of life, when it came to the worship of God, he found that only in the
ancient mother tongue could he "get liberty." As Hughie listened to the
solemn reading, and then to the prayer that followed, though he could
understand only a word now and again, he was greatly impressed with the
rhythmic, solemn cadence of the voice, and as he glanced through his
fingers at the old man's face, he was surprised to find how completely
it had changed. It was no longer the face of the stern and stubborn
autocrat, but of an earnest, humble, reverent man of God; and Hughie,
looking at him, wondered if he would not be altogether nicer with
his wife and boys after that prayer was done. He had yet to learn how
obstinate and even hard a man can be and still have a great "gift in
prayer."

From the old man's face, Hughie's glance wandered to his wife's, and
there was held fascinated. For the first time Hughie thought it was
beautiful, and more than that, he was startled to find that it reminded
him of his mother's. At once he closed his eyes, for he felt as if he
had been prying where he had no right.

After the prayer was over they all drew about the glowing polished
kitchen stove with the open front, and set themselves to enjoy that hour
which, more than any other, helps to weave into the memory the thoughts
and feelings that in after days are associated with home. Old Donald
drew forth his pipe, a pleased expectation upon his face, and after
cutting enough tobacco from the black plug which he pulled from his
trousers pocket, he rolled it fine, with deliberation, and packed it
carefully into his briar-root pipe, from which dangled a tin cap; then
drawing out some live coals from the fire, he with a quick motion picked
one up, set it upon the top of the tobacco, and holding it there with
his bare finger until Hughie was sure he would burn himself, puffed with