in that sorrow when she reflects what her
poor boy might have been had she never herself broken down his resolve
to renounce entirely that drink which proved his after-ruin. And what
of the Oliphants at the Rectory? Bernard Oliphant still keeps on his
holy course, receiving and scattering light. Hubert is abroad and
prospers, beloved by all who know him.

And Mary, poor Mary, she carries a sorrow which medicine can never heal.
Yet she sorrows not altogether without hope; for, according to her
promise, she never ceased to pray for the erring object of her love; and
she still therefore clings to the trust that there may have been light
enough in his soul at the last for him to see and grasp the outstretched
hand of Jesus. And sorrow has not made her selfish. She has learned to
take a deepening interest in the happiness of others; and thus, in her
self-denying works of faith and labours of love, she finds the
throbbings of her wounded spirit to beat less fiercely. She has gained
all she hopes for in this life, peace--not in gloomy seclusion, but in
holy activity--and she knows that there is joy for her laid up in that
bright, eternal land where the sorrows of the past can cast no shadows
on present glory.

And now let us pass from those who mourn to those who rejoice. It is a
lovely day in early September, and there is evidently something more
than ordinary going on at Fairmow Park. In the village itself there is
abundance of bustle and excitement, but all of the most innocent kind,
for alcohol has nothing to do with it. Old and young are on the move,
but the young seem to be specially interested. In fact, it is the
"Annual Meeting of the Fairmow Band of Hope," which is to gather for
dinner and recreation, as it always does, in the Park. So banners are
flying, and children hurrying to and fro, and parents looking proud, and
all looking happy. But to-day there is to be a double festivity, for
Samuel Johnson and Deborah Cartwright are to be married. Deborah is
staying at John Walters', and Samuel has got a snug little cottage no
great way on the other side of the brook; and not far-off, and a little
nearer to the Hall, is still another cottage, where Old Crow is just
settled with Deborah's mother for housekeeper, for the old man could not
rest content to be so far away from his adopted son Jacob, for he "means
to call him Jacob and nothing else as long as he lives." The old man is
not without money of his own