YOUR MOTHER.
The following letter was addressed to her daughter Alice and her husband Rev. C. C. Filts, when he was very sick. It explains itself, and although it contains matters of a private nature, yet I give it entire to show the beauty and strength of her mind and heart.
_June 26, 1875._
MY DEAR CHILDREN.--I am deeply grieved that the dark hand of affliction should fall on you so soon, and I can hardly realize how hard it has been through all these weary weeks of suffering; but, dear Alice, I hope you have done well your duty, and Cethe I trust has born up with Christian patience.
I would gladly have been with you if it had been possible. I am thankful to hear that Cethe is better and hope he will take good care of himself and get quite well. We did not feel so much disappointed at your not coming; we hardly looked for you, although your father would not give it up until the last train had come in. But do not worry to come home; tell Cethe I think he has the _home sickness_ to contend with now, but he must be patient as he promised.
My visit to New York was not much; I was so tired when I got there, I could not do anything. Sunday I went to church and Sunday School. Monday it rained, so I did not go out, and Tuesday I came home; so you see I don't know much about anything, only the beautiful ride up the bay from Long Branch, which was amid the finest scenery I ever saw. Theoph's people seem to think a great deal of him; but he is not very well.
Lizzie got down home all right and her brother is coming back with her.
We are all well, but the weather is so hot we can hardly live; the factory stopped yesterday for the heat. We are going to harvest next week; we have the nicest corn.
We are having some great times about Bro. Faucett's money; we have to pay up every week, but _I_ think he is nice, and he gives us good preaching.
I know you will not mind bad writing this hot weather.
MOTHER.
In giving these two letters, I have desired to show my mother's appreciation of the sacraments of the church, and of the gospel, and her ability to give good counsel and comfort to her distressed children. _She had not had the sacrament since August!_ She felt the loss, and had through much affliction gone to church that she might once more meet the assembly of the saints, at the table of the Lord, and then had been disappointed! She put her own feelings on paper, when, as against the clamor and complaints against the minister, she wrote "_he gives us good preaching_." Little did she then know that that minister, who gave the people, as she said, "good preaching,"
should one day be called upon to pronounce the last sad tribute to her worth over her open coffin. I am glad that I can put on record the testimony of Rebecca Steward, a woman learned in the Bible, and experienced in the things of God, in favor of the preaching of any minister. She calmly wrote that Brother Faucett gave the people good preaching.
How she could comfort the distressed, the letters themselves say. A few more paragraphs will show how she lived in the atmosphere of Heaven, and how she looked upon Heaven as her near home.
The reader will pardon this anticipation and transposition of years.
CHAPTER IV.
CHILDREN ALL MARRIED.
In the spring of 1874 my mother had so far recovered, as to be able to walk about a little; and, in company with her oldest sister, Tamson Cuff, since gone to rest, she made a visit of a few weeks to Newbern, North Carolina. Soon after her arrival she wrote the following letter:
_Newbern, N. C., April 17th, 1874._
Dear husband, and all the loved ones at home.
WILL wrote for me last night, so you will know that we got here all safe; but Tamson is not feeling very well this morning. I am quite as well as usual. I found Will and his folks as well and happy as can be; Will is fatter than I ever saw him. I did not get to see Theoph, I can't tell why; if you hear from him let me know; and if you do not, after a week or two, write to Mr. Hamilton, and see where he is. It was cold and dreary enough when we came from home, but we have come right into midsummer here; the birds are singing, and flowers blooming, and the swamps and woods along the road are as green as in the first of June. In the yards here, there are fig trees, and peach and plum trees, as green with leaves as in July with us.
They are having peas, and onions, and lettuce, to eat. I had a nice bunch of flowers given to me last night, and I want to send you some before they wilt. * * * * We had a nice ride around the city (in Washington,) saw the Capitol, Patent Office, and Post Office, and I cannot tell you what else, until I get home. We are invited to stop a week in Washington on our return; but I reckon I shall want to come right home when I start.
