My Dear Grandchildren:
With a return of comparative good health, "grandma" is again
enabled to resume her duties as housekeeper, and is daily seen, with
"grandpa," presiding at their family board. Our sisters and brothers,
with two young men from "the store," (who, from motives of economy,
board with us), and our little daughter, who sits to the left of her
father, in her baby dining-chair, constitute the family. How cheerful
the scene, after months of sickness and anxiety! "Grandpa," at least,
is radiant with happiness and good-humor. No unpleasant word or look is
seen or heard during our family repast. Perhaps an awkward boy upsets
his cup of coffee, but the quaint remark, "accidents will happen in the
best regulated families," spoken with a native courtesy, rarely seen,
restores his equilibrium; and thus peacefully, (in the main), day after
day passes along, although many little perplexities and cares arise,
such as every family are subject to, especially where there are sons
just entering the dangerous and tempting paths of youth.
In my particular duties and unavoidable anxieties I had a warm
and sympathizing friend, and a good counsellor, in the person of my
precious husband. But I felt that I needed more than this to sustain me
in the cares, and trials, and sorrows of life. And, besides, I carried
about with me a troubled conscience. For, at the commencement of my
illness, in the fall of 1832, I was perfectly aware of the approach of
danger, and, as I took a look from this world into Eternity, all was
dark and void, and the thought of having to meet death thus alarmed me.
While a raging fever was fast making me wild, I drew the sheet up over
my face, and said, "Let me be quiet." All was stilled, no sound being
heard, save an occasional whisper from some loved one, (who was too
anxious to be mute), and my own quick breathing, while my heart was
struggling for communion with God. Vague as were my ideas of that
glorious Being, I prayed that He might spare my life, promising, most
solemnly, that if He should do so, I would, upon my recovery, turn my
attention to the consideration of Divine Truth; that I would search the
Scriptures, to know what they taught, and, should I be assured that the
Bible contained a revelation from Heaven, I would, in the future,
govern my life by its precepts and doctrines.
Weak and sinful as this prayer was, I believe the God of pity
heard and answered it; for, notwithstanding my disinclination to the
fulfilment of this vow, made under circumstances so appalling, He bore
with me, but never allowed me to forget it. Every appearance of evil
--and especially the return of the cholera in our midst the next fall
--seemed to me, "like the fingers upon the wall," ready to write my doom.
I often tried to become interested in reading the Bible, but that
sacred book possessed no charm to me. I found it a hard and unpleasant
task to read it at all. At length I summoned up courage to communicate
my difficulties and fears to my husband. Prompt in action, he
immediately purchased for me "Scott's Commentary," which, he said,
would aid me in understanding the Bible; the want of which, he thought,
was the reason I could feel no interest in it. He was right; for,
before I had finished the book of Matthew, with the systematic and
attentive reading of "the notes" and "practical observations," I was
convinced that this was none other than the word of that great Being
who had made and preserved me all the days of my life. This blessed
book--which, hitherto, had been a sealed book to me--now seemed to
glow with real life, and unwonted beauty! It was no difficult task for
me then, hour after hour, to pore over its sacred pages.
Your grandfather, at this time, was only a nominal believer. He
had not earnestly examined this all-important matter, and made it a
personal one. Engrossed in business, young and healthy, he no doubt
felt, like thousands of others, that there was time enough for him to
attend to the interests of his soul, (which, to the natural heart, is
insipid, if not distasteful); but, when he saw his wife so deeply
interested, he did all he could to encourage her. He knelt with her at
the bedside in secret prayer, conversed with her on the subject, went
with her to church, and sympathized with her; until, as a reward, I
truly believe, for all his kindness to me, at a time when I was ashamed
of myself--ashamed to let anyone know (even him) that I felt the
weight of unpardoned sin-God touched his heart as with a live coal
from off His altar." So, hand and heart, we went together.
Sweet is the memory of the ever-to-be-remembered day, when, "in
the presence of men and of angels, we avouched the Lord JEHOVAH to be
our God, the object of our supreme love and delight; the Lord Jesus
Christ to be our Saviour from sin and death, our Prophet, Priest, and
King; and the Holy Ghost, our Illuminator, Sanctifier, Comforter, and
Guide;" when we gave ourselves away in "a covenant, never to be
revoked, to be his willing servants forever, humbly believing that we
had been redeemed, not with corruptible things, as silver and gold, but
with the precious blood of the Son of God."
How different is the scene now presented at that fireside, where
no God had heretofore been acknowledged! For, morning and evening, we
surround the Throne of Grace; the Bible is read, a hymn sung, and that
sweet voice, which we shall hear no more on earth, with a full
confession of sin and unworthiness, humbly pleads with Him "in whom we
live, and move, and have our being." A blessing is asked at our meals;
preparations are made on Saturday for the holy Sabbath, that no
unnecessary work may be done on that day, and servants are exhorted to
improve its sacred hours.
