he depths of
the forest there arose a strain of music, the hermit thrush, in his
woodland sanctuary, raising his hymn to the night. Calm and serene,
carrying an exquisite peace, it floated out over field and hill and
river, until the very heavens seemed flooded with its harmony.

"_O hear all! O hear all! O holy, holy!_"

That was what the voice seemed to say to John McIntyre as he stood in
the lush June grass, just on the borderland between the purple and the
amber, and held his breath to listen. God had sent more than one
prophet into the wilderness to prepare His way, he thought in reverent
awe. For this voice spoke to him of all his Maker's goodness. What
more could a man desire than he possessed, he asked, in a rush of
gratitude; to live out his life of healthful toil in God's free
sunshine, with the happy home nest, holding Mary and their little ones
safe under his eye; with a friend's strong arm to help when the day's
burden grew heavy; with the world a garden of beauty and light, and at
night the solemn voice of the hermit; calling him to prayer?

Once more the strain poured forth, pure, celestial:

"_O hear all! O hear all! O holy, holy!_"

John McIntyre turned and went up the hill, smiling, his face to the
light.

CHAPTER II

AN ADVENTUROUS EXPEDITION

Sing a song of loving!
Let the seasons go;
Hearts can make their gardens
Under sun or snow;
Fear no fading blossom,
Nor the dying day;
Sing a song of loving
That will last for aye!
--ELIZABETH ROBERTS MACDONALD.

The village of Elmbrook had the finest situation for seeing what its
neighbors were about of any place in the Province of Ontario. It stood
on the crest of a high ridge, from which the whole earth fell away in
beautiful undulations. From almost any house in the village one could
see for miles down the four roads that wound up to it, and there was
always a brisk competition in progress as to who should be the first to
spy an approaching traveler.

Mrs. William Winters, who was the smartest woman in the township of
Oro, made it her boast that many a time she had sighted a buggyload of
her Highland relatives coming down from the MacDonald settlement above
Glenoro, when there wasn't a bite to eat in the house, and she had
fried the liveliest rooster in the barnyard and slapped up a couple of
pies before they drove up to the gate.

For many years she easily maintained first rank a