AMERICAN LUXURY. 95 



Sabbath sunshine, falling among the pearls of the Fall, and 

 reflected to our eyes in the effulgence of the bow of prom- 

 ise, is only a faint type, worthy of being such only because 

 both are his glory who made both. Let us thank God that 

 the promise is as unfailing as its glorious seal, on passing 

 thunder cloud, on April tears, on the cataract's bosom, on 

 the gleaming waterfall, that sits on the rock and laves her 

 flashing feet in the pool below, forever sure, in tears or 

 laughter, sun or storm, the promise that there shall be no 

 more flood. Oh man, clinging to the last stem of hope 

 while the stream of life rushes tumultuously downward, 

 hear the voice of promise ! Oh man, whose eye is dim 

 with watching, seated alone and lonesome on the wreck 

 of life, while the tide rises and the waves swell around, 

 know that though the tempest be furious, there shall be 

 no more flood ! Abraham Stewart found the promise sure, 

 and when the flood was gathering, he smiled, and when he 

 lay dead there was a smile on his face that did not seem 

 to rest there, but it was as if the light of heaven, shining 

 on it, were now and then intercepted by the swift wings 

 of attending angels. 



As the night came clown we went home and dined. 

 What would life be, in cottage or camp, in labor or sport, 

 without dinner? 



" What a luxurious race we Americans are getting to 

 be," said Steenburger, as we sat smoking in the library, 

 where a cheery fire made the atmosphere conversational. 

 "We surpass the days of that splendid extravagance in 

 Rome, which history seems to regard as unequaled. Look 

 at it. We have dined together here, and it was a plain, 

 ordinary dinner. We had a piece of lamb from the home 

 farm, but I think that was the solitary American dish on 

 the table. The spices were of all the world ; the sauces 



