land of religious light and privileges for one where they are unknown, or, what is worse, disregarded. But I trust in time to be fully reconciled to even this deprivation, for God is everywhere, and can grant us the light of his countenance and the joy of his presence in the wilderness and solitary place as well as in the proud cathedral with its crowds of worshipers. Yes, I am ready, Walter; are you equally

"Yes; I have brought my mind to it by a strong effort, for I see that it must be done, and the sooner the better."

Not many days after, Alice Fleming was seen, with a cheerful countenance and willing step, arranging her splendid and tasteful furniture, and putting things in order for a public sale. All was soon disposed of, and a house so recently a scene of elegance and comfort was dreary and desolate. All but the chamber of its mistress-there, with the few articles she had reserved for herself, her children by her side, and her Bible on her stand, sunshine and peace prevailed. Alice was happy, although she was about leaving her home, family and

long-tried friends, for an unknown region and the uncertain good will of strangers. She was happy, because she was doing her duty.

"Such is the bliss of souls serene,

When they have sworn, with steadfast mien,
Counting the cost, in all to espy

Their God-in all themselves deny.

"O, could we learn that sacrifice,

What lights would all around us rise!
How would our hearts with wisdom talk
Along life's dullest, dreariest walk!"

In a few weeks the family were on their way westward. Like the patriarch, they went forward, not knowing whither. Oh, had Walter Fleming possessed the patriarch's faith, and chosen the patriarch's God as his guide, how confidently and firmly would he have walked in the "footsteps of the flock!" As it was, he was doubting and anxious, and it required constant exertion on the part of Alice to raise his drooping spirits and cheer him on his way.

Ten days found the pilgrims nearly ten hundred miles from the home of their childhood and the scenes of comfort that had encircled their wedded life. Mr. Fleming had saved

from the wreck of his fortune enough to procure for his family a small lodge in the wilderness, and here they soon collected their little all.

Alice had been a communicant in the Episcopal Church since the age of fifteen, and within its hallowed precincts she had dedicated her children to her Saviour in holy baptism. Walter and Ellen had learned to love the Church of their mother's love, and to lisp its hymns and prayers, although the one was but seven and the other four years of age.

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It was Sunday morning-the first Sabbath of the strangers in a strange land. The sun arose in unusual brilliancy, and its rich light fell gorgeously on the dark woods of Indiana that bounded the opposite shore of the Ohio, on whose banks our pilgrims were located. The scene was solemn and grand-the waves of the noble river rolled by in gentle dignity, and, as they washed the shore, alone broke the profound stillness that reigned around.

Alice had risen with the dawn of day, and stood at their cottage door looking abroad on the beauty of the scene-its natural eloquence

spoke to her heart, and she felt that perhaps in this land of silence and solitude she might be brought nearer her God than she had ever yet been. "But my children, my precious little ones," she exclaimed, "how shall I teach you to yield your young affections to your God, in a region where no temple rises to his name, and his worship is unknown?" Then arose the soothing reflection that the promise was to "them and their children," and she resolved to do her part in faithfulness, and to leave the result to Him who alone could sanctify and bless her efforts.

When Alice returned to the house she found her little son Walter up and dressed with great care and neatness, having taken, himself, from his trunk, his bright Sunday suit, which had not been removed since his mother's hand packed it before leaving home. When seated at their simple breakfast, he said, "Mother, where are we going to church to-day? I looked from the top of the highest hill yesterday, as far as my eye could reach, and I could not see a single steeple, and scarcely a house of any kind-I am afraid we shall have a great way to go to church."

"There is no church, my dear Walter, near enough for us to attend, and we must worship God to-day in our own house-he will listen to our prayers and accept our services if offered in sincerity and truth.”

"Not go to church!" exclaimed little Ellen; "why, mother, we never stayed at home; what shall we do all day?"

As soon as the duties of the morning were over, Alice took her children aside, and, with their Bibles and Prayer-books, went with them through the beautiful service of our Church. Their sweet, childish voices made each response in its proper place, and arose in simple melody as they joined their mother in singing the sweet hymns.

Many Sabbaths were thus improved by this pious parent, until the Liturgy became familiar as household words to Walter and Ellen. Other studies were not neglected, but the children received from their mother systematic instruction in the various branches to which they had attended in the excellent schools at home. Walter was now growing a fine, manly boydistinguished for his generosity and the warmth. of his affections. It was interesting to mark his