The Secret of Sinclair's Farm

Front matter

[OICTIE] SHILLING.] THE SECRET OF S^olair's Farm. 3Y HARRY BLYTH. GLASGOW: PUBLISHED BY THE NORTH BRITISH PUBLISHING COMPANY, 52 SAUCHIEHALL STREET. lco ok. at tl?is / b Look at tb&f / / • -ewc. ___•■. T_ra:€>iwc-C»sc»»_r's §mz%tmn Com EFFECTUALLY REMOVES /WcY oa" Soft Corns, Bunions and Warts, . and reduces Enlarged and Inflamed TOE JOINTS. 25TO X?-A.TLTSt. I X* ES 1* .A. NT EELIEr. Bottles. 1/1 A eaoL Post free for 14 Stamps. Thompson's TOOTHACHE SPECIFIC. Cmes instantly Toothachf. or Neuralgia in the~G^ms. In Phials, 1/11: post free, 14 stamps. , ,' • ANTI-CATARRH ESSENCE, the New Remedy for Colds, H Influenza, Hay FEVE'p^SbiQi'A. Bronchitis, Coughs, aud General Derangement of Mucrfw-BujfaocaT^-P-hials, 1/-1A, 1/9. and 2/9 ; post, 1 stamp extra. I "^T MY 8~ I „ . " PODOPHYLlUm* ESSENCE.

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Preface

. " The Secret of Sinclair's Farm," like all the other stories from the same hand, was written and produced from week to week. In appealing to another and a wider public, the author is not entirely free from apprehension, lest the vices of the serial method should prove too glaring for the regular reader of books. The popularity of the produc tionSn its original form, has, however, tempted the experiment, ai7d he awaits the result with some eagerness. %* Many of the Stories told by Hah tlie ploughman, are common in Kk part of Ayrshire, and are not, put forward a* the iitreutioua ot the Author. A D VERTISEMEXTS. ROBERT BROWN, DISTILULEIR, AND SCOTCH WHISKY MERCHANT, 17 Hope Street, GLASGOW. Specially Selected I Tery Old a m m im y y w&T m. X <§* M fo%W$^XX ifHXiEL SAME AS SUPPLIED TO His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales.

HENRY THOMSON'S & CO.'S OLD IRISH WHISKY. GUARANTEED FIVE YEARS OLD SAME AS SUPPLIED TO His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales y His Royal Highness the Duke of Gonnaugiit, AND Both Houses of Parliament. Sole Agent for Scotland : ROBERT BRO ~%KT HB", 17 Hope Street, GLASGOW. COIsrTEITTS The Hiring Fair PA°r, Walter Weir ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 9 Like a Thief in the Night 12 The Widow 15 The Road to Ruin 19 Disgrace ... ... ... ... ... ... 23 A Strange Meeting ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 20 Disgorging \ ... ... 38 Bernie Hay ... ... 33 The Meeting 3(5 Ralph Weir again displays his lack of Resolution 38 Drear December ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 42 The Millionaire ... ... 4.0 Bernie Hay at Greenfield ... .-. 50 The Quarrel T 53 A Proposal ... ... ... - 56 Mr Decker arrives in Glasgow ... ... ... 59 A Change at the Farm ... ... ... ... ... 64 John Muir's First Foot 67 Mr Decker hears News .. . ... ... ... 71 Mr Decker pursues his Enquiries ... ... ... 74 In Paris ... ... .. ... ... ... ... ... ... ..;. 77 Place Maubert 80 A sturdy Invalid and some Love-making ... ... ... ...... 86 How a Crank was developed ... ... ... ... ... 92 The Thought Reader 95 Dr Arnold's interesting Patient 97 Ralph's Mission ... ... . .'. 100 In Bad Hands 104 The Apparition 108 The End of the Paris Business 112 Ralph sees a Future before him ... ... ... ... ... ... 116 Summer Days ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 121 Mr Decker again comes to London ... 124 Bad News 126 Too Late 131 A Revelation .. . ... ... ... 134 Mr Decker is again disappointed ... ... 138 A Bitter Recognition ... 143 Who did it? 147 I am the Man 152 Relentless Fate ... 158 At Last AD VERTISEMEXTS.

