emblem of his life."

The tears gushed into the eyes of Laurence, and he acknowledged that
Eliot had not toiled in vain. Little Alice put up her arms to
Grandfather, and drew down his white head beside her own golden locks.

"Grandfather," whispered she, "I want to kiss good Mr. Eliot!"

And, doubtless, good Mr. Eliot would gladly receive the kiss of so sweet
a child as little Alice, and would think it a portion of his reward in
heaven.

Grandfather now observed that Dr. Francis had written a very beautiful
Life of Eliot, which he advised Laurence to peruse. He then spoke of
King Philip's War, which began in 1675, and terminated with the death of
King Philip, in the following year. Philip was a proud, fierce Indian,
whom Mr. Eliot had vainly endeavored to convert to the Christian faith.

"It must have been a great anguish to the apostle," continued
Grandfather, "to hear of mutual slaughter and outrage between his own
countrymen and those for whom he felt the affection of a father. A few
of the praying Indians joined the followers of King Philip. A greater
number fought on the side of the English. In the course of the war the
little community of red people whom Mr. Eliot had begun to civilize was
scattered, and probably never was restored to a flourishing condition.
But his zeal did not grow cold; and only about five years before his
death he took great pains in preparing a new edition of the Indian
Bible."

"I do wish, Grandfather," cried Charley, "you would tell us all about