the light hearts, the tender fragility of childhood, crowded round the infants, smoothing their rugged brows and composing their bearded lips to kindly and fostering smiles:  and then the old man opened the scroll and he taught the infants to repeat after him that beautiful prayer which we still dedicate to the Lord, and still teach to our children; and then he told them, in simple phrase, of God’s love to the young, and how not a sparrow falls but His eye sees it.  This lovely custom of infant initiation was long cherished by the early Church, in memory of the words which said, ’Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not’; and was perhaps the origin of the superstitious calumny which ascribed to the Nazarenes the crime which the Nazarenes, when victorious, attributed to the Jew, viz. the decoying children to hideous rites, at which they were secretly immolated.

And the stern paternal penitent seemed to feel in the innocence of his children a return into early life—­life ere yet it sinned:  he followed the motion of their young lips with an earnest gaze; he smiled as they repeated, with hushed and reverent looks, the holy words:  and when the lesson was done, and they ran, released, and gladly to his knee, he clasped them to his breast, kissed them again and again, and tears flowed fast down his cheek—­tears, of which it would have been impossible to trace the source, so mingled they were with joy and sorrow, penitence and hope—­remorse for himself and love for them!

Something, I say, there was in this scene which peculiarly affected Apaecides; and, in truth, it is difficult to conceive a ceremony more appropriate to the religion of benevolence, more appealing to the household and everyday affections, striking a more sensitive chord in the human breast.

It was at this time that an inner door opened gently, and a very old man entered the chamber, leaning on a staff.  At his presence, the whole congregation rose; there was an expression of deep, affectionate respect upon every countenance; and Apaecides, gazing on his countenance, felt attracted towards him by an irresistible sympathy.  No man ever looked upon that face without love; for there had dwelt the smile of the Deity, the incarnation of divinest love—­and the glory of the smile had never passed away.

‘My children, God be with you!’ said the old man, stretching his arms; and as he spoke the infants ran to his knee.  He sat down, and they nestled fondly to his bosom.  It was beautiful to see that mingling of the extremes of life—­the rivers gushing from their early source—­the majestic stream gliding to the ocean of eternity!  As the light of declining day seems to mingle earth and heaven, making the outline of each scarce visible, and blending the harsh mountain-tops with the sky, even so did the smile of that benign old age appear to hallow the aspect of those around, to blend together the strong distinctions of varying years, and to diffuse over infancy and manhood the light of that heaven into which it must so soon vanish and be lost.