n take thy crown.'"

"That's it!" exclaimed Miss Anthony. "Give us a good sermon on that
text."

She went to her room to sleep the sleep of the just and the untroubled,
but I tossed in my bed the rest of the night, planning the points of
the new sermon. After I had delivered it the next morning I went to my
father to assist him from the platform. He was trembling, and his eyes
were full of tears. He seized my arm and pressed it.

"Now I am ready to die," was all he said.

I was so tired that I felt ready to die, too; but his satisfaction and a
glance at Aunt Susan's contented face gave me the tonic I needed. Father
died two years later, and as I was campaigning in California I was not
with him at the end. It was a comfort to remember, however, that in the
twilight of his life he had learned to understand his most difficult
daughter, and to give her credit for earnestness of purpose, at least,
in following the life that had led her away from him. After his death,
and immediately upon my return from California, I visited my mother,
and it was well indeed that I did, for within a few months she followed
father into the other world for which all of her unselfish life had been
a preparation.

Our last days together were perfect. Her attitude was one of serene
and cheerful expectancy, and I always think of her as sitting among the
primroses and bluebells she loved, which seemed to bloom unceasingly in
the windows of her room. I recall, too, with gratitude, a trifle which
gave her a pleasure out of all proportion to what I had dreamed it
would do. She had expressed a longing for some English heather, "not
the hot-house variety, but the kind that blooms on the hills," and I had
succeeded in getting a bunch for her by writing to an English friend.

Its possession filled her with joy, and from the time it came until the
day her eyes closed in their last sleep it was rarely beyond reach of
her hand. At her request, when she was buried we laid the heather on her
heart--the heart of a true and loyal woman, who, though her children had
not known it, must have longed without ceasing throughout her New World
life for the Old World of her youth.

The Scandinavian speech was an even more vital experience than the
Chicago one, for in Stockholm I delivered the first sermon ever preached
by a woman in the State Church of Sweden, and the event was preceded
by an amount of political and journalistic opposition which gave it an
interna