A spring morning and a safety razor had convinced him that he was still young.

Since yesterday he was a man of a large leisure.

Providence had done for him what he would never have done for himself.

The rut in which he had travelled so long had given place to open country.

He repeated to himself one of the quotations with which he had been wont to stir the literary young men at the Guthrie Memorial Kirk: "What's a man's age?
He must hurry more, that's all; Cram in a day, what his youth took a year to hold: When we mind labour, then only, we're too old-- What age had Methusalem when he begat Saul?
He would go journeying--who but he ?--pleasantly." It sounds a trivial resolve, but it quickened Mr.McCunn to the depths of his being.