ad fallen into disfavour, but the minister loved
coasting, someone discovered, and the young people turned the south
hill into such a splendid slide that the teams could scarcely get down
to the mill with their saw-logs. Then there were parties and
tea-meetings, and the weekly meetings of the many organisations in
connection with the church. The young pastor and his youthful friends
lived in a constant whirl.

This state of affairs brought down many a wrathful condemnation from
the ruling elder upon the heads of the young minister and all his
generation. Andrew Johnstone had well-nigh lost all hope of the young
man's ever accomplishing any good. But he and Duncan Polite still
clung to one straw. Every winter the Methodists held a series of
revival services, and this year the Presbyterian Church was to be asked
to join them. Such friendly relations had been established between the
two denominations since Mr. Egerton's arrival in Glenoro that this was
at last possible. Andrew and his friend looked to this period of
special services as an anchor in the great tide of worldliness which,
to them, seemed to be sweeping away their church.

But when the Methodist minister approached his brother clergyman with
the proposition, Mr. Egerton was compelled to give a reluctant refusal.
He was grieved at his inability to help Mr. Ansdell in any undertaking,
but he had already promised all his spare time and energy to a scheme
of the schoolmaster's. Early in the winter Mr. Watson had dropped into
the minister's study, his small, thin face full of eagerness.

"Look here, Mr. Egerton," he said, tilting his chair back against the
wall, "let's get up a patriotic society this winter; it'll keep things
lively."

The young clergyman was already beginning to realise that he had very
little time for reading or study and scarcely relished the thought of
additional engagements. "What should you do at the meetings, for
instance?" he asked.

"Oh, stir up a spirit of loyalty. I'm not just sure how; but you'd be
sure to find a way."

"Why not make it a literary society, and study one of the poets; don't
you think that would be better?"

Mr. Watson did not look satisfied. "I don't believe you're half
patriotic," he said banteringly, "but I'll make a bargain with you. I
know a literary society would be a good thing, and I'll go in for it
head and feet, if you'll promise to call it the Canadian Patriotic
Society, and let's talk about