ul with sound, and he stooped beneath it as a bather on the shore
stoops beneath the broad wave rushing up the land. But I will not linger
over this portion of his history. It is enough to say that he sought
the friendship of the organist, was admitted to the instrument; touched,
trembled, exulted; grew dissatisfied, fastidious, despairing;
gathered hope and tried again, and yet again; till at last, with
constantly-recurring fits of self-despite, he could not leave the grand
creature alone. It became a rival even to his violin. And once before
the end of March, when the organist was ill, and another was not to
be had, he ventured to occupy his place both at morning and evening
service.

Dr. Anderson kept George Moray in bed for a few days, after which
he went about for a while with his arm in a sling. But the season of
bearing material burdens was over for him now. Dr. Anderson had an
interview with the master of the grammar-school; a class was assigned to
Moray, and with a delight, resting chiefly on his social approximation
to Robert, which in one week elevated the whole character of his person
and countenance and bearing, George Moray bent himself to the task
of mental growth. Having good helpers at home, and his late-developed
energy turning itself entirely into the new channel, he got on
admirably. As there was no other room to be had in Mrs. Fyvie's house,
he continued for the rest of the session to sleep upon the rug, for he
would not hear of going to another house. The doctor had advised Robert
to drop the nickname as much as possible; but the first time he called
him Moray, Shargar threatened to cut his throat, and so between the two
the name remained.

I presume that by this time Doctor Anderson had made up his mind to
leave his money to Robert, but thought it better to say nothing about
it, and let the boy mature his independence. He had him often to his
house. Ericson frequently accompanied him; and as there was a good deal
of original similarity between the doctor and Ericson, the latter soon
felt his obligation no longer a burden. Shargar likewise, though
more occasionally, made one of the party, and soon began, in his new
circumstances, to develop the manners of a gentleman. I say develop
advisedly, for Shargar had a deep humanity in him, as abundantly
testified by his devotion to Robert, and humanity is the body of which
true manners is the skin and ordinary manifestation: true manners are
the polish w