E. H, PIERCE,. 
 OLD BOOK SHOP, 
 
 2130 Oxford St., 
 Berkelev. - Calif. 
 
TO MY WIFE 
 
** There grows a bonnie brier bush in our kail-yard, 
 And white are the blossoms on't in our kail-yard." 
 
: J*^- 
 
Beside the 
 Bonnie Brier Bush 
 
 New York 
 Dodd, Mead and Company 
 
COPYRIGHT, I 8 94j 
 
e>4 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 DOMSIE. 
 
 I. . A LAD o' PAIRTS, . , i 
 II. How WE CARRIED THE NEWS TO 
 
 WHINNIE KNOWE, ... 13 
 
 III. IN MARGET'S GARDEN, ... 20 
 
 IV. A SCHOLAR'S FUNERAL, . . 29 
 
 A HIGHLAND MYSTIC. 
 
 I. WHAT EYE HATH NOT SEEN, . . 39 
 
 II. AGAINST PRINCIPALITIES AND POWERS, 49 
 
 HIS MOTHER'S SERMON, ... 59 
 
 THE TRANSFORMATION OF LACK- 
 LAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 I. A GRAND INQUISITOR, . . . 71 
 
 II. His BITTER SHAME, .... 85 
 
 III. LIKE AS A FATHER, . . . 100 
 
 IV. As A LITTLE CHILD, . . . .112 
 
 THE CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUM- 
 
 TOCHTY, . . . . 123, 
 
 264027 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A WISE WOMAN. 
 
 I. OUR SERMON TASTER, . . .137 
 II. THE COLLAPSE OF MRS. MACFADYEN, 147 
 
 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL, 
 
 I. A GENERAL PRACTITIONER, / 157 
 
 II. THROUGH THE FLOOD, . . . 170 
 
 III. A FIGHT WITH DEATH, . . . ^83 
 
 IV. THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY, . 195 
 V* THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN, . . 207 
 
DOMSIE. 
 
 A LAD O' PAIRTS. 
 
 THE Revolution reached our parish years ago, 
 and Drumtbchty has a School Board, with a chair- 
 man and a clerk, besides a treasurer and an officer. 
 Young Hillocks, who had two years in a lawyer's 
 office, is clerk, and summons meetings by post, 
 although he sees every member at the market or 
 the kirk. Minutes are read with much solemnity, 
 and motions to expend ten shillings upon a coal- 
 cellar door passed, on the motion of Hillocks, 
 seconded by Drumsheugh, who are both severely 
 prompted for the occasion, and move uneasily 
 before speaking. 
 
 Drumsheugh was at first greatly exalted by his 
 poll, and referred freely on market days to his 
 " plumpers," but as time went on the irony of the 
 situation laid hold upon him. 
 
 " Think o' you and me, Hillocks, veesitin' the 
 schule and sittin' wi' bukes in oor hands watchin' 
 the Inspector. Keep's a', it's eneuch to mak' the 
 auld Dominie turn in his grave. Twa meenisters 
 
/!** .* * 
 
 2 * * 'DOMSIE. 
 
 cam' in his time, and Domsie put Geordie Hoo or 
 some ither gleg laddie, that was makin' for college, 
 thro' his facin's, and maybe some bit lassie brocht 
 her copybuke. Syne they had. their dinner, and 
 Domsie tae, wi' the Doctor. Man, a've often 
 thocht it was the prospeck o' the Schule Board and 
 its weary bit rules that feenished Domsie. He 
 wasna maybe sae shairp at the elements as this 
 pirjinct body we hae noo, but a'body kent he was 
 a terrible scholar and a credit tae the parish. 
 Drumtochty was a name in thae days wi' the lads 
 he sent tae college. It was maybe juist as weel he 
 slippit awa' when he did, for he wud hae taen ill 
 with thae new fikes, and nae college lad to warm 
 his hert." 
 
 The present school-house stands in an open 
 place beside the main road to Muirtown, treeless 
 and comfortless, built of red, staring stone, with a 
 playground for the boys and another for the girls, 
 and a trim, smug-looking teacher's house, all very 
 neat and symmetrical, and well regulated. The 
 local paper had a paragraph headed " Drumtochty," 
 written by the Muirtown architect, describing the 
 whole premises in technical language that seemed 
 to compensate the ratepayers for the cost, mention- 
 ing the contractor's name, and concluding that 
 " this handsome building of the Scoto-Grecian style 
 was one of the finest works that had ever come from 
 the accomplished architect's hands." It has pitch- 
 pine benches and map-cases, and a thermometer 
 to be kept at not less than 58 and not more than 
 62, and ventilators which the Inspector is careful 
 
A LAD <T PAIRTS. 3 
 
 to examine. When I stumbled in last week the 
 teacher was drilling the children in Tonic Sol-fa 
 with a little harmonium, and I left on tiptoe. 
 ' It is difficult to live up to this kind of thing, and 
 my thoughts drift to the auld schule-house and 
 Domsie. Some one with the love of God in his 
 heart had built it long ago, and chose a site for the 
 bairns in the sweet pine woods at the foot of the 
 cart road to Whinnie Knowe and the upland 
 farms. It stood in a clearing with the tall Scotch 
 firs round three sides, and on the fourth a brake of 
 gorse and bramble bushes, through which there 
 was an opening to the road. The clearing was 
 the playground, and in summer the bairns annexed 
 as much wood as they liked, playing tig among 
 the trees, or sitting down at dinner-time on the 
 soft, dry spines that made an elastic carpet every- 
 where. Domsie used to say there were two pleas- 
 ant sights for his old eyes every day. One was to 
 stand in the open at dinner-time and see the flit- 
 ting forms of the healthy, rosy, sonsie bairns in the 
 wood, and from the door in the afternoon to watch 
 the schule skail till each group was lost in the 
 kindly shadow, and the merry shouts died away in 
 this quiet place. Then the Dominie took a pinch 
 of snuff and locked the door, and went to his 
 house beside the school. One evening I came on 
 him listening bare-headed to the voices, and he 
 showed so kindly that I shall take him as he 
 stands. A man of middle height, but stooping be- 
 low it, with sandy hair turning to gray, and bushy 
 eye-brow covering keen, shrewd gray eyes. You 
 
4 DOMSIE. 
 
 will notice that his linen is coarse but spotless, and 
 that, though his clothes are worn almost thread- 
 bare, they are well brushed and orderly. But you 
 will be chiefly arrested by the Dominie's coat, for 
 the like of it was not in the parish. It was a black 
 dress coat, and no man knew when it had begun 
 its history; in its origin and its continuance 
 it resembled Melchisedek. Many were the myths 
 that gathered round that coat, but on this all were 
 agreed, that without it we could not have realized 
 the Dominie, and it became to us the sign and 
 trappings of learning. He had taken a high place 
 at the University, and won a good degree, and I've 
 heard the Doctor say that he had a career before 
 him. But something happened in his life, and 
 Domsie buried himself among the woods with the 
 bairns of Drumtochcy. No one knew the story, 
 but after he died I found a locket on his breast, 
 with a proud, beautiful face within, and I have 
 fancied it was a tragedy. It may have been in 
 substitution that he gave all his love to the chil- 
 dren, and nearly all his money too, helping lads to 
 college, and affording an inexhaustible store of pep- 
 \^permints for the little ones. 
 
