Part 41

“Well, it’s too bad,” exclaimed a rosy little girl of nine or ten summers. “I mean to go speak to him. That’ll wake him up. He’s always so good to us, I hate to have folks look queer at him, and make fun of his ways.”

“Why, Nelly, he don’t care for the laughing.”

“No matter; I do,” stoutly maintained the child; and going up to the old man, she softly pulled his clean, patched sleeve, and said, “Uncle Tommy, if you please, do look here!”

He did not seem to hear her for a little while; then passing his hand across his forehead, as if rousing himself, he turned, with a pleasant, cheering manner, to the children, who had gathered around him: “Ah! little Nelly, is it you? and all my little people? why you’re out early this good morning. May the blessing of Our Father shine through your young hearts, making beautiful your lives, as the sunshine makes beautiful your fresh young faces!”

“Uncle Tommy,” said John Anton, “what makes you love the sun so like everything?”

Old Tommy smiled at the boy’s eagerness; but looking upward, he answered: “I love it as the first, brightest gift of Our Father. I see in it the purest emblem of Him whose dwelling is the light.” After a moment’s silence, he extended his hands over the children’s heads, saying fervently, “Pour thy light into their souls, O Father, that, the eyes of the mind being opened, they may see Thee in all thy works!” Then taking Nelly by the hand, he asked, if they were not too soon for school.

“Yes,” answered she; “for we came to hear the bells chime. It’s so pleasant, Uncle Tommy, perhaps you will tell us something. Just a little while, till the teachers come.”

“O yes, do now, Uncle Tommy, tell us some of the nice stories you know,” chimed in the whole group.

“I’ll be still as a mouse, if you will,” coaxed a lively child, whose ceaseless motion usually disturbed all quiet talk.

Uncle Tommy patted her curly head, and good-naturedly consented to gratify them, “if they would try and be good as the flowers in the meadow yonder.”

“Yes, yes, we will,” shouted they.

“Now lean on me, and I’ll help you, Uncle Tommy,” said Nelly, who usually assumed the charge of him when she found an opportunity. So, with one hand resting upon her shoulder, and the other supported by his staff, the old man, who looked older now, as his hat shaded his face, moved feebly forward, surrounded by the happy children. They walked a few steps beyond the corner of the church, and soon came to a projection in one of the buttresses, that was often used by the people as a seat in summer; hither they carefully led Uncle Tommy, who could still enjoy his beloved sunshine, whilst he rested his weary limbs. It was a sight worthy of an artist’s pencil; the ancient stone church, the venerable man, the young children, the lofty trees, the birds, the shadows, the sunlight, and the graves.

“Sha’n’t I take off your hat,” asked John, “so you can feel warm?” and away went the hat, to the mutual satisfaction of Uncle Tommy and the children; for they loved him, and liked to see his white hair in the bright sunbeams,--“looking exactly like the ‘Mary’s threads’ on the dewy grass, so silvery and shiny,” Nelly used to say.

“What are you going to tell us?” urged the impatient little Janette, softly.

He looked all around before speaking; up at the distant blue sky flooded with light; abroad upon the fields clothed in richest verdure; at the gently rustling elms; the oaks, the yews, and hemlocks in the quiet churchyard; the eager living group at his feet; all were seen in that one comprehensive glance. “It is my birthday, little people,” said he, at length, smilingly nodding to them.

“Why Uncle Tommy,” cried the astonished children, in their simplicity, “do you have birthdays, like us? We thought you was too old!”

“Yes, yes,” said he, shaking his head, “I’m very old, but I remember my birthdays still. It’s ninety years, this blessed day, since I came here a wee bit of a baby; and what a blessed Father has led me the long weary way!”

“Shall you like to die, Uncle Tommy? Do you want to die?” asked Nelly.

“I want, dear child, to live just as long as our Father pleases. I don’t feel impatient to go nor to stay; ’cause that a’n’t right, Nelly. I want to do exactly as God wills; but I sha’n’t feel sorry to go when the time comes; all I wish about it is, that the sun may shine like now when I go home, and that I may know it.”

Another little boy here joined the group. He was the youngest son of the Rector. He had only returned home the previous day to pass the summer vacation, after a six months’ absence. There was a little shyness at first between the children, which soon disappeared before the kindly influence of the old man, in whose eyes all human beings were recognized as the children of God. With him there were no rich and no poor.

“Welcome home again, little Herman!” was his greeting, accompanied by a smile so genial, it went straight to the boy’s heart.

“Thank you, Uncle Tommy,” said he, shaking hands, cordially. “I am right glad to be here, I can assure you; and very glad to see you in your old corner, looking so well. But what were you saying about ‘going home,’ when I interrupted you by coming up? Pray go on.”

Before he could answer, Janette said, “It’s Uncle Tommy’s birthday, this is!”

“Indeed! and how old is he?” asked Herman, looking at the old man for a reply.

“Ninety years, thank God,” was the cheerful answer.

“O what a long, long time to live!” slowly fell from Herman’s lips. He was a delicate boy, and thoughtful beyond his years, as is often the case with invalid children; and now he rested his pale, intelligent face upon his hand, with his eyes fixed on Uncle Tommy, and thought what a long, long time was ninety years! Then he looked upon the graves, and wondered whether any of those whose bodies were lying there knew what an old, old man was still seeing the sun shine so long after they were gone. There were little graves and large ones; Uncle Tommy knew almost all of them, and still he lived on all alone; and they had some of them left families. He wondered on and on; his reverie was short, but crowded with perplexing thoughts.

Uncle Tommy put an end to it, by saying, in answer to Herman’s words, “The time is only long, when I don’t mind our Father’s will. When I obey, as the sun, and the wind, and all about us in Nature does, then I’m as happy as a cretur can be; and time seems just right. But what I was a saying about going home was this; I a’n’t in a hurry to go, ’cause I’m here so long; nor am I wanting to stay; only just as God pleases. But when the time does come, I’ll be glad to go home, after my school time here is over. P’r’aps just as you feel now, Herman; and I hope when Uncle Tommy has gone, with the sunshine, out there, you little people will learn to love the fair works of God our Father, just as he does now. And don’t forget when you’re a going to be unkind or naughty, that you little ones, and all the little children, and all the grown people, are the fairest, noblest of God’s works. And if you think of Uncle Tommy, when you see the sun shine, and the pretty flowers and birds, and remember how he loved them, think of him when you are a going to strike one another, or do any naughty thing, and remember how often he has told you about the dear Jesus, who took little children in his arms and blessed them, and told all the people, great and small, to love God best, and then to love one another as they loved themselves. Now if you try to think of this, I don’t believe you’ll be naughty very often; and the fewer times you’re naughty, the happier you’ll be when you look round on this dear beautiful world.”

“But, Uncle Tommy,” said Nelly, “we forget about being good sometimes, when we get cross, and everybody scolds at us ’cause we are so naughty; and that makes us act worse, ever so much; don’t it, Ann?” appealing to a girl about her own age.