MARTHA FINLEY Ultimate Collection – Timeless Children Classics & Other Novels. Finley Martha
beautiful she looked to his admiring eyes. She held a Bible in her hand, and was so intent upon its perusal that she was not aware of his coming until he had drawn quite near. Ascending the steps, and standing at a respectful distance, hat in hand, he waited till she should notice and address him.
Glancing up from her book, "Ah, Uncle Ben, good evening," she said. "What can I do for you?"
"Missus," he answered, making a low salam, "all de darkies is gadered togedder under a tree 'round de house yondah, and dey 'pint me committee to come an' ax de young missus would she be so kind for to come an' read the Bible to dem, an' talk, an' pray, an' sing like she do for de sick ones down to de quarter? Dey be berry glad, missus, an' more dan obliged."
"Indeed I will, uncle," Elsie said, rising at once and going with him, Bible in hand; "I had been thinking of doing this very thing."
She found a rustic seat placed for her under a giant oak, and garlanded with fragrant flowers. Aunt Phillis, Aunt Chloe, Uncle Joe, and the rest of the house-servants, gathered in a semicircle around it, while beyond, the men, women, and children from the quarter sat or lay upon the grass, enjoying the rest from the toils of the week, the quiet, the balmy air laden with the fragrance of the magnolia and orange, and all the sweet sights and sounds of rural life in that favored region.
Every one rose at the appearance of their young mistress, and there were murmurs of delight and gratitude coming from all sides. "Now bress de Lord, she read the good book for us." "She good an' lubly as de angels." "Missus berry kind, de darkies neber forget."
Elsie acknowledged it all with a smile and a few kindly words, then commanding silence by a slight motion of the hand, addressed them in a clear, melodious voice, which, though not loud, could be distinctly heard by every one of the now almost breathless listeners.
"I shall read to you of Jesus and some of His own words," she said, "but first we will ask Him to help us to understand, to love, and to obey His teachings."
Then folding her hands and lifting her eyes to the clear blue sky above, she led them in a prayer so simple and childlike, so filial and loving in spirit and expression, that the dullest understood it, and felt that she spoke to One who was very near and dear to her.
After that she read with the same distinct utterance the third chapter of John's Gospel, and commented briefly upon it. "You all want to go to heaven?" she said, closing the book.
"Yes, Miss Elsie." "Yes missus, we all does."
"But to be able to go there you must know the way, and now I want to make sure you do know it. Can you tell me what you must do to be saved?"
There were various answers. "Be good," "Mine de rules an' do 'bout right." "Pray to de Lord," etc., etc.
Elsie shook her head gravely. "All that you must do, and more besides. What does Jesus say? 'God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.' We must believe in Jesus—believe all that the Bible tells us about Him, that He was very God and very man, that He came down from heaven, was born a little babe and laid in a manger, that He grew up to be a man, went about doing good, and at last suffered and died the cruel death of the cross; and all to save poor lost sinners.
"But even that is not enough: the devils believe so much; they know it is all true. But beside this, we must believe on Christ Jesus. He offers to be our Saviour. 'Come unto Me ... and I will give you rest.' 'Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out,' And you must come, you must take the eternal life He offers you; you must rest on Him and Him only.
"Suppose you were out on the bayou yonder, and the boat should upset and float beyond your reach, or be swept away from you by the wind and waves, and you couldn't swim; but just as you are sinking, you find a plank floating near; you catch hold of it, you find it strong and large enough to bear your weight, and you throw yourself upon it and cling to it for life. Just so you must cast yourself on Jesus, and cling to Him with all your strength: and He will save you; for He is able and willing 'to save to the uttermost all that come unto God by Him.'
"He will wash away your sins in His own precious blood, and dress you in the beautiful robe of His perfect righteousness; that is, set His goodness to your account, so that you will be saved just as if you had been as good and holy as He was. Then you will love Him and try to do right to please Him; not to buy heaven; you cannot do that, for 'all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags,' and we cannot be saved unless we trust only in Jesus and His righteousness."
Something in the faces before her caused Elsie to turn her head. Her father stood with grave, quiet air, but a few feet from her.
"Papa," she said, in an undertone, and blushing slightly, "I did not know you were here. Will you not speak to them? you can do it so much better than I."
She sat down, and stepping to her side he made a brief and simply worded address on the necessity of repentance and faith in Jesus, "the only Saviour of sinners," His willingness to save all who come to Him, and the great danger of delay in coming. Then with a short prayer and the singing of a hymn, they were dismissed.
With murmured thanks and many a backward look of admiring love at their already almost idolized young mistress, and her father, who had won their thorough respect and affection years ago, they scattered to their homes.
"You must have a shawl and hat, for the air begins to grow cool," said Mr. Dinsmore to his daughter.
"Yes, massa, I'se brought dem," said Chloe, hurrying up almost out of breath, with the required articles in her hand.
"Thank you, mammy, you are always careful of your nursling;" Elsie said, smilingly, as the shawl was wrapped carefully about her shoulders and the hat placed upon her head.
Her father drew her hand within his arm and led her across the lawn.
"There is one spot, very dear to us both, which we have not yet visited," he said, low and feelingly, "and I have rather wondered at your delay in asking me to take you there."
She understood him. "Yes, sir," she said, "I should have done so last evening, but that you looked weary. It has hardly been out of my mind since we came, and I have only waited for a suitable time."
"None could be better than the present," he answered.
On a gently sloping hillside, and beneath the shade of a beautiful magnolia, they found what they sought: a grave, with a headstone on which was carved the inscription:
"Fell asleep in Jesus,
March 15, 18—,
ELSIE, WIFE OF HORACE DINSMORE,
and only remaining child of
WILLIAM AND ELSPETH GRAYSON,
Aged 16 years, and 2 weeks.
'Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord.'"
They read it standing side by side.
"How young," murmured the daughter, tears filling her eyes, "how young to be a wife, a mother, and to die and leave husband and child! Oh, papa, how I used to long for her, and dream of her—my own precious mamma!"
"When, my darling?" he asked in moved tones, drawing her tenderly to him and passing an arm about her waist.
"Before I knew you, papa, and before you began to love me so dearly and be father and mother both, to me, as you have been for so many years," The low, sweet voice was tremulous with emotion, and the soft eyes lifted to his were brimming over with tears of mingled grief and joy, gratitude and love.
"I have tried to be," he said; "but no one could supply her place. What a loving, tender mother she would have been! But let us forget our loss in the bliss of knowing that it is so well with her."
It was a family burying-ground; there were other graves; those of our Elsie's grandparents, and several of their sons and daughters who had died in infancy or early youth; and in the midst uprose a costly monument, placed there by Mr. Grayson after the death of his wife. The spot showed the same care as the rest of the estate, and was lovely with roses and other