Chapter 1. Part 2.
The old man was silent, but after a little while he said, “Alas, my sons, my sons! It is my fault they are so wicked and hard-hearted. I have not been a faithful father to them. I have neglected their training, and allowed them to grow up like trees of the forest. I did not instruct them in the word of God, nor bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. Now they despise and mock me, and are deaf to my pleadings, and harden their hearts against God. 0, God! Thou art just, but terrible are Thy judgments!”
The feeble body of the sick man trembled because of the great emotion. He wept no more, but stared to the ground in agony. William did not know what to say to his sorrowing father. At last he whispered, “Father, could not the Lord Jesus change their hearts? Would He not do it if we asked Him?”
The old man started up out of his brooding, and while relieving tears filled his eyes, said, “My dear child, you are right; the Lord can change their hearts. I have often asked Him for this, and t have confidence that He will answer my prayers in His own time. But let us now together ask the Lord for this again.”
Both knelt at the door of the cabin, and in touching words, the sorrowing father prayed for his lost children. Although William did not understand all the father said, this hour never left his memory all through his life.
After this talk with his little son, the father did not live many days. His condition became worse and he was not able to leave his bed. William was more attentive than ever in serving his dying father. He would leave him for only a moment at a time to get water or anything—the sick man needed. He was continually at the bedside of his beloved father, while Caesar was lying at his feet. It seemed as though the faithful animal knew what was going on.
Again and again the old wood-chopper would lift his eyes and voice heavenward, and then William would fold his hands, too, and join in prayer.
When the last morning began to dawn, he said to William that the Lord had given him the full assurance that his prayers would be answered. “My sins are forgiven,” he whispered, “and I am going to Jesus, my Lord. He will keep you, my dear boy, and, also, save your brothers, through His grace. O, forget not thy Creator in the days of thy youth, as I have done! Give Him your heart, my child; trust Him fully, and do not forget to pray for your brothers.”
Towards evening William’s brothers came home, bringing a deer with them which they had shot, also they had a jug of brandy. After making a hot fire, they roasted a portion of the venison and partook of it, and, also, freely of the brandy. They did not look at their dying father, but asked William to eat with them. Nothing could induce the boy to leave his father, and he remained at his bedside till he could keep his eyes open no longer and fell asleep.
When he awoke early in the morning, his first look was towards his father at his side. He was lying so quietly, that William dared not stir for a long time. At last he whispered, “Father!” There was no answer. He called again, a little louder, “Father, are you asleep?” Again no answer. He took the father’s arm, which hung loosely down the bedside. Alas, it was cold and stiff the life was gone. While William slept, his father went to sleep, never to waken again on this earth. He had gone to be forever with his Lord.
When the truth of this came to the little fellow, he cast himself on the bed, crying most bitterly, and covered the face of the dead one with kisses. William’s crying awoke his brothers who were sleeping in the next room. They came and looked at their dead father without one expression of sorrow, and no tears came from their eyes; their hearts were untouched. They conferred together about what to do with the corpse—whether to let it lie a day, or bury it right away. They concluded to bury it the same day, and with the most heartless indifference, they made preparations to commit the mortal remains of their father to the grave. After filling it, they put a few grass sods on the top, and went back to the cabin, as if nothing had happened.
William remained at the grave, crying and lamenting.
He felt so forsaken and lonely. What should become of him now? He could expect nothing good from his brothers, but rather feared the worst. His only friend on earth that never left him, and even now was at his feet, was his faithful dog. Overcome with grief, he threw his arms around the neck of the creature, Ind, as though he understood the difficulties of his young master, began to whine, and lick the face of the little boy. But was William really altogether forsaken?
Did he not know a truer and mightier Friend than even his father had been to him? The thought of this Friend in heaven, suddenly brought him to himself again, and kneeling down he asked this Friend in simple, childlike manner to help him, and show him what he should do now.
ML 06/13/1909