 Perhaps one ought to have been ashamed of 
 that school-house, but yet it had its own distinc- 
 tion, for scholars were born there, and now and 
 then to this day some famous man will come and 
 stand in the deserted playground for a space. The 
 door was at one end, and stood open in summer 
 so that the boys saw the rabbits come out from 
 their holes on the edge of the wood, and birds 
 
A LAD 6>' PAIRTS. 5 
 
 sometimes flew in unheeded. The fireplace was 
 at the other end, and was fed in winter with the 
 sticks and peats brought by the scholars. On one 
 side Domsie sat with the half-dozen lads he hoped 
 t send to college, to whom he grudged no labour, 
 and on the other gathered the very little ones, who 
 used to warm their bare feet at the fire, while 
 down the sides of the room the other scholars sat 
 at their rough old desks, working sums and copy- 
 ing. Now and then a class came up and did some 
 task, and at times a boy got the tawse for his neg- 
 ligence, but never a girl. He kept the girls in 
 as their punishment, with a brother to take them 
 home, and both had tea in Domsie's house, with a 
 bit of his best honey, departing much torn between 
 an honest wish to please Domsie and a pardonable 
 longing for another tea. 
 
 " Domsie," as we called the schoolmaster, behind 
 his back in Drumtochty, because we loved him, 
 was true to the tradition of his kind and had an 
 unerring scent for " pairts " in his laddies,^ He 
 could detect a scholar in the egg, and prophesied 
 Latinity from a boy that seemed fit only to be a 
 cowherd. /It was believed that he had never made 
 a mistake in judgment, and it was not his blame if 
 the embryo scholar did not come to birth/ " Five 
 and thirty years have I been minister at Drum- 
 tochty," the Doctor used to say at school examina- 
 tions, " and we have never wanted a student at the 
 University, and while Dominie Jamieson lives we 
 never shall." Whereupon Domsie took snuff, and 
 assigned his share of credit to the Doctor, " who 
 
6 DOMSIE. 
 
 gave the finish in Greek to every lad of them, with- 
 out money and without price, to make no mention 
 of the higher mathematics." Seven ministers, four 
 schoolmasters, four doctors, one professor, and 
 three civil service men had been sent out by the 
 auld schule in Domsie's time, besides many that 
 " had given themselves to mercantile pursuits," 
 
 He had a leaning to classics and the professions, 
 but Domsie was catholic in his recognition of 
 " pairts," and when the son of Hillocks' foreman 
 made a collection of the insects of Drumtochty, 
 there was a council at the manse. " Bumbee 
 Willie," as he had been pleasantly called by his 
 companions, was rescued from ridicule and encour- 
 aged to fulfil his bent. Once a year a long letter 
 came to Mr. Patrick Jamieson, M. A., Schoolmas- 
 ter, Drumtochty, N. B., and the address within was 
 the British Museum. When Domsie read this let- 
 ter to the school, he was always careful to explain 
 that " Dr. Graham is the greatest living authority 
 on beetles," and, generally speaking, if any clever 
 lad did not care for Latin, he had the alternative of 
 beetles. 
 
 But it was Latin Domsie hunted for as for fine 
 gold, and when he found the smack of it in a 
 lad he rejoiced openly. He counted it a day in his 
 life when he knew certainly that he had hit on an- 
 other scholar, and the whole school saw the iden- 
 tification of George Howe. For a winter Domsie 
 had been " at point," racing George through 
 Csesar, stalking him behind irregular verbs, baiting 
 traps with tit-bits of Vergil. During these exer- 
 
A LAD O' PAIRTS. 7 
 
 cises Domsie surveyed George from above his 
 spectacles with a hope that grew every day in as- 
 surance, and came to its height over a bit of Latin 
 prose. Domsie tasted it visibly, and read it again 
 in the shadow of the firs at meal-time, slapping his 
 leg twice. 
 
 " He'll dae ! he'll dae ! " cried Domsie aloud, 
 ladling in the snuff. "George, ma mannie, tell 
 yir father that I am comin' up to Whinnie Knowe 
 the nicht on a bit o' business." 
 
 Then the "schule " knew that Geordie Hoo was 
 marked for college, and pelted him with fir cones 
 in great gladness of heart. 
 
 " Whinnie " was full of curiosity over the 
 Dominie's visit, and vexed Marget sorely, to whom 
 Geordie had told wondrous things in the milk- 
 house. " It canna be coals 'at he's wantin' frae 
 the station, for there's a fell puckle left." 
 
 " And it'll no be seed taties," she said, pursuing the 
 principle of exhaustion, " for he hes some Perthshire 
 reds himsel'. I doot it's somethin' wrang with 
 Geordie," and Whinnie started on a new track. 
 
 " He's been playin' truant maybe. A' mind 
 gettin' ma paiks for birdnestin' masel. I'll wager 
 that's the verra thing." 
 
 " Weel, yir wrang, Weelum," broke in Marget, 
 Whinnie's wife, a tall, silent woman, with a speak- 
 ing face ;; " it's naither the ae thing nor the ither, 
 but something I've been prayin' for since Geordie 
 was a wee bairn. Clean yirsel' and meet Domsie 
 on the road, for nae man deserves more honour 
 in Drumtochty, naither laird nor farmer." 
 
8 DOMSIE. 
 
 Conversation with us was a leisurely game, 
 with slow movements and many pauses, and it 
 was our custom to handle all the pawns before 
 we brought the queen into action. 
 
 Domsie and Whinnie discussed the weather 
 with much detail before they came in sight of 
 George, but it was clear that Domsie was charged 
 with something weighty, and even Whinnie felt 
 that his own treatment of the turnip crop was 
 wanting in repose. 
 
