HER SICKNESS AND DEATH.
_Brief agitations of her mind.--Her love for her people.--Is visited
by Dr. Campbell.--Letter to Mrs. Campbell.--Alarming symptom in her
disease.--Her resignation and consolations.--Dr. Campbell advises
her removal to Limestone.--State of her mind at this time.--Strong
manifestations of affection for her at Creek-Path.--Account of her
removal.--Temporary improvement in her health.--Dictates a letter
to her brother David.--Hopes of her recovery relinquished.--This
fact stated to her father and herself.--Her last hours, death, and
burial.--Monument over her grave._
The attention of the reader is now invited to the closing scenes in the
life of Catharine, where her faith in her Saviour will be seen to have
been signally triumphant over the terrors of the grave.
After she returned from Brainerd, she seems generally to have
considered her removal from the world as not very distant, and to have
spent much time in reflecting on death and its consequences. These
subjects she not unfrequently made the topics of conversation. One
instance of this kind is described by Mrs. Potter.
“Entering her room, one evening, at an early hour, I found she had
retired with unusual debility. She requested me to read, from some
medical author, the symptoms of consumption. I complied; and, after
comparing them with her own, she expressed a belief, that she had
that disease. I inquired what were her feelings in view of this
conclusion. She replied, with tears, ‘I am not prepared to die.’
You have a hope, I said, of happiness beyond the grave? ‘Yes, I
have a hope resting on the promises of the Saviour; but I have been
unfaithful!’
“We were both too much affected to say more, and remained for some
time silent. At length Catharine sweetly raised her voice and said,
‘Sister Potter how beautiful is this hymn;’ and then she repeated
‘Why should we start and fear to die!
What timorous worms we mortals are!
Death is the gate of endless joy,
And yet we dread to enter there.
‘The pains, and groans, and dying strife
Fright our approaching souls away;
Still we shrink back again to life,
Fond of our prison and our clay.
‘Oh, if my Lord would come and meet,
My soul should stretch her wings in haste;
Fly fearless through death’s iron gate,
Nor feel the terrors as she passed.
‘Jesus can make a dying bed
Feel soft as downy pillows are,
While on his breast I lean my head,
And breathe my life out sweetly there.’
“I inquired if she could adopt this as the language of her heart, and
she answered, with great meekness, that she hoped she could.”
It does not appear, that, after this, her mind was again seriously
disturbed by apprehensions respecting _her own_ future well-being.
But when she saw her aged parents in an infirm state of health, and
needing all the attentions of an affectionate daughter, and when,
moreover, she reflected how many of her dear people remained ignorant
of the only Saviour of sinners, she clung to life, and her earnest
prayer was, that she might recover. We are informed, that her trials
from these sources were, at one time, very severe.
She said to a beloved friend, “I know, that it is my duty to submit
entirely to the will of God. He can carry on his work without me. He
can take care of my parents. Yet I am anxious to recover. I wish to
labour more for my people.”
How strong her desires were for the improvement of her people, is
further evident from this fact, that though David was the only
surviving brother, who had the same mother with herself, and though
he was dearer to her than any one else, except her parents, she was,
for some time, unwilling he should be informed of her sickness, lest
he should be induced to leave his studies, and come home to see her.
Much as she loved him, she said she had rather he would remain in New
England, until he was prepared to preach Christ to his countrymen.
In April she was visited by that kind friend of herself and family,
Dr. Campbell. He strongly advised, that she should remove to his
house, thinking it probable that he might then relieve her. Her friends
all consented, only desiring her to remain at home a few days, till
the departure of her brother Webber, who had come from the Arkansas.
But his stay was unexpectedly prolonged a month. During this time,
Catharine failed so rapidly, that she was unable to ride to Limestone,
where Dr. Campbell then resided.
On this occasion, Catharine thus wrote to Mrs. Campbell.
_Creek-Path, April 17, 1823._
My dear Mrs. Campbell,
My heart was made truly glad this morning, by the arrival of Dr.
Campbell. I have long been very anxious to see him, on account of the
low state of my health. For two months past, it has been declining,
and I am now reduced to extreme debility. This affliction I view as
coming from my heavenly Father. I deserve correction, and hope to
bear the chastising rod with humble submission.
