at all!" said Winnie.

"Every talent that isn't buried brings something into the
treasury," said Winthrop.

"Yes -- that's pleasant," said Winnie; -- "but I don't know what
mine is."

"The good that people do unconsciously is often more than that
they intend."

"Unconsciously! -- But then they don't know whether they do it
or not?"

"It don't hurt them, not to know," said her brother smiling.

"But what sort of good-doing is that, Winthrop?"

"It only happens in the case of those persons whose eye is
very single; -- with their eye full of the light they are
reflecting, they cannot see the reflection. But it is said of
those that 'their works do follow them.'"

Winnie was tearfully silent, thinking of the ingathering of
joy there would be for one that she knew; and if Winthrop's
arm was drawn a little closer round her little figure, perhaps
it was with a like thought for her. How bright the moonlight
shone!

"That's pleasant to think, Governor, -- both parts of it," said
Winifred softly, beating his hand slightly with one of her
own. He was silent.

"Now won't you sing something else? -- for I'm tired," she
said, nestling her head more heavily on his breast.

And he sang again. --

"'Vain are all terrestrial pleasures,
"' Mixed with dross the purest gold;
"'Seek we then for heavenly treasures,
"'Treasures never growing old.
"'Let our best affections centre
"'On the things around the throne;
"'There no thief can ever enter, --
"'Moth and rust are there unknown.

"'Earthly joys no longer please us,
"'Here would we renounce them all,
"'Seek our only rest in Jesus,
"'Him our Lord and Master call.
"'Faith, our languid spirits cheering,
"'Points to brighter worlds above;
"'Bids us look for his appearing,
"'Bids us triumph in his love.

"'Let our lights be always burning,
"'And our loins be girded round,
"'Waiting for our Lord's returning,
"'Longing for the joyful sound.
"'Thus the christian life adorning,
"'Never need we be afraid,
"'Should he come at night or morning,
"'Early dawn, or evening shade."'

The air was slow, tender, and plaintive, and borne by the deep
voice over all the breadth of the moon-lit river. Winnie's
breath was fuller drawn; the skipper held his, and forgot his
helm; and in every pause of the song, the sweet interlude was
played by the water under the sloop's prow.

"Governor --" said Winnie, when the bubbling water had been
listened to alone for a while.

"W