“Oh, Jack! my Jack! If you only knew how I have prayed for this, and what it means to me!” cried Maggie, flinging her arms round her husband as she burst into a very passion of tears—tears of joy, not sorrow. Drawing her head down to the shelter of his breast, John Duncan held his wife very tightly to him, as he said, in a voice which shook with emotion: “You will help me, won’t you, my darling? I want help so much, and we can speak of these things together now. I am groping in the dark yet.” “Nay, John,” said Margaret, smiling through her tears, “I think you are just dazzled with the light. But all the help I can give is yours, you know, my dear one.” Hand in hand, for the first time during their married lives, these two knelt that night at the feet of their heavenly Father, while Margaret prayed for strength and guidance for them both; and John Duncan was not a whit surprised when, in concluding, his wife added a petition for a blessing upon the dear girl who had been God’s instrument in effecting the longed-for change in her husband. “It was just like Maggie,” he reflected, as he helped her to rise from her knees, and thought, as he kissed her, that she had never looked so fair in his eyes. Happiness is a great beautifier, as we all know, and it was a very happy Margaret Duncan who laid her head on her pillow that Easter Eve. (_To be continued._) CHRONICLES OF AN ANGLO-CALIFORNIAN RANCH. BY MARGARET INNES. CHAPTER VI. THE BUILDING OF THE HOUSE—THE WORKMEN—THE COLOURED LADY—AN ILLNESS IN THE BARN. The plans for our house were finished. We had been very fortunate in the choice of our architect, and he had delighted us by working into them, with great taste, all the peculiarly English features, which we had set our hearts upon having, in this far-away Californian home. There was to be a roomy ingle-nook, and large open fire-places, latticed windows with green shutters, and deep window seats, and great overhanging eaves to the roof. On the gables outside we were to have black beams in white plaster, to look like an old farm. To make the housework easier, and also because we liked it, all the rooms were to be on one floor, the whole second storey being one large attic. Finally after many negotiations, the contract was signed, and we began to look daily for the coming of the men. We had learnt to dread the desert wind, which according to tradition, comes along in spells of three, or at most four days, but which we found had a nasty habit of staying longer, leaving one painfully parched, inside and out, body and spirit. At such times we watched anxiously for the great bank of white sea fog, rising up behind the mountains on the west, and always a sign that the fresh sea breeze was coming back to us.