on millinery establishments and confectionery shops.  And though we were some years of age before we heard the trill of a piano, we knew well about the song of ‘The Spinning-wheel.’  There were no lords, or baronets, or princes in our ancestral line.  None wore stars, cockade, or crest.  There was once a family coat of arms, but we were none of us wise enough to tell its meaning.  Do our best, we cannot find anything about our forerunners, except that they behaved well, came over from Wales or Holland a good while ago, and died when their time came.  Some of them may have had fine equipage and caparisoned postillion, but the most of them were only footmen.  My father started in life belonging to the aristocracy of hard knuckles and homespun, but had this high honor that no one could despise.  He was the son of a father who loved God, and kept His commandments.  What is the House of Hapsburg or Stuarts, compared with being son of the Lord God Almighty?  Two eyes, two hands, and two feet, were the capital my father started with.  For fifteen years an invalid, he had a fearful struggle to support his large family.  Nothing but faith in God upheld him.  His recital of help afforded, and deliverances wrought, was more like a romance than a reality.  He walked through many a desert, but every morning had its manna, and every night it’s pillar of fire, and every hard rock a rod that could shatter it into crystal fountains at his feet.  More than once he came to his last dollar; but right behind that last dollar he found Him who owns the cattle on a thousand hills, and out of the palm of whose hand all the fowls of heaven peck their food, and who hath given to each one of His disciples a warrantable deed for the whole universe in the words, ‘All are yours.’

“The path that led him through financial straits, prepared him also for sore bereavements.  The infant of days was smitten, and he laid it into the river of death with as much confidence as infant Moses was laid into the Ark of the Nile, knowing that soon from the royal palace a shining One would come to fetch it.

“In an island of the sea, among strangers, almost unattended, death came to a beloved son; and though I remember the darkness that dropped on the household when the black-sealed letter was opened, I remember also the utterances of Christian submission.

“Another bearing his own name, just on the threshold of manhood, his heart beating high with hope, falls into the dust; but above the cries of early widowhood and the desolation of that dark day, I hear the patriarch’s prayer, commending children, and children’s children, to the Divine sympathy.