Piggy Morris, under the influence of the new life which had dawned on him in Midden Harbour, forsook for ever the bar of the Green Dragon and the drinking habits which had been the bane of his life. His was a thorough regeneration, and his hearty activities in connection with the Methodist Church were only equalled by the vigour with which he turned his keen business abilities to the best account as a cattle dealer. He became known in this character through all East Yorkshire, and by his rapidly-increasing gains speedily surrounded his long-suffering but now happy “Sally,” with a home atmosphere which wrought a wondrous change in her health and made her quite a bustling body, a happy and contented wife.
John Morris, to be known as Black Morris no more for ever, pursued his chosen occupation with much diligence. He studied hard, gaining wisdom and experience in his profession, until his services as a veterinary surgeon were in continual request. He found a fitting partner in Hannah Olliver. As fellow-labourers in the Sunday-school, their friendship had ripened into love, and that once dressy, but always good-looking, damsel made him a wife of whom he was justly proud.
Bob and Dick Morris, aided by Pete Olliver and Philip Fuller, were enabled to regain their father’s farm at Eastthorpe. Here Mrs. Morris, senior, found unfailing pleasure in the oversight of the familiar dairy of her younger years. Jake Olliver mated with the maiden whom, despite the ghost of Nestleton Abbey, he had paid many a late visit to Cowley Priory to see. As the hind on Mr. Houston’s wold farm, he began his married life under sunny auspices, and had no more of cloudy weather than usually falls to mortal lot.
Of the Houston family, I have little to say. That good man and his estimable wife lived to old age, and were succeeded by still another Houston; there is indeed every probability of the farm being handed down in connection with the Houston name for ever. It will interest my readers to know that the Rev. Matthew Mitchell secured the lovely Grace in bonds which only death could loosen. Impelled by a spirit of zeal for his Master’s cause, Mr. Mitchell became a missionary, with the hearty good-will of his devoted wife. Should these village annals find acceptance, I may venture to tell the story of these two brave souls, and of the mission which they established beneath the mango and the palm.
The Rev. Theophilus Clayton, after a few more years spent in active work, became a supernumerary. He settled down at Nestleton in response to Philip Fuller’s earnest invitation. That open-handed friend of the Lord’s servants rendered his declining years exceptionally pleasant. Methodism has yet much to learn in the way of just or generous treatment of those who have spent their lives and exhausted their strength in her service. The pitiful pittance she doles out to them often amounts to semi-starvation. This grudging policy reacts mischievously on the Church, in forcing feeble men to occupy the posts of onerous duty, and also in depriving the time-worn toiler of the quiet repose which would lengthen life and perpetuate, at least, a portion of their Church activities.
It would never do to forget so important a character as honest Balaam, who was now permitted, not only to taste, but positively to banquet on the sweets of leisure. He revelled on the sweet grass of Farmer Houston’s paddock, and was fast getting demoralised under the influence of unmixed prosperity. Many a feed of corn, many a luscious cabbage or succulent carrot was given him by the younger branches of the Houston family, until like Jeshurun, he waxed fat and kicked, affording another sad example of the mischievous effects of the continuous smiles of fortune. At length, however, Adam Olliver, who rode him almost daily to Waverdale Park, was induced to lend him to the youngest squire of all, aged three years and a-half; and to his little brother who had attained the mature age of five years. A pair of panniers was provided, of superior basket work, cushioned and lined, and, under the charge of a youthful groom, the precious two were paraded round the park for a daily “constitutional.” Balaam, feeling the responsibility of his position, behaved himself as soberly and sedately as his office demanded. No sooner, however, was duty done than he felt at liberty to enjoy himself as his high spirits dictated. He would then, as in former times, erect his tail, throw back his ears, give voice in such a fashion as to wake all the echoes of Thurston Wood, and gallop to and fro and round about in so comical a manner as to delight the youthful hope of Waverdale. If Adam Olliver happened to be present during one of these singular escapades, he would say,—
“Balaam! Balaam! diz tho’ see a boggle?” Whereupon the excitable quadruped would lapse again into a quietude of deportment more in keeping with his years.
So the years went on; Time dealt gently with all and sundry, and Nestleton Magna and its villagers held on their way in rural simplicity, harmony, and peace.