crew o' young folk in the Glen. Man, Duncan,
the Scripter described them weel. They're jist naething but the
cracklin' o' thorns under a pot, aye, an' yon foolish bit crater that
an ill fate has gie'n us for a meenister is the lightest o' them a'.
May the Lord forgie the man that disgraced Maister Cameron's pulpit an'
Maister McAlpine's name!"

Duncan did not seem to have the strength to combat his friend's
statements; and Splinterin' Andra sailed on, encouraged by his silence.

"Ah dinna ken what's come till the man; he acted maist strange aboot
the bit music-boax, an' whiles Ah hoped he'd got some sense intill him.
But there's nae change in him. It's a tea-meetin' or a huskin' bee, or
ane o' his society meetin's ivery night. Och, for a meenister wi' the
grace of God in his heart an' a hunger for souls! We hae fallen upon
ill times, Duncan!"

Duncan Polite roused himself with an effort. "They will not be so bad
but the Father can mend them, Andra, an' indeed it will not be like the
times when your father an' mine would be praying here for the Glen."

"Ah dinna ken that," replied old Andrew morosely. "If they didna' have
a meenister in thae times, to show them the way o' salvation, they
didna hae a bit worldling to lead them astray."

"Oh, it may be better than we will be thinking; the young folk now are
always at the church, Andra, and at the prayer meeting."

"Hooch! an' they might jist as well be awa' for a' the good they get.
There's a pack o' godless young folk in the Glen that naething but the
terrors o' damnation'll iver reach an' they listen to a meenister who
says 'peace, peace' when there's nae peace!"

"Oh, well, indeed, indeed,"--Duncan Polite's gentle voice again stemmed
the torrent--"we must jist be praying for an awakening, Andra, like our
fathers would be doing. And it will be coming," he added with a sudden
fire. "But I will be fearing the sacrifice."

Andrew Johnstone paused in his fierce puffing at his pipe, and turned
to look at his friend. The light of the dying sun touched his white
hair and his thin face and showed the sudden, mysterious, supernatural
fire in his deep eyes. The matter-of-fact Scot felt a strange
sensation as of the presence of some greater power.

"The sacrifice, Duncan?" he asked in a tone of surprise. "Ye ken they
will na' heed the one great Sacrifice that's already been made."

"Yes, oh yes, that's jist it, Andra." Duncan's voice sank to a
whisper. "The