Little Emmie, the Mountain Prisoner: Or The Father's Care
Unknown Author
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Childhood of Elizabeth
ELIZABETH was the only daughter of Christian Myers, a Hebrew of the tribe of Benjamin. The records of his genealogy were carefully preserved by his father, Hyam, as well as at the chief synagogue. Christian was given this name at a baptismal font in the Church of England, in commemoration of his being the first child born after his parents' conversion to Christianity.
For six months they had read in secret the New Testament, unknown to each other; but the mighty truths revealed in that precious volume, the Spirit of God used in convicting them of sin, and thus showing them that the endless rites of the Mosaic ritual could never atone for their guilt, and at last He revealed the Nazarene as their long-expected Messiah, as their Jehovah, their Savior-God.
It was no light thing for these two to confess Jesus, for it entailed being cut off by their family, and mourned for as dead. In after years, when Christian was a youth, he met his father's brother, who wept over the boy, and with his hand on the lad's head, looking in pity down upon him, said, "Is this my poor brother Hyam's child?" The writer, through whose veins the blood of Abraham flows, has often heard Christian repeat this story. Well does she remember the raven locks of this son of Abraham, and the expression of his face when repeating stories of his people.
Hyam by his confession sacrificed wealth and family, but possessing a good education, he was able to maintain his wife and children in comfort by his labors in the mercantile world. Christian, too, followed his father's footsteps, and at the commencement of our story, Elizabeth was a child of ten, living in her parental home, a pretty villa in a suburb of one of our commercial cities.
Christian married a Gentile maiden. Both, at the time of their marriage, were only Christians in name; but ere the birth of Elizabeth her mother found out a Savior's love, and she thus became more interested in her husband's people, and she delighted to search the scriptures until the time came that few women knew more of them than she. Thus Elizabeth was early blessed in having a Christian mother.
Early did she lisp the precious name of Jesus; early was she taught a Savior's love. Her father, too, became a follower of the "Nazarene," no doubt in answer to his wife's oft-repeated prayers; and for many years after (when he fully believed that Christ our Passover had been sacrificed) would his aged grandsire, who died in the faith of his fathers, go to Christian's house and burn the bone of the paschal lamb.
No word was ever uttered; but it was believed that this aged patriarch thought by so doing that Christian and his family partook of the blessing, and when this aged Hebrew was passing from the confines of this transitory scene the day on which he died was the Day of Atonement-not a morsel would he allow to pass his lips, not a drop of wine to moisten them. His constant prayer was that he might pass into Abraham's Bosom (the place of the departed) on the Day of Atonement, with all his sins forgiven him, as on that day he believed the sins of the past year were forgiven. He did die on that day, just as the sun was sinking in the western horizon. Would that he had known the Sun of Righteousness in all His healing power. The reader will wonder why this Hebrew had intercourse with his Christian relatives. The Jew says that the children cannot help what their parents do, so therefore are not responsible. Whatever were his faults, he was a godly Jew, "he walked in the law blameless," a pattern to many in acting up to his belief. Alas! that the outward life of so many denies what the lips utter.
Elizabeth's countenance, although a child, showed clearly from what race she sprang. Her dark eyes and hair, and sad, far-off look, indeed her whole appearance showed to an observer that she was one of Judah's daughters. While still young she disliked to be thought a Jewess, and one day when her father introduced her to a Jew, the latter said very warmly, "I thought she belonged to our nation," his quick eagle eye soon detected the look of annoyance on Elizabeth's face, and he said, "Are you ashamed to belong to our nation? Do not one half the world worship a Jew, and the other a Jewess, the Nazarene and Mary?”
In after years, however, when Elizabeth's heart was touched with the love of her Redeemer, when she knew the scriptures not only in the letter but in the spirit thereof, she felt glad that she belonged to that ancient people. We are glad to know that soul-stirring truth: "Dead and risen with Christ;" but still the heart glows with fervor when thinking that there are kindred ties with God's favored people, and there is an inward feeling of satisfaction in knowing that down-trodden Jerusalem will once again be queen of nations.
The Redeemer wept over that city. Within its gates some of His mightiest works were done; and without its gates He offered up Himself to God, and soon will come the time when He, the true King Solomon, will sit on David's throne, and that throne will stand forever, when they will look upon Him whom they have pierced. But He will comfort His people, like Joseph of old his brethren. The mighty temple will rear its head once more. What a scene of magnificence did that Roman soldier cause to crumble when he threw the firebrand into its midst! An ancient writer says, as a traveler on horseback towards sunset mounted the hill, when the sun in all his bold majestic beauty shed its rays on its gold-covered walls and pillars, such a sea of glory was revealed that no traveler could easily forget. But, blessed be His name, many a son and daughter of Judah have found out another temple, another building of God, eternal in the heavens, where the Sun of Righteousness will shed His golden beams.
Through disappointments in business, together with physical causes, the once stalwart frame of Christian Myers soon succumbed, and in a few months Elizabeth was left fatherless. Well does she remember that lovely spring day when the remains of her dear father were committed to their last resting-place,
“Till Christ his precious dust will take,
And freshly mold.”
What a crowd was around that grave! some out of sympathy for the mourners, others from morbid curiosity to see the interment of the converted Jew.
At the grave Christian's favorite hymn was sung, a hymn in which his rich bass voice had often joined, with the accompaniment of his father's flute often the family would unite in singing it, standing in the well-staircase of Christian's home, and as the notes ascended higher and higher, they would think of the time,
“When, in a nobler, sweeter song,”
they would sing His power to save. Hebrew voices will swell that chorus, and among them will Christian's blend:
“Not all the blood of beasts,
On Jewish altars slain,
Could give the guilty conscience peace,
Or wash away its stain.
“But Christ, the heavenly Lamb,
Took all our guilt away;
A sacrifice of nobler name,
And richer blood than they.
“Believing, I rejoice
To see the curse removed,
And bless the Lamb with cheerful voice,
And sing redeeming love.”
Elizabeth, as she stood at the grave, had the comfort of knowing that she would meet her loved parent again, where partings are unknown.
“Yes, we part, but not forever;
Joyful hopes our bosoms fill;
They who love the Lord, no never
Know a long, a last farewell.”
Just before his departure to that "Better Land," his prayer had been that it might be well with all his loved ones; but in the midst he broke off saying, "I will not pray that it might be well, for I know that it will be. All was well, all is well, and all will be well." On the tomb-stone that marked his last resting-place were the words: —
CHRISTIAN MYERS,
WHO FELL ASLEEP IN JESUS.
“It is well.”
How true that hymn:
“Asleep in Jesus, blessed sleep,
From which none ever wakes to weep,
A calm and undisturbed repose,
Unbroken by the last of foes.”
All, indeed, was well with the fatherless girl, and in after years, when she trod on foreign shores, her father's God was with her still, and how often there did her voice pour forth the strains:—
“Guide me, oh! Thou great Jehovah,
Pilgrim through this barren land.
I am weak, but Thou art mighty.
Guide me with Thy powerful hand,
Bread of heaven,
Feed me till T want no more.”
He did guide, and will guide her still, even unto the end.
She and her mother could not now command the comforts they had been accustomed to, still they had enough; so they removed to a pretty cottage in a village in Devonshire. Here did mother and daughter spend many happy days. Elizabeth loved to listen to her mother's recitals of her father's people. Her eye would kindle, and her heart burn within her, thankful that she was sheltered beneath the blood-stained lintel. She knew that her Savior had reared the crystal walls of salvation for her, and dry-shod she had passed within their confines safe unto the other shore. How she wished that her people could say so too.
Her mother told her that her grandfather would recite his daily prayers, and while doing so, owing to their length, his tired body would have to lean against some article of furniture for support.
He thought the number of his prayers would gain him favor with God. How that Elizabeth's aunt, Christian's eldest sister, who had been brought up in the Jewish faith, had found out the love of her Savior, and that now both brother and sister were roaming the courts of the heavenly Jerusalem.
The days passed smoothly and pleasantly on, till Elizabeth left her mother's home for that of her husband, and her mother went to live with her only son, who was residing in the north of England. He was several years Elizabeth's senior, had been married while she was a girl at school; so for this reason, Elizabeth and her mother for many years were alone.
Chapter 2: Elizabeth's Marriage
ELIZABETH and her mother attended a meeting of Christians, where the latter, when she was bereaved, was led. On first entering this unpretentious building she heard that hymn:
“From every stormy wind that blows,
From every swelling tide of woes,
There is a calm, a sweet retreat,
'Tis found before the mercy-seat.”
A Christian man spoke on the text, "He is not here but risen." She had been looking at the grave of her dear departed one; but now these comforting words sent peace into her soul.
One Sunday, a tall, fair stranger, with his Bible under his arm, entered. He wore a heaven-born expression, so calm and peaceful. After the meeting was over, his eye fell upon Elizabeth. He made inquiries about her, as her appearance interested him, more especially her sad expression. It was so different from his own restful face. He early learned to trust a Father's care; but Elizabeth had to wade through deep waters ere she could so trust. Edward N., the stranger in question, was a tutor in a gentleman's school. He was the son of Christian parents, who were Baptists. He himself was a Christian, but a worldly one.
On first leaving home, he went as a master in a school, where the principal, a dissenting minister, so stumbled Edward by his life during the week, being so different from that he preached in the pulpit on Sundays, that he gave notice to leave, and sought an appointment elsewhere. He was successful in obtaining a situation where the principal was not only a Christian in name, but in life also. He met with others on the Lord's Day to break bread as the apostles did of old.
Edward was expected to attend with the boys. He in wonder looked on, and wrote that same day to his father, telling him that he did not know with what sort of people he was living now. He thought they must be Quakers. However, he soon afterward was led to see that they were doing the right thing in meeting thus, and he cast in his lot with them.
When the summer vacation arrived he went to his boyhood's home, and as there were none in the village who met as he had been accustomed, he walked four miles to a neighboring town, the place where Elizabeth resided, and thus they met. He was invited to dine at the house of a friend of Elizabeth, and there, in the afternoon, she and her mother saw him. The following week he called on them, and that first evening she joined him at the piano in singing:—
“How good is the God we adore,
Our faithful, unchangeable Friend,
Whose love is as great as His power,
And knows neither measure nor end.
