ide the long
road to eternity, and death, to him, was not a leaving home, but rather
a starting for home.

When he gathered his loved ones about his bedside on the day following
the arrival of Harry and his family, to say goodbye, it was not the
goodbye of one who was entering upon a dark and perilous journey to
parts unknown, but that of one sustained by an unfailing faith that he
was entering upon an abode in the eternal mansion, where he should wait
but a brief period for the coming of those he loved.

Just as the purple shadows of the October evening were lengthening, the
end was drawing near. The hoary patriarch called his children all by
name--Harry and Eva, Joe and his wife, Albert and his wife, Nancy and
her husband, Hannah and her husband, and Hattie, the unmarried daughter
yet at home--and they all gathered in the room where death was to be a
guest. The grandchildren, happy and care-free, unconscious of what life
is and of what death means, were called in from their places of play,
and told that Grandpa was leaving them. The little tots, bless them,
came in and stood around the old-fashioned bedstead all unmindful of the
significance of a meeting of time and eternity. They gathered around and
gazed into the old saint's face, where death and life alternately wrote
their names. As they passed around one by one by the head of the bed,
the old man laid his withered hands upon each little head and pronounced
his blessing. Then he began to talk.

"If this is death," he said, "it is a blessed thing to die. The way has
been long and the road rough, at times, but now it is all over. I have
suffered a few things for Jesus' sake, but how unworthy I have been of
all the love He has shown me. I have only one dying request to make of
my loved ones, and it is the same as my living request has been, that
you all live for God and meet me over there. Oh, I am so happy. How I
love Jesus, and on His bosom I shall rest forever." His voice grew
fainter. "Just one more step and I am there." The loved ones hovered
nearer. A soft white hand was laid upon his brow. It was the hand of
Hattie. Subdued sobs were heard about the room. "Don't weep, dear
children," he faintly murmured: "I am just passing into--I see the
darling's hands--no pale cheeks--how sweet--about my neck--this
Rose--Rose's Savior Papa's Savior too. Let's go--." He was dead--and
blessed are the dead which die in the Lord.

THE END.

End of Project Gute