n sat on a low
wall built of loose stones; all at once, in the middle of the sermon,
down came the wall and all the people with it. I think we should have
burst out laughing, it must have looked so funny. Instead of which,
there was no laughing and no screaming; the people just kept their
places, only instead of sitting on the top of the wall they sat at the
bottom. There was no interruption of the service at all; Mr. Wesley went
on with his sermon, and the people continued reverent and attentive.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXIX.

The Magic Mirror again.--Sycamore Farm.--Annie's
good news.--A chorister up in a tree.--A long,
long journey.--Sixty miles a day on horseback.--A
Chapel out of doors.--A hard bed and a funny
pillow.--Thanksgiving Street.--Ripe Blackberries.

WHY, I do believe that Magic Mirror has mended itself, for here it is,
showing us such a lovely picture--nay, two, I declare. Look at that dear
old farmhouse; it must surely be called Sycamore Farm, for there are
great sycamore trees all round the front and the side. At the back, and
only one field away from the house, are the green slopes of the
mountain, with a little waterfall tumbling merrily down a crack in its
side. In front of the farm, shimmering through the leaves of the trees,
you can see the sunlit waters of a calm lake. The farm is a low
whitewashed building, and we can see the cows in the distant meadows
coming home to be milked. No one is with them; but there is a little
group of people standing at the farmyard gate. The farmer and his wife
and all the family and servants seem to be there.

Whatever is the matter?

Oh, see! there is a little girl in the middle of the group, and they are
all listening to what she is saying. Let us listen too.

"Yes, it is quite true; Mr. Wesley _is_ coming. I went to the village
for mother, and old Downs the cobbler told me, and so did Mrs. Wilson at
the shop. Everybody is talking about it."

"Ay, but that's good news, lassie!" the old farmer says. "I wonder now
if he'd come and preach at Sycamore Farm."

The picture has gone.

Oh, but here's the other one. Why, it is the same old farmhouse, and the
sun is shining on the whitewashed walls and funny little windows. There
is a great crowd gathered under the shade of the leafy sycamores. See,
there is the kind-looking farmer, with his sunburnt face, and sitting on
his knee is Annie, the li