Lucy Raymond; Or, The Children's Watchword — John Shaqi
Lucy Raymond; Or, The Children's WatchwordMachar, Agnes Maule
Religion
Lucy Raymond; Or, The Children's Watchword
Machar, Agnes Maule
Children -- Religious life
Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Sankar Viswanathan, and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
(This file was produced from images generously made
available by the Canadian Institute for Historical
Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org))
Lucy Raymond;
OR,
THE CHILDREN'S WATCHWORD.
BY THE AUTHOR OF
'KATIE JOHNSTONE'S CROSS.'
TORONTO:
JAMES CAMPBELL AND SON.
CONTENTS.
CHAP.
I. MISS PRESTON'S LAST SUNDAY,
II. LUCY'S HOME,
III. MORE HOME SCENES,
IV. NELLY'S SUNDAY EVENING,
V. STRAWBERRYING,
VI. A MISSION,
VII. TEMPTATIONS,
VIII. PARTINGS,
IX. INTRODUCTIONS,
X. NEW EXPERIENCES,
XI. A START IN LIFE,
XII. AMBITION,
XIII. A FRIENDSHIP,
XIV. AN UNEXPECTED RECOGNITION,
XV. THE FLOWER FADETH,
XVI. DARKNESS AND LIGHT,
XVII. HOME AGAIN,
XVIII. A FAREWELL CHAPTER,
LUCY RAYMOND.
I.
_Miss Preston's Last Sunday_.
"Tell me the old, old story
Of unseen things above--
Of Jesus and His glory,
Of Jesus and His love."
The light of a lovely Sabbath afternoon in June lay on the rich green
woodlands, still bright with the vivid green of early summer, and
sparkled on the broad river, tossed by the breeze into a thousand
ripples, that swept past the village of Ashleigh. It would have been
oppressively warm, but for the breeze which was swaying the long
branches of the pine-trees around the little church, which from its
elevation on the higher ground looked down upon the straggling
clusters of white houses nestling in their orchards and gardens that
sloped away below. The same breeze, pleasantly laden with the mingled
fragrance of the pines and of the newly-cut hay, fanned the faces of
the children, who in pretty little groups--the flickering shadows of
the pines falling on their light, fluttering summer dresses--were
approaching the church, the grave demeanour of a few of the elder ones
showing that their thoughts were already occupied by the pleasant
exercises of the Sunday school.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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