the anniversary marked by so many kindly memorials.
For my part I am delighted to find a few flowers on the mile-stones as I pass along.
No matter how simple they are; a buttercup is as good as a japonica; somebody placed it there who remembered I was going by, and that is sufficient.
What a blessing it was for that dear good man, S. J. May
, to pass away in the full possession of his faculties, and surrounded by such an atmosphere of love and blessing.
, writing to me the other day, says: “How many sweet and precious memories I have of my intercourse with him!
Where is he now?
What is he doing and thinking?
we beat in vain against the doors of that secret of God!
But I am so certain of God's infinite goodness and love, that I think I can trust myself, and all I hold dear, to his love and care.”