's knee, in the
long, bright Sabbath afternoons, and looking with profound awe and
astonishment into the baize-covered volume, at the quaint unartistic
prints that were scattered through it. She recalled the shiver of
horror with which she looked on "_Daniel in the den of lions_," the
curiosity which the picture of the Garden of Eden called forth, and
the undefined, yet calm and placid feeling which stole over her as she
dwelt longest upon the "Baptism of our Savior." Then there was the
family record--her own birth, and that of her brothers and sisters,
were chronicled underneath that of generations now sleeping in the
shadow of the village church. But this train of thought was broken, as
they reverentially knelt when the volume was closed, and listened to
their father's humble and fervent petition, that God would watch and
guard them all, especially commending to the protection of Heaven,
"the lamb now going out from their midst."

There were tears even upon Mrs. Gordon's face when the prayer was
ended, but there was no time to indulge in a long and sorrowful
parting. The trunks were standing already corded in the hall; the
little traveling-basket was filled with home-baked luxuries for the
way-side lunch; and Mary was soon arrayed in her plain merino dress
and little straw bonnet. There are some persons who receive whatever
air of fashion and refinement they may have from their dress; others
who impart to the coarsest material a grace that the most _recherche_
costume fails to give. Our heroine was one of the last--and never was
Chestnut street belle more beautiful than our simple country lassie,
as she stood with her mother's arm twined about her waist, receiving
her parting counsel.

The last words were said--James, in an agony of grief, had kissed her
again and again, reproaching himself constantly for his selfishness in
consenting that she should go. The children, forgetting their tears in
the excitement of the moment, ran with haste to announce that the
stage was just coming over the hill. Yes, it was standing before the
garden-gate--the trunks were lifted from the door-stone--the
clattering steps fell at her feet--a moment more and Mary was whirled
away from her quiet home, with her father's counsel, and her mother's
earnest "God bless you, and keep you, my child!" ringing in her ears.

It was quite dark ere the second day's weary journey was at an end.
Mary could scarce believe it possible that she had, inde