t. For he felt as though he were home by the fireside, and she
was smoothing his curls and singing those words, as she so often did
when he was falling asleep.

"And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."

As he whispered the last line he reached the top of the hill and
suddenly emerged from the valley of shadows and fears into the light of
day. Just ahead lay a clearing, with the rose-coloured sunset flooding
its white expanse and glowing between the dark tree-stems. He ran
forward with joyful relief and leaped out into an open world of beauty,
all ablaze in the dazzling rays of the setting sun. Here was light and
safety--yes, and friends!

He had emerged upon the public highway, known in that part of the
country as the "Scotch Line," and there, coming swiftly down the
glittering hill, was a low, rough sleigh, drawn by a pair of bell-less
horses. The driver was an elderly man, tall, straight, and
fierce-looking, with a fine, noble head and a long, sweeping, grey
beard, which gave him a patriarchal appearance. By his side sat a
young man, almost his exact counterpart in face and figure, but lacking
the stately dignity of years. Behind, on the edge of the sleigh,
swinging their feet in the snow, sat two more youths, both showing in
face and figure unmistakable signs of close relationship to the elderly
man on the front seat.

As the little figure came bounding out from the forest the whole
quartette broke into a welcoming shout. With an answering whoop the
boy darted forward and pitched himself upon the sleigh.

"Horo, Scotty!" "Woohoo!" "How's our big college-student?"

He was caught up and flung from one to another like a bundle of hay,
until he landed, laughing and breathless, in the arms of the driver.
Big Malcolm MacDonald stood the boy up between his knees, his deep eyes
shining with pride.

"Hey, hey!" he cried. "And how's our big man that will be going to
school?"

The boy's dark eyes were blazing with excitement.

"Oh, Grandad, it would jist be fine! It's jist grand! An' me an' Big
Sandy's Archie and Peter Jimmie is all readin' in one place, an' the
master says I can read jist fine, whatever!"

"Didn't you get a lickin'?" demanded a voice from the rear of the
sleigh.

The bright face suddenly fell, one could never aspire to be a hero
until one had braved the master's tawse.

"No," was the reluctant admission. "The master would be jist fearsome
to the big lads, but he wo