se literally had to be his castle.

To me it was interesting as the dwelling of a conqueror, as one who
had not wrestled with flesh and blood merely, but with principalities
and powers, and the rulers of the darkness of this world, and who had
overcome, as his great Master did before him, by faith, and prayer,
and labor.

We were received with much cordiality by the widow of Clarkson, now in
her eighty-fourth year. She has been a woman of great energy and
vigor, and an efficient co-laborer in his plans of benevolence.

She is now quite feeble. I was placed under the care of a respectable
female servant, who forthwith installed me in a large chamber
overlooking the court-yard, which had been Clarkson's own room; the
room where for years, many of his most important labors had been
conducted, and from whence his soul had ascended to the reward of the
just.

The servant who attended me seemed to be quite a superior woman; like
many of the servants in respectable English families. She had grown up
in the family, and was identified with it; its ruling aims and
purposes had become hers. She had been the personal attendant of
Clarkson, and his nurse during his last sickness; she had evidently
understood, and been interested in his plans, and the veneration with
which she therefore spoke of him, had the sanction of intelligent
appreciation.

A daughter of Clarkson, who was married to a neighboring clergyman,
with her husband, was also present on this day.

After dinner we rode out to see the old church, in hose enclosure the
remains of Clarkson repose. It was just such a still, quiet, mossy old
church, as you have read of in story-books, with the grave-yard spread
all around it, like a thoughtful mother, who watches the resting of
her children.

The grass in the yard was long and green, and the daisy, which in
other places lies like a little button on the ground, here had a
richer fringe of crimson, and a stalk about six inches high. It is, I
well know, the vital influence from the slumbering dust beneath, which
gives the richness to this grass and these flowers; but let not that
be a painful thought; let it rather cheer us, that beauty should
spring from ashes, and life smile brighter from the near presence of
death. The grave of Clarkson was near the church, enclosed by a
railing and marked by a simple white marble slab; it was carefully
tended and planted with flowers. In the church was an old book of
records, and a