sermon.

"He could ride all along the roads, and hear his missionaries
preaching for him wherever a clock struck, or a dial on the gable of a
great stone barn propelled its shadows. His tracts were in every
farmer's vest pocket. Whatever he made he consecrated with a paragraph
of counsel.

"The old sign faded out. The clock-maker's sight grew dim, but his
apprehensions of the everlasting love and occupation were clearer and
more confident to the end.

"One day they found him in the graveyard of the London Tract, by the
side of the spot where his wife was interred, worn and asleep at the
ripe age of three-score.

"The mill teams and the farm wagons stopped in the road, and the
country folks gathered round in silence.

"'Run down at last,' said one. 'If there are heavenly harps and bells,
he hears them now!'"

And there they hear the ticking, the preaching of this faithful life,
under the old stone, sending up its pleasant message yet. The stone is
perishing like a broken crystal, but the memory of the diligent and
useful man beneath it rings amongst the holy harmonies of the country.
Though dead, he yet speaketh!