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voice, and are probably unconsciously imitating some one's voice that you have admired. The orotund is not your natural voice. By its use you have brought an undue stress on the larynx and vocal chords, and they have yielded to over tension. Your remedy is to adopt, arbitrarily, a more tenor key of voice. Raise it at least two tones in conversation, reading and preaching." I thanked her, but replied that I thought her remedy altogether impracticable; that I could not take up at once another tone of voice. But she insisted that it could be done; that they would be with us for two weeks, would watch me closely and help to enforce the cure. I tried it, sang in most sessions of the convention, and preached the next Sabbath. My throat toughened and I have never from that day lost a religious or other service from diseased throat.

The hint may be worth the attention of other public speakers and singers.

Mr. Morgan adds: "I have long been accustomed to think of Mr. Bliss and speak of him as my ideal Christian gentleman-the most perfect specimen I had ever met."

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CHAPTER XXVII.

THE LAST OF EARTH-MEMORIAL SERVICES AT ROME, PENNSYLVANIA-ELOQUENT ADDRESS BY REV. DR. GOODWIN, OF CHICAGO.

THE

HE village of Rome, Pennsylvania, contains a population of about three hundred, and is located in the Wysocken Valley, surrounded by high hills, and is about ten miles from Towanda, Pennsylvania. The funeral services in memory of Mr. and Mrs. Bliss were held on Sunday, January 7, in the Presbyterian Church, of which both of them had been members during their residence in Rome. Before the hour of service (11 o'clock), sleighs, from all directions, coming over the hills loaded with the families of friends and relatives from a distance, were arriving at the church. By eleven o'clock it was crowded in every part. The following relatives of the deceased were present: Lydia Bliss, his mother; Mrs. M. E. Wilson and husband, and Mrs. Phebe Jennings and husband, sisters and brothers; Wm. H. Jennings, of Chicago, nephew of Mr. Bliss; Mrs. Andrus, sister of Lydia Bliss, with her son and daughter, the latter residing in Elmira, N. Y; the wife of Mr. McEwen, who was present; Mrs. Betsy Allen, grandmother of Mrs. Bliss; O. F. Young and wife, father and mother of Mrs. Bliss; A. P. Young and wife, O. W. Young and wife, George R. Young, Mrs. C. C. Barnes and husband, Mrs. J. L. Ellsworth, and Melita Young, brothers and sisters of Mrs. Bliss; Nathan and Thomas Young, Mrs. Daniel Pitcher, and Mrs. Dunham, uncles and aunts of Mrs. Bliss, with their families; also several cousins and more distant relatives were present. A remarkable fact in connection with this large circle is that they are all Christians.

The services were opened by the reading of the hymn: "God is the refuge of His saints," by Rev. Mr. Keatley, pastor of the Methodist church. Mr. and Mrs. McGranahan, life-long friends of Mr. and Mrs. Bliss, and well known in musical circles, led the singing of the congregation.

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The following scriptures were read by the pastor of the Baptist Church John xvii, 18-24: Acts i, 7-11: Acts vii, 55-60 1 Cor. xv, 12-23 and 50-58: 1 Thess. iv, 13-18.

Prayer was then offered by Rev. G. W. Chandler, pastor of the Methodist Church of Towanda.

The hymn, "Rock of Ages" (set to music composed by Mrs. Bliss), was sung by the choir.

A report of a meeting held in Chicago, on the Sunday after the news of the disaster, was then read by Major Whittle, who made the following remarks, explaining the circumstances of the departure of Mr. and Mrs. Bliss from home and of his being on the illfated train:

We have to-day no remains of these beloved friends; none will ever be found; and I am asked to make a brief statement of the circumstances of their death. Mr. and Mrs. Bliss left their home the 30th of December and went to Towanda and Waverly. The last heard of them was a letter to the father on Thursday that they had bought tickets by way of the Lake Shore road, and expected to be in Chicago Friday night. The letter closed with the sentence, "God bless you all for time and eternity "-probably the last letter he ever wrote.

Mr. Bliss was expected in Chicago to help carry on the work of Messrs. Moody and Sankey. Saturday morning in Chicago, when I read of the terrible accident at Ashtabula, my heart was filled with fear, and I sent a telegram to Towanda to know whether they were there. It was some time before an answer could come. His friends supposed he was twelve or eighteen hours in advance of this train. During the day, while waiting, we went to the railroad office and tried to get dispatches from the train, but could only learn that it was a terrible accident, and that Mr. Bliss was not on the later train that left on Saturday afternoon. My alarm increased, but I could not take it home to my heart. But Saturday afternoon, a telegram was received from Mr Burchell, who knew Mr. Bliss intimately, saying that "Bliss, wife and children are among the dead." And we started immediately for Ashtabula. We arrived there on Sunday morning, and for three days I was there while the wreck was removed, and every search was made that could be to find some relic of these dear friends. The few bodies recovered were unrecognizable except in two or three instances. We thought then that the dear little children were there. And when the dispatch came from Towanda that the children were safe at home, I fell on my knees and thanked God that the children had been spared.

