 26 Home The happy days went by until there came a summer when Minnie was eight years old and Gracie was four. We spent the most of that summer together, the aunties and uncles and cousins, all at the dear old home, Grandpa's house. It was a summer which we will never forget any of us. It was a very sad summer, and yet a pleasant one. The dear Grandpa was sick, very sick. We knew that he would not get well. I cannot tell you how this made our hearts ache when we thought of ourselves, and yet, as I told you, it was a pleasant time. I think that sick room was the pleasantest place I was ever in. When I was a little girl, I used to hope that I should never have to be with anybody who was very sick. I thought it would be so dreadful to look at anybody knowing that he was going to die. I found out that it made a great difference who it was and how he felt himself. Grandpa was willing to die. He was not one bit afraid of it. He used to say to me, It is nice to have my children all about me, and it seems sad sometimes that I must go and leave them. Sad for them, I mean. But what a blessed thing it will be when we all get up there where none of us will have to go away any more. It will be a vacation there all the time, won't it? This he said, because for many years some of us had only been at the old home when there was vacation. Much of the time that summer, Minnie spent with me in Grandpa's room. It was her delight to fan him, to arrange the pillows for him, to read to him in her soft, gentle voice, to sing to him when he was restless and feverish. Many a time he would say to me, Where is Minnie? Doesn't she want to come and say her little piece for me? A short time before that she had commenced going to school, and there she learned to recite many little pieces. One that Grandpa used to love to hear, I will copy here for you. Jesus bids us shine with a clear, pure light, like a little candle burning in the night. In the world is darkness, so we must shine. You in your little corner and I in mine. Jesus bids us shine, first of all, for him. While he sees and knows it, if our light is dim, he looks down from heaven to see us shine. You in your little corner and I in mine. Jesus bids us shine, then for all around. Many kinds of darkness in the world are found. There's sin, there's want, there's sorrow, so we must shine. You in your little corner and I in mine. Her voice was low and sweet, especially when she was reciting for Papa, and many a time have I seen his dear hand go up to wipe away the tears as she said these earnest words. I hope she will shine. He said to me one day when she had said her little peace and gone, I hope she will be a true light showing the way to others, helping them to get through the dangerous places in the world and land safely in heaven. He was very fond of hearing her sing and perhaps the peace that he loved the best and called for the oftenest was rest for the weary. One summer afternoon the shades in Grandpa's room were partly dropped to keep out the glare of light. The birds outside were singing, and the soft summer wind brought the breath of flowers in at the open window. Grandma had gone to lie down for a few minutes of much needed rest. Each one of the large family was busy doing something for the future comfort of the dear grandpa, and many and I were on garden his room, charged by Grandma to call her the minute he seemed tired or asked where she was. For often and often during the long weary days there came times when only Grandma could do things to rest and help him. We children, try as we might, were as nothing to the dear wife who had taken such a long journey with him ever since the early morning of life. Many had a long branch from off the elm tree, which she gently waved to and fro to keep the flies from troubling Grandpa, and as she waved it she talked in her low, gentle voice about the school and the lessons and the plays. For Grandpa, in all his weakness and his pain, never lost his interest in everything that had to do with this darling grandchild. Pretty soon he said, Now you may read a few verses for me from the book, and then you and Mini will sing. I knew very well what the book was. It was a long time since he had cared for any but the one book that had been his friend for so many years, so I got his own large print Bible, all full of leaves turned down and verses marked. No need to ask which was his favorite. He had left marks of his love all through the book. On this afternoon I read verses here and there as my eye caught a mark. And they shall see his face, and his name shall be in their foreheads, and there shall be no night there, and the ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion with songs, and everlasting joy shall be upon their heads. Isn't that the way it reads? I am trying to recall these verses from memory. I have thought of them so many times, it is not likely I shall make many mistakes. This was one. Fear not, for I have redeemed thee. I have called