y children wealth or
honour, but I do ask that they all may be the subjects of Thy converting
grace." Her eleven children brought into the kingdom of God, she had but
one more wish, and that was that she might see her long-absent
missionary son, and when the ship from China anchored in New York
harbour, and the long-absent one passed over the threshold of his
paternal home, she said, "Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in
peace, for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation." The prayer was soon
answered.

My father, as long as I can remember, was an elder in churches. He
conducted prayer-meetings in the country, when he was sometimes the only
man to take part, giving out a hymn and leading the singing; then
reading the Scriptures and offering prayer; then giving out another hymn
and leading in that; and then praying again; and so continuing the
meeting for the usual length of time, and with no lack of interest.

When the church choir would break down, everybody looked around to see
if he were not ready with "Woodstock," "Mount Pisgah" or "Uxbridge." And
when all his familiar tunes failed to express the joy of his soul, he
would take up his own pen, draw five long lines across the sheet, put in
the notes, and then to the tune he called "Bound Brook," begin to sing:

As when the weary traveller gains
The height of some o'erlooking hill,
His heart revives if 'cross the plains
He eyes his home, though distant still;

Thus, when the Christian pilgrim views,
By faith, his mansion in the skies,
The sight his fainting strength renews,
And wings his speed to reach the prize.

'Tis there, he says, I am to dwell
With Jesus in the realms of day;
There I shall bid my cares farewell
And He will wipe my tears away.

He knew about all the cheerful tunes that were ever printed in old "New
Brunswick Collection," and the "Shunway," and the sweetest melodies that
Thomas Hastings ever composed. He took the pitch of sacred song on
Sabbath morning, and kept it through all the week.

My father was the only person whom I ever knew without any element of
fear. I do not believe he understood the sensation.

Seated in a waggon one day during a runaway that every moment threatened
our demolition, he was perfectly calm. He turned around to me, a boy of
seven years, and said, "DeWitt, what are you crying about? I guess we
can ride as fast as they can run."

There was one scene