interpreter translated sentence by sentence into Coptic, for the benefit of the native Egyptians. When he had finished reading, he explained the words in familiar and earnest language, comparing them with others from the same source, and pressing them on the hearts of his hearers, to be carried home, he said, and lived on. The whole assembly responded from time to time to the prayers. They prayed, and sang, and listened, standing, because it was the resurrectionday, and they were disciples of Him who had raised the fallen; and the whole service, the sacred day itself, the very lives of the believers, were to be an eucharistic resurrection-feast-a living witness to His resurrection. But what struck Cleon most was the singing; the low chant rising, he could scarcely tell whence, and swelling from different parts of the room, until all joined in a joyful chorus,-not tumultu ous, like the heathen songs of triumph, but calm and thrilling as a hymn of rest, after toil, sung by a family reunited in their father's house. To Cleon, too, the sounds came with overpowering sweetness; for, besides his own new and deep sympathy in the words, they seemed to bring back to him the songs his sister Alce had sung in his own home in Greece. After the last hymn had been sung, many brought offerings of bread and wine and money, for the poor of the flock, to Isidore, who laid them on the table before him, offering them to God in the name of the whole church-the royal priesthood consecrated to offer spiritual sacrifices. Before the communion, according to the custom which crept so early into the Church, and gave occasion for so many scandals amongst the heathen about the "Christian mysteries," the listeners and candidates for baptism withdrew. Cleon waited in the garden-court until the assembly should disperse and give him an opportunity of speaking to Isidore. As he paced the court, two little children came bounding into it, chasing each other. They paused suddenly on seeing the stranger, and were making their escape, when Cleon caught the foremost and detained her. He was one of those people whom children seem intuitively to love, and the little creature let him seat her on his knee, and soon she began to prattle quite confidentially. Her brother, who seemed a year older, stood silently beside them, mounting guard over her. "There were three of them," she said, "Dioscoros, and Philip, and herself. She was very fond of Philip, but Dioscoros was the dearest of all; he made playthings for her, and was so gentle and so good." "Where is he now ?" Cleon asked. "He is gone to the feast," she replied. The little girl looked wonderingly at him. "The feast of the blessed Jesus," she replied, with childish reverence. "Do you not go, then?" Cleon asked. "No," interposed Philip, "my mother says we are too little." "But we know about Jesus," continued the little girl; "my mother and Dioscoros have told us, and we love Him indeed very much, although we may not go to His feast yet. Do you love Him?" "I do," he replied, stroking her hair. A question seemed on her lips, but she stopped, and coloured. He answered her look: "I shall join that feast too, before long." And, after a short pause, he added, "But what can you know about the Lord Jesus, my child?" "He came from heaven that He might make us happy," she said; "He is the Good Shepherd, and little children are His lambs, and He carries them in His bosom, and loves them; and when we sleep, He watches over us and blesses us." 66 66 "You are not afraid, then, of the darkness?" "O no!" she said, smiling, "for, you know, He can see." Cleon did not answer, but he took the child's lesson to his heart. "What do they call you, my child?" he asked at length. "Alce," she said; "it is my mother's name.' A suspicion flashed across Cleon: the strangely familiar voice-the earnest, inquiring look of the wife of Isidore-the half-remembered hymns— and now the child's name!-the electric chain seemed complete-and yet he hardly dared trust that it was so. Just then Isidore joined them, followed by his wife. They both greeted him affectionately. 66 Have you decided?" Isidore asked. "I have," was the reply. "I am a Christian, and desire to seem so." Isidore embraced him cordially, and his wife gave him her hand-and again her soft, earnest eyes rested on him, with the look of wistful questioning he had before remarked. "Are you a Greek?" Cleon asked, abruptly. "I am," she said. "Was your home ruined by the Romans?" 66 66 It was," she replied. And you yourself bound, and carried into captivity?-forgive the question." “I was,” she answered; "they carried me to Egypt"-and seeing how eagerly he hung upon her words, she continued-" Bishop Dionysius and the church of Alexandria ransomed me, from love to our common Lord, and soon after I married. My husband and I lived many years in Syria, and we only returned to Alexandria a few months since." 66 Had you a brother?" asked Cleon, anxiously. "I had-I had!" she exclaimed. 66 'And you loved and tended him like a mother, and sang Christian hymns beside his cradle?" F |