 At last Domsie cleared his throat and looked 
 at Marget, who had been in and out, but ever 
 within hearing. 
 
 " George is a fine laddie, Mrs. Howe." 
 
 An ordinary Drumtochty mother, although 
 bursting with pride, would have responded, " He's 
 weel eneuch, if he hed grace in his heart," in 
 a tone that implied it was extremely unlikely, 
 and that her laddie led the reprobates of the 
 parish. As it was, Marget's face lightened, and 
 she waited. 
 
 " What do you think of making him.? " and the 
 Dominie dropped the words slowly, for this was a 
 moment in Drumtochty. 
 
 (There was just a single ambition in those humble 
 homes, to have one of its members at college, and 
 if Domsie approved a lad, then his brothers and 
 sisters would give their wages, and the family 
 would live on skim milk and oat cake, to let him 
 have his chance. 
 
 Whinnie glanced at his wife and turned to 
 Domsie. 
 
A LAD O' PAIXTS. 9 
 
 " Marget's set on seein' Geordie a minister, 
 Dominie." 
 
 " If he's worthy o't, no otherwise. We haena 
 the means, though ; the farm is highly rented, and 
 there's barely a penny over at the end o' the year." 
 
 " But you are willing George should go and see 
 what he can do. If he disappoint you, then I 
 dinna know a lad o' pairts when I see him, and the 
 Doctor is with me." 
 
 " Maister Jamieson," said Marget, with great 
 solemnity, " ma hert's desire is to see George a 
 minister, and if the Almichty spared me to hear 
 my only bairn open his mooth in the Evangel, I 
 wud hae naething mair to ask but I doot sair it 
 canna be managed." 
 
 Domsie had got all he asked, and he rose in his 
 strength. 
 
 " If George Howe disna get to college, then heis 
 the first scholar I've lost in Drumtochty ye 'ill 
 manage his keep and sic like ? " 
 
 " Nae fear o' that," for Whinnie was warming, 
 " tho' I haena a steek [stitch] o' new claithes for 
 four years. But what aboot his fees and ither 
 ootgaeins ? " 
 
 " There's ae man in the parish can pay George's 
 fees without missing a penny, and I'll warrant he 
 'ill dae it." 
 
 " Are ye meanin' Drurnsheugh ? " said Whinnie, 
 " for ye 'ill never get a penny piece oot o' him. Did 
 ye no hear hoo the Frees wiled him intae their 
 kirk, Sabbath past a week, when Netherton's 
 sister's son frae Edinboro' wes preaching the mis- 
 
10 DOMSIE. 
 
 sionary sermon, expectin' a note, and if he didna 
 change a shillin' at the public-hoose and pit in a 
 penny. Sail, he's a lad Drumsheugh ; a'm think- 
 ing ye may save yir journey, Dominie." 
 
 But Marget looked away from her into the past, 
 and her eyes had a tender light. " He hed the 
 best hert in the pairish aince." 
 
 Domsie found Drumsheugh inclined for com- 
 pany, and assisted at an exhaustive and caustic 
 treatment of local affairs. When the conduct 
 of Piggie Walker, who bought Drumsheugh's 
 potatoes and went into bankruptcy without paying 
 for a single tuber, had been characterised in lan- 
 guage that left nothing to be desired, Drumsheugh 
 began to soften and show signs of reciprocity. 
 
 " Hoo's yir laddies, Dominie?" whom the 
 farmers regarded as a risky turnip crop in a 
 stiff clay that Domsie had "to fecht awa in." 
 " Are ony o' them shaping weel ? " 
 
 Drumsheugh had given himself away, and 
 Domsie laid his first parallel with a glowing 
 account of George Howe's Latinity, which was 
 well received. 
 
 " Weel, I'm gled tae hear sic accoonts o' Marget 
 Hoo's son ; there's naething in Whinnie but what 
 the spune puts in." 
 
 But at the next move Drumsheugh scented 
 danger and stood at guard. " Na, na, Dominie, 
 I see what yir aifter fine ; ye mind hoo ye got 
 three notes oot o' me at Perth market Martinmas 
 a year past for ane o' yir college laddies. Five 
 punds for four years ; my word, yir no blate 
 
A LAD O' PAIRTS. 
 
 [modest]. And what for sud I educat Marget 
 Hoo's bairn ? If ye kent a* ye wudna ask me \ 
 it's no reasonable, Dominie. So there's an end 
 o't." 
 
 Domsie was only a pedantic old parish school- 
 master, and he knew little beyond his craft, but 
 the spirit of the Humanists awoke within him, and 
 he smote with all his might, bidding good-bye to 
 his English [as one flings away the scabbard of 
 a swordy 
 
 " Ye think that a'm asking a great thing when 
 I plead for a pickle notes to give a puir laddie 
 a college education. I tell ye, man, a'm honourin* 
 ye and givin' ye the fairest chance ye'll ever hae 
 o* winning wealth. Gin ye store the money ye 
 hae scrapit by mony a hard bargain, some heir 
 ye never saw 'ill gar it flee in chambering and 
 wantonness. Gin ye hed the heart to spend it 
 on a lad o' pairts like Geordie Hoo, ye wud hae 
 twa rewards nae man could tak fra ye. Ane wud 
 be the honest gratitude o' a laddie whose desire 
 for knowledge ye hed sateesfied, and the second 
 wud be this anither scholar in the land ; and a'm 
 thinking with auld John Knox that ilka scholar 
 is something added to the riches of the common- 
 wealth. And what 'ill it cost ye ? Little mair 
 than the price o' a cattle beast. Man, Drums- 
 heugh, ye poverty-stricken cratur, I've naethin' 
 in this world but a handfu' o' books and a ten- 
 pund note for my funeral, and yet, if it wasna 
 I have all my brither's bairns tae keep, I wud pay 
 every penny mysel' ! But I'll no see Geordie sent 
 
12 DOMSIE. 
 
 to the plough, tho' I gang frae door to door. Na, 
 na, the grass 'ill no grow on the road atween the 
 college and the schule-hoose o' Drumtochty till 
 they lay me in the auld kirkyard ! " 
 
 " Sail, Domsie was roosed," Drumsheugh 
 explained in the Muirtown inn next market. 
 " ' Miserly wratch ' was the ceevilest word on his 
 tongue. He wud naither sit nor taste, and was 
 half-way doon the yaird afore I cud quiet him. 
 An* a'm no sayin' he hed na reason if I'd been 
 meanin' a* I said. It wud be a scan'al to the 
 pairish if a likely lad cudna win tae college for the 
 want o' siller. Na, na, neeburs, we hae oor faults, 
 but we're no sae dune mean as that in Drum- 
 tochty." 
 
