pain in his chest which extended down his left arm. He spent the Sabbath at Manchester with his sister Mrs. Emma Brown Holbrook, and on Monday, although not feeling well, he came to Concord where he had been canvassing for several weeks. The writer was away from home; otherwise some medical assistance might have averted the results that followed his complaint of feeling poorly when he retired at an early hour on that Tuesday evening. Since he did not make his appearance at the usual hour for breakfast Mr. Thurston went to his room but could get no response to his rap on the door; so he opened the door and spoke but could not awaken the Deacon. It was soon apparent that he had fallen into his last sleep; angina pectoris probably having been the

cause.

The Milford Farmers' Cabinet for April 14. 1892, mentioned his death in headlines thus:

"A Prince in Israel is Dead"; "Know ye not that there is a prince and a great man fallen this day in Israel?"

The article proceeds as follows:“Deacon Brown is dead," was the sudden sad announcement that sent grief and gloom into the homes of Concord on the -th instant. Yes, the good Bible man has gone to his rest. The cheering familiar face of our dear loving friend and brother will be seen no more. The pilgrim has ceased his wanderings; the well-worn and time-honored satchel with its precious Bible burden has ceased its visitations; and the whole State is in tears." He was born in Hollis, July 3, 1815. His residence had been in Campton the last 42 years of his life and there he is buried.

"In January 1849 he commenced the work of canvassing the State for supplying the Bible under the auspices of the New Hampshire Bible Society-a work which death found him engaged in, having been as he playfully termed it 'wandering forty years in the wilderness' and having in that time walked more miles than any other man in the State, and left in its homes more than one hundred thousand copies of the word of God. He has also often supplied pulpits, attended

untold bible meetings; engaged in revival services; largely aided the Y. M. C. A. and done an immense amount of Christian work in the families of the State in connection with his oft repeated visits. His visits will be missed. And what will the Bible meeting be without the Bible man? Who can fill his place?"

In summer's heat and winter's cold,
O'er hill and dale and plain,
He's borne his satchel till grown old,
Through sunshine and through rain.

There's not a home, however proud,
A cot, however small,

Nor one so lone and solitaire,
As not to know his call.

More was his love to give than sell,
'Twas need he sought to reach;
But more and most 'twas his delight
The ignorant to teach.

And many rescued, saved ones
Will weep when they shall learn
That the beloved "Bible Man"
To his long rest has gone.

He rests, and blessed is his rest,
For in long years to come,
His name shall yield a sweet perfume
Within our every home.

The Lord be praised for Deacon Brown.
His noble Christian race.

And may his kindly Providence
As richly fill the place.

E. D. B.

The writer was at one time the recipient of a discarded satchel made from the faithful horse's hide which had been many times through the State, slung from the good man's shoulder, and into which, and out of which, he had handled many a volume of the Holy Book.

After the death of Mrs. Thurston in 1898, as the writer was about leaving America for foreign shores to be absent some years, and not knowing that she would ever return to live in the old home again, she gave this sacred souvenir which had been given to her by the "Bible Man," himself, to the New Hampshire Historical Society, and it is probably safe in the Society's charge today.

He used to tell a story of one frosty morning, when, in the neighborhood of the new Cemetrey, he met a peddler who accosted him thus: "Well, old man what are you selling?" The Deacon replied "Lamps." "Lamps?" said the peddler; "Lamps? how can you have lamps in that bag?" The

band concerning a certain saloon in their vicinity. Mr. Holbrook stated the name of the owner, but said; "You are not going in there, are you? you must not go in there. Don't do it!" Next morning the Deacon's brother-in-law asked him; "You are not going into that saloon, are you?" The Deacon replied, "I don't know." Mr. Holbrook again emphatically stated that he must not go into that place and pleaded at length for him

Deacon asked, "What do you think your mother would say about it?" And he replied; "I know who you are. You used to call upon my mother upon the hill. I remember you." "Well, young man," said the Deacon, "which do you think your mother would prefer you to have, the Testament or the cards?" And he, turning to his companions, said "I guess we had better take them, boys.

A young man then entering walked

straight to the bar and called for a glass of beer. The Deacon walked up and planted a ten cent Testament beside the glass. The young man looked at it and the Deacon exclaimed "The spirit of God and the spirit of the Devil side by side and not quarreling!" Then the Deacon asked, "Which will you have; they are both the same price?" The fellow bought the Testament and went out, leaving the glass untouched. The saloonkeeper informed Deacon Brown that he was doing more business there than himself. The Deacon replied to the saloon-keeper; "Well, you'll buy one before I get through; you need a Bible.

week came to her home, which was beautifully furnished. She greeted him cordially and reiterated her great interest in the cause he represented, saying she should be pleased to contribute. She arose and left the room, returning with a five dollar bill and handed it to Deacon Brown. was folding it to put it into his pocket she remarked that they were short for money just now. If he would make the change he might keep five cents for the cause. The Deacon put his hand into his pocket and brought out a handful of silver, slowly counted out the change and gave her four dollars and ninety-five

Here is one for forty cents." All the hangers-on took up the subject and challenged the bar-keeper till he was forced to make an offer. He said, "I'll give you twenty-five cents for it" and the Deacon replied, "the book is yours." Following this more copies of the Testament were sold in the saloon before the good man left.

