or, The End of the Carnival
A gay cavalcade they made — the handsome James, first of his name, of Scotland, his beautiful wife Joan, and their retinue, as they sped towards the Firth of Forth to hold the Christmas carnival in the large monastery at Perth.
Those were troublous times, when men loved fighting and bloodshed; but James and his companions were fearless and light-hearted as they that day approached the ferry.
Suddenly, from out the gathering darkness there appeared a strange and gaunt figure with uplifted hands. “Halt!” cried the foremost rider, “who goes there?”
As they drew near they found an aged highland woman standing full in their pathway.
Above the clamouring of the horsemen before, and the moaning of the waves behind, her shrill voice rang out, “Go back! go back!” In answer to their questions, she refused all explanation, save to the King himself. Thinking she had news of some conspiracy, he rode towards her, and, in answer to his enquiries, the old woman waved her hand towards the restless waves, and cried:
“King, if you once cross those waters you will never return alive.” The King laughed aloud at the warning turning it into a jest, and shaking the old woman’s hand from his bridle, cried, “Forward!”
It was not wisdom on the part of the King to laugh at the warning, for he knew that in his kingdom there were many who did not wish him well, and dangers were thick in his path. Undoubtedly it appeared to be a braver course to go forward to the revelries at Perth, rather than, filled with craven fears, to return to Edinburgh.
Whither are you bound, my reader, and what is your objective? Are you light-hearted and gay and do you mean to make merry, heedless of the dangers that gather round your way? We do not wish to see you morose and gloomy, but rather that true and eternal gladness may be yours. We must, however, sound a warning. To go forward on the road of careless pleasure, heedless of danger, is to land full soon in utter destruction.
And so they passed the ferry, and reached their destination. The old woman’s warning was forgotten, and King James was the merriest of a merry party. The days passed by until the last was reached, and that had drawn to its close, for the clock was about to strike the midnight hour.
The King had taken his harp, and, running his fingers across the strings, he started the last song, when there came a loud and peremptory knocking at the outer door.
The King paused in his song, greatly annoyed by the interruption and demanded to know who was there.
It proved to be the old woman of the ferry. She sought an audience with his majesty, for she had news of great importance, for his ear alone.
“To-morrow I will see her, but not to-night,” was the King’s answer to her entreaties.
So she was turned away, and driven forth into the night, wringing her hands as she went, and crying, “To-morrow I shall not see his face.”
The Queen trembled with fear at this strange incident, and the King, now far from at ease, himself closed the festivities, and the party broke up for the night.
“To-morrow!” Ah, how treacherous, how illusive is that word. It seems to dance before the eyes, and hold out bright prospects. But how often it has proved a will-o’-the-wisp, luring men to destruction. “To-morrow I will see her,” said the King, and that fateful word was the sealing of his doom.
Oh, reader! will you put off until to-morrow that which you can do today? Will you refuse to face the question of your soul’s great danger now?
Your sins and death and Satan all conspire to bring your soul to hell. Will you treat this grave question with indifference, and say “Tomorrow”?
To-day is the day on which to heed the warning, for to-day is God’s day of Salvation; but hope in a false to-morrow will be your eternal undoing, as it has been of thousands more.
The wild winds howled outside the monastery of the Black Friars of Perth, and strange forebodings filled the hearts of the King’s party within. The Queen’s chambermaids were preparing her sleeping couch, when one of them drew aside a curtain and looked forth into the black night. To the dismay of the company she announced the fact that the courtyard beneath was lurid with the flare of torches. Presently the clash of steel, and the shoutings of armed men, told only too truly that the assassins were upon the track of the King.
“Shut the bolts,” cried the startled monarch. But, alas! he found when it was too late that there had been traitors within as well as without; for the bolts had all been wrenched from the doors, and he was without protection.
One hour afterwards sixteen mortal wounds in the breast of the King spoke plainly of the folly of treating warnings with scorn and putting off the seeking of safety until “to-morrow.”
Will you not take warning then to-day, my hitherto heedless friend, and seek a place of safety?
I have more to tell you of King James and how he met his death but will you not perceive in your procrastination a folly like to his, and turn to Him who can save you from your woes.
Only the Saviour — Jesus, God’s beloved Son — can save you. He can, and will, if you turn to Him. Then sin and death and hell and Satan shall all be put to flight. Oh! turn to Him now, before your foes thrust you down to hell for ever.
Down to Earth But Heavenly Minded 
Leave a comment