ignorant field-hand recognized the eternal balance of Nature.

Mary Potter, although the day had arrived for which she had so long and
fervently prayed, could not shake off the depressing influence of the
weather. After breakfast, when Gilbert began to make preparations for
the journey, she found herself so agitated that it was with difficulty
she could give him the usual assistance. The money, which was mostly in
silver coin, had been sewed into tight rolls, and was now to be
carefully packed in the saddle-bags: the priming of the pistols was to
be renewed, and the old, shrivelled covers of the holsters so greased,
hammered out, and padded that they would keep the weapons dry in case of
rain. Although Gilbert would reach Chester that evening,--the distance
being not more than twenty-four miles,--the preparations, principally on
account of his errand, were conducted with a grave and solemn sense of
their importance.

When, finally, everything was in readiness,--the saddle-bags so packed
that the precious rolls could not rub or jingle; the dinner of sliced
bread and pork placed over them, in a folded napkin; the pistols,
intended more for show than use, thrust into the antiquated holsters;
and all these deposited and secured on Roger's back,--Gilbert took his
mother's hand, and said,--

"Good-bye, mother! Don't worry, now, if I shouldn't get back until late
to-morrow evening; I can't tell exactly how long the business will
take."

He had never looked more strong and cheerful. The tears came to Mary
Potter's eyes, but she held them hack by a powerful effort. All she
could say--and her voice trembled in spite of herself--was,--