in the homes of the people they wrought and taught. At times
it seemed to the minister that they were spending their strength for
naught, and at such times he bitterly grudged, not his own toils, but
those of his wife. None knew better than he how well fitted she was,
both by the native endowments of her mind and by the graces of her
character, to fill the highest sphere, and he sometimes grew impatient
that she should spend herself without stint and reap no adequate reward.

These were his thoughts as he lay on his couch, on the evening of the
last Sabbath in the old church, after a day's work more than usually
exhausting. The new church was to be opened the following week. For
months it had been the burden of their prayers that at the dedication
of their church, which had been built and paid for at the cost of
much thought and toil, there should be some "signal mark of the divine
acceptance." No wonder the minister was more than usually depressed
to-night.

"There is not much sign of movement among the dry bones," he said to his
wife. "They are as dry and as dead as ever."

His wife was silent for some time, for she, too, had her moments of
doubt and fear, but she said: "I think there is some sign. The people
were certainly much impressed this morning, and the Bible class was very
large, and they were very attentive."

"So they are every day," said the minister, rather bitterly. "But what
does it amount to? There is not a sign of one of these young people
'coming forward.' Just think, only one young man a member of the church,
and he hasn't got much spunk in him. And many of the older men remain as
hard as the nether millstone."

"I really think," said his wife, "that a number of the young people
would 'come forward' if some one would make a beginning. They are all
very shy."

"So you always say," said her husband, with a touch of impatience;
"but there is no shyness in other things, in their frolics and their
fightings. I am sure this last outrageous business is enough to break
one's heart."

"What do you mean?" said his wife.

"Oh, I suppose you will hear soon enough, so I need not try to keep it
from you. It was Long John Cameron told me. It is strange that Hughie
has not heard. Indeed, perhaps he has, but since his beloved Ranald is
involved, he is keeping it quiet."

"What is it?" said his wife, anxiously.

"Oh, nothing less than a regular pitched battle between the McGregors
and the McRaes of the Si