BEREAVEMENTS.
Our last chapter left us rejoicing in success, but how soon did deepest
sorrow take its place. A dream seemed sent to prepare me for the severe
ordeal so near at hand. I thought I was standing in our front yard
looking eastward and an angel sitting on a bay horse appeared in the
place of the sun's rising, coming to earth on some mission, gliding
over the tree tops toward our house, where were father, mother, my
sister Phoebe, and my husband, who held in his arms our little babe. I
started to inform them that an angel was coming to earth on some
errand, when his advance was so rapid I was likely to lose sight of
him, and halted to watch his flight. He seemed to alight in our yard
near me, and smiled as he said, "Follow thou me." "I will," I
responded, as soon as I bid Charles and our folks farewell. The
beautiful personage assumed a firmer tone, as he said, "Let the dead
bury their dead, but follow thou me." At this command I responded, "I
will," and followed him to the graveyard, where he left me. And I awoke
with that angelic figure, with that sweet, yet solemn, voice ringing in
my ear.
I related the dream, with its clear impression in my mind, to my
husband, who replied, "That is a significant dream, and I think
indicates death. I think we shall be called to part with our infant
daughter Lavina; and it is quite evident that consumption is fast
hastening our sister Phoebe to her long home." She was my own sister,
who married my husband's brother, Daniel Haviland. He continued his
remarks, by making suggestions as to the course we would feel it best
to pursue about a burying-place for our little daughter, in case of a
refusal of Friends to allow a plain marble slab, with her name and date
of birth and death in their burying-ground; and suggested the corner of
our orchard as a pleasant place, to which I assented. After spending
half an hour in this conversation, he went out to his work. I prayed
for my Savior's hand to lead me in whatever trial it was necessary for
me to pass through.
Little did I think of the heavier stroke which was first to fall. A few
days after this dream I was charging myself with being visionary; yet a
few of these most impressive dreams, I believe, have been designed for
our instruction. My husband was seized with a heavy cold, accompanied
by a severe cough, that was increasing; yet he was able to be about the
house and barn, giving directions, as to outdoor work, but nothing
appeared alarming, when I was aroused by a startling dream of a coffin
being brought into our front room by four men, of whom I inquired who
was dead. The answer was, "A connection of yours." "I want to see him,
for that coffin appears to be for a small man," was my reply. "He is a
small man," was the rejoinder, "and you shall see him." Upon this, the
closed coffin was brought to me, and I arose and followed the
pall-bearers to the graveyard. As the people were standing around the
open grave to see the coffin lowered, I saw a little child standing on
the very edge of the grave opposite to me. I exclaimed, "Do take that
child away, for it will cave into the grave after its father!" At that
instant the light sand under its feet gave way, and, as it struck the
coffin, the loud, hollow sound awoke me, trembling as with a fit of
ague, and with the strong impression that I was soon to part with my
beloved companion and infant daughter, although both were sweetly
sleeping by my side. With this thrill through my whole being, I
resorted to prayer for their restoration to health, if consistent with
the divine will.
Although my husband had enjoyed good health a number of years, and had
not for seven years previously called upon a physician, yet I now
resolved to persuade him to call for one at once. As the clock struck
four, and as I was leaving the bed to light the fire, my husband awoke,
and said he had enjoyed the most refreshing sleep he had had since
taking this cold, and felt so well he thought he soon should be rid of
it. Whenever I spoke the chattering of my teeth revealed my agitation,
and he expressed fear lest I should be ill from the hard chill. But
little did he understand the upheavings of my troubled heart. Soon a
severe paroxysm of coughing gave the opportunity to suggest the idea of
sending for a physician. At length he consented, as he said, to please
me, as he thought this cough would soon give way. But while I went to
our boy's study room to awaken our son Harvey to go for the doctor, a
severe pain in the region of the lungs was cutting every breath.
The doctor was soon with us, but he thought there were no discouraging
symptoms apparent. I seat for Father Haviland, who also thought, as did
the doctor, that I was unreasonably troubled; but during the following
night he expressed doubts of recovery himself, and requested his will
to be written, which was done. As his fever increased, great effort was
made to control our feelings in his presence. At one time, as he awoke,
he discovered fast-falling tears, and said: "Do not weep for me, my
dear wife; remember those beautiful lines:
'God moves in mysterious way,
His wonders to perform.'
