THE captain, Max, and Lulu were all three early on deck the next
morning--as lovely a May morning as ever was seen. The sun had but just
showed his face above the horizon when Lulu mounted the companion-way to
the deck, but she found her father and brother already there, sitting
side by side, both looking very happy and content.
"Good-morning, papa and Max," she said, hurrying toward them.
The salutation was returned by both in cheery, pleasant tones.
"I thought I'd be the very first on deck; but here you both are before
me," she added as she gained her father's side.
"But pleased to have you join us," he said, drawing her to a seat upon
his knee. "A sweet Sabbath morning, is it not? And how did my little
girl sleep?"
"As well as possible, thank you, papa. It is much cooler here than at
Viamede now, and a delightful breeze came in at the window. But I almost
always sleep well, and that is something to be thankful for, isn't it?"
"It is, indeed," he responded. "May my dear eldest daughter never be
kept awake by the reproaches of a guilty conscience, cares and
anxieties, or physical distress; though that last I can hardly hope she
will escape always until she reaches that blessed land where 'the
inhabitant shall not say, I am sick.'"
"Yes, sir," she said, "I ought to be very thankful that I am so healthy;
I hope I am; but any kind of physical pain I have ever been tried with
is far easier for me to bear than the reproaches of a guilty conscience.
I can never forget how hard they were to endure after I had hurt dear
little Elsie so because I was in a passion."
"I can't bear to think of that time," said Max; "so let us talk of
something else. The view here is lovely, is it not, papa?"
"Oh," cried Lu in surprise, "we are at anchor again in the river at
Annapolis, aren't we, papa?"
"Yes; I brought you all back here in the night, to spend the Sabbath. I
think we will go into the city to church this morning, and have some
religious exercises on the vessel this afternoon and evening."
"Oh, I like that plan, papa," said Max, "especially the afternoon part,
for I am really hungry for one of those interesting Bible lessons with
you for my teacher."
"Yes, Maxie, I pity you that you can't share them with Gracie and me
every Sunday," said Lulu. "Papa, won't you give us--Max and Gracie and
me--a private Bible lesson all to ourselves after the service for the
grown folks, sailors and all, has been held, just as you used to do when
we were all at home at Woodburn?"
"Quite willingly, if my children wish it; indeed, it is what I had
contemplated doing," replied the captain; "for we cannot better employ
the hours of the holy Sabbath than in the study of God's Word, which he
has given us to be a 'lamp to our feet and a light to our path' that we
may journey safely to that happy land where sin and sorrow are unknown.
"Never forget, my children, that we are but strangers and pilgrims upon
this earth, only passing through it on our way to an eternal home of
either everlasting blessedness or never ending woe--a home where all is
holiness, joy, peace, and love, or to that other world of unending
remorse and anguish, 'the blackness of darkness forever.'"
"It is very difficult to keep that always in mind, papa," said Max. "I
hope you will often ask God to help us--me especially--to remember it
constantly, and live, not for time, but for eternity."
"I do, my dear boy; there is never a day when I do not ask my heavenly
Father to guard and guide each one of my dear children and give them a
home with him at last. But we must all strive to enter in at the strait
gate, remembering the warning of Jesus, 'Strait is the gate, and narrow
is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.'"
Violet joined them at that moment, then the rest of the party, one after
another. Then came the call to breakfast; and soon after leaving the
table, and the holding of the regular morning service on the vessel,
nearly everyone went ashore and to church.
At the close of the exercises there, they returned to the _Dolphin_,
dined, a little later assembled under the awning on the deck, and being
presently joined by the greater part of the crew, another short service,
consisting of the reading of the Scriptures, with explanatory remarks,
prayer, and the singing of hymns, followed.
After that, the captain took his three older children aside and gave
them, as in the dear old times at Woodburn, a Bible lesson, in which
they were free to ask of him as many questions as they would.
"Papa," said Grace, "I was reading in Isaiah this morning this verse,
'Therefore, thus saith the Lord God, Behold I lay in Zion for a
foundation, a stone, a tried stone, a precious corner-stone, a sure
foundation.' Does it mean the dear Lord Jesus, papa?"
"Yes, daughter; in both the Old and New Testaments Christ Jesus is
called a Foundation. The foundation of a building is the part that
supports all the rest; and that Jesus is to all his Church, his people.
