Those gracious words from our sympathizing Saviour, soothed our grief, and were balm to our wounded hearts. When we arose from our knees, we felt a new attraction to our home beyond the skies. We were the parents of an angel.
_Sat.u.r.day, March 17th._
I feel a painful pleasure in thinking over every circ.u.mstance connected with the sickness and death of my sweet child. While I write, my little Pauline, who has wept herself sick at the loss of her dear brother, is sitting on a cricket at my feet with her head resting in my lap. She is trying to restrain the sobs which ever and anon burst out afresh, from her tender, affectionate heart.
"Mamma," says the trembling voice, "will you please tell me more about that happy place where my brother has gone? Is he playing on his harp now?" I have quieted her by the promise that when I have written a letter to her grandmamma in England, I will read it to her.
On Thursday, the eighth of this month, our beautiful boy appeared perfectly well. The weather, which had been very windy and bleak, was unusually mild, and the children could hardly contain their joy at being able to be out of doors. Walter was warmly clad and placed in his wagon, while Pauline was only too happy in helping Ann to draw him round the garden. About ten o"clock the sun was so warm that the walks became damp from the melting of the frost, and I called them in. Walter was put into his crib for his nap, which was undisturbed. When he awoke I gazed at him with pride. His eyes were perfectly brilliant with beauty, his lips were red as coral and his cheeks rivalled the blush of the rose. As I held him in my arms and pushed back the curls from his broad, n.o.ble brow, so like his father"s, my heart said, "what a beautiful boy, and he is my own." I was astonished to find him so ready to sit quietly in my lap while Pauline, by every art of which she was capable, was trying to decoy him away. He laughed aloud at her antics as she danced about the room, hiding behind the door, and then with a merry shout bursting out upon him; but when she said "brother, hide now," he would lay his head on my breast, and lisp, "tay with mamma." He sat thus nearly an hour, which was so unusual that I began to feel a little alarm. Frank laughed at me for indulging such a feeling, merely because he was quiet; and certainly one could hardly realize danger as they looked upon his face, which was the very picture of health and beauty.
After dinner Ann brought him to me in her arms, saying "he wants to lie quiet, and will not eat his bread and milk." Frank then felt his pulse, and said it was too quick. He gave me a powder for Walter to take if he was no better; but in the course of the afternoon, he slid from my lap, and played an hour or two with his sister. He was not as boisterous as usual, and seemed disposed to yield in everything to Pauline"s wishes.
When I was putting him into bed she said several times, "Isn"t brother a nice boy, mamma?"
When my husband came home, he went directly to the crib, and found him in a gentle perspiration, but still with a feverish pulse. I told him I had bathed his feet in warm water, which he approved, but thought it best to give the powder. When I retired he appeared no worse, and feeling more easy about him, I soon fell asleep.
I was awakened by a loud, shrill noise from the crib, such as I had never before heard. With one bound I was at his side, screaming "Frank, Oh, _Frank_! what can that noise be?"
Alas, no Frank answered! He had been called away. Whether I had forgotten it or never knew it until that moment I cannot tell. But another sound came, more horrible than the first. I ran to Ann"s room and told her to ring for Caesar and Phebe. Then I flew back to my boy, my darling boy. He seemed to be suffocated. I caught him in my arms, and tossed him to catch his breath. Oh! how frightened he looked. Soon Ann and all came rushing into the room.
"Oh, Caesar!" I cried, "where is your master?"
Without another word he went in search of him. Ann ran for mother and sister, while Phebe hurried to the kitchen, and brought some olive oil which she succeeded in pouring down his throat.
"Don"t be scare missus, it"s de croup. Ma.s.s"r Frank cures heaps o"
chilen sick wid it. Ole Phebe knows G.o.d not send for dis chile yet."
I wrung my hands. Before Caesar could have had time to harness I began to expect him back.
Mother soon came in and took my boy from me, telling me to dress. I forgot that I had only thrown on a wrapper. Mother was so calm I began to hope it was not so bad as I feared. She had already sent Phebe for hot water; telling Emily to go to the medicine chest, and procure a bottle of antimonial wine. This she gave at once, and with his little feet and limbs in very warm water, while he was wrapped in blankets, he appeared better. But he looked at me with such an imploring expression as he said "mamma," that the tone stirred the deepest fountains of my heart.
"Oh, my darling!" I cried, "mamma would help you if she could!" Oh, how the little breast heaved; and he grew worse again,--every minute he grew worse. Mother said not a word, but kept administering to him.
"Where can Caesar be?" she said at length, and I knew from her looks she feared the worst.
Then I heard a horse come dashing up to the door, and Frank almost flew into the room.
