even younger, than themselves had yielded and gone.

For long, happy years they had kept up an establishment of an unusually
hospitable order for even a cordial church and a free, social age. They had
been more able, more willing, more zealous, and had more "faculty" for it.
But old age came on then earlier than now. The "threescore years" of which
they had so long sung had already gone by. Their younger sons were away
in the itinerant ministry. The old farm was too broad for their age and
infirmities, and they found the order given to Daniel, "Go thou thy way:
... for thou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot at the end of the days" (Dan.
xii, 13), appropriate to their condition, and allowed an elder son to
remove them to town, under his care, and near church. In this retirement
they enjoyed choice church privileges. Several of their old-time friends
had collected in and near the place, among whom were a few of their old
Massachusetts classmates and, above all, the aged and excellent local
preacher[1] who was praying for Miss Elizabeth Ward in Pittsfield when she
was converted, and who had for so many years lived near the family and had
preached in their house nearly or quite as much as all other ministers. He
and his venerable companion had retired there, too, with one of their sons.

[Footnote 1: Rev. Thomas Hubbard.]

But besides these retired neighbors, their retreat being but five miles
from their old farm and whilom cottage chapel, several of the village
residents had long been camp meeting and quarterly meeting associates.
So, with a dutiful son and near-by church, this superannuated couple,
surrounded by congenial society, surrendered their beloved public life and
sought an evening of rest, in which to ripen for heaven.

Hardly could aged people be happier or more quiet and free from worldly