ngs of peculiar
tenderness. He was not conscious of it, and would have laughed at the
idea had it been suggested to him; yet it was true that when he was but
just sixteen Mary Oliphant had begun to wind herself around his heart
with those numberless invisible cords which would by degrees enchain him
in bonds which no power on earth could break. Mary, of course, mere
child as she then was, and brought up by her parents as a child should
be, obedient, gentle, unobtrusive, delighted in the companionship of the
lively, open-hearted boy, without a thought beyond, and heartily enjoyed
many a happy ramble with him and her brothers among the woods and
meadows. Frank Oldfield could not but be struck by the love and harmony
which reigned in the Oliphant family. He saw the power of a religion
which made itself felt without thrusting itself forward into notice. He
could not but reflect sometimes, and then even _his_ sunny brow was
clouded, that he wanted a something which the children at the rectory
possessed; that he wanted a great reality, without which he could not be
fully happy. He saw also the bright side of total abstinence when he
spent a day with the rector's family. At home there was always
abundance of beer and wine upon the table, and he drank it, like others;
and not only drank it, but thirsted for it, and felt as if he could not
do without it. It was not so when he dined at the rectory, at their
simple one o'clock meal, for he enjoyed his food, and seemed scarcely to
miss the stimulant.

One day, when he was sitting at the rectory table, he said to Mr
Oliphant, looking up with one of his bright smiles,--

"I wish I was a total abstainer."

"Well," said Mr Oliphant in reply, with a smile, "I wish you were; but
why do _you_ wish it just now, my dear boy?"

"Oh, I've been thinking a good deal about it lately. I see you smile,
Hubert, but I really have been thinking--yes, thinking--I've been
thinking that I should like to do as you all do; you're just as happy
without beer and wine, and just as well too."

"And is that your only reason, dear Frank?" asked Mrs Oliphant.

"Oh no! that's not all; the plain truth is this, I can't help thinking
that if I keep getting fonder and fonder of beer and wine, as I'm doing
now, I shall get too fond of it by-and-by."

Mr Oliphant sighed, and poor Mary exclaimed,--

"Oh, Frank, don't say that."

"Ay, but it's true; don't you think, Mr Oliphant, that I should be
bette