is better to go hungry from a loaded
table, than run the risk of an indigestion."

"Are you _seventy-two_?" asked Mr. Royden, in a sad tone.

"The twelfth day of October next is my seventy-second birthday," replied
the old man, cheerfully. "Don't you think I have lasted pretty well?"

"Is it possible that you are twenty-eight years older than I?" exclaimed
the other.

"Do I not look as old?"

"When your countenance is in repose, perhaps you do; but when you
talk,--why, you don't look over fifty-five, if you do that."

"I have observed it," said Sarah. "When you speak your soul shines
through your face."

"And the soul is always young. God be praised for that!" replied Mr.
Rensford, with a happy smile on his lips, and a tear of thankfulness in
his eye. "God be praised for that!"

"But the souls of most men begin to wither the day they enter the
world," remarked Chester, bitterly. "Perhaps, in your sphere of action,
you have avoided the cares of life,--the turmoil and jar of the noisy,
selfish world."

"Heaven has been merciful to me," said the old man, softly. "Yet my
years have been years of labor; and of sorrow I have seen no little.
Persecution has not always kept aloof from my door."

"Oh, few men have had so much to go through!" spoke up Mr. Royden, in a
tone of sympathy. "The wonder is, how you have kept your brow so free
from wrinkles, and your spirit so clear from clouds."

"When the frosts have stolen upon me, when the cold winds have blown,"
replied Mr. Rensford, in a tone so touching that it was felt by every
one present, "I have prayed Heaven to keep the leaves of my heart green,
and the flowers of my soul fresh and fragrant. The sunlight of love was
showered upon me in return. I managed to forget my petty trials, in
working for my poor, unhappy brethren. My wife went to heaven before me;
my child followed her, and I was left at one time all alone, it seemed.
But something within me said, 'They whom thou hast loved are in bliss;
repine not therefore, but do thy work here with a cheerful spirit, and
be thankful for all God's mercies.'"

"I understand now how you got the familiar name I have heard you called
by," said Mr. Royden, with emotion.

"Yes,"--and the old man's fine countenance glowed with gratitude,--"it
has pleased my friends to give me an appellation which is the only thing
in the world I am proud of,--_Father Brighthopes_. Is it possible," he
added, with tears in his eyes, "that I h