"The very thing of all others I have been longing for," exclaimed Donald, as he finished Margaret's letter. "I have ample to enable him to come out, and I am sure Mr Todd will find employment for him. But Margaret and Janet must not remain with straitened means; I wish they would come out also. I will send home sufficient for their voyage, and use every argument to induce them to come. If they will not they must spend the money on their own support at home. Margaret will, I am sure, be perfectly happy out here, though Janet would find the country rather strange, yet neither of them would mind the rough life they would be compelled to live, any more than others do, many of whom have been far more accustomed than they are to the luxuries and refinements of the old country."

Thus Donald meditated till he persuaded himself that in a few months he should see his sister and brother and their faithful nurse arrive to take possession of the log-hut he proposed building for them. He lost no time in writing a letter, and in arranging with Mr Todd to send home a considerable portion of the salary due to him. He insisted that Margaret should receive whatever David did not require for his passage-money and journey to the township, and should spend it on the support of Janet and herself, should they decline accompanying David. He thought it impossible that they could refuse, and forthwith set to work to build a substantial log-hut on a plot of ground which, by Mr Todd's advice and assistance, he had purchased not far from Mr Skinner's location.

Mr Skinner had made inquiries about his family when he heard of his hopes of being joined by his brother and sister and old nurse. He at once begged that he would apply to him for whatever he might require for their comfort and convenience.

"I am a bachelor, and as my personal expenses are trifling, I shall consider it a privilege to be allowed to be of use to those who are so well deserving of assistance," he observed. "That old nurse of yours has excited my warm admiration. Her knowledge may be limited, but from your account she has lived a practical Christian life, and though you may justly desire to be independent, and to support yourself by your own labour, you cannot wish her and your sister to decline whatever aid God puts it into the hearts of others to offer to them."

Donald warmly thanked his friend; and seeing the justness of his remarks, without hesitation accepted his offer. His mind was thereby greatly relieved from any anxiety he might have felt in supporting those who had become dependent upon him, till he himself should be able to gain sufficient for the purpose.

He wrote immediately to Alec Galbraith, but some time passed, and no answer was received to his letter. He then got Mr Todd to make inquiries of some acquaintances at Montreal, and through them he at last heard that after the house in which Alec had been engaged had broken up, the young man having vainly attempted to find employment in other firms, had left the place without letting anyone know in what direction he had gone. He had created many enemies by the opinions he publicly expressed on religious and political subjects, and was looked upon as a disloyal and dangerous person.

This account greatly grieved Donald, who had not supposed it possible that the fine manly and talented friend of his youth would be otherwise than liked, and succeed wherever he might go. "What can possibly have changed Alec so much?" he asked himself more than once.

Donald mentioned the subject to Mr Skinner.

"What was the foundation of his good qualities?" inquired his friend. "Were they built on the rock which, when the floods of trial and temptation came would stand firm, or on the sandy soil, whence they were sure to be washed away."

Donald considered. "He resided in Germany for some time, and I know that his religious opinions underwent a change for the worse, and from some remarks Margaret let drop, that his mother was very anxious about him."

"That is a sufficient explanation," observed Mr Skinner, with a sigh. "We must pray that like the prodigal son he may find that he has husks alone to eat, and be brought back to the loving Father, who, with open arms, is ever ready to receive those who, having made that important discovery, return to Him."

The two Christian friends knelt down and offered up their petitions that the wanderer might be found out and restored.

Few people in the settlement were more busy than Donald Morrison. Besides building his log house, at which he worked with his own hands, and superintending the clearing of the ground, he had his official duties to attend to, which he in no way neglected; and, as the settlement increased, they became more onerous than at first. "If David were with me he would find plenty to do," he said, over and over again. "I wish that he were coming, and I have no doubt Mr Todd would obtain for him a situation under me."

When Donald wrote home he had begged his brother and sister not to wait till they could write and announce their intended coming, but if they could persuade Janet to accompany them, to set off immediately. As each party of settlers arrived he looked out eagerly, hoping to find those so dear to him among them. He was destined frequently to be disappointed.

At last, one evening he was seated in his new house, now nearly completed, busily employed on some plans which he had taken home from Mr Todd's office, when he was aroused by a knock at the door. On opening it he saw standing before him a tall slight young man, whom he knew by his bonnet and tartan coat to be Scotch, "Does one Donald Morrison live here?" asked the stranger, gazing eagerly at his face. The moment he spoke Donald knew the voice; it was David's, and the brothers' hands were clasped together.

"I should not have known you," exclaimed David, scanning Donald's sunburnt countenance, and sturdy strongly built figure.

"Nor I you, till I heard you speak," answered Donald. "But have you not brought Margaret and Janet?"

"I am sorry to say no. Janet would not venture across the salt ocean, and Margaret would not quit her. Janet, indeed, did her utmost to dissuade me from coming to this land of impenetrable forests, fierce red men, savage wolves, roaring cataracts, and numberless other dangers, such as she believes it is, and her dread of exposing Margaret to them, I suspect, made her more determined to stay at home than had she herself alone been asked to come, as for our sakes I believe she would have risked all could she have been satisfied that Margaret would have been in safety. Finding all my arguments useless, I set off as you wished me."

"She is a good faithful creature, and we must still hope to overcome her fears for our dear sister's safety," said Donald. "However, I am thankful you have come, and I am sure that you will not be disappointed."

Donald lost no time in placing an abundant supply of bachelor's fare, prepared by his own hands, on the table. As may be supposed, the brothers sat up the greater part of the night, talking over the past as well as their future prospects.

Donald was not disappointed in his hopes of obtaining employment for David, Mr Todd being glad at once, on his brother's recommendation, to secure his services. David gave his mind to the work he had undertaken, and soon became a very efficient assistant to Donald. Though he looked pale and delicate when he first arrived, and was unable to go through the physical exertion required of him without fatigue, he rapidly gained strength, and in a short time became strong and hardy.

Shortly after his arrival Donald took him to call on Mr Skinner, who welcomed him kindly, and led him to enter freely into conversation, that he might, as Donald suspected, ascertain his opinions. Donald, when speaking of his brother, had merely stated that he declined entering the ministry, and preferred coming out to join him as a settler. Mr Skinner allowed several days to pass, during which they frequently met, before he offered any remarks to David on the choice he had made.

