raphy, especially as many of the facts and incidents therein have been gathered from his own frequent public references to himself and the various members of his household; and from a former work by the same hand, the materials for which were largely furnished by Mr. Moody's nearest relatives, and his co-workers, both in America and Great Britain.

EARLY LIFE-NORTHFIELD AND BOSTON.

Of the nine children born to EDWIN, and BETSY HOLTON MOODY-seven sons and two daughters-DWIGHT LYMAN is the sixth; born on the fifth day of February, 1837, in the town of Northfield, Massachusetts. His mother, a woman of the old heroic blood of New England, is a descendant, in the fifth generation, from William Holton, one of the first settlers of the plantation of Northfield, which was purchased of the Indians in 1673, and laid out by a committee of the General Council of Massachusetts, of which committee the said Holton was a member.

Mrs. Moody, still active and happy under the burden of seventy winters, visited her son during the great revival in New York, where her force of character and admirable manners were most highly appreciated. "Ah, my friend," said Rev. Dr. Cuyler to Mr. Moody, "it is easy enough to see where you got your vim and your hard common sense."

When Dwight was a child of four years of age his father suddenly died, leaving for the support of his widow and her seven children, of whom the oldest was but thirteen years of age, nothing but a little house on the mountain side, with an acre or two of land, and even this encumbered with debt.

A month after her husband's death another boy and girl were born. Some of her worldly-wise neighbors advised her to give away or bind out her children, all except the twir babies; but this she would not do. God had endowed her with unusual strength, both of body and mind, and with a cheerful courage and a habit of looking on the bright side, as well as with humble trust in Him who is the Father of the

fatherless, and the God of the widow, she bravely lifted her burden of poverty and toil, and carried it patiently and hopefully through the long years, until her sons became her fortune, as they had been her burden and her care. The oldfashioned mansion of the Moody estate, with its ample barns and broad acres, is the result of patient and frugal toil through the days of small things, as well as of the larger enterprise of her sons grown to man's estate. Mr. Moody himself has done much to improve and beautify the old homestead, and near by has built himself a beautiful though unpretentious home, where in the summer time, when his annual revival campaigns are over, he is transformed into a quiet-looking farmer; giving enthusiastic attention to fine blooded stock, and new methods of culture and tillage; though spending a large proportion of his time with distinguished guests from England and America, who, in large numbers, delight to visit him in his breezy mountain home.

The Moodys were Unitarians, and, as fast as the children were old enough, they were sent to the Church of that order in the village a mile away, where the Rev. Mr. Everett was pastor. It must, however, be borne in mind that this was before the time of those notable heresies with which the Unitarian name in these days is so often associated. Pastor Everett believed in the Bible as the word of God, in Jesus Christ as the Son of God, and the Saviour of all sinners who would try to save themselves. He also believed in the Sabbath, and in the Church and its sacraments. The Apostles' Creed would, doubtless, have been acceptable to him as a fair statement of Christian theology; but that other creed, named after Saint Athanasius, would have given him no little trouble.

This man was a faithful friend to the widow and her large family of little children. He would visit them betimes, cheer them up with some pleasant words, settle quarrels among the boys, give the little ones a bright piece of silver all around, and bid the mother keep on praying; telling her God would never forget her labor of love. At one time he took little

Dwight into his family to do errands and go to school—a work of charity which, by all accounts, must have sorely tried his patience. The good man was often perplexed what to do with the boy, being forced to laugh at his pranks in spite of himself, when he felt his duty to be stern and severe.

But his chief instructor in religion, as well as in every thing else, was his mother. Great sorrow and years of toil and privation had drawn her heart very close to the Saviour, and when the care of her great family of little children grew so heavy as almost to overwhelm her, she learned to cast her burden on the Lord. Sometimes, when the boys were quarrelsome and rebellious, and the household was in utter confusion, she would go away to her own room and pray for wisdom and patience. "And when I would come back," said she, "they would all be good children again."

At the table the mother would repeat a text of Scripture or a verse of a hymn, and the children would say it in chorus after her. That table, as may well be supposed, was not always very well supplied; but the mother, though toiling day and night to feed and clothe her children, and not always knowing to-day where the food was to come from for tomorrow, kept up a brave heart and wore a cheerful face. The shadow of poverty and death was over them, but the love of the great Father above, and of the godly mother below, kept the little ones from want and gloom, and made their home a happy one in spite of all their misfortunes.

Among the rich inheritances of this poor boy were a vigorous constitution, boundless ambition and animal spirits, a will strong enough to break down all opposition and pride. which was all the time leading him to undertake things far beyond his years.

His mother says, "He used to think himself a man when i.e was only a boy."

He would usually obey his mother, but she is almost the only person in all the world who was ever able to manage him. There was nothing vicious in his disposition: he was ungovernable chiefly because he was a natural leader himself,