Jerry stayed on the farm; Theodore became a civil engineer; Nate a minister; Johnnie went into business.  Theodore used to say:  “Mother, as I travel about, all the stones and the flowers make me think of you.  I catch sight of some rock, and stop to laugh over those blessed times.”  Nate said:  “Mother, when I am reading a psalm in the pulpit, there always comes to me a picture of those old evenings, with you in the rocking-chair by the firelight, and I hear all your voices again.”  Johnnie wrote:  “Mother, I think that every thing I have has come to me through you.”  When Jerry, who remained faithful always, had listened to his brothers, he put his arm about her, saying tenderly:  “There will never be any body like mother to me.”

She died at sixty-five, very suddenly.  Only a few hours before, she had exclaimed, as her children all came home together:  “There never were such good boys as mine.  You have repaid me a thousand-fold.  God grant you all happy homes.”  They bore her coffin to the grave themselves.  They would not let any other person touch it.  In the evening they gathered around the old hearth-stone in the sitting-room, and drew their chairs together.  No one spoke until Nate said, “Boys, let us pray;” and then, all kneeling around her vacant chair, he prayed that the mantle of their mother might fall upon them.  They could ask nothing beyond that.

    No Longer My Own.

    In serving the Master I love,
      In doing his bidding each day,
    The sweetness of bondage I prove,
      And sing, as I go on my way—­
    I never such freedom have known
    As now I’m no longer my own.

    His burden is easy to bear,
      My own was a mountain of lead;
    His yoke it is gladness to wear,
      My own with my life-blood was red—­
    I never such gladness have known
    As now I’m no longer my own.

    Discharging the duties I owe
      To household and neighbor of mine,
    The beauty of bondage I know,
      And count it as beauty divine—­
    I never such beauty have known
    As now I’m no longer my own.

    And everywhere, Master so dear,
      A dutiful bondman of thine,
    All things my possession appear,
      Their glory so verily mine—­
    I never such glory have known
    As now I’m no longer my own.

    My heart overflows with brave cheer;
      For where is the bondage to dread,
    As long as the Master is dear,
      And love that is selfish is dead!—­
    I never such safety have known
    As now I’m no longer my own.

* * * * *

XXX.

THE CARE OF THE BODY.

WHAT DR. SARGENT, OF THE HARVARD GYMNASIUM, SAYS ABOUT IT—­POINTS FOR PARENTS, TEACHERS, AND PUPILS.