irst to greet him.

"Jehovah bless my lovely daughter!" whispered the aged man, as the tears
coursed down his furrowed cheeks. For a moment he looked around upon the
company with an earnestness of affection not easily described; then
looking up to heaven, in trembling accents he broke forth:

"Oh, Jehovah, let the smiles of Thy countenance rest on these Thy chosen
ones!"

The venerable man was then gently led by Mathias to the bedside.

A smile passed over the pale countenance of Joram, the fountain of his
tears overflowed; he looked up to the face of his old friend, reached out
his trembling hand, and cried:

"Ah! my good Barzello! thou hast come once more to see thy friend Joram,
before he leaves for the spirit land."

"If thou art to go first," replied the old soldier, "we shall not long be
separated; with me, also, the battle of life will soon be closed."

"I find, Barzello, that my race is well-nigh run! I am fast passing away.
I have a strong impression that this day I shall join the society of
immortals; therefore I thought fit to send for my best friend, to be with
me in my dying moments. I am spared to see a good old age. For the last
forty years my cup of joy has been often filled and running over. Jehovah
has dealt with his servant in great kindness. The iniquities of my youth
are forgiven--I am at peace with the God of Israel."

The sick man desired to be raised a little higher on his pillow.

"That is better. Now I can see you all. We must soon part; my sun is fast
sinking, and in a few hours Joram will be gone. The chariot will soon
call. I chide you not for your tears, for here on earth I know too well
their value. In that bright world above where Jehovah dwells, and where
angels spread their wings, no tears are found."

Joram, quite exhausted, closed his eyes, and deep silence for a while
prevailed. He soon revived, and called for Perreeza.

"What can I do for my ever-dear uncle?" whispered Perreeza.

"One more little song, accompanied by the harp of Judah," said Joram,
with a smile, "and I ask no more."

"Perreeza greatly fears that it will disturb thee."

"Nay, my sweet child, thy Uncle Esrom was never yet disturbed by the
sound of melody. Sing to me that little song thy aunt so dearly loved."

"Oh, my dear uncle," whispered the weeping Perreeza, "I fear it is beyond
my power to sing. I am filled with weeping. Yet, at thy request, I will
make the effort. Oh, God of my fathers, help me!"