"You have abandoned the most important of callings, my young friend, for one which, though honourable and useful, and which may obtain to you worldly advantages, is not, in the nature of things, likely to render spiritual service to your fellow-creatures," he observed.

"Several reasons prompted me to take the course I have pursued," answered David. "The principle one, however, was, that I felt myself unfitted for the ministry, and had a strong desire to come out and join my brother. I had no spiritual life in myself, and could not impart it to others."

"Certainly you could not impart to others what you did not possess yourself," observed Mr Skinner. "But, my dear friend, are you content to remain without that spiritual life? It is required, not only for those engaged in the ministry, but for all who rightly bear the name of Christ, for all who desire to be His subjects, to enter into the kingdom of heaven. The Holy Spirit alone can impart it to you or to others, but having it, whether set apart or not for Christ's service, you may be made the instrument by which many of your fellow-creatures may obtain it likewise. It should be the object of all Christ's subjects to win souls for Him. When Christ spoke to Nicodemus and told him that he must be born again, He addressed a learned man, an expounder of the law of Moses. If a physician, a merchant, or person of any other calling, had come to Him He would have said the same. And now I entreat you to ask yourself the question, which Christ would have put had you gone to Him. He would have said, as He said to Nicodemus, 'Ye must be born again.' He would not have first inquired whether or not you were intended for the ministry. He would have said, as He does to all human beings, high and low, rich and poor, men and women, boys and girls, who desire to live with Him in heaven for ever and ever. You may be very industrious, and energetic, and honest, and moral, and well conducted in your secular calling, but that will not stand you instead of what Christ requires. The old man must be put off, the new nature be received. I repeat, 'You must be born again.'"

"And how can that be brought about?" exclaimed Donald, much perturbed in mind.

"Christ says, 'the wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh and whither it goeth, so is everyone that is born of the Spirit.' Christ did not leave Nicodemus with this answer, which might well have perplexed him, as it has those who have turned aside from it as incomprehensible; but He shows how man must do his part to bring about that new birth. It is by simple faith, by taking God at His word, by looking to Christ and trusting to His blood as all-sufficient to wash away sin, to His sacrifice as being accepted in lieu of our punishment. He explains it in those most blessed words—that most perfect of all similes—'As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have eternal life.' Know and feel that you are bitten by sin, dying eternally from its rank poison, and then look to Jesus as the certain, the only cure, just as the Israelites, bitten by the fiery serpents, were commanded to look at the brazen serpent, held up by Moses in the wilderness, as the only way by which they could be cured. Thus, through simple faith, is the necessary change brought about. All God demands from us is faith. He, through the Holy Spirit, does the rest. My dear young friend read that all-important portion of God's Word with earnest prayer for enlightenment, and you will understand the simple plan of salvation, which His loving mercy has formed, far more clearly than you can by any words I may use. The question is, Do you believe that the Bible is God's Word, that Jesus Christ, His Son, came into the world to suffer, the just for the unjust—that the world, through Him, might be saved? If you do, then hear His words,—'He that believeth on me is not condemned.' If you do believe, then you are born again, for all who are not born again remain under condemnation. What you require, what we all require, is more grace, more faith, more love, more trust. For all those things we can pray, and wrestle, and strive, and God will not allow us to pray in vain. Faith may be a strong rope or a thin rope, so thin that we dread its giving way; but God forms it, God holds it fast. In His hands it will not break. Let us then trust in Him, and ever seek the aid of the Holy Spirit to hold us up, and we shall find the thin line increasing in size till it becomes a stout cable, capable of, ay certain of, holding our wave-tossed bark amid the fiercest tempest which can break around us."

David returned home rejoicing. He did not regret abandoning his former intention and coming out to Canada; but he resolved to give himself up to the study of the Bible, and while following his secular calling, to assist his friend in spreading the truths of the gospel among the surrounding population.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

DONALD'S EXPEDITION THROUGH THE FOREST.—ATTACKED BY WOLVES.—RELIEVED FROM THEM BY A HURRICANE, AND NARROWLY ESCAPES BEING CRUSHED BY FALLING TREES.

Donald having David now to attend to his office work, frequently made expeditions to long distances where it was proposed to establish fresh townships. These were performed on foot, and he had become so expert a backwood's man, that he had no hesitation in trusting himself without a guide. He, however, carried his gun, and in summer a fishing rod, that he might supply himself with provisions by the way. His gun also he required for defence against any wolves or bears he might encounter, both of which were at that time common in the country, though long since driven off to the wilder regions of the far west and north.

He was returning from one of these expeditions in the early spring, when night approaching, as he was making his way through the forest, he prepared to encamp. His axe quickly enabled him to cut some sticks for his shanty, for which a quantity of large pieces of birch bark scattered about served as a covering. The tops of some young spruce firs strewed on the ground made a luxurious couch, while there was no lack of dry broken branches to furnish a supply of firewood. He quickly formed his hunter's camp, and commenced cooking a couple of fish he had caught in a stream he had shortly before forded, and a bird he had shot during the day. This, with a handful of Indian meal made into porridge, gave him a sumptuous repast. After reading God's Word by the light of his blazing fire, he commended himself to His merciful care, and having renewed his fire, lay down within his hut fearless of danger.

