forget father and
mother, you may forget brothers and sisters, but, oh, do not forget
your God." The words rung in his ears. They entered his heart. Again
and again his thoughts ran back through the years he had already
passed, and the reviving recollections brought fresh floods of tears.
But still his thoughts ran on to his father's parting words, "forget
not your God."

It was midnight before the stage stopped, to give him a little rest.
He was then more than a hundred miles from home. But still his
father's words were ringing in his ears. He was conducted up several
flights of stairs to a chamber in a crowded hotel. After a short
prayer, he threw himself upon the bed, and endeavored to obtain a
little sleep. But his excited imagination ran back to the home he had
left. Again he was seated by the fireside. Again he heard the
soothing tones of his kind mother's voice, and sat by his father's
side. In the vagaries of his dream, he again went through the scene
of parting, and wept in his sleep as he bade adieu to brothers and
sisters, and heard a father's parting advice, "Oh, my son, forget not
your God."

But little refreshment could be derived from such sleep. And indeed he
had been less than an hour upon his bed, before some one knocked at
the door, and placed a lamp in his room, saying, "It is time to get
up, sir: the stage is almost ready to go." He hastily rose from his
bed, and after imploring a blessing upon himself, and fervently
commending to God his far-distant friends, now quietly sleeping in
that happy home which he had left for ever, he hastened down stairs,
and soon again was rapidly borne away by the fleet horses of the
mailcoach.

It was a clear autumnal morning. The stars shone brightly in the sky,
and the thoughts of the lonely wanderer were irresistibly carried to
that home beyond the stars, and to that God whom his father had so
affectingly entreated him not to forget. He succeeded, however, in
getting a few moments of troubled sleep, as the stage rolled on; but
his thoughts were still reverting, whether asleep or awake, to the
home left far behind. Just as the sun was going down the western
hills, at the close of the day, he alighted from the stage, in the
village of strangers, in which he was to find his new home. Not an
individual there had he ever seen before. Many a pensive evening did
he pass, thinking of absent friends. Many a lonely walk did he take,
while his thoughts were far away amo