"Whether he ever comes back to me or not is of little consequence, ma'am," she said, as Marion was trying to comfort her. "I don't think I shall live many years, but, oh, I do long for him to know how God can comfort people! What would I do now, ma'am, if I were without Christ, as I once was? If poor Joe only had Christ, he would be happier than he ever was in his life, even though he is in his cell." The last was said with a piteous sob, which went to the listener's heart far more than the loudest wails. And here we must leave our humble friend. We know that God did fill her heart with such thoughts of Himself, of His pitying tenderness toward all His creatures, that she was comforted under the bitterest sorrow a Christian can be called to endure,—the unworthiness of those we love. We leave her to the gracious sympathizing Saviour. Glancing forward a few years, I am sure the reader will be pleased to learn that Neddy Carter is fulfilling the promise of his childhood. Meeting him in the street, one would never imagine that he is indebted to artificial supports for his ability to go from place to place, while his clear, brown eyes, looking you so straight in the face, his open brow, and abundant, wavy locks, interest the most casual observer. If he were asked, "Who is the happiest youth in this great city?" he would, without hesitation, answer,— "It would be hard to find a happier boy than I am since my mother goes with me regularly to church." He is and will be for years to come a protégé of Mr. Lambert, who has given over a sum of money to proper guardians for the purpose of educating him. The library building is finished, the shelves are lined with books selected by the pastor, who is the chairman of the library association, and a company of ladies and gentlemen appointed for the purpose. The hall above, forty feet by sixty, is fitted up with a curtain, foot-lights, etc., but can never be used except with the consent of Mrs. Marion Howard Angus. After many discussions, the name "Howard Hall" is conspicuous over the desk, but our old friend Marion is eager to assure every one who points to it that it is a memorial, not to herself, but to her father. A very pleasant circumstance in connection with the library is that Mary Falkner, now confirmed in health and activity, was unanimously chosen librarian, with a salary large enough to support herself and her mother. One more scene, and I have done. Accompany me, dear reader, up this smoothly gravelled walk to the elegant mansion at the summit of Church Hill. Notice as you pass that luxurious vine winding itself so lovingly around the pillars. The slip from which it has grown was brought by Mr. Angus from the old Ingleside homestead.