Holiday House: A Series of Tales

by Catherine Sinclair

  CHAPTER XVII.

  THE LAST BIRTH-DAY.

  Mere human power shall fast decay, And youthful vigour cease; But they who wait upon the Lord, In strength shall still increase.

  Frank felt no unnatural apathy or indifference about dying, for helooked upon it with awe, though not with fear; nor did he express anyrapturous excitement on the solemn occasion, knowing that death is anappointed penalty for transgression, which, though deprived of itssharpest sting by the triumphs of the cross, yet awfully testifies toall succeeding generations, that each living man has individuallymerited the utmost wrath of God, and that the last moment on earth, ofeven the most devoted Christian, must be darkened by the gloom of ouroriginal sin and natural corruption. Yet, "as in Adam all die, so inChrist are all made alive;" and amidst the throng of consolatory andaffecting meditations that crowded into his mind on the great subject ofour salvation, he kept a little book in which were carefully recordedsuch texts and reflections as he considered likely to strengthen his ownfaith, and to comfort those he left behind--saying one day to MajorGraham,

  "Tell grandmama, that though my days have been few upon the earth, theywere happy! When you think of me, uncle David, after my sufferings areover, it may well be a pleasing remembrance, that you were always thebest, the kindest of friends. Oh! how kind! but I must not--cannot speakof that----. This is my birth-day!--my last birth-day! Many a joyous onewe kept together, but those merry days are over, and these sadder onestoo shall cease; yet the time is fast approaching, so welcome to usboth,

  'When death-divided friends at last Shall meet to part no more.'"

  In the evening, Major Graham observed that Frank made Mrs. Crabtreebring everything belonging to him, and lay it on the table, when heemployed himself busily in tying up a number of little parcels,remarking, with a languid smile,

  "My possessions are not valuable, but these are for some old friends andmessmates, who will be pleased to receive a trifling memorial of one wholoved them. Send my dirk to Peter Grey, who is much reformed now. Hereare all the letters any of you ever sent me; how very often they havebeen read! but now, even that intercourse must end; keep them, for theywere the dearest treasures I possessed. At Madras, formerly, I rememberhearing of a nabob who was bringing his whole fortune home in a chest ofgold, but the ropes for hoisting his treasure on board were soinsufficient, that the whole gave way, and it fell into the ocean, neverto be recovered. That seemed a very sudden termination of his hopes andplans, but scarcely more unexpected than my own. 'We are a wind thatpasseth away and cometh not again.' Many restless nights are ordainedfor me now, probably that I may find no resource but prayer andmeditation. Others can afford time to slumber, but I so soon shall sleepthe sleep of death, that it becomes a blessing to have such hours ofsolitary thought, for preparing my heart and establishing my faith,during this moment of need."

  "Yes, Frank! but your prayers are not solitary, for ours are joined toyours," added Laura. "I read in an old author lately, that Christianfriends in this world might be compared to travellers going along thesame road in separate carriages--sometimes they are together--often theyare apart--sometimes they can exchange assistance, as we do now--andoften they jostle against each other, till at last, having reached thejourney's end, they are removed out of these earthly vehicles into abetter state, where they shall look back upon former circumstances, andknow even as they are known."

  Laura was often astonished to observe the change which had taken placein her own character and feelings within the very short period of theirdistress. Her extreme terror of a thunder-storm formerly, had occasionedmany a jest to her brothers, when Harry used, occasionally, to rollheavy weights in the room above her own, to imitate the loudest peals,while Frank sometimes endeavoured to argue her out of that excessiveapprehension with which she listened to the most distant surmise of astorm. Now, however, at Hammersmith, long after midnight, the moon, onone occasion, became completely obscured by dense heavy clouds, and theair felt so oppressively hot, that Frank, who seemed unusuallybreathless, drew closer to the window. Laura supported his head, and wasdeeply occupied in talking to him, when suddenly a broad flash oflightning glared into the room, followed by a crash of thunder, thatseemed to crack the very heavens. Again and again the lightning gleamedin her face with such vividness, that Laura fancied she coulddistinguish the heat of it, and yet she stirred not, nor did a singleexclamation, as in former days, arise on her lips.

