ian city and
singeth nothing but the psalms.

The Moderator, as I have already said, abode with us over night, and we
almost begrudged the sleeping hours, for, if you will waste sleep upon a
Moderator, let it be when he is preaching and not when he is filling
your house with dignity and smoke. For the Moderator loved his pipe, and
so did I, and together we revelled in those clouds before which all
other clouds retreat. What a great leveller is that democrat, tobacco.
For while we smoked we were both moderators, and even an Assembly clerk
could not have told which was which. Twice, too, the Moderator filled
from my pouch, with no air of patronage, and I shall never forget it of
him. When he went to his bed, still redolent of Virginia, he asked me
for a little soda water, very little, he said emphatically. I brought it
to him, and passing by his door a moment later, I heard a low gurgling
sound like that of an infant brook, then silence, then an honest
smack--soon after there emerged a festive flavour, a healing aroma,
sweetly distilling. As I went back to our room, I said to my wife, "What
a fine spirit a Moderator can shed through a house," in which opinion
she agreed, though she knew not what I said. I was all but asleep when
she aroused me with--

"Tom, why is a Moderator called a Moderator?"

"Because he takes it moderately, dear," I answered, being only in the
twilight of intelligence.

"Takes what, Tom?" she asked.

"His honours, sweetheart--go to sleep."

But although we have had great guests like these, I do not know that I
was ever more glad with the thought of a sleeping stranger than with the
knowledge that this homeless lad was beneath our roof that night. For he
who homes the honest poor has borrowed the guests of God, and a mother's
wandering son is His peculiar care.

I knew that the great Executor of all praying mothers leaves them not
long indebted to any man; He Himself shall speak with their creditors in
the gate.

X

_My PIOUS PROFLIGATE_

My wandering but faithful pen, whose every child, though homely, is its
legitimate own, must now forsake Angus and his fortunes for a season. It
shall again return to him, _if it be spared_. For the good folk of St.
Cuthbert's have taught me to insert this phrase at every seasonable
opening--indeed, they deem it fitting for every season, and the very
first marriage in New Jedboro at which I officiated afforded a vivid
proof of this.

The youn