"No sir, it don"t scare me," he said, "but I hope I won"t have to be sick as long as Bessie."
Both were soon hanging in the balances, Bessie in one room, Charlie in another. Charlie wanted to be taken over into Bessie"s room, that they both might be sick together.
Day and night the two little patients were closely watched. Charlie was heard making a noise, and they listened to catch the voice. He was suffering great pain but humming the tune in the hymnal, number 118,--not saying the words, but just humming the tune. Often he would ease his pain with this heaven medicine. Twice he was heard to speak distinctly. Once he said "Lord" and again it was "heaven." His lips would move but no sound was heard. The sound was heard in heaven, I suppose. Angels responded to the call of that little child of G.o.d. On Friday morning, even before the rays of morning light began to come, his spirit was borne away to be with Jesus in the heavenly land.
In the morning Bessie"s papa was sitting by her bedside, looking sadly on the little form of his only child. "Papa," she said "why don"t you have the door open in Charlie"s room? He"ll be so lonely with the door shut." But he made no reply. "Papa," she continued "why do you stay here with me? Take care of Charlie. I"m afraid he"s going to die."
Little by little her papa told her then, all about it, and she bathed her fevered pillow with her tears.
The doctor came. He knew the fact without being told, and he sat down and wept.
Sunday, Charlie"s little form was laid away to rest in the cemetery at Waynesboro. And at the same time when that sorrowful little company were journeying thither, the little readers of the _Young Disciple_ were reading his letter all over the land. The letter is given below, but we will add the date, not the date that it was written, but the date it was read, the date of his burial.
His life is closed in this world, but the influence of it will go on forever. Three dates will tell the story of that life.
Birth, March 31, 1880.
Second Birth, Nov. 27, 1892.
Borne to glory, March 10, 1893.
THE LETTER.
Ringgold, Md.
March 12, 1893.
Our family consists of a dear kind papa and mama, sister Bessie and myself. We all attend church and Sunday-school regularly. Our Sunday school has closed for this season, but will open again in the spring. Papa and mamma and myself are members of the Brethren church. I am twelve years old. I am studying hard to get a good education, and I hope to grow up to be a good man; and when Bro.
W. B. Stover goes to India, I feel as though I would like to go out to him in his missionary work. I will close now by asking an interest in the prayers of all the faithful.
Charlie Martin Newcomer.
CHAPTER VIII.
BESSIE.
Four weeks after the close of the life of her little brother, Bessie was able to be out of bed and around about the house once more. With the return of her health grew her anxiety for the church. And in a comparatively short time, Bessie was received into the church by baptism. She was but a mere child, "tis true, and that is what she is yet. But what is to be done with the children? Is the church not for them? Did Christ not die for them? Does "all the world" exclude children? What does "in" signify, in "bringing up children in the Lord?" What does "come" mean, when the Savior says "Suffer the children to come unto me, and forbid them not"? and what is the meaning of those last three words?
In the Antietam church were a good many good Christians who looked rather doubtfully on the question of children in church. The little girl spoken of in the beginning of chapter five was the first of the children in that congregation to join the church. Others followed, and when Charlie died _in the church_, all were so much rejoiced in his triumphant faith, that the matter was practically no longer a question at all. Very many little Christians now bring blessing to the congregation, and they are often the best in the family to which they may belong.
I questioned Bessie the other day to learn more of her present position, now that she is in the church. I will give to all, the benefit of her good answers.
"How old are you, Bessie?"
"Ten years."
"Some people think ten years is too young to be a member of the church."
"I don"t think so."
"Why?"
"Because I think they can do right just as good as older people."
"When were you baptized?"
"Last summer in July."
"How do you know that you love Jesus?"
"Because,--well, I just know it."
"Suppose sometime you should sin, then what?"
"I"d just pray to G.o.d to forgive me."
"Are you sure He"d forgive you?"
"Yes sir. The Bible says so."
"How does it come you did not want to wait till you grew up, like many others do?"
"Because I might die and not be saved."
"Suppose at school some of the other scholars tease you, then what?"
"I wouldn"t say nothing."
"How long did you want to join the church before last summer?"
"O, I often thought about it. I was under conviction a good while."
"What does it mean to be under conviction?"
"Well,"--and I saw that I had asked a harder question than I thought.
After thinking a moment she said, "I just feel like crying all the time."
"What about, Bessie?"
"About things I done wrong."
"What things?"