Many friends that traveled with me
Reached Heaven's portal long ago;
One by one they left me battling
With the dark and crafty foe.
They are watching at the portal,
They are waiting at the door;
Waiting only for my coming--
The beloved ones gone before.
--[Mrs. H. M. Reasoner.
The first time I returned to the dear heavenly home after my long delay
on earth, as I approached the entrance, in the company of my brother
Frank, we saw a tall young man standing close by the open gate, looking
wistfully the way we came. As we drew near, he said in an almost
pathetic voice:
"Is my mother coming?"
A closer scrutiny revealed his identity, and I exclaimed with joy,
extending both hands to him, "My dear Carroll!"
He smiled a bright welcome as he extended his hands, but said
wistfully, "I so hoped my mother would return with you, aunt, when you
came back. Did you see her?"
"Once only, for a brief moment. She is very happy and bears her years
well. She will come to you now before long, but then you know it will
be forever."
"Yes, I know," he answered brightly. "I will be patient. But," he
added confidentially, "I so want her to see the lovely home I myself am
building for her. Will you come and see it?"
"Of course I will, gladly."
"Now?"
"Yes, if I may"; looking at my brother for his sanction.
He nodded his head pleasantly as he said: "That is right, Carroll.
Have her help you in every way you can. I will leave you two together,
and you will bring her to me later?"
"Indeed, yes," said my nephew; and we went away happily together.
"Where is this wonderful house, Carroll?"
"Not very far beyond Mrs. Wickham's," he said.
We soon reached it, and I was truly charmed with it in every way. It
was fashioned much like my brother Nell's home, and was, like it, built
of polished woods. It was only partly finished, and was most
artistically done. Although uncompleted, I was struck with the fact
that everything was perfect so far as finished. There was no debris
anywhere; no chips, no shavings, no dust. The wood seemed to have been
perfectly prepared elsewhere--where, I have no idea. The pieces were
made to fit accurately, like the parts of a great puzzle. It required
much skill and artistic taste to properly adjust each to its place.
This, my nephew, who even in the earthly life was quite a mechanical
genius, seemed to have no difficulty in doing, and the house was slowly
growing into beauty and symmetry. After showing me all over the house,
he at last drew aside the hangings before an entrance, beyond which
were two rooms, not only entirely finished, but beautifully furnished
as well.
"I finished and furnished these rooms complete, so that if mother came
before the house was ready, she could occupy them at once. You know
there is no noise from workmen here; no hammering, no unwelcome sounds."
I thought at once of the Temple of Jerusalem, where, during its
erection, there was "neither hammer, nor axe, nor any tool of iron
heard in the house."
"It is very beautiful, my dear boy," I said enthusiastically. "It will
give her great joy to know you did it for her. But what is this--a
fireplace?" pausing before a lovely open chimney, wherein wood was
piled ready to be lighted. "Is it ever cold enough here for fires?"
"It is never cold," he answered, "but the fire here never sends out
unneeded warmth. We have its cheer and beauty and glow, without any of
its discomforts. You remember my mother loves to sit by an open fire;
so I have arranged this for her."
"It is charming! But you did not make the stained-glass windows also?"
"No, I have a friend who has been taught that art, and we exchange
work. He helps me with the windows, and I in turn help him with his
fine woodwork and inlaying. I am going to make a 'flower room' for my
mother similar to yours, only of lilies and violets, which will retain
their perfume always."
"How lovely! I want to thank you, dear Carroll, for your share in our
'flower room.' It is the most exquisite work I ever saw; and it is
doubly so when I remember whose hands fashioned it."
"It was a labor of love with us all," he said simply.
"That is what enhances its beauty for me," I said. "But sit here by me
now, and tell me about yourself. Do you spend all your time at this
delightful work?"
"Oh, no, indeed! Perhaps what we used to call two or three hours
daily. Much of my time is still spent with my Grandfather R----. I do
not know what I should have done when I first came here, but for him.
I was so ignorant about this life, and came so suddenly."
"Yes, dear boy, I know," I said sympathetically.
"He met me at the very entrance, and took me at once home, where he and
grandma did everything possible to instruct and help me. But I was, I
am still, far below what I ought to be. I would give a year out of
this blessed life--I would even go back to the old life for an entire
year--if I only could go to my old friends, or better, into every
Sunday-school in the world, and beseech the girls and boys to try to
understand and profit by the instruction there received. Why, I used
to go to Sunday-school, Sunday after Sunday, help sing the hymns, and
read the lesson, and listen to all that was said; and I really enjoyed
every moment of the time. Sometimes I would feel a great longing after
a better life, but there seemed to be no one to especially guide or
help me, and, the greater part of the time, what I heard one Sunday was
never once spoken of or even thought of till another Sunday came, so
that the impression made was very transient. Why do not boys and girls
talk more together about what they hear at Sunday-school? We were all
ready enough to talk about a show of any kind, after it was over, but
seldom of the Sunday-school, when together socially. Why do not
teachers take more interest in the daily lives of their scholars? Why
is there so little really helpful talk in ordinary home life? Oh, I
wish I could go back and tell them this!"
His face beamed with enthusiasm as he talked, and I, too, wished it
might be possible for him to do as he desired. But alas! "they will
not be persuaded even if one arise from the dead," I thought.
"It is now time for me to go with my grandfather," he said, rising,
"but we will walk together as far as your home; and you will let me
often see you, will you not?"
"Gladly," I answered, as we set forth.
We still conversed of many things, as we walked, and when we parted at
the door I said, "I am soon to learn how to weave lovely draperies;
then I can help you, when you are ready for them."
"That will make my work more delightful still," was his reply, as he
hastened on in the direction of my father's home.