My Dear Grandchildren:
It has been nearly two years since I last wrote to you, since
which time, war has desolated our once prosperous and happy country,
and drenched its soil with the blood of her sons. All has been
excitement and turmoil. Many widows and orphans have been made-and
the wail of anguish has been poured into the ear of the God of Sabbath.
But I turn from the revolting facts which belong to the history of the
nation-to consider the last sad hours of your revered grandfather,
and to copy for your instruction and admonition his dying words.
After having seen something of his daily walk through life, thought upon
his sad and unexpected death, and in imagination mingled
with the throng that followed him to his last resting place-your mind
will naturally revert to the lonely homestead and its desolate inmates.
But words cannot picture the anguished of our hearts, the gloom and
loneliness of our home--after the last relic of its light and glory
had passed away from our view. So you will follow me, my dear
children, to that little store on Market Street; look upon the bare
floor, and behold your grandfather-the gentle and loving man, in his
dying agony! Listen to his words.
He knew he was dying, for he said, in answer to a hope expressed,
that he might live-No, no, no! I am a dead man. After a pause he
uttered, fervently, Lord Jesus, come quickly.
Again, said he, I am a great sinner. Some one directed him to
look to Jesus. I do look to him. He is my all. He is very precious
to my soul.
Again, he said, I deserve all I suffer, for I am a great
sinner.
I heard all this, but do not know how long I had been by him,
when he said to me, Charlotte, I have loved you always-dearly loved
you-and I love you to the end. Then turning his eye towards your
father, who was on the opposite side of him, said he, Louis, I leave
my family to you-my wife I leave to you.
Some gentleman came up and asked, Mr. Charless, who shot you?
He replied, A man by the name of Thornton. I was called upon to
testify against him in court last fall. While President of the Bank of
Missouri, he brought me some bank notes to redeem. They were stained
and had the appearance of having been buried. I asked him where he got
those notes. He replied, he had bought them from some boatmen, who
said they had found them under a stump, which had been pulled up from a
boat having been tied to it. I told him that was a very unlikely
story. When called upon to testify, I told, upon oath, what I knew
about the matter, but I had no unkind feeling towards the poor fellow.
I would have done him a kindness if it had been in my power. I have
always tried to be a good neighbor-to do justly-and to love mercy.
But I honor my country, and the majesty of her laws, and I have never
shrunk from discharging my duty as a man, and as a Christian.
Sometime afterwards he said, How little we know what is before
us.
I remember, my children, in that dark hour, to have seen your
dear mother, kneeling at the head of her precious father, in the
deepest woe, alternating between glimmerings of hope, and agonizing
fear.
To some remark of Col Grimsley, he said, No, Colonel, no! I
forgive my murderer; from the bottom of my heart, I forgive him.
Some one asked him if he would not like to see a minister. He
answered, Send for Mr. McPheeters. You will find him at the Second
Presbyterian Church, at the meeting of the Church Extension Committee.
My dear Pastor, I am glad to see you, I have always loved you.
You have tried to instruct men, and I thank you for it.
My beloved sister, for whom my heart is now bleeding-for she
too has left us and gone away, to return no more to cheer, to
sympathize with, and to comfort us in our sorrows-was at my
brothers, six miles from the city, and was late in meeting with us at
this mournful scene. When she arrived, in broken accents she asked,
Is there no hope? Is there no hope? No hope here, replied my
husband, but a bright hope beyond!
Thank God! for the bright hope which I have that they met again,
not, as then, in sorrow, but in the full enjoyment of the blissful
presence of the adorable Jesus! But, come back my thoughts from that
joyous abode, to the once happy little earthly home, I used to have,
and go with me, dear children, to the same parlors, where your dear
mother has had so much pleasure in the days of her youth, and behold,
laid on a narrow couch, in agony and blood, that noble form. The
beloved and admired of all who knew him. The rooms, the halls, are
filled with anxious friends, but stillness reigns. Not a sound is
heard save the involuntary groans of the dying Christian. In the midst
of them he would sometimes exclaim, God have mercy upon me a sinner!
Through that long dark day, little was said. After many
paroxysms of intense pain, Mr. McPheeters said, Mr. Charless, you know
something now about the sufferings of Jesus. Yes, he faintly
replied, I have been thinking about that, while lying here.
Again, Mr. McPheeters repeated, Father, if it be possible, let
this cup pass from me. In broken accents he replied, Nevertheless
not my will, but Thine be done.