, but loved them _because_
they were such destitute, wicked, lost boys? I did not go out into the
streets to look for well-dressed, well-cared-for, faultless children,
who would adorn my house and shine in it like jewels. I sought for
outcasts; I loved them as outcasts; I knew they would be ungrateful and
disobedient, and never love me half as much as I did them; but that made
me all the more sorry for them. See what pains I am taking with them,
and how beautifully some of them are learning their lessons. And now
tell me, my son, in seeing this picture gallery, do you not begin to
see me? Could anything less than love take in such a company of poor
beggars?

_Boy_. Yes, my father, I do begin to see it. I do believe that I know
you better now than I ever did before. I believe you love even me. And
now I _know_ that I love you!

_Father_. Now, then, my dear son, let that vexing question drop forever,
and begin to act as my son and heir should. You have a great deal to
learn, but I will myself be your teacher, and your mind is now free to
attend to my instructions. Do you find anything to love and admire in
your brothers?

_Boy_. Indeed I do.

_Father_. You shall be taught the lessons that have made them what they
are. Meanwhile I want to see you look cheerful and happy, remembering
that you are in your father's heart.

_Boy_. Dear father, I will! But oh, help me to be a better son!

_Father_. Dear boy, I will.

[1] In Union Theological Seminary, New York.

[2] The Baptism of the Holy Ghost, by Rev. Asa Mahau, D.D., p. 118.

[3] Dr. L. H. Hemenway.

[4] Some of the charades referred to will be found in appendix E, p.
556.

[5] Referring to the following hymn composed by Madame Guyon in prison:

A little bird I am,
Shut out from fields of air,
And in my cage I sit and sing
To Him who placed me there.
Well-pleased a prisoner to be,
Because, my God, it pleaseth Thee.

Naught have I else to do;
I sing the whole day long;
And He, whom most I love to please,
Doth listen to my song.
He caught and bound my wandering wing,
But still He bends to hear me sing.

[6] Mrs. De Witt was the wife of the Rev. Thomas De Witt, D.D., a man
of deep learning, an able preacher in the Dutch language as well as the
English, and universally revered for his exalted Christian virtues. He
was a minister of the Collegiate Church, New York, for nearly half a
century. He died May 18, 1874, in the e