We are not to
'Judge the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face'
Our separation will be short at longest. Then we shall be reunited
where there is no sorrow--no more dying--in that glorious home. Two
days ago there seemed a little cloud; but prayer was answered, and the
cloud was all removed. The overshadowing now is that of peace and
love." He called for the children. Looking upon us all, he said, "O,
how dear you all are to me!" Calling each by name, he gave advice and
exhortations as none but a departing husband and father could leave
with his family--a legacy more precious than all the golden treasures
of earth. Then he added: "I want you, my dear children, to promise me
that you will meet your father in heaven. Will you meet me there?"
Taking our little babe in his hands, he kissed it and said, "Dear
little Lavina will soon be with her father," and closed with the
prayer: "O Lord, I commit my dear wife and children into thy bands.
Thou art the widow's God, and a loving Father to fatherless children."
The words of the dying Christian, beginning
"What's that steals, that steals upon my frame?
Is it death-is it death?"
were sung by his bedside, and as the last line,
"All is well-all is well,"
was reached, he raised his hands, and repeated, "O, hallelujah to the
Lamb!" Then, turning to me, he added, "My dear, I want these lines sung
at my funeral." His last words were, "Come, Lord Jesus, thy servant is
ready," and with a sweet smile his happy spirit was wafted home, March
13, 1845.
His disease was inflammatory erysipelas, at that time entirely new, and
not understood by our physicians. It passed through our portion of the
State, a sweeping epidemic, in the Spring of 1845, and proved fatal in
most cases. My dear mother, who was with us during this week of sorrow,
was taken home with the same disease, and in one week her happy spirit
took its flight to God who gave it. She, too, left us hi the triumphs
of faith. She had not left us an hour before brother Daniel came for me
to go to his dying wife, as she was calling for mother, and he did not
dare inform her that mother was dangerously ill. I took my little
emaciated babe upon a pillow, and went to my dear sister, who was so
soon to leave us. Her first query was, "How is our dear mother?"
"Mother is a happy spirit in heaven," was the reply, "and sister Phoebe
will soon meet her there."
Her reply was: "It is well; but I had hoped to meet her once more in
this world--yet we'll soon meet, to part no more forever. She soon
followed brother Charles; but I trust we will all meet one day, an
unbroken band. O how I wish I could see brother Ira!" an absent brother
for whom she had often expressed great anxiety in regard to his
spiritual and everlasting welfare.
The same burden of soul for the same brother had also rested on the
heart of our sainted mother, whose funeral took place two days later.
Within one week sister Phoebe died in peace. Here was the third wave of
sorrow rolling over us.
From this house of mourning I was removed to my home with the same
disease that had taken my husband and mother; and a number of our
neighbors Were going the same way. My father and father-in-law thought
me dangerously ill-chills and fever, with stricture of the lungs, that
made respiration painful. They were very anxious to have the best help
that could be obtained at once; "for," said father, "what is done for
thee must be done quickly" I told him that every one who had been taken
with this disease had died, as physicians of each school did not
understand it. But I would return to my home, as they suggested; but
felt most easy to trust myself with water treatment, and would like to
take a shower-bath every two hours, and try that treatment twelve
hours. This was done, and every bath brought relief to respiration, and
my lungs became entirely free, though my neck and throat were still
badly swollen and inflamed. Cold applications, frequently applied, soon
overcame that difficulty, and in three days the disease seemed entirely
conquered.
A relapse from taking cold, however, threw me into a stupor; but I was
aroused by an expression of a neighbor, as he said: "She is not
conscious, and never will be, unless something is done; and if she were
a sister of mine a doctor would be here as soon as I could bring him."
"I will see if I can get an expression from her," said my brother
Harvey.
"If we can only learn mother's wish it shall be granted," said my
anxious son Harvey.
As I heard their remarks a strong impression came over me that if I
were placed in charge of a physician I should not live two days, but if
I could tell them to shower my head and neck often I would recover. As
I looked upon my anxious fatherless children around my bed I made an
effort to speak, but my parched and swollen tongue could not for some
time utter a word. The answer to earnest prayer came from Him who
numbers even the very hairs of our head. As my brother took my hand,
saying, "If you wish a physician press my hand, or if you wish water
treatment move your head on the pillow," I could not move my head in
the least, and my only hope was to say no. When asked if I wished a
doctor sent for, I prayed that my tongue might utter words of direction
for the sake of my fatherless children, and said, "No."
"Do you want cold compresses, or shall we gently shower over a thin
cloth on the swollen and inflamed portion of your neck and head?"
"Shower."
"Cold or tepid?"
"Well."
