DEAR BRETHREN AND SISTERS IN THE STATES, GREETING:—
After waiting more than a year, our little son's final operation was finished in January, and on February 9 our family of four set sail on the steamship “Heredia,” from New Orleans, La., for Chile, via the Canal Zone. Both children took slight colds crossing the gulf, and daughter showed decided weariness a time or two before reaching Colon, and also during the day we spent crossing the isthmus, but after we were aboard the “Huasco” and began our journey down the west coast, she seemed entirely well, and was bright and joyous all day long.
Her baby plans and conversation had long been full of Chile and the Pua school; many times she had packed her playthings, and with her dolls and Teddy Bear had begun the journey to Chile, only to find, when her play was over, that she must begin all over again. But now at last our plans were to be realized! We were really on our way! A happier family could not have been found.
The evening of the fourth day on board, we entered the bay at Guayaquil, Ecuador. Daughter seemed overpowered with sleep and unable to eat. But we supposed she only needed more sleep, and hoped morning would bring us her sunny, cheerful self again.
The Sabbath dawned clear and bright. We were very near the equator, but the sea air was pleasant and refreshing. Daughter was no better, and with anxious hearts we ministered to her, trusting to see her soon recover. She called for us to read to her, and I read and reread old copies of Our Little Friend. As I finished, she said, “Read more, and more, and more,” so hungry was her baby mind to hear and learn. That day as we sat on deck, I told her stories of children, and among others some in which the children had passed away. She said eagerly, “But, mother, it’s only sleep. You know Jesus says it’s only sleep, and when he comes he’ll wake them up.” Dear, trusting child!
A FALLEN MISSIONARY, CALLAO, PERU
Next day she grew worse, and asked, “Mother, when shall we get to South America?” I replied, “Dear child, we are off the coast of South America now.” “But,” she persisted, “when shall we reach Chile? I am so tired of this boat and want to get to Chile.”
That night our beloved first-born fell asleep, lacking just a month of being five years of age. When we saw that death would rob us of her we loved so well, I whispered in her ear that she was falling asleep, but Jesus would wake her up again, and the angels would bring her to mother’s arms. She slowly nodded her head in understanding, and the bright, intelligent eyes grew dim in death.
We were far out at sea, but the good captain gave permission to carry her body to Callao. As soon as our sad experience became known to the passengers and crew, there was a feeling of sorrow and sympathy that seemed to knit all hearts as one. Our sorrow became theirs. The sunny, fair-haired girlie had won many friends, and now her brief days were ended. They insisted on defraying all expenses of the interment, even to purchasing the modest stone that was to mark her lowly resting place. Two days and a half we had her body in our cabin, and then the interment took place in Bella Vista cemetery, between Callao and Lima, Peru.
We continued our journey, and two weeks later reached Pua, four hundred and twenty-four miles south of Santiago, lonely and sad for our daughter.
As never before we long for our eternal home, where families will all be reunited, and where death will be unknown. Our courage in God was never greater. We rejoice in hope. How doubly precious is the light of present truth!
Our health is good, and we thoroughly enjoy our work. School began April 6, and is going nicely, although the attendance is small. We think Chile a wonderful country.
To the many who have written letters of sympathy, we express our appreciation. Your prayers in our behalf have been answered, and God has sent the comfort of his Spirit.
