stepped inside and closed the window, muttering, "I like the impetuosity of that youth; he's not such a prig as he seems." Then he walked over to the fire, and, drawing up to it a capacious arm chair, established himself within the pleasant warmth. The dogs came too, with damp paws and ncses, and, blinking their eyes at the heat, sat themselves on end to get warmed through. Gran looked at them through her spectacles, and, could they have been slain by a glance, they would then and there have given up the ghost; but, confident in their master's company, they remained indifferent to her wrath. The two sat silent for some time. Brough had no desire to commence conversation; he did not consider his mother as a person open to any rational discussion. She regarded him as equally hopeless; but she was swayed by an emotion which he had not-a desire to influence events. Brough liked events to take care of themselves. Lil's marriage was a greater loss to him than to anyone else; but if the child must fall in love, why, she must. That was how he looked at it; and the man she loved could not be altered or changed by action or word of Brough's. So he took the matter philosophically, and felt grateful that Charlie Newman was a gentleman and capable of being in earnest. But Gran, if she had religion, had no philosophy. She felt that, at all hazards, she must try and alter the course of events. She must save Lil's soul, if possible, from being finally given over to hell-fire by her connection with an avowed infidel. And so, after a while, when it became evident that Lil and her lover had taken themselves off, she made an attack upon Brough. "Is it really the fact," she com menced, "that this young man has proposed for our dear child?" 66 Proposed? certainly," said Brough, looking up from the pages of a "heathen writer," which he had just taken from a shelf hard by. "And do you intend giving your consent?" she asked with great earnestness. 66 'Why, yes; Lil seems inclined to marry him; he is a gentleman and a scholar. So, why not ?" "Ah, my son," said the old lady, "these are but trifling matters beside the important concerns of the soul. What is it that our dear child's future husband is gentlemanly or learned, if he is without principle, without religion, unwilling to guide her to the house of prayer, unable to raise her life from the shallow and frivolous into that of an earnest Christian soul striving for salvation?" Brough made no response. So, after a scrutinising look at him, she proceeded. You know, my son, how my soul yearns over the child. I cannot see her thus rush into a career of irreligion without making an effort to save her from it. It grieves me to the heart to hear you speak so lightly of a matter so vital: a matter that concerns our child's eternal welfare. What is it that her partner should be a gentleman! My prayer is not that he should have the outward seeming of gentility, but that he should. be filled with the sanctity of religion. Now, this young man has openly avowed himself an infidel, and I cannot but speak, although I know my words fall idly on ears like yours. You are without religion yourself-without the blessing of prayer-without the knowledge of God; how can I hope you will listen to me!" Brough had risen from his chair, and was standing on the hearthrug, his head high in the air. His mother had still the power to rouse him. He did not relish this wholesale accusation against that part of his nature which he most deeply gloried in. you are "My dear mother," he said very slowly, and with a great appearance of calmness, " speaking without accurate information. I tell you that when I walk up and down beneath the trees in that garden I see God by my side; that I talk to Him and hear His voice in reply. Perhaps what you call prayer is this raising of the spirit into communion with God; but"-he turned to say this, for he had begun to stalk away"I don't remember ever having specially asked Him about my own salvation; it would have seemed rather egotistical." He again opened the French window; the dogs, at the sound, started impetuously from the hearth rug and joined him. He went out, closing it behind him, and strode across the lawn. Nobody was visible, though he called "Baby," and walked all about the garden. He peered into the boat house; one of the boats was gone. "The young scamps!" he ejaculated aloud; and the dogs, finding themselves the only audience, wagged their tails, as if in approval of the sentiment. He looked out into the river, and presently, in response to a stentorian shout of 66 Baby," there came a light laugh across from the other side. "Come in, you two," he shouted, "you will catch cold, and I want somebody to talk to." A second after, the boat shot out from the shelter of some drooping trees, and Brough stood still to enjoy the sight; for in the magic moonlight Lil and her lover seemed a fairy prince and princess voyaging upon some dim and undiscovered sea of silver. As they reached the shore Brough went down and lifted Lil out. "It's getting late, baby," he said, "and you are cold. What bright eyes you have, you little scamp! Do you know I'm confoundedly hungry. We didn't eat any dinner. Couldn't you get Gran to bed, and come down again yourself? We might have a jolly supper." "All right papa," laughed Lil, "I'll go and try." And she ran off to the house, scattering the dry fallen leaves with her swift feet and long white robe. She found Gran sitting still by the fire, her hands folded in her