it very often."

"As I do," he said; "for I consider my dear eldest daughter one of
God's good gifts to me."

"Whenever I hear you say that, father, I feel ashamed of all my faults
and follies and want--oh, so much--to grow wiser and better."

"I too need to grow better and wiser," he said; "and we must both ask
daily and hourly to be washed from our sins in the precious blood of
Christ--that fountain opened for sin and for uncleanness.

"'There is a fountain filled with blood,
Drawn from Immanuel's veins;
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.'"

"Papa, I love that hymn, and am thankful to Cowper for writing it,"
she said.

"And so am I," he returned. "Oh, what gratitude we owe for the opening
of that fountain! for the love of Christ that led him to die that
painful and shameful death of the cross--that we might live. 'The love
of Christ which passeth knowledge.'"

They were silent for a little; then he said, "It is growing late,
daughter; it is quite time time that this one of my birdlings was in
her nest. Give me my good-night kiss and go."

"Can I go to you on the deck in the morning, papa?" she asked as she
prepared to obey.

"That depends upon the weather," he answered. "If it is neither
raining nor blowing hard, you may; otherwise, you may not."

"Yes, sir; I'll be careful to obey," she said: with a loving smile up
into his face.

All seemed quiet within and without when she awoke in the morning, and
dressing speedily she stole out through the cabin, and up the
stairway, till she could look out upon the deck. Her father was there,
caught sight of her at once, and drew quickly near.

"Good-morning, daughter," he said; "you may come out here, for it is
not raining just now, and the wind has fallen."

"Is the storm over, father, do you think?" she asked, hastening to his
side.

"The worst of it certainly is, and I think it will probably clear
before night."

"So that we can start on our homeward journey?"

"Yes," he answered; "but it will not be well to leave this safe harbor
until we are quite certain of at least tolerably good weather."

"No, none of us would want to run any risk of shipwreck," she said;
"and there isn't really anything to hurry us greatly about getting
back to our homes."

"Nothing except the desire to see them and our dear ones there," he
said; "and to delay that will be wiser than running any risk to bring
it about sooner."