“‘Sure enough,’ returned the host, ’there are an auld decent couple of the name here.  What is the soldier called?’

“‘William,’ I replied, for by that name his discharge and pension bill were filled up.

“‘I’ll slip across the street to the auld folk,’ said Boniface, ’and ask them a few questions.’

“The episode of humble life that followed was afterwards thus described to me by mine host.

“He found the ancient couple seated at the fire; the old man reading a chapter in the Bible, as was his custom always before he and his aged partner retired for the night to rest.  The landlord explained the object of the soldier’s visit, and inquired if any of their children answered the description of the wanderer.

“‘It is our Jock!’ exclaimed the old woman passionately, ’and the puir neer-do-weel has cam hame at last to close his mither’s eyes.’

“‘Na,’ said the landlord; ‘the man’s name is Wolly.’

“‘Then he’s nae our bairn,’ returned the old man with a heavy sigh.

“‘Weel, weel—­His will be done!’ said his help-mate, turning her blue and faded eyes to heaven; ’I thought the prayer I sae often made wad yet be granted, and Jock wad come hame and get my blessin’ ere I died.’

“‘He has! he has!’ exclaimed a broken voice; and the soldier, who had followed the landlord unperceived, and listened at the cottage door, rushed into the room, and dropped kneeling at his mother’s feet.  For a moment she turned her eyes with a fixed and glassy stare upon the returned wanderer.  Her hand was laid upon his head—­her lips parted as if about to pronounce the promised blessing—­but no sounds issued, and she slowly leaned forward on the bosom of the long-lost prodigal, who clasped her in his arms.

“‘Mither! mither! speak and bless me!’ cried he in agony.

“Alas! the power of speech was gone forever.  Joy, like grief, is often fatal to a worn-out frame.  The spirit had calmly passed; the parent had lived to see and bless her lost one; and expire in the arms of him, who, with all his faults, appeared to have been her earthly favorite.”

DORA.  “What an affecting story!  How sorry Jock must have felt that he came so suddenly into his mother’s presence; but his father was yet alive for him to comfort and cheer in his declining age.  I hope he was kind and affectionate to him all his days, to compensate for the loss of the poor old woman?”

MR. BARRAUD.  “I trust he was, but our historian saith no more.”

MR. WILTON.  “There is a little cluster of islands between Alnwick and Berwick called the Farne islands, on one of which was situated the lighthouse where the heroine Grace Darling spent her dreary days.  These rocky islands have for centuries been respected as holy ground, because St. Cuthbert built an oratory on one of them, and died there.  At one time there were two chapels on these rocks; one dedicated to St. Cuthbert, the other to the Virgin Mary:  they are now ruins; and a square building, erected for the religieux stationed on these isles, has been put to better use, and converted into a lighthouse.  Off these islands occurred that dreadful calamity, the wreck of the Forfarshire steamer, of which I will give you a brief account:—­