is lips,
"Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear
no evil, for Thou art with me, Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me."

"Listen," he said one day, "when I can't spaike to tell yo' haa I feel,
I'll lift my hand, and yo'll knaw all's weal." This was for their
sakes. He wanted to leave a token with his dear wife and children that
should antidote their sorrow when he was gone.

A friend came one day from a distant town to see him; he felt very sad
at finding him so near his end, and could not refrain from tears, but
when the old man saw him weep, he began to repeat as well as his feeble
voice would allow--

"Break off your tears, ye saints, and tell
How high your great Deliverer reigns;
See how He spoiled the hosts of hell,
And led the monster Death in chains."

And then he took the part of comforter: "Aye, my lad, what art ta
looking so sad abaat? Thaa mun't be cast daan, thaa mun come up aat o'
th' valley; bless th' Lord!" he ran on, "I'm on Pisgah, and my soul is
full of glory. I'm in soight o' th' promised land, hallelujah! I'll
sooin be at haam."

In this happy frame he continued to the last. As long as he could
speak at all, words of exultation and praise rose to his lips, and when
he could no longer articulate, he fell back upon the signal, and lifted
his hand, in token that all was well. Dear old Abe, he was come to the
end of his course, the shades of death were upon him, he was crossing
the narrow strip of neutral ground that divides the two worlds; friends
stood in the margin of the shadow-land, watching him feebly lift his
hand as he went over, till he could lift it no more, and when the
signal dropt mourners knew that Old Abe was safe through.

He died in the Lord in November 1871, and left a memory behind that
grows more fragrant as years go on. His dust lies buried in the
graveyard in front of Salem Chapel, where, five years later, the
remains of his devoted wife, Sally, were laid beside him. There let
their dust sleep until that day "when they that are in their graves
shall hear His voice, and come forth."

"Oh," said a good woman one day when talking over the subject of these
pages, "I should just like to have an odd look into heaven, to see what
Little Abe is about." What is he about? He is praising God in the
glorious temple above: "And one of the elders answered, saying unto me,
What are these arrayed in white robes? and whence came they? And