gold which really was the ruling passion in his breast.

The argument so long pending he knew was now to be finally settled, and
he was by no means unprepared for the discussion. He came slowly down
stairs, counting the points he wished to make on his fingers, and quite
resolved neither to be coaxed nor bullied out of his own individual
opinion. He was a handsome, stalwart fellow, as Scotchmen of
two-and-twenty go, for it takes about thirty-five years to fill up and
perfect the massive frames of "the men of old Gaul." About his
thirty-fifth year David would doubtless be a man of noble presence; but
even now there was a sense of youth and power about him that was very
attractive, as with a grave smile he lifted a book, and comfortably
disposed himself in an easy chair by the window. For David knew better
than begin the conversation; any advantages the defendant might have he
determined to retain.

After a few minutes' silence his father said, "What are you reading,
Davie? It ought to be a guid book that puts guid company in the
background."

David leisurely turned to the title page. "'Selections from the Latin
Poets,' father."

"A fool is never a great fool until he kens Latin. Adam Smith or some
book o' commercial economics wad set ye better, Davie."

"Adam Smith is good company for them that are going his way, father: but
there is no way a man may take and not find the humanities good
road-fellows."