believe they call it) and
call to mind the log-hut in the depth of the forest, which was, my first
home on this farm, I am lost in wonder at the changes which have taken
place, and I cannot help repeating the words, 'old things have passed
away, behold all things have become new.' Your grandfather lived to a
good old age, and, when infirmities obliged him to resign the care of
the farm to our boy Nathan he enjoyed the fruits of his former industry
in the comforts of a home of plenty, and the care and attention of our
dutiful children. As for me I do not now look forward to a single day.
I have already outlived the period of natural life and feel willing to
depart whenever an all-wise Providence sees fit to remove me; but I
would not be impatient and would say from my very heart: 'All the days
of my appointed time will I wait till my change comes.' And now, Walter,
read to me, for it is past my usual time of retiring to rest." As I
closed the book (after reading for half an hour) Grandma said, "I have
read myself, and heard others read the Bible these many years, yet each
time I listen to a chapter, I discover in it some new beauty which I had
never noticed before. Truly the Bible is a wonderful book; it teaches us
both how to live and how to die."

CHAPTER XX.

"I wish you would go over to the post office, Nathan," said my aunt one
evening in the latter part of winter; "none of us have been over to
Fulton this week, and who knows but there may be letters," "Who knows
indeed!" replied Uncle Nathan, "I am as you say a careless mortal, and
never inquired for letters the last time I was over, so I'll just
harness up and drive over this clear moonlight evening." He returned in
an hour's time and soon after entering the house, handed a letter to my
aunt saying, "read that and see what you think of it." Seating herself
and adjusting her glasses, she unfolded the letter, and perused it
carefully; but any one acquainted with her would at once have been
aware, by the expression of her countenance, as she read, that the
communication, whatever it was, was not of an agreeable nature. The
letter was from a cousin residing in the State of Massachusetts whom
they had not seen for many years, but who used in his youthful days to
be a frequent visitor. Indeed it would seem, by all accounts, that he
was fonder of visiting than of any regular employment. This cousin,
Silas Stinson, had grown up to manhood with no fixed purpose in