“'Tis Jesus, the First and the Last,
Whose Spirit shall guide me safe home,
We'll praise Him for all that is past,
And trust Him for all that's to come.”
In after years these two called this hymn "Our hymn," but little did they then know what they would be called to pass through to prove His love and power.
This friendship ripened into love. "No wealth or power had he," but he had a willing mind to work. He trusted his heavenly Friend. One day Elizabeth received a letter from Edward asking her to be his companion along the pilgrim way. She accepted, and married him, but against the wish of her mother, as Edward was poor. The mother liked him much; but she dreaded hardships for her daughter. She has since learned, however, that trusting Jehovah instead of riches may bring trials of faith; but a rich harvest is reaped thereby in having opportunities of seeing Jehovah's hand extended for his people's good.
Edward furnished a small but pretty cottage, and although these two had little of this world's goods, they had the upholder of the universe as theirs, and they knew that when this passing world was done, there was an inheritance that was undefiled reserved in heaven for them. What a halo of grandeur around that word, inheritance! In having Christ we inherit all things.
Edward was thankful on leaving the train, to see his loved home from the bridge beyond. And in the month of May it looked especially pretty, with its overhanging bushes of pink and white hawthorn. No need for hand to be lifted to the knocker, for eager eyes were watching for that well-known form.
On the evening of the arrival of these two in their new home, they sang together: —
“Jerusalem, my happy home,
Name ever dear to me,
When shall my labors have an end,
And I, thy glories see.”
Neither thought how soon one of them might be called to roam those courts; but we are anticipating. Three years passed away in happiness; but at last Edward began to wear a look of pallor; a slight cough, too, made his wife very anxious. The thought was very distressing, but she, willing that he should try anything for his benefit, persuaded him to take a doctor's advice and go abroad. So they contemplated going to an island in the southern seas. They had a little girl, a sweet child of two summers, and the father was often heard to say, "To depart and to be with the Lord would be far better; but for the sake of my wife and child, I feel I ought to take my doctor's advice." So in a short time parents and child sailed for the southern seas.
Chapter 3: Going Abroad
EDWARD, his wife, and Emmie, went together for the last time to the home of Edward's boyhood, and after a few days set out for the great Metropolis. It was requisite to find a lodging for the night before going on board, so about ten minutes before the train steamed into the terminus, Edward, his faith being always so simple, and such a bright example to Elizabeth, said, "Let us ask the Lord to direct us to a lodging." And on passing down a street they bent their footsteps in the direction of a lodging-house, and a clean, homely person received them, and on being informed of their so quickly leaving England, she showed the lonely emigrants no little kindness; but what was better still, the woman was a Christian. She was a member of the Church of England, but worship where she may, she was a member of the Church of Christ, that invisible one, that none can sever. After a comfortable meal in a pleasant parlor, Elizabeth was shown to her room, and there over the mantel-shelf was that beautiful text in large type, "Rest in the Lord." Turn which way she would, her eyes fell back on those precious words. In the dim hours of night, by the lowered gaslight would she behold those words, and when on the stormy deep, that soul-refreshing text would cheer her saddened spirit.
On the morning of September 26th, 188—, the parents and child left the London Docks in the ship R—. Many prayers ascended far and near for the safety of that vessel, for a large number of her living freight were not only bound for the southern seas, but were also bound for the evergreen shore, and were in that vessel, with Jesus at the helm, who was guiding them towards that blissful haven:
“We are out on the ocean sailing,
To a land that hath no storms.”
This was not the case with that mighty ship R., for when off the coast of Africa, one morning about five o'clock, a tornado arose, and the noise of falling timber, &c., awoke Elizabeth. To her oft repeated question, to her husband, could she get no direct reply. He was ever anxious to save Elizabeth trouble; but she heard the steward inform a passenger that a tornado had arisen. All hearts quailed; but "Rest in the Lord" again came to Elizabeth. She thought it was about the time when many at home would be offering prayer for her safety, and those dear to her, she fell into a sound slumber, calmed by this assurance.
The little one, too, slept far beyond her usual hour, while Edward sat in his chair and calmly rested on his God. No breakfast was taken that morning by any of the passengers, and Elizabeth did not awake till the storm was over. The sun was shedding his glittering rays on the calm waters beneath. Often did Elizabeth repeat that beautiful hymn of Charles Wesley, in the dark hours of the night, as she lay in her berth listening to the mighty waves dashing up against the side of the ship:—
“Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to thy bosom fly,
While the billows near me roll
While the tempest still is high.”
The evenings were spent by Christians of every class, meeting in the evening in the steerage for prayer, and the reading of God's word, a Church of England clergyman, Wesleyans, Presbyterians, &c., all meeting on one common ground. A Christian steward was heard to say, such a sight he had never seen before; not in that vessel, at any rate. There is One above who knows the good received and done at those meetings, and all of that little Christian band are scattered now, but—
“Though sundered far, by faith they meet
Before one common Mercy Seat.”
On this vessel sped in her hourly course, till again a storm appeared. The heavens were black and ominous. The cold south wind penetrated everywhere; but again the mighty Creator heard the cries of His people, and spoke peace to the troubled ocean, and soon the lovely island of Tasmania was sighted, where the vessel touched for some hours.
Such an Eden did the port seem to all the lovely terraces, villas, and beautiful gardens.
The blue vault of heaven above, looking down on the calm waters of the harbor. With such a sight from the deck, one would have scarcely realized that the vessel had so recently battled with gigantic waves. After the storm, how sweet the peace, and if earth can afford such experiences, what must our feelings be when our vessel is anchored safely in the fair Eden above.
Again the vessel struck out for the ocean wave, and in a few days our emigrants were landed safely in a harbor of a lovely island. The harbor itself was enclosed by steep rugged hills, with here and there a group of houses of a very primitive appearance.
Edward and his little family landed and started for the chief town of the island with only a few coins, and not an earthly friend. He had, however, his heavenly Friend, and what needed he more. The emigrants arrived at the town, and put up for the night at a second-rate boarding house.
The following day Edward sought for a cottage where he might live and store his boxes, till he could find employment. He was successful, and the landlady who lived in the next house, invited him and his little family to go at once to her house till his own could be made somewhat comfortable. Elizabeth on hearing of the kind invitation, soon got herself and little one ready to go to this good woman. She gave them a hearty welcome, and when Elizabeth was taken to her room, she saw hanging on a wall in a homely frame, "True religion is to visit the fatherless and widow in their affliction, and to keep ourselves unspotted from the world.”
The lonely emigrants soon found out that they were in the house of Christian people, and although refinement and English comfort were wanting there, yet true and noble hearts were in that little home, as after events proved.
Four days later the little family entered the cottage that they were to call home. They thought that their boxes would have to serve as chairs for many a day; but when they entered, a blazing fire was in the grate and a small table in the center of the little parlor, two chairs and snowy curtains hanging from the windows, all put there by this kind-hearted christian woman.
Edward sallied forth to get some eatables—not quite so much at home in this occupation as in teaching the rising generation. He soon returned, however, when the trio partook of their first meal in their colonial home. Such feelings of thankfulness arose from the hearts of the parents, that no words could ever express. Now in truth did they sing: —
“How good is the God we adore,
Our faithful, unchangeable Friend,
Whose love is as great as His power,
And knows neither measure nor end.”
He had showed his power by bringing the emigrants across the stormy deep, and although He is the upholder of the vast universe, His love could come down to touch the heart of this poor woman to show His children kindness. May a rich reward be in store for all she did for Edward and those dear to him.
He applied to the Colonial Board of Education for a school. Many candidates were already in the field, but Edward believed that his Father and God could give him an appointment if it were good for him. And so he calmly rested in child-like faith.
A few weeks passed away, and one day on returning from a visit to a neighboring town, when the travelers unlocked the door of their lowly abode, Edward saw lying on the floor a letter, and on opening it, to his wondering gaze, he read that he was appointed master of a small school near the bush, on the mountains, with a salary of £100 a year, and a house to live in. Such was his Father's care over him. What thanksgiving arose that night from hearts glowing with gratitude to Him "whose love is as great as His power, and knows neither measure nor end.”
Chapter 4: The Cottage on the Mountain
EDWARD went on first, to prepare the house for Elizabeth. It was situated on the side of a mountain, about sixty miles from the town in which they were now living.
Edward arranged to return part of the way to meet his wife and child.
The morning he arrived at his mountain home was very cold, with rain and sleet falling, and thus hiding magnificent scenery. The house was a wooden shanty, and one built many years ago; it was so different from the modern ones. The garden, in front, was overgrown with weeds. Edward, nothing daunted, soon made a pathway up to the front door. He made a table out of one of the packing cases, a bookshelf too, and arranged all the books he loved so well.
All Elizabeth's knickknacks, gifts from friends that she thought she would never see on earth again, were put in their several places. So that when Elizabeth arrived she found all in order. When she came to the place of meeting, her husband was waiting for her with a hired conveyance to take her on her way. Such scenery she had never before beheld; so grand and bold. Lofty mountains covered with perpetual snow towering up in splendor beneath the blue heavens, and the luxuriant bush at the side covering many square acres of ground. As she neared the lofty piles, their beauty seemed to increase, and at last the travelers descended a steep incline, and could hear in the distance the roar of a mighty river sweeping down magnificent gorges.
On they went, till they were in the bed of a river of immense width, only passable in the summer at all times. In winter, often impassable for many weeks. When the travelers were in the bed of this river, they were surrounded by lofty embankments, cut so evenly, that they looked as if done by the hand of man, if it had not been for their immense height. But this was not so; it had been formed by a glacier of past ages. This river of ice, with its mighty millions of tons, had slowly, but surely done its work.
The travelers seemed locked in on all sides, and Elizabeth wondered where the outlet was. The sides of some of the embankments were covered with overhanging shrubs of every description. It has been said that in this spot is some of the grandest scenery of the world. At last they ascended a steep incline, and then they were at the top of a rugged precipice, and at last on a plain.
On they went this lovely morning till the everlasting hills again appear in sight, and the luxuriant bush, with birds of every hue, warbling sweet songs. Such a spot seemed like an earthly Eden; one could fancy that sorrow could never enter here.
