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CONCL USION.—THE COMMUNION
SUN DA Y.
/'"yN a beautiful Sunday in July I once again sat
down at the foot of the old Iona-cross in the
churchyard of “ the Parish.” It was a day of
perfect summer glory. Never did the familiar
landscape appear more lovely to the eye or more
soothing and sanctifying to the spirit. The Sound
of Mull lay like a sea of glass, without even a
breath of fitful air from the hills to ruffle its
surface. White sails met their own shadows on
the water ; becalmed vessels mingled with gray
islets, rocky shores, and dark bays, diminishing in
bulk from the large brigs and schooners at my
feet to the snow-white specks which dotted the