that there was no evidence that a crime had been committed. I
was told your father did not die but was put aboard ship for the
Colonies. Believing that England, however much in fault as to
administration, was right in fighting to retain her government over
this country, I again entered the army. The day on which I had the
serious attack of heart trouble, and called for assistance and you
came, I saw that in your face which told me you must be near of kin to
David Cameron. I wonder that I never had noted the resemblance. If you
are like him, as I believe, you will not leave the world the poorer
for having lived in it, and at the end will not, as I, feel impelled
to recall these lines which that wretch Wharton wrote:

"'Be kind to my remains, and oh! defend,
Against your judgment, your departed friend.'

"RICHARD W. RALSTON."

"Dick Ralston! And but for him I would not have had David. The ways of
Providence are past finding out, Rodney."

"Nor would we have had a home but for him, mother."

"True, I forgot that. He had a kind heart and I remember what an
attractive gentleman I thought him, the day he came here. Think what
he might have been!"

The day on which the remains of Ralston were laid at rest, Rodney, on
returning home, found Mam in a state of agitation. She beckoned him
into the house and hoarsely whispered: "Dar's a dirty Injun in de
shed. I wouldn' 'low him ter set foot in dis yar house, I wouldn',
not ef he'd scalped me on de spot. He grunt, an' squat, an' 'lowed he
done wouldn' stir less he seed you."

"I'll bet I know him," saying which, Rodney ran out and, as he
suspected, found Conrad stolidly waiting for him.

"Where's little Louis, Conrad?"

"He vould stay mit der priest at Detroit. He say he a medicine man be
himself."

As Rodney wrote the letter Conrad was to take back through the
hundreds of miles of forest to the son of Richard Ralston, he thought
what a pity the boy's father died without seeing him. The son
should know, however, that he was loved and that his father had been a
brave man and that, if he but chose to return to England, he might
come into his inheritance. What would he choose, the life of the
missionary with all its dangers and sacrifices, or that of a country
gentleman,--rather what would his advisers choose for him?

Weeks lengthened into months and months into years, slowly so far as
concerned the progress of