oppressor was much the strongest. His troops spoke one language, were moved by one intelligence, and, familiar with victory, they were this time flushed with vindictive fury. The allies came from all countries. As he marched beneath the beech trees of Soignies, or rose from his rainy bivouac that morning, many a soldier felt for the first time that he was about to stand front to front with death; and even the bravest were taken aback by the enemy's rapid arrival. And had some little move been different; had not heavier metal been introduced into the British artillery; had the Belgian panic spread; had the frail defences of Hougomont yielded; had Napoleon not wavered at a critical conjuncture; had the English Guards failed to

repel the charge of his veterans, or had the Prussians been a little later in coming, the story of the world might have bounded back a hundred years, and, like another Sisyphus, weary Europe would have been constrained to moil up-hill once more the stone which bluff Harry and Grand Louis had twice before rolled down. But the Lord on high controlled it all. He gave the timely valour. He brought the seasonable succour. He prompted the previous plans, and crowned them with prosperity. He toned the nerves on which freedom hung, and when a few miles and a single day were all that intervened betwixt Europe and an age of steel, He smote the spoiler, and gave the nations what they never knew before-a generation of peace and improvement-an era of busy enterprise and bloodless industry-an age of intelligence, and liberty, and lofty aspirations."

Sometimes, in accents more subdued, our oracle will say, "Be thankful, for war is fearful work. You are a youngster, and have forgotten it, and it is easy for you to sit under your fig-tree, and read it in Alison or Siborne ; but you can never realize it. That morning, the people at home rose from pleasant slumber, and little knew what thousands over-night could boast no better bed than the flooded fields of Mont St. Jean. And when the village-bells were sprinkling Sabbath music over all the land, and the psalm of praise pealed high, they did not hear the death-shots rattle, and the murdering cannons roar. And when Sunday schools

were met, and family groups repeated hymns, and read the Word of God together, they were not startled by the noise as bombs exploded and frantic squadrons swooped at one another in trampling thunder. And when Highland cottagers knelt down for evening worship, and London streets were brightly filled from closing sanctuaries, none knew that their fathers and brothers strewed the turf where the tide of battle had receded, and left behind its wreck of "surging agony. Distance of place made people unconscious, and therefore callous then; distance of time 'makes you almost as unconscious and as callous now. But, trust me, war is ghastly work, and I never shall forget that night of horrors. I cannot forget the shudder of mother-earth as her dying children tossed upon her bosom, and how timidly from among the clouds the moon peeped forth on miles of slain. I cannot forget moans and blasphemies and prayers. I cannot forget how the stalwart grenadier would spurn the sod, and grasp the clay in his terrible death-struggle; and how softly the warm blood flowed through the broidered vest of the gallant youth, till England and his sisters stood before his eyes, and melted into his swooning sleep.*

* Those who would like to know how it fares with the wounded soldier on the field of battle, may read the narrative of Colonel Ponsonby as given in Gleig's Story of Waterloo. It is too long for transcription here; but Mr. Gilbert has told most of it in the sketch which precedes this paper.

And, sooth to say, broad-cast with orphanage and widowhood, as that evening left my acres, it was long before I felt the pride of glorious victory."

But lately our mystic visitor came to us in more cheerful mood. It was a Sabbath morning and the 18th of June in the bygone summer; and along with the dim light the wraith of Waterloo stole into our chamber. "I wish you joy," said the vision; "a new thing in the earth! Europe completes this day a generation of repose! Britain has kept peace for hree-and-thirty years! To you and your coevals the lines have fallen in pleasant places; and for your lot in this wealthiest and happiest of all times, you cannot thank enough the Prince of Peace. Diluted and indirect, there is a gospel in this age; and if you can get the ear of any of your countrymen, go and tell them the blessings of this long tranquillity. And go and tell them about that gospel, which, did the world embrace, it would never need another Waterloo."

Fain would we tell them; but in a short paper like this, we have only room for hints.

1. One most obvious advantage of peace, is the occupation which it gives to industry. In time of war, markets are shut, and seas are dangerous. Looking on Britain as one huge factory-a factory which is willing to spin and weave for all the world, it is plain that a declaration of hostilities is the same thing as