I have a wish to recover, that I may be useful to my poor countrymen,
but know, that all human means will be ineffectual without the
blessing of God. I pray that Dr. Campbell may be the instrument in
his hands of restoring me to health. If the weather were pleasant, I
should be disposed to return with him.
I thank you for your present, and wish I had something valuable to
send in return. Dr. Campbell will hand you a little ribbond. When you
wear it, remember Catharine.
Mrs. P. sends love, and hopes to receive a visit from you ere long.
Much love to the children.
Farewell, my friend, my sister. May heaven grant you its choicest
blessings, and reward you an hundred fold for all your kindness
to me. Again I say, farewell. May we meet in heaven. Yours
affectionately.
CATHARINE BROWN.
As she approached nearer to eternity, her faith evidently grew
stronger, and she became more and more able cheerfully to resign, not
only herself, but her parents, her friends, her people, her all, to the
disposal of her Lord.
May 15th she was reduced very low by a hemorrhage from the lungs, and
for a few days was viewed as upon the borders of the grave.
Before this alarming symptom, it had been proposed to send again for
Dr. Campbell. But her parents were persuaded first to try the skill of
some Indian practitioners. Their prescriptions were followed, until
the hemorrhage occurred. Then her alarmed parents sent immediately
for Mr. Potter, hoping he could do something to relieve their darling
child. Providentially the Rev. Reynolds Bascom, of whom mention has
been already made, had just arrived from the Choctaw nation, on his way
to the northern States; and having been afflicted in a similar manner
himself, he was able to administer effectual remedies.
It is pleasing to be able to insert here the notices, which Mr. Bascom
made, at the time, respecting his interview with her, in this hour of
trial.
“May 15. Rode to brother Potter’s, before breakfast. Soon after our
arrival, a message came, that Catharine Brown had been taken with
bleeding at the lungs, and brother Potter was requested to visit her.
We accordingly rode over to her father’s house immediately after
breakfast, and found her entirely prostrated by a copious hemorrhage.
After bleeding her in the arm, she experienced a sensible relief.
“16. Visited Catharine, with brother Potter, and found it necessary
to bleed her again. Conversed and prayed with her, and left her in a
peaceful frame of mind.
“19. Left Creek-Path for Brainerd. Brother Potter rode with us to Mr.
Brown’s. Catharine appeared sweetly composed. Her countenance was
cheerful, and her soul filled with tenderness and filial trust in God.
After conversation and prayer, I asked her what she would have me say
to her brother David.
“She replied, ‘Tell him not to be uneasy about _me_. If I do not meet
him in this world, I hope to meet him in heaven. I have a great desire
to see him, but the Lord may not permit us to meet here.’ These words
were spoken in a low, but audible whisper, and with the significant
emphasis of a heart filled with faith and love.
“I have rarely, if ever, seen a more lovely object for the pencil,
than she appeared to me on her dying bed. The natural mildness of her
features seemed lighted with a beam of heavenly hope, and her whole
aspect was that of a mature Christian, waiting, with filial patience,
the welcome summons to the presence of her Lord.”
Mrs. Potter says,--“Death was now disarmed of his terrors. She could
look into the grave without alarm. She confessed her sins with great
meekness, and mourned that she had not been more faithful in the
service of God; yet rejoiced to resign her soul into the hands of her
Redeemer.
“Once, when I visited her, she affectionately took my hand and
said,--‘My dear sister, I have been wishing to see you, for several
days. I have thought a great deal of you and Mr. Potter. I love you
much, but am going to leave you. I think I shall not live long. You
have done much for me. I thank you, and hope the Lord will reward
you. I am willing to die, if it be the will of God. I know that I
have experienced his love. I have no desire to live in this world,
but to do good. But God can carry on his work without me. I hope you
will continue the meetings of females. You must not be discouraged. I
thought when I should get to the Arkansas, I would form a society among
the females, like ours. But I shall never live to get there. I feel for
my dear parents, but the Lord will take care of them.’
