fears respecting his wife's steadfastness
seemed likely to be unrealised; for, under the inspiration of her new
life, the home, her children, and herself underwent a thorough
reformation, and her husband began to breathe freely as he marked the
visible signs of the change in his wife's heart. But many a wise head
was significantly shaken, and many a sage tongue whispered: "Bide a
while, and ye'll see it 'll all end i' smooke; Saarah Ann Ibbetson's
looved her coops too weel to gi'e un oop in sooch a hurry."

It was Sunday evening, and Mrs. Ibbetson was seated beside her fireside,
spelling out with great pains the last part of the chapter which had
been read before the sermon at chapel that night. It was the ninth
chapter of St. Mark's Gospel, and she had commenced at the thirtieth
verse, but had not found the passage which had troubled and surprised
her whilst hearing it read; but travelling down the verses with her
forefinger pointing to each line, lest her eye, unaccustomed to the
task, should mislead her, and some of the sacred words be passed over
unread, at last she reached the forty-third verse.

"It's un!" she triumphantly exclaimed.

"Eh, but it's a haard un!" was her verdict when she had finished it; "Aw
'll raad un agaain;" and she read: "And if thy hand offend thee, cut it
off: it is better for thee to enter into life maimed, than having two
hands to go into hell, into the fire that never shall be quenched."

She put the Bible away, and gazing into the fire, mused aloud: "Aw'm
daazed aboot yond text; aw never heeard loike on't; but aw'm thinkin'
it's only fair; if t' reet hand offeends cut un off, and serve un reet
too. T' blessed Looard, He knows all about it, He does, and He'd raather
see His childer waalk inter t' glory wi' one hand than know they'd gone
doon inter yond daarkness wi' their two seenful hands ter burn ter all
'ternity; ay, it's plaain enoogh for a poor eegnorant lass loike mysen
to get un," and having settled the difficult question to her own
satisfaction, without the aid of commentators, Sarah Ann rose and
bustled about getting her husband's supper.

John Ibbetson was hurrying home one night shortly after the above
occurrences pleasantly anticipating the now usual sight of a clean
hearth, a waiting supper, and a welcoming wife; but pushing open the
door he found the room in total darkness, and on striking a light he saw
it was unoccupied.

"Maybe t' lass 'as grown weary and gone ter be