his neck,
and repeating what she had said more than once before, "oh, how
thankful ought I to be for the saving of your precious life!"

"We are often thankful in our ignorance," said her father, "for the
greatest misfortunes."

"Do you call it a misfortune to me," she cried, "that I am not left
alone in the world? Oh, father, what should I do without you?" And
in spite of her exertions to suppress them, the tears burst from her
eyes.

"Come to me, my child," said Armstrong, and he took the weeping girl
into his arms, and leaned her head gently upon his bosom. "Compose
yourself. Believe me, there are trials harder to be borne than the
loss of parents."

"None, none to me," sobbed Faith. "If it were right I would pray that
I might die the same moment with you."

"It is well for one like me to think often of death," said her father,
"nor should the young forget they are mortal. But many happy days, I
trust, are reserved for my darling."

"Happy, if you are to share them with me, father. But why do I weep,"
she said, raising up her head and smiling through her tears, "at
thinking of the possibility of a misfortune to myself, when my heart
is swelling with thankfulness for your preservation?" She arose from
her father's lap, drew a chair to his side, and as her custom was,
took one of his hands in both of hers.

"Such are the dispensations of Providence," said Armstrong. "The old
man, with white hair and bent body, creeps to his grave, while the
infant that has just learned to smile in its mother's face, is hurried
from her arms. Why was it that Sill, so strong, so happy, so young,
with a wife and children dependant on him for support, should be taken
and I left?"

"Why should we curiously inquire?" replied Faith. "If we could look
behind the curtain, no doubt we should see sufficient reasons for the
choice."

"When I look back upon my life," continued Armstrong, more distinctly
revealing the thought lurking in his mind, "it seems as if I were born
to be the cause of misfortune to others. Had any one else been in
the boat, the accident would not have happened, or certainly not
terminated fatally."

"Do not say so, dear father. Can you regulate the winds and waves?"

"No, Faith. Yet unmanly as it is, let me lament the fate that makes me
the instrument to execute the decrees of Heaven. I am a rod to
attract the fires that consume, while itself rises unscathed amid the
destruction."

It seemed to Faith natura