Thus Duff's course as a college student was one of activity, cheerfulness and success. Can we doubt that his life in Scotland was a happy one? Dearly did he love his country, his family and his friends, and with such talents as his, he was likely to rise in the world. Why should Duff ever leave his beautiful country and those to whom he was dear? Yet Duff did leave all with a willing heart, he exchanged his pleasant studies for hard and toilsome work, he went thousands of miles from his father's home to dwell amongst strangers. Why he did this you will see in the following Chapter. ———————— CHAPTER II. TAKING UP THE CLOAK. Amongst the friends of Duff there was one to him especially dear; this young man's name was John Urquhart. Theirs was a love to last unto death, and even after death, for its strength was this: that both the friends adored the same Lord, both delighted in His service, and both looked forward to dwelling together in a bright home beyond the grave. Often when Duff went in holiday time to his parents' house, he talked to them much about John Urquhart. He told how one day Urquhart, addressing his follow-students, had told them that he was going to devote himself to Missionary work, and charged every one of his companions to think seriously over the subject of spreading the Gospel in heathen lands. The name of John Urquhart had grown quite familiar to the parents of Alexander Duff, from the accounts of him given to them by their son, as he sat and talked with them by the cheerful fire-light in their home amidst the Grampian Hills. Perhaps Duff's mother sometimes thought, "I am glad that it is Urquhart and not my Aleck who is going so far away. My clever son will be a pastor and dwell near us, and I shall hear him when he stands in the pulpit, preaching the Word with that eloquence which every one praises! I shall watch his success, oh! with what gladness and pride! I wonder if Urquhart has a mother, and, if so, how she can bear to part with such a son! I am thankful that my Aleck is not to be a Missionary like his friend." A time arrived when Alexander Duff came home for his winter vacation with a sad heart and a burdened mind. His parents welcomed him, as usual, with tender love, and he brightened up to cheer them; nothing seems to have passed at first to awaken his mother's fears. Doubtless she spread the table with the nice bannocks of barley meal which she had prepared with her own hands, and stirred the fire to a brighter blaze, and fondly gazed on the face of her son, now a fine young man in the prime of his strength. Duff sat and talked of many things, for when he returned from college he had always much to tell, and he related stories with such spirit, that it was ever a pleasure to listen. But it surprised Duff's parents that he did not so much as mention John Urquhart, the favourite friend who used to be a principal theme of his talk.