“Come, Moggy, you’ll stare my shipmate out of countenance, for he’s a bashful man, though a brave one,” cried Frank, who fancied that his friend did not like the scrutiny he was undergoing. Frank produced the effect he wished, and Moggy at once resumed the placid manner she had of late exhibited.
“Your pardon, sir; strange fancies come over me at times, though it’s seldom now I get as bad as I used to be,” said Moggy. “I forgot how time passes, ay, and what changes time works, but I will not trouble you with my wild fancies. Your honoured father has shown me how I may put them to flight by prayer, by looking to Him who died for us, and then all becomes peace, and joy, and contentment.”
“Moggy was just going to give me an account of her early days when you arrived,” said Anna.
“I shall like very much to hear all about her, if Moggy will put off her history till another day,” remarked Frank. “I promised to return home again without delay, so we must not remain any longer.”
“Remember, children dear, time is in God’s hand, not ours. We propose, but He disposes as He knows best. He may think fit to let me live, to enjoy the comforts you have provided for me in my old age, or He may think fit to call me home; but while I live my wish will be to please you if I can benefit you, and my last prayers will be for your welfare.”
“Oh, you must live on for many a day, and we must hear your story over and over again, till we know it by heart,” cried Frank, about to go.
“Once for me to tell and once for you to hear would be enough, my dear lad,” said Moggy, shaking her head.
“Good-bye, mother, good-bye,” said Tom, his heart evidently touched by the poor old woman’s condition.
“Fare thee well, my son, fare thee well. May Heaven prosper thee and guard thee on the perilous waters,” answered Moggy, gazing intently at him as before. “So like thy countenance, and thy manners.”
The rest of the party uttered their farewells, and leaving the hut, took their way down the mountain.