My boy, with an unstained youth yet before you to mould as you will, get to yourself the elder son's portion--'Thou art ever with Me, and all that I have is thine.' And what GOD has for those who abide with Him, even here, who can describe?
It's worth trying for, lad; it would be worth trying for, on the chance of GOD fulfilling His promises, if His Word were an open question.

How well worth any effort, any struggle, you'll know when you stand where I stand to-night." We had reached the front steps of the house as he said this.

The last few sentences had been spoken in jerks, and he seemed alarmingly feeble.

I shrank from understanding what he meant by his last words, though I knew he did not refer to the actual spot on which we stood.
The garden was black now in the gloaming.

The reflection from the yellow light left by the sunset in the west gave an unearthly brightness to his face, and I fancied something more than common in the voice with which he quoted: "Jesu, spes poenitentibus, Quam pius es petentibus! Quam bonus te quaerentibus! _Sed quid invenientibus_!" But I was fanciful that Sunday, or his nervous "fads" were infectious ones; for on me also the superstition was strong to-night that it was "the last time.".