"O blessed, happy child, to find
The God of heaven so near and kind!"
It was Sabbath afternoon. In the large dining-room at Ion a Bible-reading
was being held, Mr. Dinsmore leading, every member of the household, down
to the servants, who occupied the lower end of the apartment, bearing a
share in the exercises; as also Lester, Elsie, and Evelyn from Fairview,
and representatives from the other three families belonging to the
connection, and the Keith cousins, who had arrived at Ion a few days
before.
The portion of Scripture under consideration was the interview of
Nicodemus with the Master when he came to Him by night (St. John iii.),
the subject, of course, the necessity of the new birth, God's appointed
way of salvation, and the exceeding greatness of His love in giving His
only-begotten Son to die "that whosoever believeth in Him should not
perish, but have everlasting life."
Each one able to read had an open Bible, and even Gracie and little
Walter listened with understanding and interest.
She whom the one called mamma, the other Grandma Elsie, had talked with
them that morning on the same subject, and tenderly urged upon them--as
often before--the duty of coming to Christ, telling them of His love to
little children, and that they were not too young to give themselves to
Him; and Mr. Dinsmore addressed a few closing words to them in the same
strain.
They fell into Gracie's heart as seed sown in good ground. When the
reading had come to an end and she felt herself unobserved, she slipped
quietly away to her mamma's dressing-room, where she was not likely to be
disturbed, and sat down to think more profoundly and seriously than ever
before in her short life.
She went over "the old, old story," and tears stole down her cheeks as
she whispered to herself, "And it was for me He died that dreadful death;
for me just as truly as if it hadn't been for anybody else; and yet I've
lived all this long while without loving Him, or trying to do right for
the sake of pleasing Him.
"And how often I've been invited to come! Papa has told me about it over
and over again; mamma too, and Grandma Elsie; and I haven't minded what
they said at all. Oh, how patient and kind Jesus has been to wait so long
for me to come! And He is still waiting and inviting me to come; just as
kindly and lovingly as if it was the very first time, and I hadn't been
turning away from Him.
"He is right here, looking at me, and listening for what I will say in
answer to His call. Oh, I won't keep Him waiting any longer, lest He
should go away and never invite me again; and because I do love Him for
dying for me, and for being so good and kind to me all my life--giving me
every blessing I have--and keeping on inviting me, over and over, when I
wouldn't even listen to His voice.
"I'll go to Him now. Grandma Elsie said just to kneel down and feel that
I am kneeling at His feet, and tell Him all about my sins, and how sorry
I am, exactly as if I could see Him, and ask Him to forgive my sins and
wash them all away in His precious blood, and take me for His very own
child to be His forever, and serve Him always--in this world, and in
heaven when he takes me there. Yes, I will do it now."
With the resolve she rose from the chair where she had been sitting, and
kneeling before it with clasped hands and closed eyes, from which
penitent tears stole down her cheeks, said, in low, reverent tones, "Dear
Lord Jesus, I'm only a little girl and very full of sin; I've done a
great many bad things in my life, and haven't done the good things I knew
I ought to do; and I have a very bad heart that doesn't want to do right.
Oh, please make it good; oh, please take away all the wickedness that is
in me; wash me in Thy precious blood, so that I shall be clean and pure
in Thy sight. Forgive me for living so long without loving Thee, when
I've known all the time about Thy great love to me. Help me to love Thee
now and forever more; I give myself to Thee to be all thine forever and
forever. Amen."
Her prayer was ended, yet she did not at once rise from her kneeling
posture; it was so sweet to linger there at the Master's feet; she
remembered and trusted His promise, "Him that cometh to Me I will in no
wise cast out," and almost she could hear His dear voice saying in
tenderest tones, "Daughter, thy sins, which are many, are forgiven thee."
"I love them that love Me, and those that seek Me early shall find Me."
She seemed to feel the touch of His hand laid in blessing on her head,
and her heart sang for joy.
