devoted himself had been so thoroughly accomplished; his
dear sister had been restored to her earthly home, and the death of her
unhappy husband had taken away all fear of her being withdrawn from it
again. And, better still, she, the poor wayward and wandering sheep,
who till late did not love the fold nor the Good Shepherd's voice, had
been sought and found by him, and brought back from the wilderness with
rejoicings. The heart of the good brother overflowed with gratitude and
praise for this, for it was more than he had yet dared to hope. But
there could be no doubt about it. The eyes of his sister had been
opened to see how entirely she had hitherto been living to self, while
her husband's dying words had led her to see her duty to her children,
and to mourn over her ingratitude to Amos.

There was one little circumstance which specially touched that brother's
heart. On the Sunday after her return from her parting visit to her
husband, Julia appeared at church in deep mourning, her children wearing
the same; and at dinner she had put on a neat widow's cap. Amos had
rather expected that she would have treated her married life as a thing
so entirely to be forgotten--a thing of misery and shame, a thing of the
past to be henceforth to her and others as though it had never been,
except so far as her children were concerned--that she would have
continued to dress herself and her little ones as usual, so as not by
any outward sign to remind those around her that she had suffered any
loss, or recall their thoughts to the man who had brought nothing but
degradation to herself and disgrace to her family. He was therefore
deeply thankful to see that she had taken a different course; for it
told of a subdued and chastened spirit, and of a willingness to bear
patiently and meekly the burden which her own fault, in a measure at
least, had laid upon her. Mr Huntingdon also appreciated her conduct
in this matter, and, pressing her fondly to him as she was retiring to
rest, kissed her tenderly, and whispered in her ear, as he looked
lovingly into her tearful eyes, "Dear child, this is as it should be;
you are right, I am sure, in adopting this dress; it would have been
unworthy of you and unbecoming not to have done so." Old Harry,
however, was not quite of the same mind; but he would not wound any of
the members of the family upstairs by giving expression to his feelings
on the subject. But in the kitchen he spoke out hi