As ever, wife and mother,
R. S.
She came home from this visit much improved, and enjoyed quite good health until the fall of '75. During the winter of '74 she witnessed the marriage of her two remaining children, and looked out upon life a second time almost alone. The couple that had married in the beginning of December '38, saw the last of their children married, at the close of December '74. Thirty-six years had been employed in rearing and training a family ere the last one is given to manhood, and the father and mother turn a moment to repose. Their work is done; time shall say if it has been well done. Time did I say? Nay, Eternity! Their work done, they go back in that quiet home alone, but cannot recall the hopes and joys of youth. When married thirty-six years ago, they were without the Pearl of Great Price; now they sit in that homestead, after exercising nearly forty years of command in the sublime domain of domestic government, and look up to their father's God. Now that father and mother bow, and unitedly pray, "God bless our offspring in different parts of the world; teach them, educate them, give them knowledge, wisdom and understanding; make them useful in doing much good, and instruments in Thy hand in winning many souls to Thy Kingdom." This is no fancy sketch, dear reader, but an actual quotation from the prayer that went up from that altar.
When somewhat discouraged with untoward circumstances, during this period of her life, I received two letters from her which I have ever prized. In one she said: "I never close my eyes at night, without looking over you all, and committing you all to God's care; and I _do_ pray God to keep you all; so that when we are all done with the cares of this life, we shall be a family united around the throne--children, grandchildren, and all; and we will make the heavens ring with one eternal song of praise."
"Follow after the meek and lowly Jesus; and if you can't make anything of the old people, try the children; sow the seeds of Divine Truth among _them_ as much as you can; leave no measure untried, no place neglected, as far as in you lies. Be faithful; be earnest; for remember He that goeth forth with tares bearing precious seed shall return again bringing his sheaves with him. And Oh! think of the glory, the rejoicing--when all the ransomed of the Lord shall come flocking to him--to meet those you have been instrumental in bringing to Christ."
In the other she said: "Continue to look up, for Christ is the end of your hopes and He will never forsake you. He has work enough for you to do. Seek to find out His will and obediently follow it. Work in His vineyard wherever you find a place; and, if you can find nothing else, then quietly, like your mother, patiently wait and speak a word for Him whenever you can. Scatter seed wherever you go, and may the Lord bless you, and keep you and all yours, is the best wish of the heart of your mother."
The summer of '75 was to the inhabitants of South Jersey quite prosperous, so far as the productions of the field were concerned, and this made abundant work for mother now left alone. It being difficult to obtain help, the chief burden of managing the affairs of the farm-house fell upon her, and they were not light. She says, July 6, 1875, in a letter addressed to Mrs. Felts: "We are all pretty well and almost done harvesting; the weather is very warm and I have had it pretty hard, but it is over now, and I have stood it right well."
On the 5th of the same month she wrote a long letter to Mrs. Felts inviting her home. During the month of August, 1875 she presided over a family reunion, at which were gathered all the members of the household consisting of over forty persons. A long table was spread under the trees just as the sun was sinking in the west, and after a short prayer by Rev. R. Faucett this numerous family gathered around it in the utmost sociality. It was their last.
The remaining days of summer and early autumn passed away without any material change in her health; but as the cool weather approached, and the profuse vegetable matter began to die away, she was taken with a slight billious intermittent fever. Exposing herself too early on her recovery from this, she was thrown into typhoid fever and was by it completely prostrated. During the winter as she was very low, I was informed of her state, and came to see her, bringing her some nourishment, which I induced her to take, and there was soon a gradual change for the better. During her former illness her hair had all turned grey, and fallen out; during the period of health from the spring of '74 to the autumn of '75 it had grown in again black, and now this terrible typhoid fever leaves her reduced to little more than a skeleton, and her hair all grey and falling out again.
On the 13th of February 1876, having recovered sufficiently, she wrote to her daughter as follows, writing with her own hand: "Dear Alice.
The cloud indeed passed away, and I am much better; I am sorry I troubled you, and made you sad (alluding to a previous letter in which she expressed no hope of recovery), but I thought it best then.
I guess I will get well now, if nothing else happens. Father will not let me go out of the room yet; he is very well; he went to a donation party to Mr. Faucett's last night. You need not be uneasy about me, I am well cared for and do not wish you to come to me. I think it would be out of your duty and you know I always say 'duty before pleasure;'
and besides, 'Aunt Lydia' has been with me and will come again if I need her. * * * * The people like Mr. Faucett better than they did. I cannot advise you about coming East. * * * You must both make it a subject of prayer, but don't come for my sake; _I am not worth a sacrifice_; and besides I have sacrificed you all to the Lord. (See February 6th 1876.) I have laid all of you, with all that I have, on the altar; all my dearest affections, and you among the dearest; so you see I can't take you back." And in this letter she adds "here is the last bit of my hair."