“At another interview she said,--‘I feel perfectly resigned to the will
of God. I know he will do right with his children. I thank God, that I
am entirely in his hands. I feel willing to live, or die, as he thinks
best. My only wish is, that he may be glorified. I hope, should I ever
recover, I shall be more faithful in the cause of Christ, than I have
ever been.’”
A request was sent to Dr. Campbell to visit her as soon as possible.
But he was unable to come till the 21st, by which time Catharine was
so much enfeebled, as to be entirely confined to her room. She could
not even raise herself without assistance. The physician gave it as his
opinion, that she could live but a few days, unless she was removed to
Limestone, it being impossible for him to attend on her at so great a
distance. Whether such a removal was possible, was at first doubted.
But a kind Providence furnished unexpectedly such facilities for the
measure, that it was determined on.
Before entering on an account of her removal, some further notices of
the state of her mind will be given.
Just before her leaving home, she requested a friend to write thus, on
her behalf, to her brother David. “I am entirely resigned to the will
of God, and hope you will feel the same resignation. I am perfectly
willing to die, or to live, as the Lord shall direct. This world is
nothing but sin. I have no wish to live in it, but to do good. If it be
the Lord’s will to take me now, I am willing to go.”
“Religious confidence and tranquillity,” says Dr. Campbell, “were at
this time her sweet companions. How happy she seemed in my view, so
near the confines of the eternal world, about to relinquish all earthly
cares and sorrows for the enjoyment of her dear Redeemer’s presence!
“On the 23d, she seemed to have the most cheering evidence of her
interest in the Lord Jesus. Thus she exclaimed,--‘Now I am ready to
die. Oh, how delightful is the view of my Saviour! How happy shall I
be, when I arrive at my Father’s house.’
“On being asked, what would be her feelings, if it was the will of God
she should live, she replied; ‘The Lord’s will be done, and not mine.
If I can promote his cause in any way, I am desirous to live. But if I
am taken away, I hope my brother David will be useful, in bringing our
benighted nation to a knowledge of Jesus.’
“Her soul appeared full, and more than full, of love to God. She spoke
much of his goodness to her, and expressed much regret, that she had
done so little in his cause. The day preceding this, she had expressed
a wish to go to Huntsville, and unite with Mrs. L. and C. in forming
an association for prayer, and in endeavouring to do something for the
cause of Christ.”
Catharine was now unable to endure the motion of a carriage, even for
a short distance. It would be necessary, therefore, in proceeding to
Limestone, to carry her on a litter to the Tennessee river, which was
six miles distant; then to take her in a boat down the river, forty
miles, to a village named Trienna; and from thence, on a litter again,
about five miles, to Dr. Campbell’s. But, in order to the successful
prosecution of this enterprise, the aid of some person, through the
whole distance, who was acquainted with the English language, was
indispensable. And it should be thankfully noted, that, just when
the question of removal was agitated, Mr. William Leech, a pious
acquaintance from Huntsville, providentially arrived at Creek-Path, and
very kindly tendered his services.
Monday, the 26th of May, was the time appointed for commencing the
journey.
“Numbers,” says Mrs. Potter, “assembled to take, as they feared, and
as it proved, a last look of their beloved friend. After a prayer,
in which she was commended to the divine protection, the canoe was
announced to be in readiness, and we followed the litter, borne by her
affectionate people, to the river. Old and young were bathed in tears,
and some were obliged to use their influence to prevent a general and
loud lamentation. Catharine alone was calm, while she bade farewell to
those she tenderly loved.”
“Mr. Leech says, that small groups of her acquaintance were frequently
seen on the road, waiting her approach. When she arrived where they
were, they would hasten to the side of the litter, take her by the
hand, and often walk away without speaking a word, the tears all the
while rolling down their cheeks.”
Two or three extracts from Mr. Leech’s narrative of the voyage and
journey, from the time of her embarkation on the river, will be
inserted.
“About 4 o’clock, P. M. on the 26th, we began to glide quite pleasantly
down the stream, accompanied by several of Catharine’s relatives. Our
design was to stop as soon as it became dark, until the moon arose.
