arly blind--and Davie never was one to do a decent
hand job, let by it was herding sheep, and that it was not like he'd
be fit for; so we just agreed to let the matter lie where it was."

"Oh, it was a cruel shame, Matt."

"Well, it was a mistake; for yesterday Sam went to Kendall, and there,
in the Stramon-gate, he met Tom Philipson, who is just home from
India. And what does Tom say but, 'Have you seen the general yet?'
and, 'Great man is Gen. Denton,' and, 'Is it true that he is going to
buy the Derwent estate?' and, 'Wont the Indian Government miss Gen.
Denton!' Sam wasn't going to let Tom see how the land lay, and Tom
went off saying that Sam had no call to be so pesky proud; that it
wasn't him who had conquered the Mahrattas and taken the Ghiznee
Pass."

Jennie was crying bitterly, and saying softly to herself, "O my brave
laddie! O my bonnie lile Davie!"

"Hush, woman! No good comes of crying. Write now as soon as you like,
and the sooner the better."

In a very few hours Jennie had acted on this advice, and, though the
writing and spelling were wonderful, the poor sick general, nursing
himself at the Bath waters, felt the love that spoke in every word. He
had not expected much from his brothers; it was Jennie and Jennie's
bairns he wanted to see. He was soon afterwards an honored guest in
Esthwaite Grange, and the handsome old soldier, riding slowly among
the lovely dales, surrounded by his nephews and nieces, became a
well-known sight to the villages around.

Many in Thirlston remembered him, and none of his old companions found
themselves forgotten. Nor did he neglect his brothers. These cautious
men had become of late years manufacturers, and it was said were
growing fabulously rich. They had learned the value of the low coppice
woods on their fell-side, and had started a bobbin-mill which Sam
superintended, while Matt was on constant duty at the great steam-mill
on Milloch-Force, where he spun his own wools into blankets and
serges.

The men were not insensible to the honor of their brother's career;
they made great capital of it privately. But they were also intensely
dissatisfied at the reckless way in which he spent his wealth. Young
David Esthwaite had joined a crack regiment with his uncle's
introduction and at his uncle's charges, and Jennie and Mary Esthwaite
had been what the brothers considered extravagantly dowered in order
that they might marry two poor clergymen whom they had set their