mother's sake? Do you not remember how she commended you to my care?
And never have I forgotten to pray daily that her God may be your God
also."

At the mention of his mother the tears filled his eyes. We were
sitting together on the trunk of a fallen tree, and he covered his
face with his hands, but I could see that the tears forced their way
between the fingers, and that he was sobbing violently. He is only as
yet a mere boy, and such emotion is excusable.

At last he looked up.

"I long to be a Christian like her," he said; "over and over again she
taught me, during her last days on earth, of the Christ she loved, and
who, she said, was ever near her. I have heard all about the faith she
loved, yet I am an outcast from it. What can I do?--my father will not
let me be baptized, and I dare not oppose his will; yet I sometimes
think I ought to chance all, and to die, if death should be the
penalty."

"Die? You do not surely think he would slay you?"

"I know he would."

"In that case, my child, your duty seems plain: your Lord calls you to
give Him your love, your obedience, and to seek refuge in the fold of
His church."

"Ought I to leave my father?"