1 2 THE BLESSED BEES. 



morning. If we would see him alive we must reach 

 home soon. Our good farm-horses seemed to par- 

 take of our eagerness. The day was growing cool, 

 and, for animals not used to the road, they made 

 good time. In an hour and a quarter we reached 

 the home clearing. Our log-house was a quarter of 

 a mile further, at the opposite side of the " forty." 

 We could see the doctor's gig, and the horse of a 

 neighbor, at the gate. In a moment our horses 

 were there also. As we went up the path the door 

 opened, and my mother stood in the door-way. A 

 glance at her face told me all. My father was 

 dead. 



I will not relate the incidents of the next few 

 days. Into every home Death has come. All 

 know the deep experiences of sorrow. All have 

 felt reluctance to speak of those sacred experiences 

 to others. It is enough to say that kind neighbors 

 from all about us gave friendly help. Not a few 

 told of the good words and deeds of him who was 

 gone away. September gave one of its brightest 

 days for the funeral. After the " earth to earth " 

 had been said, we returned to our home, — a home 

 full of sorrow, indeed, but not desolate, for we had 

 glad memories of his pure life and his loving heart. 

 There were, too, very strong ties of affection be- 

 tween us all, that gave us now strength and cour- 

 age. Each helped the other to bear the burden. 



