the
path, feeling ashamed and a little relieved. He would never know that
she had seen it, and yet it seemed too bad not to thank him for such a
beautiful gift!

She hastened back to help Grandpa to bed. Grandpa always sang his
evening hymn just before he went to sleep, and as he lived in the
belief that every one was as deaf as himself, it was well to get the
performance over before the house was filled with company.

Grandpa had a very ancient little hymn book with an orange cotton cover
which had been one of Grandma's treasures, and which was now his most
prized possession. Grandma Lindsay had been a Methodist before her
marriage, and under her influence Grandpa had often been in danger of
wandering from the paths of Presbyterianism. He would have considered
it a great sin to confess that this old hymn book with its gospel songs
was more to him than the psalms of David, and he would never have
dreamed of introducing one of them into family worship. But he loved
every line inside the tattered orange covers, and their bright melodies
had helped him over many a hard place after Grandma had left him. His
favourite hymn was the last in the book, "The Hindmost Hymn," Grandpa
called it, and every night of his life, unless he were too ill, he sang
at least one verse of its sweet promise,

"On the other side of Jordan,
In the sweet fields of Eden,
Where the tree of Life is blooming,
There is rest for you.
There is rest for the weary,
There is rest for the weary,
There is rest for the weary,
There is rest for you!"

"Aren't you too tired to sing the Hindmost Hymn to-night, Grandpa?"
asked Christina slyly. But Grandpa did not fall into the trap.

"Tired? Hoh! Me tired! And the Lad jist come home! Indeed it will
be more than a hymn I'll be raising to the Lord this night. I'll jist
be singing Him a psalm, too, for He has brought Joseph back to the land
of Israel."

Christina was ashamed of her subterfuge, and joined him in his psalm of
gratitude, feeling that she, too, should raise a song of thanksgiving
for all that had come to her on this wonderful day. So she joined
Grandpa's shaking notes in

"Oh, thou, my soul, bless God the Lord;
And all that in me is
Be stirred up by His holy name
To magnify and bless!"

And then they finished with every verse of the Hindmost Hymn. Though
Grandpa never confessed it, he had a secret hope, every night, as he
lay down to sleep, t