His journey had been long and fatiguing, which made him sleep soundly. He was at length awakened by a long low howl. He opened his eyes and discovered that his fire had gone out, but he was still too much oppressed by sleep to rise. He was under the impression that he had merely dreamed of the noise he had heard. It shortly came again, however, and this time he was aware that it was a reality. Mixed with the howl were the sounds of savage barks and yelps. He knew them to be the voices of wolves, disputing, probably, over the body of some deer they had pulled down, or found dead after it had escaped from the hunter's rifle. Their repast finished, they might come in the direction of his camp. Starting up he prepared to relight his fire, and drawing the wood together, which he had kept for the purpose, he quickly produced a flame, and then looked to the priming of his gun to be ready in case of an attack. To sleep longer was out of the question; he therefore sat up, listening to the appalling sounds which ever and anon echoed through the forest. He had hitherto in his journeys never fallen in with a pack of wolves, though he had frequently met solitary individuals, whose savage jaws had shown what fearful foes, a number combined together, would prove. His stout Highland heart was not, however, inclined to give way to fear; besides which, his faith was firm, and he knew in whom he trusted. At the same time, not being a mere enthusiast, he felt that it was his duty to consider what were the best means of preserving his life by his own exertions, should the wolves discover him, and venture on an attack. He first collected all the fuel he could find near at hand, and made his fire blaze up brightly. As, however, it might not last till the morning, it occurred to him that it would be wise to examine the neighbouring trees, and to select one up which he might climb, should the savage creatures come round him. The larger trees were inaccessible; but he found one near at hand, the lower branches of which he might reach, could he manage to drive a few pegs into the trunk. With his axe he at once cut some holes as high as he could reach, and then sharpening several pieces of wood, hardening them in the fire. The trunk was soft, and to his satisfaction he found that he could make a ladder, by which he could reach the lowest branches, and thence gain a part of the tree which would afford him a secure seat, and enable him to fire down upon his assailants, and, as he hoped, drive them away.

The night wind blowing keenly, he had no wish to take his seat on the tree till compelled by necessity. Having therefore made his arrangements he again threw fuel on the fire, and sat down within the shelter of his hut, with his gun by his side. The howling of the wolves had ceased, and he hoped that they had turned away from him, and that he should not be troubled by a visit. A feeling of security stole over him, and fatigue overcoming his prudence, he again dropped off to sleep.

How long he had thus sat with his eyes closed he could not tell, when he was awakened by hearing the savage howls of the wolves close to him. Starting up he caught sight of numberless dark forms, with glaring eyes, making a circle round the fire, which they were evidently unwilling to approach, eager as they were to seize their prey. The fire had burnt somewhat low, and he feared that should the flames cease to ascend they might make a dash across the embers, and rush upon him.

The tree he had selected was at hand, and he now regretted that he had not ascended it at first. A few dry sticks were still within his reach. Springing out of his hut he seized them, and threw them on the fire. At that moment a savage wolf, either one of the leaders of the pack, or more hungry than its companions, made a rush at him from one side. Happily he was prepared, and firing, the creature rolled over. The instant it was dead the rest of the animals sprang on the body, tearing it to pieces. Donald on this, after re-loading his gun, having stirred up the fire so as to make it burn more brightly, ran towards the tree, up which he began to climb. The short delay of loading his gun might have proved fatal, for part of the pack perceiving him, came yelping on furiously, and he had scarcely got his feet out of the reach of their fangs before the whole pack had collected round him. His gun, which he had slung at his back, being rather weighty, he was afraid that the pegs would give way, and that he should fall among the ravenous jaws below him, but he succeeded at length in reaching a firm branch, and he drew himself up on to it, and thence climbed to the point he had selected.

Here he sat securely. Though he had escaped from the wolves they showed no signs of quitting him; the light of the fire, which still blazed up brightly, exhibiting their savage forms, as they stood howling beneath the tree, or circled round and round, looking up with eager eyes towards him. He refrained from firing, believing that they were more likely to go away when they found that they could not reach him, than if he should kill some of their number, when the pack would remain to devour the carcases of their companions. At last, when morning dawned, and they still continued round the tree, he began to lose patience, and to fear that they would carry on the siege till they had starved him out.

"I cannot kill the whole pack," he said to himself, "but I may knock over so many that the others may at length take warning and make their escape."

He had no difficulty in firing, and as a branch offered him a good rest for his gun, he was able to take steady aim, and never missed a shot.

He had killed half a dozen or more, still the wolves continued round the tree. It was in a dense part of the forest, through which the beams of the sun did not penetrate, or the creatures, disliking the bright light of day, would probably have retreated to their fastness. Hour after hour passed by, the air became unusually sultry and hot, even in the forest. Donald was growing, at the same time, very hungry, and though, as yet, he had rather enjoyed the adventure, he now began to feel seriously anxious about his safety. He had but a few bullets remaining, and the small shot in his pouch would produce but little effect on the heads of the wolves, and only render them more savage. He waited for some time, and then again began to fire, hoping that the sound of his piece might be heard by any party of Indians or travellers in the forest, who would come to his assistance, for he knew that the wolves, cowardly though savage, will seldom venture to attack several people together. He had expended his bullets. He felt more and more sensible of the increased heat, and on looking upwards through the branches he observed an unusual appearance in the sky. The wolves, at the same instant, became silent, and then seized, so it seemed, by a panic, the whole pack set off at full speed amid the trees, and were lost to sight.

The heat grew more intense than ever, not a breath of wind was stirring, the thunder roared in the distance, gradually the sky, as he could see it through the branches, became of an inky blackness, till a dark pall collected overhead, then the clouds appeared to break up, and whirled round and round each other in a state of dreadful commotion, forked lightening darted from the heavens, and the thunder, in rapid heavy peals, roared and rattled again and again till the very trees of the forest seemed to shake with the concussion. Far away out of the forest arose a black cone-shaped column, which soon joined itself to the mass of clouds overhead, the lightening flashing with greater vividness and rapidity, the thunder becoming more deafening than ever. The sound increased to a dreadful roar, coming nearer and nearer. He had no doubt that it was indeed a whirlwind sweeping through the forest, he could hear the tree tops dashed together, the rending branches, the crashing of falling trees, as the stout branches were twisted round and round, torn up by the roots, or snapped off as if they had been mere saplings. Should the devastating tempest pass across where he stood, he could scarcely hope to avoid being crushed by the falling trees.

He now remembered an open space a short distance off, which, had the ground not been swampy, he would have selected for his camp. He hurried towards it. As he made his way through the forest he could hear behind him those dreadful sounds which betokened the rapid approach of the hurricane. Already the tree tops were waving furiously above his head, as he sprang out into the open space, towards which he was directing his steps. In an instant after the tall trees came crashing down, and almost lifted off his feet, he found himself encircled by masses of leaves and boughs torn off and whirled through the air. On he sped till he gained the centre of the meadow, when, on looking back, a wide opening appeared in the part of the forest through which he had lately passed. An avenue had been formed nearly two hundred yards in width, in which not a tree remained standing, while it seemed to extend far away into the depths of the forest.