On these mountains, there were a few settlers; they were far away from all good influence. Although beholding all this grandeur of nature, many of them avowed that there was no God. On Sundays the weekly avocations would still be pursued, such as building, reaping and sowing.
There was no companionship for Edward and his wife. They did not want the companionship of the ungodly; they only wanted to do them good. Edward had once sought to do good to those in the busy scenes of one of England's northern cities by preaching forth the words of life, and now God had brought him across the ocean to speak to those people in their mountain strongholds. He felt it to be a noble work to sow the seeds among the young, and while he was enabling them to fill their places on the platform of life, he was training them for something beyond it.
On the Sunday after their arrival (Elizabeth never forgot that scene) Edward called the children together to speak to them of Jesus and His love. Many voices were raised in singing that well-known school hymn: —
“There is a better world, they say,
Oh! so bright,
Where sin and woe are done away,
Oh! so bright.
No clouds e'er pass along its sky,
No tear-drops glisten in the eye,
Happy land.”
If the Christian could not look beyond this scene, to his mansions in the skies, how could he bear the sorrows and the partings. But for the glad re-unions when earth's storms are overpast, his heart would fail him. The God of Israel is a God of love; nay, not only a God of love, but is love itself, and when earth's weary travelers arrive in their eternal home, they will have a Father's greeting, a Father's welcome, and they will bid farewell to every fear; faith will give place to sight in those mansions above, and if earth apart from sin is ofttimes so beautiful, what must it be in the fair Eden above.
Edward labored among the people here, and as the word of the Lord can never return to Him void, let us hope that Edward will have had souls for his hire. The husband and wife felt alone with God; far away from kindred and friends. They took walks together, and each day fresh beauties would open to their view. The lofty mountains, the luxuriant bush, the mountain gorges, with their overhanging foliage of every hue, and the mighty waters rushing down their incline, would all speak to them, telling them that the mighty Creator was here, and, in the midst of all, this mighty Creator was caring for His children.
The pleasant evenings were whiled away in the midst of these mountain passes, shielded only by wooden partitions these two passed their days.
The winds so prevalent, and no Englishman could imagine what they were like, swept down the gorges, often rocking the house. Indeed, before they were the inmates one day, the chimney fell and smashed the roof, still they feared not. They would sit in the evenings around the blazing hearth, great trunks of trees three feet long blazing up the chimney, all so different to what they had been accustomed to; still Elizabeth often looked back on those days of native grandeur, as far surpassing those of other years.
They were many miles from any meeting of Christians, and being so often prevented from going to any, as they had no vehicle of their own, and once or twice were much disappointed in a neighbor taking them, they thought they would remember the Lord's death there in those mountain strongholds:—
“Do this, he cried, till time shall end,
In memory of your dying Friend;
Meet at my table, and record
The love of your departed Lord.”
As the emblems of the Savior's death were laid in that lowly cottage that glorious Sunday morning, Elizabeth little thought that it was not only the first time but would be the last also, that she and Edward would partake of those emblems together.
She has never forgotten, nor will she do so, that memorable Sunday morning. As she took the bread, the Savior at the moment seemed to speak to her, as He had never done before, in all His living power, "This is my body, which is broken for you." The husband and wife sang together: —
“We'll sing of the Shepherd that died,
That died for the sake of the flock,
His love to the utmost was tried,
But firmly endured as a rock.”
Elizabeth seemed to be prepared in some measure for a coming trial; such an one that the writer cannot fully depict it. Enough to know that Jehovah was with her all the way. She received a letter from a friend, and in it a leaflet with the words: —
“While she leans on me
The burden shall be mine, not hers.”
He did, indeed, bear all the weight, or it would have crushed her.
The following week, Edward became much worse, and thought it right to get medical aid, at the nearest town, which was sixty miles distant. This meant a far different journey than an Englishman might suppose. Several hours were spent in traveling. Edward started one autumn evening for the nearest railway station, and as she watched his receding form, she little dreamed that this loved husband had seen those hills for the last time-that he was so soon to bid farewell to earth, to ascend the heights of glory.
Chapter 5: Edward's Illness and Death
LATE at night, Edward arrived at his destination, took a lodging for the night, and the next morning went to the hospital to get advice. The doctors said they could do nothing for him unless he became an inmate of the building for a time, and he, for the sake of his wife and child, became one.
Elizabeth was long afterward told, that they knew he was near his end, and thought that he was better in the hospital than in lodgings. She eagerly waited for tidings of her husband's return; so imagine her feelings when she received a letter, informing her that her husband was an inmate of a hospital, with stranger hands ministering to his wants.
The next day she decided to go to him, and know full particulars. She and her child arrived at the town, sought a lodging for the night, and the next morning went to see her husband.
Noble institutions are these hospitals, and noble hearts had the founders of them, but no one can portray fully the wife's feelings when, at the far end of a long ward, she saw her husband looking pale and wan, and looking, too, at least ten years older than when she last saw him. Anxiety had made havoc of his feeble frame.
The doctor had written over his bed the Latin word for consumption, not thinking that his patient would know its meaning. The word itself, together with being told to keep his bed, made all hope cease. He knew his weakness; that he could work no longer for his wife and child.
Edward was very unhappy in this place; his wife saw that he was, and offered to get a lodging. Oh! how gladly did he fall in with this idea. Elizabeth now seemed to lose all hope; but she felt that she would like to minister to his wants herself, instead of strangers doing so. Intuition seemed to tell her, that those pleasant evenings in the home on the mountains were over forever. But even there, she had at times her misgivings. One evening he asked her to read a hymn he had composed: —
“Jesus, Lord Jesus, how oft would I fly
Thy face, to see.
Gazing on Thee, now exalted on high,
Comforteth me.
Boundless the love that surrounds me, I know;
Living the streams that continually flow,
Down to the poor wearied pilgrim below,
Savior from Thee.
“Here oft I tremble a sigh of regret,
Waiting for Thee.
Star of the morning, that never can set,
Coming for me.
Lord, when Thou comest, from sorrow I rest,
Deep drink of joy, and lean on Thy breast,
Satisfied fully I in Thy presence blest,
Savior with Thee.
“Saints now united, in glory ne'er part,
Savior from Thee.
One is the object and hope of the heart—
Jesus 'tis Thee.
The rivers of crystal and city of God,
Portals of pearls, such a glory unfold;
But, what are these, when Thy face I behold?
Nothing to me?
“List what the Bride and the Spirit doth say:
Come, come away.
Let him that heareth the word, Come, say
Come, come away.
Jesus now testifies, I quickly come,
To take my beloved ones up to my home;
Oh I may our hearts echo back to His own,
Come, Jesus, come.”
Elizabeth, with a great effort, read this hymn.
Edward wrote a letter to his father (the last letter he ever wrote to that loved parent) asking him to sing, with the rest of the family, this poem, when all were gathered around the old harmonium.
After Edward was on foreign shores, he valued the Christian home of his childhood as he had never done before. When he saw the ungodly homes around him, the infidelity and its consequences, he loved to think of his boyhood's home and of his Christian parents.
A time came when Elizabeth formed one of the circle in that home, and around the old harmonium she joined in singing the hymn of her loved one, not with breaking heart, but with a heart full of thankfulness that her husband was free from all pain, safe in his home in glory, and she had proved Jehovah-Jesus that He could far more than make amends for earthly loss. It was through deep and sore sorrows, however, ere she could speak of His love, even in this measure.
Elizabeth found a clean, comfortable lodging, and went with a vehicle the next day to the hospital for her husband. When he came to the lodging and saw it replete with comfort, she saw his look of satisfaction. Elizabeth had brought him here that her hands might minister to him; but her God and Father would not have it so, His way was the best way as after events proved.
Edward was to have no earthly prop to lean on as he passed through the valley of the shadow of death. Jesus was His only stay. Truly Edward, the passage was a rough one that preceded thy entry into that blissful harbor, but it only made thy rest more sweet and Christ more dear. They partook of tea together on their arrival at this lodging. Edward, with an unnatural energy to cheer his wife, had moved to the table. This was the last meal they were to partake of together on earth. God knew it; they did not, and well was it that the veil was drawn. How our fainting hearts would sink if we knew all that we had to go through. He who knows our feeble frame, has mercifully hidden the future. He has also said, "As thy day so shall thy strength be," and "My grace is sufficient for thee.”
That night Elizabeth awoke suddenly from a sound slumber and became delirious. Her husband was removed into another apartment, and she was left by him to be taken care of by the woman of the house. We will leave her now, only to say, that Edward came to her bedside once, and earnestly with his now enfeebled voice prayed for her recovery; that she might be restored to her child. This prayer was answered; but in God's own way and time. His way was the best way, and His own time the right time.
Edward's faith, as he approached the end, shone brighter and brighter. The woman of the house, who attended to him, and the doctor pressed him to write on paper what he wished done with regard to his wife and child; and one day, the woman having got a certificate from the doctor that his disease was approaching a fatal termination, put it into the dying man's hands. He, however, did not waver. He would do nothing but trust them to Jehovah, the Father of the Fatherless, and the Husband of the widow.
It was a test to his faith to know that his wife and child were on foreign shores and with no means of support. He knew that he was powerless to help; but he knew that the God who had led him hitherto was a faithful Promiser, so with calmness, he awaited his exit into glory. He was sitting in his chair the day before he departed. On the morning of his passing into the eternal world, he was too weak to get up.
Towards the evening, the landlady came into the room, she did not notice any change. In the morning he had asked her to read to him Psa. 116, and also a hymn: —
“Rest of the saints above,
Jerusalem of God.”
and he feebly marked the following verse:
“And by the Spirit's power
He's ope'd the heavenly door,
And brought me to this favored hour,
When toil shall all be o'er.”
Edward must have felt that his end was near, for as the woman was about to leave the room he, with an unnatural energy, called her. She returned to his bedside, and in ten minutes afterward he peacefully slept away, to awake on that glad morn to meet the Lord he loved so well. His happy spirit is however with him now, he has passed the portals and is resting now on his Savior's breast:—
“Safe in the arms of Jesus,
Safe on His gentle breast;
Free from the world's temptations,
Sweetly his soul shall rest.”