But we could discover no suitable place for landing, till daylight was
gone, and then the difficulty was increased. The margin of the river
was generally covered with brushwood. In some places, the shore was a
deep mire; at others, there were bluffs and rocks. This made landing
difficult and dangerous in the dark; and along this part of the river
were scarcely any settlements.
“At length the danger of running was such, as to determine us to get
upon the land in some way. We accordingly steered towards the shore,
and providentially discovered a good landing-place, near which was
also a house, where our party was kindly entertained, and our various
wants supplied. Had we passed this place, we should not have found such
another, for twenty miles.
“When the moon was sufficiently risen, we again started. The night was
beautiful, and the rocks and mountains, towering up from the river’s
brink, looked grand, by the moonlight, as we passed along. The next day
the heat of the sun was excessive, and we did not reach Trienna till
one o’clock in the afternoon.
“Here we were all strangers. I had, however, a letter from Dr. Campbell
to a young gentleman, which I delivered. He obtained a carriage, but
Catharine was too weak to ride in it. How to procure people enough,
in this land of strangers, to carry her in a litter to Dr. C.’s, a
distance of five miles, I knew not. But our situation becoming known,
men were soon at hand to carry her, free of all expense.
“And here I would observe, that every person, who saw her, was, so far
as I could discover, much interested in her behalf.
“When we were ready to start, our young friend, to whom I brought the
letter, placed the mother and sister of Catharine in the carriage, and
went himself with them. Thus we were assisted on our way, the Lord
putting it into the hearts of strangers to afford us every facility in
their power, and we arrived at Dr. Campbell’s, a little before dark, on
the 27th.”
Here, not less than at her father’s house, she found friends, who were
ready to make any sacrifice for her comfort, and with whom she could
freely converse on the subject, which lay nearest her heart. Under the
skilful care of Dr. Campbell, she soon began to amend, and hopes were
entertained that she would even partially recover.
Early in June, her dear friend, Mrs. Potter, came from Creek-Path to
see her.
This lady, in a letter to the Corresponding Secretary of the American
Board, says: “She then seemed to think she might recover; but
manifested no wish to live, unless it should be for the glory of God.
She said, ‘When I enjoy the presence of the Saviour, I long to be gone.’
“While at Dr. Campbell’s, I wrote a letter to her brother David,
informing him of her illness. When about to close the letter, I went to
her bed-side and said, ‘Catharine, what shall I say to your brother for
you?’
“After a short pause, she replied, ‘If you will write, I will dictate a
short letter.’
“Then raising herself in the bed, and wiping away a tear, that was
falling from her eye, she, with a sweet smile, began to relate what God
had done for her soul while upon that sick bed.
“To my partial eye, she was, at that moment, an interesting spectacle,
and I have often wished, that her portrait could then have been taken.
Her countenance was softened with the affectionate remembrance of an
endeared brother; her cheek was a little flushed with the exertion of
speaking, her eye beamed with spiritual joy, and a heavenly smile
animated the whole scene. I shall never forget it, nor the words she
then whispered in my ear.”
* * * * *
The reader will naturally desire to see the letter, which was dictated
and penned under circumstances so interesting. It was written in exact
accordance with her dictation, and was as follows.
_Limestone, June 13, 1823._
My dear Brother,
Mrs. Potter has told you the particulars of my illness. I will only
tell you what I have experienced on my sick-bed.
I have found, that it is good for me to be afflicted. The Saviour is
very precious to me. I often enjoy his presence, and I long to be
where I can enjoy it without sin. I have indeed been brought very
low, and did not expect to live until this time. But I have had joy,
such as I never experienced before. I longed to be gone; was ready to
die at any moment.
I love you very much, and it would be a great happiness to me to see
you again in this world. Yet I don’t know that I shall. God only
knows. We must submit to his will. We know, that if we never meet
again in this world, the Lord has prepared a place in his heavenly
kingdom, where I trust we shall meet, never to part. We ought to
be thankful for what he has done for us. If he had not sent us the
Gospel, we should have died without any knowledge of the Saviour.
You must not be grieved, when you hear of my illness. You must
remember, that this world is not our home, that we must all die soon.
