arguments, no theological and abstruse disquisitions, to convince me
that it is right. I believe it, May, even at the eleventh hour, when I
have but little to hope. I believe--perhaps as devils do--for, child,
I tremble."

"Oh, dear uncle, the grace of contrition is never given to devils. It
is Almighty God who has touched your heart. He pities, and would save
you. 'I desire not the death of him that dieth, saith the Lord God;
return ye, and live.'"

"Does he say that?"

"Yes; that, and ten thousand times more. Think of Him, dear uncle,
'who was wounded for our transgressions, who was bruised for our sins;
the chastisement of our peace was upon him, and by his bruises we are
healed.'"

"What must I do besides?"

"Believe, and be baptized."

"Baptized! I was raised in the belief of the Friends, and have never
been baptized," he said, musingly.

"Better so, sir, for now you can receive properly the waters of
regeneration, and experience, when you so much need them, all the
graces that flow from baptism into the believing soul," said May.

"I know the doctrines of your faith, May. I have read--I studied it in
my days of _vision_ and _unreality_ as an admirable system of human