lap, her face set with thoughtful perplexity. Grandmamma, isn't it time for bed ?" said Lil cheerfully, as she knelt down to warm her hands. Gran looked up. "My dear," she said, "what does your father mean? He tells me that when he walks under the trees in the garden God is with him, and he talks to him. What can he mean? There is no open vision now. The word of the Lord was precious, even in the days of Samuel; for there was then no open vision. What does he mean?" "I'm sure I don't know, Grandmamma," said naughty Lil, absently. Her eyes were on the fire; but what she saw was a scene in the moonlight, and her inner ears heard, not Gran's words, but the sound of another voice, which had this night been strangely per suasive. rose slowly and wearily to go to rest. She was not much sadder than usual in consequence of her wilful children taking their own ways so plainly. Having put the matter aside, her manner to Lil was just the same, although she regarded her as obstinately bent upon marrying an infidel, and therefore doomed to eternal perdition. Having seen Gran safe on the road to bed, Lil deliberately ran off. She retreated quietly without making known her intentions; for she did not want to have to submit just then to any more of Gran's searching questions. And an irregular supper would have scandalised Gran terribly at any time. So Lil, throwing a white shawl over her shoulders-for, though she would not confess it, she had got a little chilled on the waterran downstairs to the dining-room. Here she found a big fire: on the table were various amateur preparations for supper. The servants had gone to bed, and Brough had been investigating the larder on his own account. He was grilling slices of cold beef on the coals and making a salad at one and the same time; with Charlie Newman in active service under his directions. They were laughing and talking uproariously when Lil came in. She sat herself down in a little chair in the middle of the hearthrug like a small Queen of Bohemia as she was. 66 and standing in front of her, Papa considers himself asked, and says All right:' am I still to ask Grandmamma ?" Why, no," said Lil; "but you have been through what I meant you would have to go through when I said that; and I think you behaved very badly. I felt as if " "Now then, children, don't quarrel," interrupted Brough. "Here, Baby, eat this while it is hot. I believe you have been too excited to eat anything for a week." "Papa," said Lil, taking her supper plate and looking at it contemplatively. "How is it that we three don't agree a bit, and yet we can get on so well; and that it is so different with Gran ?" "If we can't agree about anything else, we can agree to be jolly together," remarked Charlie, sagely. "That's about it," said Brough. "The old lady is crystallised; she can't tolerate anybody of opposite views or different character from her own. One of the very few blessings of modern civilisation is tolerance. I strongly disapprove of both you children; but I like you uncommonly at the same time. If you fellows feel much the same, suppose we form a Mutual Toleration Society on the spot.' "Done!" cried Charlie, "here's to its health in a tumbler of claret." And Gran, just going off to sleep, was scandalised and startled "Now," said Charlie. coming by distant sounds of merriment. "Isn't this nice!" she said. THE END. CONTEMPORARY PORTRAITS. NEW SERIES.-No. 12. WILLIAM SPOTTISWOODE, F.R.S., D.C.L., &c. THE name of Spottiswoode has been known to the general public for a number of years, mainly by its appearance on the title-page of Bibles. But, among the members of learned societies and the circles of men of culture, Mr. William Spottiswoode has long borne a high and unquestioned reputation as a scientific scholar and author. Under the reclusive influence of advanced studies, he was too much absorbed in his unassuming pursuit of science to throw out a challenge for popular reputation; and when at the meeting of the British Association at Dublin, in August last, he delivered the inaugural address, many were doubtless taken by surprise with the magnitude of the scope of his observations, and the lucidity and order of his expositions. That address was a verification, if any were needed, of the too little considered fact that it is the quiet student that does the real work, and that those whose names are most noised about, and whose fragmentary works are so repeatedly gathered together into scrambling volumes-not to miss the popular demand of the moment-are not invariably the truest masters. William Spottiswoode was born in London 11th January, 1825. He belongs to an ancient Scottish family, which has attained distinction from generation to generation not only in its native country, but also, by the force of its sturdy offshoots, in the New World. The surname of Spottiswoode is of the soil, and was assumed by the owners of lands in the county of Berwick as soon as surnames became hereditary in Scotland. The male line, so says tradition, failed in the thirteenth century, when a member of the house of Gordon married the heiress and took her name. In the sixteenth century a John Spottis woode was great in divinity and controversy, and a fosterer of the Reformation, his grandson again, of the same name, being Archbishop of Glasgow and of St. Andrews, and Lord High Chancellor of Scotland. In the seventeenth century there was a baronetcy in the family, held by Sir Robert Spottiswoode, President of the Court of Session, and in the |