XVI MEMORIAL OF M. QUINBY. 
up in heaven. Whenever he obtained any new idea that 
would benefit others as well as himself, it was forthwith 
given to all who would receive. 
His life was, in every sense, a life of usefulness, and not 
wholly devoted to the interests of bee-culture, for he 
took a living interest in anything that he thought would 
benefit society; as an advocate and helper in the tem- 
perance work he did no mean service. 
He possessed true kindness of heart, and believed it to 
be a religious duty to make all with whom he came in con- 
tact better and happier, and he regarded that life a failure 
that did not leave the world the better for having been 
lived. The following little incident tells its own story : 
On the day of his funeral, some bare-footed boys had fol- 
lowed down the street to the front of the house, where 
one of them turned up a sorrowful-looking face, and re- 
marked to the officiating clergyman: ‘‘I am sorry Mr. 
Quinby is dead ;” on being asked why, he replied, ‘‘ He 
gave us apples, and pears, and sometimes grapes.” They 
then asked if they might see him. : 
Generally, sickness, as a warning for preparation, pre- 
cedes dissolution, but in the case of our friend, at the 
small hours of night, when reposing in quiet slumber, 
the message came. His wife noticed an unusual breath- 
ing—she immediately called the family, but before they 
reached the bed, he had answered the summons. A noble 
spirit had fled back to its Maker, a loving family circle 
was broken, and the earthly life of the Pioneer Bee-keeper 
closed. 
Thus, at the age of sixty-five, ended the life-work of 
our counsellor, friend, and public benefactor. How fit- 
ting that a life so pure should have so peaceful an end- 
ing. He passed from earth— 
“ Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
About him, and lics down to pleasant dreams.” 
