ORPHAN BESS.
I am sure that most of our young friends know the meaning of the word "orphan"; and perhaps among the numerous readers of the Little Gleaner are some that are orphans themselves. But if some of the younger ones do not understand what is meant by the word, we must tell them that, when children have lost both parents by death, we call them orphans. Very sad indeed it is to lose both father and mother while young, for no earthly friend can really fill their place. It is of such a child that I am writing a few words, and I trust that our little readers will indeed feel thankful to God if He has spared them both parents, and granted them happy and comfortable homes.
It is more than ten years ago since I first saw her whom I now call Orphan Bess, and her baby sister. The first great shadow had then fallen upon her home, and I had to attend the funeral. This was in March, 1878. A very pale, fragile child our little maid was then, and her baby sister was more delicate still. She then sat on the floor, wondering at the tears of her mother, frightened at the strange faces and people that came to bear her father away, and trying to still the baby, which was wailing in the saddest tones. Oh, how unfit to be thrown on the world—the cold, rough world—without the strong arm of the father, and only the mother to shield! But a Greater Arm than the earthly father supported and maintained, and they were not left alone.
A few months later the baby died, and Bess and the mother were left again.
Years rolled on, and the mother and child struggled on together, and the promise of Him who cares for the widow and fatherless was proved faithful and true in their needs.
But a darker cloud than ever now came, when the mother laid down and died. Ten years had rolled away, and in March, 1888, this great blow came upon Bess. These years had made a great change in our little maid, and when we saw her on the day of the funeral she seemed much altered—still pale and thin, small and fragile, and very deaf. I have seen many affecting sights and many sorrowful cases in my journey through life, but as we stood around the grave of the departed mother and father of Bess, in St. Thomas's churchyard, at Woolwich, on the 17th of March, 1888, I saw the saddest sight of all. The open grave, containing the remains of the father; the coffin ready to be lowered into it, containing the dead mother; and the pale, thin, deaf orphan, standing alone in the world. The blinding snow fell around, and the wind blew piercingly through the graveyard. A large crowd of strange faces, and the chief object of interest the orphan child. What wonder, then, that the child, frightened and trembling, should turn her face away from the coffin and crowd, and hide her sobs in the dress of a kind woman near? Alone in the world now, yet not alone.
The hymn commencing, "For ever with the Lord," is sung softly, and as the strains are heard, we remember that "the Lord liveth." Though father and mother are dead, yet "the Lord liveth," who has promised to look to the orphan, and whose eyes are ever upon the needy. What a position to occupy! No father, no mother, no home, unable to hear, a helpless orphan girl cast upon the world! The words of the poet came into my mind at the moment—
"What is home without a mother?
What are all the joys we meet,
When her gentle smile no longer
Greets the coming of our feet?"
I have omitted one matter, and that is, Bessie's mother was my sister; and the thought came with power into my mind, while I stood at the grave, that while the Lord blessed me with ability and strength, we could share our bread with Bess sooner than see her want.
Father and mother may die, and they must die, but there is One that cannot alter and that cannot fail.
I trust our young friends who read these few lines are interested in our little maid; and if any are living in St. Leonards or Hastings, they may sometimes see a thin, pale girl of twelve years, small for her age, with dark hair, cut short, sharp nose, and keen grey eyes. This is Orphan Bess. Not without friends now, for the Lord has already raised up kind friends and strong arms to help her, and made room for her in many hearts. May the Lord show her further favour by granting her His grace is our sincere prayer, comfort her on earth "as a mother comforteth her children," and be her everlasting Portion in heaven.
Gleaners, you that have fathers and mothers, remember they are your best earthly friends, and think of desolate Bess. Gleaners that are orphans, remember "the Lord liveth," and that He careth for you.
J. D.