FOR THEIR MAINTENANCE,
WHILE SHE PLACES THE TWO BOYS, DONALD AND DAVID, AT SCHOOL.--HER ANXIETY
ABOUT THE EDUCATION OF MARGARET.

In his Highland manse, far away among the hills, where he had dwelt as
pastor for many years over a wayward flock, Donald Morrison lay on a
sick-bed. The same fever which had carried off his dear wife a few
weeks before, had now stricken him down. He knew that he was dying. As
far as he himself was concerned he was willing to yield up his spirit to
his Maker; but what would become of his motherless children, his sweet
young Margaret, and his two boys, Donald and David, their principles
unformed, and ignorant of the evils of the world?

"Father in heaven protect them," he ejaculated. "Give me faith to know
that Thou wilt take care of them, teach them and guide them in their
course through life." But he felt that his mind was clouded, his spirit
was cast down, the disease was making rapid progress. It was hard to
think, hard even to pray, gloomy ideas, and doubts, and fears, such as
assail even true Christians, crowded on his mind. He forgot--it was but
for a time--the sincere faith which had animated him through life. The
victory was not to be with the Evil One.

Soon there came hope, and joy, and confidence. "All will be well with
the righteous, those who put on Christ's righteousness," he mentally
exclaimed, and peace came back to his soul.

As he gazed out through the window he could see, down away on the wild
hill side, his children at play, their young spirits too buoyant to be
long suppressed by the recollection of their late bereavement, and
unconscious that they were soon to be deprived of their remaining
parent. His eye for a moment rested on the familiar landscape, the blue
waters of the loch glittering in the sunshine, a bleak moorland
sprinkled here and there with white-fleeced sheep stretching away on one
side, and on the other a valley, down which flowed, with ceaseless
murmurings, a rapid stream, a steep hill covered with gorse and heather,
the summit crowned with a wood of dark pines rising beyond it. Just
above the manse could be seen the kirk, which, with a few cottages,
composed the village; while scattered far around were the huts in which
the larger part of the pastor's flock abode. As he gazed forth on the
scene he prayed--he knew it might be for the last time--that his
successor might be more honoured than he feared he had been in bringing
home those wan