is vocation as a monk, and
had failed through a breakdown in health. He was in want of an easy
berth in good country air, where he could pick up his strength and fit
himself for entering college to train for the secular priesthood in a
couple of years. No man with sense in his head would think twice about
closing with such a promising candidate; Val wrote back gladly
accepting the young man.

So Bernard Murray came to Ardmuirland, and won all our hearts in no
time.

"That gentleman's got the face of a priest, Mr. Edmund," was Penny's
remark at first sight of him.

"Murray's a treasure!" cried Val in delight. "He'll do wonders with
our bairns, Ted!"

It was a true forecast. The children all took to him at once; the
little lassies loved him; for he had a gentle way with them--like that
of a kindly, grown-up brother; the boys regarded him with more awe, but
were ready to stand up for him against any adversary, as the best
shinty player in the district. He thoroughly transformed our little
choir of children--leading them and accompanying them with taste and
skill.

To Val as well as to myself he grew inexpressibly dear. It became the
regular custom for one or other of us to look in at the schoolhouse of
an evening, to smoke a pipe with the master, or to lure him for a
walk--should the weather be favorable; while on Sunday evenings after
service Murray dined with us as a matter of course. It was in the
intimate fellowship thus engendered that he confided to me his life
story as detailed above.

It was a wrench to all three of us when the parting came, and the dear
boy left us to begin his training for the Foreign Missions--his elected
field of labor; but we could not grudge our sacrifice when we compared
it with the immensity of his.

Bernard is devoting rare talents, ceaseless energy, abundant tenderness
to the winning of souls to God. Difficult and hopeless as his efforts
appear, yet his rare letters breathe patience and cheerful content.
Like every true missionary, he is prodigal of labor, in spite of the
apparent scarcity of the harvest gathered; for like his fellows, he
relies upon those inspired words which promise a plentiful reaping
before the great Harvest-home.

"They went forth on their way and wept: scattering
their seed.
But returning, they shall come with joy: carrying
their sheaves."

XII

PENNY

"While memory watches o'er the sad review
Of joys that fad