 As it was, when Domsie did depart, he could 
 only grip Drumsheugh's hand, and say Maecenas, 
 and was so intoxicated, but not with strong drink, 
 that he explained to Hillocks on the way home that 
 Drumsheugh would be a credit to Drumtochty, 
 and that his Latin style reminded him of Cicero. 
 He added as an after-thought that Whinnie Knowe 
 had promised to pay Drumsheugh's fees for four 
 years at the University of Edinburgh. 
 
II. 
 
 HOW WE CARRIED THE NEWS TO WHINNIE 
 KNOWE. 
 
 DOMSIE was an artist, and prepared the way for 
 George's University achievement with much cun- 
 ning. Once every Sabbath in the kirk-yard, where 
 he laid down the law beneath an old elm tree, and 
 twice between Sabbaths, at the post-office and by 
 . the wayside, he adjured us not to expect beyond 
 measure, and gave us reasons. 
 
 " Ye see, he has a natural talent for learning, and 
 took to Latin like a duck to water. What could 
 be done in Drumtochty was done for him, and he's 
 working night and day, but he'll have a sore fight 
 with the lads from the town schools. Na, na, 
 neighbours," said the Dominie, lapsing into dialect, 
 " we daurna luik for a prize. No the first year, at 
 ony rate." 
 
 " Man, Dominie. A'm clean astonished at ye," 
 Drumsheugh used to break in, who, since he had 
 given to George' s support, outran us all in his 
 faith, and had no patience with Domsie's devices ; 
 " a f tell ye if Geoix Jisna get a first in every class 
 he's entered for, the judges 'ill be a puir lot," with 
 a fine confusion of circumstances. 
 13 
 
14 DO MSI E. 
 
 " Losh, Drumsheugh, be quiet, or ye'll clae the 
 laddie an injury," said Domsie, with genuine alarm. 
 " We maunna mention prizes, and first is fair 
 madness. A certificate of honour now, that will 
 be aboot it, may be next to the prizemen." 
 
 Coming home from market he might open his 
 heart. " George 'ill be amang the first sax, or my 
 name is no Jamieson," but generally he prophesied 
 a moderate success. There were times when he 
 affected indifference, and talked cattle. We then 
 regarded him with awe, because this was more 
 than mortal. 
 
 It was my luck to carry the bulletin to Domsie, 
 and I learned what he had been enduring. It was 
 good manners in Drumtochty to feign amazement 
 at the sight of a letter, and to insist that it, 
 must be intended for some other person. When it 
 was finally forced upon one, you examined the 
 handwriting at various angles and speculated about 
 the writer. Some felt emboldened, after these 
 precautions, to open the letter, but this haste was 
 considered indecent. When Posty handed Drum- 
 sheugh the factor's letter, with the answer to his 
 offer for the farm, he only remarked, " It '11 be frae 
 the factor," and harked back to a polled Angus 
 bull he had seen at the show. " Sail," said Posty 
 in the kirkyard with keen relish, "ye'll never flurry 
 Drumsheugh." Ordinary letters were read in leis- 
 urely retirement, and, in case of urgency, answered 
 within the week. 
 
 Domsie clutched the letter, and would have 
 torn off the envelope. But he could not ; his 
 
HOW WE CARRIED THE NEWS. 1 5 
 
 hand was shaking like an aspen. He could only 
 look, and I read : 
 
 " DEAR MR. JAMIESON : 
 
 " The class honour lists are just out, and you will 
 be pleased to know that I have got the medal both 
 in the Humanity and the Greek." 
 
 There was something about telling his mother, 
 and his gratitude to his schoolmaster, but Domsie 
 heard no more. He tried to speak and could not, 
 for a rain of tears was on his hard old face, 
 Domsie was far more a pagan than a saint, but 
 somehow he seemed to me that day as Simeon, who- 
 had at last seen his heart's desire, and was satisfied. 
 When the school had dispersed with a joyful 
 shout, and disappeared in the pine woods, he said, 
 " Ye'll come too," and I knew he was going to- 
 Whinnie Knowe. He did not speak one word 
 upon the way, but twice he stood and read the 
 letter, which he held fast in his hand. His face 
 was set as he climbed the cart track. I saw it 
 set again as we came down that road one day, but 
 it was well that we could not pierce beyond the 
 present. 
 
 Whinnie left his plough in the furrow, and came 
 to meet us, taking two drills at a stride, and shout- 
 ing remarks on the weather yards off. 
 
 Domsie only lifted the letter. " Frae George." 
 " Ay, ay, and what's he gotten noo? " 
 Domsie solemnly unfolded the letter, and 
 brought down his spectacles. " Edinburgh, 
 
1 6 DOMSIE. 
 
 April 7th." Then he looked at Whinnie and 
 closed his mouth. 
 
 " We'll tell it first to his mither." 
 
 "Yer richt, Dominie. She weel deserves it. 
 A'm thinking she's seen us by this time." So 
 we fell into a procession, Dominie leading by 
 two yards ; and then a strange thing happened. 
 For the first and last time in his life Domsie 
 whistled, and the tune was "A hundred pipers 
 and a' and a," and as he whistled he seemed to 
 dilate before our eyes, and he struck down thistles 
 with his stick a thistle at every stroke. 
 
 " Domsie's fair carried," whispered Whinnie, 
 " it cowes a'." 
 
 Marget met us at the end of the house be- 
 side the brier bush, where George was to sit on 
 summer afternoons before he died, and a flash 
 passed between Domsie and the lad's mother. 
 Then she knew that it was well, and fixed her 
 eyes on the letter, but Whinnie, his thumbs in 
 his armholes, watched the wife. 
 
 Domsie now essayed to read the news, but 
 between the shaking of his hands and his voice 
 he could not. 
 
 " It's nae use," he cried, " he's first in the 
 Humanity oot o' a hundred and seeventy lads, 
 first o' them a', and he's first in the Greek too ; 
 the like o' this is hardly known, and it hasna been 
 seen in Drumtochty since there was a schule. 
 That's the word he's sent, and he bade me tell his 
 mother without delay, and I am here as fast as my 
 old feet could carry me." 
 
HOW WE CARRIED THE NEWS. IT 
 
 I glanced round, although I did not myself see 
 very clearly. 
 
