Arthur Hamilton, and His Dog

by Anonymous

  CHAPTER IX.

  THE SECOND GATHERING.

  Once more the family stood together under the cottage roof; once morethe neighbors and friends one by one, silently passed in; once more acoffin stood upon the table, and aged men and women, and middle-aged andchildren looked into it with weeping eyes; once more stifled sobs wereheard; once more that mother with her children sat in the inner room;but not all; all were not there. The pale weeping boy was no longerclinging to his mother's side. He slept; and tears would never dim hiseyelids more.

  Sweet, gentle Arthur; _his_ dust was now fair to look upon. He hadnever been a beautiful child, but his face wore a sweet and mildexpression in life, and it was serene and sweet in death. Once more, thevoice of prayer was heard, and the sweet hymn was sung; once more theywalked to the place of graves; and he, who just eight weeks before hadstood weeping there, was now gently laid down to sleep "that sleep,which knows not waking" till "the trump of God shall sound."

  "Unvail thy bosom, faithful tomb! Take this new treasure to thy trust; And give these sacred relics room To slumber in the silent dust."

  Once more, slowly and sadly, the stricken family went to their home, nowstill more vacant--still more desolate! Once more Christian faith shedits soul-cheering light into the aching heart; once more the sorrowingfound "there was balm in Gilead, and a physician there."

  CHAPTER X.

  ROVER, WHERE IS HE?

  The day little Arthur was laid in the grave, Rover was seen to stand inMr. Martin's yard, as the body of his young master was carried out; andwhen Mr. and Mrs. Martin returned home and found Rover was not there,they supposed he had gone with the procession, and had remained behindat his old home, and therefore they felt no anxiety about him. At Mrs.Hamilton's when the question was asked, "Where is Rover?" some onereplied, "he staid at Mr. Martin's probably; nothing has been seen ofhim here."

  He would now be more fondly cherished than ever by the brothers andsisters of his beloved master; and they resolved to send for him as soonas possible and bring him back. He had been such a fond and faithfulfriend to dear little Arthur, and had contributed so much to hisenjoyment the last year of his life, that henceforth he would beassociated with the image of that dear, dead brother, and would have forthem a tender and mournful interest. When they sent for him, nothingcould be found of the poor creature; no one had seen him, nor did longand protracted search discover any tidings or traces of him. Had hewandered off into the woods on that mournful day, and laid down and diedof grief? Had he been stolen and carried off? Had he been accidentallydestroyed? No one could tell. No one ever knew. But now, after longyears have passed away, with the memory of little Arthur Hamilton isassociated that of the faithful Rover; and an allusion to the dear childso early called away, is sure to bring up the remembrance of Rover, andof his mysterious end.

  CHAPTER XI.

  THE TWO GRAVES.

  It is twenty-two years since Henry and Arthur Hamilton were buried inthat little grave-yard. Last spring, passing by the spot, I got out ofthe carriage and entered the quiet little enclosure. I well rememberedwhere they lay, after this lapse of years, and without difficulty foundthe spot. Two small white stones had been erected, and I sat down on thegrass and spent an half hour in gentle musing, and in half-sad,half-pleasing memories. Once more the manly form and beaming face ofHenry Hamilton rose before me, and I seemed to hear his clear, ringinglaugh. I thought of all his sanguine hopes and earnest plans forusefulness; how eagerly he had striven to excel in study; how warmly hehad sympathized with the suffering and sorrowful; how joyfully he hadentered into the recreations of the happy; and then I thought of thesudden blighting of all those warm affections, those passionate desires.But were they blighted? Rather, was not all that was good and lovely inhim, still existing and perfecting? Was he not still loving,sympathizing, rejoicing? True, that outward form was now dust beneath myfeet, and it was sad that any thing so beautiful should have passed awayfrom before our eyes; but the warmly-beating soul with all its noblelongings, and rich aspirations, had not perished with it. When, oh when,shall we learn that we and those we love, are immortal beings? Whenshall we learn that death does not destroy, only remove them and us?

  The grass had sprung up thick and green over little Arthur's grave, andthe sweet morning sunlight lay quietly upon it. One little blue violethad opened its pretty leaves, and lay there smiling. I was about to pickit, to keep as a little memorial of the spot and the hour, but it seemedso full of life; so fit a companion for the precious dust beneath, Iwould not shorten its existence, but left it to wither there.

  My tears flowed; for little Arthur was a child I had dearly loved; butyet I knew not why I should mourn his early death. The God who hadwatched over him here, was still watching over him, and we need not fearto trust that loving Friend. Death is not terrible in itself; it is sinthat makes it fearful. If we were pure and holy, we should be happyhere, or in another world, just where God thought best to place us; butwe are sinful, and we need pardon and redemption from sin, before we canlook calmly and fearlessly upon the grave. Jesus Christ has told us howready he is to forgive sin; how much he has suffered that we might beforgiven, and to every human being, even to the youngest who reads thispage, he is saying, "Come unto me ye that are weary and heavy laden andI will give you rest."

  THE SOUL'S RETURN.

  Return, my soul, unto thy rest, From vain pursuits and maddening cares; From lonely woes that wring thy breast, The world's allurements, toils and snares.

  Return unto thy rest, my soul, From all the wanderings of thy thought; From sickness unto death made whole, Safe through a thousand perils brought.

  Then to thy rest, my soul, return, From passions every hour at strife; Sin's works, and ways, and wages spurn, Lay hold upon eternal life.

  God is thy rest;--with heart inclined To keep his word, that word believe; Christ is thy rest;--with lowly mind, His light and easy yoke receive.

  THE END.