The threads of our tale have nearly run out; and we have but, as knitters say, to take them up ere we finish. Our Halbert Melville is famed and honoured; a wise and earnest minister, faithful and fervent in his pulpit, unwearying in daily labour. His gentle Mary becomes the sweet dignity of her matronhood well, rejoicing in the happy guardianship of these fair children. Nor is the other Mary less blessed: the liberal heavens have rained down gifts upon them all; seed-time and harvest, summer and winter, have passed over their heads; but death and sorrow, making sad visits to many homes around them, and leaving havoc and desolation in their train, have never in their stern companionship come across these peaceful thresholds. Now we must draw the veil, lest we should feel the hot breath of sickness in these happy households, or see the approaching shadow of grief darkening their pleasant doorways.
Our friend James grows rich apace; and were you to see his portly figure and shining face “on Change,” where merchants most do congregate, you would be at no loss to understand why his opinion is now so weighty and influential. Messrs. Rutherford and Melville left a goodly beginning for their more enterprising successor; and James is now a most prosperous, because a most enterprising man. Robert, too, though at a distance in another city, the resident partner of his brother’s great house, speeds well in his vocation; and wedding one of his gentle sister-in-law’s kindred, has made up our tale. The Melvilles are truly, as Mary said, a happy family.
But how shall we say farewell to our companion of so many days and various vicissitudes—our generous single-minded Christian Melville; fain would we linger over every incident of thy remaining story. Fain look upon thee once more, dear Christian, in the sacred quietness of thine own chamber, recalling the holy memories of the past. Fain go with thee through thy round of duties, rejoicing in the love which meets thy gracious presence everywhere. Fain would we add to our brief history another tale, recording how the stubborn resolutions of a second Halbert would yield to no persuasions less gentle than thine; and how the guileless hearts of the twain Marys unfolded their most secret thinkings in sweetest confidence to only thee; how thou wert cherished, and honoured, and beloved, dear Christian; how willingly would we tell, how glad look forward through the dim future, to prophesy thee years of happiness as bright and unclouded as this, and testify to the truth of that old saying of Halbert’s, “that Christian would never grow old.” But now we must bid thee farewell, knowing how “thy soul, like a quiet palmer, travellest unto the land of heaven;” and believing well that, Christian, whatever may happen to thee in thy forward journey, however it may savour now, be it fresh trials or increased joys, will work nothing but final good and pleasantness to thy subdued and heavenly spirit—has not our Father said that all things shall work together for good to them that love God as thou dost?—bringing but a more abundant entrance at thy latter days into the high inheritance in thy Father’s Kingdom, which waits for the ending of thy pilgrimage, dear Christian Melville.
THE END.
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BILLING, PRINTER, GUILDFORD, SURREY.
