he rested, he replied: "Very nicely—only I had to lie quiet, 'For the bed is shorter than that a man can stretch himself on it.""
One Sabbath morning, when father was preparing for church, he opened the study door and said to one of us, "Will you please ask your mother if she can let me have quarter of a dozen clean shirts?" "Quarter of a dozen!" repeated mother, in astonishment; "What can you do with so many, my dear?" Then she remembered that he had only asked for three, the number he always wore in winter. With a grave smile he left us to enjoy our laugh.
Many a sweet talk have we enjoyed with him while riding over the Penymynydd hills. He often said it must have been these glorious hills that first attracted the Welsh. He loved to compare the landscapes with those of Wales. He particularly enjoyed the twilight hour-though it seemed, to him, very short here. He often referred to the time when, a lad, he occasionally watched in the mines of which his father was then steward, and returning home at two in the morning, he could see two twilights-that of evening just fading in the west, while the early dawn was breaking in the east. The impression remained, a bright spot on memory's page, to cheer his busy life.
He would come at any time from his study to look with us at the bow of promise or a golden sunset. He loved and appreciated the beautiful in nature, so grand and so perfect, for he had well learned the precious lesson of looking "from nature up to nature's God." One summer evening, having just returned from church, the younger members of our home circle