"Thank G.o.d!" was all that mother could say. The poor father knelt before his boy. His mother told him in a word what she had done. Oh! the look of indescribable agony that pa.s.sed over his face as he found he was _too_ late!
_Our boy was dying!_
Frank would not give up even then, but said "while there is life there is hope." But the breast heaved more feebly--the shrill sound gradually ceased--until lying in the arms of his grandmother, with his father and mother kneeling before him--his precious hand encircling my finger, he gave one last, lingering look at each of the group standing around him, and without a struggle or a sigh--only a slight shudder, he fell sweetly asleep.
After a few moments, so calm, so untroubled was that beautiful brow, so sweetly smiled those ruby lips, that as I gazed, I could not believe the spirit had fled. I could hardly refrain from catching him in my arms.
"Walter! oh, _Walter_!!" I cried, "can"t you speak once more to poor mamma?" I pa.s.sionately kissed his brow, his eyes, his beautiful lips!--oh, how proud I had been of those pouting, red lips; but they would never speak again.
I felt a strong arm put around me, and a kind voice told me I must not stay. My dear husband led me to the library, while mother, with Emily and Ann, performed the last offices for the dearly loved one.
"Oh, Frank!" said I, "why, _why_ were you gone?"
He hid his face in his hands, and his bosom heaved convulsively. It is dreadful to see a man weep. I put my arms around his neck, and we wept long and bitterly. It was so sudden, the blow staggered me. It was now morning. Only yesterday morning, and my Walter was well; now, where is he?
I started. "Oh! what will Pauline say?"
Frank went softly up stairs, and found her quietly sleeping, and he did not awake her. How I dreaded her awaking! When I looked up, as Frank came into the room, I was shocked at the pallor of his countenance; his lips were closely shut, and I started to my feet, almost fearing he were about to fall. He pressed me tightly in his arms for a moment, and then we silently lifted up our hearts to G.o.d for strength to say, "Thy will be done."
After this, I was, myself, astonished at the calmness which stole over me. I went to my chamber, though he would have detained me; and there I saw my little one more beautiful than ever. The impress of heaven was upon his brow!
By his side stood Pauline in her night dress; her long curls hanging carelessly down her back, her eyes distended, her lips parted as if to speak. With one hand she touched the little fingers laid together upon the breast, then started back, awed by the marble coldness. I sprang toward her and caught her in my arms. So quietly had she stepped from her low bed in the adjoining room, and come to see if her brother was awake, that mother and sister who sat weeping at the farther end of the apartment, had not noticed her until I entered.
"Mamma," asked the frightened voice, "what is the matter with my brother? his hands are very cold."
I put a shawl around her, sat down with her in my lap, and began to tell her, but burst into tears. She heard sobbing, and looked from one to another frightened, and wondering.
Emily came and tried to tell her that her dear little brother had gone to G.o.d.
She pointed to the crib, as if to say he was there.
Emily said, "his soul has gone to G.o.d."
"And has papa"s soul gone too?" she asked quickly, "my brother couldn"t go alone; he was too little."
Oh, how my tears burst forth afresh!
"Pauline," said Emily, "the angels came from heaven to take dear little Walter"s soul up to G.o.d. Jesus wanted him there."
"How long will he have to stay there?"
"Oh, Pauline!" I exclaimed, "he will never, _never_ come back, we shall never see him again."
The poor stricken child sobbed aloud. Mother took her from me. "Go to Frank," she whispered, "and I will try to soothe her."
I went below, and softly entered the library, where my dear husband knelt by the sofa, with his face buried in his hands. I went gently to his side, when he put his arm around me. I whispered, "pray for me too."
And in a broken voice, interrupted by convulsive sobs, he did pray that we might not murmur at this stroke of our father"s rod.
After a while, I heard a gentle knock at the door, and Caesar"s voice asking if ma.s.s"r Frank would please eat some breakfast. When he saw me, the poor man cried aloud. Oh! what an idol he had made of his young master! His large faithful heart was swelling with grief, which he had in vain tried to control. I gave him my hand, and found a world of comfort in his sympathizing tears.
"Oh, missus Lenox!" said he sobbing, "I "spects "twas G.o.d"s will."
"Yes, Caesar, but it"s hard for my poor heart to say "Thy will be done."
You must pray for me, Caesar."
"Oh, missus!" said he, "we"se all got to pray for dat."
I left Frank walking the room, and went up stairs where mother was dressing Pauline. Ann I found sitting on a trunk in her chamber, with her head upon the bed, weeping bitterly.
"My good Ann," I said, "will you come in and stay by the side of the crib while we are below?" I tried to compose myself, but broke down again.