Old Tommy smiled at the boy’s eagerness; but looking upward, he answered: “I love it as the first, brightest gift of Our Father. I see in it the purest emblem of Him whose dwelling is the light.” After a moment’s silence, he extended his hands over the children’s heads, saying fervently, “Pour thy light into their souls, O Father, that, the eyes of the mind being opened, they may see Thee in all thy works!” Then taking Nelly by the hand, he asked, if they were not too soon for school.
“Yes,” answered she; “for we came to hear the bells chime. It’s so pleasant, Uncle Tommy, perhaps you will tell us something. Just a little while, till the teachers come.”
“O yes, do now, Uncle Tommy, tell us some of the nice stories you know,” chimed in the whole group.
“I’ll be still as a mouse, if you will,” coaxed a lively child, whose ceaseless motion usually disturbed all quiet talk.
Uncle Tommy patted her curly head, and good-naturedly consented to gratify them, “if they would try and be good as the flowers in the meadow yonder.”
“Yes, yes, we will,” shouted they.
“Now lean on me, and I’ll help you, Uncle Tommy,” said Nelly, who usually assumed the charge of him when she found an opportunity. So, with one hand resting upon her shoulder, and the other supported by his staff, the old man, who looked older now, as his hat shaded his face, moved feebly forward, surrounded by the happy children. They walked a few steps beyond the corner of the church, and soon came to a projection in one of the buttresses, that was often used by the people as a seat in summer; hither they carefully led Uncle Tommy, who could still enjoy his beloved sunshine, whilst he rested his weary limbs. It was a sight worthy of an artist’s pencil; the ancient stone church, the venerable man, the young children, the lofty trees, the birds, the shadows, the sunlight, and the graves.
“Sha’n’t I take off your hat,” asked John, “so you can feel warm?” and away went the hat, to the mutual satisfaction of Uncle Tommy and the children; for they loved him, and liked to see his white hair in the bright sunbeams,—“looking exactly like the ‘Mary’s threads’ on the dewy grass, so silvery and shiny,” Nelly used to say.
“What are you going to tell us?” urged the impatient little Janette, softly.
He looked all around before speaking; up at the distant blue sky flooded with light; abroad upon the fields clothed in richest verdure; at the gently rustling elms; the oaks, the yews, and hemlocks in the quiet churchyard; the eager living group at his feet; all were seen in that one comprehensive glance. “It is my birthday, little people,” said he, at length, smilingly nodding to them.