As he was anxious to continue his journey, as soon as all was quiet, he set off in the direction taken by the newly formed avenue. He had to proceed a considerable distance towards the track which led to the township, and he kept as near it as the fallen trees would allow, that he might observe the havoc which had been produced. He calculated, as he walked along, that upwards of three miles of forest had been levelled of the width already mentioned, and that many thousand trees had, in a few seconds, been destroyed.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

DONALD RESUMING HIS JOURNEY, HEARS A CRY OF DISTRESS.—FINDS A MAN UNDER A FALLEN TREE, WHO, AFTER CARRYING HIM SOME DISTANCE, HE DISCOVERS TO BE ALEC GALBRAITH.—THEY CAMP FOR THE NIGHT.

Donald was about to leave the scene of havoc caused by the whirlwind, when a groan, as if from a person in pain, reached his ears. It was repeated with a faint cry of "Help! help!" He made his way among the fallen branches in the direction from whence the sound came. At length he saw, beneath a fallen tree, a man of strong frame, so pressed down by a bough that he could not extricate himself.

"Get me out of this, for I can endure the agony no longer," cried the man.

Donald hastened up to him. "I'll do my best to release you, my friend; but let me see how I can best manage it," he said. At first he thought of chopping away the bough, but then he saw that the man would suffer by the blows. He soon, on examination, determined how alone it could be done. With his axe he cut two pieces of wood, one of which would serve as a crowbar, the other thicker and shorter, to place under the bough after he had raised it. It was a work of time, and his heart was grieved at the pain which the poor man was enduring during the operation.

At length, by great exertion, he raised the bough sufficiently off the crushed limb to enable him to drag out the sufferer.

"Water! water!" were the only words the latter could utter. Donald had a small quantity in a flask, with which he moistened his lips. It somewhat revived the man; but how, in his crippled state, he could be conveyed to the township, was now the question. The stranger was strongly built and heavy, and Donald felt that, sturdy as he himself was, he could scarcely hope to carry him along the uneven track so great a distance. Still, to leave him in his present exhausted condition was not to be thought of; the wolves, too, from which he had escaped, might come back before he could possibly return with assistance.

"I must take you on my back, my friend," he said to the stranger, who appeared to have recovered sufficiently to understand him. "I see no other way of preserving your life. Trust to me. I can at all events carry you some distance before nightfall, we will then encamp, and continue our journey to-morrow."

"I am not worth the exertion and trouble it must cause you," said the man, gloomily. "The pain overcame me, and I would that the trunk itself had fallen on me, and put me out of existence altogether."

"Nay, nay, my friend," answered Donald. "You should rather be thankful to the merciful God who, though He has allowed you to suffer injury, has preserved your life, that you may yet have an opportunity of devoting it to His service."

"I do not comprehend your philosophy. I know that I have been suffering unspeakable agony. I have nothing to be thankful for on that account," answered the man.

"We will not dispute the point now, my friend," said Donald. "But let us make the best of our way to the township. This stout stick, which I used as crowbar, will serve to support me as I walk. Now let me lift you on my shoulders, and we will proceed on our journey."

Donald, on this, stooped down, and placed himself so that the stranger could cling to his back, and with his heavy weight he made his way through the forest.

He had not gone far, however, before he began to fear that he should make but slow progress, even should he not be compelled to abandon his intentions altogether, and to leave the unhappy sufferer by himself in the forest. He staggered on till he reached a small stream, where he could obtain water to quench the sufferer's burning thirst. He examined also the injured limb—the bone did not appear to be broken, although the flesh was fearfully bruised and discoloured.

The clay was already far advanced, and when in a short time he began to feel the strain which had been put on his own muscles, he came to the resolution of encamping where they were, and should no one appear, to continue the journey the next day.

Having first bathed the sufferer's leg in the cold waters of the stream, and bound it up as he best could, he commenced making preparations for encamping, by cutting some spruce fir tops for a bed, collecting stakes and slabs of birch bark to form a hut, and dry branches for a fire. This did not take him long. He hurried through the work, for he wished to shoot some birds or catch some fish for supper. Having lighted a fire, he left his patient, suffering less apparently than before, and went off up the stream hoping to find the necessary provisions.

He was more successful even than he expected, and returned with an ample supply of fish and fowl. Hitherto the stranger had been in too much pain to speak more than a few words. The food greatly revived him; and as he sat up, leaning against the side of the hut, Donald observed that his eyes were fixed on him with an inquiring look. Donald had spoken several times in broad Scotch.

"It must be so," exclaimed the stranger at length, "though I am not surprised, Donald Morrison, that you do not know me."

Donald gazed eagerly at the stranger's countenance, then leaning forward, grasped his hand.

"Yes, I know you now, Alec Galbraith, my dear friend," he exclaimed, "though till this moment I had no suspicion who you were. How thankful I am that I should have been sent to your help."

Donald then told Alec how anxiously he had been inquiring for him, and how sorry he had been at being unable to discover where he was. "I don't like to make you talk now, though," he added. "You must tell me all about yourself by-and-by."

"That would not take long, Donald," answered Alec. "Though, as the subject is not a pleasant one, I will gladly defer it. Just before I had discovered who you were I had been intending to insist on your leaving me till you could send some one back from the township to bring me in, if any one could be found to perform so thankless an office for a wretched pauper like me. I had been counting on my strong arm and resolution to make my way in the backwoods, as many another determined fellow has done, and now I find myself suddenly brought down, and for what I can tell to the contrary, a helpless cripple for life."

"You are right in supposing that I would not leave you, my dear Alec," answered Donald gently. "Indeed, I would not have done so had you been a stranger. Trust to God's loving mercy for the future. Your leg is not, I hope, materially injured, and on your recovery you may be able to carry out the plan you proposed, for I feel sure you will find employment for your head as well as your arm, and the two together, in this magnificent country, will secure you all you can require. But oh, Alec, if you would but put faith in the love of God and His protecting care you would no longer be in dread of the future."

Alec sat silent for some minutes. "If God is such as I was always taught to suppose Him, He can only visit with His vengeance a being like myself, who has dared His power, and done numberless things which He is said to prohibit. No, I feel that I am a wretched outcast sinner in His sight, worthy only of punishment. He has for some time past been pursuing me with His vengeance, and I see no reason why He should stop till He has crushed me quite."