A few Christians took him to his last resting place one Sunday afternoon. The rain was pouring in torrents; but what of that to the sleeping saint. His soul was in the paradise above,
“Where he will know, without a cloud,
His full unbounded love.”
Edward had often wished to be a missionary. God gave him his wish for a short time. That Pacific isle gave him a home till he set out again on another voyage; but this time he was "bound for the evergreen shore.”
Chapter 6: Elizabeth in the Asylum
EDWARD being in a dying state when Elizabeth was taken delirious, and having no means at his disposal was powerless to act. The land-lady of the lodging, together with the doctor, soon were apprised of the fact that Edward was poor, so they sought to get Elizabeth into a lunatic asylum. She was quite unconscious when she was taken. They took her from her bed, and hastily put her into a cab, and drove her to this building. No place for her, as many afterward said; still God in His goodness hid her from the coming trial; from the coming solemn events. Her medical attendant said that her body was in such a weak state, that she must have died had she passed through all the after events connected with her husband's death. Every detail from the commencement of her illness till the time she left the institution came vividly to her recollection, On arriving at the building her Bible, a gift from her mother, was taken from her. She was then led to a small cell with a lattice window, not a particle of furniture, and put on a bed of straw on the floor. Here she remained for three weeks; perfectly dead to the outer world.
The wild shrieks of the insane sounded through the corridors, and were mixed up with the wild fancies of her fevered brain. Still in her wild delirium, thoughts of heaven and heavenly things soothed that fevered brain. She was often heard to sing in the dark hours of the night,
“How good is the God I adore,
My faithful, unchangeable Friend,
Whose love is as great as His power,
And knows neither measure nor end.”
And oftener still:—
“There is a Name I love to hear,
I love to sing its worth,
It sounds like music in my ear,
The sweetest Name on earth.”
During these weeks she had occasional visits from young attendants, and once or twice during the night, the tiny window in the door was quickly opened, and a dark-eyed, matronly looking woman threw the light of the lantern on the suffering one and then quickly passed on. Once or twice she came to Elizabeth and gave her something to drink.
The day before she got up, Edward was taken to the mansions above. The authorities heard of his death, and likely thinking that friends would be looking after Elizabeth, had her dressed and taken to the ward of the worst patients, where she was so weak that she had to be supported by an attendant, and she was so frightened that she feared to move. The frantic shrieks of some of the patients, mixed with the oaths of one or two attendants, and the waking up as it were from a dream, without then the faintest recollection of how she came there or where she was, that in her weakness, she fancied she was in a place of satanic influence.
Edward wanted to write a letter to her, that she might have it, when she came to herself, that she might be told where she was. The woman who nursed him said she would never get it, so Edward did not write. Well would it have been for Elizabeth, when she did come to consciousness, to have had some loving heart to break the awful news; but the naked truth of her position dawned on her, on seeing "Lunatic Asylum" on a printed form. The doctor, who was the means of her being placed in this institution, was heard to say that some place between an asylum and a hospital was needed for her.
On the following Sunday, Edward's remains were put in their last resting place, and the succeeding Sunday was one also never to be forgotten by Elizabeth. When returning to her dark cell, she could throw herself on her knees, and cry to her God to deliver her from this cell. How this was to be done, she did not know; but she had faith to believe that He could do it.
On this Sunday morning in question she asked for a Bible. The attendant said, "What Bible." Elizabeth felt deeply hurt and answered, "There is but one Bible.”
Within ten minutes the doctor, a truly kindhearted man, came his rounds with the matron, and on coming to Elizabeth, who was trying to support her weak frame on the bench, said to the matron, "This is no place for her.”
Half-an-hour afterward the woman took her up-stairs. Elizabeth wondered where she was going, when a door was thrown open and she was led into the convalescent ward—a long cheerful room, with flowers and pictures, and a piano at the far end. A number were seated around the table, with their prayer-books and hymn-books. And soon after the chaplain walked in, and a truly godly man he was. The first hymn he called sent such comfort to Elizabeth that words cannot express: —
“Art thou weary, art thou languid,
Art thou sore distrest,
Come to me, saith One, and coming,
Be at rest.”
Only a person in like circumstances can fully understand the calm that these words brought to Elizabeth's troubled breast. She was informed that she was to stay in this ward. Never had any patient in that building passed so quickly to it. It was the custom to bring them gradually through each ward.
At night she feared she was to be taken to her lonely cell; instead of which she was taken to a bright cheerful ward of 36 beds, and her resting place was shielded, and in one of the best positions. Now again, how truly could she say, "How good is the God I adore.”
All here showed her kindness. Firmer and rougher hands were needed for patients below, but here she had every care. Once, when in the cell below, two attendants came to her with something, and because she did not want to take it, they boxed her ear so, that it gave her pain for some time after. She never spoke of it; as whatever sense she had then restored to her, told her to make a fuss would only be worse for herself.
The Superintendent or the Inspectors would never have allowed such an action had they known it; but how, my reader, are the authorities to guard always against unprincipled servants? It should be the last extremity for friends to put those dear to them in such a place. It is only those who have suffered within its walls can tell the secrets. One of Elizabeth's attendants would often come to her and ask her to sing that well-known hymn: —
“Sweetest note in seraph song,
Sweetest carol ever sung,
Jesus, blessed Jesus.”
The poor afflicted ones delighted to hear Elizabeth sing and play. None, to their ears, played like Mrs. R.; none sang like her. She could only account for it, that what came from the heart, spoke to the heart. She had proved the One, whose name was the sweetest name on earth, and would therefore with wondrous feeling sing of
“His mighty power to save.”
All this time Elizabeth could not imagine why her husband never came to her, and intuition kept her from asking the reason; for she was afraid of the answer, for in her wild delirium she fancied he was safe on the other shore.
One afternoon, about five weeks after she was an inmate of this institution, she was told that a lady wished to see her. She went to the waiting-room, a cold-looking place, and met this lady. She was a Christian and an elderly one, and in her strong Scotch brogue in answer to Elizabeth's question, "Where is my husband?" she said, “He has gone to be with the Lord." The tone, the accent, and greater still the words, all sank down into Elizabeth's bleeding heart. Oh! what a moment that was, God alone witnessed her feelings; but in the midst, such a calmness stole over her that she was never able to express. She felt an unseen presence around her. The visitor was heard to say, "She took it far better than I expected.”
Words often used; still, if prayer is made, what is there that we cannot expect Jehovah to do! He can calm the troubled breast: —
“How sweet the name of Jesus sounds
In a believer's ear,
It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds,
And drives away his fear.”
She left her visitor to ascend that staircase, with no friendly arm to lean on, no mother's breast to sob her sorrow out on; but that unseen presence was with her, as she ascended to the ward. It was a living reality. No outward emotion did she show. She thought of her child, and pleaded for strength to bear. The doctor came twice that night to the ward to see Elizabeth. Her intuition told her that he feared a relapse; but instead of which he saw something he could not understand. She knew where to fly for refuge. Oh with what fervor did she whisper: —
“Jesus, Lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly.”
When all the lights were out she stifled her sobs beneath the bedclothes. This relieved her. Sleep came at last, and in the morning she opened her Bible that had been returned to her, and her eye fell on Psa. 146. Every word seemed written for her. "While I live will I praise the Lord. Put not your trust in the son of man, in whom there is no help. Happy is he who hath the God of Jacob for his help, who made heaven and earth. Which executeth judgment for the oppressed. The Lord looseth the prisoners. The Lord preserveth the strangers. He relieveth the fatherless and widow." In days of old what care He always took of the stranger. Once when speaking to Israel He said, "Ye know the heart of the stranger." Under the head of that word "and widow" also did Elizabeth come. The faithful Promiser was hers, He was a husband to the widow and a Father to her fatherless child. Truly did she feel a stranger in a foreign land. Sometimes she felt she could only utter
“Guide me, Oh I Thou great Jehovah,
Pilgrim through this barren land;
I am weak, but Thou art mighty,
Guide me with Thy powerful hand.
Bread of Heaven:
Feed me till I want no more.”
He did guide her, He did lead her, in a most remarkable way. The doctor one day asked her if she had any friends. She thought of the good woman who had befriended her and Edward on first coming to the island. She sent a message to her, and in a few hours she and her husband came to her. Oh! how they sympathized. The wife saw Elizabeth's colored dress, and the next morning before breakfast Elizabeth received a new black dress, that hands must have plied the needle over late on into the preceding night. The robe was a sombre one indeed, but the Lord will bless the giver of that sombre parcel.
These two good people offered her a home at once. Certain forms had to be gone through, but in a few days the
good people fetched her and brought her to their humble dwelling. It was a lovely spring morning when the prison doors were opened to let the lonely widow through. A hearty welcome and an ample repast were awaiting her; and
as she entered that lowly dwelling, her heart again she lifted to her “... Faithful, unchangeable Friend,
Whose love is as great as His power,
And knows neither measure nor end.
Tis Jesus, the First and the Last,
Whose Spirit will guide me safe home;
I'll praise Him for all that is past,
And trust Him for all that's to come.”
The darkest hour is just before the dawn. Elizabeth's darkest hour was past, and dawn came at last.
Chapter 7: Emmie at Betsy's Home
“GET up, you lazy girl; it is: after five o'clock, and you lying there. I tell you what it is; if you are going to eat my bread, you will have to earn it first. I've worked hard in my day, and you will have to do it, too, or my name is not Betsy Cranstone.”
Emmie had been taken hastily to this woman, a distant relative of her father, and such were the words she heard on the morning after her arrival at Joe Cranstone's farm. The woman very reluctantly took her—the kid, as she called her. No person explained in any way the cause of the change, and the little clinging, loving heart was well-nigh broken. Let us not suppose that childhood has not its feelings.
This homestead was situated away up on the hills—a wooden shanty surrounded by hundreds of acres of barren-looking land. The rugged mountains, whose tops reared far away into the heavens, with not an acre of bush to relieve the eye, and scattered on them here and there were extinct craters, which showed to a passerby, if ever there were such a being in this outlandish spot, that though far away from the busy scenes of life, the footprints of the Creator were here; and His watchful eye at this moment was watching over that beautiful and lonely girl, who was in consternation listening to the words and harsh tones of Betsy Cranstone. The child was of very delicate organization; she wore such a look of refinement, and her expression was so sweet. Her well formed head was covered with a mass of auburn curls.