I came away Tuesday night. Everything had been removed. A stream of water five feet deep in the deepest and two feet in the shallowest part flowed by. The bottom was dragged. Eleven cars had fallen, one on top of another. The cars were broken in fragments. The lamps set fire to the oil. It was a fierce wind and a terribly stormy night. The woodwork, everything was

burned, the iron melted and not a fragment of anything was left that we could find.

And so we are left here to-day with nothing of these friends but the thought of them in glory.

Mr. Burchell says he passed through the passenger coaches, and that at the last station before the accident the snow was heavy and I got out," he says, "to get some sandwiches, and found the two ordinary cars crowded and the smoking-car full. The next, a parlor car, was one third full. Mr. Bliss and family were there. I was in the next car. Behind that were three sleeping-cars." He gave the statement: "I believe Mr. Bliss got out through a window, expecting to get his wife and children through, but the car was blocked up and escape was impossible. I believe Bliss was burned to death trying to save his wife and children." This, he says, is his conjecture.

There is a story at Ashtabula of Mr. Bliss escaping and going back, saying his wife and child were in the wreck, and he would rather die with them than escape without them. I cannot find that this is true. That man had a wife and child there, and we know that Mr. Bliss had no child there. I suppose that some one seeing the man thought it was Mr. Bliss, and that gave rise to the supposition that the children were on board. We showed Mr. Bliss' picture to the passengers who were saved. We found one lady who recognized it.

As to how he came to be on the train: He left Waverly on the train which ought to have been at Buffalo at midnight on Thursday; but it met with an accident twenty miles from Waverly, was delayed, and did not arrive in Buffalo until five o'clock-too late to make connection. He left that train at Hornellsville, probably thinking that as they could not connect, they would wait over and get a night's rest. I find his name at the Osborne House, Thursday night. He took the train in Buffalo Friday noon, and so was brought to Ashtabula to be in the accident. His trunk went on safely.

This is all we know of the story. We are here, a circle of friends and relatives, and I tell you the story as we know it.

A favorite hymn of Mr. Bliss "I know not the hour when my Lord will come," was then very beautifully sung by the choir. Mr. McGranahan, the composer of the music of this hymn, the words of which were written by Mr. Bliss, was so overcome as to be unable to conclude the singing.

An address was then given by the pastor of the First Congregational Church in Chicago, of which Mr. and Mrs. Bliss were members at the time of their death, Rev. E. P. Goodwin, D. D. For nearly three years Mr. Bliss had been chorister and Sunday School Superintendent at the church of which Mr. Goodwin is pastor. The following is Dr. Goodwin's address :

My friends, I feel that I have come here as a kind of representative of that great family that to-day all through the land bows under the grief that has

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gathered us, and mingles its tears and prayers with those of this dear circle. Indeed, I seem almost to be a member of this household, so personal to me is this affliction. This dear brother had been for years one with whom I had wrought for the Master in most delightful accord. Our aims were one, our sympathies in unison, our friendship hearty, and one of these precious children bears, as you may know, my name. I come hence not to speak in any formal way, but out of the depths of my heart to utter a few words of loving tribute to one whose character and work I delight to honor.

Let me connect what I have to say with two passages of Scripture, viz., Psalm cxvi, 15: "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints." Rev. xiv, 13: "And I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth; yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labors; and their works do follow them."

Dear friends, God makes no mistakes. He has made none in allowing the calamity which has gathered us here in sorrow, let us make none in reasoning about it. The significance of God's Providences does not lie in what we think but in what God says about them. In his testimony we can alone find sure anchorage for faith, sure solace for bereavement. Our reasonings, apart from His Word, instead of scattering the darkness, often deepen it; instead of lifting our burdens from our hearts, often magnify them and torture us with keener sense of helplessness. We can as easily reason the darkness out of a room, as the darkness out of God's dealings. We get rid of the gloom when we stop debate, open the shutters, and let the light shine in, And we get rid of the gloom that enwraps us in these trial times of faith, when we stop arguing and throw open the windows of our souls to the light of God's Word.

The first thought, therefore, which I suggest in connection with this Providence is, that God's children are not to look upon death with dread, but to anticipate it with lightness of heart, and, by whatsoever form it may come, welcome and rejoice in it. If the death of God's saints is precious in His sight, and the day in which it comes better than the day of birth, surely His children need not be dismayed; much less need they go through life, as many do, oppressed and tortured by gloomy apprehensions of the last hour. Where God's face beams, our faces ought to brighten. Where God pronounces His benediction, and all the blessed of the Upper Presence join in special jubilee, we may at least dismiss our fears, and even though it be through tears, lift up our song.

I remember well when I could not say this. Death was the one depressing, despairful word of all Scripture. No sound ever sent such chills through my blood as the mournful knell that was wont to be rung out from the village church whenever there was a death in the community. A funeral was of all places the place of terror. The somber crape fluttering so forbiddingly at the door, the closed blinds, the hushed voices, the grave faces, the robes of the mourners, the tears and sobs, the sepulchral utterances of the minister, the mournful hymns-all this went to make a burial service distasteful and gloomy in the extreme. From a child I never attended one, even of a relative, if it could be avoided. This feeling was dominant for years. Indeed, I was