o brace herself for the rough
work of approaching winter. There was a softness in the air which
induced one to court its embrace. Absolute stillness characterised the
inanimate world. Clouds floated in the heavenly blue in rotund masses,
which seemed, to the careless glance, as unchangeable as the hills, and
the glassy water reflected them with perfect fidelity. It also
reflected gulls, ducks, plover, and other wildfowl, as they sailed,
whirred, or waded about, absorbed in the activities of their domestic
economy, or in the hilarious enjoyment of the sweet influences around
them. Colours most resplendent dyed the forest trees; gentle sounds
from bird and beast told of joyous life everywhere, and the blessed sun
threw a golden haze over wood and lake and hill. It was as though
Paradise had been restored to man, and our loving Creator had swept away
every trace of evil and misery from the beautiful earth.

But although the day is surely coming when, through Jesus Christ,
"sorrow and sighing shall flee away," Paradise had certainly not
returned to earth at the date we write of. Doubtless, however,
something which seemed marvellously like it had reappeared round the
hunter's home, for, while all nature was peaceful as well as beautiful,
love was the grand motive power which actuated the hearts of those who
dwelt there, and that love had been greatly intensified, as well as
purified, since the advent of Paul Burns with the manuscript Gospel of
John in his bosom, and the Spirit of God in his heart.

Besides being naturally sympathetic, Paul and Hendrick were thus drawn
still more strongly together, as they communed with each other--
sometimes while walking through the forest engaged in the chase; often
beside the camp-fire after supper while others slept; and, not
unfrequently, while paddling in their canoe over the sleeping lake.

One evening they were in the latter position--returning from a
successful day's hunt in the canoe--when Hendrick became more
communicative than usual about the Indian tribe to which his wife
belonged, and in regard to which subject he had hitherto been reticent.
The sun was setting; the island home was not far distant. The total
absence of wind and consequent stillness of the lake rendered it
unnecessary to do more than make an occasional dip of the paddles, with
which the light craft was propelled--Paul using his in the bow, while
Hendrick sat in the stern and steered. No one was with t