“A good simile, Mr. Ingram!” replied George. “You must come and dine with me, and we'll open another sort of bottle!” “You must excuse me there, sir! I have no time for that sort of bottle.” “I understand you read a great deal?” “Weather permitting,” returned Andrew. “I should have thought if anything was independent of the weather, it must be reading!” “Not a farmer's reading, sir. To him the weather is the Word of God, telling him whether to work or read.” George was silent. To him the Word of God was the Bible! “But you must read a great deal yourself, sir!” resumed Andrew, casting a glance round the room. “The books are my father's!” said George. He did not mention that his own reading came all in the library-cart, except when he wanted some special information; for George was “a practical man!” He read his Bible to prepare for his class in the Sunday-school, and his Shakespeare when he was going to see one of his plays acted. He would make the best of both worlds by paying due attention to both! He was religious, but liberal. His father was a banker, an elder of the kirk, well reputed in and beyond his circle. He gave to many charities, and largely to educational schemes. His religion was to hold by the traditions of the elders, and keep himself respectable in the eyes of money-dealers. He went to church regularly, and always asked God's blessing on his food, as if it were a kind of general sauce. He never prayed God to make him love his neighbor, or help him to be an honest man. He “had worship” every morning, no doubt; but only a Nonentity like his God could care for such prayers as his. George rejected his father's theology as false in logic and cruel in character: George knew just enough of God to be guilty of neglecting Him. “When I am out all day, I can do with less reading; for then I have the 'book of knowledge fair,'” said Andrew, quoting Milton. “It does not take _all_ one's attention to drive a straight furrow or keep the harrow on the edge of the last bout!” “You don't mean you can read your Bible as you hold the plow!” said George. “No, sir,” answered Andrew, amused. “A body could not well manage a book between the stilts of the plow. The Bible will keep till you get home; a little of it goes a long way. But Paul counted the book of creation enough to make the heathen to blame for not minding it. Never a wind wakes of a sudden, but it talks to me about God. And is not the sunlight the same that came out of the body of Jesus at His transfiguration?” “You seem to have some rather peculiar ideas of your own, Mr. Ingram!” “Perhaps, sir! For a man to have no ideas of his own, is much the same as to have no ideas at all. A man can not have the ideas of another man, any more than he can have another man's soul, or another man's body!” “That is dangerous doctrine.” “Perhaps we are not talking about the same thing! I mean by _ideas_, what a man orders his life by.” “Your ideas may be wrong!”