The scenery of the most brilliant theatre of the world was only a painting for children compared with this.  Meantime, the multitude, with the highest excitement of social feeling, added to the general enthusiasm of expectation, was passing from tent to tent interchanging apostolic greetings and embraces, while they talked of the approaching solemnities.  A few minutes sufficed to finish the evening’s repast, when the moon (for they had taken thought to appoint the meeting at the time of the full moon) began to show its disc above the dark summits of the distant mountains, while a few stars were seen glimmering in the west.  Then the service began.  The whole constituted a temple worthy of the grandeur of God.  An old man in a dress of the quaintest simplicity ascended a platform, wiped the dust from his spectacles, and, in a voice of suppressed emotion “lined the hymn,” of which that vast multitude could recite the words, to be sung with an air in which every voice could join.  Every heart capable of feeling thrilled with emotion as that song swelled forth, “Like the sound of many waters, echoing among the hills and mountains.”  The service proceeded.  The hoary-haired orator talked of God, of eternity, of a judgment to come and all that is impressive beyond.  He spoke of his experiences and toils, his travels, his persecutions and triumphs, and how many he had seen in hope, in peace and triumph gathered to their fathers.  When he spoke of the short space that remained for him, his only regret was that he could no longer proclaim, in the silence of death, the unsearchable riches and mercies of his crucified Redeemer.

No wonder, as the speaker paused to dash the gathering moisture from his own eye, his audience was dissolved in tears, or uttered exclamations of penitence.  Many who prided themselves on an estimation of a higher intellect and a nobler insensibility than the crowd caught the infection, and wept, while the others, “who came to mock remained to pray.”

In due time a schoolhouse was erected on the banks of the creek a mile away from the house of Albert Stevens.  Fernando was sent with the older children.  Mrs. Creswell the teacher had no end of trouble with the little fellow, whose ideas of liberty were inconsistent with discipline, and who insisted on reclining on the floor instead of sitting on a bench.  He became hungry and despite the fact that his preceptress had forbidden “talking out loud” declared that he wanted something to eat.

“Wait a bit,” answered the teacher.  “We will have recess by and by.”

“Is recess something to eat?” he asked.