"That's not a very hard one to grant," replied Walter, smiling, "though perhaps you may repent of saying 'Yes' when you suffer the consequences. My second request is, that I may be allowed to make a short speech when family prayers are over."

"Granted at once, my son," was Mr Huntingdon's reply; "I am sure you will have an attentive audience."

"Ah, it may be so, father; but I'm not sure that every member of my attentive audience will hear me willingly."

And now, when the gong had sounded and the whole family, including the servants, were gathered for the evening devotion, Amos, calm and collected, took his seat at the table, and when all were assembled, opened the Bible, which Harry had, by his master's direction, put before him, at the hundred and third Psalm. Deeply touching were those fervent words read out with solemn earnestness and pathos by the young man, in the presence of those he loved so dearly, specially when he lingered on the third and fourth verses, "Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with loving-kindness and tender mercies." The psalm finished, all knelt, and then, in tones low and trembling at first, but gaining in power and firmness as he proceeded, Amos poured out his heart in supplication and thanksgiving,—thanksgiving that all the members of that family were once again united under that roof in health and peace; and supplication that they might henceforth, if spared, go hand in hand along the narrow way, as true followers of Him whose service is perfect freedom.

Not a tearless eye was there in that company as all rose from their knees, no one being so deeply affected as Mr Huntingdon, who drew Amos to him with a tenderness which more than repaid his son for every sacrifice and suffering in the past. "And now," said his father, when the servants had left the room, "we are all waiting for your promised speech, Walter." The smile with which the young man rose to his feet passed away as he saw all eyes earnestly fixed on him. For a moment he hesitated, and then began: "Father and mother dear, I have been learning for some time past some very important lessons; and my two teachers are here before you—the one is my dear aunt Kate, and the other is my dear brother Amos. My aunt has taught me with her lips, and my brother by his life.—Nay, Amos, you must not interrupt the speaking. At this moment I am in possession of the house.—My lessons have been on the subject of moral courage. I used to think I was very brave, and didn't need any instruction on such a subject. I looked down upon, and would have despised, only I couldn't, the noblest brother that ever brother had.—Ay, ay, it's no use shaking your head, Amos; I am speaking nothing but the truth.—Over and over again I have shown myself a moral coward; over and over again Aunt Kate has set before me, at my own request, examples of moral heroism from history and real life, just to suit my case and stir me up to better things; and over and over again I have seen acted out by my brother there the very lessons I have been so slow in learning. Ah, it has been grand teaching! We have had such a lot of moral heroes,—Columbus, and Washington, and Howard, and Luther, and Fletcher, and a score more. But here is my moral hero," saying which he threw one arm round his weeping brother's neck, and put a hand over his mouth as he proceeded. "Yes, you must hear me out now. Here is the brother who, with a moral courage that never nagged, that no unkindness, no misunderstanding could bend, has been carrying out for years one great purpose, which God has permitted him this day to bring to a full accomplishment. That purpose we all see fulfilled in our complete family gathering to-night. Yes; Amos is my hero of heroes, and he shall hear me say it. I ask his pardon now for all my unworthy treatment of him. He is my hero, for he has nobly conquered. He has conquered us all, but none more completely than the brother who looks upon it as one of his dearest privileges to be permitted to love him and to try and copy his example."

What could Amos do? what could he say? Clinging to the impulsive brother who had thus spoken out impetuously what all felt to be true, and sobbing out his regrets that such words should have been spoken of one who felt himself to be so undeserving of them, he was utterly at a loss what to reply, nor did any one for the moment venture to add a word. But at last the silence was broken by the clear and gentle voice of Miss Huntingdon. "It may be, dearest ones, that a few words from myself may not be out of place after dear Walter's speech. He has indeed spoken the truth. Our noble Amos has certainly shown us, in the carrying out of his great heart-purpose, true moral courage in many of its most striking forms. But he has not been alone in this. I have been a privileged teacher by word of mouth, as Walter has said; and right nobly has he learned and applied his lessons, and been pressing forward in his brother's steps. And not only so, but dear Julia has been also learning and practising these lessons. And now I think I need occupy the teacher's place no longer. I would rather give up my place to the great Teacher of all,—to Him who both by word and example shows us moral heroism in its perfection of sublimity. I have not hitherto ventured specially to dwell on him as being in this, as in every other excellence, the one perfect pattern, because Walter wished to be encouraged by examples in those who were imperfect and shortcoming creatures like ourselves. But I would now express the hope that we may all henceforth find our happiness in taking Him for our teacher, guide, and model who never shrank from duty, even when to perform it wrung from him tears of agony and a bloody sweat, and who held on his course through evil report and good report, spite of blasphemy, persecution, and a bitter and shameful death, till he had finished the work which his Father had given him to do, and had won for us the victory over sin and death, and an imperishable crown of glory."

THE END.