"Father of Heaven, in Whom our hopes confide,
Whose power defends us, and Whose precepts guide,
In life our Guardian, and in death our Friend,
Glory supreme be Thine till time shall end!"

The sermon was short, and when the service was over Master Isaac and I
spent a delightful afternoon with his bees among the heather. The
"evening star" had come out when we had some tea in the village inn, and
we walked home by moonlight. There was neither wind nor sun, but the air
was almost oppressively pure. The moonshine had taken the colour out of
the sandy road and the heather, and had painted black shadows by every
boulder, and most things looked asleep except the rill that went on
running. Only we and the rabbits, and the night moths and the beetles,
seemed to be stirring. An occasional bat appeared and vanished like a
spectral illusion, and I saw one owl flap across the moor with level
wings against the moon.

"Oh, I _have_ enjoyed it!" was all I could say when I parted from the
bee-master.

"And so have I, Master Jack," was his reply, and he hesitated as if he
had something more to say, and then he said it. "I never enjoyed it as
much, and you can thank your mother, sir, with old Isaac's duty, for
sending us to church. I'm sure I don't know why I never went before when
I was up yonder, for I always took notice of the bells. I reckon I
thought I hadn't time, but you can say, with my respects, sir, that
please GOD I shan't miss again."

I believe he never did; and Cripple Charlie's father came to look on him
as half a parishioner.