better, or comfort us in
affliction, or strengthen us for duty."

"They are very interesting. I have spent days thinking them over. But
if the subject is unpleasant we will choose another. I think you look
wonderfully like your mother to-night. I almost seem to see her again.
It was very curious how Mr. Holden discovered your likeness to her."

"I was quite startled," said his daughter, glad to find her father's
mind directed to something else. "I wonder if he could have seen my
mother."

He explained the way in which he found it out. "Was it not ingenious?
No one else would have thought of it. He has a very subtle intellect."

"I was not quite satisfied," said Faith. "His explanation seemed far
fetched, and intended for concealment. I think he must have seen my
mother."

"If that is your opinion, I will inquire into it. But I do not wish
to speak of Holden. You have been to me, Faith, a source of great
happiness, and when you are gone, I know I shall not live long."

"We shall live many happy years yet, dear father, and when our time
comes to depart, we will thank God for the happiness we have enjoyed,
and look forward to greater."

"Your time is at the door, my daughter," said Armstrong, solemnly.

"I know that at any moment I may be called, but that does not affect
my happiness, or diminish my confidence, that all is well according to
the counsel of His will."

"I see thee in the shining raiment of the blessed! I behold thee in
the celestial city!" exclaimed Armstrong.

It was later than usual when the father and daughter separated that
night. It seemed as if he were unwilling to allow her to depart,
detaining her by caresses when she made suggestions of the lateness of
the hour, and assenting only when the clock warned that midnight was
passed. Then it was he said:

"I do wrong to keep you up so long, Faith. You should be bright and
well for an excursion I intend to take with you to-morrow. You will go
with me, will you not?"

"I shall be delighted. The clear sky," she added, walking to the
window, "promises a fine day."

"Upon how many new-made graves will to-morrow's sun shine? I wish mine
was one of them"

"O, do not say so. You will break my heart."

"Not willingly. O! I do not pain you willingly. You were not born to
suffer much pain. Living or dying, you will be a pure offering to your
Maker, my daughter."

"Father, how strangely you talk! You are ill."

"As well as I shall be in this li