ood, Ruleson, that moves the earth on its
axis. It is men whose intelligent brows wear the constant plait of
tension, whose manner reveals a debility beneath which we know that
suffering lurks, and who have an unconscious plaintiveness about them.
Such men have fits of languor, but let the occasion come and they
command their intellect and their hands just as easily as a workman
commands his tools. The mother of this boy of ours was a physical
tyrant in her home, and she never suspected that she had under her
control and keeping a spirit touched and prepared for the finest
issues of life. Oh, Ruleson,

"Sad it is to be weak,
And sadder to be wrong,
But if the strong God's statutes break,
'Tis saddest to be strong."

The child became rapidly an integral part of the household. No one
thought of him as a transient guest, no one wanted him in that light,
and he unconsciously made many changes. Margot often spoke to
Christine of them: "Were you noticing your feyther this afternoon,
Christine?" she asked one day, when little James had been two weeks
with them. "Were you noticing him?"

"How, Mither, or whatna for?"

"Weel, as soon as he was inside the house, the laddie had his hand,
and when he sat down he was on his knee, and showing him the book, and
saying his letters to him--without missing ane o' them, and granddad
listening, and praising him, and telling him it was wonderfu', an' the
like o' that."

"Weel, then, it is wonderfu'! He learns as if he was supping new milk.
He'll be ready for the school when the school is ready for him. And
he's nae trouble in ony way. The house would be gey dull wanting
him."

"That's truth itsel'. I like to hear his soft footsteps, and I would
miss his crooning voice going o'er his lessons. You mustna gie him too
lang, or too many lessons. I hae heard learning tasks were bad for
sickly weans."

"Perhaps that was the cause o' his mither neglecting him anent his
books, and such things?"

"Not it! His mither is a lazy, unfeeling hizzy! I'd like to hae the
sorting o' her--fine!"

"Maybe he was too sick to be bothered wi' books and lessons."

"Maybe he wad niver hae been sick at a', if he had been gi'en a few
books and lessons. Griselda Ruleson had better keep out o' my
presence. If she ventures into it, the words arena to seek, that I'll
gie her."

One cold afternoon Christine was hearing the boy's lessons when Cluny
Macpherson called. He looked annoyed at the chi