Free Buried in the Snow by Franz Hoffman Page A

followeth summer; after night the day returneth, and after a tempest a great calm. O Lord, grant that he may be restored to his friends. I gladly submit to Thy will, and doubt not that this trial, bitter though it be, will work out for him a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. I implore Thee, dear Lord, for the salvation of his precious soul. Grant that he may be Thy child, for Jesus Christ’s sake. Amen.’
    “These were the words, as nearly as I can remember, of my poor grandfather. He spoke slowly, and in a feeble voice. At times he repeated sentences from the Bible, particularly words of our Saviour, with so much fervor and Christian resignation as almost to break my heart. A circumstance, trifling in itself, moved me greatly. Blanchette, awakened by the unaccustomed light, set up a plaintive bleat.
    “‘Poor Blanchette!’ said the old man, ‘I must caress her once more; let her loose, my child, and lead her to my bed.’
    “I did as he wished, and Blanchette, confiding and tame as she was, put her two fore feet on the edge of the bed, and begged for something to eat. I thought it would please my grandfather, so I laid a little salt in his hand, and Blanchette licked it up with delight.
    “‘Give plenty of milk, you dear, faithful creature,’ said the old man, while he continued to stroke her caressingly. Then he turned aside his head, and I led Blanchette to her manger.
    “After that he spoke but little. He whispered that I should remain at his side, with his hand in mine. I said a few affectionate words, and they appeared to give him pleasure; I therefore leaned down, and said, with all the composure I could: ‘Farewell, grandfather! Farewell—until we meet in heaven. I will not forget your injunctions, but will strive to follow them. “I believe in God the Father; and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord.” Do not be troubled about me, grandfather: God will be my support; I will lean upon his strong arm!’
    “Here my poor grandfather pressed my hand, and made an effort to answer, but he could only express his joy by a sigh.
    “‘I will remember all the advice you gave me,’ I continued, ‘and neglect nothing that will tend to preserve my life, or help to deliver me from this imprisonment. Farewell, dear grandfather! In heaven you will see my dear mother, perhaps my father; tell them both I will meet you all there someday. Farewell! Farewell!’
    “I felt a tremor, a gentle tremor as I held his hand, it was the last: his dear, cold hand fell from mine. “God . . with thee, . . my child,’ he whispered—and he died, without pain, without one struggle, without one groan.
    “My most painful moments were not those first experienced. When I recovered from the stupor which his death produced, and found myself in my sad dwelling, alone with the dead body, I involuntarily shuddered, for night with her mysterious shadow had come.
    “The next morning I had so far regained composure as to wind up the clock and milk Blanchette; the cold too, reminded me that I must make the fire; then I sank into dark, gloomy thought, that lasted until evening, when a storm arose, and the wailing and roaring of its angry blasts aroused me from my stupor.
    “I was sitting in the chimney corner by the feeble glimmer of the night-light with my back turned toward the bed. I felt a sort of horror gradually creeping over me; I could no longer collect my thoughts; chill after chill ran through my frame; and I would perhaps have lost my reason through my mental anguish and terror, if God had not brought to my remembrance the words of my grandfather. I rose up and approached the bed: I looked upon his poor body; I laid my hand upon it—it was a painful moment; I repeated my look, my touch, and I felt my terror gradually subside.
    “Since that time, I have returned at intervals to the remains of the dear old man, and fulfilled for him, tranquilly and calmly, all those little services which the occasion required.