  "Pray shut the window, Laura," said Frank languidly, raising his eyes;"and be so kind as to close the shutters!"

  "Why, Frank?--you never used to be alarmed by thunder!"

  "No! nor am I now, dear Laura. What danger need a dying person fear?Some few hours sooner or later would be of little consequence--

  Come he slow, or come he fast, It is but death that comes at last.

  Yet, Laura, do you think I have forgotten old times! Oh, no!--not whileI live. You attend to my feelings, and surely it is my duty to rememberyours."

  "Never mind me, Frank!" whispered Laura. "I have got over all thatfolly. When real fears and sorrows come, we care no more about thosethat were imaginary."

  "True, my dear sister; and there is no courage or fortitude like thatderived from faith in a superintending providence. Though all creationreel, we may sleep in peace, for to Christians 'danger is safe, andtumult calm.'"

  When Frank grew worse, he became often delirious. Yet as in health hehad been habitually cheerful, his mind generally wandered to agreeablesubjects. He fancied himself walking on the bright meadows, and pickingflowers by the river side,--meeting Lady Harriet,--and even speaking tohis father, as if Sir Edward had been present; while Harry and Lauralistened, weeping and trembling, to behold the wreck of such a mind andheart as his. One evening, he seemed unusually well, and requested thathis arm-chair might be wheeled to the open window, where he gazed withdelight at the hills and meadows,--the clouds and glittering water,--thecattle standing in the stream,--the boats reflected on its surface,--andthe roses fluttering at every casement.

  "Those joyous little birds!--their song makes me cheerful," said he, ina tone of placid enjoyment. "I have been in countries where the birdsnever sing, and the leaves never fade; but they excited no sympathy orinterest. Here we have notes of gladness both in sunshine and storm,teaching us a lesson of grateful contentment,--while those droopingroses preach a sermon to me, for as easily might they recover freshnessand bloom as myself. We shall both lie low before long in the dust, yeta spring shall come hereafter to revive even 'the ashes of the urn.'Then, uncle David, we meet again,--not as now, amidst sorrow andsuffering, with death and separation before us,--but blessed by theconsciousness that our sins are forgiven,--our trials all ended,--andthat our afflictions which were but for a moment, have worked out for usa far more exceeding, even an eternal weight of glory."

  Some hours afterwards the Doctor entered. After receiving a cordialwelcome from Frank, and feeling his pulse, he instantly examined hisarms and neck, which were covered entirely over with small red spots,upon observing which, the friendly physician suddenly changedcountenance, and stole an alarmed glance at Major Graham.

  "I feel easier and better to-day, Doctor, than at any time since myillness," said Frank, looking earnestly in his face. "Do you think thiseruption will do me good? Life has much that would be dear to me, whileI have friends like these to live for. Can it be possible that I may yetrecover?"

  The Doctor turned away, unable to reply, while Frank intensely watchedhis countenance, and then gazed at the pale agitated face of MajorGraham. Gradually the hope which had brightened in his cheek began tofade,--the lustre of his eye became dim,--his countenance settled intoan expression of mournful resignation,--and covering his face with hishands, he said, in a voice of deep emotion,

  "I see how it is!--God's will be done!"

  The silence of death succeeded, while Frank laid his head on the pillowand closed his eyes. A few natural tears coursed each other slowly downhis cheek; but at length,
an hour or two afterwards, being completelyexhausted, he fell into a gentle sleep, from which the Doctor consideredit very doubtful if he would ever awaken, as the red spots indicatedmortification, which must inevitably terminate his life before next day.

  Laura retired to the window, making a strenuous effort to restrain herfeelings, that she might be enabled to witness the last awful scene; andfervently did she pray for such strength to sustain it with fortitude,as might still render her of some use to her dying brother. Her palecountenance might almost have been mistaken for that of a corpse, butfor the expression of living agony in her eye; and she was sunk in deep,solemn thought, when her attention became suddenly roused by observing achariot and four drive furiously up to the gate, while the horses werefoaming and panting as they stopped. A tall gentleman, of exceedinglystriking appearance, sprung hurriedly out, walked rapidly towards thecottage door, and in another minute entered Frank's room, with theanimated look of one who expected to be gladly welcomed, and to occasionan agreeable surprise.

