ow and then by the soft tinkle of
a disturbed bell. Next he entered the woods, so dark and still, with
only the light of a few stars peeping through the branches. The young
man forgot Splinterin' Andra and Donald Neil and all his worries as he
moved through the mysterious darkness. The strange, still whisper of
the forest, that gave a sense of life, as if the whole dark
surroundings were some great breathing creature, touched him nearly.
He felt awed; the trivial things which made up so much of his life
seemed infinitesimal now, in the face of this mysterious wonder. When
he emerged into the grey light of the open fields again, he was both
saddened and uplifted. He climbed the fence into Duncan Polite's
pasture field and made his way round the little shanty, stepping
quietly for fear of disturbing the old man, who might be sleeping. But
as he passed the place a sound arrested his footsteps, a sound of a
human voice full of anguish.

The minister paused and drew nearer. The green paper window-blind was
rolled up a few inches and from beneath it shone the light of a lamp.
He stepped up to the window and peeped in. In the middle of the bare
room knelt Duncan Polite. His Scotch bonnet lay on the floor at his
side and the rays of the little lamp on the table touched his thin
white hair with silver. His pallid face was upturned, his eyes closed.
Collie stood beside him, his head on one side, a look of longing on his
canine face, as though his dog's heart were striving to know and share
his master's grief. He stiffened and bristled at the scent of the
intruder, but Duncan had begun to speak again and the dumb sympathiser
was once more all attention.

"Oh, my Father, my Father!" The words broke from him like a cry of
pain. "Oh, my Father, Thou knowest there will be dissension in Thy
House and trouble in Thy Holy Place! Oh set Ye open unto us the gates
of righteousness! Father, lead us to the light and let not Thine Holy
One be put to shame among us!"

His voice broke, and Collie gave a quivering whine. Then the man's
tones rose again in passionate pleading. He poured out his whole,
great soul in such an anguish-laden prayer for the young man who was
listening, that he stood for a moment overcome. Then, unable to bear
it, he turned and slipped softly around the house and out upon the
road. He stumbled often and he did not walk with his accustomed easy
swing. And as he entered the valley, the lights of the