"From the light ills of infant age.
Up to the plague's destructive rage,
Pains come and go at thy command,
True to the sceptre of thy hand." EAST.
_Thursday, June 11th._
When the Doctor left for his morning duties, he said, "Please bear in
mind, Cora, that you have engaged yourself to me for the afternoon."
"For _life_, I understood it," said I, trying to speak gravely.
He was much pleased, and turned back to give me another embrace, and
whispered, "my darling," in such a loving tone, that my heart felt very
warm all the forenoon.
I wish I could describe to you the view from my window. It rained all
night, and this morning was very foggy; but now the sun is beginning to
dispel the mist; and the mountain--oh, it is beautiful! I keep stopping
to look, and to inhale the balmy air. Now I can see the summit quite
distinctly; the sun is shining upon it, while the fleecy clouds roll off
and settle on the lake, from which they arise in thick mist.
Before we left our room this morning, Frank gave me a subject for
thought which rather troubles me; but I think I know what you and dear
father would advise; I know also what is right; but courage, _courage_
is wanting. We are constantly liable to be interrupted while engaged in
family devotions; or Frank is away at the regular time. He asked, this
morning, as a great favor to himself, that I would, in such cases, call
the family together and read prayers.
I started at the proposition, and was about to say, "I cannot," when he
said, "do not decide hastily. Think upon the subject, and tell me
to-morrow." After a pause, he continued, "the time of a physician is not
at his own command. I may be called away day after day; and our family
services lose half their interest and profit through the want of
regularity."
"How was it before I came?"
"Mother always conducted the service in my absence."
My mind was in a perfect tumult. At breakfast I thought I had found a
good excuse; at least, it then appeared so to me; and I tried to be
cheerful and to dismiss the subject. After prayers, as my husband was
leaving the room, I detained him; "Frank," I asked, "don't you think I'm
too young?--Cæsar, Phebe and Ann are so much older than I am. Does it
appear to you quite proper?"
"Well," said he, coming back and shutting the door, "I didn't think of
it in that light. You _are_ rather young, to be sure; only eighteen the
fourth day of February." I was surprised that he remembered the exact
day. "How soon do you think you will be at the proper age?"
I had thought, when he commenced, that he certainly considered this a
valid excuse; but the moment he asked that question, though there was
not the slightest touch of irony in his tone, yet I felt mortified in
the extreme, and the blood rushed to my very forehead. I turned quickly
away, as Emily entered the room.
And now what can I do? My heart almost stands still at the bare thought
of it; _I_, who have never audibly lifted up my voice in prayer to God,
save only in the presence of my little Pauline. _I cannot do it_; and I
think my husband almost hard to ask it of me. He is always so calm and
self-possessed, he little knows how my heart throbs.
_Noon._
As Frank has not returned, I will add a few lines. I have taken Pauline
for a walk through the garden, and made a call upon mother and sister.
How we all laughed when the little thing lisped "grandmamma," in
obedience to my wish. Before we came out, mother remarked that I looked
quite pale. I longed to ask her advice, but conscience whispered, "you
already know your duty;" and I concluded to say nothing about my
trouble. "Emily," I replied, "can sympathize with me; she is looking
very unwell."
As I spoke, her face and neck were covered with a burning blush. "Emily
is not well," said mother gravely; "She scarcely eats at all."
"O, mother!" exclaimed Emily, "I'm well enough, only a head ache," and
she went to the closet to get seed cakes for Pauline.
As I returned home through the kitchen garden, to give the child a
longer walk, I heard Phebe, who stood at the back door, call to Cæsar.
"Look dere now! see de young Missus. It's enough to do your old curly
pate powerful sight o' good just to see her a leading dis yer baby."
_Evening._
I obtained permission from mother this morning to leave Pauline with
her, while I rode with Frank. When the time arrived, Ann put on her
bonnet, and then it was very easy to induce Miss to have hers put on for
a walk to grandmamma's.
It has been a delightful day after the rain; and if my heart had been at
rest, I should have enjoyed the ride. I imagined my looks troubled Frank
a little, for he said he had intended taking me with him to visit one or
two families in the outskirts of the town; but if I did not feel
inclined, he would postpone it until another day. I assured him my
health was perfectly good, and I had anticipated the calls with much
pleasure. So we rode on through the village, he being more than usually
social and interesting, and giving me no time to think of myself until
we came to the border of the town, near the lake I have mentioned.
