IN THE FRONT YARD. 13 



was the death of the righteous. The gates were opened 

 and heavenly escorts bore him home. 



There a mother passed away. I stood by her side 

 and saw and heard it all. Her eyes were closed to 

 earthly things and then there passed by her . on the 

 shores of light the processions of glory. I cannot for- 

 get the rapture and the gladness and the outreaching 

 and the last words, "Oh, beautiful, beautiful Jesus!'' 

 Should that holy place be desecrated by those who 

 neither know nor care for any of those precious memo- 

 ries ? 



In that room as a child you lay sick for weeks. At 

 the foot of your bed pictures were changed every day 

 to give your tired soul something new to think of. 

 Your mates came in to cheer you. You have a dim 

 remembrance of the long vigils of father and mother 

 and the good doctors wdio could not let you die. 



What gatherings were in that parlor. Jane and 

 Sarah and Emma were married there. You remem- 

 ber where they stood and how they looked. 



There is the dining room where the wedding and 

 Thanksgiving feasts were spread. What happy gath- 

 erings of friends and relatives. What delightful 

 memories linger there. Oh, don't sell the home ! 



In our great West there is hardly a farm but what 

 can be beautified and made homelike. You can build 

 bulwarks of noble trees to shut out the fierce blasts of 

 winter. Evergreens and deciduous trees are waiting 

 to come and defend you. 



The choicest shrubs and flowers with continuous 



