d for old Anthony
and Dorothy, I should care for them; but as she has, I believe I
shall use the interest of Blanche's money in paying for scholarships
in India, and China, and Japan, and Greece, and I'll call them the
Blanche Trevellian and the Bessie McPherson scholarships. That will
please Bessie, for she is great on missions, both at home and
abroad, and her kitchen is a regular soup-house in the winter, for
every beggar in Boston knows Mrs. Grey Jerrold. Jack, you don't know
what a lovely woman Bessie is. Sweeter and prettier even than when
she was a girl and you and I were both in love with her. And
Grey--well, you ought to see how he worships her! Why, she is never
within his reach that he does not put his hands upon her, and if he
thinks no one is looking on he always kisses her, and by Jove, she
kisses him back as if she liked it! And I--well, I bear it now with
a good deal of equanimity. Eels, they say, can get used to being
skinned, and so I am getting accustomed to think of Bessie as Grey's
wife instead of mine, and I really have quite an uncleish feeling
for her children. Indeed. I intend to make them my heirs

"And so good-by to you, old chap; with love to Flossie and the
twins, from your Yankeefied friend,

"NEIL McPHERSON."

And now our story winds to a close, and we are dropping the curtain upon
the characters, who go out one by one and pass from our sight forever.
In the cozy rectory Hannah Jerrold's last days are passing happily and
peacefully with the Rev. Charles Sanford, who loves her just as dearly
and thinks her just as fair as on that night years and years ago, when
she walked with him under the chestnut trees, and while her heart was
breaking with its load of care and pain, sent him from her with no other
explanation than that it could not be.

At Grey's Park Lucy Grey lives her life of sweet unselfishness, looked
up to by the villagers as the lady _par excellence_ of the town, and
idolized by the little ones from Boston, who know no spot quite as
attractive as her house in the park.

Miss Betsey and Neil still scramble along together, he indolent at times
and prone to lapse into his old habits of luxurious ease, for which she
rates him sharply, though on the whole she pets him as she has never
petted a human being before.

"Boys will be boys," she says, forgetting that Neil is over thirty years
of age, and s