ving myself been
brought near to Destruction of Body and Soul, which latter may
Christ in His Mercy avert.

"Thus, having eased my mind of great and pressing Anguish, I
commend my soul to God, before Whose Judgment Bar I shall be
presently summoned to stand, the greatest of sinners, yet not
without hope of Everlasting Redemption, for Christ's sake.
Amen.

"AMOS TRENOWETH."

Such was the Will, written on stiff parchment in crabbed and
unscholarly characters, without legal forms or witnesses; but all
such were needless, as I have pointed out. And, indeed, my father
was wise, as I think, to show it to nobody, but go his way quietly as
before, managing the farm as he had managed it during the old man's
last years. Only by degrees he broke from the seclusion which had
been natural to him during his parents' lifetime, so far as to look
about for a wife--shyly enough at first--until he caught the dark
eyes of Margery Freethy one Sunday morning in Polkimbra Church,
whither he had gone of late for freedom, to the no small tribulation
of the meeting-house. Now, whether this tribulation arose from the
backsliding of a promising member, or the loss of the owner of
Lantrig (who was at the same time unmarried), I need not pause here
to discuss. Nor is it necessary to tell how regularly Margery and
Ezekiel found themselves in church, nor how often they caught each
other's eyes straying from the prayer-book. It is enough that at the
year's end Margery answered Ezekiel's question, and shortly after
came to Lantrig "for good."

The first years of their married life must have been very happy, as I
gather from the hushed joy with which my mother always spoke of them.
I gather also that my first appearance in this world caused more
delight than I have ever given since--God forgive me for it!
But shortly after I was four years old everything began to go wrong.
First of all, two ships in which my father had many shares were lost
at sea; then the cattle were seized with plague, and the stock
gradually dwindled away to nothing. Finally, my father's bank
broke--or, as we say in the West, "went scat!"--and we were left all
but penniless, with the prospect of having to sell Lantrig, being
without stock and lacking means to replenish it. It was at this
time, I have since learnt from my mother, that Amos Trenoweth's Will
was first thought about. She, poor soul! had never heard of the
parchment bef