“Ah’s varry mitch obliged te yo’,” quoth Adam, “bud speeach-mackin’ at tahmes like theease is altegither oot o’ mah line. Ah will say this, hooivver, ’at Nestleton nivver saw sitch a day as this afoore, an’ ah deean’t think ’at it’s ivver likely te see sitch anuther. Mah poor aud een’s run a’most dry wi’ tears o’ grattitude an’ joy. Nestleton’s getten a chapil, an’t’ yung squire’s getten Lucy, an’ t’ aud squire’s getten a dowter withoot a marro’, an’ Nathan Blyth’s getten a son ’at owt te mak’ ’im stand three inches bigger iv his shoon; an’ what Nestleton’s getten i’ hevin’ ’em all ’ll be a blessin’ tiv it for ivver an’ ivver. As for me an’ Judy, we’ve nobbut gotten yah wish left, an’ that’s te see Pete ageean. But that’s as the Lord will. Ah’s an aud man, an’ me’ wark’s deean. Ah’ve hed te hing up me slashin’-knife an’ hedgin’-gluvs, an’ ah’s just waitin’ quietly te gan when t’ Maister calls ma’. Ah pray ’at t’ yung cupple may be varry happy, an’ ah’s seear they will, for-- ‘’Tis religion ’at can give Reeal pleasure while we live;’ an’, prayse the Lord, they hev it, beeath on ’em. Ah wop they’ll hae their quiver full ov bonny bairns, an’ bring ’em up i’ t’ fear o’ God: an’ efter a lang an’ ’appy an’ useful life, ’at they’ll end their days i’ peeace, an’ gan te be for ivver wi’ the Lord; for-- ‘’Tis religion can supply Solid cumfort when we die.’ May God bless ’em, an’ bless t’ aud squire, an’ bless uz all. Amen!” Old Adam’s words were felt to be a benediction, and a deep and earnest “Amen!” arose to float the old man’s prayer to heaven. The day was fitly wound up with another service in the new chapel, when a sermon was preached by a minister of mighty name and fame from London, who had come to aid them in the dedication of their holy and beautiful house of prayer. So ended a day, which will long be remembered in the annals of Waverdale, as the day of “Nestleton Chapel opening and Lucy Blyth’s wedding!” CHAPTER XL. AN EPISODE IN A METHODIST LOVE-FEAST. “While listening to the tale Her spirits faltered and her cheeks turned pale; While her clasped hands descended to her knee, She, sinking, whispered forth, ‘O God! ’tis he!’ * * * * * The long-lost found, the mystery cleared, What mingled transports on her face appeared! The gazing veteran stood with hands upraised-- ’Art thou indeed my son? then God be praised!’” _Blomfield._