You cannot think what an awful joy it is to be looking forward to a child; a little soul of God's giving, to be made fit for His eternity.

How shall we do it! we that are both so ignorant, so young--she will be only just nineteen when, please God, her baby is born.

Sometimes, of an evening, we sit for hours on this bench, she and I, talking of what we ought to do, and how we ought to rear the little thing, until we fall into silence, awed at the blessing that is coming to us." "God will help you both, and make you wise." "We trust He will; and then we are not afraid." A little while longer I sat by John's side, catching the dim outline of his face, half uplifted, looking towards those myriad worlds, which we are taught to believe, and do believe, are not more precious in the Almighty sight than one living human soul.
But he said no more of the hope that was coming, or of the thoughts which, in the holy hush of that summer night, had risen out of the deep of his heart.

And though after this time they never again formed themselves into words, yet he knew well that not a hope, or joy, or fear of his, whether understood or not, could be unshared by me.
In the winter, when the first snow lay on the ground, the little one came.
It was a girl--I think they had wished for a son; but they forgot all about it when the tiny maiden appeared.

She was a pretty baby--at least, all the women-kind said so, from Mrs.Jessop down to Jael, who left our poor house to its own devices, and trod stately in Mrs.
Halifax's, exhibiting to all beholders the mass of white draperies with the infinitesimal human morsel inside them, which she vehemently declared was the very image of its father.
For that young father-- But I--what can _I_ say?
How should _I_ tell of the joy of a man over his first-born?
I did not see John till a day afterwards--when he came into our house, calm, happy, smiling.