To recognize an auld blessin' 's 'maist better nor to get a new ane.

A pair o' shune weel cobblet 's whiles full better nor a new pair." "They are that," said Donal; "but I dinna jist see hoo yer seemile applies." "Isna gettin' on a pair o' auld weel-kent an' weel men'it shune, 'at winna nip yer feet nor yet shochle, like waukin' up til a blessin' ye hae been haein' for years, only ye didna ken 't for ane ?" As he spoke, the cobbler lifted a little wizened face and a pair of twinkling eyes to those of the student, revealing a soul as original as his own.

He was one of the inwardly inseparable, outwardly far divided company of Christian philosophers, among whom individuality as well as patience is free to work its perfect work.

In that glance Donal saw a ripe soul looking out of its tent door, ready to rush into the sunshine of the new life.
He stood for a moment lost in eternal regard of the man.

He seemed to have known him for ages.