Poor Emmie awoke from a troubled sleep, wondering where she was; but though a child in years, she was not in mind, and the absence of her father and mother and the whole change of circumstances flitted through her little active mind, and the harsh tones of Betsy frightened away or rather prevented the outburst of her pent up feelings, which otherwise would have broken out.
Emmie, in her childish glee, had often frolicked on the green in front of the native school, where her father had scattered the seeds of truth. She had rambled in the woods gathering ferns and wild flowers. Her little voice had warbled sweet notes of praise in the Sunday class. She had been petted and loved by the children. Her refined and sensitive nature had never to succumb to harsh treatment. Her day had been one continual flow of happiness. And now in one short week all was changed, and Emmie was alone, yet not alone, for her father's God was with her.
“Savior, like a shepherd lead us,
Much we need Thy tender care.”
The poor child was taken ill, and Elizabeth was afterward told that she had almost lost her. Most unsuitable medicine was administered to the little one; so that God must have fully been the Author of her recovery. He who knows the end from the beginning was going to rejoice the mother's heart in giving her back her child. He can over-rule all things. When Elizabeth was told where her darling was, the child she had so loved and shielded, she received a great shock, and oh! the bitter pain of knowing she could not get to her.
It was the law that no inmate of an asylum could leave that institution till he or she had a home to be taken to.
The mother tried to forget the instrument used in caring for her child, and constantly prayed to the Shepherd of Israel, who never slumbers or sleeps, to shield her darling child. His ear was attentive to that mother's cries. His eye was on her child, "Shall not he who formed the ear hear, and shall not he who made the eye see?" That wondrous formation of ear and eye speaks of a wondrous Creator. Betsy in her rough way fed and "housed" the child; but she did not want her there.
There are many hearts with rough exteriors in the colonies, that when on England's shores possessed softened natures; but from colonial hardships in days gone by, and from having to battle with the stern realities of life, and without any fear of God before their eyes and ignorant of the One who is the great burden-bearer of His people, they have become selfish and hardened. Would that they knew the One, whose love can melt the heart of stone.
When Joe Cranstone was on English shores he had professed to belong to the Savior; but the love of drink, and the temptations of ungodly companions, together with the love of gold, had made him a fearful backslider. Could such a one have ever tasted the Savior's love? Still the great God above so loved mankind as to send His Son to die that all might be saved, and ere his soul is called hence, may he know and feel a Savior's love. He, too, as well as Emmie, had Christian parents. He had at times his moments of contrition, but turned to drink to drown remorse.
The child trembled to hear his drunken oaths at the table, and oh! how she longed for her mother. That mother she was soon to see, much sooner than she expected.
Elizabeth wrote a letter to Betsy, asking her to send Emmie to the station, and she would be there to meet her. One morning the child dressed herself as usual, and appeared in the doorway tremblingly. Betsy told her to come quickly to her breakfast, and then get herself ready to go in the buggy. Emmie dared not ask a question. The woman volunteered to remark "that her father was in a big hole." This was all the comfort that the fatherless child had bestowed on her.
Now that Betsy knew that she was to be rid of her, she was a little more kind in her articulations. Over rough roads was Emmie driven for many miles. Horses dashing fearlessly on, accustomed to rough roads and river passes. A vehicle swaying into the middle of the river was thought nothing of by colonials of earlier days; but to one of later date such experiences do not tend to soothe the nerves, if he has any.
However people soon get used to these things as to everything else. The dryness of the climate is very exhilarating, and the starlight nights, owing to this dryness, are magnificent. When Elizabeth's eyes first rested on the "Southern Cross" in the midst of the spangled heavens, she thought she had never seen aught so lovely.
On Emmie was driven on this eventful morning, and at last stopped at a primitive little railway station.
Chapter 8: Meeting of Mother and Child
ELIZABETH was thankful indeed for the welcome she had received at the humble cottage of her kind-hearted friends. Their home seemed like a palace to her, now that she was no longer a prisoner. The day she wended her steps towards that home was a memorable one to her. The same unseen presence seemed to follow her, and send a calmness into her soul. Awful as the thought was, that she was a widow, penniless almost, and a stranger in a foreign land, sweet, heavenly peace filled her soul, that the God of Israel was caring for her.
After her arrival at this resting-place afforded her, one wish filled her breast—that she might fly to her child. This was quite impossible, as Emmie was many miles away, and Elizabeth only possessed a few pence.
A few days after she was brought to this friendly shelter she received a letter, and on opening it she found a check for about £5, payable to herself. The money had been sent to her by the officer whose duty it was to pay the teachers' salaries, and this amount was sent to her as that due to her late husband. Elizabeth knew he had not been able to fulfill his duties for some time previous to his death; still the authorities paid the salary up to the date of his death. She was enabled at once to write to Betsy Cranstone asking her for her child.
On a spring morning Elizabeth started by a stage coach drawn by eight horses, dashing along over rough roads they were well trained to traverse. Up hill and down, now near the edge of awful precipices, then for two or three miles through an amphitheater of hills and rugged precipices. One false step, or an inexperienced driver, and all might have been hurled into the abyss below.
But all this was nothing to Elizabeth, for was she not going to meet her long-lost child! At the breakfast hour the coach stopped at a wayside inn, and Elizabeth ordered breakfast, and when she asked the amount of payment, the landlord, who was a perfect stranger to her, would not take anything. Her widow's garb might have won his sympathy. However, whatever was the cause, she had another manifestation of a Father's care.
Again the coach sped on its way, till Elizabeth had to change for the train. This was soon done, and in a short time, Emmie saw a train slowly steam into the primitive little railway station, on the platform of which she was standing with Betsy. And oh! joy burst into her little heart, for at the window of one of the carriages was the face of her long-lost mother, who soon took her to her breast, and then with a bursting heart of thankfulness to the Father of all mercies, parent and little one sped on their way.
They soon arrived at the temporary shelter that had been afforded to Elizabeth by the good people who had so befriended her. She, however, longed to be able to earn something for herself, as she knew that three months must elapse ere she could hear from friends at home. In a day or two she applied for a small school. Friends doubted the good of this application, as there were so many other applicants; but Elizabeth could trust in a little measure her heavenly Father now, whose care had been so manifested to Edward in providing for him; so she felt assured that she would have that which was good for her. She calmly waited the issue of events.
Three days after her application, while sitting at tea, a messenger came with a note. On opening it she was
informed that a temporary teacher was wanted at Seafield; average attendance sixteen; salary after the rate of £81;
expenses paid, and she was asked to go. She was given the money for a first-class ticket and expense of vehicle. Imagine her joy, dear reader, once more to be able to shield her little one, and to have a sphere of labor. God can use whom He will for His people's good, and He does the very best for those who leave the choice to Him. "Omnipotence hath servants everywhere.” Once again could she sing:
“How good is the God I adore.”
He restored her to health, gave her back her child, and now was bestowing on her an earthly home, and although He had taken her husband to the paradise above, He was not going to leave her alone; for He Himself was to be her guard and guide, and give her the privilege of scattering seeds of truth among the children of parents who could not point them the way to the tender Shepherd.
What an honor to serve Him in the smallest measure; but the vessels He uses are made meet for the Master's use. He wounds to heal, He breaks the earthen vessel that His light may shine out to poor benighted travelers. He uses the weak things of the earth that He Himself and not another may have all the glory.
“Close to His feet on the pathway,
Empty, and frail, and small,
An earthen vessel was lying,
Which seemed of no good at all.
“But the Master saw and raised it
From the dust in which it lay,
And smiled as He gently whispered,
This shall do My work to-day.”
Chapter 9: The Earthquake, and Journey to Seafield
ON the following Saturday Elizabeth was to start for Seafield. The evening previous was spent in busy preparations for the journey, and with a light heart she retired for the night. Once again she was not only to have a manifestation of His love, but of His power also.
In the dark hours of the night a rumbling noise was heard under the sward outside the house, and it increased by degrees, until it sounded like mighty peals of thunder vibrating through the air. Then the lowly cottage of which Elizabeth was an inmate was shaken to the foundation, as if the Creator had taken it within His grasp.
Elizabeth awoke, and in the darkness of the night she did not need to be told of the awfulness of her position. Forty feet of the spire of the neighboring church had fallen to the ground. Some of the masonry of the adjoining house was shivered to atoms. Elizabeth did not tremble; but a faint feeling stole over her, which was succeeded by a calmness, for she thought, "My God would not have given me this school, if He were going to destroy me in this earthquake." She felt so sure that the school was of God that the simple faith took all fear, and the Author of it used these thoughts to comfort her.
The next morning all was calm in nature. The inhabitants, as she passed along the street to the railway station, looked awestricken, as if something unearthly had happened, as indeed it had. Many, however, who avowed openly that there was no God, betrayed their fear. They knew Him not as a God of love— yea, even love itself—and fear of the Unseen dwelt in their breast, try how they would to hide it.
Elizabeth, her little one, and a daughter of the good people who had so succored her, started for A., a small town seventy miles off, and twelve miles from her future home. They arrived at the terminus at mid-day. News soon flies in a small place, so one of the Seafield school committee, a well-to-do farmer, who was in the town of A. that day, soon was apprised of the fact that the new schoolmistress had arrived. He met her and made himself known to her, and offered to take her in his own conveyance. The trio were soon on their way this lovely spring day. The terrible earthquake of the preceding night had cast no shadow on that day. The sun was shining brilliantly. On went the travelers, till the lovely ocean appeared, whose mighty waves could be heard dashing against the gigantic rocks of the coast.
Elizabeth was eagerly looking out for the schoolhouse, when, to her surprise, the good man drove her to his own grounds, and at last they stopped outside a pretty wood villa with a verandah and lovely flowers underneath. The good man's wife, a bright-looking person, soon appeared, and the travelers were given a hearty welcome, and a repast such as a farmhouse can provide was soon spread, to which they did ample justice.
They were kept there for the night, and the next morning Elizabeth was taken to her home. She expected to see a small shanty, such as she and Edward had possessed on the mountains, but to her surprise it was a well-built house, standing, together with the school, on seven acres of land covered with verdant grass, except where the garden lay, and these grounds were surrounded by a plantation of gum trees, through which the snow-fed crystal stream was winding.
