But, bless you ! he wouldn’t have harmed a
fly. His warm heart was full of the milk of
human kindness. His house was open to
every comer. His helpful hand went out
to the weak, the friendless, the suffering. Into
aching wounds he poured balm. To lonely
souls he carried consolation. To sorrowing
despondents he went with words of cheer and
comfort. He was the spiritual lighthouse,
whose far-thrown beams warned the strug
gling mariner how to steer the frail life
boat away from the shallows and the break
ers. “Guide, philosopher and friend,” his
worth to the world, his influence for good
shone with the unquenchable radiance of the
stars.
Like the family doctor, he bore no taint of
money-madness. He loved his work. He was
(Continued on Page Twelve)
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