For the funeral service the following morning, Mr. Carleton, since he was not to preach, selected several passages of Scripture which, read in succession, told the old story of man's sin and God's redemption through Christ; which portrayed the woe of the unbeliever in his death, and the blessed hope of all who fall asleep in Jesus. He was an impressive reader, and as God's word, without comment, fell from his lips, it doubtless went home to the hearts of those who were listening, with greater power than any mere human words could have done. In his prayer, moreover, he thanked God for the faith of the departed--a faith which had survived the most trying experiences of life, and had enabled her, even when every human comfort was wanting, to find joy and consolation in her Lord. He prayed also that the faith of the mother might now become the heritage of her erring children, and be the means which, by God's blessing, should bring eternal life to their souls. Then all that remained of that patient, long-suffering, Christian mother, was borne over to the village cemetery on the hillside, and laid to rest. Her life had been obscure to human eyes, her prayers had not been answered, and yet who would dare say of either, "He looked for fruit, and there was none." "And I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth; yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labors; and their works do follow them." Sunday morning dawned bright and beautiful. It was one of those lovely June mornings when the air is warm and balmy, when everything is green and flourishing, when the birds twitter from branch to branch or sweep down into the grass in search of food, and when all nature seems to praise God, and to invite his praise. Ray was awakened early by one of his brothers, who said: "Here, wake up, old fellow; pop and Jake and I are going down the bay a-fishing, and we want you to go with us." "Well, that's jolly," replied the boy, sitting up in bed. "How long before you'll be off?" "As soon as we can get ready; hurry up!" his brother answered. "But, you see," said Ray, remembering his promise now, "I can't go." "Why not, I'd like to know?" asked his brother. "Because I have promised to be at Sunday-school," answered he, ruefully. "That's a good one." And the brother sat down on the bed and laughed loud and long at the very idea of Ray's giving up a fishing trip to go to a Sunday-school. Catching his breath finally, he suggested: "Tell the parson you hadn't been in so long, that you forgot what day they held it." And again he laughed at his own attempt at wit.