In the afternoon, David took me to Trinity Church, and I was perfectly delighted to hear our dear liturgy again, after being so long deprived of it.  Some of the people did not kneel down, but I could not help doing it, for my heart was so full.

Just as we were coming out of church, I observed one of the sweetest young ladies that I ever saw, who looked as if she had been crying, and yet there was a happy smile on her face.  I was wondering why she looked so familiar to me, when she said, in a perfectly musical voice, to some one near her,—­“Is it not delightful to worship God with his own chosen people once more?”

I turned to see who she thus addressed, and, notwithstanding the change in his dress, at once recognized Richard Colman.  I cannot describe to you the joy I felt at finding him thus restored to his sister.  Before I thought that I was among strangers, I flew to his side, and exclaimed,—­“O, I am so glad that you have got your sister!  I hope you will never leave her again.”

“He never will,” Miss Louisa replied; for poor Dick was too much overcome by the suddenness of my greeting to answer me.  “You,” she said, looking at David and myself, “are, I doubt not, the little friends that my brother has been telling me about.  Come tomorrow and see us in Chestnut Street, for I am anxious to make your acquaintance.”

Dick then joined in this invitation, and David accepted it for both of us.

We called upon Miss Colman the next day, and received a warm welcome; but, of course, she did not allude to her brother’s long absence, only now and then as she looked at him her beautiful dark eyes would fill with tears.  O, Bennie, if you could only see her! for she is the most lovely being that I ever met; but I hope that you may some day, for Dick half promised Clarendon to pay us a visit, and I am going to get mamma to write and beg his sister to come on with him.

I am so impatient now for Clarendon’s letters to come!  After we are once started, we shall not stop till we reach Virginia.  Yet I shall be sorry to leave this same Yankee land, with its morality, its intelligence, and its kindness.  If for nothing else, I shall bless this fishing excursion for having opened my eyes to the virtues of the excellent people whom I really used to despise.  Though a Virginian still in heart, I can join David heartily in crying,—­“Hurrah for New England now and for ever!” Till we meet, which will, I trust, be soon, your affectionate cousin,

Pidgie Beverley.

The end.