No words can fully depict Elizabeth's feelings when she entered this home, given as it were direct to her from heaven. It was the God of Israel who had touched the hearts of her benefactors to send her here. She had no home, and He gave her one through them. Thus showing how God can come in for His people's good.
The following Monday morning Elizabeth met her pupils. She soon got to love them and they her; and at the end of one month she was asked to accept the school permanently. Here she lived for a year and a half, spending some of her happiest days. The pure air and sea-breezes soon strengthened her, and she felt that her God had done so much for her she must do something for Him, so she formed a Sunday-class in the schoolroom on Sunday afternoons, and at her own house in the evening for those older, and who had left the day-school. Many had to walk several miles; but gladly did they travel rough roads to hear God's word. Only about once in five weeks did a church minister hold service in the place.
One young girl confessed that she had found the Savior through Elizabeth. She said no interest did she ever take in her Bible before she came. Once this young woman was driving, and her younger sister fell out of the vehicle, through the horse taking fright. The poor girl was several miles from home, and alone by the roadside with her sister's head bleeding profusely. She thought of Elizabeth telling her to pray when in difficulty; so the girl poured out her first real prayer to God, that she might be guided to some house to get relief for her sister. She directly saw in the distance a cottage, to which she hastily drove, and found the woman of the house to be a Christian—a Wesleyan—and she quickly relieved the suffering girl.
Elizabeth's health at last gave way, and she sought medical aid, and was advised to return quickly to her native land, as she was suffering from consumption. She soon prepared to leave this loved spot, and this young girl who had confessed her Savior was asked by others to carry on the Sunday class that Elizabeth had been compelled to give up. May God's rich blessing be upon this young worker at the far ends of the earth. Before Elizabeth left she composed the following lines, which were accepted very heartily by the parents of her pupils:
“Fair Seafield I love to gaze
Upon the panorama of thy lovely landscape;
Thy distant snow-capped hills towering up in splendor
Beneath the canopy of blue.
Thy wide-spread meadows, and flocks of bleating lambs;
And the eastern shores of thy fairy isle,
Fringed with you azure ocean.
I oft behold thy homesteads, dotted here and there,
And filled with many a kindly heart.
Thy village school, where smiling children, too, I meet,
And where on Sunday afternoons,
Their voices mingle, with those of riper years,
In hymns of praise to the great Artist,
Whose pencil, as it were, has sketched so fair a scene,
Where once the scepter of the savage ruled its sway.
Thy sunsets, too, where the sun
In all his bold majestic beauty, bathed in golden light,
Is seen to smile behind the western hills.
The moon, too, with her silver sheen
I love to gaze on,
Rising in all her loveliness into the spangled vault of heaven.
Fairer and grander scenes I might have seen,
Where other snow-capped hills tower 'neath heaven's canopy.
And lovely gorges, made by the glaciers of other years,
And foliage of every hue is there;
Where the crystal stream winds on,
Increasing ever and anon until I hear its distant roar.
But Seafield, where I, a homeless stranger found a home,
And kindly hearts to cheer, I'll ne'er forget thee;
And in the distant ages may thy voices join with mine
In Hallelujahs
To the great Creator, the Savior of mankind,
Whose mighty voice is heard
In the distant roar of thy mighty waves.”
Chapter 10: Homeward Bound
IT was with mingled feelings that Elizabeth looked upon the scene of her short labors, sorry to bid farewell to the scholars she had loved so well, yet glad for the sake of her child to return to her native land. The parents of the pupils presented her with ten pounds. Here was another manifestation of a Father's care, for she needed the money to help to defray the expenses of the voyage.
One day towards the end of summer, she and her child left that loved spot. A hurricane arose as she was on her way to the railway station. The same evening towards dusk, amid torrents of rain, she arrived at the terminus of the town, near the port from where she had to embark for her native shores. Here, according to previous arrangements, after a pressing invitation, was Elizabeth met by her old friends—those who had always befriended her. In the same lowly cottage, where she had experienced such love and care, did she find another welcome, and here she remained for a few days ere she set sail. Near this spot she bade farewell to scenes that she would never visit on earth again, where some of her greatest trials had been, but where, too, her Father's care had been so manifest. One spot, the dearest on earth to her, had to be left, never more to be looked on, the spot where her dear husband lay; still, while weeping over that grave, she could lift her eye heavenward to that serener clime where sorrow can never enter, and where she will see her beloved husband again.
Her friends accompanied her to the seaport where she was to embark. Elizabeth much dreaded seeing this place. Those hills reminded her of the time when she and Edward landed, as lonely emigrants; and now she was going to embark from the same place a widow, yet not alone; for the God of Israel, who was going to guide her across the deep, supported her now. For the moment the feeling was agonizing, but the same calm assurance stole over her that she was not alone, and with a firm step she ascended the gangway, nerving herself to face the stern realities of life for the sake of her darling child.
Elizabeth possessed some of the characteristics of her race: she had a vast amount of the power of endurance, together with indomitable perseverance, that during the last few months had been called into action. These are naught without the blessing of the Lord; still He works in us not only to will but to do according to His good pleasure, and He nerves the feeble hand for fight.
She at last bade farewell to her faithful friends. How they had befriended her, God only knows. There are some noble ones on earth, and among them do these friends of the friendless stand, God used them as instruments, so thanksgiving must ascend to the Fountain Head for all our mercies; still may God abundantly bless the instrument: "I will bless them that bless you" is not effaced from the written word.
As Elizabeth saw the receding forms of her true friends, a feeling of loneliness crept over her; but in gentle whisper she heard the words of that mighty Comforter saying, "'Tis I, be not afraid.”
In a short time the good ship A. was out on the ocean wave and "Homeward Bound.”
Chapter 11: Steerage Passage and Its Experiences
AFTER Elizabeth's friends had left her, she descended to the steerage: she had no means to take a saloon passage. The deck of the ship and all the surroundings reminded her of her outward voyage, when she had her loved husband to protect her. The vessel was expected to be heavily loaded at the next port, so that very little room was left for steerage passengers. She found at the foot of steps almost perpendicular, a small square compartment, with two narrow deal tables and forms to match, and the only medium of light and air was through the hatchway. The food was served very indifferently. Rusty tins held the eatables, and to one in delicate health the whole appearance did not have a very appetizing effect. No doubt the whole arrangements were ample for what remuneration the company received; still to one in her state of health it was far from desirable. There were nine squalid children constantly making a din, still Elizabeth pitied them, and on the first Sunday she called them together and told them of Jesus and His love.
After twelve hours' passage the vessel arrived at the chief port of the island, where she remained one week. Elizabeth prayed earnestly for grace to bear all the difficulties connected with the steerage. For six days, from early morn till dusk, the stores for England were being hauled down to a place close by her, there being only a thin partition between her and the hold, and the door leading to the spot constantly open, so that watching her child to keep her from danger was Elizabeth's constant occupation. There are warm hearts everywhere, and the fellow passengers though poor, possessed kindly feelings. Some of the women were ever ready to minister to the invalid. A cup of tea was often brought to her cabin door.
A kind-hearted Irishman would go on shore now and then to buy sweets, &c., and then distribute them among the little ones. How often it is that when trouble oppresses us, there are other wounded hearts around us. A poor woman, who had lost her husband a few weeks before, was returning to her native shores with five children, two of them infants. When Elizabeth knew of this, she thought, I am not alone in trouble. Oh, what a time will that be when He will wipe the tear from every eye, and we shall rest eternally where sorrow can never enter.
While Elizabeth was staying with her friends before she embarked, she went to a boarding-house to wish the friend farewell who had first told her that she was a widow. This lady invited her to luncheon, and while the two were seated at a dining-table, a gentleman and his wife walked in, and took seats near them. Elizabeth was introduced to them by her friend. The gentleman had that day heard from England, and in a letter was one enclosed for Elizabeth, which he intended sending to her that day.
It was from an old mutual friend whom she had known from girlhood, and he thought to gain her friends by thus bringing her before their notice. And now in a most remarkable way was she brought before these people in a public restaurant, and nearly one hundred miles from her former place of abode. Her friend said, "This meeting is of the Lord;" but Elizabeth wondered for what purpose.
On the gentleman hearing that she was to start for England so soon, and was to remain in the next port a week, he said there was a friend there whom he knew intimately, and he would write to him at once. Perhaps he might be able in some way to show her kindness. Two days after, Elizabeth and her child arrived at this port about six p.m., and the former was completely prostrated with the effects of the voyage, not well enough to look after her little one, much more to battle with the surroundings.
However, her mind rose above difficulties, and, as has been said, she prayed for grace to bear, and this was not denied her. At eleven a.m. she was told that a lady on deck wished to see her, and when Elizabeth went up she found a friend that she had known in other years, in her native land, and she was also the wife of the gentleman that her new-found friend had written to on her behalf. Sorry indeed was she to see her so situated. She said, “I am sure it would not be the wish of your friends at home that you should be in the steerage.”
Elizabeth said, "They do not know of my coming, neither will they till I am far on the voyage.”
This lady invited her to her house, but Elizabeth was too ill to accept.
On the following Saturday her husband came to see Elizabeth, and showed great sympathy on seeing her so situated, and said, "I will do all I can for you, Mrs. N." Elizabeth did not know what the words were meant to convey, and little did she think of the benefit his noble heart was going to confer upon her.
The next morning being Sunday, and feeling better, she strolled with her child into the town, and never before or since did she experience such a sense of loneliness. She was three hundred miles from her true and tried friends, and twelve thousand miles from her native land. She endeavored to find a meeting of Christians, and was successful after much walking and trouble. A salvation army officer directed her (these people are found in all parts of the globe). How thankful was Elizabeth to rest at last. Oh, how she valued that hour with God's own people! And once again she took the emblems of the Savior's death, and thanksgiving true and heartfelt ascended that morning to the Father of all mercies.
After the meeting was over, friendly faces were around her, and she was taken to one good woman's house, who for the greater part of the day took care of Emmie and nursed her mother. That evening she returned to the vessel, and as she again descended the steps and saw the dim light of the lanterns sending a sombre shade on all around, she determined to accept no more invitations, but to nerve herself to bear, and not to again visit comfortable homes that would only be the means of making her more discontented with her lot by comparison.
