“Soon after this Mr. Wyndham left for England, but before he left he had a long talk with me, and of my plans and hopes for the future.  The result was that I was placed in school, of which there are several, in Lausanne, and began to study with reference to being myself a teacher of his blessed word.  My little Bible I sent to Annette; but my father would not let me come home.  For the last year he has been failing; three months since he took to his bed, and then Annette prevailed upon him to let me come and wait upon him.  I found him greatly changed.  From the first he let me read the Book, as he calls it, and of late I feel that he loves Jesus, and trusts him for the future.  Living upon his labor, it troubles him that he can do nothing; and this was why I was so anxious to go with you yesterday; he likes to think of me as a guide.”

“And I trust you will be a guide,” I said, as we left the table and entered the sick-room, “a guide to lead souls to Christ.  What a blessed privilege!”

“If I can only do it,” and his eyes were full of a holy light.

Annette sat by the bedside; the face of the sick man was as pale as marble, and but for the gentle breathing, we should have thought him already departed.  Franz put on a fresh knot, and the red flame sent a rosy tinge over the apartment.  Sitting before the fire we watched him as he slept, knowing, feeling that it could not be long.  Then a chapter was read, and a prayer went up for strength and guidance.

Franz would not let me watch with him; and leading me into a small room with a clean but somewhat hard bed, left me to myself.  Weary as I was, I could not sleep.  The glory of the day; the sad, sweet history just related; the sick man, with the messenger waiting at the humble door, thrilled me with a feeling that would not rest.  Opening my window, I enjoyed the stillness, the solitude, and the grandeur of the scene:  the glittering dome of Mont Blanc, and all the surrounding and inferior domes and spires and pyramids that cluster in this wondrous region, which fancy might conceive the edifices of some great city, or the towers and dome of some vast minster.  Far above the mountain-tops the moon was shining; while her retinue of stars, seen through the cool crisp air, seemed larger and more beautiful than I had ever before seen them.

It would be impossible to detail all the thoughts that passed, and the emotions that were excited in my mind.  Every object around, beneath, above me seemed in silent but impressive eloquence to celebrate God’s praise; from the moon that led the starry train, from the patriarch of his kindred hills and nearest to the heavenly sanctuary, down to the frozen glaciers and the roaring torrents of the lower valleys, all seemed endowed with a peculiar language—­a voice to touch the heart of man, and to enter into the ear of God.

At length sleep overpowered me, and when I awoke the sun was shining.  Stepping into the outer room I was met by Franz, looking as fresh as though sleep had not been denied him.  Leading me to the bedside, he spoke a few words to his father, while the trembling hand met mine, weak and worn.  I saw that his course was nearly run; but there was a light in his eye that spoke of peace.  Words were of little use.