The fair speaker paused awhile as every eye was earnestly fixed on the scene, then went on, as if speaking the thought of every bosom. “Truly ‘this may be said to be the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.’ What power but that of almighty wisdom could suddenly put forth a celestial emblazonment like that? What architect could design such a wondrous and portentous portal to imperial city or palace? What painter could suffuse it with hues and glories so divine? Yet, such is the prodigality of the Omnipotent Artist, who has sent forth, in a moment almost, that glorious vision, that in a few moments He will suffer it to depart, as if it were of no value. We, or most of us, visit the galleries of great painters; we gaze in enthusiasm on the imitations of nature which they hang upon our walls, and decree immortality to them for their inspired achievement; yet the King of artists every day spreads before our eyes, and the eyes of the simplest and the poorest, landscapes and aerial paintings which no mortal hand can ever equal, and no man lays it to heart. The peasant, returning home at this hour along some solitary vale, sees a picture such as no so-called immortal master ever accomplished, such as no king’s house can boast. Yet we feel no wonder; we utter no praise. Behold! and the marvellous scene is gone!” All again turned, and saw but a grey, dull sky, and below the solemn gloom deepened into intense blackness. The speaker paused; her fair, finely-developed face, seemed rapt as into an ecstasy, still and passionless; it was as if the inner eye looked spirit-like through the outer, and saw deep into the looming night of the western quarter. A deep sigh escaped her, and with softer and strangely thrilling tones, she said, “I feel it, dear friends, laid solemnly upon me to utter words which seem not to befit a day of gladness. My spirit wrestles with it, and would flee from the burden, as the Hebrew prophet fled from the burden of Nineveh; but a mightier, holier power compels me, and I must obey.” A strange shudder passed through the youthful listeners, and Letty, greatly excited, half sprang up and cried, “Oh, don’t! don’t!” But George quietly held her down, and put his arm round her, clasping her with brotherly affection. The speaker, as if unconscious of the sensation she had evoked, went on. “Beautiful, very beautiful was yonder sky; beautiful, very beautiful are the days which have passed here. Dark, however, the gloom which underlay that glory of colours. I feel some of us, perhaps many of us, perhaps all, more or less, baptised into that darkness. We are passing deep into its shadowy regions. We are pilgrims and wayfarers through the valley of the shadow of death, through the midnight wastes of blackness and despair. Oh! thou heavenly and tender Father! extend thy omnipotent hand. Lift us over the torrents rolling through the deep, deep darkness; bear us up in thy loving, unforsaking arms!”