.

"The Lord bless and comfort his stricken ones," said the minister as he
arose and stood for a few moments with his hand resting on the bowed
head of Mrs. Birtwell. "The Lord make us wiser, more self-denying and
more loyal to duty. Out of sorrow let joy come, out of trouble peace;
out of suffering and affliction a higher, purer and nobler life for us
all. We are in his merciful hands, and he will make us instruments of
blessing if we but walk in the ways he would lead us. Alas that we have
turned from him so often to walk in our own paths and follow the
devices of our own hearts! His ways are way of pleasantness and his
paths are peace, but ours wind too often among thorns and briars, or go
down into the gloomy valley and shadow of death."

A solemn silence followed, and in that deep hush vows were made that
are yet unbroken.

"If any have stumbled through us and fallen by the way," said Mr.
Elliott, "let us here consecrate ourselves to the work of saving them
if possible."

He reached his hand toward Mr. Birtwell. The banker did not hesitate,
but took the minister's extended hand and grasped it with a vigor that
expressed the strength of his new-formed purpose. Light broke through
the tears that blinded the eyes of Mrs. Birtwell. Clasping both of her
hands over those of her husband and Mr. Elliott, she cried out with
irrepressible emotion:

"I give myself to God also in this solemn consecration!"

"The blessing of our Lord Jesus Christ rest upon it, and make us true
and faithful," dropped reverentially from the minister's lips.

Somewhere this panorama of life must close. Scene after scene might
still be given; but if those already presented have failed to stir the
hearts and quicken the consciences of many who have looked upon them,
rousing some to a sense of danger and others to a sense of duty, it
were vain to display another canvas; and so we leave our work as it
stands, but in the faith that it will do good.

Hereafter we may take it up again and bring into view once more some of
the actors in whom it is impossible not to feel a strong interest. Life
goes on, though the record of events be not given,--life, with its joys
and sorrows, its tempests of passion and its sweet calms, its successes
and its failures, its all of good and evil; goes on though we drop the
pencil and leave our canvas blank.

It is no pleasant task to paint as we have been painting, nor as we
must still paint should the work now d