"Of course, my dear Alec, you are perfectly right in your estimation of yourself, and right, too, with regard to God, if you judge Him as man judges. His justice demands your punishment, but His love and mercy would preserve you if you would accept the plan He has formed for saving you and restoring you to that favour which you have justly lost. He asks you to do what you have just done, to acknowledge yourself a sinner, and now do what He demands besides, and throw yourself unreservedly upon Him."

"Your system is a beautiful one, Donald, but I confess that I cannot comprehend it," said Alec, with a groan, produced by the pain he was suffering, then he added, in his old careless and somewhat sarcastic tone, "Tell me, old fellow, is it thoroughly orthodox."

"It is according to God's word, and that I dare not dispute," answered Donald. "And I will pray that His Holy Spirit will make it as clear to your mind, and bring it home to your soul, as He has to mine. We will not, however, talk further now, as it is important that you should get some sleep. I will watch over you, and keep the fire burning, and I hope that to-morrow we shall be able to resume our journey. Before you sleep, dear friend, we will offer up a prayer for God's direction and assistance."

"As you think fit," answered Alec, expressing no satisfaction at the proposal.

Donald knelt and prayed, and then read a portion of God's Word. Alec sat listening, but made no remark, though he pressed his friend's hand when he had finished, and then lying down closed his eyes.

As Donald sat by the side of his friend he observed that though his slumbers were troubled he appeared to sleep soundly. He had resolved to carry him till he could get help, though he felt that the task was almost beyond his strength; but he did not despair. He prayed for that aid he so much needed, and felt sure that it would be sent in the way God might judge best.

The faithful believer does not expect a miracle to be wrought in his favour, but he knows that the Most High, who allows not a sparrow to fall to the ground without knowing it, so orders and arranges all the movements of His creatures, that He accomplishes, by apparently ordinary means, whatever He desires to bring about. Thus when the believer prays he is sure that his prayer will be answered, though it may not be in the way he, in his finite judgment would desire. Resting securely on God's love and mercy, he is sure that all will be ordered aright.



CHAPTER NINE.

WHEN ENCAMPED, DONALD IS VISITED BY AN INDIAN, WHO ASSISTS IN CARRYING ALEC TO THE TOWNSHIP—INFLUENCED BY THE CONDUCT OF THE CHRISTIAN INDIANS AND THE EXHORTATIONS OF HIS FRIENDS, ALEC IS BROUGHT TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE TRUTH.—HIS BROTHER REQUIRES HIS PRESENCE IN ENGLAND, TO RECOVER HIS FATHER'S PROPERTY, AND HE SETS OFF.

Donald was still reading from his pocket Bible, but had begun to feel somewhat drowsy, when he was fully aroused by seeing a tall figure moving through the forest towards him. As the stranger approached, the light of the fire exhibited a person of a dark countenance, with black hair, in which were stuck a few tall feathers, while his coat and leggings, ornamented with fringe, were of untanned leather. Donald at once knew him to be one of the natives of the land. The Indian approached fearlessly, and sat down beside him.

"I see your fire from my camp," he said, in tolerable English. "I white man's friend. Where you go?"

Donald, who knew that the natives in that district were on friendly terms with the settlers, at once told him who he was, and the difficulty in which he was placed.

"I help you," said the Indian. "We not far from river. Canoe take up your friend to township."

The assistance offered was just what Donald had been praying for.

"God has sent you to my help, my friend," he said to the Indian, "and I gratefully accept your offer."

"You know God and His Son Jesus Christ?" asked the Indian.

"I do, my friend, praise His name that He has made Himself known to me."

"I know and love Him too," said the Indian. "He good Master; I wish all my people knew Him and served Him, then they not drink the fire-water, and vanish out of the land, as they are doing."

Donald grasped the Indian's hand. "I do, indeed, wish that not only your people, but mine also, were subjects of the Lord," he said. "Let us pray that we may have grace to make His name known among them."

The white man and the red knelt as brothers, side by side, and together offered up their prayers for the conversion of their countrymen.

"Please read God's Word to me," said the Indian. "I love to hear it."

Donald gladly did as he was requested, his companion occasionally asking him questions. It was nearly midnight before the Indian rose to return to his own camp, promising to come back in the morning with some of his people to convey Alec to the river.

Soon after daybreak, he appeared with a litter, which he had had constructed, and a supply of food, in case, as he said, his white brother might require it. Alec had been for some time awake. He did not appear surprised when the Indians arrived.

"I heard you reading to the stranger," he said, "but I was too weary to speak."

As soon as breakfast was over, Alec was placed on the litter, and the Indians bore him along lightly and easily through the forest. It was past noon before the bank of the stream was reached. Here they launched two of their canoes, which together were sufficient to convey the whole party. Alec was placed in one, under charge of the chief, and Donald took his seat in the other. At night they camped on shore, when Donald read the Bible to his redskin friends, Alec being apparently an attentive listener.

"It is strange," he afterwards remarked to Alec, "that that book should have such a power over the men of the wilderness as apparently to change their savage natures."

"God's Holy Spirit is the power applied to those who accept His offer made to them by means of the book," continued Donald. "You, my dear Alec, will experience the same change if you will but take God at His word and trust Him, although you, from having had these offers often made and rejected, may have to pass through many troubled waters, such as these children of the desert have not experienced. But remember His words, 'Seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you.' 'What encouragement does that promise afford sinners, conscious that they are such, and tossed about with doubts and fears.'"

Alec made no reply. Donald, however, felt sure that the conduct and conversation of his Indian friends had had a great effect on his mind.

On the evening of the second day, the party reached the township, when the Indians conveyed Alec to Donald's house. The sincerity of the chief was proved, when he refused to receive any reward for the service he had rendered.

"No, no, my friend," he answered. "I rejoice to help brother Christians, for I remember the Lord's words, 'I was hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.'"

Alec, who had been laid on Donald's bed, desired to bid farewell to the Indians before they took their departure, and to thank them for the service they had rendered him.

"Do not speak of it, friend," answered the Indian. "Jesus, our Master, went about doing good. I only try to be like Him, and I very, very far away from that."