 Marget was silent for the space of five seconds ; 
 she was a good woman, and I knew that better 
 afterwards. She took the Dominie's hand, and 
 said to him, " Under God this was your doing, 
 Maister Jamieson, and for your reward ye'ill get 
 naither silver nor gold, but ye hae a mither's 
 gratitude." 
 
 Whinnie gave a hoarse chuckle and said to his 
 wife, " It was frae you, Marget, he got it a'." 
 
 When we settled in the parlour Domsie's tongue 
 was loosed, and he lifted up his voice and sang the 
 victory of Geordie Hoo. 
 
 " It's ten years ago at the brak up o' the winter 
 ye brought him down to me, Mrs. Hoo, and ye 
 said at the schule-hoose door, ' Dinna be hard on 
 him, Maister Jamieson, he's my only bairn, and 
 a wee thingie quiet/ Div ye mind what I said, 
 ' There's something ahint that face/ and my heart 
 warmed to George that hour. Two years after 
 the Doctor examined the schule, and he looks at 
 George, ' That's a likely lad, Dominie. What 
 think ye?' And he was only eight years auld, 
 and no big for his size. ' Doctor, I daurna proph- 
 esy till we turn him into the Latin, but a've my 
 thoughts/ So I had a' the time, but I never 
 boasted ; na, na, that's dangerous. Didna I say, 
 ' Ye hev a promisin' laddie, Whinnie/ ae day in the 
 market ? " 
 
 " It's a fac'," said Whinnie, " it wes the day I 
 bocht the white coo/' But Domsie swept on. 
 
*8 DOMSIE. 
 
 " The first year o' Latin was enough for me. 
 He juist nippet up his verbs. Caesar couldna 
 keep him going ; he wes into Vergil afore he wes 
 eleven, and the Latin prose, man, as sure as a'm 
 living, it tasted o' Cicero frae the beginning." 
 
 Whinnie wagged his head in amazement. 
 
 " It was the verra nicht o' the Latin prose I cam 
 up to speak aboot the college, and ye thocht Geor- 
 die hed been playing truant." 
 
 Whinnie laughed uproariously, but Domsie 
 heeded not. 
 
 " It was awfu' work the next twa years, but the 
 Doctor stood in wee! wi' the Greek. Ye mind hoo 
 Geordie tramped ower the muir to the manse 
 thro' the weet an' the snaw, and there wes aye dry 
 stockings for him in the kitchen afore he had his 
 Greek in the Doctor's study." 
 
 " And a warm drink tae," put in Margaret, 
 "and that's the window I pit the licht in to guide 
 him hame in the dark winter nichts, and mony a 
 time when the sleet played swish on the glass I 
 wes near wishin' " Domsie waved his hand. 
 
 "But that's dune wi' noo, and he was worth a' 
 the toil and trouble. First in the Humanity, and 
 first in the Greek, sweepit the field, Lord preserve 
 us ! A' can hardly believe it. Eh, I was feared o' 
 thae High School lads. They had terrible advan- 
 tages. Maisters frae England, and tutors, and 
 whatna', but Drumtochty carried aff the croon. 
 It '11 be fine reading in the papers : 
 
 "' Humanity. First Prize (and Medal), George 
 Howe. Drumtochty, Perthshire. 
 
HOW WE CARRIED THE NEWS. 1 9 
 
 " ' Greek. First Prize (and Medal), George 
 Howe, Drumtochty, Perthshire/ " 
 
 " It'll be michty," cried Whinnie, now fairly on 
 fire. 
 
 " And Philosophy and Mathematics to come. 
 Geordie's no bad at Euclid. I'll wager he'll be 
 first there too. When he gets his hand in there's 
 naething he's no fit for wi' time. My ain laddie 
 and the Doctor's we maunna forget him it's his 
 classics he hes, every book o' them. The Doctor 
 '11 be lifted when he comes back on Saturday. A'm 
 thinkin' we'll hear o't on Sabbath. And Drum- 
 sheugh, he'll be naither to had nor bind in the 
 kirk-yard. As for me, I wadna change places wi' 
 the Duke o' Athole," and Domsie shook the table 
 to its foundation. 
 
 Then he awoke, as from a dream, and the shame 
 of boasting that shuts the mouths of self-respecting 
 Scots descended upon him. 
 
 " But this is fair nonsense. Ye'll no mind the 
 havers o' an auld dominie." 
 
 He fell back on a recent roup, and would not 
 again break away, although sorely tempted by cer- 
 tain of Whinnie's speculations. 
 
 When I saw him last, his coat-tails were waving 
 victoriously as he leaped a dyke on his way to tell 
 our Drumtochty Maecenas that the judges knew 
 their business. 
 
III. 
 
 IN MARGET'S GARDEN. 
 
 THE cart track to Whinnie Knowe was com- 
 manded by a gable window, and Whinnie boasted 
 that Marget had never been taken unawares. 
 Tramps finding every door locked, and no sign of 
 life anywhere, used to express their mind in the 
 " close," and return by the way they came, while 
 ladies from Kildrummie, fearful lest they should 
 put Mrs. Howe out, were met at the garden gate 
 by Marget in her Sabbath dress, and brought into 
 a set tea as if they had been invited weeks before. 
 
 Whinnie gloried most in the discomfiture of the 
 Tory agent, who had vainly hoped to coerce him 
 in the stack-yard without Marget's presence, as 
 her intellectual contempt for the Conservative 
 party knew no bounds. 
 
 "Sail she saw him slip aff the road afore the 
 last stile, and wheep roond the fit o' the gairden 
 wa' like a tod [fox] aifter the chickens. 
 
 "'It's a het day, Maister Anderson/ says Mar- 
 get frae the gairden, lookin' doon on him as calm 
 as ye like. ' Yir surely no gaein' to pass oor hoose 
 without a gless o' milk? ' 
 
 " Wud ye believe it, he wes that upset he left 
 
IN MARGET'S GARDEN. 21 
 
 withoot sayin' ' vote/ and Drumsheugh telt me 
 next market that his langidge aifterwards cudna 
 be printed." 
 
 When George came home for the last time, 
 Marget went back and forward all afternoon from 
 his bedroom to the window, and hid herself be- 
 neath the laburnum to see his face as the cart 
 stood before the stile. It told her plain what she 
 had feared, and Marget passed through her Geth- 
 semane with the gold blossoms falling on her face. 
 When their eyes met, and before she helped him 
 down, mother and son understood. 
 
