--and then I thought of Christian and Christiana, and Mr. Ready-to-halt,
and father, and they all crossed the river, you know."

"Yes, Dot," I whispered. And then I repeated softly the well-known
verse we had so often sung:

"One army of the living God,
To His command we bow;
Part of the host have crossed the flood,
And part are crossing now."

"Yes, yes," he repeated, eagerly; "it seemed as though I could see
father walking down the long golden path; it shone so, he could not
have missed his way or fallen into the dark waters. Carrie told me
that by-and-by there would be "no more sea," somehow; I was sorry for
that--aren't you, Essie?"

"Oh, no, don't be sorry," I burst out, for I had often talked about
this with Carrie. "It is beautiful, but it is too shifting, too
treacherous, too changeable, to belong to the higher life. Think of
all the cruel wrecks, of all the drowned people it has swallowed up
in its rage; it devours men and women, and little children, Dot, and
hides its mischief with a smile. Oh, no, it is false in its beauty,
and there shall be an end of it, with all that is not true and
perfect."

And when Dot had fallen asleep, I went down to Uncle Geoffrey and
repeated our conversation, to which he listened with a great deal of
interest.