Here stood a number of small cottages, one story in height, with the
grounds about them enclosed with low fences. I noticed one of these bore
marks of more taste and refinement than the others. It had a pleasant
little patch of flowers along the side of the beaten path to the
entrance, while a beautiful rose bush was trained upon a trellis by the
side of the door, which run upon the house nearly to the roof, and
furnished a complete shade to one of the windows.
This was the home of the Doctor's patient, and I followed him to the
door, which stood hospitably open. A light knock brought a modest woman
to the entrance, who, in her tabby muslin cap, and her clean checked
apron, appeared very neatly. She courtesied as the Doctor introduced me,
and invited us to walk in. The patient is a young girl in her sixteenth
year, who is gradually wasting away with consumption. Never shall I
forget the bright expression of love and respect which beautified her
countenance, as Frank took her hand, and tenderly inquired how she had
passed the night. "I have brought you another friend," he added; "one I
am sure you will love. I think I can safely promise she will be happy to
do anything for your comfort." This promise I cheerfully confirmed.
Hers is a case requiring little medicine. Her sufferings are
comparatively slight, except from exhausting fits of coughing. She
appears to be passing gently away. The bright color which burned in her
cheek had now faded, leaving her face perfectly colorless. The only
relief to the marble whiteness was the long black lashes which lay upon
her cheek when she closed her eyes. Propped up in her bed by pillows,
she looked with her whole soul at the Doctor, who sat at her side,
speaking to her of God's rich mercy. She assented to what he said by a
slight inclination of the head, and sometimes repeated after him part of
the verse of Scripture, he quoted, as if to impress it upon her own
mind. But I could see plainly that she was under restraint by the
presence of a stranger.
When he arose, she held out her hand and whispered, "will you please to
pray with me?" Frank immediately reseated himself; and taking a little
pocket Bible from his coat, read a few verses from the fourteenth
chapter of John; and then prayed. I felt borne on wings of faith to
heaven as my dear husband praised God for the love which had sent the
Saviour into the world, that we might have pardon and eternal life; that
we might be elevated to seats at his right hand in heaven, and be joint
heirs with Christ to immortal glory and honor. He besought Jesus to
bless and comfort with his Divine presence, the dear child who was
approaching the dark valley; to give her the victory over sin, and
death, and to receive her through faith in him into the kingdom of
heaven, where her eternity might be spent in singing "Worthy the Lamb
that was slain."
As I approached the bed to bid her farewell, I was struck dumb, with the
heavenly smile of peace and joy which shone in every feature. Surely,
thought I, she has the seal upon her forehead; she already breathes the
air of heaven. I lifted her thin white hand to my lips, and bowed my
head in silence; I dared not trust my voice to speak.
The Doctor called Mrs. Leighton aside and gave her a few simple
directions before we left. He conducted me silently to the carriage,
turned the horse down a shady lane toward the water, and drew me to him
until I could lay my head upon his shoulder, when my excited feelings
found relief in tears.
When I had become more composed, Frank asked, "Is she not to be envied?"
"Oh, yes! _yes!_" I replied, "Would, I could feel the assurance of faith
and love, which lit up her face like that of an angel!"
He then, at my request, told me something of her history. Her parents,
Mr. and Mrs. Leighton, are respectable, pious people, who have been
deeply afflicted by the loss of two daughters and one son by the same
disease which is now wasting the frame of their only surviving child.
Naturally amiable and intelligent she has been too much indulged by her
fond parents, who cling to her as their last and best beloved.
So insidious was her disease, that, when summoned to her sick bed, Frank
found no skill could save her. He therefore endeavored to direct her to
the great Physician, to cure the disease of her soul.
"What was the state of her mind at that time?" I asked.
"Very rebellious. She was unwilling to hear a word of discouragement,
and talked constantly of pleasures and parties, in which her mother had
allowed her to mingle. She was a very handsome girl, lively and
agreeable in conversation, and had excited unusual attention for one so
young."
"How soon did she become reconciled to death? She seems now to look
forward to it, as the consummation of her hopes and joys."
"Not for many months; but she will give you an account of the change in
her feelings. I hope you will soon see her again; she has not long to
stay with us."
