Chapter XV

|0 his cousin M, Frank wrote on May

nth from College:” I am glad thy father set me right on that question, when I was with you, for my theory was just a sort of outgrowth of a rather puerile brain. However, the outgrowth cleared the way for the good plant, which will be much more firmly rooted for having its ground stirred up a little. I knew thy secret delight at seeing me ‘squenched,’ and really enjoyed it with thee. It is fun to have ideas though, even if they are erroneous; I am sick of getting everything second-hand.

“I would like to Met off’ to thee about what I ought to be doing at present, instead of idly dreaming about other more interesting things I might be doing. The first thing I want to do is to carry out that maxim, ‘Know thyself,’ and find out about my own mind and its workings. Well, it is fine here at college, where every one is studying, and where the general influence is brain-stimulating. But I long for a truly sympathizing, congenial friend like we are to each other. How grand it is that we shall be together next summer at ’ the Cedars,’ and can read together and talk.

“And now don’t let us spend all our time dream-

188^ ing of doing something grand, and allow the present to go; but let us earnestly regard the present, each moment as we have it, as a priceless treasure to be used, and not to be dreamed away. I do not mean to say a little dreaming now and then will hurt us for actual work; but I like what Longfellow says in his Psalm of Life:

*Act, act in the living present.’

Not act in some grand way in the future, but act now. I have no objection to having an ideal in moderation, but I cannot afford to let it carry me away from the duties of the Miving present.’

“Oh, I heard such a splendid speech, in our Hall, the other night; it was on ‘Failure,’ and the fellow said that a man who had honestly and truly tried some great object and had failed, was as worthy of praise as the one who succeeded; that but for those who had failed, none would evef succeed and that many men become mere nothings in the world, because they do not dare to fail. Do let us dare to fail, if it is inevitable, and then perhaps some one else, out of our wrecked hopes, may build up a firm edifice. What difference who builds the great house of our objects, so that it is only built? And if we can be but the corner-stone, hidden away down in the foundation, we will know the building rests on us, and that, unless we had been so buried, the building could not have been built.

‘’I never had thought of thy illustration of the knight and his armor. We have always so admired those stories of our dear old heroes, Launcelot, a-nd

Galahad, and Tristram, and the rest; and it is splendid to be able to think of them in connection with ourselves and our poor lives, which seem so unromantic. But just here comes a question which is to me one of extreme importance. The knights of all our dear old romances fought for some lady, and laid their trophies at her feet. Now who are we three knights to fight for, and at whose feet do we propose to lay our trophies? I don’t want to lecture, and especially not to preach; but do we expect to give the glory of our lives to ourselves, or to God? He asks for it, and are we to keep it for ourselves? Oh! let us look at this fairly and squarely, and have no flinching to commence with. I am far more in earnest than ever before; and I do think this is the question to start with. We are not to lay our honors at God’s feet in a general way, and really keep them ourselves; but personally and particularly He must have them all. Please, don’t call this a ‘preach,’ for I am just putting down what is going on in my own mind on this subject.

‘* I do hope our lives, as thee says, may lie side by side, in the pursuit of our ideal. Our paths may be very different; but that we may each help and encourage the other, in our upward way, I do sincerely hope.

‘’Thee knows it is said, a man can make himself whatever he pleases; and thee also knows, probably, that I am naturally very careful of what people say. Now, without running to the other extreme, I want to go ahead and do what I ought to do, as if there was no ‘Mrs. Grundy.’ Maybe thee will help me a ytat. 17.] THE RECORD OF A HAP.’Y LIFE. I9I

little, as it will be tough work fighting one’s nature.

**But I must stop, and sign myself thy fellowclimber up the Ideal mountain; and though the way is rough, and there are many briers, and it perplexes us sometimes to know our path, still there is the top always above us, and here and there we see resting-places, and dreamlands, and we can help each other a little. So let us hope.

“Thy prosaic cousin, Frank.”

On the 19th he wrote to me, still continuing the question as to the proper sort of reading for a young Christian:

“.... am not quite settled on the reading point yet. Thee says not to read anything for amusement, which will draw my mind away from divine things; of course, I agree to that. But, when we read for instruction, ought we not to choose out those books which are written in the best style on the subjects we are studying? For instance, ought I to read Hume, when I am reading English History; or ought I to reject him, because he was an infidel? Ought I to refuse to read Gibbon’s History of Rome for the same reason? Or, carry it a little further, ought I to read Livy or Homer, for they were Pagans?

