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December 4th: "To-day Bliss, and wife and I united in special prayer that God would guide as to our future movements. Moody has spoken about our going to England. We expect Brother Morgan of London here, this week, to suggest this to us. The pastors meet in Chicago, to-day, to consider inviting us there after Mr. Moody leaves, and calls are before us from various places. We know not what is best, but trust we are all willing to be led, and we ask the Master to plan for us and to keep us. We had rather go anywhere else than to Chicago, and shrink much from following Mr. Moody there. May God give us wisdom to know His will."

Mr. Bliss, from the very first, had an almost unaccountable aversion to the plan proposed of his returning from his Christmas visit to his children, to Chicago, and work there. He desired to remain in the East, working in New England, while Moody and Sankey were in Boston. The expression in his last letter before coming west is explained by this reluctance. The subject of conversation during these days at Peoria naturally turned much upon the proposed trip to England. Mrs. Bliss was disposed to leave her children in this country. She said, "They are under as good care with sister Clara as they could possibly be. They love her now as much as they do me, and I believe it would be better for them and better for us in the work, if they are left in Rome." In commenting upon this, the remark was made that if accident should occur and we were drowned, the children would be safe. Her reply was, "Well, I shouldn't think of that. If we ask the Lord to guide us, and it seems best for all to go, and we are all drowned, it is all right. It is the Lord's will, and it will be best. We should all go together." When Mr. Burchell's dispatch, stating that "Bliss, wife and children were among the dead," was shown me, these words of Mrs. Bliss came very vividly to my mind.

In Peoria Mr. Bliss held his children's meetings each afternoon, at the Methodist Church, and became more interested than ever in the work for the young, and earnestly expressed his determination to more and more labor in that direction. A number of very interesting conversions in his meetings gave him much pleasure. One dear little German boy, a manly little fellow of eight years old, interested Mr. and Mrs. Bliss very much. He was an intelligent boy, and had a business-like way of speaking of his having accepted Christ, that commended him specially to Mrs. Bliss, who was always

THANKSGIVING DAY.

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repelled by affectation in young or old, and was, perhaps unconsciously, a little unsympathetic toward children on this account. It was during a conversation suggested by her speaking of her confidence in this boy, that Mr. Bliss said, "You do not understand the child nature. You never had a childhood, but were always a mother child." Since their death the following letter was received from their little Peoria friend. It is given verbatim :

DEAR BROTHER WHITTLE:

PEORIA, Ill., January 27.

I saw a piece in the Standard of you and Mr. Bliss. I saw that you and the Rev. Mr. Morgan, of London, were getting up a book of the life of Mr. and Mrs. Bliss, and wanted to have letters from those who have been blessed or converted by his songs. I can say that I was converted when they was singing the second hymn, "Hallelujah, 'tis Done." In singing the chorus of it, I thought do I believe on the Son? and so, as you gave the first invitation for all that were not Christians and wanted to be prayed for to rise, and then asked how many wanted to settle it now to rise, I was among that lot that rose as there were forty or fifty, you said. I saw five or six that rose that were right behind me. I attended all of Mr. Bliss' children's meetings, as also I attended all of yours. It was Thanksgiving night, at the Centennial Hall, in which I was converted. I expect you know me. I am eight years old. I remain, as ever, your friend,

WILLIAM B. HERSCHBERGER.

It was a very sad day for me when I received the news of brother Bliss' death. As there was crying and sobbing when we heard it, as my brother kept asking what was the matter. I hope you will pray for our family and for me, as I will continue to pray for you.

This letter fully justifies Mrs. Bliss in her opinion of her little friend William.

Mr. Reynolds writes from Peoria, in connection with Mr. Bliss' labors, that over fifty scholars in his Sunday School testified that they attributed the influence leading to their decision for Christ to the special labors of Mr. Bliss. In the evening meetings for adults, God gave him also many souls in Peoria. One night he was the last one home, and as he came home and hung up his coat in the hall, he remarked, in his happy way, "My last inquiry meeting was at the gate. Three dear young men, all hungry for the Gospel, and two of them have taken Christ."

Our last visit together to the afflicted was made in Peoria. He

sang for one who was under peculiar bereavement, and who longed for release from life's burdens, his hymn, "Father, I'm Tired." The frail girl to whom he sang seemed much nearer that day to "crossing the tide" than the strong singer who so cheered her with his song; but she still lives, and may for many a day, to praise the grace that can sustain and bless in the deepest affliction, while he has gone.

