infants, and with the name of the departed mother breathed over her orphan, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, she was dedicated to God by water sprinkled three times on her sweet grave face. The grandfather handed a pen to the chaplain, but it was lightly pressed to trace the inscription, for the page was wet with the big drops that fell from the old man's eyes.
Many moments elapsed before the thanksgiving could be uttered, and then the happy saint joyfully exclaimed:
"Bless you, Sir! I bless God that he has granted me this grace before I die. Now I am ready to go to my child in heaven."
"My dear madam," answered the preacher, "it is, indeed, a blessed ordinance; but the child of prayers for two generations would not have missed the promise because of an impossibility on your part."
"No, no! the spirit is better than the form. She had the promise. I knew that she was in the covenant, but I wanted her in the fold."
The chaplain entered his boat. Never did lake, and mountain, and green shore look so beautiful, for they seemed all bathed with holy light; and that noon, when, with his friends reclining on the sward, he told the story of the baptism in the wilderness, their moistened eyes expressed their sympathy with his joy.
Heaven opened for the grandmother a few days afterward. The next year her Saviour took up her child's child in his arms, and the three were together among the angels. The grandfather lived but a short time. One of the daughters having married a farmer, moved, with her sister, down into the open country, where she also died in her young beauty. Of the two other members of the family, I have heard nothing since.
The old stone house still stands near the rushing inlet, but the storms beat through its broken windows. Rank weeds have over-run the garden, and brambles hide the spring near the kitchen door. Yet the path from the landing-place can be followed; and should any of my readers ever visit Piseco, now more accessible, but charming as ever, they can easily recognize the scene of my story. It is ever fresh and hallowed in my memory; for there I learned, by precious experience, that the good God never forgets those who trust in Him, and that, go where we will, we may carry His blessing with us to some heart thirsting for His word.
