Herald and news. [volume] (West Randolph, Vt.) 1878-1943, 1891-08-06

"a mantle for mel His mantle Tor
mel" Donald said, in grieving wonder.
HE had no mantle"
But the old Highland pastor enlight.
ened him as to his fathers meaning.
you've to take his place, my lal." he
said; 'sto be the man of the house, to
let your fathers mantle fall upon you
He was a good man, godly man, a man
who'll be sorely missed. Put on his
mantle, Donald lad, you can't do better
than that"
Donald listened while he wept, and
then when the old pastor had gone he
stole softly out of the little cottage on
the moor to think it out" alone. The
swallows were twittering, the larks
caroling away above him, seemingly
hidden lin the snowy, feecy clouds in
the bright blue sky. The peaceful wa
ters of the loch shone like silver wave
lets moved gently by the soft wind
The fragrant breath of the heather
famed his cheeks. He sat down under
a young larch, and while his hands
were absently plucking punches of wild
thyme, his eyes were watching the
suns bright rays over the Highlands.
Fathers MANTLE" he said. Il don't
want it. soant him" And his glance
over the Highlands was piercing one,
as If he would look into Heaven, which
abode seemed to him must be in that
| direction.
Do not think that Donald was a cow
ard, but he was human, and naturally
shrank from assuming the care of a
large family. He was only thirteen,
and there were six children younger
than himself
His mother was weary and worn; the
long sickness of the father added to her
many family cares. had proved too
much for her Her pale cheeks and
tired fearful eyes shone before Donald
as he sat thinking" under the larch.
For nearly an hour the battle kept up;
then, suddenly he sprang to his feet.
The victory was won. He had put on
the mantle. I'm not a lad" he ex-
claimed, I'm the man of the house."
and in few moments he was back in
the cottage on the moor.
On an old lounge, whose great square
calico-covered pillows he could remem-
Der as far back as his remembrance
reached, lay his mother. Her head was
bandaged, her eyes heavy. He knew
she was su ffering. He knelt down be-
side her and took her hard-worn hands
tenderly. "Mither," he whispered,
sits hard to have father gang ava,
but if he were here when trouble come
he'd say: Ills the Lords will Wadna
he mither?"
"Yes, lad, she answered. sobbing.
''Mither," very tenderly pressing her
hands to his rudy young check, ''since
he's gang ava ! want you to lean on
me-your own laddie, mither dear"
And although the bereaved woman
could not answer then because of her
tears, she leaned on her ''laddie" from
that moment. The following morning
she took down the big Bible which
Donald's father had read aloud regular
ly before his sickness, and looked to-
ward the son appealingly.
sYes. mither," he said in answer to
the look, 'rm ready" and read aloud
the selected passage-the sisters
watching him wonderingly. Then he
offered a prayer-a short and broken
one, but it answered the purpose, for it
pleased his Father in Heaven and COM
forted his Borrowing mother.
When prayers" were over, the eldest
daughter, a girl of eleven, asked. 'Are
you going to do just as father did
Donald?n
Just as near as l can" he answered,
and his mother, catching his look, grew
hopeful.
Days passed on. As soon as the little
cottage was arranged comfortably-for
it had been disorderly during the long
siclxness-Donald found plenty of re-
munerative work to do outside. The
owner of a pine plantation kept him
busy for two long months. Sundays
were the only days that he had any rest
all of the others were filed from
morning until night But he slept at
home, that was in the agreement, it
was necessary for the imam of the
house" to sleep near the dear ones over
whom he was watching. Morning and
evening there were chores to do for
"mither." Then, when there was no
more work for Donald on the pine
plantation, it was time for grouse shoot
ing He entered into this with great
earnestness. Accompanied by his two
dogs, Scotia and Torquay, he almost
few over the moor and up the hillside
his bag for grouse hanging over his
shoulders, his fowling-piece grasped
tightly in his hands. All, there is
covey of BIRDS A report is heard, and.
lol there go some grouse into Donald's
bag. All day long the sport continues.
Uphill and down again, racing over
the heather, climbing up some high
ridge, peering out from some steep
peak. He did not go home to dinner,
being too far away, but he ate a
lunch which he had tucked into the
pocket of his blouse. A little rest at
noon, and then at work again. At last
the sun is setting, and Donald with
bag so heavy that he can hardly drag it
along, is homeward bound. Scotia and
Torquay at his heels Over boulder
and peat-bogs, over the heather,
through the bog, by the side of messy
e,,r;noe he snaadr On rThara IL ho,na