‘’ I am just beginning to realize how very crude my mind is; and, in fact, to think that I have never really thought before. I suspect I have been pretty full of emptiness for the last sixteen years or so, and am just waking up to the fact. It is very hard work to learn really to think. But I am trying to put my self through on metaphysics, and to follow out a very few ideas of my own.

“I am going to put another question to thee that puzzles me. How far is ambition right? I mean, am I to hold before myself a desire to do something great and good; or, should I rather expect to be just a commonplace humdrum sort of man, doing good of course as much as I can, but never making much effort or stir? I could not bear the thought of settling down into nothingness. Now, is it wrong to seek for influence and a name, using, of course, perfectly right means? I hope I have made myself clear, for I want the question answered, please.

“I do not know of anything I have not given up. I acknowledge I would feel a little disappointed, if I should be called to go as a missionary to the South Sea Islands, for instance; but still I would go. I could not, however, help the feeling of disappointment. But despite my consecration and trust, which are earnest, so far as I know, I do not feel that exquisite joy some speak of, except at very rare intervals, when thee, or father, or some one, stirs me up.”

I replied to this letter as follows:

“That reading-question is a difficult one, I confess. I think I would not object to read a History written by an infidel, if it was a standard work; but I would not read any book by the same author, written on the subject of religion. Hume’s History would not hurt; but his book on Miracles might be of untold injury to the soul. I think the only really safe and wise plan is to pray about thy reading, and to trust the Lord Himself to teach thee. Thee need not form zwy plan, but just take each book as it presents, to the Lord, and ask Him about it, and if thy heart feels free to read it, then do so; I think this will solve the difficulty.

*’As to thy other question, I would answer, emphatically, that it is right for a Christian to try and be the very best he can. Paul says to Timothy, * Study to show thyself approved, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed.* Our Master wants to have polished instruments for His service; and it is thy duty to use thy present training-time to the very best advantage. No, we must not settle down into anything humdrum or commonplace. Be in everything the best thee can. Get all the influence thee can, and all the power thee can, and consecrate it to the Lord. Don’t let Satan have all the benefit of ambition in his kingdom; but let thy soul be fired with a holy ambition to excel in everything for the Lord’s sake, — just as father prayed that his management of the factories at M. might be successful, in order that Christ might be glorified. The longing to be something and to do something is divinely implanted in every heart, and it would be unnatural to try and quench it; all we must do is, to let this longing reach out after doing and being something for the Lord; and this is glorious ambition! To be co-workers with God, how grand! What a destiny to be ours I To be made a partner of Rothschild would be something; but to be made a partner of God, how immeasurably more! Paul says, Covet earnestly the best gifts,’ so it is our duty to do it. 17 N “As for joy, dear Frank, do not be troubled at not having it continually. Our feelings vary with the variations in our physical condition, or our surroundings; but our faith may remain unchanged through everything, and it is this we must watch over. Our joy is very sweet to us, but our faith is more precious to the Lord.’

r

To his father, Frank wrote, on the 2 2d of May:

“.... This Princeton atmosphere is waking me up, intellectually, a good deal. I am beginning to realize, as I have not fully done before, that my mind needs a great deal of cultivation in every respect. I am storing up all the good practica, sayings I hear; and am acting on them whenever I can. One thing I am trying very hard to persist in, and that is to be doing something all the time; never to idle, or trifle away time, as thee advised me. So don’t think thy admonitions are altogether thrown away, even if I do not act immediately on them.

“Thee cannot realize for me the necessity of keeping myself pure, half as much as I realize it for myself — pure both in body and mind. It is, in fact, my most earnest prayer that I may be made entirely so.

“I want to know, father, if it is possible for us to give ourselves in an entire abandonment to Christ, unless we are brought to it by some trial? I don’t think a person ought to wait for that trial; but, somehow, 1 seem to think that no one can know the//^// preciousness of ‘abiding in Christ,’ until they have some sorrow; and I am afraid I will not until then.”

Ut. 17-] THE RECORD OF A HAPPY LIFE. 1 95

This was our boy’s last letter to his home; and the question with which it closed was destined to be gloriously answered in the brightness of the Lord’s presence, where he was so soon to enter upon the fulness of joy for evermore, with no need of sorrow or of discipline ever again. It was his blessed portion to yield the free-hearted consecration of a life that had never known any deep trial; and to be in his own sweet experience a happy proof that sorrow is not a necessary preparation for abiding in Christ, but only the alternative, where the tender wooings of grace have not proved effectual.

Frank’s eyes failing him, as they usually did in the spring, he came home the last day of May, and was unable to complete the collegiate year. And before another College year rolled round, he had done with colleges forever, and had entered upon the life where all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge are opened to his eager spirit, and where the highest aspirations of his soul, after a full and perfect development, have been lost in amazed surprise at the infinity made his own.

