CLOSING UP MY LONDON AGENCY.
MY NARRATIVE PUBLISHED.--LETTER FROM HOME APPRISING ME OF
THE SICKNESS OF MY WIFE.--DEPARTURE FROM LONDON.--ARRIVAL
AT HOME.--MEETING WITH MY FAMILY.--THE GREAT SORROW OF MY
LIFE, THE DEATH OF MY WIFE.
The dinner at Lord John Russell's, as detailed in the previous
chapter, was in the month of June, 1852; from that time to the first
of August I was busily employed in finishing up all matters connected
with my agency, in which I was very successful, having accomplished
the objects of my mission. During the month of August, I was engaged
in publishing a narrative of incidents in my slave-life, which I had
been urgently requested to do by some of the noblest men and women in
England. Just as I had completed the work, and issued an edition of
two thousand copies, I received, on the third of September, a letter
from my family in Canada, stating that my beloved wife, the companion
of my life, the sharer of my joys and sorrows, lay at the point of
death, and that she earnestly desired me to return immediately, that
she might see me once more before she bid adieu to earth. This was
a trying hour for me. I was in England, four thousand miles from my
home. I had just embarked in an enterprise which I had every reason to
suppose would be a very profitable undertaking. The first edition of
my book was ready for sale, and now What shall I do? was the question
which I asked myself. Shall I remain here and sell ten thousand copies
of my book, and make a handsome sum of money for myself and family,
or shall I leave all and hasten to the bedside of my dying wife? I
was not long in deciding the question. I will leave my books and
stereotype plates, and all my property behind, and go. And on the
morning of the fourth of September, having received the letter from
home at four o'clock on the afternoon of the third, I was on my way
from London to Liverpool, and embarked from Liverpool on the fifth,
in the steamer Canada, bound for Boston. On the twentieth of the same
month I arrived at my own Canadian home. Those who have been placed
in similar situations, can realize what must have been my feelings
as I drew near my humble dwelling. I had heard nothing since the
information contained in the letter which reached me at Liverpool.
I knew not whether my dear wife, the mother of my children, she who
had travelled with me, sad and solitary, and foot-sore, from the land
of bondage; who had been to me a kind, and affectionate, and dutiful
wife, for forty years, I knew not whether she was still alive, or
whether she had entered into rest.
A merciful Father had, however, kindly prolonged her life, and we were
permitted once more to meet. And oh! such a meeting; it was worth more
to me than all the fancied gains from my English book. I was met in
the yard by four of my daughters, who rushed to my arms, delighted
at my unexpected return. They begged me not to go in to see mother,
until they should first go and prepare her for it, thinking very
wisely that the shock would be too great for her poor shattered nerves
to bear. I consented that they should precede me. They immediately
repaired to her sick room, and by gradual stages prepared her mind for
our meeting. When I went to her bedside, she received and embraced me
with the calmness and fortitude of a Christian, and even chided me
for the strong emotions of sorrow which I found it utterly impossible
to suppress. I found her perfectly calm and resigned to the will of
God, awaiting with Christian firmness the hour for her summons. She
was rejoiced to see me once more, while at the same time she said that
perhaps she had done wrong in allowing me to be sent for to return,
leaving my business behind, with all its flattering prospects. I told
her that I was more than satisfied, that I was truly thankful to my
Heavenly Father for granting us this interview, no matter what the
pecuniary sacrifice might be. We talked over our whole past life
as far as her strength would permit, reviewing the many scenes of
sorrow and trouble, as well as the many bright and happy days of our
pilgrimage, until exhausted nature sought repose, and she sunk into a
quiet sleep.
The day following she revived; my return seeming to inspire her with
the hope that possibly she might again be restored to health. It was
not, however, so to be; but God in his mercy granted her a reprieve,
and her life was prolonged a few weeks. I thus had the melancholy
satisfaction of watching day and night by her bed of languishing and
pain, and was permitted to close her eyes when the final summons came.
She blessed me, and blessed her children, commending us to the ever
watchful care of that Saviour who had sustained her in so many hours
of trial; and finally, after kissing me and each one of the children,
she passed from earth to heaven without a pang or a groan, as gently
as the falling to sleep of an infant on its mother's breast.
"Who would not wish to die like those
Whom God's own spirit deigns to bless?
To sink into that soft repose,
Then wake to perfect happiness?"
I can truly and from an overflowing heart say, that she was a sincere
and devoted Christian, and a faithful and kind wife to me, even up
to the day of her death arranging all our domestic matters in such
a manner as to contribute as largely as possible to my comfort and
happiness.
Rest in peace, dear wife. If I am faithful to the end, as thou wert,
we shall ere long meet again in that world where the sorrows of life
shall not be remembered or brought into mind.