For some time Abe continued working at the coal-pit. Although he made no complaints, he greatly disliked the employment, and looked forward with intense longing to the time when he could again return to his own calling. He told the Lord all his heart upon this subject, and often implored Him to lift him out of the pit and bring him again to the employment that was more congenial to his feelings. Nor did he pray in vain, as the following incident will show:--One day a gentleman came to the pit, and said, "Have you got a man here called Abe Lockwood?" On being answered in the affirmative, he expressed a wish to see him. Abe was at once communicated with, and fetched out of the place where he was working. On seeing him all begrimed with coal-dust, the gentleman said, "I'm sorry to see thee like this, Abe; I have been troubled about thee for some time." "Have you, haa's that, maaster?" "Why, I hardly know, but I have felt for many a day that I ought to come and offer thee work in my place, and now I've come, and if thou wants to leave here, I will find thee something to do in my mill." Abe's grateful heart was almost in his throat; his eyes swam in tears, his face beamed with smiles, and he shouted, "Hallelujah! When mun I come?" "Come at once if you can." "All roight," said he, "I can leave here ony time. I'll come i' th' morning; bless th' Lord! I knew my Father would foind me another job somewhere." That night he went home singing with the usual lump of coal on his head. When he got into the house he threw it down with a crash that startled Sally, his wife. "There," he said, playfully pretending to be vexed, "I'll fetch thee na moor coils on my yead, so thaa needn't expect it." "What's matter wi' the' naa?" she said, looking at him. "I tell the' I'll fetch the' na maar coils," he responded, rubbing his scalp as if it hurt him. "Well then, we may as weel let t' fire goa aat first as last," rejoined the good wife, a little ruffled. "Noa thaa shalln't. I loike a gooid foire as weel as onybody; and if thaa grumbles ony maar, I weant go to th' pit agean." Sally looked hard at him for a moment or two, and in spite of the thick layer of coal-dust on his face, she could see there was a smile just underneath struggling to burst through. "What dost ta mean?" she said, half laughing herself. "Mean!" exclaimed Abe, jumping from his seat, and seizing hold of her hand, "Mean! Why, I mean that I've done with coil-pit; the Lord has gotten me a job in Huddersfield at my own wark, and I'm goin' in th' morning, bless th' Lord!" Sally smiled, wiped her eyes, and said quietly, "Well I niver; aye, but I am glad; come and get thee teaa, my old collier." And that night there was sunshine in Abe's cottage hours after the great orb of day had gone down and left the world in darkness. CHAPTER IX. Salem Chapel.