spirits lifted into peace on the wings of that brave, sweet psalm.
As Meg listened, she felt that she had done well; for not only did
the moment comfort her with the assurance that John’s last lullaby
was sung by the young voices he loved so well, but in the faces of
the boys she saw that they had caught a glimpse of the beauty of
virtue in its most impressive form, and that the memory of the
good man lying dead before them would live long and helpfully in
their remembrance. Daisy’s head lay in her lap, and Demi held her
hand, looking often at her, with eyes so like his father’s, and a little
gesture that seemed to say, “Don’t be troubled, mother; I am here;”
and all about her were friends to lean upon and love; so patient,
pious Meg put by her heavy grief, feeling that her best help would
be to live for others, as her John had done.
That evening, as the Plumfield boys sat on the steps, as usual, in
the mild September moonlight, they naturally fell to talking of the
event of the day.
Emil began by breaking out, in his impetuous way, “Uncle Fritz is
the wisest, and Uncle Laurie the jolliest, but Uncle John was the
best; and I’d rather be like him than any man I ever saw.”
“So would I. Did you hear what those gentlemen said to Grandpa
to-day? I would like to have that said of me when I was dead;” and
Franz felt with regret that he had not appreciated Uncle John
enough.
“What did they say?” asked Jack, who had been much impressed
by the scenes of the day.
“Why, one of the partners of Mr. Laurence, where Uncle John has
been ever so long, was saying that he was conscientious almost to
a fault as a business man, and above reproach in all things.
Another gentleman said no money could repay the fidelity and
honesty with which Uncle John had served him, and then Grandpa
told them the best of all. Uncle John once had a place in the office
of a man who cheated, and when this man wanted uncle to help
him do it, uncle wouldn’t, though he was offered a big salary. The
man was angry and said, ‘You will never get on in business with
such strict principles;’ and uncle answered back, ‘I never will try to
get on without them,’ and left the place for a much harder and
poorer one.”
“Good!” cried several of the boys warmly, for they were in the
mood to understand and value the little story as never before.
“He wasn’t rich, was he?” asked Jack.
“No.”
“He never did any thing to make a stir in the world, did he?”
“No.”
“He was only good?”
“That’s all;” and Franz found himself wishing that Uncle John had
done something to boast of, for it was evident that Jack was
disappointed by his replies.
“Only good. That is all and every thing,” said Mr. Bhaer, who had
overheard the last few words, and guessed what was going on the
minds of the lads.
“Let me tell you a little about John Brooke, and you will see why
men honor him, and why he was satisfied to be good rather than
rich or famous. He simply did his duty in all things, and did it so
cheerfully, so faithfully, that it kept him patient and brave, and
happy through poverty and loneliness and years of hard work. He
was a good son, and gave up his own plans to stay and live with his
mother while she needed him. He was a good friend, and taught
Laurie much beside his Greek and Latin, did it unconsciously,
perhaps, by showing him an example of an upright man. He was a
faithful servant, and made himself so valuable to those who
employed him that they will find it hard to fill his place. He was a
good husband and father, so tender, wise, and thoughtful, that
Laurie and I learned much of him, and only knew how well he
loved his family, when we discovered all he had done for them,