are on him;
Him whose dying love and power
Stilled its tossing, hushed its roar.
Safe is the expanded wave,
Gentle as a summer's eve;
Not one object of his care
Ever suffered shipwreck there.'"

"That ain't no hymn in the book, is it?" inquired the ox driver.
"Haw!--go 'long. That ain't in the book, is it, Lois?"

"Not in the one we use in church, Mr. Sears."

"I wisht it was!--like it fust-rate. Never heerd it afore in my life."

"There's as good as that _in_ the church book," remarked Mrs. Armadale.

"Yes," said Lois; "I like Wesley's hymn even better--

'Come, let us join our friends above
That have obtained the prize;
And on the eagle wings of love
To joys celestial rise.

. . . .

'One army of the living God,
To his command we bow;
Part of his host have crossed the flood
And part are crossing now.

. . . . . .

'His militant embodied host,
With wishful looks we stand,
And long to see that happy coast,
And reach the heavenly land.

'E'en now, by faith, we join our hands
With those that went before;
And greet the blood-besprinkled bands
On the eternal shore.'"

CHAPTER XXXI.

LONG CLAMS.

There was a soft ring in Lois's voice; it might be an echo of the
trumpets and cymbals of which she had been speaking. Yet not done for
effect; it was unconscious, and delicate as indescribable, for which
reason it had the greater power. The party remained silent for a few
minutes, all of them; during which a killdeer on the fence uttered his
little shout of gratulation; and the wild, salt smell coming from the
Sound and the not distant ocean, joined with the silence and Lois's
hymn, gave a peculiar impression of solitude and desolation to at least
one of the party. The cart entered an enclosure, and halted before a
small building at the edge of the shore, just above high-water mark.
There were several such buildings scattered along the shore at
intervals, some enclosed, some not. The whole breadth of the Sound lay
in view, blinking under the summer sun; yet the air was far fresher
here than it had been in the village. The tide was half out; a wide
stretch of wet sand, with little pools in the hollows, intervened
between the rocks and the water; the rocks being no magnificent
buttresses of the land, but large and small boulders strewn along the