Clayton hid his face in his hands and wept like a child, the sobs of Piggy Morris and his gentle Mary were heard above the deep but suppressed murmurs of sympathy which ran through the tearful crowd. By-and-bye, “Aud Adam Olliver” arose and said,-- “Mr. Chairman! If ivver there was a man upo’ t’ ’arth ’at was a’most ower ’appy te live, it’s me. Halleluia! Halleluia! Prayse the Lord! an’ let all the people say, Amen.” And they _did_ say it, as if they meant it. Adam proceeded, “Neet an’ day for mair then fotty year, ah’ve bin prayin’ an’ waitin’ te see this day. An’ noo its cum, an’ cum iv a shap’ ’at fair tonns me’ heead wi’ joy. When me an’ mah dear aud Judy com’ here te-day, and ah saw this greeat big tent afoore uz, an’ t’ flags flappin’ on t’ top on it, ah could’nt help sayin’, ‘Judy, mi’ lass! There’s t’ tabernacle there alriddy, an’ t’ temple ’ll be up and oppened afoare Can’lemas-day. Prayse the Lord!’ We’ve had monny a blessed tahme i’ mah lahtle hoose, an’ Maister Houston’s kitchen’s been filled wi’ t’ glory o’ the Lord. Beeath on ’em’s been a Bochim wi’ t’ tears o’ penitent sowls, an’ thenk the Lord beeath on em’s been a Bethel, wheer poor wanderin’ sinners like Jacob hez fun’ the Lord. Ah’ve been thinkin’ o’ t’ good aud sowls ’at’s gone te heaven oot o’ mah lahtle class, since fost it wer’ started, playmaytes an’ cumpanions o’ mahne an’ Judy’s. Why scoores on ’em hez crossed ower Jordan, dry-shod, an’ gone te be for ivver wi’ the Lord. Me an’ Judy’s aboot all there’s left o’ t’ real aud standers. We are like a coople o’ poor, dry trimmlin’ leeaves, still shackin’ upo’ t’ tree i’ winter; when wa’ fall we sall fall as leet as they deea, an’ t’ wind ’at bloas us doon ’ll bloa us up ageean an’ carry us inte Paradise,-- ‘Te flourish in endurin’ bloom Seeaf frae diseeases an’ decline.’ Then there’s that grand victh’ry ’at the Lord’s gi’en us i’ Midden Harbour. Scoores o’ poor sowls ’at’s been liggin’ amang t’ pots hez gotten ‘wings o’ silver an’ feathers o’ yallow gold.’ Prayse the Lord! An’ noo, Mr. Chairman, let’s remember what the Lord said te t’ Israelites when they camped bi’ t’ side o’ Jordan, ’at owerfload its banks i’ harvest-tahme. It seeamed as though they could nivver cross it, it was sae rough an’ sae deep. He said, be’ t’ mooth ov ’is sarvan, Joshua, ‘Sanctify ye’rsens, an’ i’ t’ mornin’ the Lord ’ll work wunders fo’ yo’ l’ an’ sae He will for uz. Noo, Mr. Chairman, ah’ll say nae mair, bud nobbut propooase ’at John Morris’s hoaf-brick be built i’ t’ frunt o’ t’ chapil, i’ sitch a spot ’at ’is bairns an’ their bairns efter ’em may nivver forget hoo the Lord mak’s t’ wrath ov man te prayse Him, an’ hoo He browt John Morris te t’ Sayviour’s feet.”