LETTER TO MR. PUTNEY'S GRANDDAUGHTER, MARY LANE
South Weymouth, Mass.,
February 6, 1920.
Dear Mary:
May I tell you a little story? It has largely to do with one whom you loved and who loved you very much. You called him "Grandpa."
The story begins sixty-four years ago this coming spring, when two brothers, a big brother of sixteen years and a little brother of eight years, started out together one morning for school. They were going to attend a private school, for a few weeks, in a strange district about two miles from their home. The little brother would have been afraid to go that long distance alone; but he had all confidence in his big brother, whom he loved very dearly.
They had not been in that school very long when the teacher discovered that the big brother was the best scholar he had. Very soon the teacher asked him to help him in his work. Do you think the big brother refused?
One day the teacher was ill and could not attend school. He sent word by one of his pupils that he wanted his best scholar to take charge of the school for the day. Well, that was a trying experience for a boy of sixteen; but that boy commanded the respect of all the pupils of that school; so he undertook the task and with wonderful success. He had no difficulty with any of the pupils although some of them were older than himself. Perhaps the little brother wasn't proud to have such a big brother! It was about this time that the little fellow began to notice how earnestly his older brother was trying to do right in every way; it made a great impression upon him.
The few weeks of private school ended and the big brother soon opened the summer term of school in his home district. In spite of his youth he was appointed teacher and all the people of the district seemed very glad. Among his pupils were little brother, two other brothers, and a sister.
The teacher was so successful in his work that the parents in the district wanted him to teach another and another term. He did so; but all the time he was studying to prepare himself for larger work. He took advantage of every opportunity to attend school for a term or two at a time in some academy, until he became fitted for college. Meanwhile he was deeply interested in his younger brothers and sister and doing all he could to help them along in their studies.
About the time he was sixteen years old he heard a voice that seemed to say to him, "Go, work in my vineyard!" That voice meant everything to him; he was eager, therefore, to obey it. To work in the vineyard meant doing good, helping others, being unselfish, giving strength and cheer when needed. We all know how well he did his work in the Master's vineyard and through how many years he sowed the good seed.
A few weeks ago, the little brother, to whom I have referred, was looking forward to the coming of big brother's eightieth birthday and wishing that he could give expression to something worthy of the brother and his wonderful life-work. While he knew that he was not equal to an ideal accomplishment of such a pleasant task, he made one of his attempts and wrote the few lines enclosed, finishing them a very few days before the sad news of Grandpa's fatal illness reached him. He has made no change in them, realizing that you will understand that he was fondly hoping that his eightieth birthday would find big brother in his usual health and strength. So, with a heart heavy with grief, yet full of loving and grateful memories of my dear big brother, I am telling you this little story and sending you the accompanying tribute to one of the best men that ever lived.
And now, with much love to yourself and all the members of your home, the little brother of sixty-four years ago wishes to sign himself
Your affectionate
Uncle Freeman.