"If you mean well-water, how much?"
"Big pitcher."
"How often?"
"Twenty minutes."
Said my son Harvey, "It shall be done, if I sit by her every minute
to-night."
I felt a positive impression that my Heavenly Father had answered my
prayer directly, and granted an assurance, in the token of recovery,
and I praised the Lord for his "loving kindness, O, how free." With
this assurance I fell back in a stupor, except a dreamy consciousness
of their showering, which was faithfully done, with the assistance of
my brother. At twelve o'clock I awoke, and inquired where all the
people were that filled the room a little while before, and was
surprised to learn the hour of night. They said, as my breathing became
more natural, the neighbors had left and the children retired.
I could speak easily, and the purple appearance of the skin had
disappeared. In the morning the pain was entirely gone, but the
soreness was still severe. But with frequent changes of compresses
during the day, the swelling very much subsided. I wondered why father
did not come, as he had not been to see me since sister Phoebe's
funeral. My brother informed me that he had a chill during the funeral,
and had not been able to leave. As he had a few fits of the ague some
weeks previously, I supposed it was a return of that disease. The day
following brother Sala came, and in reply to my inquiry after my
father, said he was no better, but sent me a request to be very careful
of myself, and hoped I would soon recover, and left in seeming haste to
see brother Patchin. But I sent for him to come and tell me more about
father. He soon came with brother Patchin and brother Dolbeare. He then
told me that father had the same disease that had taken my husband and
our mother, and he also said that it was father's request that for the
sake of my large family of children, who were recently bereft of their
father, that I would give up the idea of coming to see him.
But I could not be satisfied without going to see my dear father once
more, and yet, the pleading of my dear children was almost too much to
forego. "We have just lost our father; now what should we do if our
mother should be taken from us?" "But if I am rolled in quilts and laid
on a bed in the wagon, I am confident I can be taken to father's house
safely"--distant nearly three miles. In this way I was taken to my
dying father, though unable to walk across the room without assistance.
As soon as he learned of my coming, he directed them to lay me on the
bed until I was rested. In a few minutes he sent them to bring me to
him. As my son and brother led me to his bedside, he placed the cold
purple fingers over my pulse, and said, "I am so glad to see thee, but
I feared it would be too much for thee to bear. There is a little
feverish excitement about thee yet. I am more concerned for thee than
for the rest of my children, on account of thy large family, that will
so much need their mother's counsel and care. I want to say to thee,
Look up to the widow's God for guidance, for wisdom from him is so much
needed, with the heavy responsibilities now resting upon thee. Do not
allow these bereavements to crush thy feeble frame. I have feared they
had already seriously affected thy health. I know thy anxiety to bring
up thy children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. And he will
grant ability to lead them to the Lamb of God, who shed his precious
blood for us all." With other advice, he became weary, and said, "Now
take her back to the other room, and lay her on the bed until rested."
And during the few hours he lived he frequently sent for me to talk a
few minutes at a time, watching my pulse each time, until within a few
moments of the last farewell to earth.
There were six of his children present, to whom he gave his farewell
blessing, leaving a bright evidence that all was well with him. "In me
there is no merit. I am fully trusting in the merit of my crucified
Savior, who shed his own precious blood for my redemption. I can say
with Job, 'I know that my Redeemer lives,' and because he lives I shall
live also." His last words, almost with his last breath, were, "Here
she comes," and left this tabernacle for the building not made with
hands, eternal in the heavens. Father and mother were lovely in their
lives, and in their death were only two weeks divided. It seemed that
my last earthly prop was gone. Three weeks later my youngest child
followed her father and grandparents to the spirit home. Within six
weeks, five of my nearest and dearest ones were taken from me.
There was hardly a family within two miles of us but was bereft of one
or two loved ones by this epidemic. Five widows (myself included) at
one time were standing around the death-bed of a near neighbor. Our
female principal at that time, Emily Galpin, was taken with this
epidemic, and died after three days' illness. A few hours previous to
her death she requested a season of prayer, in which her husband, Rev.
Charles Galpin, led. Her prospect was bright, and, clearly foreseeing
the ransomed throng she was soon to join, said she, "Oh! how vain, how
transitory, does all earthly treasure appear at this hour--a mere
bubble upon the water." About a half an hour before she left us, she
said, "Hark! don't you hear that beautiful music? Oh! what music; I
never heard anything like it! Don't you hear it?" "No, we do not hear
it." Being in an ecstasy, she exclaimed, "Look at that heavenly choir.
