ed against me as the author of her bereavement, and as having
instilled into my son a liking for a soldier's life. She said it was all
owing to my getting him, from the time that he was able to read, to take
the newspaper in his hand and read it aloud to my cronies, and in which
there were accounts of nothing but wars and battles, of generals and
captains, and Bonaparte, of whom enough was foretold and enough could be
read in the Revelations. These murmurings grieved me the more, inasmuch as
my mind was in no way satisfied that they were without foundation. No man
knew better than I did, how easily the twig is bent; a passing breeze, the
lighting of a bird upon it, may do it; and as it is bent, so the branch or
the tree will be inclined. I, therefore, almost resolved not to permit
another newspaper to be brought within my door. But, somehow or other, it
became more necessary than ever. Every time it came it was like a letter
from Robie; and we read it from beginning to end, expecting always to hear
something of him or of his regiment. Even Agnes grew fond of it, and was
uneasy on the Saturdays if the postman was half-an-hour behind the time in
bringing it.

Full twelvemonths passed before we received a letter from him; and never
will I forget the delightful sensations that gushed into my bosom at the
sight of that letter. I trembled from head to foot with joy. I knew his
handwriting at the first glance, and so did his mother--just as well as if
he had begun "_dear parents_" on the back of it. It was only to be a penny,
and his mother could hardly get her hand into her pocket to give the copper
to the postman, she shook so excessively with joy and with agitation, and
kept saying to me--"Read, Roger! read! Oh, let me hear what my bairn says."

I could hardly keep my hand steady to open it; and, when I did break the
seal, I burst into tears at the same moment, and my eyes became as though I
were blind; and still his mother continued saying to me--"Oh, read! read!"

Twice, thrice, did I draw my sleeve across my eyes, and at last I read as
follows:--

"MY DEAR PARENTS,--I fear that my conduct has caused you many a miserable
day, and many a sleepless night. But, even for my offence, cruel as it has
been, I trust there is forgiveness in a parent's breast. I do not think
that I ever spoke of it to you, but, from the very earliest period that I
could think, the wish was formed in my mind to be a soldier. When I used to
be spel