WATSON & MIDDLETON WHOLESALE WHISKY, WINE, AND TEA MERCHANTS, 19 & 21 OSWALD ST., G- L .A. S Gh O "W.. 6'oZe Proprietors of the famed "BAI.LOCH BÆ TT X. 13 " OLD SCOTCH WHISKY. Extract from "THE CHI EL." " But it was not merely to speak of their premises that I have introduced Messrs Watson & Middleton to you. It is rather because the firm is likely to become very generally known in connection with what must interest all Scotsmen, the introduction of a new blend of whisky — a whisky which I think will become popular from Land's End to John o' Groat's. The name that has been chosen for it is a capital one, and likely to appeal to Scotsmen all over the world. It is to be called "The Ballochmyle ; " and if a glass of Ballochmyle becomes as popular as the lass of the same lovely spot, we shall have singers at convivial meetings slightly altering the words of Burns : Thro* weary winter's wind and rain, With joy, with rapture, I would toil ; And niyhtly to my bosom strain A bonnie glass o' Ballochmyle.

Thk spirit itself is of a rich amber colour, and it has all the attributes of a first quality whisky. Mellow in taste, grateful in aroma, with an unexceptional bead, and possessing age. There are as many opinions about good whiskies as there are about good varieties of cheese, but I fancy most people will like " Ballochmyle." At any rate, all lovers of whisky should give it a trial." SAMPLES and QUOTATIONS to the TRADE only. SENT ON APPLICATION. my JricuS, JOHN YOUNG, BETTER KNOWN TO LOVERS OF SCOTCH HUMOUR A3 " IROBIIN" BOSS," These Pages are, with all Good Wishes, INSCRIBED. HARRY BLYTH. AD VERTISEMEXTS. THE WATERBURY WATCH. 10/6 10/6 DURABLE. KEYLESS. ACCURATE. RELIABLE Repairs when necessary never exceed 2/6. Runs 28 Hours with One Windim GUARANTEED FOR TWO YEARS. PRESS NOTICES Newcastle Leader: — "We have tried it alongside a twenty-five pounder, and the one kept as near St. Nicholas as the other.

We know no higher praise than this." Tyneside Echo:— "We have tried the Waterbury, and it has come out of the trial with great credit." Pictorial "World:—" Our own experience is that the watch is perfectly reliable ; and in a twelvemonth the variation has been only about five minutes." The "Watchmaker, London :— " The Waterbury is guaranted to give a maximum of results in timekeeping' at a minimum of cost." Manchester Examiner :— " The Water bu y is a splendid timekeeper." Manchester Courier : — " Experience enables us to say that they are admirable time keepers." Birmingham Post :— " Keeps accurate time, and is a good-looking and handy watch." Glasgow Herald :— "A good timekeeper." Glasgow Citizen :— "A good timekeeper." Glasgow Evening News:— "I have touted the watch thoroughly, and have nothing bat good to say of it."

The Sheffield Telegraph :—" Of the timekeepers in vogue, none is more popular than the Watrbury Watch. Never has a better article been produced for the money." Freeman's Journal :— " Serviceable to all. Altogether a capital article." Ne-^-^astle Chronicle:— "A real time keepei." WATERBURY u. ELECTRICITY. Professor JAMIESON, A. M. Inst., C.K., F.R.S.E., Principal op the College op Sciesce and Arts, Glasgow, writes: — "Five weeks ago I got from you a Waterbury Watch, and havin*' been previously annoyed by my lever watch stoppingand keepingbad time when I went near dynamo machines, I inserted the Waterbury Watch between the magnetic poles of a ten horse power dynamo. Of course the watch instantly stopped, but on being started again I regulated it only twice within two days, and have found that for one whole month it dTd not vary two minutes from correct Greenwich time.

I now prefer it to my former aud much more expensive watch, and consider it an excellent timekeeper for workmen and others connected with electrical lightning-." Prof. THOMAS A. EDISON, ran Famous Electrician, writes:— "I have used the Waterbury Watch for some time, and find it is the only one which will keep reasonablv perfect time when used around powerful dynamo machines." Electrical Review:— "The experiences related by Pi of. Jamieson are borne out bv our own, now extending over a period of nearly a year." On Sale, or may b-3 ordered through any of Mos s. Menzies' Bookstalls throughout Scotland Glasgow Depots — 259 Argyle Street, and 39 Trongate. \ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.} THE SECRET OF SINCLAIR'S FARM BY HARRY BLYTH. Author of K ** When the Clock Stopped, " "Magic Morsels," ' The Romance of Love and Marriage, " "Eat, Drink, and be Merry," etc.

