e two men talked of the Russian
war and the probable storming of the Alamo. Then John took his usual
after-dinner nap, and David went up stairs with Jenny and kissed his
children, and said a few words to them and to the old woman, which
made them all very happy.

When he returned to the parlor his uncle was still sleeping, and he
could see how weary and worn he had become.

"So patient, so generous, so honorable, so considerate for my
feelings," said the young man to himself. "I should be an ingrate
indeed if I did not, as soon as he wakes, say what I know he is so
anxious to hear."

With the thought John opened his eyes, and David nodded and smiled
back to him. How alert and gladly he roused himself! How cheerily he
said,

"Why, Davie, I hae been sleeping, I doot. Hech, but it is gude to see
you, lad."

"Please God, uncle, it shall always be gude to see me. Can you give me
some advice to-night?" "I'll be mair than glad to do it."

"Tell me frankly, Uncle John, what you think I ought to do. I saw
Robert off to America to-night. Shall I follow him?"

"Davie, mind what I say. In the vera place where a man loses what he
values, there he should look to find it again. You hae lost your good
name in Glasgow; stay in Glasgow and find it again."

"I will stay here then. What shall I do?"

"You'll go back to your old place, and to your old business."

"But I heard that Deacon Strang had bought the looms and the lease."

"He bought them for me, for us, I mean. I will tell you how that came
about. One day when I was cross, and sair put out wi' your affairs,
Davie, Dr. Morrison came into my office. I'm feared I wasna glad to
see him; and though I was ceevil enough, the wise man read me like a
book. 'John,' says he, 'I am not come to ask you for siller to-day,
nor am I come to reprove you for staying awa from the service o' God
twice lately. I am come to tell you that you will hae the grandest
opportunity to-day, to be, not only a man, but a Christ-man. If you
let the opportunity slip by you, I shall feel sairly troubled about
it.'

"Then he was gone before I could say, 'What is it?' and I wondered and
wondered all day what he could hae meant. But just before I was ready
to say, 'Mr. MacFarlane, lock the safe,' in walks Deacon Strang. He
looked vera downcast and shamefaced, and says he, 'Callendar, you can
tak your revenge on me to-morrow, for a' I hae said and done against
you for thirty years. You hold twa notes o'