After his return home, Frank had a very happy time, visiting his friends, and enjoying the quiei country pleasures at ‘the Cedars,” where we had gone about the first of June.

Among other visits, he spent several days with some of the old Hestonville party at West Chester and Wilmington, and was delighted at this opportunity of renewing and strengthening the sweet ties of Christian friendship that had been formed two years before. Two of the party were engaged to be married, and this, of course, introduced an element of great interest to Frank, who laughed a good deal in his quiet, happy way, as he told me on his return of the fun he had in attempting to tease the youthful pair.

As always upon their reunion, so now, this precious band of young Christians found one of their sweetest sources of enjoyment, when together, to consist in their religious fellowship, and in the little occasional prayer-meetings they managed always to have. Frank himself did not say much about this to me; but one young lady of the party, writing to me since, says:

‘’Very much of our intercourse during those days at West Chester and Wilmington was religious, — and was very precious. The expression of Frank’s face, as he testified during that time to the Lord’s goodness to him, and especially the tones of his voice as they rose in earnest pleading to the throne of Grace, have come back to me over and over with wonderful power and reality.

“The last prayer-meeting we ever had together was at Westchester on First-day night. There were some young people there of whose Christian standing we did not feel sure, and when Frank was talking of having the meeting, he said: ‘Now is the time to show our colors, and we must not. be afraid to do it.’

“That meeting I shall never forget. Frank prayed; and although I cannot recall the words of his prayer, I remember realizing that he had grown very much since I had heard him pray before. He was very anxious for the conversion of one of his friends, and regretted very much that we had not had a little prayer-meeting together while this one had been with us. But at last, he said, we must leave it all with the Lord, since He had not seemed to make a way for the meeting, and must believe that He would make all things work for the best.

“When we left W., we rode in the cars together for two or three hours, and had a delightful talk on religious subjects. We spoke of the right sort of conversation for Christians, of the medium between austerity and too great freedom. He told me also of a conversation he had had with his father, which had been a great comfort and help to him, in which his father had said, that a young Christian need not be discouraged because he had not the depth of peace and rest he saw in those more advanced j for that these grew with our growth, and were always greater in those whose experience in this Higher Life had been of longer duration.”

The caly letter Frank wrote after this was one sent from “the Cedars,” on the 19th of June, to his cousin Minnie, whom he was eagerly expecting to join him there:

Dear Minnie:

“Could n’t. before. Dreadful sorry. Sore eyes. Came home; been visiting ever since

*’Feel prepared for our work this summer, which

is to be our armor-making time? We can blow each

other’s fires, only I am afraid mine has the least fuel,

and will burn out the quickest. The Philadelphia Library will not be shut up, so we can have that all summer. Does thee know yet what books we want?

*’ Do hurry on here, so that we can talk. I think abstract subjects afford an endless field of fun to us. We have hardly ever thought about them befc re, and they have the charm of being fresh. It is a perfect joy to me to talk about them, so do hurry on to ’ the Cedars.’

“Do let us put a little practical into our dreams. First, if thee and I are to accomplish anything, how can we do it best, — by writing, by public speaking, or by our individual influence over individuals? Second, where can we do it best? And, third, what, when done, will amount to most; that is, will do others most good? We must talk this over this summer, and then set to work definitely to prepare ourselves; just as Herodotus worked at his style that he might write a history, or as Demosthenes overcame his stammering that he might become an orator. Hard work and steady application to one purpose will accomplish wonders; and as I need wonders, I must have the hard work and application. I am willing to put years of hard work on my ‘ideal,’ and then fail, if necessary; though I most certainly shall not fail, if hard work can help it.

“.... We do need a great deal of armor, and so, it seems to me, we should direct our especial and earnest attention to finding out what weapons we really must have, in order that we may get only such as will be most useful; not attempting any which there is but little probability of our ever using. We must read as much as our eyes and health will per mit; exercise as much of the remaining time as we can j find out things by talking whenever and wherever we get a chance; and, while we are exercising, and all the rest of the time, think! It is an intensely interesting occupation to me, to find out the best way to think. No one can tell another; each one must find it out for himself. Another thing, we must study human nature.

“Much obliged for what thee said about the reality of my consecration. I do want it to be real.”

On the ist of July the large party of cousins gathered at ‘’the Cedars,” all bright with health and spirits, little thinking that, before two short months would pass, the oldest of that happy group would be taken from their midst, to join the company of the redeemed in Heaven.

