The Maryville times. (Maryville, Tenn.) 1884-1944, 1891-08-05


famed his cheeks. He sat down under
young larch, and while his handa
were absently plucking punches of wild
thyme, his eyes were watching the
suns bright rays over the Highlands.
Fathers MANTLE" he said. II don't
want it. soant him." And his glance
over the Highlands was a 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 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 q 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,
''it's hard to have father gang ava,
but if he were here when trouble come
he'd say: Ills the Lords will Wadna
he, mither?"
eyes, lad" she answered, sobbing.
"Mither," very tenderly pressing her
hands to his rudy young cheek, ''since
he's gang ava l 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 sladdie" from
that moment. The following morning
she took down the big Bible which
Donald's father had read aloud regular
" before his sickness. and looked to-
ward the son appealingly.
"Yes, mither," he said, in answer to
the look, "I'm 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?"
"Just as near as 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
sickness-Donald found plenty of re-
munerative work to do outside. The
owner Of pine plantation kept him
busy for two long months. Sundays
were the only days that he had any rest
all of the others were filled from
morning until night. But he slept at
home, that was in the agreement, II
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 fol-
'.mither." Then, when there was nc
more work for Donald on the pine
plantation, it was time for grouse shoot
ing. He entered into this with grea,
earnestness. Accompanied by his two
dogs, Scotia and Torquay. he almost
,, flew over the moor and up the hillside
his bag for grouse hanging over his
: : shoulders, his fowling-piece graspec
tightly in his hands. All, there is Q
covey of birds! A report is heard, and
10! there 60 some grouse into Donald's
, bag. All day long the sport continues
Uphill and down again, racing ovel
: the heather, climbing up some high
, ridge, peering out from some steel
peak. He did not go home to dinner
being too far away, but he ate {
! lunch which he had tucked into tn,
pocket of his blouse. A little rest a
noon, and then at work again. At las
!, the sun is setting, and Donald with ;
bag so heavy that he can hardly drag i
; along, is homeward bound, Scotia ant
Torquay at his heels. Over boulde
= and peat-bogs, over the heather
!, through the bog, by the side of moss,
/. springs, he speeds on. There is home
. ''mither" and the little classics" ar
waiting for him. "Laddie! My littl
laddie!" is the formers greeting to he
= sturdy son.
A very tired boy went to bed tina
night, but when morning came he wa
off again over moor and crag.
: Weeks have passed away-busy, profit
\ able weeks-and the aldus are all rus
set and gold now, but Donald's mothe
does not seem to care that the snmme
is past.
MY little laddie is such comfort,
d she says to the old Highland pastor
sid never have thought I'd be leanin
n on HIM SO heavily"
- HE accepted his fathers MANTLE"
the reply given heartily. "Bless tn
'e lad, Bless the lad!"-Ernest Gilmors
n in Ladies' Home Journal.
. n,-o ssOl, nn1rh TN, oo;nor ~ a.