"It is wonderful, very wonderful," murmured Alec, after the Indians had left him. "I do not think my philosophy could have changed them as their faith in the Bible appears to have done."

Notwithstanding this, it was long before Donald perceived the desired change in his friend's heart.

The surprise of David may be supposed, when, on his arrival from the office, he found a stranger in the house, and discovered who he was, and though he grieved to see him in so sad a condition, yet he was thankful that he had thus been placed under his and his brother's care. Like brothers, indeed, they watched over him, assisted by Mr Skinner, who, as they had to be constantly absent, proposed taking up his abode with them till Alec's recovery.

"I shall make a capital nurse," he said, "and may be able to minister to a mind diseased."

Donald had also obtained the assistance of a surgeon, who at first seemed very doubtful whether Alec would ever recover the use of his limb, and expressed himself somewhat carelessly to that effect in the hearing of his patient. Alec groaned.

"To be a miserable cripple and a friendless beggar for the rest of my life," he muttered.

"No, no, dear Alec, you will not be either friendless or a beggar," said David, who sat by his side. "While Donald and I live you will find means of employment, even if you lose the use of your leg; and I am sure you know enough of us to feel that we can only rejoice to have you beneath our roof."

For many days Alec continued ill and feverish, and seemed to pay but little attention to what Mr Skinner from time to time said to him, although his kind friend spoke most judiciously, and always sought the right season for speaking. He did not always, indeed, address him directly.

"It seems surprising to me," he observed, one day, "that anyone should fail to acknowledge that man is composed of two parts, the physical and spiritual, and that God, his maker, who has so amply provided for his physical wants, and formed this world so beautifully and so perfect, should have neglected supplying the wants of his spiritual part—by far the most important—with what it so greatly requires, guidance and direction; and above all things, what it so yearns after, a knowledge of Him who formed it. Now those who really study the book (which professes to be given by God) according to the way He in it points out,—namely, in a humble spirit,—with prayer for enlightenment—invariably find that want fully supplied; and making due allowance for the various constitutions of the human mind, they are entirely agreed on all cardinal points regarding the Bible, while its opponents, who profess to be guided by the light of reason alone, differ in every possible way, their theories being almost countless; while they agree only in denying the authority of a book, of the Divine nature of which they have no experimental knowledge, declining, in their pride, to follow the directions it gives them for obtaining that knowledge. Then, when we take a glance round the heathen world, past and present, we find men following courses, with habits and customs destructive to human happiness, and abhorrent to the conscience which God has given man when uncontaminated by them. Contrast the result which the theories of philosophers and the heathen systems produced, with that which the mild loving faith Christ taught, if universally adopted, would bring about in the world, and who would hesitate between the two? And then when, in addition, we remember that Christ ensures to His followers eternal happiness, greater even than the mind of man can comprehend, what madness is it in those who hesitate to accept His offers! True, there are mysteries which even the Bible does not explain, such as the existence of Satan; but it does explain why Satan has power over man, and why sin and misery and death came into the world. This was the reason that man was disobedient, that man refused to trust to his Maker and listened to Satan. Man, in the pride of youth, health, and strength, and mental powers, may look with contempt on the Gospel, but God, in His loving mercy brings down those He loves, by poverty, suffering, and loss of friends, and then they feel their weakness and the vanity of all human systems, and are led to turn to Him who alone can lift them up and give them comfort, and a promise of a better life. How plain and easy are the demands He makes; how full of mercy; how simple is the plan He has arranged."

Alec, as usual, had had been listening attentively to all Mr Skinner had said. He never attempted to argue with him. He had long lost all confidence in the correctness of the notions he had held. Tears filled his eyes. "I believe, help Thou my unbelief," he ejaculated, in a broken voice.

His health and strength had been rapidly improving. Through the assistance of his friends, when perfectly recovered, he obtained employment, and was soon able to lay by money, and to feel himself independent. Notwithstanding this, by his life and conversation, he showed that the good seed had taken root; the only companionship he sought was that of Donald and David, and Mr Skinner, and other true Christians whom he could meet with in the neighbourhood. He had followed his friends' example, and purchased a piece of land, which he had commenced cultivating, and on which he told them he hoped soon to put up a substantial log-house.

"You will not like to live a solitary life," said Donald. "You will want a companion. I did not get on half as well as I do now before David came out."

"Perhaps I may some day find one," answered Alec, smiling. "I shall live on in hopes that one of congenial tastes to my own may be sent me."

"Till you find him you must promise to remain on with us," said Donald. "We cannot part with you, and I suspect that we should be jealous of any one whom you might select."

A short time after this Alec received a letter from one of his long absent brothers, who had returned to England. He wrote saying that he had looked into their father's affairs, and found that there was yet some property which might be recovered, but that it would require his presence and that of the rest of the family, to settle the matter. A remittance, to enable him, without inconvenience, to pay his passage home, was enclosed in the letter. Donald and David were truly glad to hear of this.

"You must not be persuaded, Alec, however, to stay away," they exclaimed. "You must promise to come back as soon as your affairs are arranged. You are wanted in this country."

Mr Skinner, while he congratulated his young friend on the brightening of his worldly prospects, cautioned him affectionately against the temptations to which he might be exposed.

"I know that I am very weak," answered Alec, humbly. "But I go forth, not in my own strength but seeking the aid and direction of God's Holy Spirit."

"While that is sought, and it will never be denied, you will be strong, and I have no fear of the result," was the answer.

The Morrisons and Mr Skinner undertook to look after Alec's property during his absence, and he set off on his journey to England.



CHAPTER TEN.

A LETTER FROM MARGARET.—JANET'S ILLNESS.—ANXIETY ABOUT ALEC'S RETURN.—A DELIGHTFUL SURPRISE.—ARRIVAL OF ALEC AND MARGARET WITH JANET.—MARGARET HAS BECOME ALEC'S WIFE. CONDUCTED BY THE BROTHERS TO THEIR NEW HOUSE.—ARRIVAL OF MR. SKINNER'S SISTER, MRS. RAMSDEN AND HER DAUGHTERS, WHO, AS MIGHT POSSIBLY BE EXPECTED, BECOME THE WIVES OF DONALD AND DAVID JANET CONTINUING TO LIVE WITH MARGARET, PAYS FREQUENT VISITS TO HER OTHER BAIRNS, AND IS EVER WELCOMED BY THEM, AND THE NUMEROUS WEE BAIRNS WHO SPRING UP IN THEIR MIDST.—CONCLUSION.

