THE BLESSINGS WHICH COME FROM THE DEATH OF THE WICKED It was three weeks after Martin Newcombe's letter came before Ben Greenway arrived in Spanish Town.

He had had a hard time to get there, having but little money and no friends to help him; but he had a strong heart and an earnest, and so he was bound to get there at last; and, although Kate saw no visitors, she saw him.

She was not dressed in mourning; she could not wear black for herself.
She greeted the Scotchman with earnestness; he was a friend out of the old past, but she gave him no chance to speak first.
"Ben," she exclaimed, "have you a message for me ?" "No message," he replied, "but I hae somethin' on my heart I wish to say to ye.

I hae toiled an' laboured an' hae striven wi' mony obstacles to get to ye an' to say it." She looked at him, with her brows knit, wondering if she should allow him to speak; then, with the words scarcely audible between her tightly closed lips, she said: "Ben, what is it ?" "It is this, an' no more nor less," replied the Scotchman; "he was never fit to be your father, an' it is not fit now for ye to remember him as your father.

I was faithful to him to the vera last, but there was no truth in him.