  Harry and Laura shrunk close to their uncle, when the stranger, now inevident agitation, gazed round the room with an air of painfulastonishment, till Major Graham looked round, and instantly started upwith an exclamation of amazement, "Edward! is it possible! This isindeed a consolation! you are still in time!"

  "In time!!" exclaimed Sir Edward, grasping his brother's hand withvehement agitation. "Do you mean to say that Frank is yet in danger!"

  Major Graham mournfully shook his head, and undrawing the bed curtains,he silently pointed to the sleeping countenance of Frank, which was asstill as death, and already overspread by a ghastly paleness. Sir Edwardthen sunk into a chair, and clenched his hands over his forehead with alook of unspeakable anguish, saying, in an under-tone, "Worn out, as Iam, in mind and body, I needed not this to destroy me! Say at once,brother, is there any hope?"

  "None, my dear Edward! None! Even now he is insensible, and I fear withlittle prospect of ever becoming conscious again."

  At this moment Frank opened his eyes, which were dim and glassy, whileit became evident that he had relapsed into a state of temporarydelirium.

  "Get more candles! how very dark it is!" he said. "Who are all thosepeople? Send away everybody but grandmama! I must speak to her alone.Never tell papa of all this, it would only distress him--say nothingabout me. Why do Harry and Laura never come? They have been absent morethan a week! Who took away uncle David too?"

  Laura listened for some time in an agony of grief, till at last, unableany longer to restrain her feelings, she clasped Frank in her arms andburst into tears, exclaiming, in accents of piercing distress, "OhFrank! dear Frank! have you forgotten poor Laura?"

  "Not till I am dead!" whispered he, while a momentary gleam ofrecollection lighted up his face. "Laura! we meet again."

  Sir Edward now wished to speak, but Frank had relapsed into a state offeeble unconsciousness, from which nothing could arouse him; once ortwice he repeated the name of Laura in a low melancholy voice, till itbecame totally inaudible--his breath became shorter--his lips becamelivid--his whole frame seemed convulsed--and some hours afterwards, allthat was mortal of Frank Graham ceased to exist. About four in themorning his body was at rest, and his spirit returned to God who gaveit.

  The candles had burned low in their sockets, and still the mournersremained, unwilling to move from the awful scene of their bereavement.Mrs. Crabtree at length, who laid out the body herself, extinguished thelights, and flung open the window curtains. Then suddenly a bright blazeof sunshine streamed into the room, and rested on the cold pale face ofthe dead. To the stunned and bewildered senses of Harry and Laura, thebrilliant dawn of morning seemed like a mockery of their distress. Manypersons were already passing by--the busy stir of life had begun, and aboy strolling along the road whistled his merry tune as he went gailyon.

  "We are indeed mere atoms in the world!" thought Laura bitterly, whilethese sights and sounds fell heavily on her heart. "If Harry and I hadboth been dead also, the sun would have shone as brightly, the birdssung as joyfully, and those people been all as gay and happy as ever!Nobody is thinking of Frank--nobody knows our misery--the world is goingon as if nothing had happened, and we are breaking our hearts withgrief!"

  Laura's heart became stilled as she gazed on the peaceful and almosthappy expression of those beautiful features, which had now lost allappearance of suffering. The eyes, from which nothing but kindness andlove had beamed upon her, were now closed for ever; the lips which hadspoken only words of generous affection and pious hope, were silent; andthe heart which had beat with every warm and brotherly feeling, was forthe first time insensible to her sorrows; yet Laura did not give way tothe strong excess of her grief, for it sunk upon her spirit with aleaden weight of anguish, which tears and lamentations could notexpress, and could not even relieve. She rose and kissed, for the lasttime, that beloved countenance, which she was never to look upon againtill they met in heaven, and stole away to the silence and solitude ofher own room, where Laura tried in vain to collect her thoughts. Allseemed a dreary blank. She did not sigh--she could not weep; but she satin dark and vacant abstraction, with one only consciousness filling hermind--the bitter remembrance that Frank was dead--that she could be ofno farther use to him--that she could have no future intercourse withhim--that even in her prayers she could no longer have the comfort ofnaming him; and when at last she turned to his own Bible which he hadgiven her, to seek for consolation, her eyes refused their office, andthe pages became blistered with tears.

