ceived the miracle; that these corpses, as they
lay in the posture, so bore the very likeness of the two lovers on my
sculptured slab. But I remember that, as John and Grace Magor
screamed back and clung to me, and as by the commotion of them
clutching at my knees the lantern fell and was extinguished, I heard
the young man Luke say, "Yourselves, yourselves!"

'I called to him to pick up the lantern; but he did not answer, and
the two clinging wretches encumbered me. After a long while the
clouds broke and the moon shone through them; and where he had stood
there was no one. Also the slab of rock was dark, and the two
drowned corpses had vanished with him. I pointed to it; but there
was no tinder-box at hand to light the lantern again, and in the
bitter weather until the dawn the two clung about me, confessing and
rehearsing their sins.

'I have great hopes that they are brought to a better way of life;
and because (repent they never so much) no one is any longer likely
to recognise in these penitents the originals upon whom it was
moulded these many years ago, I am determined to move the statuary to
a place in the S. aisle of our parish church, as a memorial, the
moral whereof I have leave of John and Grace Magor to declare to all
the parish. I choose to defer making it public, in tenderness, while
they live: for all things point as yet to the permanent saving of
their souls. But, as in the course of nature I shall predecease
them, I set the record here in the Parish Register, as its best
place.

'(Signed) Malachi Hichens, B.D.
'21st Jan., 1719.'

"And is that all?" I asked.

"Yes and no," said the Vicar, closing the book. "It is all that Mr.
Hichens has left to help us: and you may or may not connect with it
what I am going to relate of my own experience. . . . The old church,
as you know, was destroyed by fire in the morning hours of Christmas
Day, 1870. Throughout Christmas Eve and for a great part of the
night it had been snowing, but the day broke brilliantly, on a sky
without wind or cloud; and never have my eyes seen anything so
terribly beautiful--ay, so sublime--as the sight which met them at
the lych-gate. The old spire--which served as a sea-mark for the
fishermen, and was kept regularly white-washed that it might be the
more conspicuous--glittered in the morning sunshine from base to
summit, as though matching its whiteness against that of the
snow-laden elms: and in