'—— Thou, O Spirit! who dost prefer,
Before all temples, th' upright heart and pure,'
I consecrate my powers to thee."
The morning breeze, as it blew on his temples, refreshed him. The young birds began to make those faint twitterings beneath the downy breast of the mother, the first faint sound that breaks the mysterious silence of early dawn.
He turned from the window; the rush-light was just expiring in its rude candlestick. He threw himself on his bed, and was soon lost in deep and dreamless slumbers.
CHAPTER III.
"I give thee to thy God,—the God that gave thee
A well-spring of deep gladness to my heart!
And, precious as thou art,
And pure as dew of Hermon, He shall have thee!
My own, my beautiful, my undefiled!
And thou shalt be his child."
While the student sleeps, we will make the reader acquainted with his short and simple annals.
His maternal grandfather had been among the Puritan emigrants who sought the rock-bound coast of New England. He was a man of worth and property, had been educated at Oxford, and distinguished for classical learning and elegant pursuits. But at the call of conscience he left the luxurious halls of his fathers, the rank, and ancestral honors that would have descended to him, to share the hardships, privations, and sufferings of the meanest of his companions. He brought with him his wife and an only child, a daughter of twenty years.