ugh
all, and gives us the victory at the end. `Thanks be to God who giveth
us the victory!'" said Mr Inglis, and in a minute he repeated the words
again.

Then he lay still for a long time, so long that it grew dark, except for
the light of the new moon, and David, kneeling at the head of the sofa,
never moved, thinking that his father slumbered now, or had forgotten
him. But by and by he spoke again:

"When I was young, just beginning the conflict, I remember saying to
myself, if God will give me twenty years in which to fight His battles,
I will be content. The twenty years are almost over now. Ah! how
little I have gained for Him from the enemy! Yet I may have to lay down
my armour now, just as you are ready to put it on, Davie, my son."

"Papa! I am not worthy--" said David, with a sob.

"Worthy? No. It is a gift He will give you--as the crown and the palm
of the worthiest will be His free gift at last. Not worthy, lad, but
willing, I trust."

"Papa--I cannot tell. I am afraid--"

He drew nearer, kneeling still, and laid his face upon his father's
shoulder.

"Of what are you afraid, Davie? There is nothing you need fear, except
delay. You cannot come to Him too soon. David, when you were the child
of an hour only, I gave you up to God to be His always. I asked Him to
make you a special messenger of His to sinful men. His minister. That
may be if He wills. I cannot tell. But I do know that He will that you
should be one of His `good soldiers.'"

There was a long silence, for it tired him to speak, and David said
nothing. By and by his father said:

"How can I leave your mother to your care, unless I know you safe among
those whom God guides? But you must give yourself to Him. Your mother
will need you, my boy, but you may fight well the battles of the Lord,
even while working with your hands for daily bread. And for the rest,
the way will open before you. I am not afraid."

"Papa," said David, raising himself up to look into his father's face,
"why are you saying all this to me to-night?"

"I am saying it to you because you are your mother's first-born son, and
must be her staff and stay always. And to-night is a good time to say
it."

"But, papa," said the boy with difficulty, "it is not because you think
you are going to die? Does mamma know?"

"I do not know, my son. Death has seemed very near to me to-day. And
it has been often in your mother's thoughts of late, I do no