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Ewell, Martha Lewis Beckwith, 1841-1902

"The Harvest of Years"

Ballou, call me your child, for you have to-day baptized me. I am a
Universalist, I know, for I love your doctrine."
"Bless you, my daughter," was his reply. "God finds His own through
time. May your young heart be made strong, and your life blossom with
roses that have no thorns."
That was great honor to me; the touch of that hand on my head; those
words addressed to me. We all went home, having had a feast of good
things, and our blessed Clara, who had been the means of leading us to
the light, sat all the way as in a dream, only saying:
"I have long known it was true."
Ben added his testimony to the rest.
"When I die," said he, "I want that man to preach my funeral sermon, if
he will, and if he can't, I don't want any at all."
Dear boy, he had a loving heart; he was born later than either Hal or
me, and had an earlier spiritual development. Is it not always so?
I could not enjoy my new thoughts in silence as Clara did, and gave vent
to my theme in the strongest terms. Hal did not ridicule me at all: he
was too sensible for this, but he smiled at my strong expressions, and
said:
"You will preach yourself if you keep on, and I believe you would make
converts. Your eyes are as large again as they were this morning."
"Then it must improve my looks, Hal," I said. "If so, I am glad, for in
that respect I have always stood in the background. My brother is an
artist, and must, of course, have the handsome face."
He laughed again, and added:
"He will never be ashamed of his sister, I think, and never say 'Emily
did it,' even if she turns preacher.


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