It will surprise you and touch your heart when you see it--the epitaph on the gravestone of George Washington. As you approach the grave, you may imagine that it will take a big stone to mark properly the resting place of this tremendous man. And on that stone you will expect many striking truths concerning this giant of history. He was the commanding General of the Continental armies, the First President of the United States, and the Father of his country. But you will likely be a little awed when at last you look down upon the small, plain stone that marks his grave. On that stone is engraved the name George Washington, the date of his birth and the date of his death. And at the bottom of the stone are these words,

In Tewin churchyard, a short distance from King's Cross Station, in England, stands a great four-trunked tree growing out of a grave. Its presence there has given rise to much speculation among the residents of that section. The grave from which it grows is that of Lady Anne Grimston.
Is the tree a monument to a woman's disbelief or did it happen to grow there merely by chance? Nobody knows.
Lady Anne Grimston did not believe in life after death. When she lay dying in her palatial home, she said to a friend, "I shall live again as surely as a tree will grow from my body."
She was buried in a marble tomb. The grave was marked by a large marble slab, & surrounded by an iron railing. Years later the marble slab was found to be moved a little. Then it cracked, & through the crack a small tree grew.
The tree continued to grow, tilting the stone & breaking the marble masonry until today it has surrounded the tomb with its roots, & has torn the railing out of the ground with its massive trunks. The tree at Lady Anne Grimston's grave is one of the largest in England.
Was it mere chance that caused the tree to grow there? Perhaps God the Almighty took her challenge.

Gerald B. Winrod, who was editor of an American magazine, The Defender, related a remarkable story about an atheist who had been very bold, blatant & outspoken against God & the Bible. He had defied God by saying, "If there is a God, my grave will be infested with snakes." At the funeral it was necessary to remove a snake from the grave before the coffin could be lowered, the sexton saying that he had killed four big snakes at one time, yet never saw a snake at any other grave.
Mr. Winrod's informant said he would ask a gentleman in Ohio to give him more details, & in due course he received a further word, together with a picture of the bronze monument of the atheist, Chester Beddell, who had died in 1908 at the age of 82. The letter said, "Mr. Beddell said while living there was no God, & he never did believe in one. He did not hesitate to speak of these things. ... He built the monument years before his death. His statue is of bronze, & in his uplifted right hand there is a scroll with this inscription, "Universal Mental Liberty." Under his left foot is a scroll representing the Bible, with the inscription, "Superstition." Before his death he made this remark: "If there is a God, or any truth in the Bible, let my body be infested with snakes." Since his burial the family lot has been full of snake holes around the curbing. Snakes can be seen any day you visit the graveyard. Last year 20 of us went out on the 30th of October, & saw three snakes. The neighbours there say the more they kill, the thicker they seem to be.
Later the opportunity came to Mr. Winrod to make an observation of his own. While engaged in a conference in Youngstown, he was taken by car to North Benton. He asked an old man if he could tell him where the Beddell grave was. "Sure, everybody around here knows where Chet Beddell was buried," said the old-timer. "You can't miss it--big monument in the graveyard. Looking for snakes?"
Later, another man said, "Well, if Beddell did ask for snakes, he sure got'em!"
He & his companions came to the place in question where they saw the monument, the uplifted scroll, the other scroll under his foot, the stern bronze countenance. They approached the grave, camera in hand. Was it a hoax, or was it true? One of his companions was the first to see a snake. "Look there," he shouted. Yes! There it was. They walked round the grave & counted six snakes. His companion killed one. He photographed one. They also took other photographs. The sexton told them that he killed four that morning--he had killed as many as 20 snakes in a single day. Finally he said, "I don't know, maybe the Lord did have something to do with it."
It is a remarkable story, & only one of the many others that could be related of the danger of putting God out of the life.

