zeal for the opinions for which he suffered, which never left him,
but served as the great moving impulse of his whole subsequent
life.

"I tell you, you are not fit to be in a gentleman's house,"
thundered the father. "A rank atheist, a lying infidel! It is
against nature that you should call a parsonage your home."

"It is not particularly home-like," said the son, bitterly. "I can
leave it when you please."

"Can!" exclaimed the father, in a fury, "you WILL leave it, sir,
and this very day too! I disown you from this time. I'll have no
atheist for my son! Change your views or leave the house at once."

Perhaps he expected his son to make some compromise; if so he
showed what a very slight knowledge he had of his character. Luke
Raeburn had certainly not been prepared for such extreme harshness,
but with the pain and grief and indignation there rose in his heart
a mighty resoluteness. With a face as hard and rugged as the
granite rocks without, he wished his father goodbye, and obeyed his
orders.

Then had followed such a struggle with the world as few men would
have gone through with. Cut off from all friends and relations by
his avowal of atheism, and baffled again and again in seeking to
earn his living, he had more than once been on the very brink of
starvation. By sheer force of will he had won his way, had risen
above adverse circumstances, had fought down obstacles, and
conquered opposing powers. Before long he had made fresh friends