es, they are
always attended with expense; and when pictures are to be removed from
one place to another, the owner is subjected to much trouble and
annoyance. Then, the camera also does not give us the colors of the
different objects which are before it. That is the reason why, in the
beginning, I spoke of these millionaires purchasing such costly
paintings, because in the paintings different colors are represented.

Now, in the hundreds of pictures which are constantly being taken by
your eyes, there are no delays, no expenses, no inconvenience when the
pictures have once been taken. Different shades and colors are all
clearly represented. And even though you were to stand on a high
mountain, where you could look off over one or two hundred square miles
of beautiful landscape, all that beautiful scenery would be pictured on
the retina of your eye; and the picture, complete and perfect, would not
be larger than one-half inch square. What would real wealthy people be
willing to give for a perfect picture only one-half inch square, in
which the artist had clearly defined every field and tree, the rivers,
houses, roads, railways and all the beautiful landscape contained in a
vast area of many square miles?

Our eyes are wonderful cameras, which God has given us so that we can be
constantly taking these beautiful pictures as we pass through life, and
look at them not only for the instant, but that we may treasure the
pictures up in our memories and make them the rich treasures and joyous
heritage of coming years.

The older we grow, the more we appreciate these memory pictures of the
past--memories of our childhood days, beautiful landscapes, foreign
travel, lovely sunsets, the glorious sunrise, green fields and orchards
of golden fruit. As you grow old, I suppose the richest treasures in
your picture gallery of the past will be the memories of your childhood
home, of mother and father, brother and sister. Possibly when you have
grown old, you will remember how one day your heart was almost broken,
when for the first time you were leaving home; how mother's eyes filled
with tears when she kissed you good-bye, and, following you to the gate,
how she stood and waved her handkerchief, while home faded from your
view as you rounded the turn in the road and realized for the first time
that you were launching out into real life for long years of struggle.

Just as the hearts of the parents go out in great tenderness toward
t