Em. did not reply; indeed she scarcely heard his words, as her whole attention was fixed upon the lovely isle, to whose shore they were now approaching so near that the velvety green hill, crowned with its glittering white mansion, was slowly sinking out of sight behind the beautiful girdle of silver maple trees that encircled it like a halo of soft light. “Here we is, honey,” said old ’Sias, as he drew down the little sail, and, taking an oar, pushed the boat up among a shoal of white water-lilies that surrounded the shores. Then ’Sias moved the _White Dove_ to a water-post, and got out and offered his hand to his passenger, saying: “Jump for it, honey, so as to clear de wet sand and light wid dry feet on de rock here.” Em. followed his direction and landed dry-shod. Then they picked their way over a bank of violets and pansies, snow-drops and other wild flowers, and then through a thicket of eglantines, sweet-briers, and wild roses, and honeysuckles, and next through a grove of acacias or flowering locusts, and finally through the belt of silver maples and then up the verdant hill, that was beautifully laid off in groves of fragrant, flowering trees, adorned with statues, arbors and fountains; in parterres of the most brilliant and odoriferous shrubs and flowers; and in green terraces, rising one above another, and reached by white stone steps and leading quite up to the colonnaded porch of the glistening white mansion, with its many sparkling, crystal windows and its balconies, verandas and porches. Around the white columns that supported the piazzas were twined the most beautiful and fragrant rose-vines and climbing plants. It was a place of more than ideal beauty; it was a home of paradisiacal loveliness. It was no dreamy solitude now, however. On the highest terrace in front of the house were seated about seventy persons, of both sexes and all ages, colors and conditions—a very small congregation, but making up in devout attention for what they lacked in numbers, as they listened silently, with upturned, intent faces, to the preacher, who was concealed from the newcomers by an intervening, rose-wreathed column. “I am afraid we are late,” whispered Em. “Yes, honey, we is. The sermon is begun. We sha’n’t hear de tex’ ’less he repeats it, which he may; but what we will hear will be wort’ comin’ for, I tell yer. Hush, honey; come ’long here. Here’s a good seat, and right good view ob de preacher, too.” Em. took the seat indicated on the broad pedestal of a group of statuary, representing Faith, Hope and Charity, that stood on the second terrace. Her position was a little below the crowd, but gave her a plenty of space and a good view of the preacher. And that preacher! How shall I be able to present him vividly before my readers—that blind orator of the wilderness, who labored among the few—the poor and the ignorant—but who ought to have had a world-wide field and fame.