OZSTIE SHILLIISTG-. GLASGOW'-. NORTH BRITISH PUBLISHING COMPANY, 52 SauchiehaIl Street, Glasgow. PRINTED BY STEWART & CO., :'.] SAUCHIEHALL STREET. AD YER TISEMEXTS. -_m ■ CO CO Ui-I 00 Chi 0 §2. w o 3 FURNITURE Brussels Carpets, Wilton Carpets, Dining-Rooma* •_■ Drawing-Roomia, Bed-Rooms, Tapestry Carpets, Scotch Carpets, Rugs, Floor Cloths, Offices, Curtains, Window Poles, &c. &c. Libraries, &c. &c. At exceptionally Cheap Prices this Season- In Great Variety, at exceedingly Moderate Prices. Houses can be Furnished from £15 to £1000 from Stock in the Warehouse, or from their Workshops' Stores, but Special Designs will be prepared and manufactured when desired. WHOLESALE and EETAIL CABINETMAKEES and UPHOLSTEEEES AND CAEPET, FLOOE CLOTH, CUETAIN, and BEDDING: WAREHOUSEMEN. THE SECRET OF SINCLAIR'S FARM; OR, AMONG THE RIGS 0' BARLEY 0 ! •>—*•

Chapter I. The Hiring

F A I K Standing on high ground, encircled by a single row of thin lofty trees, looking over a broad expanse of fertile country towards the restless sea, with, on clear days, a fine view of Ailsa Craig, and a hint of the Antrim Coast, there was nothing in the appearance of "Weirdlands," — or, as it was more generally called, " Sinclair's Farm " — to prejudice a stranger against it. It is true its land was not of the richest. The house was low-pitched, rambling, and in parts dilapidated. A strange stillness hung over the farmyard ; the deep pool of dark water which lurked sullenly in the marshy field beyond the byres, might, to fanciful people, seem heavy with mystery. But, in spite of the thinness of the soil, good crops of oats and hay and green stuffs could be got for the working ; the low-browed appearance of the dwelling externally was made up for by the comfort within ; and the cattle found the dull-looking water cool and refreshing when the sun beat fiercely on the earth.

As far as steadings of the class went, it was as free from reproach as any of them, and yet "Sinclair's Farm" had an ill name for which not even that important individual, the oldest inhabitant, could altogether account. There was some loose talk that in the good old smuggling days the owner of it amassed a considerable fortune by defrauding His Gracious Majesty the King of a portion of his revenue. This, however, was an offence which Ayrshire folks had always regarded with a lenient, if not an encouraging eye, and was not in itself sufficient to give any building an evil reputation, but rather to increase its importance and value. No dreadful crime had been committed there ; it had never been involved in any criminal or legal proceedings. It was impossible to bring any definite charge against it, yet the country people shook their heads when it was mentioned, and lassocks from the village, which lay in a drowsy valley about a mile away, dreaded to pass it in the mirk.

Perhaps the fact that the tenants of this land had invariably been unfortunate or eccentric people may account for the general suspicion with which it was regarded. From "Wullie" Sinclair, who had the farm in 1795, and whose name still clung to it, down to John Mure, who was in possession at the time this story opens, the masters of Weirdlands had afforded the country side food for gossip. " Wullie " himself, a broad-shouldered, deep-chested fellow, standing six feet two in his socks, and as powerful as he was tall, was at once the pride and terror of the country. He indulged in the maddest tricks and the wildest extravagances. But the farm prospered under his management, till one fine day he went to Glasgow on business and never returned, leaving a wife with a young family to the charity of his friends.

The MacEvoys succeeded him, and in one short month the small-pox carried them all away except the father, whose reason succumbed under his stupendous affliction. He was followed by the Wilsons, who were driven out of the district by popular indignation, which was excited by their open infidelity. James Paterscn came next, and it was generally believed that he held tiie secret or Sinclair's farm; 6 communion with the Prince of Darkness. On his death Robert Thompson took the farm, and he fell down dead on the night of his marriage. Then for some time it remained empty, until John Mure appeared on the scene, coming no one rightly knew from where. He secured it at a lower rent than had ever before been paid for it. .. He was a small, silent man, with a grave, yellow face ; "backen browed," as the folks about there said, and with black coarse hair.

