ogs. Graeme was
about to open the door, but I held up my hand and beckoned him to me. In
a vacant stall, where was a pile of straw, a number of men were grouped.
Sandy, leaning against the tying-post upon which the stable-lantern
hung, was reading; Nelson was kneeling in front of him and gazing into
the gloom beyond; Baptiste lay upon his stomach, his chin in his hands
and his upturned eyes fastened upon Sandy's face; Lachlan Campbell sat
with his hands clasped about his knees, and two other men sat near him.
Sandy was reading the undying story of the Prodigal, Nelson now and then
stopping him to make a remark. It was a scene I have never been able
to forget. To-day I pause in my tale, and see it as clearly as when I
looked through the chink upon it years ago. The long, low stable, with
log walls and upright hitching-poles; the dim outlines of the horses
in the gloom of the background, and the little group of rough, almost
savage-looking men, with faces wondering and reverent, lit by the misty
light of the stable-lantern.

After the reading, Sandy handed the book to Nelson, who put it in his
pocket, saying, 'That's for us, boys, ain't it?'

'Ay,' said Lachlan; 'it is often that has been read in my hearing, but
I am afraid it will not be for me whatever,' and he swayed himself
slightly as he spoke, and his voice was full of pain.

'The minister said I might come,' said old Nelson, earnestly and
hopefully.

'Ay, but you are not Lachlan Campbell, and you hef not had his
privileges. My father was a godly elder in the Free Church of Scotland,
and never a night or morning but we took the Books.'

'Yes, but He said "any man,"' persisted Nelson, putting his hand on
Lachlan's knee. But Lachlan shook his head.

'Dat young feller,' said Baptiste; 'wha's hees nem, heh?'

'He has no name. It is just a parable,' explained Sandy.

'He's got no nem? He's just a parom'ble? Das no young feller?' asked
Baptiste anxiously; 'das mean noting?'

Then Nelson took him in hand and explained to him the meaning, while
Baptiste listened even more eagerly, ejaculating softly, 'ah, voila!
bon! by gar!' When Nelson had finished he broke out, 'Dat young feller,
his name Baptiste, heh? and de old Fadder he's le bon Dieu? Bon! das
good story for me. How you go back? You go to de pries'?'

'The book doesn't say priest or any one else,' said Nelson. 'You go back
in yourself, you see?'

'Non; das so, sure nuff. Ah!'--as if a light broke in upon