THE PLOT DISCOVERED. AS TRUE AS IT IS WONDERFUL.

Now boys and girls, I am no spiritualist; I do not believe in table-turning, except when some one lays a very clever snare and falls into it, then the tables are turned on him; nor do I believe in table-rapping, except in the method your fathers may adopt, when you are making so much noise that they can’t hear themselves speak; then they may sometimes rap the table with advantage. Nor do I take much notice of dreams generally: of course, if folks will make hearty suppers of indigestible food, they must expect to fall off the church tower, or be pursued by a mad bull (especially if beef-steaks figured at supper), or come into contact with robbers, once or twice in the night. But if we are careful of ourselves, and if we are in good health we shall not be troubled with dreams much! the mind will be active when the body is still, but when we awake to the duties of the day, it finds scope enough there, and soon forgets its exercise in the night.

Nevertheless there are occasions when dreams are important, when they so vividly impress the mind as to lead to definite action from which important results follow.

I believe, occasionally, but very rarely perhaps, that some persons are “warned of God in a dream,” and I will give you an instance which has never yet been made public so far as I know, but for the truth of which I can vouch.

I have often heard the story from the mother of the master of the first boarding-school I was at.

She was too good a woman to deceive us, and besides, the circumstances happened to her own uncle, and were in this wise.

He was a minister in Cornwall, surrounded by wicked neighbours, who hated him because he so constantly reproved them by his voice and example. And so they determined to get rid of him. It was the time of the French war, and they had him arrested for supplying the enemy with gunpowder.

He was in gaol at Launceston, and on the night before the assizes, a gentleman at Stonehouse, in Devonshire, who knew nothing of these circumstances, dreamed that he must go to Launceston: he awoke his wife and told her, but she sensibly advised him to go to sleep again. He did so, but soon awoke, having again dreamed that he must go there. And on his informing his wife, she suggested his going to sleep again, saying that if there were anything in the dream, it would be repeated the third time.

He went to sleep again; and again did he awake with the impulse, stronger than ever, that he must go to Launceston.

While he was dressing, the thought occurred to him that he would not be able to catch his horse, which was in a field near the house. In broad daylight it was a matter of difficulty, and the animal was only captured by the sight of the corn measure, and the promise of some oats at the bottom, and not then until he had indulged in a canter or two round the field. You may imagine that the gentleman was much surprised to find his horse standing at the gate, waiting for him, as it were, and allowing himself to be saddled and bridled at once. On his master rode through Devonport, wondering to himself how at that time of night he should cross the Tamar that separates Devon from Cornwall. The ferry had stopped for hours; but as he was riding down to the water’s edge, he was shouted to by a man, “Come on, sir.” The voice came from the ferryman, who was waiting with his boat, and who asked the gentleman where his companions were. He replied he had none. “Oh, then,” said the man, “it must have been some drunken men who shouted to us—several of them—to bring over the ferry. But it appears we have not come on a wild-goose chase after all; so step in, sir.”

Once on the other side, there was no further difficulty in the way, so that the gentleman trotted on to Launceston full of the importance of his errand, but quite in the dark as to its purport. Nearing the town, he overtook numbers of people, and hearing they were on their way to the assizes, he decided on going there too.

Squeezing his way into court, he remained there for some little time an obscure and unobserved individual; but he was soon destined to play a very important part in a trial that had just begun. He was startled at hearing his own name called out loudly by the crier of the court, from which he knew he was required as a witness. He pushed forward into the witness-box, when a number of men standing near appeared much confused, and hurriedly left the court. On being sworn he was asked his name, residence, and business, and then the counsel said,—

“I believe on the —— (mentioning the date) you had a large order for gunpowder. Will you please to inform the court of the transaction.”

“I never had such an order, nor do I at all know to what these proceedings relate,” said the gentleman in an astonished manner.

“What!” said the judge, “do you mean to say you know nothing of the prisoner at the bar, nor of the crime with which he is charged.”

“Absolutely nothing, my lord,” was the reply.

“Then, why are you here?”

The gentleman then, in as few words as possible, related the circumstances with which you are already familiar, when it became apparent to all, that the prisoner had been the victim of a base and murderous plot.

Inquiries were made for those who had instigated the trial, but they were nowhere to be found. Doubtless they had arranged for some one to palm himself off as a gentleman of whom the powder was bought, but the arrival at the right moment of the real individual, frustrated all their deeply laid plans, and saved the life of an innocent and godly man.

There, now, boys and girls, there is my tale; it is strictly true, as I remember it told to me by the niece of the accused, except that, for the filling up of the story, I have not given the exact words used at the trial, as they have not been preserved, but a conversation similar to the one that took place, when the truth was elicited.

You may make what you like of it, but I shall always hold that the dream was no delusion, that the arrival in the court was not an accident, but that it was the last link in the chain of God’s providence with which He encompassed His faithful servant.

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