Among the many precious meetings in Peoria that come thronging to the mind, none, as connected with these loved ones, is more clearly remembered than the Thanksgiving morning prayer-meeting, in Dr. Edwards' church. Dear Bliss was full of the spirit of praise, and, as always, when upon that theme, he lifted us all into sympathy with him. He sang the song of his own composing, called "Grandfather's Bible," prefacing it by remarking how much he had to praise God for in having had a godly ancestry; and very full of tender reminiscences to all were the old tunes woven in to tell the story of the Puritans' Bible. He loved to sing the old time tunes, and the hymns his father and mother taught him, and very sweetly he sang them that morning, causing the tears to flow from the eyes of many children "of parents passed into the skies."

Thanksgiving Day we spent with the kind friends who were entertaining us. After dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Bliss sang. He had written many very popular songs that he never sang after he went into Gospel work, and that I knew nothing of. One of these, called "Jolly Jonathan," I had heard of his singing at Northfield for Mr. Moody, and greatly to the latter's delight, and I wished to hear it. He had refused several times in Kalamazoo and Jackson, on our Saturday rest days, and upon this occasion I was the more importunate. Mrs. Bliss finally said, "Well, Mr. Bliss, you had better let the Major hear what it is; but, Major, Mr. Bliss is through making and singing that kind of songs, and he doesn't like to have people remember him as singing them." I appreciate now, as I did not then, how out of sympathy he had become, in the habitual tone of his mind, with all that was not connected with Christ during these last days.

JOLLY JONATHAN.

JOLLY JONATHAN.

Haow du yu du, my naburs? I'm glad tu see yu all,

Just make yerselves tu hum, I say; I'm tickled with your call,
I guess you'll find Columby a purty place tu stay;

I kalkelate you never see a land so fair and gay.
Ameriky, Ameriky, Ameriky, Hooraw!

Ameriky, Ameriky, Ameriky, Hooraw

Aw, beg you pawdon, mistah; a chawming land I see,
But, aw, acwas the watahs wide a lawdly land theah be-
A land we call Old Hingland, magnifithent and grand;
A higheh awdeh Bwiton, hath, a wich, a noble band.
Britannia, Britannia, Britannia, Huwaw!
Britannia, Britannia, Britannia, Huwaw!

Och, bother, shtop yer blarney, just let Ould Ireland shpake:

A blessid darlin' koonthry, too, she is, and no mishtake,

Sich gintlemanly pigs, oh, sich praties there are raised,

Wid niver once a shnake, ye mind, Saint Patrick's name be praised!
Ould Ireland, Ould Ireland, Ould Ireland, Hoorah!
Ould Ireland, Ould Ireland, Ould Ireland, Hoorah!

Nix komarouse der Deitchland, das is der land for me;
Mit shootsenfest, mit sangerbund und sauerkraut so free;
Yaw, yaw, das is der koontry, mein faderland so dear,
I love, oh, my! I feels so pad, I'll dake some lager bier.
Der Deitcherland, Der Deitcherland, Der Deitcherland, yaw, yaw!
Der Deitcherland, Der Deitcherland, Der Deitcherland, yaw, yaw!

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CHAPTER XI.

FORESHADOWINGS OF THE SEPARATION-MR. BLISS' LAST VISIT TO CHICAGO

-MERRY CHRISTMAS AT HOME-THE LAST EARTHLY LABORS-THE JOURNEY TO THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH-"HIS WORKS DO LIVE AFTER HIM"-"A VOICE FROM HEAVEN."

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HERE seems now, in looking back over our intercourse in Peoria, a foreshadowing of approaching separation. One day while taking a walk that was almost a daily one with Mr. Bliss and the writer, up the Bluff, we spoke that the time might be near at hand, when one of us would be walking alone, and thinking of the departed one in places where we had been together. He, always inclined toward "the hope," said: "Just as probable that Christ may come and we all go together. What a beautiful day this would be for Him to come." We had talked of the sudden death of our friend Samuel Moody, Mr. Moody's brother, and in connection with that event and the view we had of the Lord's return, our minds were often turned toward what now recurs as almost premonitory of what was to come. On the 14th of December, we held our last meeting. From 8.30 A. M. to 5 P. M., with intermission at noon, we held a Christian Convention. Mr. Bliss sang through the day, and spoke with his usual earnestness and emphasis upon the use of song in worship. In the evening, accompanied by Brother Morgan, who had spent the day with us, we went to Rouse's Hall. On the way, Mr. Bliss remarked: "Major, if you want us to sing 'Waiting and Watching,' to-night, you must not say anything before asking us to sing. It is all that I can do to control my feelings anyway, when we do sing it, and if you introduce it by remarks, I shall break down." They sang this piece, and "I Know not the Hour that My Lord will Come," that evening-the last I ever heard them sing together. Mr. Bliss sang "Eternity" alone.

That evening we left for Chicago. We breakfasted and dined with Mr. Moody at the Brevoort House, and arranged that we should

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