Prince Edward Island, in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, reported the strange news of Charles Coughlin's homecoming. He was a native of the island who in eighteen ninety-five started travelling and a few years later wound up at Galveston, Texas. He died there and was buried. On September eight, nineteen hundred and one, a terrific West Indian hurricane swept the Gulf of Mexico, and caused that historic calamity of the Southwest known as the Galveston flood. The wind blasted at a terrific velocity of a hundred and thirty-five miles an hour, and swept the raging waters over the city. The churning torrents washed out the cemetery where Charles Coughlin was buried. The water swept away the earth and the coffins, which floated out on the Gulf. Thirty-four years later, in nineteen thirty-five, a floating coffin drifted ashore at Prince Edward Island. Upon examination, they found a plate with the name of Carles Coughlin, the same man who had left his Prince Edward Island home those long years ago. Wind and current had carried the coffin from the Gulf of Mexico off Galveston for thousands of miles-all the way around into the Atlantic and up the coast to the Gulf of the St.Lawrence. An unusual way for a local boy to return home. 41. Alexander the Great, we are told, being upon his deathbed, commanded that, when he was carried forth to the grave, his hands should not be wrapped, as was usual, in the cereloths, but should be left outside the bier, so that all men might see them, and might see that they were empty; that there was nothing in them; that he, born to one empire, and the conqueror of another; the possessor while he lived, of two worlds, of the East, and of the West, and of the treasures of both, yet now when he was dead could retain not even the smallest portion of these treasures; that in this matter the poorest beggar and he were at length upon equal terms. If we live for this world, we shall go out of it empty-handed, but if we live for the next world we shall depart full-handed, "rich in faith" and soon to enter upon an eternal inheritance.

Alexander the Great, we are told, being upon his deathbed, commanded that, when he was carried forth to the grave, his hands should not be wrapped, as was usual, in the cereloths, but should be left outside the bier, so that all men might see them, and might see that they were empty; that there was nothing in them; that he, born to one empire, and the conqueror of another; the possessor while he lived, of two worlds, of the East, and of the West, and of the treasures of both, yet now when he was dead could retain not even the smallest portion of these treasures; that in this matter the poorest beggar and he were at length upon equal terms.
If we live for this world, we shall go out of it empty-handed, but if we live for the next world we shall depart full-handed, "rich in faith" and soon to enter upon an eternal inheritance.

The story is told of a certain priest who was disturbed to see a shabbily dressed old man go into his church at noon every day and come out again after a few minutes. What could he be doing? He informed the caretaker and asked him to question the old man. After all, the place contained valuable furnishings.
"I go to pray," the man said in reply to the caretaker’s questioning.
"Come, come now," said the other, "you are never long enough in the church to pray."
"Well, you see," the old man went on, "I don’t know how to pray a long prayer, but every day at twelve o’clock I just come and say, ‘Jesus, it’s Jim.’ I wait a minute and then come away. Even though it’s just a little prayer, I think He hears me."

When Jim was injured some time later and taken to the hospital, he had a wonderful influence on the ward. Grumbling patients became cheerful and often the ward would ring with laughter.
"Well, Jim," said a nurse to him one day, "the men say you are responsible for this change in the ward. They say you are always happy."
"Aye, that I am. I can’t help being happy. You see, it’s my Visitor. Every day He makes me happy."
"Your visitor?" The nurse was puzzled. She had noticed that Jim’s chair was always empty during visiting hours, for he was a lonely man, with no relatives. "Your visitor? But when does he come?"
"Every day," Jim replied, with a light in his eye. "Yes, every day at twelve o’clock He comes and stands at the foot of my bed. I see Him and He smiles and says, ‘Jim, it’s Jesus.’"

* * * *

The above story is a rather wellknown Christian anecdote you might say, but we, the webmaster— being familiar with "the story of Jim as related above, were very encouraged by the following update to it, sent to us by a friend of ours, who is a missionary in Thailand. He wrote us, telling us the following amazing account:

Saddest states:

1. Bulgaria
2. Nigeria
3. Belarus
4. Russia
5. Latvia
6. Lithuania
7. India
8. Estonia
9. Romania
10. South Africa 

Did you hear the one about the rabbi, the minister and the priest who went fishing? When the fish were not biting, the rabbi and the priest got out of the boat and walked across the water to find a good spot.
The minister, too, got out of the boat, but each time he started to sink and had to clamber back on board.
"Do you think that we should tell him where the rocks are?" the priest finally said to the rabbi.

Or how about the story of the older Baptist woman who walked into a Methodist church one Sunday? The pastor asked her why she was a Baptist, and she replied that it was because her parents and grandparents had been Baptists.
"Ma'am, that's really not a good reason to be a Baptist," the preacher said. "Suppose your mother and your father, and your grandmother and your grandfather had been morons, what would you have been?"
Without batting an eye, she replied, "I guess I'd have been a Methodist."