 " Ye mind what I told ye, o' the Greek mothers, 
 the day I left. Weel, I wud hae liked to have car- 
 ried my shield, but it wasna to be, so I've come 
 home on it." As they went slowly up the garden 
 walk, "I've got my degree, a double first, mathe- 
 matics and classics." 
 
 "Ye've been a gude soldier, George, and 
 faithfu'." 
 
 44 Unto death, a'm clootin', mother." 
 
 " Na," said Marget, " unto life." 
 
 Drumtochty was not a heartening place in sick- 
 ness, and Marget, who did not think our thoughts, 
 endured much consolation at her neighbour's 
 hands. It is said that in cities visitors congratu- 
 late a patient on his good looks, and deluge his 
 family with instances of recovery. This would 
 have seemed to us shallow and unfeeling, besides 
 being a " temptin' o' Providence," which might riot 
 have intended to go to extremities, but on a 
 challenge of this kind had no alternative. Sickness 
 
22 DOMSIE. 
 
 was regarded as a distinction tempered with judg- 
 ment, and favoured people found it difficult to be 
 humble. I always thought more of Peter Mac- 
 intosh, when the mysterious" tribble " that needed 
 the Perth doctor made no difference in his manner, 
 and he passed his snuff box across the seat before 
 the long prayer as usual, but in this indifference to 
 privileges Peter was exceptional. 
 
 You could never meet Kirsty Stewart on equal 
 terms, although she was quite affable to any one 
 who knew his place. 
 
 " Ay," she said, on my respectful allusion to her 
 experience, " a've seen mair than most. It doesna 
 become me to boast, but tho' I say it as sudna, I 
 hae buried a' my ain fouk." 
 
 Kirsty had a " way " in sick visiting, consisting 
 in a certain cadence of the voice and arrangement 
 of the face, which was felt to be soothing and 
 complimentary. 
 
 " Yir aboot again, a'm glad to see/' to me after 
 my accident, " but yir no dune wi' that leg ; na, na, 
 Jeems that was ma second son scrapit his shin 
 aince, tho' no so bad as ye've dune, a'm hearing 
 [for I had denied Kirsty the courtesy of an inspec- 
 tion]. It's sax year syne noo, and he got up and 
 wes traivellin' fell hearty like yersel'. But he be- 
 good to dwam [sicken] in the end of the year, and 
 soughed awa' in the spring. Ay, ay, when tribble 
 comes ye never ken hoo it 'ill end. A* thocht I 
 wud come up and speir for ye. A body needs 
 comfort gin he's sober [ill]." 
 
 When I found George wrapped in his plaid 
 
IN MA RGB T'S GA RDEN. 23 
 
 beside the brier bush, whose roses were no whiter 
 than his cheeks, Kirsty was already installed as 
 comforter in the parlour, and her drone came 
 through the open window. 
 
 " Ay, ay, Marget, sae it's come to this. Weel, 
 we daurna complain, ye ken. Be thankfu* ye 
 haena lost your man and five sons, besides twa 
 sisters and a brither, no to mention cousins. That 
 wud be something to speak aboot, and Losh keep's, 
 there's nae saying but he micht hang on a whilie. 
 Ay, ay, it's a sair blow aifter a f that wes in the 
 papers. I wes feared when I heard o' the papers ; 
 ' Lat weel alane,' says I to the Dominie ; ' ye 'ill 
 bring a judgment on the laddie wi' yir blawing.' 
 But ye micht as weel hae spoken to the hills. 
 Domsie's a thrann body at the best, and he was 
 clean infatuat' wi' George. Ay, ay, it's an awfu* 
 lesson, Marget, no to mak' idols o' our bairns, for 
 that's naethin' else than provokin' the Almichty." 
 
 It was at this point that Marget gave way and 
 scandalised Drumtochty, which held that obtrusive 
 prosperity was an irresistible provocation to the 
 higher powers, and that a skilful deprecation of 
 our children was a policy of safety. 
 
 " Did ye say the Almichty ? I'm thinkin' that's 
 ower grand a name for your God, Kirsty. What 
 wud ye think o' a faither that brocht hame some 
 bonnie thing frae the fair for ane o' his bairns, and 
 when the puir bairn wes pleased wi' it, tore it oot 
 o' his hand and flung it into the fire ? Eh, woman, 
 he wud be a meeserable, cankered, jealous body. 
 Kirsty, wumman, when the Almichty sees a mither 
 
24 DOMSIE. 
 
 bound up in her laddie, I tell ye He is sair pleased 
 in His heaven, for mind ye hoo He loved His ain 
 Son. Besides, a'm judgin' that nane o' us can 
 love anither withoot lovin' Him, or hurt anither 
 withoot hurtin' Him. 
 
 " Oh, I ken weel that George is gaein' to leave us ; 
 but it's no because the Almichty is jealous o' him 
 or me, no likely. It cam' to me last nicht that He 
 needs my laddie for some grand wark in the ither 
 world, and that's hoo George has his bukes brocht 
 oot tae the garden and studies a* the day. He 
 wants to be ready for his kingdom, just as he 
 trachled in the bit schule o' Drumtochty for Edin- 
 boro'. I hoped he would hae been a minister o' 
 Christ's Gospel here, but he 'ill be judge over many 
 cities yonder. A'm no denyin', Kirsty, that it's a 
 trial, but I hae licht on it, and naethin' but gude 
 thochts o' the Almichty." 
 
 Drumtochty understood that Kirsty had dealt 
 faithfully with Marget for pride and presumption, 
 but all we heard was, " Losh keep us a'." 
 
 When Marget came out and sat down beside 
 her son, her face was shining. Then she saw the 
 open window. 
 
 " I didna ken." 
 
 "Never mind, mither, there's nae secrets atween 
 us, and it gar'd my heart leap to hear ye speak up 
 like yon for God, and to know yir content. Div ye 
 mind the nicht I called for ye, mother, and ye gave 
 me the Gospel aboot God ? " 
 
 Marget slipped her hand into George's, and he 
 let his head rest on her shoulder. The likeness 
 
IN MARGET^S GARDEN. 25 
 
 flashed upon me in that moment, the earnest deep- 
 set gray eyes, the clean-cut firm jaw, and the tender 
 mobile lips, that blend of apparent austerity and 
 underlying romance that make the pathos of a 
 Scottish face. 
 
