A Lady of England 30

A Lady of England 30

‘_Sept. 9, 1867._

 

‘Poor little Otho has rallied again, though the doctor holds

out no hope of ultimate recovery. This is a sad time for

my poor Laura, though there are sorer trials than that of

bereavement.’

 

The Hamiltons were at this time in great trouble, as they watched the

long-drawn-out sufferings of their dying boy; and many letters were

written by Charlotte to her favourite sister, full of intense feeling.

Day by day she lived with them in their sorrow, anxiously looking out for

fresh tidings, and thinking what she could say to comfort or soothe.

 

TO MRS. HAMILTON.

 

‘_Oct. 30, 1867._

 

‘PRECIOUS SISTER,--Your touching letter has quickened the

spirit of Prayer; but oh, I feel as if my prayers were often

so weak and worthless. I want more faith, more earnestness. I

have not time to write more, but could not let _that_ letter be

unanswered by your loving

 

‘C. M. T.’

 

TO THE SAME.

 

‘_Nov. 9, 1867._

 

‘Fanny and I have been conversing to-night on the subject

of your dear suffering boy. You long fervently to see him

rejoicing in the prospect of departing and being with Christ.

Perhaps the one obstacle to his being able to do so is the

thought of parting from you. If his Mother were going with him,

he may think, he would be happy to go.

 

‘Now to me, were I in your darling’s position, there would be

comfort and pleasure in the idea--“Perhaps, as regards me,

leaving the body will _not_ be real separation from dear ones.

Perhaps I may be allowed to come to them, and minister to them,

and cheer them; though they cannot see me I may see them!” This

idea does not appear opposed to scripture. The rich man in the

parable believed that Lazarus _could_ go to Earth; and Abraham

never said that he could _not_. If dear Otho thought that he

might possibly be permitted to watch over his Mother, and help

to make her happy, and be one of the first to welcome her to

bliss,--perhaps the real bitterness of death would for him seem

taken away. It seems quite possible that dear Robin was by his

child’s sick-bed, and that she _saw_ him, when her face so

lighted up with joy. “I believe in the Communion of Saints.”

 

‘Your dear boy is very young. A child’s religion seems almost

to begin with the Fifth Commandment. We can hardly yet expect

dear Otho to love the Lord whom he has not seen _more_ than the

parents whom he has seen and fondly loved. Do you not think,

darling, that you are almost _too_ anxious on the subject of

Otho’s state of mind? He is only a lamb; and the Good Shepherd

knows that he needs to be carried.

 

‘I should like to know when your dear boy takes the Holy

Communion, that I may be with you in thought and in prayer.

Otho is an invited guest to the Great Feast above; his robe is

prepared by his Lord,--don’t fear, love, that it will not be

very white and very fair....

 

‘_P.S._--_Nov. 10._--I have been thinking much of your dear one

in church; and I open my note to add another reason suggested

to my mind, as a cause why he may be unable ... to feel joy in

the thought of departure. You and I, my Laura, have known many

of God’s saints now in bliss; we have almost as many dear

friends in the world of spirits as in this. Perhaps we are

hardly aware of the influence which this has on our minds,--how

it helps to make Heaven a home. Your dear boy may feel that he

is going to enter amongst a great company of saints, almost

every one of whom is a stranger to him. To one so reserved as

Otho, this may be rather an awful thought. I wonder if it is

a comfort to him to think of sweet Letitia and Christian[13]

being there. Perhaps if you reminded him of that, it might

remove a feeling which--if he entertains it--he might not like

to mention even to you.’

 

TO THE SAME.

 

‘_Nov. 13, 1867._

 

‘I thank God that He has made your darling willing to depart,

even to leave you. Your note is deeply interesting; and I think

you may feel that your prayers have been answered.... You must

now only think of the “far more exceeding and eternal weight of

glory.” Probably every hour of suffering in some mysterious way

enhances and increases future rapture,--rapture more intense

than we can conceive. The longer I live, the more convinced I

feel that there _is_ this mysterious connection--in the case of

God’s children--between personal pain and future delight. So

that, if we could, as we fain would, shield our treasures from

suffering, we might be depriving them of some rich blessing.

 

‘_You_ are in the furnace, my precious sister,--a hotter

furnace, perhaps, than that which tries your child. I need not

repeat that whenever you want me, you have only to send for me.

You and I understand each other! How sweet is the tie between

us! Dear Mother is apt to indulge hopes of your boy’s recovery.

I think that she hardly realises his state, and probably she

scarcely knows how to write under the circumstances. She has

had a cold these last few days, but is, I hope, throwing it

off....

 

‘I send you a little book,[14] which I am sure will interest

you. It has been a mournful pleasure to me to prepare it. Your

lamb as well as mine will probably soon “be folded above.”’

 

TO MRS. HAMILTON.

 

‘_Nov. 14, 1867._

 

‘My heart feels more with you, my Laura, in that still

sick-room than here. Perhaps many angels are about you and your

boy, though you see them not.

 

‘Like your dear invalid, I am especially fond of St. Luke’s

account of the dying thief. There is something so touching

in his looking at such a moment to the Saviour, whose Blood,

shed for his salvation, was at that moment trickling down in

his view; and there is something so sublime in our Lord’s

conferring Eternal Life,--such a gift,--at the time when He was

Himself undergoing the terrible sentence of death! We may envy

your dear suffering child, my Laura, when we think how soon, in

human expectation, his eyes will behold the King in His beauty.

 

‘O darling, you could hardly wish to keep him back, when the

Master calls him,--calls him to His Home--His Arms!

 

‘I feel for your dear husband; this is a time of sore trial

for him; but you suffer together. May God give you both “songs

in the night.” Those songs are perhaps sweeter to Him than the

Hallelujahs of the Angels.’

 

TO THE SAME.

 

‘_Nov. 21, 1867._

 

‘How well I know that feeling which you describe,--the feeling

of being unable to pray fervently,--of being scarcely able to

pray at all! This is probably caused ... by fatigue of body, and

overstraining of mind and nerves. Perhaps God permits it, that

we should just sink in complete helplessness at our Saviour’s

Feet, and ask Him to pray for us, since we cannot pray for

ourselves.... You may be like a very little child, that can’t

even _ask_ for what it needs, but yet trusts and fears not.’

 

TO MISS LEILA HAMILTON.

 

‘_Dec. 11, 1867._

 

‘Your very very sad account of dear Otho received this morning

makes one think that, even before this reaches you, the

sufferer may have been called _home_! Oh what a blessing it

is that it is indeed Home.... Dear Otho has had a sorely trying

journey, wintry and wearisome indeed; but there is no shadow,

never can be a shadow, on the Home to which he is bound. He

will never have to leave it again, to learn the lesson of

patience in pain. He will, through his Lord’s merits, be

ready there to welcome the dear ones whom he is now leaving

behind,--when they too may quit their school, and go to their

Father in Heaven....

 

‘This is a solemn time for you, my Leila. I had reached the

age of thirty before I ever lo