r fastened at the end of the room to keep out the
cold. Especially on a mid-week Meeting like to-day, they often found
it difficult to 'think Meeting thoughts' in the silence, or even to
attend to what was being said, so busy were they, watching for the
entrance of that long desired butterfly.

For children thought about very much the same kind of things, and had
very much the same kind of difficulties in Meeting, then as now; even
though the place was far away, and it is more than a hundred years
since that sunny morning in Easton Township, when the sunlight lay in
patches on the roof.

It was not only the children who found silent worship difficult that
still summer morning. There were traces of anxiety on the faces of
many Friends and even on the placid countenances of the Elders in
their raised seats in the gallery. There, at the head of the Meeting,
sat Friend Zebulon Hoxie, the grandfather of most of the children who
were present. Below him sat his two sons. Opposite them, their wives
and families, and a sprinkling of other Friends. The children had
never seen before one of the stranger Friends who sat in the gallery
that day, by their grandfather's side. They had heard that his name
was Robert Nisbet, and that he had just arrived, after having walked
for two days, thirty miles through the wilderness country to sit with
Friends at New Easton at their mid-week Meeting. The children had no
idea why he had come, so they fixed their eyes intently on the
stranger and stirred gently in their seats with relief when at last he
rose to speak. They had liked his kind, open face as soon as they saw
it. They liked still better the sound of the rich, clear voice that
made it easy for even children to listen. But they liked the words of
his text best of all: 'The Beloved of the Lord shall dwell in safety
by Him. He shall cover them all the day long.'

Robert Nisbet lingered over the first words of his message as if they
were dear to him. His voice was full and mellow, and the words seemed
as if they were part of the rich tide of summer life that flowed
around. He paused a moment, and then went on, 'And now, how shall the
Beloved of the Lord be thus in safety covered? Even as saith the
Psalmist, "He shall cover thee with His feathers and under His wings
shalt thou trust."' Then, changing his tones a little and speaking
more lightly, though gravely still, he continued: 'You have done well,
dear Friends, to stay on valiantly in