His eyes were narrow, hazel in colour, and sunk deep in his head. He had always a preoccupied air. When he had nothing to engage his attention, he would pace up and down his stone-paved kitchen, his hands clasped behind him, rather than sit down. _ He made no friends. He showed no disposition to encourage gossip. He neither talked about his own affairs nor enquired into the concerns of others. He lived a solitary life, but without doubt a blameless one. No one knew what his experiences were in the past, nor what were his plans for the future. There was no certainty about his birth-place ; No one could say with any confidence whence he came. It is not, therefore, to be wondered at that once more "Sinclair's Farm" was declared to have an uncanny tenant. This taciturn bilious-looking man had some eccentricities too which further increased the neighbours' curiosity.

He would not have a female servant on the farm. Ere the day broke he was up busy with the house work, lighting the fire, setting the breakfast. To the dairy he attended himself, and those who doubted him most were compelled to admit that his butter was the best to be had in the market. Though he prepared the meals for the hands he never sat with them, but "ate alone when they ha<l gone about-their work. No one in his employment could complain of harsh treatment at his hands, nor had they any faults to find with their " diets." But the men said the place was " awfu' lonesome," and when the evening came they wearied for the morning's light. So they rarely stayed long with him. As sure as November or April came round, so sure was he to put the lank mare into his crazy " Whitechapel " and jog to the hiring fair in Ayr in search of fresh servants.

Had yo» watched him one drear morning in the first-named month, listlessly dressing his bony hack in clumsy, shabby harness, you would observed that bis expression was a highly intelligent one. Sadness hung over his face like a veil ; but his brow was high and well-formed, curiously white, too, it looked, between his raven hair and sallow cheeks. His dark moustache, which ran into ample whiskers and a full beard, concealed a refined mouth. Altogether, he wore the aspect of a thoughtful man of some cultivation — of one who had seen more sorrow than he had done wrong. A cold brackish breeze from the sea swept over the fallow earth, fluttered his coat, and lost itself in. strident whispers among the leafless trees. The heavy clouds overhead were chasing one another with great swiftness, as though anxious to leave no place bright.

The roads were hard, with patches of ice in the holes and ruts here ari€ there.. Save for the bits of cover and the great cluster of firs away to the right, the country had a bleak, cruel look. Passing through the last " yett," which guarded the private way to the home stead, John Mure found himself on the High road to Ayr, and soon he came in sight of others journeying in the same direction, and in the same unpretending way as himself. John looked neither to his right hand nor to his left, but, as it seemed, straight between the ears of his animal. Such as overtook him nudcred one another as they passed, and those in front often stole curious glances at hrm From the listless way he held the reins — the horse taking him rather than he directing it — it was evident that hi^ thoughts were busy with other scenes and far from the people who were so curious about him, far from the immediate business he had in hand.

The November Hiring Fair, though not quite so well attended by the lassies as the one held in April, brightens the old town of Ayr and makes it busy Even on this grey November day the High Street presented an animated sight The girls brilliant <in their variegated finery ; the lads spruce and glowing in wonderful neckties. JFolks and vehicles queerly mixed in the highway. Farmer's sons tearing from one hotel to another, as though the day would end ere th 0. 7 had their fill of fun. Farmers themselves were staidly discussing current prices gravely engaged in shaking hands, or with mellowed lightness of speech seeking where a "wee pickle o' the rale guid skreigh"* might be obtained. An unmistakable odour of hair oil and yellow soap is over the whole, and the general tendency is to take a lively view of life and its responsibilities.

If the master is frequent in his visits to the hotel the hind enjoys his glass arid his crack in bis hows. In a tavern close to Wallace Monument a merry company had taken possession of one of the largest rooms. For the most part it consisted of farm servants —rosy shining-cheeked lassies, and healthy-looking men, but there were some town lads among them. In one corner, with his chin on his chest apparently dozing, was a young fellow who, though his frock-coat was frayed, arid the bottoms of the legs of his trousers had been cut to make them even, was evidently unaccustomed to sit with servants. " Weel Rab," cried a sturdy ploughman to a merry-looking fellow, who sat on the other side of the room busy with two bouncing lassies, "sae ye're no staying on wi' Martin ? " "Ach no ! Yon's no a place ava.

