Entering the lower room, I found Mr. Munroe, who had been requested by the Doctor to call. I was much interested in the account given by Mrs. Lewis to her pastor; and which she narrated in language above her station. I have often noticed that persons in humble life when speaking upon religious topics, are elevated by their theme, and by their familiarity with the language of scripture.
Mr. Lewis was born of pious parents who early dedicated him to God, and sought prayerfully to educate him in the fear of his Maker. He had lived a perfectly moral and peaceful life, having been able to support his family at least in comfort, until laid low by disease. When he was unable longer to work, they had moved to Crawford, as a place where his wife could find employment for her needle.
They had three children, the girl and boy I mentioned, and one between the ages of these two, who was at school. Mrs. Lewis felt that her husband was a Christian, and had been, for many years. But he was of an eminently timid spirit, distrustful of himself, and as he could not tell the exact time of his conversion, not having been exercised in mind like his wife, and many others whose experience he had heard or read, he had been unwilling to make a public profession of religion. He had, however, been in the daily habit of secret prayer, and of reading the scriptures; had taught his children faithfully, not only the practical duties of religion, but had endeavored to instil into their young minds the sacred doctrines of the gospel, as he had been taught them by his parents.
During the visit of the Doctor on Tuesday, the patient had given evidence of a saving change; and he had urged the sick man to give glory to God, and to hope in his mercy. This view of his case led the poor man to a train of reflection, which ended in the calm but complete trust he put in his Heavenly Father.
He had none of the rapture with which Caroline was sometimes borne as on angel wings, to heaven; but there were reasons to hope he was as truly a monument of grace. At the Doctor's last call, he had humbly but earnestly expressed a desire to unite himself to the people of God, and to taste, at least, once on earth, of that feast of which our risen Lord has said, "Do this in remembrance of me."
The Doctor had requested our pastor to call and converse with him upon this subject. I expressed my fear that the invalid was too much fatigued; but Mr. Munroe said he should be very brief.
I waited below for about ten minutes, when Mrs. Lewis invited me to go up and join them in prayer. The regular season for the administration of the ordinance here will be the first Sabbath in July, but as Mr. Lewis will not probably live so long, it was concluded to have the service privately administered to him next Sabbath afternoon. Mrs. Lewis invited me to be present with the Doctor, which I promised to do, and left accompanied by Mr. Munroe, whose house lay in the same direction.
Mrs. Munroe has been absent ever since my arrival in Crawford, on a visit to her father's. I told her husband, I anticipated much pleasure in her acquaintance.
He says, he is under great obligation to the Doctor, for informing him of such cases as the one we had just witnessed. He is still so much of a stranger in the place, he has not found out who are the members of his parish. He enlarged particularly upon the great aid it was to a clergyman, as well as upon the great advantage it was to the town, to have a pious physician. He said it was often the case when physicians were otherwise, that they were unwilling to have a pastor visit their patients, vainly imagining that they might frighten and injure them. Here he said, he everywhere met with evidence of the Doctor's faithfulness to the souls as well as to the bodies of those to whom he was called.
This exactly accords with my own observation. I thank God that he has made my dear Frank an instrument of good.
As we were approaching Mr. Munroe's house, he said, "I have been much surprised to hear that our neighbor Mr. Benson intends to leave his people, and to go to Europe. He said nothing to me upon the subject," he added, "when I met him on Sabbath morning. I should have supposed that he would have wished to spend the last Sabbath among his own people. There is some mystery about it."
I made no reply; and after a pause, he inquired "Is he out of health?"
"He certainly appeared so the day he preached," I replied. I did my best to appear unembarrassed, but cannot say that I entirely succeeded. He looked intently at me for a moment, but said no more.
When I left him, he added, he should not be surprised if Mr. Lewis did not live until the Sabbath, but he thought him prepared to die.
CHAPTER VII.
"Give him not all his desire, so shalt thou strengthen him in hope;
Neither stop with indulgence the fountain of his tears, so shall he fear thy firmness.
Above all things, graft on him subjection, yea in the veriest trifle." Tupper.
Friday Evening, June 19th.
Emily continues convalescent, and her eye begins to have its former lustre. She has sat in the chair nearly all the afternoon, while mother and I were sewing and Pauline played with her toys upon the floor. I am more than ever convinced that Emily's sickness is connected with her mental trouble.
I am likely to have full employment for my needle. Little girls need so many changes, and Miss Pauline had none, on her arrival, however large her wardrobe may have originally been. Mother wishes to assist me; but I declined her kind offer.
Poor little Pauline! she had a hard time this morning, and so did her mamma. We had quite a controversy; but I will explain. Cæsar was going to market in the village; and I told him if he would take the carriage, I would ride with him, as I wished to make a few purchases.
It is very warm; and I did not think it best for Pauline to accompany me, as she had generally done of late. She thought this very hard, and began to cry. I stepped back, and said, "Aunty sick; Pauline mustn't cry," when she fairly screamed, and showed a very naughty temper. I saw there was to be a contest; and I told Cæsar not to wait. "I must postpone my ride until another time." Then taking her in my arms I carried her to a room the farthest removed from Emily's, and laying off my bonnet, attempted to take her into my lap.
But no, she would not come to me. She ran across the room and threw herself down on the floor, kicking and screaming. I was astonished, and did not know what to do. I was afraid if she cried so, she would make herself sick; at the same time I knew that she ought to be made to obey. It was in my heart to take her up and coax her to be good; but this I knew would injure her, and destroy my authority. In a low firm voice I said, "Get up, Pauline, and come to mamma." She only kicked the more, and screamed the louder. I had not supposed the child had half the strength of limb or lungs. This was her first exhibition of temper. Till now she had been uniformly yielding and mild, though to be sure, as Frank says, this was the first time her wishes were ever crossed.
I never was so perplexed; and if Frank had been in the house I should have left her with him, and ran off where I couldn't hear her scream. I kept repeating my commands; but she paid no attention, though I spoke as gently and caressingly as I could, and asked her to be mamma's dear little girl. She would stop screaming a moment and look at me; and when I thought she was going to yield, she would begin afresh.
I tried to think she did not understand me, and was thankful for any excuse for her. But in this I soon found I was mistaken; for I told her to pick up a block and put it in the chair. This she did readily; then when I told her to come to me, she lay down and began to kick and scream with all her might.
I left her on the floor, and calling mother out of Emily's room, told her in a whisper my trouble, and asked her