He is the foundation of all the comforts, hopes, happiness of the
Christian; the foundation of the covenant God has made with his Church;
the foundation of all the sweet and precious promises of God's Word; a
sure foundation on which his people may securely rest, knowing that he
will never deceive, fail, or forsake anyone who trusts in him. He is the
only Saviour, the head of the Church, the only Mediator between God and
man.
"We are not to look too much to our feelings, doings, prayers, or even
our faith, but on the finished work of Christ. We can have assurance of
hope, but must attain to it by resting upon God's word of promise,
remembering that it is Christ's righteousness which God accepts, not
ours, so imperfect, so unworthy of mention.
"In that way only can we have peace and safety, for our own
righteousness is but as filthy rags, exceedingly offensive in the sight
of God, who is 'of purer eyes than to behold sin, and cannot look upon
iniquity,' so utterly abhorrent is it to his holy nature.
"The Bible tells us, 'He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting
life; he that believeth not the Son shall not see life; but the wrath
of God abideth on him.'"
"Papa," said Grace, low and feelingly, "those are dreadful words, 'the
wrath of God abideth on him.'"
"They are indeed," he said. "The one great question is, 'Do you believe
on the Son of God?' There in Egypt, when God sent those plagues upon
Pharaoh and his people, it was not the feelings of the Israelites that
saved them, but the blood on the door-posts, symbolizing the blood of
Christ, which would in future ages be offered to satisfy the demands of
God's broken law; and it was when he saw that blood that the angel
passed over, harming them not.
"The scape-goat too, was a type of Christ bearing the sins of the people
away into the wilderness; if our sins are laid on Jesus they will come
no more into remembrance before our righteous Judge, but covered with
the beautiful robe of his righteousness, God will treat us as if it were
our very own. Ah, my beloved children, it is the dearest wish of your
father's heart that each one of you may have that righteousness put upon
you!"
A slight pause; then Grace said in low, clear, and joyous tones, "Papa,
I think we have. I feel that I do love Jesus and trust in him, and so do
Max and Lulu, I believe."
"I do," said Max with feeling. "I know I am very, very far from
perfect, but I do desire above everything else to be a follower of
Jesus, and known as such; to live near him, and honor him in all my
words and ways."
"My boy, nothing could have made me happier than that confession from
your lips," his father said with emotion. "And it is no less a joy of
heart to me to know that my dear little Grace is a follower of Jesus."
He drew her nearer as he spoke, then turned loving, questioning eyes
upon Lulu.
"Papa," she said in tremulous tones, "I--I feel that I am not worthy to
be called one of Jesus' disciples, but I do love him, and long to grow
in likeness to him. I do ask him very, very often to take away all the
evil that is in me, and make me just what he would have me to be."
"And he will hear your prayer, he will grant your petition," her father
replied in moved tones. "Oh, my dear children, your father's heart is
full of thankfulness that he has reason to hope and believe that you are
all true followers of the blessed Master, and that we may all live and
love together, not in this world only, but also in the next."
To Max that delightful day and evening seemed very short. He was
surprised when his father, glancing at his watch, said, "It is half past
nine, my son. Say good-night and good-by to your friends here, for we
must go back to the Academy. It need not be a very sad parting," he
added, with a smile, "as you may expect to see some, if not all, of us
next month, at the time of the commencement exercises."
"Thank you, papa; that is good news," said the lad, his countenance
brightening very much, "for it is the greatest treat to a fellow to see
home folks once in a while."
"I know that, my boy. I haven't forgotten the feelings of a cadet, which
are pretty much like those of other lads."
The farewells were quickly spoken, father and son entered the waiting
row-boat, and in a few minutes were at the Academy.
Captain Raymond bade his son good-by at the door, reminding him in
cheerful tones that he might hope to see him, and perhaps the entire
Woodburn family, again in a few weeks.
With that pleasant prospect in view, Max went to his room in excellent
spirits. He found Hunt already there.
"Hello, Max! glad to see you back again," he exclaimed in a tone of
hearty good-will. "Had a royal time of it, I suppose?"
"Delightful!" cried Max gayly; "and the best of it is that my father
holds out the prospect of another visit from our whole family at the
time of the June commencement, which you know is not so very far off."
"Well, I must say you're a lucky dog, Raymond," returned Hunt. "I wish I
had the same prospect of seeing my folks; but they're too far off, and
money's too scarce."
Violet was alone on deck when her husband returned to the yacht, the
others having retired to the cabin or their state-rooms.