  After Frank's funeral, Sir Edward became too ill to leave his bed; andMajor Graham remained with him in constant conversation; while Harry andLaura did every thing to testify their affection, and to fill the placenow so sadly vacant.

  On the following Sunday, several of the congregation at Hammersmithobserved two young strangers in the rector's pew, dressed in the deepestmourning, with pale and downcast countenances, who glided early intochurch, and sat immoveably still, side by side, while Mr. Palmer gaveout for his text the affecting and appropriate words which Frank himselfhad often repeated during his last illness, "In an hour that ye thinknot, the Son of man cometh."

  Not a tear was shed by either Harry or Laura,--their grief was too greatfor utterance; yet they listened with breathless interest to the sermon,intended not only to console them, but also to instruct other youngpersons, from the afflicting event of Frank's death.

  Mr. Palmer took this opportunity to describe all the amiabledispositions of youth, and to show how much of what is pleasing mayappear before religion has yet taken entire possession of the mind; buthe painted in glowing colours the beautiful consistency and harmony ofcharacter which must ensue after that happy change, when the Holy Spiritrenews the heart and influences the life. It almost seemed to Harry andLaura as if Frank were visibly before their eyes, when Mr. Palmer spokein eloquent terms of that humility which no praise could diminish--thatbenevolence which attended to the feelings, as well as the wants ofothers,--that affection which was ever ready to make any sacrifice forthose he loved,--that docility which obeyed the call of duty on everyoccasion,--that meekness in the midst of provocation which could not beirritated,--that gentle firmness in maintaining the truths of thegospel, which no opposition could intimidate,--that cheerful submissionto suffering which saw a hand of mercy in the darkest hour,--and thatfaith which was ever "forgetting those things which are behind, andreaching forth unto those things which are before,--pressing toward themark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus."

  It seemed as if years had passed over the heads of Harry and Lauraduring the short period of their absence from home--that home whereFrank had so anxiously desired to go! All was changed within and aroundthem,--sorrow had filled their hearts, and no longer merry, thoughtlesscreatures, believing the world one scene of frolicsome enjoyment andcareless ease; they had now witnessed its realities,--they had felt itstrials,--they had experienced the importance of religion,--they hadlearned the frailty of all earthly joy,-
-and they had received, amidsttears and sorrows, the last injunction of a dying brother, to "call uponthe Lord while He is near, and to seek Him while he may yet be found."

  "Uncle David," said Laura one day, several months after their returnhome, "Mrs. Crabtree first endeavoured to lead us aright byseverity,--you and grandmama then tried what kindness could do, butnothing was effectual till now, when God Himself has laid His hand uponus. Oh! what a heavy stroke was necessary to bring me to my right mind,but now, while we weep many bitter tears, Harry and I often praytogether that good may come out of evil, and that 'we who mourn sodeeply, may find our best, our only comfort from above'."

  Unthinking, idle, wild, and young, I laugh'd, and talk'd, and danc'd, and sung; And proud of health, of frolic vain, Dream'd not of sorrow, care, or pain, Concluding in those hours of glee, That all the world was made for me.

  But when the days of trial came, When sorrow shook this trembling frame, When folly's gay pursuits were o'er, And I could dance or sing no more; It then occurr'd how sad 'twould be Were this world only made for me.

  Princess Amelia.

  THE END.

  +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | | | Transcriber's note: | | | | Archaic spelling has been retained, along with inconsistent | | hyphenation: cheese-cakes/cheesecakes, good-bye/good bye, | | mile-stone/milestone, over-head/overhead, | | play-things/playthings, rail-road/railroad, | | steam-boats/steamboats, tea-pot/teapot. | | | +--------------------------------------------------------------+