A Woman's Life-Work — Labors and Experiences of Laura S. Haviland. Laura S. Haviland
hairs of our head. As my brother took my hand, saying, "If you wish a physician press my hand, or if you wish water treatment move your head on the pillow," I could not move my head in the least, and my only hope was to say no. When asked if I wished a doctor sent for, I prayed that my tongue might utter words of direction for the sake of my fatherless children, and said, "No."
"Do you want cold compresses, or shall we gently shower over a thin cloth on the swollen and inflamed portion of your neck and head?"
"Shower."
"Cold or tepid?"
"Well."
"If you mean well-water, how much?"
"Big pitcher."
"How often?"
"Twenty minutes."
Said my son Harvey, "It shall be done, if I sit by her every minute to-night."
I felt a positive impression that my Heavenly Father had answered my prayer directly, and granted an assurance, in the token of recovery, and I praised the Lord for his "loving kindness, O, how free." With this assurance I fell back in a stupor, except a dreamy consciousness of their showering, which was faithfully done, with the assistance of my brother. At twelve o'clock I awoke, and inquired where all the people were that filled the room a little while before, and was surprised to learn the hour of night. They said, as my breathing became more natural, the neighbors had left and the children retired.
I could speak easily, and the purple appearance of the skin had disappeared. In the morning the pain was entirely gone, but the soreness was still severe. But with frequent changes of compresses during the day, the swelling very much subsided. I wondered why father did not come, as he had not been to see me since sister Phoebe's funeral. My brother informed me that he had a chill during the funeral, and had not been able to leave. As he had a few fits of the ague some weeks previously, I supposed it was a return of that disease. The day following brother Sala came, and in reply to my inquiry after my father, said he was no better, but sent me a request to be very careful of myself, and hoped I would soon recover, and left in seeming haste to see brother Patchin. But I sent for him to come and tell me more about father. He soon came with brother Patchin and brother Dolbeare. He then told me that father had the same disease that had taken my husband and our mother, and he also said that it was father's request that for the sake of my large family of children, who were recently bereft of their father, that I would give up the idea of coming to see him.
But I could not be satisfied without going to see my dear father once more, and yet, the pleading of my dear children was almost too much to forego. "We have just lost our father; now what should we do if our mother should be taken from us?" "But if I am rolled in quilts and laid on a bed in the wagon, I am confident I can be taken to father's house safely"—distant nearly three miles. In this way I was taken to my dying father, though unable to walk across the room without assistance. As soon as he learned of my coming, he directed them to lay me on the bed until I was rested. In a few minutes he sent them to bring me to him. As my son and brother led me to his bedside, he placed the cold purple fingers over my pulse, and said, "I am so glad to see thee, but I feared it would be too much for thee to bear. There is a little feverish excitement about thee yet. I am more concerned for thee than for the rest of my children, on account of thy large family, that will so much need their mother's counsel and care. I want to say to thee, Look up to the widow's God for guidance, for wisdom from him is so much needed, with the heavy responsibilities now resting upon thee. Do not allow these bereavements to crush thy feeble frame. I have feared they had already seriously affected thy health. I know thy anxiety to bring up thy children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. And he will grant ability to lead them to the Lamb of God, who shed his precious blood for us all." With other advice, he became weary, and said, "Now take her back to the other room, and lay her on the bed until rested." And during the few hours he lived he frequently sent for me to talk a few minutes at a time, watching my pulse each time, until within a few moments of the last farewell to earth.
There were six of his children present, to whom he gave his farewell blessing, leaving a bright evidence that all was well with him. "In me there is no merit. I am fully trusting in the merit of my crucified Savior, who shed his own precious blood for my redemption. I can say with Job, 'I know that my Redeemer lives,' and because he lives I shall live also." His last words, almost with his last breath, were, "Here she comes," and left this tabernacle for the building not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. Father and mother were lovely in their lives, and in their death were only two weeks divided. It seemed that my last earthly prop was gone. Three weeks later my youngest child followed her father and grandparents to the spirit home. Within six weeks, five of my nearest and dearest ones were taken from me.
There was hardly a family within two miles of us but was bereft of one or two loved ones by this epidemic. Five widows (myself included) at one time were standing around the death-bed of a near neighbor. Our female principal at that time, Emily Galpin, was taken with this epidemic, and died after three days' illness. A few hours previous to her death she requested a season of prayer, in which her husband, Rev. Charles Galpin, led. Her prospect was bright, and, clearly foreseeing the ransomed throng she was soon to join, said she, "Oh! how vain, how transitory, does all earthly treasure appear at this hour—a mere bubble upon the water." About a half an hour before she left us, she said, "Hark! don't you hear that beautiful music? Oh! what music; I never heard anything like it! Don't you hear it?" "No, we do not hear it." Being in an ecstasy, she exclaimed, "Look at that heavenly choir. Don't you see them? Don't you hear that sweetest of all music?" "We do not see them nor hear them." "There—they have left." A few minutes before her happy spirit took its flight, she again looked up very earnestly. "There they are again. Oh, how sweet! how beautiful!" And taking leave of her husband and two children, sister and brother-in-law, and of all present, committing her dear ones to the keeping of the Lord Jesus, with the request that the two lines,
"Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in thee,"
be placed upon the marble slab to mark her resting place, she fell asleep in Jesus.
Such fatality never before, nor since, visited Raisin as is 1845. In those days of sorrow commingled with the rest of faith, that brought peace and joy even in affliction, my only reliance was the widow's God, for wisdom I so much needed in the double responsibilities now resting upon me.
After the death of my sweet babe, twenty-two months of age, and my restoration to health, I looked over amounts of indebtedness with dates when due. I made an estimate of costs of harvesting and marketing the twenty acres of wheat and other grains, and what must be retained for family use; and found I would be able to reach only about half the amount due the following Autumn. I called on all our creditors within reach to inform them of probabilities, unless I could find sale for a portion of the stock. But none of the creditors wanted any of it. Said one, to whom the largest amount was due, "You do not think of taking your husband's business and carrying it forward, do you?" I replied, "I thought of trying to do the best I could with it." With a look of surprise, he said firmly, "You are very much mistaken, Mrs. Haviland; you can not do any such thing; you had much better appoint some man in whom you have confidence to transact your business for you." I informed him I had seven minor children left me, and I found seven hundred dollars of indebtedness, and it would cost money to hire an agent Then, I ought to know just where I stand, to enable me to look closely to expenditures. "Well, you can try it, but you'll find your mistake before six months have passed, and you'll see you had better have taken my advice." I knew I was not accustomed to business of this sort. All the other creditors whom I had seen spoke very kindly. Although these words were not unkindly spoken, yet they were saddening to my already sad heart.
I was too timid to go to the probate judge with any sort of ease for instruction. In looking around me for some female friend to accompany me, I could find but very few who were not undergoing like trials with myself, consequently I must submit to these new experiences, as whatever was right for me to do was proper. I depended upon an all wise guiding Hand, who is ever ready to reach it forth to the trusting child. I wrote to one, a few miles distant, to whom was due eighty dollars the ensuing Fall, that forty dollars would be all I should be able to meet. He called in