Meanwhile the older children had gathered about Aunt Chloe, now seated in
a back veranda--the weather being still warm enough for the outer air to
be very pleasant at that time of day--and Rosie, as spokesman of the
party, begged coaxingly for stories of mamma when she was a little girl.
"It's de Lawd's day, chillens," answered the old woman in a doubtful
tone.
"Yes, mammy," acknowledged Rosie, "but you can easily make your story fit
for Sunday; mamma was so good--a real Christian child, as you have often
told me."
"So she was, chile, so she was; I's sho' she lub de Lawd, from de bery
day her ole mammy fus' tole her how He lub her. Yes, you right, Miss
Rosie; I kin tole you 'bout her, and 'twon't break de Sabbath day. Is yo'
all hyar now?" she asked, glancing inquiringly about.
"All but Gracie," said Rosie, glancing round the little circle in her
turn. "I wonder where she is. Betty," to a little negro maid standing in
the rear, "go and find Miss Gracie, and ask if she doesn't want to hear
the stories mammy is going to tell us."
"Yes, Miss Rosie, whar you s'pose Miss Gracie done gone?" drawled the
little maid, standing quite still and pulling at one of the short woolly
braids scattered here and there over her head.
"I don't know. Go and look for her," returned Rosie, somewhat
imperiously. "Now hurry," she added, "or there won't be time for all
mammy has to tell."
"Wisht I know whar Miss Gracie done gone," sighed Betty, reluctantly
obeying.
"I saw her going upstairs," said Lulu; "so it's likely you'll find her in
Mamma Vi's rooms."
At that Betty quickened her pace, and the next moment was at Violet's
dressing-room door, peeping in and asking, "You dar, Miss Gracie?"
"Yes," Grace answered, turning toward her a face so full of gladness that
Betty's eyes opened wide in astonishment, and stepping in she asked
wonderingly, "What--what de mattah, Miss Gracie? yo' look like yo' done
gone foun' a gol' mine, or jes' sumfin' mos' like dat."
"Better still, Betty: I've found the Lord Jesus; I love Him and He loves
me," Gracie said, her eyes shining, "and oh, I am so glad, so happy!"
"Whar yo' fin' Him, Miss Gracie?" queried Betty in increasing wonder and
astonishment, and glancing searchingly round the room. "Is He hyar?"
"Yes; for He is God and is everywhere."
"Oh, dat de way He hyar? Yes, I knows 'bout dat; Miss Elsie tole me lots
ob times. How yo' know He lub yo', Miss Gracie?"
"Because He says so, Betty.
"'Jesus loves me; this I know,
For the Bible tell me so.'"
"Yo's wanted down stairs, Miss Gracie," said Betty, bethinking herself of
her errand. "Ole Aunt Chloe gwine tell 'bout old times when missus bery
little and lib way off down Souf. Bettah come right 'long; kase Miss
Rosie she in pow'ful big hurry fo' Aunt Chloe begin dat story."
"Oh yes; I never get tired hearing mammy tell that; Grandma Elsie was
such a dear little girl," Grace said, making haste to obey the summons.
The others had already gathered closely about Aunt Chloe, but the circle
promptly widened to receive Grace, and the moment she had taken her seat
the story began, opening with the birth of its subject.
There were many little reminiscences of her infancy and early childhood,
very interesting to all the listeners. The narrator dwelt at length upon
the evidences of early piety shown in the child's life, and Aunt Chloe
remarked, "Yo' needn't be 'fraid, chillens, ob bein' too good to lib: my
darlin' was de bes' chile eber I see, and yo' know she has lib to see her
chillen and her gran'chillens."
"I'm not at all afraid of it," remarked Rosie. "People who are certainly
don't know or don't believe what the Bible teaches on that point; for it
says, 'My son, forget not My law; but let thine heart keep My
commandments; for length of days, and long life, and peace shall they add
to thee.'"
"And there's a promise of long life and prosperity to all who keep the
fifth commandment," said Max.
