elancholy pleasure in telling it, "he issued a decree commanding all
the Protestants, who in France are called Huguenots, to abjure their
faith and become Catholics, or leave the kingdom. He had oftentimes
before promised them protection, but he was growing old and weak, and
thought that this might help to save his soul, which was in great need of
saving, for he had been a wicked king. My father and my mother were
Huguenots, and they chose to leave their home rather than give up their
faith, as did many thousand others, and after suffering many hardships,
escaped to England, with no worldly possession save the clothes upon
their backs, but with a great treasure in heaven and an abiding trust in
the Lord. They had six children, and after giving us a good education,
especially as to our religion, committed us to the providence of a
covenant God to seek our fortunes in the wide world. All of us came to
America, although Moses and John have since returned to England. James is
a farmer in King William County, Francis is minister of York-Hampton
parish, and sister Ruth lives with me, as you know."

A great deal more he told me, which slipped from my memory, for I was
thinking over what he had already said.

"And your mother and father," I asked, as we started back together, "fled
from France rather than give up their faith?"

"Yes," he answered, and smiled down into my eyes, raised anxiously to
his.

"And were persecuted just as the early martyrs were?"

"Yes, very much the same. All of their goods were taken from them, and
they were long in prison."

"But they were never sorry?"

"No, they were never sorry. No one is ever sorry for doing a thing
like that."

I trotted on in silence for a moment, holding tight to his kindly hand,
and revolving this new idea in my mind. At last I looked up at him, big
with purpose.

"I am going to do something like that some day," I said.

He gazed down at me, his eyes shining queerly.

"God grant that you may have the strength, my boy," he said. He bent
and kissed me, and we returned to the house together without saying
another word.

It was the custom of the Fontaine family to hold a meeting every year to
give thanks for the deliverance from persecution of their parents in
France, and I remember being present with my father and mother at one of
these meetings when I was seven or eight years old. One passage of the
sermon he preached on that occasion remained fixed indelibly in