"God's in his Heaven; all's right with the world."
Wrote Browning one spring when "the hill-side's dew-pearled,"
Autumn is here now - and still it is so;
God's creatures proclaim it - and they ought to know.

A squirrel is building his snug winter's nest;
He's searching and begging and storing the best
Of the '49 nut crop. The old hen next door
Is an up-to-date mother, who knows what a chore
It becomes in the city to raise a large brood
Why - where would you put them? And then there's the food.
Her big laying spree had hardly begun
When she sat on two eggs - and she hatched out but one, -
One little white chick, a garage his abode,
But there's no prouder mother in all Hampshire Road.

A once-moody paper boy comes 'round at dawn,
But the rebel - the martyr - within him is gone;
For, trotting beside him now - through rain or fog -
Is a boy's best and dearest companion - a dog.

The year's at the autumn; the dancing leaves twirl. -
God's in his Heaven; all's right with the world.

Apropos of the history of the early churches in our community there is a human interest story that I am sure you will appreciate. I have a deep-seated conviction that the godly man of whom I write is a forbear of the Henderson family at Eldersridge. I mean the family of the late Joseph Henderson who married Jennie Telford. Their son, John, with three of his children, still lives on the old place. His sister Ethel is one of my best friends. Rev. W.W. Woodend writes a high tribute to one of his predecessors in the ministry of the church, Rev. Joseph W. Henderson, who was born in Franklin County, Pa. This man, educated and ordained in the east, was pastor at Ebenezer from 1799 until 1825. At that time he retired from active ministry, but continued to live among his people until his death in 1836, at the age of 84. He was a mild, amiable man, beloved by all who knew him. He is believed to have been one of the first advocates of total abstinence from intoxicating drinks, and conscientiously practiced upon that principle. He was also remarkable for his hospitality to strangers and for his benevolent spirit. On one occasion, a young brother, about to go on a foreign mission, having made an appeal, Rev. H., the tears rolling down his cheeks, pulled out his well-filled purse and shook the whole contents into the hat. Before his death he gave $50 to foreign missions before the necessities of old age might tempt him to use it. There is more to tell of this faithful servant of the Lord. But we must save it for another time.

Ever yours,
Florence B. Taylor
2907 Hampshire Rd.,
Cleveland Hts., 18, O.

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