election, and s'ould ask ye to comfort him, what would ye tell him?"

"I would say, dinna meddle wi' decrees. Never gang back o' the promises. They are strang eneuch to bear us up, and sweet eneuch to comfort us; and I think a' we hae to do is to lay hand o' them as they are held oot to us. And I will tell ye, Rab, what I honestly think: mair folk catch at the question o' election as an excuse for putting off God's claims upon them, than through fear that they are not o' the elect."

CHAPTER V. A YEAR OF GLOOM.

Spring came, but Robert Murdoch was still in his chair. It was then evident that not only his feet had been injured, but that he had also contracted disease. The physician plainly told Wullie that his brother's working days were over. "It is but right to tell you," said he, "that he has consumption; and though its work may not be swift, it will be sure." Honest Wullie staggered under the weight of this sad intelligence. But he took this trouble where he had long since learned to take all others—to his Father in heaven. He also tried to appear cheerful, though his heart was very heavy.

Rab began to think that his health had been undermined, and he became very despondent. During the day he would sit many hours without speaking; but in the evening he would converse with his brother on indifferent subjects. Wullie soon perceived that he was speaking of that which was least in his thoughts. Therefore, one evening when Jeannie and the children were in another room, he endeavored to lead Rab to talk of that which more nearly concerned his true welfare.

"Hoo is it," said he, "that ye speak aboot sic things? I can see right weel that your heart is no in your talk. It would be better to lay aside sic pretences, for ye hae na deceived me frae the vera first. Ye hae a trouble that is pressing sair upon you. Will ye no tell me at ance what it is? Perhaps I might comfort you."

"Wullie," replied Rab, "ye hae had ane look into my heart, and noo I will mak it bare to you. I am thinking I will never be a sound man again. It isna my feet alane, but I hae a sair pain when I cough; and I hae nae mair strength than wee Jamie; and it is nae wonder, for I sweat sae muckle o' nights. But that is not all: the end of it will be death—death to the body at least; and wha kens but it will be death to the soul as weel! It is this that troubles me. I sit and ponder it o'er and o'er, and Jeannie thinks perhaps that I am ill-tempered; but I canna bring mysel to tell her. It would break her heart if I were to dee without hope. Puir lass! I hae never been gude eneuch for her. Many a time I hae pitied her that she wasna better mated."

Wullie was much moved. As soon as he could trust his voice he replied, "Rab, I hae seen all that ye hae tauld me, and mair than ye hae tauld me. Ye are seeking to find favor in the sight o' God; and ye are looking within yoursel to find something to recommend you to him, but ye canna find onything. Ye hae been vexing yoursel wi' a notion a'thegither wrang. Hae ye never understood that ye are to come with a' your guilt upon you, and fall doun at the feet o' sovereign Mercy, and ask God to accept you as ye are, since naething but the bluid o' the Son of God has power to cleanse you frae your sins? That is the way you are to come to God. Ye shall read it for yoursel." Handing him the Bible, he continued, "Read frae the eleventh to the twenty-fifth verse o' the fifteenth chapter o' St. Luke, and ye will see if the prodigal son did mair than just come to his faither."

Rab read the story carefully.

"Ye are right, Wullie. He went wi' a' his fauts, and was thinking to be coonted as a servant; but he wasna, for the servants were called to put the best robe on him, and a ring on his hand, and shoon on his feet."

"Ye hae missed ane strang point, Rab, if ye didna notice that the mere sight o' the sinfu' son, wi' his face turned hameward, gave the faither sic joy that he ran to meet him while he was yet a lang way off, and fell on his neck and kissed him."

"Sae he did; sae he did. Weel, it was sae full I couldna tak it all in at ance."

Jeannie had returned and sat quietly listening. She had been praying that her husband might be brought to see the promises so clearly as to be led to accept them. Finally she ventured to speak.

"It is plain that a' the young man did, saving his rising and gaen to his faither, was to confess his fauts; and he was met wi' compassion even before he made any confession. So ye see, Rab, God is waiting to forgive if we forsake sin and rise up and go to him. I am sure that I, for ane, need a strang freend to flee to when doots and fears get hold o' me."

"And I feel the need o' sic a freend mair than ye think, Jeannie," said Rab. "Wha will lead me to him?"

"I hae pointed you to the Word o' God, my brither. Ye maun ask to be led by the Holy Spirit. Meantime ye hae my puir prayers that ye may be accepted," said Wullie.

Honest Wullie soon found his hands more than full. Expenses had greatly increased, and were not likely soon to diminish. He now had the entire charge of providing for his brother's family. Besides, there were extra expenses in the way of medicines and occasional visits from the physician. It required all his energy to meet these constantly recurring demands on his resources. The remainder of the small sum he had laid by was spent. Autumn came, and he found that his wages would barely purchase provisions for the winter. There could be no surplus for an emergency. Rab's family now numbered five instead of four, for another little girl had come to be cared for; and the father's illness increased. Wullie felt that he was being sorely tried. He was obliged to apply to his employer to advance him money.

Farmer Lindsay was accompanied by a strange gentleman when honest Wullie met him and preferred his request. The money was immediately put into his hand.

"How is this," said the stranger when Wullie was gone, "that you advance money in that fashion? If he cannot meet his expenses this year, how will he do it next year with this amount deducted?"

"I admit," said Farmer Lindsay, "that I couldna do it wi' a' my men; but wi' honest Wullie it is a' right. He has ta'en his brither's family into his hoose, and there is seckness amang them. The brither himsel is seck, and his wife has a wee bit bairn, and they hae na onything laid by. I am right sorry for Wullie, for a better man never put his hand to a sickle. I would help him though I s'ould never be paid. But there is nae danger o' that. He hasna come to his name withoot gude reason. I ken him weel. He has a generous nature; and he is aye ready to help ithers when he has the means in his hands."

Here the subject dropped. But the gentleman, who was a cousin of Mrs. Lindsay's, had also a generous nature, and he did not forget honest, struggling Wullie. The next day when he left he put a ten-pound note into Mr. Lindsay's hand, saying, "Give this, with my compliments, to the man that has earned the name of honest Wullie."

Wullie went to town, paid the doctor's bill, bought a few delicacies for the sick, and some necessaries, among which was a pair of thick warm shoes for Jeannie. He paid out nearly all the money he had taken, but still more things were needed. When he reached home he gave the shoes to Jeannie. "I hae brought you some shoon," said he. "Noo your feet will no be weet." Jeannie had not expected them. Her happy surprise gave him no small pleasure. But the pleasure suddenly vanished; for no sooner had he taken his seat by the fire than Jamie climbed on his knee and asked,