Part 26 (2/2)

”Let me go and tell Sally!” he shouted, and running out of the malt-kiln, he went to tell his wife the sweetest news she had heard from him, poor woman, since, more than thirty years ago, she had stood by his side at the marriage altar in Nestleton Church. The good woman could but weep and sob in voiceless grat.i.tude, as he cast himself at her feet and said,--

”Sally, my la.s.s, the Lord has forgiven me, and so must you!”

Can we doubt that all the weary trials of the years were blotted out in that delightful moment, and that Sarah Morris knew she held again to her heart the loving husband of her youth!

No grander and more triumphant issue ever attended the preached Word than that which, that day, crowned the labours of Nathan Blyth, the local preacher. No prelatic hands had ever been laid upon his head; no solemn ordination vows had ever set him apart for the high and holy calling; no clerical training or episcopal degree had ever given him conventional status as a minister of Christ; but G.o.d had sent him, his Church had called him, the love of Christ sustained him, and neither Paul nor Peter had a higher warrant for the message they proclaimed.

There is a lamentable tendency in these days among the Methodist people to look askance at the local preachers. In many places they are unacceptable in town and city pulpits; they are relegated to small and unimportant spheres of labour. The natural consequence is a marked indisposition on the part of young and capable men to enter the local ranks, and an outcry on the part of superintendent ministers that appointments are difficult to supply. Let Methodism beware! Let her be careful how she trifles with this agency, so rife with power and blessing. The enrolment of this glorious army was one of Wesley's grandest inspirations, and in the day when her local preachers fail her, Methodism will be as weak as Samson was when his locks were shorn.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

SQUIRE FULLER INTRODUCES AN INNOVATION.

”List to the Saviour's words: 'Where two or three Meet in My name, there in the midst am I.'

Believe, and welcome to thy family The gracious Guest; and by His blessing try How much domestic bliss and amity Hang on domestic wors.h.i.+p's hallowing tie.”

_Bishop Mant._

After Squire Fuller had returned home from the county business which demanded his presence in the ancient town of York, he found himself much exercised in mind, as to certain important matters which pressed upon his notice. Lucy Blyth's sudden departure was a surprise, and he was bound to acknowledge to himself that it was an unwelcome one. The fair girl had cast around him the magic spell which had taken captive all who came within its influence. Her presence in his lonely mansion, long unbrightened by the sweet subtleties of woman, had thrown more than a gleam of suns.h.i.+ne through its stiff and stately grandeur; her wondrous magic had given back to him the son of his right hand; her cheerful and attractive piety had excited something more in him than admiration; and her sweet songs of Zion and her clear witness for her Saviour had touched his heart. These things, together with his own son's beautiful and consistent religious profession, and his convincing testimony of the power of Christianity, had left his harsh and narrow scepticism without a leg to stand on. Besides all this, Lucy had undoubtedly saved his own life by her well-aimed blow on the extended arm of the villain, Buckley. He felt that he must make some return to her, commensurate with the weighty and unspeakable service she had rendered, but how to set about it, under the peculiar circ.u.mstances of the case, he did not know. Then, again, he felt in his conscience that both she and Philip had possession of some secret inborn talisman which brought them peace, happiness, and hope, to which he was an utter and a miserable stranger. Intelligence of ”the great revival” had reached him through the medium of his son, who was as yet unable to endure excitement and exposure, but who was kept well posted up as to the course of Methodist events, by his much-loved cla.s.s-leader and minister, the Rev. Matthew Mitch.e.l.l. The marvellous change which had come over Midden Harbour, and the other delightful results of that great movement, were all told to the wondering squire by his son, whose pale face was lit up the while, with a heaven-born joy, as he related the triumphs of the Gospel; and the poor old squire, drawn more and more by the unseen hand of Him who was ”lifted up” for this very purpose, had a chronic heartache for the possession of the heaven-sent secret which was such a treasure to his son. Other witness, too, was now forthcoming, which still more clearly evidenced the mighty power of Methodism, hitherto despised, to work the highest moral wonders, and to produce in the hardest hearts and most unlikely cases, the sterling results of that Gospel which its ministers and people so vigorously proclaimed.

Immediately after that notable Sunday, on which Piggy Morris found peace with G.o.d, Squire Fuller received the following letter:--

”HONOURED SIR,--Years ago you turned me off the farm on which I was born, and which was rented by my father before me. You did justly, and only what I deserved. From that day until now I have hated you and yours, and would have gone far and done much to work you harm. There was a triumphant vengeance in my heart when circ.u.mstances led me to believe that I could strike at you through your son. I deeply repent, and would hereby express my bitter sorrow for the trouble my wicked hate has caused. G.o.d has shown me the greatness of my sin; He has shown me the greatness of His mercy; He has forgiven my sin. I pray you, forgive me also. I desire to subscribe myself, with great respect,

”Yours humbly and repentingly,

”GEORGE MORRIS.”

”Well! that's a miracle, at any rate,” said the squire, as he handed the letter to his son; ”that's casting out a devil of no ordinary strength and size. I am bound to say it is a most satisfactory letter, and I shall write and express my pleasure at the receipt of it.”

”And your hearty compliance with his request?” said Philip.

”Certainly, my boy; George Morris's conduct shall be forgotten and forgiven.”

”Father!” said Philip, softly and half timidly; ”Is not that a miracle, too?”

The old gentleman, once stiff, stately, proud and unyielding to a degree, was compelled to feel that he himself had marvellously changed. He knew that that change had been largely wrought by the son he had received from the dead, and by the fair girl who had gotten so strong a hold upon his heart.

”Yes, Philip,” and the father's eyes reddened with suffusing tears, ”I'm bound to own that I too am something other, and I think, better than I was.”

Philip wisely and prudently said no more, but his soul was full of a yearning love to his mollified and chastened parent and of grat.i.tude to G.o.d, who was so evidently leading him by a way he knew not, to a hitherto undiscovered resting-place for intellect and heart.

In the course of the day the squire met his head gamekeeper.

”Well, Hatfield,” said he, ”how are you getting on?”

”Why, sir,” said Hatfield, touching his hat, ”we don't seem to have very much to do now. A fortnight or two since, me and my mates were in peril of our lives, and Waverdale Woods were as flush of poachers as they were of game; but they seem to be pretty nearly all gone.”

”Gone? What's gone? The game?”

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