During the last two sentences the speaker’s voice had faltered, and under the influence of deep feeling he spoke in tones such as can never be mistaken by a mother’s ear. They fell like a revelation on Judith Olliver; rising from her seat she turned fully round, looked the speaker in the face, and crying, “It’s mah Pete! mah bairn!” flung her arms around her boy, and buried her grey head upon his shoulder, murmuring the endearing words she used long years ago when she held him on her knee. The congregation rose upon their feet in strong excitement; Mr. Clayton, who was in the secret, brushed aside his tears, and Old Adam Olliver, pale and silent with excess of joy, walked across the chapel floor to greet his long absent son. “Adam!” said the mother, smiling through her tears, “thoo said he would come, an’ here he is!” The old hedger took the hand of his stalwart son, and shook it a long while in an eloquent silence, his face working, his lips quivering in his earnest efforts to keep back the gush of feeling, but all in vain, it would come; throwing himself up on his boy’s brawny breast, he burst into tears of joy. Recovering himself, he said,-- “God bless tha’, mah lad! God bless tha’!” Then lifting up his hands, he said, amid the hush which waited on his words, “‘Noo, Lord, lettest Thoo Thi’ sarvant depayt i’ peeace, for me ees hae seen Thi’ salvaytion!” Mr. Clayton gave out the “Doxology,” which was sung as only they can sing who feel every word of it. He offered an earnest thanksgiving for the wanderer’s safe return, and commended the people to the Divine keeping, and so ended the memorable love-feast which is remembered and spoken of in Nestleton to this day. Farmer Houston was standing by the door to welcome Pete, and to congratulate his parents on their boy’s return. “Maister,” said Old Adam, “you see Pete was i’ t’ ‘pattern’ all t’ tahme, an’ we didn’t knoa; ‘This is the Lord’s deein’, an’ it’s marvillous i’ wer ees.’” CHAPTER XLI. THE REVOLUTION IN MIDDEN HARBOUR. “O happy home! where man and wife in heart, In faith and hope are one, That neither life nor death can part The holy union here begun. O happy home! where little voices Their glad hosannas love to raise; And childhood’s lisping tongue rejoices To bring new songs of love and praise.” _Spitta._