Round the table are grouped Felix, his wife and little Ned. In a cradle near by lies a baby boy born in the New Republic; his name is Victor, and he is the pet of Genieve, whose cottage, much like this, stands not fur away. Through the open lattice Felix sits and looks out upon his fields. It is a small farm, but it yields him a bountiful support. He and Hester have all they want to eat, drink, and wear, and their children are bein’ educated, and they are _free_. The vision that Genieve saw in the sunset light at Belle Fanchon has not fully come yet, but it is comin’, it is comin’ fast. Little Victor may see it. Genieve and Felix and Hester write to us often, and specially to Thomas Jefferson, who has been able to help the colony in many ways, and wuz glad to do it. For Thomas Jefferson, poor boy, though I say it that mebby shouldn’t, grows better and better every day; but then I hain’t the only one that sez it. He found poured out into his achin’ heart the baptism of anguish that in such naters as hisen is changed into a fountain of love and helpfulness towards the world. His poor, big, achin’ heart longed to help other fathers and mothers from feelin’ the arrow that rankled in his own. His bright wit become sanctified into more divine uses. His fur-seein’ eyes tried to solve the problems of sad lives, and found many a answer in peace and blessedness for others that reflected back into his own. More and more every day did the memory of little Snow, so heart-breakin’ at first, become a benediction to him, and a inspiration to a godlier livin’. He could not entertain a wilful sin in the depths of the heart where he felt them pure, soul-searchin’ eyes wuz lookin’ now. He couldn’t turn his back onto the Belovéd City, where he felt that she wuz waitin’ for him. No, he would make himself worthy of bein’ the father of an angel. He must make his life helpful to all who needed help. And to them that she felt so pitiful towards, most of all the dark lives full of sin and pain, he must help to light up and sweeten by all means in his power. And Maggie felt jest like him, only less intenser and more mejum, as her nater wuz. Thomas Jefferson and Maggie jined the Methodist meetin’ house on probation, the very summer after little Snow left them. And, what wuz fur better, they entered into such a sweet, helpful Christian life that they are blessin’s and inspirations to everybody that looks on and sees ’em. To Raymond and Robbie they give the wisest and tenderest care. The poor all over Jonesville, and out as fur as Loontown and Shackville, bless their names. And at Belle Fanchon, where they always lay out to spend their winters, their comin’ is hailed as the comin’ of the spring sun is by the waitin’ earth.