As we passed the house on our return, we noticed Mrs. Leighton at the
door watching for us. Frank, thinking she wished to call him, sprang
from the carriage. But she only put into his hand a little bouquet,
saying in a suppressed voice, "Caroline," at the same time waving her
hand that it was intended for me. I was very much affected at the simple
gift, and sent my thanks to the sweet girl. There was exquisite taste in
the selection--a moss rose bud--a white rose half blown, with dark green
myrtle leaves,--and a sprig of mignonette.
"It must have been hard for her," I said, "to give up this beautiful
earth, she is so fond of flowers and everything tasteful."
"Ah! but she gains heaven," was Frank's reply. This suggested to me the
following lines from a favorite poet, which I repeated to my husband.
"Once when I look'd along the laughing earth,
Up the blue heavens, and through the middle air,
Joyfully ringing with the sky-lark's song,
I wept, and thought how sad for one so young,
To bid farewell to so much happiness.
But Christ doth call me from this lower world;
Delightful though it be."
We next stopped at a house of moderate size, in which the Doctor told
me, four families found their home. Having tied the horse by the little
gate, we entered a room on the right, where a poor man lay on a bench,
or, as I afterwards saw, a long chest, upon which some quilts had been
spread to make it soft. The chest was pushed to the corner of the room,
so that, with pillows behind him, the invalid could sit almost upright.
Watching by his side was a very pretty woman, who, from her dialect, I
perceived was Welsh. Near her was a small boy of about three years of
age, sitting on a low cricket; while in a shed, opening directly out of
the room, there stood a young girl of eleven, washing.
After putting two chairs near her husband, Mrs. Lewis resumed her seat
and her sewing, as it was only by _her_ industry, the family were
supported.
Frank inquired particularly about the symptoms of his patient, and
prescribed for his relief. He then said, "I have brought my wife, as I
promised to introduce her to you." Here Mr. Lewis put out his emaciated
hand, and expressed pleasure at seeing me. Frank continued, "Mrs. Lenox
will come and read to you, if you wish, while your wife is busy."
The sick man regarded me with a look of gratitude, while his wife
replied, "I am sure t'would be a great comfort to us both, to hear a bit
of the Word. My man," she continued, "is not able to read; it makes his
eyes ache badly. I have so little time, I can only repeat a verse now
and then, to give us something to think of."
The Doctor asked Mr. Lewis if he had enjoyed more peace of mind since
his last visit.
"Sometimes," he replied in a whisper, "I can feel willing to trust
myself in the hands of God; but again all is dark, and I can't come nigh
to him. He appears a great way off, and I seem to be praying into the
air." As he closed, his breast heaved a deep sigh.
I became so much interested in him; and he so exactly described my own
feelings, at times, that I forgot any one else was present, and said,
"Oh, sir! I have often felt so; and the only way I can do, is to keep
praying, until God reveals himself to me. He does hear, and he will
answer if we keep asking, and if he sees we are in earnest."
I stopped suddenly, in great embarrassment, when Frank immediately
added, "This is the case with most Christians. Sometimes while we are
yet speaking God hears, and grants an answer of peace. Again he delays,
to try our faith and patience."
"But the prayers of the wicked are an abomination," said Mr. Lewis
feebly. "I can't feel sure that he has accepted me."
"Has his promise ever failed?" inquired the Doctor. "He says, 'call upon
me and I will answer; knock and it shall be opened.'"
The poor man put his hand to his breast, as if in great pain. Frank
feared lest we were prolonging the interview beyond his strength, and
rose to leave.
"Surely you won't go without praying for me," said Mr. Lewis.
"If you feel able to attend, I will do so with pleasure," replied the
Doctor. I was very much affected to see the sick man rise feebly, and
kneel during prayer. He wept much, and when we arose he was so exhausted
by his emotion, the Doctor and his wife were obliged to raise him to
his feet. But when he had taken some drink, he became more composed, and
said, "Thank you." "Come soon," he said to me, with a smile.
Mrs. Lewis followed us to the door, where Frank put into her hand a bank
bill; and in addition, requested her to send to our house in the morning
for some chicken broth of which he wished her husband to partake freely.
Her eyes filled with tears, and she could only look her thanks.
It was now becoming late, and we returned home. I cannot help thinking
how much good a pious physician has it in his power to do. He gains the
affections of his patients; and they will listen to religious
conversation which they would not hear from a stranger. Frank cares for
their souls as well as their bodies, especially as the one commonly
affects the other.