In those days, when no magnificent ocean steamers, with rapid speed, crossed weekly the Atlantic, the settlers in Canada, whose friends had returned to the old country, had often to wait three or four months before they could hear of their safe arrival.

Some time after Alec had gone a letter was received from Margaret, written in a less happy strain than was usual to her. Janet had been suffering from rheumatism, and found it impossible to spin as much as she had been accustomed to do. The state of her health made her feel an unwonted anxiety about the future prospects of her beloved charge. "I know, however, that all will be well," wrote Margaret, "so I do my best to keep up her spirits, by reminding her of God's loving kindness, in which she has hitherto so firmly confided. Were it not, however, for the assistance you have given us, my dear brothers, I confess that we should have a great difficulty in supporting ourselves. I do all I can to repay our kind and loving friend for the years of tender care she has bestowed on us. What would have become of us all had it not been for her?"

Donald and David had a short time before this sent home a larger sum than usual, which they hoped would have been received soon after the letter was written, and they trusted that it would assist to restore Janet's spirits, and convince her that as long as they lived Margaret would not be left destitute.

Weeks and weeks passed by, and no acknowledgment of the sum was received, and no other letter came to hand.

As they hoped that Alec Galbraith would not be long absent, wishing to give him a pleasant surprise, they had gone on with the erection of his house, and completed it, declaring that as their reward they would sell their property, for which they had had several advantageous offers, and go and live with him till they should fix on another location further off in the wilderness, to bring under cultivation.

"He must have been at home several weeks, and had plenty of time to arrange his affairs with his brothers," observed David.

"I wonder he has not written to us. Perhaps the letter, or the vessel herself bringing it, may have been lost," observed Donald. "That has been the fate of several of Margaret's letters. Depend upon it we shall hear from him or our sister before long, and he is sure to pay her a visit before he comes back, that he may bring us news of her and Janet."

They were seated together one evening in their log-house, their meal just placed on the table. "I fancy I heard footsteps," said David. "Yes, some one hails."

It was Alec Galbraith's voice. Donald and David rushed out. There stood Margaret and Alec Galbraith, while dear old Janet followed with eager looks close behind them. Donald, seizing his sister's hands, drew her to him, while David grasped those of Alec, till his brother could relinquish Margaret to him, and then land Janet, rushing forward, threw her arms around both the brother's necks, and sobbed out, "My bairns, my bairns, though I feared the salt sea I would have gone over more than twice the distance to hold ye thus agen!"

The new arrivals were soon seated at the already spread board. As Margaret happened to place her hand on the table Donald observed a plain gold ring on her finger.

"What!" he exclaimed, turning quickly to Alec. "Is it really so?"

"I thought we should surprise you," he answered, laughing. "But I would not come away without her, and as she knew that you would mourn my absence, she at last consented to return with me as my wife, provided Janet would come also. It was a hard matter, however, I can assure you, to persuade her to venture across the ocean."

"Indeed, my dear Donald," said Margaret, when she and her brother were shortly afterwards together, and her husband was absent, "much as I found I loved him, and had loved him since I was a girl, I would not have consented to be his wife had I not been convinced that he had abandoned those infidel principles which had caused his poor mother so much grief, and had also become a faithful follower of the Lord. I was at first delighted to see him, and then my heart sank within me for fear that he was unchanged. He did not leave me long in doubt on the subject. I knew by his gentle and subdued manners, by the unmistakable expressions he used, and then by the deep sorrow that he expressed, that the opinions he once held had grieved his poor mother, that he no longer adhered to the vain philosophy in which he had formerly gloried. I soon discovered that he loved me, and then I had no hesitation in giving him my heart in return."

"You acted wisely and rightly, dear Margaret and David and I are truly glad to welcome him as a brother, whom we have long looked upon as the most intimate of our friends."

The next day, Alec and Margaret, accompanied by Janet, were conducted in due form by Donald and David to the house which they had but lately finished on Alec's property. The surprise was indeed a great and delightful one. As it did not take long to get in as much furniture as was required at that season of the year, Margaret and her husband, with her faithful nurse, in a few days took up their abode there.

Alec's worldly circumstances had greatly improved, for much more of his father's property had been recovered than he expected, so that his share was considerable, and with the experience he had gained, he was able to employ his capital in farming, with great advantage.

"What will you two poor bachelors do by yourselves," said Margaret. "Could you not manage to come and live with us in this house as you purposed doing had Alec returned alone?"

"We have work enough in drawing our plans, and other business of our office to employ nearly every hour of the day," answered Donald. "And besides, we are anxious to assist Mr Skinner, who wishes to enlarge his house as soon as possible, as he expects a widowed sister and her family to join him shortly, and he does not consider the accommodation he can now offer them, sufficient."

"Oh, I suppose he wishes to have a nursery built where the children may be out of hearing," said Margaret, laughing.

"He has not mentioned the ages of his nieces, or how many there are of them," said David, "but I should think, from a remark he made, that they cannot be little children."

The young men made no inquiry of their friend about the more juvenile portion of the family of his expected relatives. As he had himself now been some time absent from England, he might have been able to give them very little information. David, however, confessed to Margaret that he felt somewhat curious on the subject. This was increased when the new part of the house having been finished, Mr Skinner fitted up one chamber which he said was for his sister, and two other pretty little rooms for his elder nieces, and certainly the furniture, which he put in to them, was scarcely such as he would have chosen for young children.

Just at the time Mr Skinner was expecting the arrival of his sister, Mrs Ramsden and her family, Donald and David had to leave home to visit some distant township on business. Mr Skinner had, before this asked the assistance of Margaret and Janet in fitting up his house. Janet, with her usual kindness of heart, offered to remain for a day or two to receive the new comers, whom she understood had no servant with them.

"The poor lady may be tired, and the bairns will ha' na one to gie them their supper, and put them to bed, and it will be just like old times coming back, and be a muckle pleasure to me," she observed, to Margaret. Mr Skinner was very glad to accept her services, feeling sure that she would be of much assistance, although he might not have supposed that his nieces would require the attendance of a nurse.

