The Albert N'Yanza, Great Basin of the Nile, And Explorations of the Nile Sources

rited horses. The gray-haired coachman had them well in hand, and by no means needed the advice or the assistance of the fat little boy per

een fields, or played bo-peep with the distant cottages, throu

e pressed to him, with her small black-gloved hand laid on his knee, sat a little nine-year-old girl, her sad-coloured suit in strange contrast with the flood of golden hair that streamed from under her hat, and fell in shining waves down

little boy. "What's that that's so like the gingerbread baby Ma

he turned his eyes in the direction p

a roof or a tower, but down on the ground. Slanting out wide at the bottom, to have a firm footing, it

t he had never seen his own country and could hardly speak his own language. Born in Italy, he had now come to Sweden for the f

entured to ask, seeing her father

no tower. The black roof rose high, very high and steep from the thick,

our maternal ancestors are buried, and there their escutcheons stand

the loving eyes of the c

could be called. It was but a small enclosure, and thick set with old monuments and humbler memorials, open books of iron on slender supports, their inscriptions dimmed by the rust of time, small stones set up by loving peasant hands,

silence, and then the father and the chi

nd arches. It looked more like a crypt under some great building than if it were itself the temple. The small windows, crossed by iron gratings, added to the prison-like

rimson-covered platform. On each side of it, at a respectful distance, were two stately monuments, on which two marble heroes were resting, one in full armour, and the other in elaborate court-dress

ed a long wide pew, with a heraldic device on the light arch above the door. Prudently first placi

ttered here and there, and on the organ-loft stairs clattered the th

e had forgotten himself in his own sad thoughts. Her little slender hand sought h

hat the number was the same on both, when Alma caught sight of him. The gentle, loving look in her face changed suddenly to one of sour reproof. She motioned disapprovingly to Frans, and vainly tried to

he sacristy adjoining, and then a murmur of low, hushed v

a little homely bowl and a folded napkin. Beside the table a gray-haired old clergyman had taken his place. I

an, with apparently a very stout woman at his side, c

t cities; she could not suppose that simple household bowl was for a baptism. The broken, disabl

es, and then began the service "for the baptism of a foundling," as the most approp

little brown baby asleep in her arms. Alma's attention w

tismal

t a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God.' We do not know whether this child has been baptized or no, s

orrowful father, and made the mental comment that they had done the best they could under the circumstances.

ng most heartily that he will graciously receive it, and grant it the power of his Spirit unto faith, forgiveness of sins, and true godliness

usual, and the little Nono w

row up in virtue and the fear of the Lord; which promises and resolutions the

little Nono's baptismal procession. Sven, insisting upon kissing the baby then and there, was prudently allowed to do so, to prevent possibly an exhibition of wilfulness that would have been a

been fully absorbed in the baptism of the wee brown baby whose parents had deserted him, and

me on the old monument. Beside it the old clergyman had taken them all by the hand, an

astor mean you and me, too, when he said 'beloved Christians'? We were there, and only a

no longer a very little child, but uncommonly womanly for her age. He suddenly remembered some unchristian peculiarities that were certainly growing upon her. She mus

the thoughts that her question had suggested. That he was not truly one of the "beloved Christians" the father secretly acknowledged to