too; it was twice as good as they had before; or as Daisy, who was quiet
in her epithets, phrased it, "it was _nice_." By Mr. Dinwiddie's help
they could go faster and further than they could alone; he could jump
them up and down the rocks, and tell them where it was no use to waste
their time in trying to go.

They had wandered, as it seemed to them, a long distance--they knew not
whither--when the children's exclamations suddenly burst forth, as they
came out upon the Sunday-school place again. They were glad to sit down
and rest. It was just sundown, and the light was glistening, crisp and
clear, on the leaves of the trees and on the distant hill-points. In the
west a mass of glory that the eye could not bear was sinking towards the
horizon. The eye could not bear it, and yet every eye turned that way.

"Can you see the sun?" said Mr. Dinwiddie.

"No, sir,"--and "No, Marmaduke."

"Then why do you look at it?"

"I don't know!" laughed Nora; but Daisy said: "Because it is so
beautiful, Mr. Dinwiddie."

"Once when I was in Ireland," said the gentleman, "I was looking, near
sunset, at some curious old ruins. They were near a very poor little
village where I had to pass the night. There had been a little chapel or
church of some sort, but it had crumbled away; only bits of the walls
were standing, and in place of the floor there was nothing but grass and
weeds, and one or two monuments that had been under shelter of the roof.
One of them was a large square tomb in the middle of the place. It had