I looked upon her sunburnt, wrinkled countenance, and thought it radiant with moral beauty. She wore no cap, and her thin grey hair was combed back from her furrowed brow. Her dress was a blue woollen skirt, and a short loose gown; and her hard shrivelled hands bore witness to much unfeminine labor. Yet she was contented, and even happy, and singing praise to God for his blessings.
The next winter I thought I could perceive a faltering in her gait whenever she ascended Church Hill; and one Sabbath she was not in her accustomed seat. The next, she was also absent; and when I looked upon Pine Hill, I could perceive no smoke issuing from her chimney. I felt anxious, and requested liberty to make, what was then in our neighborhood an unusual occurrence, a Sabbath visit. My mother granted me permission to go, and remain as long as my services might be necessary; and at the close of the afternoon worship, I went to the little house upon the hill. I listened eagerly for some sound as I entered the cold apartment; but hearing none, I tremblingly approached the low hard bed. She was lying there with the same calm look of resignation, and whispered a few words of welcome as I took her hand.
"You are sick and alone," said I to her; "tell me what I can do for you."
"I am sick," was her reply, "but not alone. He who is every where, and at all times present, has been with me, in the day and in the night. I have prayed to him, and received answers of mercy, love, and peace. He has sent His angel to call me home, and there is nought for you to do but to watch the spirit's departure."
I felt that it was so; yet I must do something. I kindled a fire, and prepared some refreshment; and after she drank a bowl of warm tea, I thought she looked better. She asked me for her Bible, and I brought her the worn volume which had been lying upon the little stand. She took from it a soiled and much worn letter, and after pressing it to her lips, endeavored to open it—but her hands were too weak, and it dropped upon the bed. "No matter," said she, as I offered to open it for her; "I know all that is in it, and in that book also. But I thought I should like to look once more upon them both. I have read them daily for many years till now; but I do not mind it—I shall go soon."
She followed me with her eyes as I laid them aside, and then closing them, her lips moved as if in prayer. She soon after fell into a slumber, and I watched her every breath, fearing it might be the last.
What lessons of wisdom, truth and fortitude were taught me by that humble bed-side! I had never before been with the dying, and I had always imagined a death-bed to be fraught with terror. I expected that there were always fearful shrieks and appalling groans, as the soul left its clay tenement; but my fears were now dispelled. A sweet calmness stole into my inmost soul, as I watched by the low couch of the sufferer; and I said, "If this be death, may my last end be like hers."
But at length I saw that some dark dream had brought a frown upon the pallid brow, and an expression of woe around the parched lips. She was endeavoring to speak or to weep, and I was about to awaken her, when a sweet smile came like a flash of sunlight over her sunken face, and I saw that the dream of woe was exchanged for one of pleasure. Then she slept calmly, and I wondered if the spirit would go home in that peaceful slumber. But at length she awoke, and after looking upon me and her little room with a bewildered air, she heaved a sigh, and said mournfully, "I thought that I was not to come back again, but it is only for a little while. I have had a pleasant dream, but not at first. I thought once that I stood in the midst of a vast multitude, and we were all looking up at one who was struggling on a gallows. O, I have seen that sight in many a dream before, but still I could not bear it, and I said, 'Father, have mercy;' and then I thought that the sky rolled away from behind the gallows, and there was a flood of glory in the depth beyond; and I heard a voice saying to him who was hanging there, 'This day shalt thou be with me in Paradise!' And then the gallows dropped, and the multitude around me vanished, and the sky rolled together again; but before it had quite closed over that scene of beauty, I looked again, and they were all there. Yes," added she with a placid smile, "I know that he is there with them; the three are in heaven, and I shall be there soon."
She ceased, and a drowsy feeling came over her. After a while she opened her eyes with a strange look of anxiety and terror. I went to her, but she could not speak, and she pressed my hand closely, as though she feared I would leave her. It was a momentary terror, for she knew that the last pangs were coming on. There was a painful struggle, and then came rest and peaceful confidence. "That letter," whispered she convulsively; and I went to the Bible, and took from it the soiled paper which claimed her thoughts even in death. I laid it in her trembling hands, which clasped it nervously, and then pressing it to her heart, she fell into that slumber from which there is no awakening.
When I saw that she was indeed gone, I took the letter, and laid it in its accustomed place; and then, after straightening the limbs, and throwing the bed-clothes over the stiffening form, I left the house.