I am here under the care of Dr. Campbell, and his very kind
family. My mother and sister Susan are with me. Since I came here,
I have been a great deal better, and the doctor sometimes gives
encouragement of my getting well. But we cannot tell. I am willing to
submit myself to the will of God. I am willing to die, or live, as he
sees best.
I know I am his. He has bought me with his blood, and I do not wish
to have any will but his. He is good, and can do nothing wrong. I
trust, if he spares my life, he will enable me to be faithful to his
cause. I have no desire to live in this world, but to be engaged in
his service.
It was my intention to instruct the people more than I had done, when
I returned from Brainerd; but when I got home, I was not able to do
it.
It was a great trial to me not to be able to visit our neighbours,
and instruct them. But I feel that it is all right. It is my prayer
that you may be useful, and I hope the Lord _will_ make you useful to
our poor people.
From your affectionate sister
CATHARINE.
How much soever her hopes, and those of her friends were raised at this
period, with respect to her recovery, they were of brief duration.
Though every attention, which an unwearied kindness could bestow, was
given her, and prayer was offered continually on her behalf, her Lord
and Master was pleased to hasten her departure. She had entered the
last six weeks of her life, and thenceforward her descent towards the
grave, was regular and unremitted.
Dr. Campbell now thought it his duty to inform her parents and herself,
that his hopes, even of her partial recovery, were gone.
Upon communicating this intelligence to her father, who a little before
had come to Limestone, the good old man, after a solemn silence of
several minutes, observed, “The Lord has been good to give me such a
child, and he has a right to take her when he thinks best. But though
it is my duty to give her up, it is hard to part with her.”
Catharine received the notice without manifesting the least alarm, only
requesting the doctor to inform her, how long she might probably live.
On the morning of July 17th, she was supposed to have commenced her
last agonies, and Dr. Campbell was immediately called to her bed-side.
“I found,” says he, “some appearance of anxiety on her countenance,
which was the result of new sensations of bodily distress, and not
of any agitation of mind. As soon as she could speak, (for she was
sometimes speechless,) extending her hand to me, she calmly observed,
‘I am gone.’
“Some hours after this, when her distress returned, and her respiration
became very difficult and painful, she said, in reference to her
sufferings, ‘What shall I do?’ I inquired, if, in this trying hour, she
could not confidently rely on her Saviour? She answered, ‘Yes.’
“Through the day her mind was perfectly tranquil, and though several
times, when her mother and friends were weeping about her, the tears
would start into her eyes, she would quickly suppress them. She seemed
to spend most of the time in prayer.
“The night was one of considerable distress, owing to her difficulty
of breathing. In the morning she looked toward the window, and asked
me if it was not day. I replied, that it was. She then turned her
eyes towards heaven, and an indescribable placidness spread over her
countenance.
“Perhaps she thought, that the next morning she should behold, would be
the morning of the resurrection.
“As death advanced, and the powers of nature gave way, she frequently
offered her hand to the friends around her bed. Her mother and sister
weeping over her, she looked steadily at the former, for a short time,
filial love beaming from her eyes; and then,--she closed them in the
sleep of death.
“She expired without a groan, or a struggle. Even those around the bed
scarcely knew, that the last breath had left her, until I informed them
she was gone.
“Thus fell asleep this lovely saint, in the arms of her Saviour, a
little past 6 o’clock, on the morning of July 18th, 1823.”
* * * * *
Her afflicted relatives conveyed her remains to Creek-Path, where they
were, on the 20th, deposited near the residence of her parents, and
by the side of her brother John, who had died about a year and a half
before, in the triumphs of the same faith.
Her age was about twenty-three; and six years had elapsed from her
first entering the school at Brainerd. She was then a heathen, but she
became enlightened and sanctified, through the instrumentality of the
Gospel of Jesus, preached to her by the missionaries of the cross; and
her end was glorious.
A neat monument of wood, erected by her bereaved relatives, covers the
grave where she was laid. And though, a few years hence, this monument
may no longer exist to mark the spot where she slumbers, yet shall her
dust be precious in the eyes of the Lord, and her virtues shall be told
for a memorial of her.