Don't you see them? Don't you hear that sweetest of all music?" "We do
not see them nor hear them." "There--they have left." A few minutes
before her happy spirit took its flight, she again looked up very
earnestly. "There they are again. Oh, how sweet! how beautiful!" And
taking leave of her husband and two children, sister and
brother-in-law, and of all present, committing her dear ones to the
keeping of the Lord Jesus, with the request that the two lines,
"Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in thee,"
be placed upon the marble slab to mark her resting place, she fell
asleep in Jesus.
Such fatality never before, nor since, visited Raisin as is 1845. In
those days of sorrow commingled with the rest of faith, that brought
peace and joy even in affliction, my only reliance was the widow's God,
for wisdom I so much needed in the double responsibilities now resting
upon me.
After the death of my sweet babe, twenty-two months of age, and my
restoration to health, I looked over amounts of indebtedness with dates
when due. I made an estimate of costs of harvesting and marketing the
twenty acres of wheat and other grains, and what must be retained for
family use; and found I would be able to reach only about half the
amount due the following Autumn. I called on all our creditors within
reach to inform them of probabilities, unless I could find sale for a
portion of the stock. But none of the creditors wanted any of it. Said
one, to whom the largest amount was due, "You do not think of taking
your husband's business and carrying it forward, do you?" I replied, "I
thought of trying to do the best I could with it." With a look of
surprise, he said firmly, "You are very much mistaken, Mrs. Haviland;
you can not do any such thing; you had much better appoint some man in
whom you have confidence to transact your business for you." I informed
him I had seven minor children left me, and I found seven hundred
dollars of indebtedness, and it would cost money to hire an agent Then,
I ought to know just where I stand, to enable me to look closely to
expenditures. "Well, you can try it, but you'll find your mistake
before six months have passed, and you'll see you had better have taken
my advice." I knew I was not accustomed to business of this sort. All
the other creditors whom I had seen spoke very kindly. Although these
words were not unkindly spoken, yet they were saddening to my already
sad heart.
I was too timid to go to the probate judge with any sort of ease for
instruction. In looking around me for some female friend to accompany
me, I could find but very few who were not undergoing like trials with
myself, consequently I must submit to these new experiences, as
whatever was right for me to do was proper. I depended upon an all wise
guiding Hand, who is ever ready to reach it forth to the trusting
child. I wrote to one, a few miles distant, to whom was due eighty
dollars the ensuing Fall, that forty dollars would be all I should be
able to meet. He called in a few days, and introduced himself saying
that he had received a statement from me that I could only pay him the
coming Fall fifty per cent on the eighty-dollar note he held against my
husband. Said he, in a hurried manner, "I called to let you know that I
_must have it all_ when it is due, as I have a payment to make on my
farm at that time, and I have depended on that" I told him I would
gladly pay him every penny of it the coming Fall, but it would be
impossible, as there were other demands equally pressing. "Very well,
that is all I have to say, madam; I can not accept any such
arrangement; I shall put in a way to bring it. Good-by."
He left in haste for me to ponder all these things over, in doubts as
to my ability to meet all these rough places of outside life. Perhaps I
had better leave this business with some man to deal with men. But
prayer to the widow's God and comforting promises were my companions.
Here was my only refuge and shelter in these storms. As I retired with
a burdened heart, that I was endeavoring to cast at the feet of my
Savior, the widow's burden-bearer, I had a sweet dream of an angelic
host, that filled my room with a halo of glory, settled on every face,
and those nearest my bed appeared in the form of persons dressed in
beautiful attire; others were sweet faces that looked upon me with
smiles of peace. As one took my hand, a familiar feeling sprang up,
that gave me confidence to ask for the name. "My name is Supporter."
And looking at the one standing near, "And what is his name?" "That is
a woman, and her name is Influencer-of-hearts." Pointing to another
still more glorious in appearance, "And who is that one?" "That is
Searcher-of-hearts." "Then you all bear the name of your missions to
earth, do you?" "We do," replied Supporter. As I looked over this host
that filled my room I burst into a flood of tears for joy. I exclaimed,
"Oh! what missions are yours! so many wayward hearts to influence, so
much of sin and wickedness that reigns in this world to search out." At
this said Searcher of hearts, "Support her, for she needs it" "I do,"
and he reached for my other hand, and as both of my hands were held by
Supporter, I realized a wave of strength to pass over me, filling my
soul. I awoke in an ecstacy. Yea, I will cast my care on Jesus and not
forget to pray. Calm and sweet was this confidence in being cared for,
and supported by an almighty arm.
