Nelly clasped the "strange baby" to her heart and murmured--"God help us!" Just at that moment, there came a knock at the cabin door--she opened it and dropped a respectful curtesy. It was the Earl, and a gentleman in mourning, who as soon as he saw the baby that Nelly held, caught it in his arms and began kissing it, and weeping over it, crying out that he had found his boy! The Earl explained that the stranger was a kinsman of his, a Scotch Laird, whose wife had been lost in the wreck, a few weeks before, while on her way to visit her relatives at the castle, with her child and servants. He said, they had not received the letter announcing her coming--so had not thought of looking for friends among the drowned and burned who were washed ashore after the wreck; but they had heard of the child so miraculously saved, and hoped that it might be their kinsman's son. When Nelly fully realized that she must lose her adopted child, she fell at the feet of the father, crying with tears and sobs,--"Oh, sir, I cannot let him go! I warmed him out of the death-chill at my heart--I gave him my own dead darling's place! It will kill me, just, to part with him!" "And you shall not part with him, my good woman," said the Laird--"the child must have a nurse--he should have none but you. I will take you and your husband with me to Scotland, if you will come!" So, to make a long story short, the poor schoolmaster and his wife were provided with a comfortable home for the rest of their days, for their kindness to the little shipwrecked boy, who was always dear to them, and always returned their love. Many others may adopt poor foundlings and care for them tenderly, and yet never have rich lords come to claim their charges and reward them so generously; but the Lord of all will not fail to ask for his "little ones" at last,--and to those who do good to "the least of these" He has promised rewards more glorious than the greatest earthly monarch could give--and _He will keep his word_. * * * * * Here end my stories and legends of dear old Ireland. I returned from visiting the Causeway, to Belfast, from which place, after a few weeks of rest and quiet social enjoyment, I passed over to Scotland. And now, may I not hope that all the dear young readers who have gone with me thus far, in my wanderings, will wish to bear me company yet further? In another volume, I will describe what I saw, and tell appropriate histories and legends of the rugged, but beautiful land of Wallace and Bruce--of Burns and Scott. So, for the present, I will only bid you a _short_ farewell--or as the French say, when they part with the hope of meeting again--_au revoir_. GRACE GREENWOOD.