She always remembered the words of her friend: "I will do all I can for you;" and was ever eager to look at any stranger descending the steps. Her faith, however, had to be tested once more. The day before the vessel started for England she was put out to sea, as there was a regatta and the chief officers were fearful of the sailors getting intoxicated, so the vessel was anchored far out in the harbor. All hope seemed gone for anything to be done for the weary travelers.
The last day came for the vessel to be in the harbor, and then the last hour. She was, however, soon to be on her way to an earthly haven, and the God of all comfort was guiding her, and He who has the hearts of all in His hands was going to take the fatherless and widow across earth's stormy waters in His arms of love. The poor fragile thing was to taste some of earth's comforts in a remarkable way, till the vessel she had embarked on steered into a harbor of her native land.
A gentleman appeared on the steps, Elizabeth eagerly scanned him; but he was not her long-expected friend. However, as he descended, he seemed to have his eye fixed on Elizabeth, and after speaking to the steward he advanced straight towards her. "I am sent," he said, "by Mr. B. to tell you that he has settled everything for you, and transfers you to the saloon, where you will get every comfort. It was impossible for him to come to you himself, as business calls him away. I am to bid you farewell for him.”
He then turned to the steward and called upon him to take Elizabeth's luggage to the saloon.
Elizabeth wondered if she heard aright, she seemed in a dream. Here in a strange land, so many miles from those dear to her, seated on a rough wooden bench, with nine squalid children around her, the foul air enough to take what little appetite she had from her, and now to be asked to quit this place where she had spent seven of the most miserable days of her life and go to the saloon, no words can fully portray her feelings. Enough to say, that with an alacrity she had not possessed for many a day she ascended the steps, breathed once more the lovely sea breeze, and then followed her guide to the saloon.
Chapter 12: Saloon Comforts
ELIZABETH, when shown to her cabin, could not help exclaiming aloud, “This is beautiful. She had known what comforts and refinement mean, still in comparison to what she had left only a few moments before, all seemed truly delightful. She was given one of the largest cabins, with more berths than she required. She had been given an easy chair before starting, but this article had been of no use to her whatever, having no room in the steerage to put it. The steward soon fixed this article at the end of the saloon, and when Elizabeth reclined in it she thought she had indeed found a haven of rest. She soon gained strength. Each meal was served so nicely, and so many things to tempt the invalid, that her pale, wan look soon passed away. All were kind and considerate. The little fatherless girl soon gained friends. At each port passengers would go ashore, and return heavily laden with the produce of the place, and Emmie was never forgotten—bananas, oranges, grapes, sweets, &c., were amply supplied her. The mother and child could not go ashore. No funds, and want of strength kept Elizabeth in the vessel.
One day, in the tropics, with the sun immediately overhead, and all the portholes closed while the vessel was coaling, all the passengers went on shore, but Elizabeth and her child had to remain; but never did she value a sea breeze as she did that night, when the ship was out again on the ocean wave. The evenings were whiled away by the passengers, either by card-playing or singing. Elizabeth noticed that the card-players were often the most earnest in joining in the singing of the hymn, "For those in peril on the sea." Their card-playing, however much they tried, could never make them forget that they were on the mighty deep.
The first Sunday in the saloon, Elizabeth was asked to join in the singing, and she played the organ, too. And as she sat at the instrument she could not help contrasting that evening with the previous one, when, instead of being seated at the organ with an air of refinement surrounding her, she was seated on a wooden bench with no support, and the dim lantern making the apartment more sombre still. Such is life, full of changes, one day up, another the reverse. She was truly thankful for the change; but the ludicrous contrast of the situation gave her a feeling of amusement.
She was brought other comforts besides the ship's allowance, and was told that a friend of her husband, unknown to her, had come on board before she arrived, and given a carte blanche for all she needed for her comfort. Who this friend was Elizabeth had no idea; but it seemed that whichever way she turned her Father's care was manifested.
Those comforts had not been given her the first week, as she was only allowed as a favor to go on board a week before the ship started from the island, because she should be saved the trouble of changing from a coasting steamer in order to meet the vessel, so the regular order was not established at first. Such a change from that which was so hard to bear to luxury in comparison enchanted the little fatherless one. They had a splendid passage, such an one as the vessel had never experienced.
Elizabeth often watched the rippling waves by moonlight, so calm was the water; and when her darling child was sleeping the sweet sleep of childhood, the mother's thoughts would often fly back to the land of her adoption, of its being the land where her dear husband lay; but then again would come those comforting words, “He is not here, but risen;" and then her thoughts would fly upwards to that serener clime, where sorrow can never enter, where again we shall meet our loved ones; and then her thoughts would fly back to her little one, with heartfelt gratitude to our Father and God for prolonging her life to train the precious legacy for Him.
May He give her grace to do so, till her course has run, and she is welcomed by her Savior God far up the heights of glory, which will make amends for all the sorrow of many a weary pilgrim.
“In the Christian's home in glory
There remains a land of rest.”
After toil how sweet the rest that none but His loved ones know.
Every person was dreading the passage round Cape Horn; the previous one was terrific. However, one morning about 11 a.m. the vessel steered her course round this dangerous point, but all was so calm, a waveless sea, the waters as blue and as peaceful as the sky above. Before this point was reached, the ship steered through the icebergs; but the glorious moon shed her silver sheen on to these magnificent piles that afforded such a sight difficult to describe. One immense iceberg was like the ruins of a Grecian temple, such a sight with the spangled heavens above, looking down on the calm waves beneath, bearing up this temple of ice, lit up by the moon in all her glorious beauty.
To an observer all told of the mighty wonders of the deep, and lifted the heart in adoration to that mighty Creator, who once walked on the dark sea waves of Galilee, and in accents sweet said, "It is I, be not afraid." On the vessel sped, till after passing the barren coast of some parts of Western Africa, she sighted the grand peak of Teneriffe one lovely morning, when the clouds, just for one short five minutes exposed this mighty pile to the eager passengers. Soon after she steered into the lovely harbor of Santa Cruz. It was a glorious afternoon when that lovely spot was first seen by the passengers. Such an earthly Eden it seemed, perhaps more so than it really was (beautiful as it is) to the weary voyagers, who had been tossed on the mighty deep for five long weeks.
The vessel anchored in this harbor for some hours. All looked eagerly out to see if there were any fresh passengers. As little Emmie stood on the deck, a general of the army walked the whole length of the deck to give her fruit. His hoary head, and the hard lines of his face, told that he had fought many a battle, but underneath was a kindly heart that could come down to the little fatherless one to make her happy. This good man had not only fought this world's battles, but he was a soldier evidently in that army of which Jesus is the Captain. One Sunday evening, when passengers were crowded round the organ, he walked boldly forward and asked for that hymn to be sung, "As the hart panteth," &c. His whole expression showed how he felt the words. This hymn was often afterward sung, and called General S.'s hymn.
In a few hours the vessel again was out on the ocean wave, and as Elizabeth was reclining in her chair she saw a gentleman and a lady enter the saloon. Their whole bearing and appearance showed them to be so. All were eagerly trying to gain their patronage, which our Jewish passenger shunned. Jewish blood, try how she would to stifle her feelings, would mount up unforbidden, so she sat quietly in her chair and looked on. At last the lady went to the piano and played and sang with a sweet treble voice that simple melody, "I've sighted the golden gate." Elizabeth felt by the feeling with which she poured forth the strains of the simple melody that the golden city of God was the goal unto which she was hastening. Then she sang that beautiful hymn, "Forever with the Lord.”
Elizabeth could no longer forbear joining with her, and her alto accompaniment was very much valued by this stranger. But she was not such long. She thanked Elizabeth heartily for the part she had taken, and thus a friendship sprang up that very much sweetened the few last hours of the voyage. She showed great kindness to Emmie, played with her, and amused her in many ways. Her own little girl of six she was eagerly looking forward to meet, and the little fatherless one reminded her so of her. In course of conversation Elizabeth was led to tell her of her kind-hearted friend of the Pacific Isle, who had been the means of the comforts she was then enjoying, when to her surprise, this lady said, "His sister is married to my brother," and thus Elizabeth was shown kindness by two members of the same family when 11,000 miles apart from each other. Surely this was of God. Elizabeth gave her some of her writings to read, and when she bade farewell she said, "Will you write to me, I feel I know you so well by what you have written, which I have read with much interest.”
At last the Bay of Biscay came in sight, and on the vessel sped over its waves, so unexpectedly calm, and soon the dear old Cornish hills came in view. All the passengers were on deck, and gave a unanimous verdict, that go where one will, no land looked like England. The heart of the Englishman beats true to his country, and often is he heard to say:
“England, with all thy faults,
I love thee still.”
Emmie looked up innocently into her mother's face, and said, "Is this Grandma's land?" Elizabeth stayed her answer, for she did not know if ever she should see that loved parent on earth again. She did not know whether or not her feet were roaming the plains of Immanuel's land.
Chapter 13: Arrival in London Docks
MANY of the passengers landed Plymouth, fearing to risk another hour more than could be helped on the ocean wave. The papers brought on deck from Plymouth to of terrific weather in the Channel during the previous few days. (To see the deck of the ship boarded by news-boys was a pleasant sight to all: for it told of land not being far off.) However, by the time the returned emigrants of our story arrived in the Channel, the storm was over, and, as usual, the vessel was steering her course over calm waters, with the new moon sending a lovely mellow light into the cabin where the widow and her child were resting.
As breakfast was being served, Gravesend was sighted. All rushed eagerly on deck, and were told that many hours would elapse ere the London Docks would be arrived at, as the tide would not serve. However, before the meal was over the vessel seemed to be on the move once more, and passengers were told that, with more steam power than usual, the captain thought he might proceed, and, to the joy of all, again she moved and at last steamed into the London Docks. Some of the friends of passengers looked as if they could jump to the vessel, ere she touched the quay, so eager were they to meet their loved ones.