Ye get naething there but porritch, an' they're sae thin that they'll rin nineteen miles on a fir brod, an' burn the de'il at the end o't." "That'll dae for you," said the one who had first spoken, " Rab's the boy," declared another. "Rab's aye reading," insinuated a man, who seemed jealous of the mirth excited, " an' he's gotten a guid memory forbye. They are nae all his ain puns he gies us." "It's a sac'," cried Rab, ignoring the last speaker, " sure as death it's a sac', ye canna get ye're meat at Martin's, though he's a great boy to talk o' the love he has for us — ay is he. Here's healths, lads, and may ye hae mair siller the next time we forgaither, for the de'il leave me at Loudoun Hill if I've tasted to-day without paying. It's good for me I've siller in my pouch, or maybe I'll hae tae try wee Sandy's trick." ' ' An' whit was that, Rab ?

" » "Weel, ye ken Sandy was ay drouthy. He had the finest preserved drouth in a' Ayrshire. Naething in the way o' liquor ever spoilt it. It needed a heap o' siller tae support a drouth like Sandy's, and whiles, puir body, it was not easy getting a taste ava. One morning when he was feeling rale badly he went into Mrs Macpherson's. 'I'm geyan dry this morn,' he says, 'an' I'm sair needing a dram.' 'Gin ye've the siller Sandy,' said the gudewife, 'we'll soon gie ye a dram.' 'It's the siller I'm wanting,' says Sandy, 'and ye'll need tae tak' my word for it the noo, Mrs Macpherson.' ' Deed, Sandy,' says she, ' that horse will no tak' the hill. I've mair o' your promises in ma till than I hae bawbees.' 'Wull ye no tak' ma word for it?' he asks. 'Deed, I winna,' she answers. ' Ye're an awfu' women," he says.

Then he luikit at her as though he had been a bailie trying her. ' Woman,' he says, in tones that njade tb» very soles of her shoon swirl, ' if ye'll no tak' ma word, maybe ye'll tak' the word o' God ! ' Wi' that he clappit his bit Bible on the counter, and got his dram." Applause and general orders for whisky followed this anecdote. "You're a great warrior, Rab," said one. "It's an auld ane," declared the discontented man. "Maybe," returned Rab, dryly, "but it's a guid ane. If ye've a newer or a better, there's a wheen folk in the room would like to hear it." The discontented man was silent. "An' hoo are ye keepin' yersel, Johnny?" Rab continued. "Brawly." " Ye're aye wi' yon man Farquharson," "Ay." "There's a bonnie lass there," cried one of the men, " an' John was aye fond "It's no them wha talk maist can dae maist," said Rab.

"I've seen John as Whisk} . SINCLAIR'S FARM ; 8 blate as a moose. I doubt, if it came tae the point, he'd be like Tammie Raeburn, of Grongar. " " Whit was wrang wi' him," asked several. " Weel he'd had his een on a lass for mony a lang year, but he cudna pluck up coura«e'to speak till her. Ae day he came to the determination that he could bide single no longer. So putting on his Sunday clothes, he gangs tae her hoose and knocks at the door. When he sees her, de'il a wag would his tongue gie. She speered him what his business was, but he cudna answer her. At last, with a most prodigious effort, he asked her if she could tell him the road to Finnick ? When the merriment, which this story excited, had subsided, Rab was asked where he was going now he had left Martin's. _ " Ye'll stare when I tell you," said he.

" But I've gotten a place at Sinclair s Farm." " Sinclair's Farm ! " they echoed, a little fearfully. '" Ay, I saw the auld man — John Mure, ye ken, doun bye, and just settled the business in twa ticks. " The seedy-looking young man who had been sleeping, awoke. He yawned and stretched himself as a cat might. It was seen now that his hair was long, fluffy, and badly kept. He had a narrow, thin, pale face, and a way of lolling" his head on one of his shoulders when looking at women. His eyes were blood shot. His whole appearance spoke of late hours and general dissipation. " Did you say John Mure ? " he asked. "Ay," answered Rab, eyeing the questioner with small favour, for the fellow had already commenced to ogle the ruddy-cheeked young ladies who hail placed themselves under the protection of the ploughman.

