There was something in the singing of his little prattler which filled Richard Ashton with strange awe. As she lisped out "I am so glad," with note as clear as the carolling of a lark, the look of seraphic rapture which overspread her face evinced that she had entered into the spirit of the piece and that her little heart was glad. As he looked into the face of his wife he saw, intuitively, her thoughts were as his, and he whispered to her: "Ruth, dear, she seems too fair, too sweet, too good for earth; I am sometimes afraid that God will take her from us." Mrs. Ashton made no reply; her heart was too full for speech. But as he looked at Allie he saw she had caught his whispered words, and--it seemed almost in unconscious harmony with her thoughts--her fingers struck the keys and her lips warbled forth in sweetest pathos the simple but tenderly touching words: "Strange, we never prize the music Till the sweet-voiced bird has flown! Strange, that we should slight the violets Till the lovely flowers are gone! Strange, that summer skies and sunshine Never seem one half so fair As when winter's snowy pinions Shake the white down in the air! "Then scatter seeds of kindness," etc. They each of them kissed the little one who was to them so dear. "My little girl sang that beautifully," said her father, "but she must not sing too much; I am afraid, if she does, she will injure her voice." "Call Eddie," he said; and Mamie ran out for him, for he had gone out immediately after supper to exhibit his catch to the son of a neighbor. Mamie met him, and told him that his father was waiting to have prayer. It was now the custom of Richard Ashton to gather his wife and children around him at the family altar, both morning and evening, to sing a hymn and read a portion of Scripture; and then to supplicate the Father in heaven for His benediction upon the little group that were there assembled. He had commenced family worship when they were married, but as his views changed he gradually desisted, and finally left off entirely. This caused Ruth great grief, for she had ever been a conscientious and consistent Christian. Since they came to Bayton she had prevailed upon him to resume the custom that was such a source of joy and comfort to them in the halcyon days of yore. He always held the service in the morning before breakfast and just after supper in the evening, as then all the children could be present. When Eddie came his father took down the family Bible. They then sang an appropriate hymn, and, after reading a chapter, he carried them all to a throne of grace in prayer.