Z. S. Hastings, Autobiography of Z. S. Hastings
“ No paths were ever trodden more frequently than the paths to the well, the barn and the post-office, and the church. No neighbors were ever so long ours in kindness and love. No birds ever sang so much and sweetly as those in the very trees that had been planted by our own hands. And no home was ever more truly dedicated day by day to Almighty God upon bended knee and in the reading of His word.Do you remember the old home, boys? But life is not always sweetness. It cannot be, under the present sin-curst environments. ”
