piece of oratory; the speaker knew his subject and handled it courageously, and as it proceeded John began to understand that the pool of water was not an ordinary adjunct to the service, but that he was about to witness the rite peculiar to the Baptist denomination. His attention was held throughout; but when the minister had descended from the pulpit and was standing by the water, his heart gave a great bound. A girl who had been sitting in one of the pews, and whose face had been hidden from him by other people, quietly went to the side of the pool. “Margaret does look lovely to-night,” whispered some one behind him; and the next moment the girl lifted her eyes, luminous with some mysterious exultation, and they met his own. What happened after that he scarcely knew. As soon as he could he left the place and started across the fields to his home. “It was no use sending me away,” he said. “The boy’s love is living yet. Margaret, Margaret, have you forgotten? I never shall forget, and you are all the world to me still.” But he looked and felt much more troubled than glad as he thus uttered his thought. CHAPTER III. A SUNDAY IN LONDON. To be in London at any time is an experience that is worth having; for all good things seem to tend to this wonderful city, which is the very heart of the world! What might of power and influence it possesses! What vivid life of all kinds exists in it! Some people say it is not beautiful as Paris, Brussels, and other cities are; but they are surely mistaken. It has a beauty and a homeliness that is all its own. No parks are more green; no streets are more interesting. To Arthur Knight, as he drove from West to East on his arrival, it seemed to him the fairest, as it was certainly the dearest, of all the world. The trouble that had been put into his mind by Hancourt, though a very personal one, could not absorb his thoughts as he looked upon his fellow-countrymen in the crowded thoroughfares. “If London were Christian, there would be hope of the whole world,” he said; and his was the dream of how many devout souls beside! With his strong heart full of the enthusiasm of youth, he did not for a moment consider the dream to be impossible of realisation. And with the same buoyant hopefulness he thought that something which he had to say would hasten that consummation. He passed by the dwellings of the rich, and, measuring others by himself, he peopled them with young men who were ready to live or die in the true service of their country. He believed that the time had come for the new aristocracy to assert itself—the aristocracy of character and helpfulness—the nobility of the future, whose destiny it is to rule the world with righteousness. “This little island ought to be full of friends,” he said, echoing the thought of one of England’s greatest teachers. But when he reached the East-end the awful contrasts of the metropolis impressed and saddened him.