 " There had been a Revival man here," George 
 explained to me, " and he was preaching on hell. 
 As it grew dark a candle was lighted, and I can 
 still see his face as in a picture, a hard-visaged 
 man. He looked down at us laddies in the front, 
 and asked us if we knew what like hell was. By 
 this time we were that terrified none of us could 
 speak, but I whispered ' No. f 
 
 " Then he rolled up a piece of paper and held it 
 in the flame, and we saw it burn and glow and 
 shrivel up and fall in black dust. 
 
 " * Think/ said he, and he leaned over the desk, 
 and spoke in a gruesome whisper which made the 
 cold run down our backs, ' that yon paper was 
 your finger, one finger only of your hand, and it 
 burned like that for ever and ever, and think of 
 your hand and your arm and your whole body all 
 on fire, never to go out.' We shuddered that you 
 might have heard the form creak. * That is hell, 
 and that is where ony laddie will go who does not 
 repent and believe/ 
 
 " It was like Dante's Inferno, and I dared not 
 take my eyes off his face. He blew out the candle, 
 and we crept to the door trembling, not able to 
 say one word. 
 
 " That night I could not sleep, for I thought I 
 might be in the fire before morning, It was harvest 
 
26 DOMS1E. 
 
 time, and the moon was filling the room with cold, 
 clear light. From my bed I could see the stocks 
 standing in rows upon the field, and it seemed like 
 the judgment day. 
 
 " I was only a wee laddie, and I did what we all 
 do in trouble, I cried for my mother. 
 
 " Ye hae na forgotten, mither, the fricht that was 
 on me that nicht." 
 
 " Never," said Marget, " and never can ; it's 
 hard wark for me to keep frae hating that man, 
 dead or alive. Geordie gripped me wi' baith his 
 wee airms round my neck, and he cries over and 
 over and over again, ' Is yon God ? ' " 
 
 " Ay, and ye kissed me, mither, and ye said (it's 
 like yesterday), ' Yir safe with me/ and ye telt me 
 that God micht punish me to mak me better if I 
 was bad, but that he wud never torture ony puir 
 soul, for that cud dae nae guid, and was the Devil's 
 wark. Ye asked me : 
 
 " ' Am I a guid mother tae ye ? ' and when I 
 could dae naethin' but hold, ye said, ' Be sure God 
 maun be a hantle kinder/ 
 
 " The truth came to me as with a flicker, and I 
 cuddled down into my bed, and fell asleep in His 
 love as in my mother's arms. 
 
 " Mither/* and George lifted up his head, " that 
 was my conversion, and, mither dear, I hae longed 
 a* thro' thae college studies for the day when ma 
 mooth wud be opened wi' this evangel." 
 
 Marget's was an old-fashioned garden, with 
 pinks and daisies and forget-me-nots, with sweet- 
 scented wall-flower and thyme and moss roses, 
 
IN MARGETS GARDEN. 27 
 
 where nature had her way, and gracious thoughts 
 could visit one without any jarring note. As 
 George's voice softened to the close, I caught her 
 saying, " His servants shall see His face," and the 
 peace of Paradise fell upon us in the shadow of 
 death. 
 
 The night before the end George was carried out 
 to his corner, and Domsie, whose heart was nigh 
 unto the breaking, sat with him the afternoon. They 
 used to fight the College battles over again, with 
 their favourite classics beside them, but this time 
 none of them spoke of books. Margaret was 
 moving about the garden, and she told me that 
 George looked at Domsie wistfully, as if he had 
 something to say and knew not how to do it. 
 
 After a while he took a book from below his 
 pillow, and began, like one thinking over his 
 words : 
 
 " Maister Jamieson, ye hae been a guid freena 
 tae me, the best I ever hed aifter my mither and 
 faither. Wull ye tak' this buik for a keepsake o f 
 yir grateful scholar ? It's a Latin ' Imitation,' 
 Dominie, and it's bonnie printin'. Ye mind hoo 
 ye gave me yir ain Vergil, and said he was a kind 
 o' Pagan sanct. Noo, here is my sanct, and div ye 
 ken I've often thocht Vergil saw His day afar off, 
 and was glad. Wull ye read it, Dominie, for my 
 
 sake, and maybe ye 'ill come to see " and 
 
 George could not find words for more. 
 
 But Domsie understood. " Ma laddie, ma 
 laddie, that I luve better than onythin' on earth, 
 I'll read it till I die, and, George, I'll tell ye what 
 
<8 DOMSIE. 
 
 livin' man doesna ken. When I was your verra 
 age I had a cruel trial, and ma heart was turned 
 frae faith. The classics hae been my Bible, though 
 I said naethin' to ony man against Christ. He 
 aye seemed beyond man, and noo the veesion o' 
 Him has come to me in this gairden. Laddie, ye 
 hae dune far mair for me than I ever did for you. 
 Wull ye mak' a prayer for yir auld dominie afore 
 we pairt ? " 
 
 There was a thrush singing in the birches and 
 a sound of bees in the air, when George prayed in 
 a low, soft voice, with a little break in it : 
 
 " Lord Jesus, remember my dear maister, for 
 he's been a kind freend to me and mony a puir 
 laddie in Drumtochty. Bind up his sair heart and 
 give him licht at eventide,* and may the maister 
 and his scholars meet some mornin* where the 
 schule never skails, in the kingdom o* oor Father." 
 
 Twice Domsie said Amen, and it seemed as the 
 voice of another man, and then he kissed George 
 upon the forehead ; but what they said Marget did 
 not wish to hear. 
 
 When he passed out at the garden gate, the 
 Westering sun was shining golden, and the face of 
 Domsie was like unto that of a little child. 
 
IV. 
 
 A SCHOLAR'S FUNERAL. 
 
 DRUMTOCHTY never acquitted itself with credit 
 at a marriage, having no natural aptitude for 
 gaiety, and being haunted with anxiety lest any 
 " hicht " should end in a " howe," but the parish 
 had a genius for funerals. It was long mentioned 
 with a just sense of merit that an English under- 
 taker, chancing on a " beerial " with us, had no 
 limits to his admiration. He had been disheart- 
 ened to despair all his life by the ghastly efforts of 
 chirpy little Southerners to look solemn on occa- 
 sion, but his dreams were satisfied at the sight of 
 men like Drumsheugh and Hillocks in their Sab- 
 bath blacks. Nature lent an initial advantage in 
 face, but it was an instinct in the blood that 
 brought our manner to perfection, and nothing 
 could be more awful than a group of those austere 
 figures, each man gazing into vacancy without a 
 trace of expression, and refusing to recognise his 
 nearest neighbour by word or look. Drumtochty 
 gave itself to a " beerial " with chastened satisfac- 
 tion, partly because it lay near to the sorrow of 
 things, and partly because there was nothing of 
 speculation in it. " Ye can hae little rael pleesure 
 
