"Did you know him?"
"He was my father; and a better father never lived."
"He was a religious man; was he not?"
"Yes, Sir; and he died in the faith of Christ."
"I hope you are following in his steps."
"It is, Sir, my wish and my prayer to be a follower of them who through faith and patience inherit the promises."
On the Sabbath morning after our return to Fairmount, the Rev. Mr. Ingleby preached from Acts xxi. 16, "An old disciple." We were much pleased with his sermon, particularly with the following passage: "When we see an old disciple moving amidst the activities and amenities of life, we see a living monument of the faithfulness and loving-kindness of God; and when we follow him to his grave, though we may sorrow over his departure from amongst us, yet our sorrow is not to be without hope; he still lives, and lives in a new form, amidst new scenes of beauty and of grandeur, and with new associates; he is with Christ, assimilated to his likeness, beholding his glory, and enjoying sweetest intercourse with him. His gain by his death, should reconcile us to our loss."
"The loss of my dear sister," said Mrs. Stevens, "is the most afflictive trial I have ever been called to endure. Memory carries me back to the days of childhood, to the riper years of age, and to the associations with which my dear departed sister is inseparably entwined. But the pleasing charm soon vanishes, for she is gone."
"But, my dear," replied Mr. Stevens, "though this affliction be grievous, yet you might have been visited by one much more severe."