itself had met with no better success than his own.

The fact that Rabbie was subject to human weaknesses of any description, or had ever experienced any other passions than those arising from patriotic fervour or political animus, was concealed from Philip for many a year. Once only did James Nimmo lift a corner of the curtain.

"He went tae his grave at seven-and-thirty," he mentioned one day.

"Why?" enquired the ingenuous Philip.

"Because they had drained the life oot o' him," replied James Nimmo, his face hardening. "I mind a vairse he yince wrote. It micht ha' been his ain epitaph:—