Part 14 (2/2)

What he saw and heard in the meeting was in such harmony with all that G.o.d had taught him and with what he had read in the Bible that he said, ”Of a truth I have found G.o.d's church, and his people shall henceforth be my people.”

He was still of the same humble, teachable spirit, and when he returned to his home, he carried many rich morsels of truth to his loving and faithful wife.

”One G.o.d and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all” (Eph. 4: 6). ”He will guide you into all truth” (John 16: 13).

CHAPTER XXII

VISITS THE POORHOUSE

I am not old--though time has set His signet on my brow, And some faint furrows there have met, Which care may deepen now-- For in my heart a fountain flows, And round it pleasant thoughts repose, And sympathies and feelings high Spring like the stars on evening sky.

--Benjamin.

It was evening in the late summer, and Edwin was sitting upon the porch. He had been reading, but the paper had fallen carelessly by his side. In the western sky the beautiful tints of gold were rapidly changing to the deeper shades of lavender and crimson, and as he gazed upward among the drifting clouds he seemed lost to his earthly surroundings. So enraptured and carried away with his meditation had he become that he did not notice the approach of his faithful wife as she came to take her place beside him.

”Edwin, your thoughts tonight seem to be very far away indeed,” she said.

”I hope that you are thinking of things that are pleasant”

With a smile and a word of welcome, Edwin awoke from his reverie and said:

”Yes, Wife, my thoughts were pleasant. In imagination I was living over again some of my early experiences.”

”If that is the case, my dear, I greatly fear that a part of your thoughts were not as cheerful as they might have been,” his wife said as her chair was drawn closer. Taking the hand that was scarred and disfigured in several places by abuse in his childhood, she continued: ”I fear that many things concerning your childhood would be very hard indeed if you were forced to live them over again even in thought.”

”Yes, Wife, that is true. There were many hard and bitter things, which are indeed painful to recall, especially those pertaining to my mother. To know that she has left this life without any hope for the future world, feeling that such was unnecessary, is hard, but it was not of her nor of her att.i.tude toward me that I was thinking altogether. I was meditating upon my life as a whole. You see, more than fifty summers and winters have pa.s.sed since I left the poorhouse in my boyhood days, and I have pa.s.sed well over the best part of my life. I am now on the downward slope of life's mountain of years, and it will not be long until I shall be entering the valley of the shadow of death.”

The soft fingers of the gentle wife closed more tightly over the hand they held, as she said:

”Yes, dear, neither of us is young any more, for the silvery threads are already in our hair; but whether our years on earth are few or many, I believe that we both are ready to enter into the presence of our Lord at any moment that he should call for us.”

”I have no fears on those lines, Wife,” Edwin said, while his eyes were still upon the beautiful horizon; ”for I have the sweet a.s.surance within my soul that I am a child of G.o.d and that I am on the road that leads to eternal bliss and glory for all who are faithful unto the end. But this evening as I sat here gazing upon the beautiful handiwork of G.o.d, I wondered what could be awaiting us in that brighter and better world beyond the grave.”

”That is not for us to know now, Edwin, but some day the curtain will be drawn aside, and I am sure that the scene will be all the brighter for our having had to await G.o.d's time to reveal to us the mysteries that he has for a time thought best to veil.”

The silence that followed seemed too sacred to be broken, and the gathering darkness crept slowly about them. When the last shade of crimson had left the sky, Edwin said:

”I have been thinking of the many good things that have come to me in this life, and the manner in which they have come. It seems that G.o.d's hand has been over me ever since I can remember, and as I look back now I can see that G.o.d has always been my guide ever since I chose to do the right because it was right to do it, and that even in my extreme ignorance, when I knew nothing of G.o.d's existence, he guided my steps and enabled me to live a life that was upright and consistent in the eyes of the world. Then, when I had no earthly friend who was able to unfold the mysteries of the future world to my entire satisfaction, he became my teacher and taught me how to be born into his heavenly family. Surely it was only through his divine protection that I have been brought through all my perplexities to the present time. Then as I was thinking about my childhood home at the poorhouse, a great desire to visit the place again crept into my heart. It seems to me that it would be a comfort to stand once more upon the same ground and to see the scenes that I beheld at the time when I was a helpless waif.”

”Fifty years, Edwin, have probably made many changes, and nothing would seem the same to you now. It could not be as it was when you were a child.”

”That may all be true,” Edwin replied, ”and yet the more I think about it, the greater becomes my desire to go and visit the place again. If you could give your consent, I should be glad to go at once.”

”That you certainly have,” his wife said earnestly, adding, ”I will gladly do all in my power. Edwin, to help you to prepare for the journey.”

Three days later Edwin kissed his wife good-by and with his handbag in his hand started for the railway station. After boarding the train he had a long and tiresome journey, but at last it was at an end. Alighting from the train, he stood for a moment upon the platform, trying to think which way to go. Noticing a man standing near, Edwin inquired the way to the poorhouse, and finding that the distance was not too great to walk, he was soon wending his way in that direction.

In that section of the country the land was quite level, and long before Edwin reached the place, he could see the large brick building that during his stay there was the quarters of the vicious and insane. He wondered if it was still used for the same purpose and if the same sights and sounds could be seen and heard. In a little while he was in front of the place that was his home half a century before.

Leaving the highway, he pa.s.sed through the open gateway, and a picture of his uncle in the buggy with the little forlorn poorhouse waif sitting beside him arose in his mind. Looking about, he wondered if either Mr.

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