ains, while a few stars were seen glimmering in the west.
Then the service began. The whole constituted a temple worthy of the
grandeur of God. An old man in a dress of the quaintest simplicity
ascended a platform, wiped the dust from his spectacles, and, in a voice
of suppressed emotion "lined the hymn," of which that vast multitude
could recite the words, to be sung with an air in which every voice
could join. Every heart capable of feeling thrilled with emotion as that
song swelled forth, "Like the sound of many waters, echoing among the
hills and mountains." The service proceeded. The hoary-haired orator
talked of God, of eternity, of a judgment to come and all that is
impressive beyond. He spoke of his experiences and toils, his travels,
his persecutions and triumphs, and how many he had seen in hope, in
peace and triumph gathered to their fathers. When he spoke of the short
space that remained for him, his only regret was that he could no longer
proclaim, in the silence of death, the unsearchable riches and mercies
of his crucified Redeemer.

No wonder, as the speaker paused to dash the gathering moisture from his
own eye, his audience was dissolved in tears, or uttered exclamations of
penitence. Many who prided themselves on an estimation of a higher
intellect and a nobler insensibility than the crowd caught the
infection, and wept, while the others, "who came to mock remained
to pray."

In due time a schoolhouse was erected on the banks of the creek a mile
away from the house of Albert Stevens. Fernando was sent with the older
children. Mrs. Creswell the teacher had no end of trouble with the
little fellow, whose ideas of liberty were inconsistent with discipline,
and who insisted on reclining on the floor instead of sitting on a
bench. He became hungry and despite the fact that his preceptress had
forbidden "talking out loud" declared that he wanted something to eat.

"Wait a bit," answered the teacher. "We will have recess by and by."

"Is recess something to eat?" he asked.

This question produced a titter, and the insubordinate youngster was
again told he must not talk. After awhile he became accustomed to school
and liked it. He grew older and learned his letters. It was a tedious
task, the most difficult of which was to distinguish "N" from "U," but
he finally mastered them, and his education, he supposed, was complete.
After two or three years, he learned to read. His father on one of his
journeys to