John Morris, to be known as Black Morris no more for ever, pursued his chosen occupation with much diligence. He studied hard, gaining wisdom and experience in his profession, until his services as a veterinary surgeon were in continual request. He found a fitting partner in Hannah Olliver. As fellow-labourers in the Sunday-school, their friendship had ripened into love, and that once dressy, but always good-looking, damsel made him a wife of whom he was justly proud. Bob and Dick Morris, aided by Pete Olliver and Philip Fuller, were enabled to regain their father’s farm at Eastthorpe. Here Mrs. Morris, senior, found unfailing pleasure in the oversight of the familiar dairy of her younger years. Jake Olliver mated with the maiden whom, despite the ghost of Nestleton Abbey, he had paid many a late visit to Cowley Priory to see. As the hind on Mr. Houston’s wold farm, he began his married life under sunny auspices, and had no more of cloudy weather than usually falls to mortal lot. Of the Houston family, I have little to say. That good man and his estimable wife lived to old age, and were succeeded by still another Houston; there is indeed every probability of the farm being handed down in connection with the Houston name for ever. It will interest my readers to know that the Rev. Matthew Mitchell secured the lovely Grace in bonds which only death could loosen. Impelled by a spirit of zeal for his Master’s cause, Mr. Mitchell became a missionary, with the hearty good-will of his devoted wife. Should these village annals find acceptance, I may venture to tell the story of these two brave souls, and of the mission which they established beneath the mango and the palm. The Rev. Theophilus Clayton, after a few more years spent in active work, became a supernumerary. He settled down at Nestleton in response to Philip Fuller’s earnest invitation. That open-handed friend of the Lord’s servants rendered his declining years exceptionally pleasant. Methodism has yet much to learn in the way of just or generous treatment of those who have spent their lives and exhausted their strength in her service. The pitiful pittance she doles out to them often amounts to semi-starvation. This grudging policy reacts mischievously on the Church, in forcing feeble men to occupy the posts of onerous duty, and also in depriving the time-worn toiler of the quiet repose which would lengthen life and perpetuate, at least, a portion of their Church activities.