"Waiting for me, love?" he asked, as he stepped to her side and passed
an arm round her waist.
"Yes," she said; "the air is so pleasant here, and I thought it would be
really delightful for us two to have the deck entirely to ourselves for
a while."
"Nothing could be pleasanter to me, dearest," he said, giving her his
arm and beginning a leisurely promenade.
"And you have left Max at the Academy again?" she said interrogatively.
"How manly he grows, the dear fellow! and so handsome; he's a son to be
proud of, Levis."
"So his father thinks," returned the captain, with a low, happy little
laugh. "My dear boy is one of God's good gifts to me."
"And how evidently he admires and loves his father--as he well may, I
think. He grows more and more like you in looks, too, Levis. I can
imagine that at his age you were just what he is now."
"No, my dear; if I am not much mistaken he is both a handsomer and a
better lad than his father was at the same age."
"Doubtless not half so conceited and vain as his father was then or is
now," she returned, with her low, sweet silvery laugh. "There must have
been a vast improvement, however, before I had the happiness of making
his acquaintance."
"Max's?" he queried with mock gravity.
"The acquaintance of Max's father, sir," she replied demurely. "I have
known the captain now for five years, and can truly say I have never
seen him show such vanity and conceit as you are pleased to charge him
with, or at least to say were once among his attributes; and I will not
have him slandered, even by you."
"Very well, then, let us change the subject of discourse."
"Agreed. How soon do we leave Annapolis to pursue our homeward way?"
"A little after midnight, if that plan suits my wife's wishes."
"Entirely. But you are not going to remain on deck till then?"
"Probably. I feel no inclination for sleep at present, and the air
outside here is, as you remarked a moment since, delightful."
"Especially when enjoyed in such good company, I presume?"
"Yes, that makes a vast difference, of course, yet I can hardly ask you
to stay very long with me; cannot have the cruelty to rob my heart's
best treasure--my young and lovely wife--of her beauty sleep."
"What a gallant speech!" she laughed; "it surely deserves the reward of
at least another half hour of her delectable society. Ah, my best and
dearest of husbands," she added in a more serious tone, "there is
nothing else in the world I so keenly enjoy as these rare times when I
can have you all to myself."
"Yet I cannot believe they are ever more enjoyable to you than to me, my
love," he returned; "sweet as your society was to me in the days of our
courtship, it is, I think, even sweeter now. And I hope mine is not less
enjoyable to you."
"Indeed, no," she said earnestly; "you seem to grow dearer and more
lovable every day that we live together; a blessing far, far beyond my
deserts. Oh, I can never cease to marvel that I have won so great a
prize in the matrimonial lottery."
"It is wondrous strange," he returned, with a happy laugh, "that a
young, beautiful girl, belonging to one of the very best families in the
land, and who might have had her pick and choice among its most
desirable matches, should have been able to secure a middle-aged widower
with three children. You may well wonder at so great good fortune
falling to your lot, lady mine," with a strong emphasis upon that last
word.
"Ah, my husband, you could hardly bestow upon me a sweeter name than
that," she said softly, and with a bright, winsome look up into his
face. "It is so sweet to belong to you, and to have you belong to me.
And then our darling children are such treasures."
"Yes; our two dear babies."
"Ah, yes; but I meant to include the others also; for I surely may claim
now that even Lulu loves me, not as a mother exactly, but as a dear
older sister."
"Yes, I am certain of it, dearest," he said in tones expressing
heart-felt happiness; "she shows it in many ways, and however many and
serious her faults may be, hypocrisy and deceit are not among them."
"No, indeed! I never knew anyone more perfectly free from those
faults--so perfectly open and candid. I am sure that if her life were in
peril she would not be deceitful or untrue in order to save it."
"Thank you, my love," he said with emotion. "I share that belief, and it
has been a great consolation to me when sorely distressed by her very
serious faults."
"But she is overcoming those under her father's wise and affectionate
training."
"I think she is," he said; "she is certainly struggling hard against
them, though the training you speak of, has, I fear, been far from
faultless."
"Ah, you have not so much confidence in her father's wisdom as I have,"
returned Violet, with a smile and a look up into his face which
expressed a world of loving appreciation.
The conversation then turned upon other themes not unsuited to the
sacredness of the day; they seated themselves and sang a hymn or two
together, then Violet went below and sought her berth, to be followed an
hour later by her husband.