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“But I daresay ye'll no quarrel wi' it.‘ They are awfu’ particular fowk aboot their eatin’ up in the Glen 0’ Tree]. -Kind fowk too. There was the guidwlfe o' the Trostnn. She fair fleeched on me to bide wi’ her. ‘I wad hae gien ye a bed, and welcome, Jock,’ says she, ‘but there is a horse in’t!’ Terrible kind fowk they are up at the head end 0’ you glen. How are ye managing wi’ the mutton hamâ€"-â€"no that ill, I houp? Aye, man, I wish I had teeth like you. I declare to peace ye could tak’ to stunebx‘eakin’ withoot a‘hfimmer. It's fair diu'ertin’ to watch 5' had a 'ihrfizi‘ét'XfildTflJfifilv, é'nfi YE; teeth in this hoose is a’ dune!“ she says. “Will ye hae a draw, honest man?" he said. “No, e're richt No on an empty stammac ! Stand still, Billy-OI I’ll tak' afl" your creels. Ye’re mair trouble than twa wives that willna’ gree. I'll no say but ye are mair solid comfort too, though that’s neither here nor there!" The tramp watched the pedlar as he busied himself with his creels. “I’se warrant, my lad, ye’ll no be (my the waur 0‘ a bit whang o’ mut« ton ham. It’s rare stuff, as I can tel‘l .ye for this is nae braxy. but a graund an d yow (ewe). A rale snow-breaker, abune fifty year auld, they say she was. I gat it up at the Glenhead frae Mistress Mac Millan, and says she, ‘Jock, that’ll haud your teeth gaun tell ye win hameâ€"that is, if ye- hae gpjd geeth and they last oot. We hae Heather Jock was in good humor. He had no wife waiting for him at home. Billy-O would be the better of a restâ€"he himself of a pipe. Here was company ready to his hand under a commodioua tree. So Heather Jock, a universally adaptivu man, sat down beside the tgamp. "There's waysâ€"aye, there’s ways. Whiles fowk has leeved Ian eneuch. Whiles it’s better that they sEould slip “73’! But that’s no what ye wad caa deein’! Na! na! That's just what they can in Carsphairn ‘a kind providence’l" CHAPTER XXIX.â€"(Cont'd.) Heather Jock was on his way home from the uplands of Carsphgim, whiâ€" that he had gone to peddle his besoms. Already he could smell the good smell of his native air, and as he was wont to say, pointing proudly to his donkey¢ as one might put forward a favorite child, “As soon as eVer Billy-Q gets his "nose by Snufi‘y int and the wind 0' Whinnyliggate b aws roond the hip o’ the Bennan, he’s a different beast. It’s raund air that o’ the muirlands. Fowi canna dee u there. There's naebod has died airly, up _amang' thae arsphairn Hil‘ls, within the memory 0’ man.” [with provender and local information 'couched in the raciest form 0’ Scots, only spoken by the folk of the western up‘iands, where it is fill] free from the defilements of Glasgow Irish, and .shines with a lustre undimmed by secondary education. The tramp put a question. “Wha lveeves up there, say '1" :cried Heather Jock’ “and what like fowk are they? Weel, I'll tell ye. Ye ,maun be a sore stranger no to ken, (though. John Mac Walter leeves there, a decent man, and the .name 0’ 2the bit farm is Loch Spellanderie. IJohn wad gie ye a bod and your breakfastrâ€"that is, gin he wasna lonr‘rinh Han“ uri’ n “din D"; ;. L_1'1 Heather Jock would shake hié headi $889135 then nod a little knowing nod. "'wad- um..- _-.- :L,‘_-v~ m-..” “And how” someone would put in, “how is it t at whiles we will see a funeral comin' doon frae that gate?” Always Buy The little leaves ancfi tips from high mountain tea garéens, that are used in SALADA are much finer in flavor than any Gunpowder or Japan. Try it. ather 811 a. acklfin wgrpo’éte} w en you go home to- nlgh . Give the ycnngaleu this whdesmnelag lasting sued - to plasma km“. )ck plied the tramp G BY 8. R. CROCKETT. cuithe bit farm' is Loch Spel‘landerie. I{F'John wad gie ye a bed and your e breakfastâ€"that is, gin he wasna hadden doon wi’ a wife. But to tell [nv ye the truth, John, honest man, is o’ 9fi'nae mair accooont up at Loch Spel- - landerie than you or meâ€"â€"or asa yin fidlmicht say, puir Billy-OI “Weel, guid-day till yeâ€"What did ye say your name was? Smith? Dod, 51 yince kenned a man 0' the name 0’ Smith. Maybe he was some friend of yours. It’s no a common name here away’â€"â€"Smit-h. They’s a’ Mac Millans land Mac Quhirrs an’ Mac Landsbor- 1oughs. Aye, man, and ye're a Smith. ,Weel, a heap o’ decent fowk hae had ‘queer ootlandish