Part 9 (1/2)

And he did talk about it, and our hearts rejoiced with him.

Of him it could be truthfully said, ”What he once loved he now hates, and does it so thoroughly that he does not even wish to talk about it.”

While writing these pleasant memories, perhaps I cannot do better than here record the remarkable closing scenes of the life of this venerable old man, the patriarch of the village. His family was a large one. He had several sons. Worthy, excellent men they were. About some of them we shall have interesting things to say. The youngest, Edward, it was my joy to lead into the sweet a.s.surance that his sins were all forgiven.

In July, 1889, he was ordained, in Winnipeg, to the office and work of the Christian ministry.

Martin, another of his sons, was one of my most loved and trusted guides, and my companion, for thousands of miles, in birch canoe by summer, and dog-trains by winter. We have looked death in the face together many times, but I never knew him to flinch or play a coward's part. Supplies might fail, and storms and head-winds delay us, until starvation stared us in the face, and even the Missionary himself began to question the wisdom of taking these wild journeys where the chances were largely against our return, when from Martin, or one of the others, would come the apt quotation from the Sacred Word, or from their musical voices the cheering hymn which said,--

”Give to the winds thy fears; Hope, and be undismayed: G.o.d hears thy sighs, and counts thy tears, G.o.d shall lift up thy head.

”Through waves and clouds and storms He gently clears thy way: Wait thou His time, so shall this night Soon end in joyous day.”

Very precious and very real were many of the blessed promises, and their fulfilment, to us in those times of peril and danger, when death seemed to be so near, and we so helpless and dependent upon the Almighty arm.

Another son of this old saint was Samuel, the courageous guide and modest, una.s.suming Christian. He was the one who guided his well-loaded brigade up the mighty Saskatchewan river to the rescue of the whites there, and having safely and grandly done his work, ”holding on to G.o.d,”

went up the s.h.i.+ning way so triumphantly that there lingered behind on his once pallid face some radiance of the glory like that into which he had entered; and some seeing it were smitten with a longing to have it as their portion, and so, then and there, they gave themselves to G.o.d.

Of him we shall hear more farther on.

One day when the venerable father met his cla.s.s, he told his members that his work was nearly done, and very soon indeed he expected to pa.s.s over to the better land. Although as well as he had been for months, yet he had a premonition that the end of his life was near. Very lovingly and faithfully did he talk to them, and exhorted them to be faithful to the end.

The next day he sent for me, and requested me to appoint one of his sons as leader of his cla.s.s, if I thought him worthy of the place.

I said, ”We do not want to lose you. Your cla.s.s members all love you.

Why resign your position?”

A strange look in his face told me that he had set his heart on joining another company, and that it seemed as though he were only postponing his departure until his little affairs on earth were set in order.

”I am going very soon now, and I want to have everything settled before I go; and I shall be so glad to see my son William leader of my cla.s.s, if you think it best.”

As the son was a most excellent man the appointment was made, much to the aged father's delight.

The next day he had a.s.sembled all the old members who had renounced paganism and become Christians at the same time as he did, over thirty years before. There were enough of them to fill his house, and all came who possibly could. They sang and prayed together, and then he stood up before them and addressed them in loving and affectionate words.

As I sat there and looked upon the scene, while, for about an hour, he was reviewing the past, and talking of G.o.d's goodness in bringing them out of paganism, and conferring so many blessings upon them, I thought of Joshua's memorable gathering of the elder people at Shechem to hear his dying charge. At his request I administered to them all, and those of his many relations who were worthy, the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. It was a most impressive time. He Whose dying we celebrated seemed in Spirit very blessedly near.

Then perhaps another hour was spent, at his desire, in singing his favourite hymns and in prayer. He entered with great spirit into the devotions, and many said afterwards, ”Heaven seemed very near.” I shook hands with him and said, ”Goodbye,” and returned to my home. With the exception of a little weariness on account of the exciting services through which he had pa.s.sed, I saw no change in him. His voice was just as cheery, his eye as bright, his grip as firm as usual, and I saw no reason why he should not live a good while yet.

About an hour after, while talking the matter over with Mrs Young, and giving her some of the specially interesting incidents of the memorable services with our dear old friend, there was a sudden call for me by an Indian, who, rus.h.i.+ng in without any ceremony, exclaimed, ”Come quickly; grandfather is dead!” I hurriedly returned with him, and found that the aged patriarch had indeed pa.s.sed away.

They told me that after I had left them he continued for a time to speak loving words of counsel and advice to them. Then, as had been his habit, he lay down on his bed, and drew his blanket around him, as though prepared for rest. As they knew he must be weary, they kept very still, so as not to disturb him. Not hearing him breathe, one of them touched him, and found that he had fallen into that sleep which here knows no waking. He was not, for G.o.d had taken him.

It was a remarkable death. The great difficulty among us seemed to be, to realise the presence of death at all. He suffered from no disease, and never complained of pain. His mind was unclouded till the last. In his humble position he had done his work, and done it well; and so now, with all the confidence of a loving child resting in the arms of a mother, he laid his head down on the bosom of his Lord.

With rejoicings, rather than weepings, we laid in the little graveyard all that was mortal of William Papanekis. We missed him very much, for his presence was like the suns.h.i.+ne, and his prayers were benedictions upon us all.

CHAPTER TEN.