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Here the old man clasped his hands, and prayed low.

"Hast thou not known and felt the existence of that Being, whose infinity consists not only in his power, his wisdom, and his eternity, but also in his love, and in his justice? Canst thou forget the time when the blue sky, by day and by night, opened on thee, as if the mildness of God was looking down on thee? Hast thou not felt the love of the Infinite, when he veiled himself in his image, the loving hearts of men ; as the sun, which reflects its light not on the moon only, but on the morning and evening star also, and on every little twinkler, even the farthest from our earth?

"Canst thou forget, in the dark hour, that there have been mighty men among us, and that thou art following after them? Raise thyself, like the spirits who stood upon their mountains, having the storms of life only about them, never above them! Call back to thee the kingly race of sages and poets, who have inspirited and enlightened nation after nation!”

"Speak to me of our Redeemer," said the father.

"Remember Jesus Christ, in the dark hour. Remember him, who also passed through this life. Remember that soft moon of the Infinite Sun, given to enlighten the night of the world. Let life be hallowed to thee, and death also; for he

shared both of them with thee. May his calm and lofty form look down on thee in the last darkness, and show thee his Father."

A low roll of thunder was heard from clouds which the storm had left. Gottreich continued to

read:

"Remember, in the last hour, how the heart of man can love. Canst thou forget the love wherewith one heart repays a thousand hearts, and the soul during a whole life is nourished and vivified from another soul? Even as the oak of a hundred years clings fast to the same spot, with its roots, and derives new strength, and sends forth new buds during its hundred springs?"

"Dost thou mean me?" said the father.
"I mean my mother also," replied the son.

The father, thinking on his wife, murmured very gently, "To meet again. To meet again." And Justa wept while she heard how her lover would console himself in his last hours with the reminiscence of the days of her love.

Gottreich continued to read: "Remember, in the last hour, that pure being with whom thy life was beautiful and great; with whom thou hast wept tears of joy; with whom thou hast prayed to God, and in whom God appeared unto thee; in whom thou didst find the first and last heart of love; and then close thine eyes in peace!"

Suddenly, the clouds were cleft into two huge black mountains; and the sun looked forth from

between them, as it were, out of a valley between buttresses of rock, gazing upon the earth with its joy-glistening eye.

"See!" said the dying man. "What a glow!" "It is the evening sun, father."

"This day we shall see one another again,' murmured the old man. He was thinking of his wife, long since dead.

The son was too deeply moved to speak to his father of the blessedness of meeting again in this world, which he had enjoyed by anticipation during his journey. Who could have courage to speak of the joys of an earthly meeting to one whose mind was absorbed in the contemplation of a meeting in heaven?

Gottreich, suddenly startled, asked, "Father, what ails thee?"

"I do think thereon; and death is beautiful, and the parting in Christ," murmured the old man. He tried to take the hand of Gottreich, which he had not strength to press. He repeated, more and more distinctly and emphatically, "O thou blessed God!" until all the other luminaries of life were extinguished, and in his soul there stood but the one sun, God!

At length he roused himself, and, stretching forth his arm, said earnestly, "There! there are three fair rainbows over the evening sun! I must go after the sun, and pass through them with him." He sank backward, and was gone.

At that moment the sun went down, and a broad rainbow glimmered in the east.

"He is gone," said Gottreich, in a voice choked with grief. "But he has gone from us unto his God, in the midst of great, pious, and unmingled joy. Then weep no more, Justa."

His youth was innocent; his riper age

Marked with some act of goodness every day; And, watched by eyes that loved him, calm and sage, Faded his late declining years away.

Cheerful he gave his being up, and went

To share the holy rest that waits a life well spent.

That life was happy. Every day he gave
Thanks for the fair existence that was his ;
For a sick fancy made him not her slave,
To mock him with her phantom miseries.
No chronic tortures racked his aged limbs,
For luxury and sloth had nourished none for him.

Why weep ye, then, for him, who, having won

The bound of man's appointed years, at last, Life's blessings all enjoyed, life's labors done, Serenely to his final rest has passed,

While the soft memory of his virtues yet

Lingers, like twilight hues when the bright sun is set?

W. C. BRYANT.

REST AT EVENING.

BY ADELAIDE A. PROCTER.

W

HEN the weariness of life is ended,

And the task of our long day is done, And the props, on which our hearts depended, All have failed, or broken, one by one; Evening and our sorrow's shadow blended, Telling us that peace has now begun.

How far back will seem the sun's first dawning,
And those early mists so cold and gray!
Half forgotten even the toil of morning,
And the heat and burden of the day.

Flowers that we were tending, and weeds scorning,
All alike, withered and cast away.

Vain will seem the impatient heart, that waited Toils that gathered but too quickly round;

And the childish joy, so soon elated

At the path we thought none else had found;

And the foolish ardor, soon abated

By the storm which cast us to the ground.

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