names in their day. And I daresay ye’ll no he a penny the want 0’ yours!” And so with this farewell, uttered in all sincerity, Heather Jock took his way down the strath of Kells, and soon Billy-O was sniffing the fine Whinny- liggate air, and beginning to think how good it would be to get off creels and saddles and leathern bel-lybands and indulge in a long scratchy satisâ€" factory roll among the heather. The tramp sat awhile at the foot of the little loaning that wound its way from the main road up to the farm of Loch Spellanderie. He was think- ing whether he should accept. the ad- vice Heather Jock hadegiven him, or remain in a position of greater free- dom, when he heard heavy footste coming down the avenue. He 0011 d not see the wearer of these weighty boots, but presently the black-pitched gate was opened, and a tall, dark- browed, moscullne~looking woman came out with the swing of a gren-l‘ adier. She caught sight of the, turmp’s grey coat and instantly stop» “Ye hae seen trouble in your day,” ,he said at length; “were ye seekin’ wark? I think I can put you in the way 0’ some. 'D’ye see yon white [hoose on the hillside yonder? That’s Rogerson’s o’ Cairnharrow. They are {wantin’ 2m orra man, for the guidman has a sair hand, and fowk are ill to get up here. I think ye might hae a chance, though ye dinn‘a look verra strongâ€"and mair like your bed than takin’ on WP farm wark." “I h? been illâ€"very ill,” acknowl- gedged e tramp, “but I am better sum, as He mew upon ms hands and slapped them against his aides, was, “Michty, it’ll be cauld at the turnip pits this mornin’!” It had been snowin in the night since Kit lay down, an the snow had sifted in through the open tiles of the farmhouse of Loch Spelilanderie. That was nothing. It often did that, but sometimes it rained, and that was worse. Yet Kit Kennedy did not much mind even that. He had a cun- ning arrangement in old umbrellas and cornâ€"Isackls that. could beat the I “Ye needna think on’t, my man!" said Heather Jock. "They keep nae xmam at Loch Spellandm‘io. A bit boy (Guid peety hxm!) and a slip o’ a .lassie indoors to provide Mistress Ma ‘Walter wi’ emiloyment for her hands and tongue. T at’s a’ the service that {they hae ony use for up at Loch Spel- .landerie.” “Pegs, I was thinkin’ that. by the haun ye hae made 0’ the mutton ham. It’s fair astonishin’! Honest Geordie Breerie himsel’ couldna bae beat ye! “1 huge been illâ€" edged e tramp, ‘ now.” Heather Jock was eyeing the tramp carefxflly. V “Would they be kind, think you, to someone in service there?” asked the tramp. “O, she's a tairg‘er, Mistress Mac Walter. She wadna gie ye ony mut- ton ham though ye micht hae a chance to get tile shank bone on the side 0’ you; head.” Get a man he was dIe, w} 1 (Eu? your day,” ye seekin’ you in the ygn mv‘vhitp H.869 Kit had on his trousers by this time. His waistcoat followed. But before he put on his coat he knelt down to say his prayer. He had promised his mother to say it then. If he put on his coat he was apt to forget it, in his haste to get out of doors where at least the beasts were friendly. So be- tween his waistcoat and his coat he prayed. The angels were up at the time and (they heard, and went and told One who hears prayer. They said that in a garret at a hill farm a boy was pra ing with his knees in snow- drift, 3 f' without father or mother near to he p or listen to him. “Ye lazy guid-forâ€"naething! Gin ye are no doon the stairs in three meen- its, no a drap o’ porridge or a sup 0’ milk shall ye get this dayl” So Kit got on his feet, and made a iqueer little shuffling noise on the floor [with them, to induce his mistress to ithink that he was bestirring himself. ,‘So that is the way he had to finish much mind even that. He had a cun~ nin‘g arrangement in old umbrellas and corn-sacks that could beat the rain any day. Show, in'his own words, he did not give a "buckie" for. Then there was a stirring on the floor, a creakimr of the ancient joists. It was Kit putting on his clothe!