SALOME'S RECOVERY.
IT was the night on which Salome seemed most ill; indeed, her face
looked so altered and strange, that I thought every breath might be her
last. I felt sure that the angel of death was in the room that night.
He was in the room, but it was not for Salome that he had come. Little
Jude was taken, and Salome was left. And two days afterwards the angel
of death came again, and Bartholomew was taken; and then after a few
more days, Simon and Thomas were taken, and still Salome was left. But
the doctor still would give very little hope; she might pull through,
he said, but he did not think it was likely that she would.
That was a terrible time for us all.
It was a terrible time for my poor father, for he loved his children
very deeply, and after he and I had followed one little coffin after
another to the grave, he would come home and sit for hours with his
head resting on his hands, not speaking a word, but full of sorrowful
thought.
It was a terrible time for my poor mother. I felt sure she would be
ill when it was all over. She had cried bitterly when little Jude was
taken; but after that she seemed as if she could not cry, as if her
tears were locked up, and as if she were doing everything she did in
her sleep. Indeed, I believe it seemed to her more like an awful dream
than a real trouble.
Poor father and mother, they had no heavenly comforter; the Lord was
not at that time their Friend and their Saviour! But this very sorrow,
which seemed the worst thing which could have happened to us, was to be
used by God to bring them to Himself.
One night—I think it was the night after Simon and Thomas had been laid
in the grave—we were sitting in Salome's room. She was conscious now,
and the fever had quite left her; but she was very weak—so weak that
I was afraid to let her talk; so weak that she was as helpless as a
little baby. Matthew was much better; he had not had the fever so badly
as the others, and he was sitting up in bed.
"There seems nothing to do," said mother that night, as she sat by the
fire in her black dress; and for the very first time since little Jude
had died she burst into tears.
I knew it would do her good to cry, so I did not stop her, but I laid
my head on her shoulder, and we cried together, and my father, who was
sitting near Salome's bed, groaned aloud.
We sat in silence for a long time, and we thought Salome was asleep,
for she had her eyes shut, but she suddenly opened them, and said:
"Read a bit, please, dear Peter."
I took up her Testament and read aloud:
"The Lord Himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the
voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in
Christ shall rise first:
"Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with
them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever
be with the Lord.
"Wherefore comfort one another with these words."
"Don't you wish Jesus would come to-night, father," said Salome, "and
bring Simon, and Thomas, and Bartholomew, and Jude with Him? We would
all go flying up to meet them then; wouldn't we, father?"
My father did not speak; but he took hold of Salome's thin hand and
kissed it.
"She's always talking about that, Peter," said my mother. "Ever since
you gave her that Testament, her head has been running on that.
"'Mother,' she says, 'would the angels take you?'
"'Jude,' she says, 'would you be taken, or left?'
"'Thomas,' she says, 'wouldn't it be nice if Jesus came to-day?'
"And the boys listened to her wonderful; they did, indeed. Simon, he
talked a deal about it just before he died, and about his sins being
washed away. I don't know much about it," said poor mother, crying more
than ever; "I've toiled, and worked, and slaved to get you food and
clothes, and to keep you clean and decent. But I haven't thought about
these things as I should, and it seems to me, if the Lord was to come,
the angels would be carrying you all away, and leaving me behind."
"And me!" said father, with another groan.
"Oh, no!" said little Salome, with all the strength she had. "Father
and mother must come, too; mustn't they, Peter? Kneel down and ask
Jesus to wash their sins away, and then He won't forget to send the
angels for them when He comes in the sky."
So I knelt down and said a very simple little prayer; and when I rose
from my knees both my father and mother were crying.
They said nothing more then, but I have every reason to believe that
they did indeed come to the Lord Jesus as their Saviour that very
night, and that, from that time, both father and mother loved and
served the Lord Jesus, and longed for His appearing, feeling sure that
in that great day they would be taken, and not left.
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