"'So far as it shall serve for God's glory and their own good,'" added
Evelyn, softly.
"Dat's so, chillens," said Aunt Chloe; "an' yo' ole mammy hopes ebery one
ob yo's gwine try it all de days ob yo' life."
"Yes, we're goin' to, mammy; so now tell us some more," said Walter,
coaxingly; "tell about the time when the poor little girl that's my mamma
now had to go away and leave her pretty home."
"Yaas, chile, dat wur a sad time," said the old woman, reflectively; "it
mos' broke de little chile heart to hab to leab dat home whar she been
borned, an' all de darkies dat lub her like dar life."
She went on to describe the parting, then to tell of the journey, and was
just beginning with the life at Roselands, when the summons came to the
tea-table.
"We'll come back to hear the rest after tea, mammy, if you're not too
tired," Rosie said as she turned to go.
But on coming back they found no one on the veranda but Betty, who, in
answer to their inquiries, said, "Aunt Chloe hab entired fo' de night;
she hab de misery in de back and in de head, and she cayn't tell no mo'
stories fo' mawning."
"Poor old soul!" said Evelyn, compassionately; "I'm afraid we've tired
her out."
"Oh no, not at all," answered Rosie; "she likes nothing better than
talking about mamma. You never saw anything like her devotion; I verily
believe she'd die for mamma without a moment's hesitation."
Most of the house-servants at Ion occupied cabins of their own at no
great distance from the mansion, but Aunt Chloe, the faithful nurse of
three generations, was domiciled in a most comfortable apartment not far
from those of the mistress to whom she was so dear; and Elsie never laid
her own head upon its pillow till she had paid a visit to mammy's room to
see that she wanted for nothing that could contribute to ease of body or
mind.
This night, stealing softly in, she found her lying with closed eyes and
hands meekly folded across her breast, and, thinking she slept, would
have gone away again as quietly as she came; but the loved voice recalled
her.
"Dat yo', honey? Don' go; yo' ole mammy's got somefin to say; and de time
is short, 'kase the chariot-wheels dey's rollin' fas', fas' dis way to
carry yo' ole mammy home to glory."
"Dear mammy," Elsie said with emotion, laying her hand tenderly on the
sable brow, "are you feeling weaker or in any way worse than usual?"
"Dunno, honey, but I hear de Master callin', an' I's ready to follow
whereber He leads; eben down into de valley ob de shadow ob death. I's
close to de riber; Is hear de soun' ob de wattahs ripplin' pas'; but de
eberlastin' arms is underneath, an' I sho' to git safe ober to de oder
side."
"Yes, dear mammy, I know you will," Elsie answered in moved tones. "I
know you will come off more than conqueror through Him who loved you with
an everlasting love."
"'Peat dat verse to yo' ole mammy, honey," entreated the trembling,
feeble voice.
"What verse, mammy dear? 'Who shall separate us'?"
"Yes, darlin', dat's it! an' de res' dat comes after, whar de 'postle say
he 'suaded dat deff nor nuffin else cayn't separate God's chillen from de
love ob Christ."
Elsie complied, adding at the close of the quotation, "Such precious
words! How often you and I have rejoiced over them together, mammy!"
"'Deed we hab, honey; an' we's gwine rejoice in dem togeder beside de
great white throne. Now yo' go an' take yo' res', darlin', an' de Lawd
gib yo' sweet sleep."
"I can't leave you, mammy if you are suffering; you must let me sit
beside you and do what is in my power to relieve or help you to forget
your pain."
"No, chile, no; de miseries am all gone an' I's mighty comfor'able, bery
happy, too, hearin' de soun' ob de chariot-wheels and tinking I's soon be
in de bressed lan' whar de miseries an' de sins am all done gone foreber;
an' whar ole Uncle Joe an' de bressed Master is waitin' to 'ceive me wid
songs ob joy and gladness."
Thus reassured, and perceiving no symptom of approaching dissolution,
Elsie returned to her own apartments and was soon in bed and asleep.