“ He always knew where each article lay «dark or shine it made no matter to him. He had not an embarrassment of apparel. He had a suit for wear- “Be gettin’ doon the stair, my man, and look Slippy,” cried Mistress Mac Walt/er, as a parting shot. “and see carefully to the kye. It’ll be as weel for ye." ingâ€"and his “other clothes.” These latter were, however, now too small for him, and so he could not go to the kirk at Whinnyligg‘ato. But his misâ€" tress had Laid them aside for her son Tammas, a growing lad. She was a thoughtful, provident woman. Kit took the corner of the scanty coverlet, and, with a well-accustomed armâ€"sweep, sent the whole swirl of snow over the end of his bed, getting across the side at the same time him- self. He did not complain. All he said, as he blew upon his hands and slapped them against his sides, was, “Michty, it’ll be cauld at the turnip pits this mornin’!” Yet all hehad said was “Ouch!”â€" in the circumstances, a somewhat na- tural remark. The moon gettl'ng old, and yawning in the middle as if tired of bein‘ out so late, set a crumbly horn pas the edge of his little skyli ht. Her strag~ ‘gling pallid rays fel on _something white on Kit’s bed. He put out his hand, and it went into a cold wreath of snow up to the wrist. “Ouch!” said Kit Kennedy. “I’m comin' to ye,’ repeated his mistress, “ye lazy, pampered, guid- for-naething! Dinna thmk I canna hear ye grumblln’ and speakin' lll words against your batters!” I “Get up this instant, ye scoondrel!” Icame again the sharp voice. It was speaking from under three ply of Xankets in the ceiled room beneath. That is why it seemed a trifle more muffled than usual. It even sounded kindly, but Kit Kennedy was not‘de- ceived. He knew? better than that. It was a reyish, glimmering twi- light when i: Kenned awoke. It seemed such a short tme since he went to bed that he thou ht that sureâ€" ly his mistress had ca?! d him the night before. Kit was no surprised. She was capable of anything in the way of extracting work out. of him. "I'IL‘ m-..“ ANAL”. , , in this» countryside again, my manâ€"- you that hasna a ceevil word in your head an' a stolen mutton ham in your ,handâ€"gaun aboot the land burnin’ Iricks wi' your matches and abusing decent women wi' your black iooks, vermin that ye are!” And the mistress of Loch Spa-Han- derie took her way with the consciousâ€" ness of having done a worthy and eminently Christian action in thus ridding the bounds of so disreputable and even dangerous; an c‘ement as the tramp in grey. “Gin ye dinna be stit‘rifizwi’lvlugg up to ye wi’ a stick!” cried Mistress Mac Walter. A stormy voice bmhe the morning ‘silence of the farmhouse of Loch Spel- ianderie some months thereafter. “Kit Kennedy, ye me a lazy ne’er- do-weei, lyin’ snorin’ there in your bed on the back 0’ five o'clock. Think shame o’ yourse ’." And Kit did. He was informed on an average ten times a da that he was lazy, a skulker, 11 bur en on the world, and especially on the household of‘his mothers sister-in-iaw. Mistress Mac Walter of Loch Speiianderie. So, be- ing an easy-minded boy, and moder- ately cheerfulnhe accepted the fact, ‘ andnshaped his life accordingly. ‘ll CHAPTER XXX THE NE'Enmo-wm URSES w York. For lurt DO-‘VELL Hospital m o! Oysters. like olivm, are an acquired taste, and a taste that some persons never acquire. There are many, says Mr. E. E. Whiting, who sympathize with the oft-quoted woman who said: "I’m glad I don’t like oysters, because if I liked {em I'd eat 'em. and I hate ‘em." There are many also who will feel akin in spirit with the little girl who was making her first appearance at a home dinner at which there were grown-up gusts. The first course was oysters on the half shell. Her mother observed ap- provingly the placldity and exemplary demeanor of her daughter. and thought to remove some of the solemuit'.‘ im'l Then his mistress went to sleep. She knew how Kit Kennedy did his work, and that there would be no cause to complain. But she meant to complain all the same. Was he not a lazy, deâ€" ceitful hound, an encumbrance, and an interloper among her bairns? (To be continued.) At the door one of the dogs stopped sniffed the keen, frosty air, turner! quietly and went back to the hearth- stone. That was Tweed. But Tyke was already out rolling in the snow when KiLKenhedy shut the door. Kit Kennedy made for the front door, direct from the foot of the lad- der. Mrs. Mac Walter raised herself on one elbow in bed to assure herself that he did not go into the kitchen after all. She heard the click of the bolt shot back, and the stir of the dogs as Tweed and Tyke rose from the lfireside to follow him. There was