In a thrifty New Hampshire town where contributions were asked a finely dressed woman after church told the Deacon that she was greatly interested in his work and that when he should call at her house she would give him something for the cause. He thanked her and the following

cents ($4.95);

Then said, "Now, madam, I thank you for your generous gift, I hope you will follow it with your prayers. Good Morning."

On another occasion, while in conversation with an egotistical man who claimed to believe that there is no God, the Deacon energetically remarked "Oh I have heard of you! You are mentioned in a book I have here." The man became very curious and wanted to see the book and his own mention. The Deacon opened his satchel and took out one of his Bibles; opening to Psalm 14-1 he pointed for the man to read "The fool hath said in his heart, there is no God." The man read and hung his head.

One autumn during the latter part of the good man's life Mr. and Mrs. Thurston and the writer, in response to an oft repeated invitation took a carriage trip to Campton to spend Saturday and Sunday in the home of Mr. and Mrs. Brown. On the evening after the arrival it was chilly. The Deacon's son Henry sat on the woodbox in the kitchen while each of the others occupied chairs near the stove. It was a cozy country scene. The subject of conversation as the writer remembers it, was interesting because Mr. Henry Brown knew the wooded Waterville property which had belonged to Sewel Hoit which his heirs had never seen and which they had recently sold.

On Saturday Mrs. Brown escorted us to a quilting party, at the church vestry. The church people were busy at work for the eldest daughter of

the pastor, Miss Ellen Blakely, who was about to leave for foreign shores as missionary to Turkey. That second night the wind howled, and in the morning the ground was white with snow. There were cracks and crevices in the house, through which the snow actually blew. The building was old and probably the deacon felt that it was not worth enough to pay for fixing it up; for to begin would have meant no end to repair and expense.

In 1907 the writer married George W. Stevens of Claremont, who, as she later discovered, had in his youth also assisted Deacon Brown in his canvassings of Acworth, and that on such occasions the Deacon's home had been in Mr. Stevens' father's family. Thus was the man of God endeared to the hearts of both New Hampshire people.

About twenty miles out to sea from Boothbay Harbor, Maine, lies the peaceful little island of Monhegan. To a lover of nature it is an ideal spot. Its very primitiveness gives one a feeling of perfect rest. Within its length of two and a half miles. and width of one mile, one never tires of the varied scenery, for there are so many kinds, the rocky cliffs, the sandy beach, the woods of tall evergreen trees and the green fields.

This island is only inhabited by about a hundred people, fishermen and their families, who live there the year around. Their little cottages are small but comfortable.

Through the summer a few visitors come to the island, who mostly board at the two small hotels. Many of them are people who have come year after year to spend their summer in the quaint old place they have learned to love. There are many artists who never tire of coming to paint on their canvas the beautiful spots they find on the island and to sketch the old tumbling down fish houses, where are stowed away nets, oars, lobster cages and what would seem to us only "trash" but which are very useful to these old fishermen.

To one who has spent a summer on dear old Monhegan Island it is like being in another world than our busy cities or thronged summer resorts. The memory will ever be a pleasant and dear one to those fortunate enough to visit this little island.

It is a daily event to the islanders when the small boat arrives with the mail, supplies and a few passengers. No large steamers come to the island. Two small sail boats, fitted with power engines to be used in cases of necessity, attend to all the wants. Occasionally a private yacht with tourists makes a landing to allow the people on board a few hours on this attractive island. Plenty of row and

sail boats are generously loaned by the fishermen to the summer visitors.

Lying parallel with the island is a ledge of rocks called "Mananna" which forms a little harbor for Monhegan Island. This ledge is on the side toward the mainland. On its highest point are a fog horn and a bell. On a foggy day these make the first sounds to let the craft know they are nearing Monhegan Island. As one approaches Mananna, in a clear day, he thinks it is Monhegan and is disappointed, but when the boat makes the turn around the ledge into

the tiny harbor his first thought can be none other than, "What a fascinating spot," for now he sees Monhegan Island.

Stepping from the boat to the old wooden wharf the visitor will see what he would call a two wheeled dump cart to which is attached the only horse on Monhegan Island. This takes the mail, the supplies and baggage to the proper places. This same cart does all the necessary teaming on the island. There are a few cows and plenty of hens on the island.

Walking up the road path from the wharf one sees first an old carpenter shop, then the Post Office. This is in the ell part of a quaint old house of