On the 4th of July, Frank joined us at Sea Cliff Grove, on Long Island, where we had gone a few days previously, to attend the National Camp Meeting for the promotion of Holiness, or ‘’the Higher Christian Life.” For ten days we camped out there in tents, attending meetings having this definite subject in view all day long. Our dear boy enjoyed the services of these ten days exceedingly, and felt it to have been a season of great blessing to his soul. A young lady, with whom he was much associated during these meetings, thus writes concerning him:

“During these pleasant ten days I spent with Frank, I had many conversations with him on religious subjects, in*which he helped me to come out decidedly on the Lord’s side; especially he helped me to understand the subject of sanctification by faith; and, although he never said much about himself, still I knew from his conversation that he enjoyed this blessing. I found a friend in him such as I have never found in any ether young man.

“In one of our * young people’s meetings,’ he spoke of the trials and temptations of College life, and of his own weakness; but told us of his confidence in God’s power to deliver him and strengthen him. He also spoke in one of the more public meetings, confessing his entire consecration to the Lord, and his sweet sense of being fully accepted by Him.

Another lady, older than himself, who was much with him while there, says:

‘’I shall not soon forget some of the sweet talks I had with Frank at Sea Cliff about the Higher Life. In one of these he said, * I think the best way is to live Christ, and then, when we speak, we will be believed;’ and added, that he did pray that his life in College might be such as would make his fellow-students believe holiness to be attainable. He said, on another occasion, that he thought it did not do much good to argue about this doctrine, but to let people understand plainly your own faith in regard to it, as if you were not ashamed of it, and then hold on to it firmly, without getting angry at anything they might say or do; he said he thought ’ this had more influence than anything else.*

“In the last conversation we had together, he said, after speaking of hio responsibilities because of so

JEtt. 17.] THE RECORD OF A HAPPY LIFE. 201

much teaching; ‘But I do not think much about the future. I do not know why it is, but somehow I cannot make any plans for the coming College year; I do not look that far into the future. I never before felt just as I do now; but I know the Lord will lead me, and I just leave it with Him. I want to work for Christ; but I only want to do it in whatever way He may see best.’

*’ In reply I quoted those lines:

“‘It may not be my way; it may not be thy way; But yet, in His own way, the Lord will provide.’

Adding, ‘and we need not arrange nor choose.* I seem now to see his smile and the bright light in his eye, as he answered, ‘Yes, the Lord’s way is best for us all.’

‘* Ah! little did we know that even then the path of glory was the Lord’s way for him; and that a few more days would reveal to his enraptured gaze the gates of the celestial city!

“How often have his words, with their sweet emphasis, recurred to me since, when tempted to question or complain * The Lord’s way is best;’ and they have many times strengthened faith and love in my soul.”

Our dear boy returned from Sea Cliff to ‘’the Cedars” on the 15th of July, and spent a happy week with his cousins there, in all sorts of out-door amusements, and in the “armor-making” work they had been so long planning.

On the 2 2d of July, 1872, the four older cousins, Frank, M., B., and W., started on a long antici’ pated ‘’expedition,” to explore the upper stream of the Brandyvvine. The company consisted of half a dozen of the Hestonville party, and a few more of their young friends, and it was led by the father of two of the young ladies. They met at his summer home near West Chester, Pa.; and taking several carriages, and a wagon with provisions for pic-nicking, they drove leisurely through the beautiful scenery of Chester, Lancaster, and Berks counties, lodging at night at the village inns, and stopping by day to explore, and climb, and row, as their fancy dictated. From the wooded heights of Ephrata they looked over a broad expanse comprising many of the eastern counties of Pennsylvania; and returning by way of Coatesville, had an unsurpassed view of the “Great Valley,” from Cain meeting-house, after a charming ramble along the West Branch of the Brandywine. Each member of the party had an office. Frank was “Botanist;” and the very names, “Historian,” ‘’Astronomer,” “Artist,” “Poet,” “Hostler,” “Caterer,” and “Picker-up,” will long recall to all of them vivid scenes of adventure, some full of fun, others of serious danger.

The friend from whose house they started writes as follows, concerning this short episode in our boy’s life:

“While I had known Frank from a little child, my acquaintance with him had been but slight before our living together during these pleasant days. I cannot well put into words the sense that grew upon me of the rQpiarkable combination of manliness and iEtat. 17.] THE RECORD OF A HAPPY LIFE. 2O3

meekness in his character. There was a magnetism about him that brought one very close to him. Before the beginning of each day’s fun and work, and after it was over, we drew near together to the same Mercy -seat, and at such times his soul seemed to take hold of the Invisible with an earnestness rare in one so young. The Lord Jesus was with him an ever present Friend and Helper; so that, whether in the height of our enjoyment, or in the more serious moments when we talked together of the ways of God, he was alike a faithful witness for Him whom he loved. What I now recall most vividly, as I look back to this little journey, is the modesty and ingenuousness he exhibited in all our undertakings, the unselfishness he constantly showed when it was not easy to prefer others to himself, and the fact, very early apparent, that he was to be absolutely trusted in any duty assigned him.

