youngster kept thinking how good it was that Mamma
could have such a nice rest--the first rest she had ever known--and just
lie there in the beautiful room and hold her flowers!

* * * * *

Fifty years pass. These children, grown to manhood, are again together.
One, his work done, is at rest. Standing by his bier, the other voices
these deathless words:

"Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren peaks of two
eternities. We strive in vain to look beyond the heights. We call aloud,
and the only answer is the echo of our wailing cry. From the voiceless
lips of the unreplying dead there comes no word; but in the night of
death, hope sees a star and listening love can hear the rustle of a
wing.

"He who sleeps here, when dying, mistaking the approach of death for the
return of health, whispered with his latest breath, 'I am better now.'
Let us believe, in spite of doubts and dogmas, of fears and tears, that
these dear words are true of all the countless dead."

* * * * *

The mother of Ingersoll was a Livingston--a Livingston of right-royal
lineage, tracing to that famous family of Revolutionary fame. To a great
degree she gave up family and social position to become the wife of the
Reverend John Ingersoll, of Vermont, a theolog from the Academy at
Bennington.

He was young and full of zeal--he was called "a powerful preacher." That
he was a man of much strength of intellect, there is ample proof. He did
his duty, said his say, called sinners to repentance, and told what
would be their fate if they did not accept salvation. His desire was to
do good, and therefore he warned men against the wrath to come. He was
an educated man, and all of his beliefs and most of his ideas were
gathered and gleaned from his college professors and Jonathan Edwards.

He loved his beautiful wife and she loved him. She loved him just as all
good women love, with a complete abandon--with heart, mind and strength.
He at first had periods of such abandon, too, but his conscience soon
made him recoil from an affection of which God might be jealous. He
believed that a man should forsake father, mother, wife and child in
order to follow duty--and duty to him was the thing we didn't want to
do. That which was pleasant was not wholly good. And so he strove to
thrust from him all earthly affections, and to love God alone. Not only
this, but he strove to make others love God. H