thee by thy name, thou art mine. I know that it was almost the dearest first to my father in the whole Bible. Ah, he would say. Isn't that a triumph? What can Satan do after that? Thou art mine. Yes, indeed, I am his. He has called me by my name. After the verses were read, as many of them as I thought his tired head could bear, he said, Now the hymn, I am getting tired. You may sing rest for the weary. I shall soon know what kind of a rest that is. Many came and stood by my side. Her voice trembled a little. If she had not tried very hard to keep it steady, she would have cried. She seemed to feel that grandpa was slipping away from her, but she knew he wanted to hear her sing, so she choked back the tears, like a strong-hearted little girl as she was, and sang low and clear his favorite verse. He is fitting up my mansion, which eternally shall stand, for my station not be transient in that holy, happy land. Pain nor sickness there shall enter, grief nor woe my heart shall share, but in that celestial center I a crown of life shall wear. Then the chorus, with its oft-repeated sentence, there is rest for the weary. That is it. He said, when we finished it, I had not sung much, just a softly little tone, to let Minnie feel that I was helping her, partly because some way I could not trust my voice, and partly because I knew that grandpa wanted to hear his little darling sing it once more. That is it. Thank you. I don't know, but it seems to me that the angels cannot sing much sweeter than that. I shall think of it when I hear them sing. I know I shall. How soon it will be now, a few days more at the longest, and I shall go to my crown of life, and then in a little while you will all come. My little singer must be sure to come to sing for me there. He was still for a minute, then he said, I guess I will rest me for a little. You may call your mother now. So we went out softly and left him. That was the last song and the last talk that Minnie and I had with the dear, dear grandpa. In the gray light of the early summer morning the Jesus whom he loved sent an angel to bring him home to the rest that he had prepared for the weary. I cannot tell you much about that morning, about how beautiful the dear face looked with the peace of God upon it, with the weary, painful look that had lasted through so many days gone out. Seeing at him we could not doubt that the rest had surely come. But oh, how desolate it was to think that he had gone from us, that perhaps it would be so long, so long, before we could see him again. My sad heart felt like repeating Minnie's desolate wail. Oh, Auntie Bell, if he could only have taken us all right up to heaven with him, how sweet it would have been! We had many anxious thoughts about Gracie during that long morning. She was sleeping peacefully when her grandpa went away and we dreaded the awakening. She had seemed too young to understand about the coming death. She had been the only one in the house who had gone brightly, merrily, through the days while we were stepping softly and waiting. But now that the dear face had changed and the dear voice could speak to her no more, we feared that when she realized it her little heart would break with grief, for she loved her grandpa. Very gently Mama tried to explain it to her when at last she opened her eyes. Very carefully the loving mother tried to choke back her own grief and speak cheerfully to the little girl. It was a strange story that in the night Jesus had made up his mind that he wanted grandpa in heaven. Grandpa had been sick and suffering for a long, long time, and Jesus had said to an angel, I don't want Gracie's dear, good grandpa to have any more pain or trouble. You may go down and bring him up to me. Shall we ever forget the brightness that glowed on that sweet baby face as she said, clasping her hands together and speaking earnestly? Well, I can be happy if he has gone to heaven! And not you? Dear little boys and girls, my story is ended. Both Minnie and Gracie are living now. They are a good deal older. Grandpa has been four years in heaven. I might tell you much about them, but some way the brightness has gone out of my story. I should miss the constant presence and love and care of the dear grandpa. So would you. I think you have learned to love him during these talks that we have had together about him. I want you to remember that this is not a story in a book about some people who never lived. We are just as much alive today as you are, and grandpa is just as much in heaven as you are on earth. What I want of you is to be sure to get acquainted with him. There is no telling how many of you may meet Minnie and Gracie and talk with them here on earth. It will be strange if some of you don't. But as many of you as want to see the dear grandpa must get ready to go over the river where he lives. Isn't it nice to think that we are all invited to the same beautiful city? Be sure that none of you are too late to get in. Lovingly, Pansy.