The Colonel’s Word will Stand -By Colonel Hardress

During my military service in India, in those stirring times of mutiny and murder, I had in my regiment a little bugler. I had often noticed him as being too fragile and delicate for the life he had to lead; but he was born in the regiment, and we were bound to make the best of him. His father, as brave a man as ever lived, had been killed in action; his mother, broken-hearted, had just drooped, and died six months after.

About two years later, when Willie Holt was fourteen, the regiment was bivouacking some miles from the camp. Before we had been out a fortnight several acts of insubordination had been brought to my notice, and I had pledged to make an example of the very next offense by having the culprit flogged. One night the targets were thrown down and otherwise mutilated. On investigation, the rascally act was traced to the men in the very tent were Willie Holt was billeted, two of them being the worst characters in the regiment. The whole lot were instantly put under arrest, and tried by court martial, when enough evidence was produced that one of the prisoners was guilty of the crime. None would own up to being the guilty one and at last I spoke: “If any one of you who slept in No.4 tent last night will come forward and take his punishment like a man, the rest will get off free; but if not, there remains no other alternative but to punish you all – each man in turn to receive ten strokes of the cat.

For the space of a couple of minutes, dead silence followed then, from the midst of the prisoners, where his slight form had been almost hidden, Willie Holt came forward. He advanced to within a couple of yards from where I sat; his face was pale, a fixed intensity of purpose stamped on every line of it, and his steadfast eyes met mine. “Colonel,” said he, “you have passed your word that if any one of those who slept in No. 4 tent last night comes forward to take the punishment the rest shall get off Scot-free. I am ready, sir; and May I take it now?

For a moment I was speechless, so utterly was I taken by surprise; then, in a fury of anger and disgust, I turned upon the prisoners. “Is there no man among you worthy of the name? Are you all cowards enough to let this lad suffer for your wrong acts? For that he is guiltless you must know as well as I.” But sullen and silent they stood.

Then I turned to the boy, whose patient, pleading eyes were fixed on my face, and never in all my life have I found myself so painfully situated. I knew my word must stand, and the lad knew it, too, as he repeated once more, “I am ready, sir.” Sick at heart, I gave the order, and he was led away for punishment.

Bravely he stood, with back bared, as one- two-three- strokes descended. At the fourth, a faint moan escaped his white lips, and ere the fifth fell a hoarse cry burst from the group of prisoners who had been forced to witness the scene, and

The Little Highland Hero

In the north of Scotland, where the main railway line crosses a great ravine or gully - a fearful looking abyss - the viaduct that bridged it was one of the wonders of the north. One night a fearful storm raged over that district. The Little stream or burn that meandered under the verdict was turned into a raging mad torrent.

A young Highland shepherd laddie sheltered his sheep as best he could for the night. In the morning, long before dawn, he set out to see how they had fared. As he made his way up to the hillside, he noticed to his horror that the central column had gone, and that the bridge was broken. He knew that the mail train was due, and that if not warned, she would be dashed to pieces and many lives lost. He looked at the raging torrent. He wondered if he could get across. The thought of the danger of so many urged him on. He plunged in, and made his way to the other side. He was battered and sore, and breathless and bleeding when he got to the other side. He made his way up as best he could, wondering if he could be in time. As soon as he reached the rails he heard the “pound, pound” of the mighty engine.

Steve Jobs Finally Arrives His Long Home

Life Indeed is a Journey that will always end someday with or without the journeyer notice and so was it for the man being mourned today by the world for his advancement and contribution to technology and innovations.

Steve Jobs started his journey from earth on February 24, 1955, and as a Child growing up, He didn't have much of the privileges some other children had, he was up for adoption and was adopted by Paul and Clara Jobs who raised him up, He was a college dropout and went through some rough times before co founding Apple Inc. On August 24, 2011, Jobs announced his resignation from his role as Apple's CEO as a result of His Health problems since 2004 haven been suffering from cancerous tumor in his pancreas. On October 5, 2011, Apple announced that Jobs had died. He was 56 years old. And so was His Journey from earth ended at such a little space of time that just seem like a shadow. Goodbye Steve Jobs.

Being A Buddhist for several years who knows if he eventually found the True Way to eternal Life while on His Journey from earth, Who knows if he made peace with GOD before his death, who knows if he met the LORD JESUS CHRIST (The Way) on his way through this journey. And who knows where he has ended up eternally. Closing his eyes here on earth to open it again in his long home who knows if it is in Heaven or in hell.

Dear Friend, Like Steve Jobs with all his wealth and knowledge your own Journey from Earth would end sooner or later. and when that is done where would be your Long Home? where will you spend your eternity. will it be Heaven or Hell. Think Twice about Your Life On Earth as each tick of the clock draws you closer to the D Day.

Do You know the Way? if Not You can find it By Clicking Here
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GOD Bless.