In accordance with an Ion rule which Lulu particularly disliked, the
children had gone to their rooms an hour or more in advance of the older
people.
Grace still slept with her mamma in her father's absence, but often made
her preparations for bed in her sister's room, that they might chat
freely together of whatever was uppermost in their minds.
To-night they were no sooner shut in there, away from other eyes and
ears, than Grace put her arms round Lulu's neck, saying, while her face
shone with gladness, "Oh, Lu, I have something to tell you!"
"Have you?" Lulu answered. "Then it must be something good; for in all
your life I never saw you look so very, very happy. Oh, is it news from
papa? Is he coming home on another visit?" she cried with a sudden, eager
lighting up of her face.
The brightness of Grace's dimmed a trifle as she replied, "No, not that;
they would never let him come again so soon. Oh, how I wish he was here!
for he would be so glad of it too; almost as glad as I am, I think."
"Glad of what?" asked Lulu.
"That I've given my heart to Jesus. Oh, Lulu, won't you do it too? it is
so easy if you only just try."
"Tell me about it; how did you do it?" Lulu asked gravely, her eyes cast
down, a slight frown upon her brow.
"I did just as Grandma Elsie told us this morning. You know, Lu?"
"Yes, I remember. But how do you know that you were heard and accepted?"
"Why, Lulu!" was the surprised reply, "the Bible tells us God is the
hearer and answerer of prayer--it's in one of the verses I've learned to
say to Grandma Elsie since I came here. And Jesus says: 'Him that cometh
unto Me I will in nowise cast out;' so of course He received me. How
could I help knowing it?"
"You've got far ahead of me," Lulu said, with petulance born of an uneasy
conscience, as she released herself from Grace's arms and began
undressing with great energy and despatch.
"You needn't feel that way, Lu," Grace said pleadingly; "Jesus is just as
willing to take you for His child as me."
"I don't believe it!" cried Lulu, with almost fierce impatience; "you've
always been good, and I've always been bad. I don't see why I wasn't made
patient and sweet-tempered too; it's no trouble to you to behave and keep
rules and all that, but I can't; try as hard as I will."
"Oh, Lulu, Jesus will help you to be good if you ask Him and try as hard
as you can, too," Grace said in tender, pleading tones.
"But suppose I don't want to be good?"
Grace's eyes opened wide in grieved surprise, then filled with tears.
"Oh, Lulu!" she said; "but I'm sure you do want to be good sometimes. And
can't Jesus help you to want to always? won't He if you ask Him?"
"I'm tired of the subject, and it's time for you to go to bed," was the
ungracious rejoinder.
Usually so unkind a rebuff from her sister would have caused Grace a fit
of crying, but she was too happy for that to-night. She slipped quietly
away into her mamma's rooms, and when ready for bed came to the door
again with a pleasant "Good-night, Lulu, and happy dreams!"
Lulu, already repentant, sprang to meet her with outstretched arms.
"Good-night, you dear little thing!" she exclaimed with a hug and kiss.
"I wish you had a better sort of a sister. Perhaps you will some day,--in
little Elsie."
"I love you dearly, dearly, Lu!" was the affectionate rejoinder,
accompanied by a hearty return of the embrace.
"I wish mamma would come up, for I want to tell her; 'cause I know it
will make her glad too," Grace said to herself as she got into bed. "I
mean to stay awake till she comes."
But scarcely had the little curly head touched the pillow ere its owner
was fast asleep, and so the communication was deferred till morning.
When Violet came into the room she stepped softly to the bedside, and
bending over the sleeping child gazed with tender scrutiny into the fair
young face.
"The darling!" she murmured, "what a passing sweet and peaceful
expression she wears! I noticed it several times during the evening; a
look as if some great good had come to her."
A very gentle kiss was laid on the child's forehead, and Violet passed on
into Lulu's room, moved by a motherly solicitude to see that all was well
with this one of her husband's children also.
