preaching, whether on a week day or Sunday, stirred up the people. And
as they were scattered in residence, and traveling was slow, every
comfortable, hospitable Methodist residence became not only a free stopping
place, but a house of entertainment, where both soul and body found
refreshment, and the one just as free and cordial as the other. The guest
did not embarrass the host or hostess, for nothing but plain fare was
expected; and as to spiritual refreshment, he left a blessing behind him,
and with rekindled joy went on his way rejoicing. So also it was when his
turn came to entertain.

The homes of the early Methodists, especially in the country and in the
rural villages, were much more permanent than in this day--not rented,
but mostly owned by their occupants--and every year seemed to add to the
sacredness of these hospitable old abodes. The trees, the watering
trough, the well sweep, the plain old buildings, the very ground, seemed
consecrated to God and his cause.

But the kind host and hostess "have finished their course" and been called
up higher. The honored old place is honorable no longer. The tenants or new
owners, or, worse still, ungodly children, have desecrated everything. The
old-time guests pass it with a sigh. The hill, the brook are there, but the
aged horse looks in vain for the welcome open gate and watering place, and,
drooping his head, walks slowly by in sadness. Ministers and church people
tread that yard no more. The very ground seems backslidden. Sabbaths have
fled. Prayers and praises are no longer echoed. That light is put out, and
"how great is that darkness!"

The time came for Joshua and Elizabeth to yield to infirmity, and retire
from active life. The hard work of the new country told seriously upon even
strong constitutions. Some of the members of their society older, and some