Mr. Halston is trotting along home, thinking over the events of the day and a hundred-and-one other things, when he is startled by the sudden reappearance of old Tom at his side, who, looking rather scared in answer to his inquiry of "What's the matter?" says: "There's been a fearful accident at the pits, sir; my nephew's just come over. Explosion or summat; there's five-and-twenty poor chaps blocked up, 'e do say, and I thought you'd like to know on it." Before Tom has well finished speaking, the Parson is urging his horse at best pace in the direction of the Deep-seam Pit, much to that animal's disgust. He pulls up at the first cottage he comes to, and, calling out a boy, sends him off to Copthorpe with a message to say where he has gone, and they need not expect him home at present, and that his groom is to ride Jerry over at once to take back his hunter. "Look sharp, my lad," says he, tossing the boy a shilling, "and tell James to bring over my bottles with him--port and brandy--he'll know." And again he is on his way. On arriving at the scene of the accident he finds a large crowd of weeping women collected round the pit-mouth, making "confusion worse confused," and seriously interfering with the work of salvation. Amidst the universal grief and terror he is not noticed at first, but when men and women simultaneously recognise him, if ever a man had reason to be proud, surely Mr. Halston is that man, for such a shout is raised of "Here's t' ould Parson; God bless 'un! we knowed 'e'd come; it's right now," as tells him plainly the place he holds in the hearts of these rough men and sorrowing women. "Here, take my horse," says he to one of the men; and as Bell comes up he asks: "What is being done?" "Volunteers for an exploring party," briefly answers the inspector; and Mr. Halston steps forward and addresses the crowd. "My lads," he says, "I am an old man, and perhaps some of you will think it ain't my place to go down; but, thank God, I can still wield a pick with anyone, and with His help we'll get the boys out. No, Mr. Bell," as the inspector tries to dissuade him; "if I ain't much use myself, they'll work all the better for having their Rector with them. And now one word to you, my daughters. You can do no good here. Go home, and get things ready for your husbands against the time we bring them up safe and sound. Now" (to the engineer) "we are ready. Steady, keep your breath for work, lads," as cheer after cheer rends the air; and in a few moments the group of brave volunteers are descending the shaft on their errand of mercy. All through the night they toil, relieving each other in shifts, working as only men can work when the lives of fellow-creatures depend on their exertions. The Parson is everywhere, quiet, calm, and collected, encouraging and directing, yet taking all his share of manual labour.