This disreputable-looking young man plied the company generally with a number of questions concerning the tenant of Sinclair's Farm, and the answers he received appeared to occasion him the liveliest satisfaction. His drowsy appearance vanished, some colour came to his cheeks, and his eye brightened. " And how far is Sinclair's Farm from here?" " Maybe a matter of seven miles on the Girvan road," was the answer. The young man drained the half-finished mug of muddy beer that stood in front of him, buttoned his greasy frock coat across his breast, and flopped out of the room, grimacing at the girls as he did so. In the lobby a violent cough made him pause. At the end of the paroxysm a little blood gathered about his lips. He looked out on to the busy thoroughfare irresolutely, like a timid bather who stands shivering on the shore.

Suddenly he made a plunge into the human stream, and, with his head down, hastened on though most anxious to avoid recognition. " I think yon chappie's daft," said the man who had been addressed as Johnny. " Gin I had the lend o' him I ken fine whit I could dae with him," said Rab. " An' whit wad that be?" " I'd mak' a tattie bogle o' him tae frichten the craws wi'.' 0. 9

Chapter II. Walter Weir

In one of the pleasantest dells in all broad Ayrshire and within two miles of Sinclair's Farm, stands a moderate-sized house which, m hen seen in the summer time surrounded by flowers and shrubs of all kinds, with a gleaming streamlet bickering among the brackens at its side, is not soon forgotten, so strong is the impression made by its beauty, the joyous notes of the innumerable birds which never quite desert it, and the sense of holy peace which pervades it. The peculiarly refreshing appearance which its gardens have is v, ithout doubt due to the fact that they are not parcelled out with mathematical precision. No geommetrical beds with kaleidoscopic arrangement of colours are to be found here, nor slended sticks with a solitary rose on the top of them, nor prim, close-clipped borders, but the careless luxuriance of a good old-fashioned garden.

The chill days of October and the sharper November nights did not rob this spot of all its beauty. The bracken showed a warm red. The hardy evergreens and some sturdy flowers that despised the keen winds, and the biting frosts lingered on to preserve the ground from desolation. Greenfield House, as it was called, was the property of Mrs. Weir, a widow, and, unhappily, blind. But though she wanted that greatest of God's earthly blessings, her eyesight, it was her hands that had planted all the flowers, and to her care it was due that every year the house was surrounded by so much verdure and brilliant colour. Mr. Weir had been a captain in the Merchant Service, and by a few lucky speculations, had amassed a pleasant share of this world's goods. When he retired, Greenfield House, with a small piece of land attached, was for sale, and he bought it, intending to pass the rest of his days in the peaceful cultivation of his cabbages.

But, as frequently happens, his retirement from activity was quickly followed by an inexorable call to an eternal rest. He passed placidly away, happy in the knowledge that his wife and two boys were well provided for. Happily for him, his last hour was not darkened by the knowledge that the woman he loved so tenderly was soon to be so afflicted. A cataract. formed on one eye, and she submitted to an operation for its cure. The attempt, unskillfully made, was not successful, and in the end she lost the sight of both. This terrible calamity did not once unnerve her. No vain complaining against fate escaped her. Indeed it seemed as though she did not feel her loss so bitterly as did her sons. In course of time she became, in a measure, accustomed to the ever-present darkness. She moved about the house and gardens with tolerable ease and safety.

The care of her flower beds was her great solace. She said that she could feel the colours of the flowers, and from the way she planted, it seemed as though she had acquired the power of making a mental picture of the whole grounds. Walter, her eldest boy,, having a fancy to that profession, had studied medicine, and had secured what he was pleased to call " his license to slay " but a little before the period at which this history opens. He had established himself in practice in Ayr, not because he believed that there was any great demand for his services there, or that he would make anything like a tolerable income for some time to come, but for the reason that he would be near his blind mother. Though his surgery was in the "auld toon," and had a bedroom attached to it, he practically lived at Greenfield.

Great indeed was the occasion that kept him from that sunny house on the Sabbath. Too often his planned visit of "from Saturday till Monday " extended itself till Tuesday, and Thursday night would often see him back again. Ralph, the younger of the two, exhibited no particular inclination to, or aptitude for, any calling, though it was agreed by those who knew him best that SINCLAIR S FARM ; he would shine as an idler. In some unconsidered way he drifted into a merchant s office in Glasgow. It must be confessed that the reports which Walter received ot his progress there were far from satisfactory. His frequent requests for money, and in no small sums either, perplexed and sorely troubled his steady-going brother. From his mother, however, Walter was careful to keep all his suspicions and anxieties.