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

VOICES FROM THE PAST 337
stantling. Maiul dope to Scotty Laird. Mail paper to Paris.
Paul Watkins.
Thus it was announced to us that Josepli Ray Watkins,
Junior, had carried off the prizes at Andover, and I thought
more of what it would have meant to our elder brother than
I did even of what it was to Paul and Joe.
I will here submit a poem, probably the very last effort of
our elder brother's life and dedicated to the memory of a
young man, a son of 1 homas Dill and his wife Emma, friends
of our youth. This loss to our old friends brought back a host
of memories to William, and he felt constrained to write these
verses but a short time before his own passing "from off life's
stage." These are the lines:
IN MEMORIAM
Challen Dill, Died October 20, 1898
O Youth, to me unknown, the tear I drop
For thy most cruel and untimely fate.
Falls not for thee so much as for those friends
Of mine, friends of my early years, who lose
In thee their hope, their pride, their joy.
Thou thy life account hath closed; human life
Thou hast accomplished; not rounded and complete.
For such is not the law of earthly growth —
The most perfect, largest fruit shows that one
Still greater, fairer still, was planned;
Man leaves unfinished e'en the longest life.
Harsh and sudden was thy taking off.
Bitter were thy pangs but short. Soon thou foundest
The last and best relief and Death, the foe,
Proved thy best friend.
Each day thou builtest on thy life as does
The mason on a wall, daily adding
That which was to cause thy future joy or grief.
Upon that building thou shalt work no more;
As thou hast left it it must stand, for the
Yoke of daily care and toils thou art outspanned;
Naught can vex or harm thee now; naught of ill
Can ever reach thee. 'Tis well with thee, neither
In life nor death hast thou escaped Him— It,