Janet was to bring word to Margaret when Mrs Ramsden would be able to see her, and she proposed then walking over with Alec to visit her.

She had numberless occupations which kept her and Janet fully employed; for though her husband had engaged a sturdy Scotch girl to milk the cows, and perform some of the rougher work of the farm, the damsel herself required her constant superintendence. There were poultry of several varieties, as well as pigs, to be fed; the flower and kitchen garden to be cultivated, and numerous household duties to be attended to, Alec himself being constantly engaged in clearing fresh ground, and in the more laborious work about the farm.

Margaret had greatly missed Janet the days she had been absent, and with much satisfaction, therefore, she saw her with her knitting in hand— without which, even in Canada, she never moved abroad—approaching the house.

"Oh yes, they are come, my bairn," she said, to Margaret's inquiry. "Mistress Ramsden herself is a brave lady, and seldom have my eyes rested on twa mair bonny lassies than her daughters, na pride, na nonsense about the young leddies, Mistress Mary and Emily Ramsden, and just as gentle, and loving, and kind as lambs to the younger children. They thanked me for my help; but they put their hands to everything themselves, and would nae let me do half as much as I wished. I'll tell you what, Margaret, I have set my heart on having them for my twa bairns. They would make them bonny wives, indeed, but don't ye gang and tell your brothers, for there is that obstinacy in human nature that they might back, and kick, and run off into the woods rather than do what, if left alone, they would be eager after."

Margaret promised to be discreet, and allow her brothers to judge for themselves, without praising the Misses Ramsden, should her opinion of them, as she had little doubt it would agree with that formed by Janet. Next morning she and Alec paid their promised visit, and she was fully as much disposed as Janet to admire the Misses Ramsden and their mother. The more she saw of them the more pleased she was, not only with their appearance, but with their earnest piety, their simple unassuming manners, and their apparent energy and determination, and their evident readiness to submit to all the inconveniences to which settlers in a new country must, of necessity, be subjected.

A few days after this Donald and David returned, and called on Margaret on their way home. They naturally inquired whether Mrs Ramsden and her family had arrived. She wisely said but little about the young ladies, and Janet was equally discreet. They, however, managed to find their way that evening to Mr Skinner's.

They were always glad to pay their kind friend a visit; but from their sister's and Janet's discreet silence, they suspected that the change in the character of his establishment would be a drawback to the pleasure of their previous intercourse. Not, however, till a much later hour than usual on the evening in question did they discover that it was high time to take up their hats and wish Mr Skinner and his sister and her daughters good-bye.

As they walked homewards, Donald, after a long silence, burst out laughing, exclaiming, "Weel, I expected to see a number of bairns in pinafores, but eh! she's a braw lassie."

"She is the sweetest young creature I have ever had the happiness of meeting," said David.

"But I am talking of the elder sister," exclaimed Donald.

"And I speak of the younger," observed David. "But they are both very nice girls—there is no doubt as to that—no nonsense about them—so full of spirits and fun, and yet so lady-like and quite, and I heard Emily's voice, when joining in the prayer, it was so true and earnest."

"I was nearest Mary, and was struck by the genuine tone of her's," observed Donald.

"Do you know, David, that I had made up my mind to follow the example of Mr Skinner, and to live a bachelor for ten years to come at least, and then, perhaps, to go back to the old country to look out for a wife. But eh! that looking out for a wife must be unsatisfactory work at best. How can a man possibly discover the real character and disposition of a lady when the object he has in view is suspected, if not well known."

"We may be sure we shall be guided aright if we seek guidance in that as in all other matters," answered David. "But I cannot help hoping that neither you nor I need be compelled to make the expedition you suggest. I have sought guidance, and I am sure that in God's good time we shall be directed aright."

Day after day, when their work was over, they had some cogent reason for calling at their friend's house; and when Margaret next met them, Donald confessed that if he ever could venture to marry he should be thankful to make Mary Ramsden his wife, while David made the same acknowledgment with regard to her younger sister.

Happily, in a prosperous country like Canada, to steady and industrious men like the young Morrisons, the impediments were not insuperable, nor, indeed, did they take long to overcome.

Faithful Janet was overjoyed when she heard that the lassies she so much admired had promised to become the wives of her twa bairns, with a full approval of their mother and uncle. As they agreed that their old house might not always be sufficiently large to hold them both, they moved further off to the west, where they were enabled to purchase, by the sale of their already well cultivated farm, two good sized allotments of land, on each of which they reared a comfortable log-house, where, shortly afterwards, they and their brides took up their abode.

"My work is among my fellow-creatures," observed Mr Skinner, "or I should be much inclined, my dear nephews, to follow your example, and move nearer you."

He therefore remained at the now well advanced township, though before long, to their great satisfaction, the Galbraiths became their near neighbours, Alec having purchased a property a little beyond theirs.

The Morrisons gratefully remembered the kindness they had received from Mr McTavish and other friends in the old country. To many young men who came out with introductions from them they gave a hearty welcome, extending a helping hand to those who required assistance, while they rendered a still greater service to not a few whom they saw falling into evil ways, by perseveringly, though gently and lovingly, warning and exhorting them—not leaving them in spite of ingratitude and opposition, till they had been the means of bringing them back into the right path.

In the latter respect especially, Alec followed their example. He remembered into what a depth of sin he had sunk, and that it was through the love of Jesus, and by no merit of his own, he was drawn out of it. His sin he knew was washed away. Gratitude to that loving Saviour urged him to try and call those sheep who were wandering away along the thorny paths he had followed into the true fold, where they might rest secure under charge of the faithful Shepherd who never forsakes those who seek Him.

Janet, though continuing to live with Margaret, paid frequent visits to the other houses of the family, at which her coming was always hailed with delight by the numerous wee bairns, who, in the course of time, made their appearance among them, as she was also warmly welcomed by Donald and David, who, though they felt that to Mr Skinner they were, humanly speaking, indebted for the spiritual life they enjoyed, could never forget how devotedly she had watched over their infancy and youth, and that it was mainly to her training and instruction their present prosperity was owing.

THE END