A few days after I saw the exacting man coming through my gate, which,
for a moment, caused a dread; but the second thought was, _all,_ all is
with my Savior. I met him with the usual greeting, and said, "You have
called to see about that claim you have against me." "Yes, I have
called to inform you that I shall not want any thing from you next
Fall, and perhaps shall not want more than half next year, as I have
received one hundred dollars that I had supposed was lost, and as I was
coming within two miles I thought I would call and let you know of my
conclusion." While I thanked him for the favor, secret praise ascended
to Him who melts away the mountain that seems impassable, making a way
where there seemed no way.
This may seem a small matter, but for me at that time it was a reason
for rejoicing at this unexpected turn of affairs. It was but one of
many similar cases, and none can more fully realize the blessing of
these reliefs than the widow of nearly two-score years, who never
previous to widowhood knew the burden of outside work in providing for
a large family, which was now added to continued care of the Raisin
Institute. Many night plans, for day execution, were made. I soon found
sale for forty acres of the one hundred and sixty, which relieved me of
the most pressing demands.
At times responsibilities were so great, and burdens so crushing, that
I was almost ready to falter. My greatest anxiety was to guide my dear
children aright. The four older ones had resolved to follow the dear
Redeemer, but the slippery paths of youth were theirs to walk in. The
consideration of these multiform cares at one time seemed of crushing
weight. I questioned whether the burden I had so often left at the foot
of the cross I had not taken up again, and whether I had as fully
consecrated self, with my dear children, to the Lord as he required. I
was endeavoring fully to yield _all_ into my Redeemer's hands for
safe-keeping. This was my constant prayer, yet this heavy burden during
a few days seemed unfitting me for the every-day duties devolving upon
me. In family devotion I opened to the fifty-fourth chapter of Isaiah,
where I found precious promises that I accepted for my own, and the
heavy burden for my children was uplifted. Never did I experience
greater liberty in prayer, or exercise a stronger faith. Surely the
silver lining to this cloud appears. "All thy children shall be taught
of the Lord" were precious words. I was afflicted and tossed with
tempest, but a sweet promise followed. All the way through that chapter
the Comforter appeared with rich promises. With these before me I could
freely leave all my burden with the Lord. I saw by the eye of faith all
my seven children made acquainted with their Creator in the days of
their youth. Although I never ceased asking, yet there has seemed an
accompanying assurance. When from ten to sixteen years of age, my seven
children yielded by living experience to the Savior's loving
invitation, "Come unto me," that hour and day was victorious through
faith. That weight of burden never again returned! The entire yielding
all into the care and keeping power of Him who doeth all things well,
at that hour was complete. I could say, "He leadeth me," without a
shadow of doubt.
As fugitive-slaves were still making their resting-place with us, I
hired one of them, named George Taylor, a few months through hay-making
and harvest. He had made his escape from a Southern master who was
about to sell him farther south. Once before he had made an
unsuccessful attempt at freedom, but was captured and placed in irons,
until they made deep sores around his ankles. As he appeared very
submissive, the sorest ankle was relieved. Being so badly crippled, he
was thought safe. But supplying himself with asafetida, which he
occasionally rubbed over the soles of his shoes, to elude the scent of
bloodhounds, he again followed the north star, and finally reached our
home. His ankles were still unhealed. He had succeeded in breaking the
iron with a stone, during the first and second days of his hiding in
the woods. He was an honest Christian man of the Baptist persuasion.
MARRIAGE OF TWO CHILDREN.
On June 6, 1846, my oldest son, Harvey S., was married to Huldah West,
of Adrian, and my oldest daughter, Esther M., was at the same hour
married to Almon Camburn, of Franklin, both of our own county. The
mother's earnest prayer was, that these children might prove each
other's burden-sharers, thereby doubling the joys, as well as dividing
the sorrows, of life. My daughter's husband was one of our students,
and in some of her studies a classmate.
We were fortunate in again securing brother Patchin to finish the
academic year in our institution. Though the cloud looked dark that
overhung our institution, by the sudden deaths of my husband, and
sister Emily Galpin, which caused her bereaved husband to leave as soon
as his place could be filled by a successor, we had the consciousness
that our school was taking a deep hold on the minds of the community at
large, as well as exercising a marked influence upon the young people
who were enjoying its privileges. We found an increasing interest in
abolition principles throughout our community. In this we praised God
and took courage.