Uncle Bryan asked no questions when we returned, and the day passed quietly. He devoted the evening to smoking and reading. My mother did not like the smoke at first, but it was not long before she schooled herself to fill uncle Bryan's pipe for him. So, with a pair of horn spectacles on his nose, and his pipe in his mouth, uncle Bryan read and enjoyed his leisure. Occasionally he took his pipe from his mouth, and read a few words aloud. At one time he became deeply engrossed in a book which he took from a shelf in the shop, and he read the following passage aloud: 'That the consciousness of existence is not dependent on the same form or the same matter is demonstrated to our senses in the works of the Creator, as far as our senses are capable of receiving that demonstration. A very numerous part of the animal creation preaches to us, far better than Paul, the belief in a life hereafter. Their little life resembles an earth and a heaven, a present and a future state; and comprises, if it may be so expressed, immortality in miniature.' 'Immortality in miniature!' repeated my mother, in a puzzled tone. 'What is that from, Bryan?' 'The _Age of Reason_,' he answered. There was a long pause, broken again by uncle Bryan's voice: 'If we consider the nature of our condition here, we must see there is no occasion for such thing as revealed religion. What is it we want to know? Does not the creation, the universe we behold, preach to us the existence of an Almighty Power, that governs and regulates the whole? And is not the evidence that this creation, holds out to our senses infinitely stronger than anything we can read in a book that any impostor might make and call the word of God? As for morality, the knowledge of it exists in every man's conscience.' Presently he laid the book aside, and my mother took it up. Uncle Bryan stretched forth his hand with the intention of keeping it from her; but he was too late. He gazed at her furtively from beneath his horn spectacles, as she turned over the pages. After a few minutes' inspection of the book she returned his gaze sadly, and, with a protecting motion, drew me to her side. I had not liked uncle Bryan's laugh, and I liked it less now. 'Chris, my dear child,' said my mother, in a tone of infinite tenderness, 'go upstairs and bring down my Bible.' I did as she desired, and my mother caressed me close, with her arm round my waist. Uncle Bryan sat on one side of the fireplace, reading the _Age of Reason_; my mother sat on the other side, reading the Bible. CHAPTER X. OUR NEW HOME.