The hour of rest had come, and the mother opened the large family Bible, that they might together remember and thank Him, who had preserved them through the day. When Frank and Edward took leave of her for the night, they were grieved to see that there were tears in her eyes. They lingered by her side, hoping she would tell them if any thing had troubled her. But she only said, "My sons, my dear sons, before you sleep, pray to God for a heart to love peace."
After they had retired, Frank said to his brother,
"I cannot feel that it is wrong to be a soldier. Was not our father one? I shall never forget the fine stories he used to tell me about battles, when I was almost a baby. I remember that I used to climb up on his knee, and put my face close to his. Then I used to dream of prancing horses, and glittering swords, and sounding trumpets, and wake up and wish I was a soldier. Indeed, Edward, I wish so now. But I cannot tell dear mother what is in my heart, for it would grieve her."
"No, no, don't tell her so, dear Frank, and pray, never be a soldier. I have heard her say, that father's ill health, and most of his troubles, came from the life that he led in camps. He said on his death-bed, that if he could live his youth over again, he would be a meek follower of the Saviour, and not a man of blood."
"Edward, our father was engaged in the war of the Revolution, without which we should all have been slaves. Do you pretend to say that it was not a holy war?"
"I pretend to say nothing, brother, only what the Bible says, Render to no man evil for evil, but follow after the things that make for peace."
The boys had frequent conversations on the subject of war and peace. Their opinions still continued to differ. Their love for their mother, prevented their holding these discourses often in her presence; for they perceived that Frank's admiration of martial renown gave her increased pain. She devoted her life to the education and happiness of her children. She secured for them every opportunity in her power, for the acquisition of useful knowledge, and both by precept and example urged them to add to their "knowledge, temperance, and to temperance, brotherly kindness, and to brotherly kindness, charity."
This little family were models of kindness and affection among themselves. Each strove to make the others happy. Their fire-side was always cheerful, and the summer evening walks which the mother took with her children were sources both of delight and improvement.
Thus years passed away. The young saplings which they had cherished grew up to be trees, and the boys became men. The health of the kind and faithful mother became feeble. At length, she visibly declined. But she wore on her brow the same sweet smile which had cheered their childhood.
Eliza watched over her, night and day, with the tenderest care. She was not willing that any other hand should give the medicine, or smooth the pillow of the sufferer. She remembered the love that had nurtured her own childhood, and wished to perform every office that grateful affection could dictate.