stes and peculiarities. He loved
money, and Peter respected him for loving it. There were two men
whom Peter particularly disliked; little Jan disliked them also with
all his childish soul, and when he said things about them that Peter
did not care to say, the boy's candor charmed and satisfied him,
although he pretended to reprove it.

Jan, too, had a very high temper, and resented, quick as a flash, any
wound to his childish self-esteem. Peter was fond of noticing its
relationship to his own. One day he said to the boy: "Do that again
and I will send thee out of the store."

"If thou sends me out just once, I will never come in thy store again;
no, I will not; never, as long as I live," was the instant retort.
Peter repeated it to Suneva with infinite pride and approval. "No one
will put our little Jan out for nothing," he said.

"Well, then, he is just like thee!" said the politic Suneva; and
Peter's face showed that he considered the resemblance as very
complimentary.

CHAPTER XIV.

JAN'S RETURN.

"For them the rod of chastisement flowered."

A stranger suddenly dropped in these Shetland islands, especially in
winter, would not unnaturally say, "how monotonously dreary life must
be here! In such isolation the heart must lose its keen sense of
sympathy, and be irresponsive and dumb." That is the great mistake
about the affections. It is not the rise and fall of empires, the
birth and death of kings, or the marching of armies that move them
most. When they answer from their depths, it is to the domestic joys
and tragedies of life. Ever since Eve wept over her slain son, and
Rebecca took the love-gifts of Isaac, this has been the case; and
until that mighty angel, who stands on the sea and land, cries, "Time
shall be no more," the home loves, and the home trials, will be the
center of humanity's deepest and sweetest emotions. So, then, the
little Shetland town had in it all the elements necessary for a life
full of interest--birth and death, love and sorrow, the cruel hand and
the generous hand, the house of mourning and the house of joy.

Just before Christmas-tide, Tulloch was sitting alone at midnight. His
malady was too distressing to allow him to sleep, but a Norseman
scorns to complain of physical suffering, and prefers, so long as it
is possible, to carry on the regular routine of his life. He was
unable to go much out, and his wasted body showed that it was under a
constant torture, but he