My Father's House.

IN my younger days, while living with

my father in the State of New York, he

purchased a piece of land on which he built

a house. It was very nice for a newly-settled

country. It was built of cucumber.

Some of you may wonder what I can mean

by a cucumber house. Well, I will tell

you. In the West there are a good many

trees by that name. Father's house was

built of very large cucumber trees. The

bark was peeled from the outside, and the

inside hewed smooth, which left a shade of

blue and yellow.

Now it fell to my lot to carry the dinner

to father, as I was his only child except the

baby. Now father had marked trees all

along through the woods leading to the

new house; if he had not, I might have

got lost and known not whither I had gone.

But you may be sure it was no unpleasant

task to take my pail or basket at the appointed

hour and start on my errand; and

keeping my eyes on the marked trees, I

soon came in sight of my father's house.

Now children, I would have you learn a

lesson from the above. We are all traveling

through a wilderness; but our Father

has way-marks all along, so if we heed them,

we need not get lost. We, also, have way-marks

by which we may know when our

journey is almost ended. We have passed

nearly all, and soon, if we follow as directed,

we will be in sight of our Father's

house. But oh! How different from the

one I have been describing. The inmates

of that house are sleeping in the silent tomb.

The house, too, is not there; but the home

to which we are going stands secure.

Death cannot rob us of our loved ones

there. No gushing tears nor farewell partings.

No sorrow, sighing, nor any pain, in

that bright home. And oh, how beautiful!

The mansions are gold; the streets, too, are

paved with the same. The gates are of

pearl. And then the tree of life; the crystal

crystal river that courses its way in gentle

 murmurs through that delightful region. There,

too, are the fadeless flowers in short, everything

which can please the eye or charm

the ear. But 'tis in vain to attempt to describe

in full the glories of the place. Dear

children, will you try to be there?

SUSAN Elmer.