The reformation of Midden Harbour was a congenial task to Philip and his wife. One after the other the old ricketty cottages were pulled down and others built, healthy, comfortable, and commodious. The place was effectively drained, gardens were laid out, an abundance of trees and shrubs were planted, the pathways were paved, and the whole appearance of the place was so thoroughly revolutionised as to have lost its identity. The inhabitants, most of whom were members of the Methodist society, drew up a round robin, and presented it to their new landlord, with a unanimous request that the old name, once sufficiently descriptive of its unsavoury condition, should be changed for some other which should be more in harmony with the new and happy condition of things. It was some time before its youthful owners could hit upon a satisfactory title; at last they decided to call it Kasper Grove, and so to hand down to posterity the name of the old man to whom it was indebted for its transformation. Midden Harbour was defunct, swept out of existence, but Kasper Grove continues to this day, and holds a place among the lions of Nestleton quite as attractive as the ancient abbey or Saint Madge’s Well. * * * * * My story now draws nigh to a conclusion, but I must give my readers just a final glimpse at the principal actors in the village history I have tried to chronicle. Nathan Blyth transferred his business to a son of Jabez Hepton, who had been taught his handicraft by Nathan himself, and was said to possess much of the skill and cunning for which his master had long been famous, and which had brought so much of profit, that in Nathan’s prudent hands, it had made him independent of the anvil. That good man was able to retire on a comfortable competency and to devote his time to tending the olive plants that soon began to grow round Lucy’s table, to active evangelic service in the Kesterton Circuit, for as a preacher he was in great request, and to give pleasure and delight to the old squire, who found in him an intelligent and congenial companion, well read in that sacred lore which was now Squire Fuller’s favourite study. Nathan retained his old house, in which also Harry Hepton and his young wife resided and cared for his creature comforts. He didn’t spend much time there, as may be well imagined, but still, like a wise man, he kept his household goods around him, and lived as happily as most mortals may. Though he had forsaken the anvil’s musical clink, he did not, by any means, give up singing. His grand tenor voice, mingling with Lucy’s musical treble and the tones of the piano, out of which her magic fingers evolved sweetest harmonies, formed an unfailing attraction to the happy inmates of Waverdale Hall.