"No man ever had such long and living power! O, that I could believe what my mother taught me, and pray as I did when I was a boy!" "If Mas'r pleases," said Tom, "Miss Eva used to read this so beautifully.

I wish Mas'r'd be so good as read it.

Don't get no readin', hardly, now Miss Eva's gone." The chapter was the eleventh of John,--the touching account of the raising of Lazarus, St.Clare read it aloud, often pausing to wrestle down feelings which were roused by the pathos of the story.

Tom knelt before him, with clasped hands, and with an absorbed expression of love, trust, adoration, on his quiet face.
"Tom," said his Master, "this is all _real_ to you!" "I can jest fairly _see_ it Mas'r," said Tom.
"I wish I had your eyes, Tom." "I wish, to the dear Lord, Mas'r had!" "But, Tom, you know that I have a great deal more knowledge than you; what if I should tell you that I don't believe this Bible ?" "O, Mas'r!" said Tom, holding up his hands, with a deprecating gesture.
"Wouldn't it shake your faith some, Tom ?" "Not a grain," said Tom.
"Why, Tom, you must know I know the most." "O, Mas'r, haven't you jest read how he hides from the wise and prudent, and reveals unto babes?
But Mas'r wasn't in earnest, for sartin, now ?" said Tom, anxiously.
"No, Tom, I was not.

I don't disbelieve, and I think there is reason to believe; and still I don't.