with aching heart, and throbbing brow, they set' 

 their teeth, and choke back the coming tear, and 

 press on in the battle, doing their utmost to fill 

 the gap and finish their work, and die at their 

 post, as he did. 



I look at his yonng wife who, in the hottest 

 fire and at the heaviest blows, still whispers, " As 

 God will, and in the hottest fire holds still." 1 

 look at his orphan boy (over whom he had the 

 most perfect control), left in this wicked world. 

 I look at his bereaved parents, to whom, in their 

 old age. he was such a comfort. I look at the 

 relatives, and those that depended upon him for 

 counsel and advice My soul cries out, O, God, 

 why is this? How the work of God needed him, 

 how his district needed him, how his wife, boy 

 and parents needed him, and last, but not least, 

 how 1 needed him. He was my bosom friend. I 

 withheld nothing'from him. I can see but one rea- 

 son, and even from my finite point of view, I can 

 see why. and I believe I express the sentiment of 

 the Church, his wife, parents and all, when I say 

 that, through my blinding tears, and while my 

 heart-strings break, Lord, Thou hast done it, and 

 our sonls say amen, and we would not wish it 

 different. 



He has slain more in his death, than in his life. 

 The months of his highest critics are closed. 

 Smiie who would discourage in his life are loud- 