The same date she wrote to her son-in-law, Rev. C. C. Felts as follows:
Dear Cethe:--I like to forgot, I had something to say to _you_.
I must answer your _grumbling_ as best I can, for I don't like _grumblers_ any way. (Mr. Felts had written, that his room was so small that he could not walk across without moving things out of the way to make a passage, etc., and otherwise alluding to his poverty. Of course the correspondence was rather jocosely conducted.) She continued:
1st. You forget how much larger your room is than the cross was; and how many things the Saviour had to move out of the way; you forget also how much larger those mansions in glory will appear.
2d. You forget, too, that your bread shall be given and water sure; and having food and raiment, therewith to be content.
3d. You forget, too, that he that goeth forth weeping, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless return again, bringing his sheaves with him. Sow thy seed in the morning, in the evening withhold not thy hand, for thou knowest not which shall prosper, this or that. The other side looks so bright, I have no comments.
MOTHER.
The summer of '76 passed slowly away, she regaining health slowly. Her hair, which all came out with the typhoid fever, grew in rapidly, and again black. In August of that year she wrote as follows: "We are all well as usual. Theoph is here, and Lizzie is coming to day, and Bishop Payne Saturday. We had the finest pic-nic yesterday we have had for a long time. * * * I shall be to see you week after next, if I don't go home with Theoph; and if I do, I will be there the week after. I am going to Campmeeting now."
She went home with "Theoph," passing a week in Brooklyn and going from there to Philadelphia. Her deep interest in the welfare of her children, and her complete resignation to the will of God are so apparent in these letters, as scarcely to need a hint. She has laid all on the altar and dare not take it off. She counts not herself "_worth a sacrifice_." What further self-denial can be asked? What further consecration possible?
From her visit to Brooklyn she went to Philadelphia, stopping a week at the latter place with her daughter, Mrs. Felts, and remarked while there, that she was taking a rest after her severe summer's labor, and was also visiting her children for the last time, unless called to them by sickness. While in Philadelphia she visited the great Centennial Exposition, and called on many of her friends in the city.
On the Sabbath, it was her intention to visit "Old Bethel" _once more_, but the day being stormy, she was disappointed. Her two weeks vacation, she said, saved her from an attack of sickness, and she passed the following winter in quite good health. She wrote me towards spring, saying she was rapidly gaining in flesh and had not been sick a day since her visit.
During the month of January her oldest sister was taken very sick, requiring much of her attention; simultaneously word came that her daughter, Mrs. Felts, was also seriously ill. She divided her time between these two afflicted ones, again visiting the city. As she left home to go to the city, the weather was so bad, she had doubts about reaching it; but she said, "My duty is to start." Staying two weeks with her daughter, she availed herself of only one pleasure, and that was to hear Dr. Lord's classic lecture on Gothic Architecture. This was to her a great treat; and her perception was at that time so clear, and her memory so retentive, that after coming home she repeated almost the entire substance of the lecture. During the month of March my brother Stephen and his wife moved into the homestead, to take charge of the farm. My mother felt sad as she brought her domestic arrangements within closer quarters, and remarked that it seemed to her "like having gone to the top of the hill and now going down again." Although she was delighted with her daughter-in-law and heartily acquiesced in the arrangement, in fact it was in accord with her own wish, yet she expressed a feeling of sadness as she relinquished her hold upon active and responsible life. What with the labor of caring for the sick daughter, her sick mother, and her sick sister, during the winter, when spring came she was very much worn down. The last letter she wrote is dated May 7th, 1877, and is addressed to her oldest son. It reads:
Dear Will:--Yours kindly received. We were glad to be remembered, and glad to know you had got so well; we are all as usual except colds. I have not seen your family since you were here. Steve is almost done planting corn; but the weather is so cold, he gets along slow with his work. "Aunt Tamson" is very low;--not expected to live from day to day. Tell Alice, we can't--any one of us--come to the opening of the Exhibition; but she can come home _any day she gets ready_.
We are getting along very peacably and nice with our two families together. Our new preacher was with us yesterday and kindly received. You will wonder why I have not written better; but I am in a hurry for "Grandmother" and "Aunt Prude" are both sick, and I am going there as soon as I can; "Aunt Tamson's"
family are all with her; you see we have trouble all around us; it was the news of "Ike's" death that threw her back. Father is working right on for four weeks, which is wonderful.
With much love, from your
MOTHER.