still a little red ash gleaming between the‘ bars, and Kit would dearly have liked‘ to o in and thaw out his tees on the sti‘ warm hearthstone. But he knew that his taskâ€"mistress was listenin: . He was twelve now, and big for hIS age, so he wast-ed no pity on himself, but opened the door and went out. Self~pity is bad at any time. It is fatal at twelve. | \ But Kit was notahungry, which, in the circumstances, was as well. Mis- tress Mac Walter had can ht him red- handed on one occasion. fie was tak- ing a bit of hard oatcake out of the basket of “farles” which swung from the black, smoked beam in the corner. Kit had cause to remember the occaâ€" sion. Ever since she had cast it up to him. She was a master hand at “casting up,” as her husband knew. But Kit was used to it, and he did not care. A thick stick was all he cared for, and that only for three minutes; but he minded when Mistress Mae Walter_abused his mother. p The angels saw and smiled. But they took it up and up, just the same {as if Kit Kennedy had been praying in church with the best. All save one, who dropped above the garret to drop something that might have been a pearl and might have been a tear. Then he also went withi the Inner Court, and told that wh ch he had seen. But to Kit’s mind there was nothing to grumble about. He was pleased if any one was. His clogs did not let in the snow. His coat Was ten 11 but warm. If any one was well 0 , and knew it, it was ‘Kit Kennedy: “Keep awa’ fiéé thg kitchen, ye thievin boon! There's nocht there for yeâ€"takin’ the bairns’ meat afore thg‘y'xfejp I” So hé came doiQnVsâ€"tzhgrli'f stairs the could be called that were but the bro en rounds of a stable ladder. His mistress heard him. Elsie and the Oyster Cord Wood Saw User Rinse dissolves complétely makes rich soapy solution 17 1 soaks dirt out Bricks by grind mixing t "Well," said Bill, after due reflec- tion, “this fifth marriage ain't going to seem so natural. «Parson Beggs is ofl'on a trip, and he’s never failed to tie the knot for me. I said to Mary that I didn't think it would feel like a wedding without Parson Beggs; but she said it was her turn to choose, and that she meant to start off with that young ministei‘ that has just come to town, and that if he did well she'd stick to him. She didn't explain what she meant, but it sounded ominous to me." For First Aldâ€"Mlnard‘s Llnlment‘ Jones had lost his fourth wife, but it was not long before it was under- stood that he had picked out his fifth, who WAS some thirty years Bill’s junior. One day a friend met him and said: “Well, Bill, I suppose getting man ried comes natural to you by this time, doesn't itt?" ' lrestraint of the occasion by letting ‘the child into the joys of the dinner. So I she said: “Would Elsie like a nice oyster?” Elsie looked doubtful, but dutifully opened her timid mouth, and mother lpopped an oyster into it. Elsie closed ’. her lips, and the mother turned her at- tention to her guests and her oysters. ‘ She got to the last oyster on her plate ‘ and then remembered her child. whose “ silence and sustained good manners icontinued to make a most delightful impression. So she turned to the child and asked: “Would Elsie like another inice oyster?" ~Sympathy from the community It you Waste no pity on yourself. â€" Influence if you will confine your statements to the facts. ~“Drag” with the boss if you boost more for the business. â€"â€"Help in bad times if you have been dependable in good times. â€"Frlends if you are wtlling to take time to make them. You Can Have Moreâ€"Leisure It you do your work well for the first time. â€"Freedom If you break the chains of your own enslavlng habits. A look of anguish came into the face of the patient little girl. She gently and cautiously parted her lips just far enough to reply: "I don't ’ant ’ls ‘unl" Mlnard’s Llniment ‘for Backacho. to Your Summer Home savc Take REAL Mustayd or two tins of KEEN’S MUSTARD in the sup- plies you take to your Summer Cottage or Camp. Only real Mustgrd -â€"-freshly Be sure to include one .red â€"-can give you roury zest and tang in d that you apprecia‘ 1:11. And only real mu: freshly mixed with :2: â€"â€" furnishes real 3 xed Sentence Sermons. Bricks inf Britain. re produced in Great Britain 1g clinkers and ashes and :m with lime and water. Ominous. that your te so ad to