South Weymouth, Mass.,
February 6, 1920.
Dear Mary:
May I tell you a little story? It has largely to do with one whom you
loved and who loved you very much. You called him "Grandpa."
The story begins sixty-four years ago this coming spring, when two
brothers, a big brother of sixteen years and a little brother of eight
years, started out together one morning for school. They were going to
attend a private school, for a few weeks, in a strange district about
two miles from their home. The little brother would have been afraid
to go that long distance alone; but he had all confidence in his big
brother, whom he loved very dearly.
They had not been in that school very long when the teacher discovered
that the big brother was the best scholar he had. Very soon the teacher
asked him to help him in his work. Do you think the big brother refused?
One day the teacher was ill and could not attend school. He sent word by
one of his pupils that he wanted his best scholar to take charge of the
school for the day. Well, that was a trying experience for a boy of
sixteen; but that boy commanded the respect of all the pupils of that
school; so he undertook the task and with wonderful success. He had no
difficulty with any of the pupils although some of them were older than
himself. Perhaps the little brother wasn't proud to have such a big
brother! It was about this time that the little fellow began to notice
how earnestly his older brother was trying to do right in every way; it
made a great impression upon him.
The few weeks of private school ended and the big brother soon opened
the summer term of school in his home district. In spite of his youth
he was appointed teacher and all the people of the district seemed very
glad. Among his pupils were little brother, two other brothers, and a
sister.
The teacher was so successful in his work that the parents in the
district wanted him to teach another and another term. He did so; but
all the time he was studying to prepare himself for larger work. He took
advantage of every opportunity to attend school for a term or two at a
time in some academy, until he became fitted for college. Meanwhile he
was deeply interested in his younger brothers and sister and doing all
he could to help them along in their studies.
About the time he was sixteen years old he heard a voice that seemed to
say to him, "Go, work in my vineyard!" That voice meant everything to
him; he was eager, therefore, to obey it. To work in the vineyard meant
doing good, helping others, being unselfish, giving strength and cheer
when needed. We all know how well he did his work in the Master's
vineyard and through how many years he sowed the good seed.
A few weeks ago, the little brother, to whom I have referred, was
looking forward to the coming of big brother's eightieth birthday and
wishing that he could give expression to something worthy of the brother
and his wonderful life-work. While he knew that he was not equal to
an ideal accomplishment of such a pleasant task, he made one of his
attempts and wrote the few lines enclosed, finishing them a very few
days before the sad news of Grandpa's fatal illness reached him. He has
made no change in them, realizing that you will understand that he was
fondly hoping that his eightieth birthday would find big brother in his
usual health and strength. So, with a heart heavy with grief, yet full
of loving and grateful memories of my dear big brother, I am telling you
this little story and sending you the accompanying tribute to one of the
best men that ever lived.
And now, with much love to yourself and all the members of your home,
the little brother of sixty-four years ago wishes to sign himself
Your affectionate
UNCLE FREEMAN.