“He was not very well on two or three occasions, and more than once he expressed what now seems a strange presentiment of his early death. One of the party relates that, as they stood together in a little country graveyard, Frank said to her, ‘I wonder which of us will be taken first? I think I shall die young! ‘And, after the return of the party to West Chester, the evening before they separated, as they sat in the moonlight on the piazza, the conversation turned again, as it often had, upon death and the wonders to be revealed to us hereafter. Frank did not take an active part in this, but was silent and thoughtful. But at another time when we were together, as if in unconscious recognition of the change so soon to come to him, he called attention to the closing passages in Tennyson’s Morte D’ Arthur, and repeated aloud the impressive lines beginning:

* Ah, my Lord Arthur! whither shall I go? ’

• ••»••••

And slowly answered Arthur from the barge:

* The old order changeth, yielding place to new

And God fulfils Himself in many ways,

Lest one poor custom should corrupt the world.

Comfort thyself! What comfort is in me?

/ have lived my life, and that which I have done

May He Himself make pure I But thou

If thou shouldst never see my face again,

Pray for my soul. More things are wrought b)- prayer

Than this world dreams of.

But now, farewell! I am going a long way To the island valley of Avilion; “Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow. Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns, And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea. Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.’

*’ Some of us who heard him can never read these words again without associating them with our last hours with Frank on earth.’’

The night after the return of our four to ‘’the Cedars,” we had our usual First-day evening Bible class in grandpa Whitall’s parlor. The subject of our lesson was the “Present possessions of the believer;” and dear Frank was very much interested. When the text, ‘’ He that believeth hath everlasting life,” was read, a very earnest discussion followed, in which he seemed to be seeking to enter into the meaning of these wonderful words more deeply than ever he had done before, as though his soul might have felt the foreshadowing of the glorious unfolding of this life, which a few short days was to bring him. We talked until pretty late, and the last words dear Frank said, as I kissed him good-night in the hall, were something in reference to this eternal life. Had-I but known that never again would I have an opportunity of talking with my son on these blessed themes, how much there was I would have said and asked! And yet there was no need; for, surely, never had there been a sweeter or fuller intimacy between parents and child, than had always existed between our son and ourselves.

The next day was his last well day on earth, the

last opportunity he and his cousin M ever had

for their “armor-making.” They climbed into a favorite tree, and read to each other out of Dante and Milton; and learned together a little poem, which seems now strangely significant of the parting that was so soon to come:

I go my way, thou goest thine,

Many ways we wend;
Many days and many ways

Ending in one end.
Many a wrong and its curing song,

Many a road and many an inn;
Room to roam, but only one Home

For the whole world to win.”

And Frank’s last words to this darling cousin were

these lines, so prophetic, which he repeated to her that night as they separated on the stairs on their way to bed.

The next day Frank seemed drooping. We attributed it to the fatigue of the expedition at first; but a bad headache coming on, and continuing, we put him to bed, and sent for the doctor. His grandma Wliitall arranged a chamber for him in the quiet of their larger house, just across the lawn from our little cottage; and there, surrounded by all the tender care that love could give, he passed the ten days of his illness, and closed his eyes on earth in the very spot of all others that he and we would have chosen, could we have arranged it for ourselves.

The first day of his sickness the thought passed through my mind that it might be typhoid fever; and as I sat beside his bed with my work, an instinct within me seemed to urge me to ask him for some last words of assurance and peace, although I little thought they would be the last. I said to him, “Frank, this may be typhoid fever. Suppose it is, would thee be afraid to die?” *’0h, no,” he answered, very cheerfully, “not at all.” We sat silent for a few moments after this, while I was pursuing in my own mind the thoughts of the blessedness of being taken home to Heaven, and how greatly it was to be desired by all of us; and then I continued, “It would be rather nice, after all, to die, — wouldn’t it, Frank?” ‘’Why, yes,” was his still cheerful reply,” it would. Only I would like to live a?id work for Jesus. I comforted him with saying that he need not trouble himself about this; that, if the Lord wanted him He would keep him, and if He did not, it would be glorious to enter so early lin