She raised her arms in a sort of transport, with the same smile of gratitude and purity, and, throwing them round my neck, she said—­

“I have seen him—­it is he—­the man that came with you to the door, and blessed us as he went away—­is the same I saw in my dream—­the same who took little baby in his arms, and said he would take care of him, and give him safely to me again.”

More than a quarter of a century has glided away since then; other children have been given us by the good God—­children who have been, from infancy to maturity, a pride and blessing to us.  Sorrows and reverses, too, have occasionally visited us; yet, on the whole, we have been greatly blessed; prosperity has long since ended all the cares of the res angusta domi, and expanded our power of doing good to our fellow-creatures.  God has given it; and God, we trust, directs its dispensation.  In our children, and—­would you think it?—­our grand-children, too, the same beneficent God has given us objects that elicit and return all the delightful affections, and exchange the sweet converse that makes home and family dearer than aught else, save that blessed home where the Christian family shall meet at last.

The dear companion of my early love and sorrows still lives, blessed be Heaven!  The evening tints of life have fallen upon her; but the dear remembrance of a first love, that never grew cold, makes her beauty changeless for me.  As for your humble servant, he is considerably her senior, and looks it:  time has stolen away his raven locks, and given him a chevelure of snow instead.  But, as I said before, I and my wife love, and, I believe, admire one another more than ever; and I have often seen our elder children smile archly at one another, when they thought we did not observe them, thinking, no doubt, how like a pair of lovers we two were.