We consoled ourselves, as usual, with the knowledge that we had acted
honestly and conscientiously towards all, and that the miseries of
this short life are "not worthy to be compared with the glory which
shall be revealed in us in the near future of the life eternal."
The blue arch above us, ever changing like the sea, has always
possessed a peculiar fascination for me, and I never let slip a
convenient opportunity to feast my eyes upon it. I was pursuing this
favorite occupation one day this year, when an unusually beautiful
cloud attracted my attention, and as I watched its rapidly changing
forms, there was slowly evolved from it the kindly loving face of my
mother. It was no fancy, no distorted figment of a dream. The dear
face smiled upon me with angelic sweetness, glanced upward, and was
gone; then I knew that I had another guardian angel in heaven.
In a short time, news came from R---- that she who had gladly devoted
her life to self-sacrifice for her children, had been relieved from
the always weak and suffering body.
Dear, good mother! Her highest and only ambition was to do good; not
a selfish thought ever even flitted across her horizon. Frank as the
day, constant as the sun, pure as the dew; like our Lord himself, she
sacrificed herself for the good of others. Her sons, Richard and Mark,
welcomed her at the gates ajar, and she was at rest.
What is death but a journey home?
A perfect rest when the work is done,
A gentle sleep for earth-weary eyes,
And the soul ascends to the azure skies.
Pages:
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160