After having dedicated ourselves to the service of the living
God, we took our little Lizzie--the dearest, richest treasure of our
heart and life--and presented her, in the solemn ordinance of baptism,
to that Saviour who, when all earth, "took little children in his arms
and blessed them," and there promised to pray with, and for her; to
impart to her the knowledge of God's holy word, and to bring her up,
not for this vain and perishing world, but for Heaven.
Now, my dear children, that I have given you a peep into the home
and household of your grandparents, when your mamma was a little
babe--before and after they became members of the Church--I will proceed,
by telling you that, during that summer, (in July, 1834), your beloved
grandfather met with another heavy bereavement, in the death of his
father. None were then left of all that united and happy family circle,
which caused the homestead to ring with mirth when "grandma," as a
bride, first became a member of it, excepting his mother, his brother
Edward, and himself. Deep sorrow pervaded our souls, most of all
because, before this sad event, we had learned to feel, most keenly,
the importance of a careful preparation for "the great change," which
we do not know that his father ever made. But, (as I once heard a
minister say at a funeral), "we will leave him where he left himself,
in secret with his God," with the hope that he was enabled, by that
grace which is rich in Christ Jesus, to "make his calling and election
sure."
Life is made up of lights and shadows, and, before closing this
letter, I will give you an account of a delightful little journey which
we made early in September of that year.
Your mamma, who was then just twenty-two months old, was quite
delicate, and we thought a little trip into the country would be of
service to her; and her papa, having some business in Illinois that
would cause an absence of ten or twelve days, concluded to hitch up our
little barouche and take us with him. So we started, in fine style, on
a beautiful morning--"grandpa," and "grandma," our little Lizzie; and
her nurse--which, with a small trunk, a carpet-bag, and a little
basket, containing some crackers, etc., for the baby, quite filled the
carriage.
Ill tell you there is no such traveling these days of railroads
and steam boats! Every body is in too great a hurry to stop and go
slowly, as we did in our little barouche, trotting gently along across
the prairies of Illinois. How balmy and bracing the air; how quiet the
scene; how beautiful the prairies! Some four, some ten, some twenty
miles in width--all covered with tall grasses and a profusion of large
autumn flowers that waved in graceful undulations before the sweeping
breeze. An apt representation of a gently swelling sea, upon whose dark
green waves, nature had emptied her lap of richly varied blossoms.
We traveled from twenty-five to thirty miles per day; starting
early in the morning--while yet the dew glittered before the rising
sun. We always took care to learn from our host, the distance and
situation of the next good stopping place, where we might dine, and
rest a few hours in the heat of the day, after which we would again
"hitch up" and start refreshed and strengthened for our evening ride.
What magnificent sunsets! How picturesque the woodland bordering
of these beautiful prairies, with here and there an humble residence,
and a cultivated field. We could not but lift our hearts in adoration
and praise.
If God has made this world so fair, where sin and death abound,
How beautiful, beyond compare, will Paradise be found.
On we went--passing occasionally through neat little villages,
sometimes large towns, such as, Springfield and Jacksonville--until we
reached Lewiston, where we spent the Sabbath and attended the village
church. In the afternoon of the next day we went to Canton which was
the end of our journey. And when "grandpa" had transacted his business
there we turned our faces homeward.
The first day upon our return, we lost our way--then appeared
clouds and mists, just enough rain falling, to make the high hills we
had to climb, slippery and hard upon our poor horse, who manfully
pulled away without flagging, until we found a shelter for the night;
which, although a wretched one we were very thankful for. From this
time, there is but a faint impression left upon my mind of our return,
until within a few miles of Alton, when, as the sun was fast sinking
into his glorious bed of cloud and fire (giving strong indications of
an approaching storm), my anxious husband, after having made a
strenuous but vain attempt to obtain a shelter for the night "whipped
up" his jaded horse and pressed forward.
It grew dark rapidly. As we passed from the open prairie into the
dense forest, we seemed to leave light and hope behind us--for cloud
and tempest, lightning, and loud claps of thunder quickly succeeded.
For awhile we could discern the road; at length, enveloped in total
darkness, it was to be seen, only by the flashes of lightning, which,
while it horrified our horse and ourselves, served to guide us and also
to show us our danger, from the tall trees as they swung to and fro
above and around us. About nine o'clock we discovered (as we thought)
in the distance a light from a window, of which we were soon assured
--and our fears allayed by hearing "the watch-dog's honest bark."
Next day we reached our snug little home, where we entertained
the family with the incidents of our trip--its pleasures, hair-breadth
escapes, &c. None were more delighted in that group than our sweet
Lizzie, who brought the roses of the prairie home upon her little
checks, which were more than a reward for a few untoward events of that
delightful and long remembered journey.
Affectionately yours, GRANDMA.