Annals of our ancestors; one hundred and fifty years of history in the ...

WHAT THE YEARS HAVE BROUGHT 323
cent mosaic laid on pilaster and panel, on fair-veined Italian
or rich yellow Sienna marble, as my eye noted the harmonious
designs in mosaic and stained glass and took in the graceful
pedestals of Alps green marble, and as I beheld all the glows
and the scintillations in the light-filled vista, I could but look
on my brother's portrait and sigh and muse. 1 he little boy
who stood beside his mother's chair and said, "I will be a rich
man!" was not there to see this crowning building. The
Symphony Orchestra played sweetly through that hall;
crowds of people passed by and admired the beauty of the
offices, the inlaid work, and the handsome rotunda; but a quiet
little man with fair skin and white hair was absent. He had
with care and patience worked out the plan of the large business;
with foresight he had thoughtfully felt his way; and now
a great business was established, and its latest achievement
was open to view — but he had seen only the foundations of
the edifice. It came to me as it had before, that but for him
this would not have been. He had not worked alone, and
yet without him it would not have been.
The evening was a success and apparently appreciated by
all the guests. I noted Maude King, the one daughter of my
sister-in-law, tall and charming and accomplished, and not
only this, but a girl of mental ability. Then my eye ran along
the line of those receiving and I meditated. In the silence
imposed by ears dull of hearing, I could dream for a moment
of what had been far back in the years — of what had been
and was gone. Our family will go on; there will be growth;
may it attain to some of the ideals held dear and paramount
by our father and mother.
In a conversation with Dr. Stewart, he spoke of the fact
that brother had asked him to go with him on the trip to
Jamaica. He had called upon Dr. Stewart, as he had not been
in the best of health, and made this suggestion. Our old
friend said he cherished a regret that he had not gone. The
story of our younger brother is closed and we must leave it
now, though the pen lingers in love and memory.
The story of our sister is pleasant in the telling, though
she has not been without grief. Four daughters came to the