"Yes, mother is a grand scholar!" said the good woman proudly. "She reads in the Bible from morning till night, and now she has gotten another book, which a traveling gentleman gave her, who staid here one night. He was one of these new light People—what is this they call them?" "Methodists!" suggested Amabel. "Yes, Methodists! Gaffer Thistlethwaite says, they are only Papists in disguise, and mean to bring in the Pretender, and the Pope. Do you think that can be true, mistress?" asked the woman with some anxiety. "Oh, no!" said Amabel. "They are not in the least like Papists. We know Mr. Wesley very well, and he is a clergyman of the church of England." "I'm heartily glad to hear it!" answered the good woman, evidently much relieved. "The gentleman was that kind and civil spoken, and said such good words, I did not like to think ill of him. He gave mother a book with fine verses in it. Show it to the young ladies, mother." The old woman pulled out a book from her pocket, which turned out to be a volume of Mr. Charles Wesley's hymns, then lately put out. She was wonderfully pleased, when we read some of them to her. I never saw a nicer old woman, and it was a pleasure to see her age made so happy, by the consolations of religion, and the respectful care of her daughter and grandchildren. She was able to spin, she told us, and showed us some very nice thread of her spinning. At last the carriages were ready, and we set out on our travels once more. The second day's journey was much more pleasant than the first, though the roads were no better; for the sun shone brightly, making the poor birds twitter a little in the bushes, and the hips and rowan berries glitter like jewels. For the first two or three hours, Mrs. Philippa chose to ride in the coach, so Mrs. Deborah took to her saddle-horse, while Amabel, Mary Lee, and I, had the smaller carriage to ourselves. We had been gradually rising for some time, and the purple mountains which we had seen ever since the fogs cleared off, seemed to be drawing nearer, so that we could discern the deep valleys and ravines which divided them. Amabel asked Richard what mountains those were. "Those be the Cheviot Hills, miss; you will have heard of them, sure," answered Richard. "On the other side of them hills lies Scotland. We shall soon see the hall now, aye, a long time before we come to it." Accordingly it was not long before Mrs. Deborah, riding to the side of the chaise, pointed out a mansion of considerable size, and built of grey-stone, standing on the hillside which rose in thickly-wooded slopes behind it, dark with fir trees, while higher still it passed into what seemed rocky pastures and moorland. A village church with roofs clustered about it was seen some distance below. "There is your home, children," said she. "See how brightly the sun shines on the old house. I take it as a good omen."