The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. But I shall take care of Ruth, work for her and fight for her. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. Trees were torn up by the roots; many houses were levelled to the ground; others were unroofed; the leads on the churches were ripped off, and "shrivelled up like scrolls of parchment. But he had been forewarned by his great-nephew. “I have been very selfish,” she declared.
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