The face that rested on the pillow was round and rosy with youth and
health, the brow was unruffled, yet the countenance lacked the exceeding
sweet expression of her sister's.
Violet kissed her also, and Lulu, half opening her sleepy eyes, murmured,
"Mamma Vi you're very good and kind," and with the last word was fast
asleep again.
Mrs. Elsie Travilla rose earlier the next morning than her wont,--a vague
uneasiness oppressing her in regard to her aged nurse,--and waiting
only to don dressing-gown and slippers went softly to Aunt Chloe's
bedside; but finding her sleeping peacefully, she returned as quietly
as she had come, thinking to pay another visit before descending to the
breakfast-room.
Only a few minutes had passed, however, when the little maid Betty came
rushing unceremoniously in, her eyes wild with affright. "Missus,
missus," she cried, "suffin de mattah wid ole Aunt Chloe; she--"
Elsie waited to hear no more, but pushing past the child, flew to the
rescue.
But one glance at the aged face told her that no human help could avail;
the seal of death was on it.
A great wave of sorrow swept over her at the sight, but she was outwardly
calm and composed as, taking the cold hand in hers, she asked, "Dear
mammy, is it peace?"
"Yes, chile, yes," came in feeble yet assured accents from the dying
lips; "an' I's almos' dar; a po' ole sinnah saved by grace. Good-by,
honey; we's meet again at de Master's feet, neber to part mo mo'!"
One or two long-drawn gasping breaths followed and the aged pilgrim had
entered into rest.
At the same instant a strong arm was passed round Elsie's waist, while a
manly voice said tenderly, "We will not grieve for her, dear daughter,
for all her pains, all her troubles are over, and she has been gathered
home like a shock of corn fully ripe."
"Yes, dear father, but let me weep a little; not for her, but for
myself," Elsie said, suffering him to draw her head to a resting-place
upon his breast.
In the mean while Violet and Grace had wakened from sleep, and the little
girl had told of her new-found happiness, meeting with the joyful
sympathy which she had expected.
"Dear Gracie," Violet said, taking the little girl in her arms and
kissing her tenderly, "you are a blessed, happy child in having so early
chosen the better part which shall never be taken away from you. Jesus
will be your friend all your life, be it long or short; a friend that
sticketh closer than a brother; who will never leave nor forsake you, but
will love you with an everlasting love, tenderer than a mother's, and be
always near and mighty to help and save in every time of trouble and
distress."
"Oh, mamma," said Grace, "how good and kind He is to let me love Him! I
wish I could do something to please Him; what could I do, mamma?"
"He said to His disciples, 'If ye love Me, keep My commandments;' and He
says the same to you and me, Gracie, dear," Violet answered.
"I will try, mamma; and won't you help me?"
"All I can, dear. Now it is time for us to rise."
They had nearly completed their toilet when a tap at the door was
followed by the entrance of Violet's mother, looking grave and sad, and
with traces of tears about her eyes.
"Mamma, what is it?" Violet asked anxiously.
"Our dear old mammy is gone, daughter," Elsie answered, the tears
beginning to fall again; "gone home to glory. I do not weep for her, but
for myself. You know what she was to me."
"Yes, mamma, dearest, I am very sorry for you; but for her it should be
all joy, should it not? Life can have been little but a burden, to her
for some years past, and now she is at God's right hand where there are
pleasures forever more."
Elsie assented; and sitting down, gave a full account of what had passed
between Aunt Chloe and herself the previous night, and of the death-scene
this morning.
"What a long, long journey hers has been!" remarked Violet; "but she has
reached home at last. And here, mamma," drawing Grace forward, "is a
little pilgrim who has but just passed through the wicket-gate, and begun
to travel the strait and narrow way."
"Is it so, Gracie? It makes my heart glad to hear it," Elsie said, taking
the child in her arms in a tender, motherly fashion. "You are none too
young to begin to love and serve the Lord Jesus; and it's a blessed
service. I found it such when I was a child like you, and such I have
found it all the way that I have traveled since."