eyes glowed with the light of a high resolve. Their features expressed
determination which nothing could daunt. These said but little,
leaving the younger ones to do most of the talking. There were youths
and maidens, more free from care than their elders, who chatted and
laughed in the most animated manner.

As the evening wore on and the conversation gradually died down, Simon
Winters brought forth his fife and began to play an old familiar tune.
At once all talking ceased, and hearts thrilled with memories of other
days. Several tunes did Simon play, and when he had ended, the Colonel
brought forth a small, well-worn book from an inside coat pocket. This
he opened and then glanced around upon the little band.

"Friends," he began, "the hour is late, and we are all weary. But ere
we separate, I ask you to join with me in a brief service of prayer and
praise. But first of all, we need a message from the Great Book."

Then in a clear strong voice he read the ninety-first psalm, and as the
words of promise sounded forth an intense silence reigned. The psalm
ended, the Colonel closed the book, and dropping upon his knees began
to repeat the Lord's Prayer. All immediately followed his example,
including the captain and the crew of the schooner. As they rose to
their feet, one man started to sing. The words and tune were familiar,
and in another minute old and young were lifting up their voices in
Isaac Watts' grand hymn of comfort and hope.

O God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Our shelter from the stormy blast,
And our eternal home.