Elizabeth had informed her relatives of her return, and had sent a telegram from Plymouth of her safe arrival. And as the vessel sped over the mighty deep, thoughts of her beloved mother would come to her mind, and wondering if she were still alive, and how the well-worn travelers would be received. She had committed all into the hands of her Guard and Guide, and she felt assured that, come what may, all would be well. And all was well, for a glad welcome awaited the widow and the fatherless.
Though she was penniless and helpless, she knew that all power was in the hands of the One who had promised to be a Husband to the widow and a Father to the fatherless. All hearts are in His hands, and still how afraid we are to trust that mighty Deliverer, who, in times past, so cared. How He bears with us, as He did with the Israel of old. So now He bears us, as it were, on eagle's wings, until He will land us safely, not in an earthly Jerusalem, but far up the heights of glory, "Above the strife of earthly din," safe within the courts of the heavenly Jerusalem, no more to go out.
“Jerusalem, my happy home,
Name ever dear to me,
When shall my labors have an end,
And I thy glories see?”
She knew whom she had trusted. She could say, He loved me and gave Himself for me. And she believed that He loved her still, and would do so till the end.
As the vessel steamed into the docks, where not long before she had set out for the Southern Seas with her beloved husband, the One who said, "As thy days, so shall thy strength be," supported her now; and she knew that each day was bringing her nearer another haven, another rest; and that Jesus, the Captain of her salvation, was steering her course towards that haven; and that not all the rocks, shoals, and storms of this poor world could alter His course. All would only be the means of making that rest more sweet at the close, Christ more dear, and heaven more near.
“Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the billows near me roll,
While the tempest still is high.
Hide me, oh! my Savior hide
Till the storm of life is past.
Safe into the haven guide,
Oh! receive my soul at last.”
But blessed be His name, she had the assurance that He would shield, that He would guide till he had anchored her safely on the other shore, safe into that blissful haven.
It was with much emotion that Elizabeth gazed on the shores of her native land, wondering what changes might have taken place; but oh! the unspeakable comfort to know that she had with her that faithful, unchangeable Friend, and He was not going to leave her now.
Worn and weary, she dressed herself and her little one, and went on deck, to see the passengers go ashore, and with the hope that she might see some friendly face; but no, her faith was to be tested now. Could she trust still that mighty Deliverer who had brought her safely across those stormy waters. And there as she stood on the deck, penniless, that lonely one lifted her heart to her heavenly Protector. As she gazed on those countless myriads of houses, and watched the busy crowd, with no pitying eye for her, she felt what it was to be "alone in London." And after all the blessings that had been bestowed upon her, after two hours of weary waiting, descended below to weep there, and she had the knowledge that she and her child must shortly rest elsewhere.
The kind-hearted steward pressed her to eat, and as she was trying to take a morsel, a hand was laid on her shoulder, and on turning her head, she beheld the kind, cheerful face of Edward's mother, who had come many miles to meet the vessel, but not being accustomed to travel much in London had failed at first to find the vessel, and had sought some hours.
Elizabeth felt her faith had been tested, and that her Friend who faileth never had sent her now an earthly comforter, and after tears of joy and some refreshment, she recovered, and with a thankful heart was ready to go on her way. But on turning to leave the saloon another friend appeared, a cousin, who had that morning received a letter from Elizabeth's brother asking her to meet the vessel as business prevented him from doing so, and she also put a registered letter into Elizabeth's hands received from the same source, and she found in it some gold coins to enable her to proceed on her way, and a few kind words telling her that warm hearts and a warm welcome were awaiting her. But her heart had to be made more glad still, after she had learned the lesson, for a little further on the way she met this only brother. He received her with a glad welcome, thankful that his only sister was returned to comfort her widowed mother.
Elizabeth, her child, and brother sped on their way. Everything was wonderful to little Emmie's eyes. She could not remember the wonders of England. A colonial mountain home, then the time spent with Betsy, succeeded by a sea voyage, was all Emmie's world. After now seeing so much she was wondering where she was going to be taken. She did not, however, fear anything like Joe Cranstone's farm, and even so, her darling mother was with her now, and what wanted she more; and then, when she looked into her dear mother's face, she was looking so bright, and seemed so happy, talking to the kind face opposite to her, and that kind face often cast a sunny glance at little Emmie, and at last when the train stopped he got such nice things for her to eat.
Now that the train journey was over, and the travelers got into a cab, and were driven on and on, through crowds of people and houses, Emmie wondered where all the people could be going, till at last the cab went out from the crowded streets into the green lanes, and Emmie had never seen such beautiful houses. As she was thinking how she would like to live in one, the cab stopped, and she was led by her uncle up to the hall door of his house.
Chapter 14: Grandmother's Welcome
AS the travelers walked up to the house, eager eyes were watching, and the moment they caught sight of the expected visitors, there was an immediate rush to the door, so that there was no need for hand to be raised to the knocker. True it was, indeed, that a warm welcome awaited the returned emigrants.
Emmie's aunt received her with a loving embrace, and there in the background, not being quite so nimble as in years gone by, was Elizabeth's aged mother coming to meet her. What a meeting that was for all, but for the mother and the long-lost daughter, none can depict it. If these are some of the meetings on earth, what must they be above? Brethren and kindred from every shore will meet in yonder haven. There will be the meetings with no bitter partings:
“In heaven above, where all is love,
There'll be no parting there.”
After the meeting of mother and daughter, the little one was freed from her aunt's embrace, only to be hugged more closely by her aged grandparent. Emmie could not understand it all. Everything was delightful. After having been so recently with rough Betsy Cranstone, she could never picture anything half so sunny as her grandmother's face, with its snowy curls, and beaming eyes looking down on her so kindly and lovingly. For a moment the child thought of the steerage, where her mother had so recently taken her, where the nine poor squalid children had made such a din that almost deafened her, and at the moment of this vision, her aunt took her to a nursery, a room specially prepared for her, as her aunt had no little ones of her own. Such beautiful little dresses, &c., were exposed to her view. There was every comfort, such as Emmie had not known before. And when her kind aunt took her to the dining room, little Emmie thought she was in fairyland. Such wonderful things, and such lovely flowers. Once the little one was lost, and her grandmother found her lying in one of the sideboard shelves, saying, "This is like being aboard ship.”
How much all had to tell of when the evening meal was over. How thankful were they to sit around that hearth once more, and not only from one heart that night, but from mother, son and daughters did that favorite hymn of Elizabeth's come to remembrance:
“We'll praise Him for all that is past,
And trust Him for all that's to come.”
Surely all had enough to praise Him for, and abundant proof, too, that He is worthy of all our praise and worthy of all our trust.
“Worthy of homage and of praise,
Worthy by all to be adored;
Exhaustless strains of heavenly lays,
Thou, Thou art worthy, Jesus Lord!”
Chapter 15: Rest at Last
SOME happy weeks were spent here, and then Emmie's uncle, by her grandmother's wish, went into a pretty country village, and took a house.
Elizabeth had seen a doctor, who gave her the glad news that the voyage had arrested the disease, so this country home, and pure air around, were likely to restore the invalid to health.
She was ever anxious not to lead an idle life, so begged to be allowed to prepare the home for the little family. This was granted, thinking to give her pleasure.
One lovely day, Emmie with her grandmother and aunt were seen traveling towards this rural retreat, far away from smoke and dirt. And once again at a railway station does little Emmie espy her mother, and what a welcome does she give the little one. The last time they met at a railway station poor Elizabeth had no home to take her child to; now all is changed. And how good was God to the widow and fatherless. So Emmie and her darling mother, with her grandmother, were driven along through green lanes, till they stopped outside a pretty cottage, with roses entwined around the door, a beautiful field of golden grain on the other side, and the Derbyshire hills in the background.
The travelers alighted, and to Emmie's wondering gaze the inside of this pretty abode was exposed. The parlor, the play-room, the garden, all seemed wonderful to her, especially when the child was told this was to be her home with her mother and grandmother.
Elizabeth had been told to trouble about nothing, that all would be provided for her, as she had every comfort she needed and a comfortable income; still she had to study economy, and she delighted to move about the house in domestic enjoyment, thankful to the God of With her own hands, the.
With her own hands, the trio are made happy. The home-made bread, the clotted cream, and new-laid eggs are often added to the usual plain fare, and on certain occasions (red letter days to the little one) Emmie is seen running with out-stretched arms to welcome her uncle and aunt, who always are so loving and kind, and what joy is seen in her grandmother's countenance at such glad reunions.
The little one's prattle and her loving ways are helping to brighten the aged pilgrim's days as she descends the hill of life to ascend the heights of glory; and Elizabeth can thank the God of Israel for giving her such a mother, for through her she first learned to know the One who had been her Guard and Guide when she had breasted oft the crested wave of this world's troubled sea, and had at last given her rest.
This world has many attractions for the young and inexperienced, and that mother is blest indeed who has attracted her children around her own fireside, who has sought to make home the happiest place on earth, and early taught them a Savior's love and to love the name of Jesus, until those children have learned to say,
“There is no Friend like Jesus,
There is no place like home.”
That home unto which all His are hastening
“That home which is better far
Than any earthly home can be.”
Poor Elizabeth, after all she had gone through, was truly thankful for this haven of rest, where she could train and educate her child, if spared to her. She dwells not on the past in sorrow, but only to remember all the way the Lord hath led her.
And thus the days passed smoothly and happily on, God had dealt very tenderly with the widow and fatherless. After the storm came the sunshine, and oft could be heard coming from that widowed heart:
“How good is the God I adore,
My faithful, unchangeable Friend,
Whose love is as great as His power,
And knows neither measure nor end.
“'Tis Jesus, the First and the Last,
Whose Spirit will guide me safe home;
I'll praise Him for all that is past,
And trust Him for all that's to come.”
Elizabeth does not expect to be exempt from all trouble; but she knows that He who has brought her hitherto, and who has said, “As thy days, so shall thy strength be," will be with her all the way, even unto the end, until she bids adieu to earth and rests forever in the fair Eden above.
Farewell, Elizabeth! It is a rugged road that leads to God—
“But there with all the blood-bought throng,
From sin and sorrow free,
Thou'lt sing the new eternal song,
Of Jesus' love to thee.
“Now in a song of grateful praise,
To our dear Lord the song we'll raise:
For above the rest this note shall swell—
Our Jesus bath done all things well.
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