30 DOMSIE. 
 
 in a merrige," explained our gravedigger, in whom 
 the serious side had been perhaps abnormally de- 
 veloped, " for ye never ken hoo it will end ; but 
 there's nae risk about a ' beerial.' " 
 
 It came with a shock upon townsmen that the 
 ceremony began with a " service o' speerits," and 
 that an attempt of the Free Kirk minister to 
 replace this by the reading of Scripture was re- 
 sisted as an "innovation." Yet everyone ad- 
 mitted that the seriousness of Drumtochty per- 
 vaded and sanctified this function. A tray of 
 glasses was placed on a table with great solemnity 
 by the " wricht," who made no sign and invited 
 none. You might have supposed that the circum- 
 stance had escaped the notice of the company, so 
 abstracted and unconscious was their manner, had 
 it not been that two graven images a minute later 
 are standing at the table. 
 
 "Ye 'ill taste, Tammas," with settled melan- 
 choly. 
 
 " Na, na ; I've nae incleenation the day ; it's an 
 awfu* dispensation, this, Jeems. She wud be 
 barely saxty." 
 
 " Ay, ay, but we maun keep up the body sae 
 lang as we're here, Tammas." 
 
 " Weel, puttin' it that way, a'm not sayin* but 
 yir richt," yielding unwillingly to the force of 
 circumstance. 
 
 " We're here the day and there the morn, 
 Tammas. She wes a fine wumman Mistress 
 Stirton a weel-livin' wumman : this 'ill be a 
 blend, a'm thinkinV 
 
A SCHOLAR'S FUNERAL. 3 1 
 
 " She slippit aff sudden in the end ; a'm judgin' 
 it's frae the Muirtown grocer ; but a body canna 
 discreeminate on a day like this." 
 
 Before the glasses are empty all idea of drinking 
 is dissipated, and one has a vague impression that 
 he is at church. 
 
 It was George Howe's funeral that broke thtf 
 custom and closed the " service." When I came 
 into the garden where the neighbours were 
 gathered, the " wricht " was removing his tray, 
 and not a glass had been touched. Then I knew 
 that Drumtochty had a sense of the fitness of 
 things, and was stirred to its depths. 
 
 " Ye saw the wricht carry in his tray," said 
 Drumsheugh, as we went home from the kirkyard. 
 " Weel, yon's the last sicht o't ye'ill get, or a'm 
 no Drumsheugh. I've nae objection masel' to a 
 neebur tastin' at a funeral, a' the mair if he's come 
 frae the upper end o' the pairish, and ye ken I 
 dinna hold wi' thae teetotal fouk. A'm ower auld 
 in the horn to change noo. But there's times and 
 seasons, as the Gude Buik says, and it wud hae 
 been an awfu' like business tae luik at a gless in 
 Marget's gairden, and puir Domsie standing in 
 ahent the brier bush as if he cud never lift his heid 
 again. Ye may get shairper fouk in*the uptak', 
 but ye'ill no get a pairish with better feelin's. It 
 'ill be a kind o' sateesfaction tae Marget when she 
 hears o't. She was aye against tastin', and a'm 
 judgin' her tribble has ended it at beerials." 
 
 " Man, it was hard on some o' yon lads the day, 
 but there wesna ane o' them made a mudge. I 
 
3 2 DOMSIE. 
 
 keepit my eye on Posty, but he never lookit the way 
 it wes. He's a drouthy body, but he hes his feel- 
 in's, hes Posty." 
 
 Before the Doctor began the prayer, Whinnie 
 took me up to the room. 
 
 " There's twa o' Geordie's College freends with 
 Marget, grand scholars a'm telt, and there's 
 anither I canna weel mak' oot. He's terrible cast 
 doon, and Marget speaks as if she kent him." 
 
 It was a low-roofed room, with a box bed and 
 some pieces of humble furniture, fit only for a 
 labouring man. But the choice treasures of 
 Greece and Rome lay on the table, and on a shelf 
 beside the bed College prizes and medals, while 
 everywhere were the roses he loved. His peasant 
 mother stood beside the body of her scholar son, 
 whose hopes and thoughts she had shared, and 
 through the window came the bleating of distant 
 sheep. It was the idyl of Scottish University life. 
 
 George's friends were characteristic men, each 
 of his own type, and could only have met in the 
 commonwealth of letters. One was of an ancient 
 Scottish house which had fought for Mary against 
 the Lords of the Congregation, followed Prince 
 Charlie to Culloden, and were High Church and 
 Tory to trie last drop of their blood. Ludovic 
 Gordon left Harrow with the reputation of a 
 classic, and had expected to be first at Edinboro*. 
 It was Gordon, in fact, that Domsie feared in the 
 great war, but he proved second to Marget's son, 
 and being of the breed of Prince Jonathan, which 
 is the same the world over, he came to love our 
 
A SCHOLAR'S FUNERAL. 33 
 
 David as his own soul. The other, a dark little 
 man, with a quick, fiery eye, was a western Celt, 
 who had worried his way from a fishing croft in 
 Barra to be an easy first in philosophy at Edin- 
 boro', and George and Ronald Maclean were as 
 brothers, because there is nothing so different as 
 Scottish and Highland blood. 
 
 "Maister Gordon," said Marget, " this is 
 George's Homer, and he bade me tell you that 
 he coonted yir freendship ain o' the gifts o' God." 
 
 For a brief space Gordon was silent, and, when 
 he spoke, his voice sounded strange in that room. 
 
 " Your son was the finest scholar of my time, 
 and a very perfect gentleman. He was also my 
 true friend, and I pray God to console his mother." 
 And Ludovic Gordon bowed low over Marget's 
 worn hand as if she had been a queen. 
 
 Marget lifted Plato, and it seemed to me that 
 day as if the dignity of our Lady of Sorrows had 
 fallen upon her. 
 
 " This is the buik George chose for you, Maister 
 Maclean, for he aye said to me ye hed been a 
 prophet and shown him mony deep things." 
 
 The tears sprang to the Celt's eyes. 
 
 " It wass like him to make all other men better 
 than himself," with the soft, sad Highland accent ; 
 " and a proud woman you are to hef been his 
 mother." 
 
 The third man waited at the window till the 
 scholars left, and then I saw he was none of that 
 kind, but one "who had been a slave of sin and now 
 was free. 
 
34 DOMSIE. 
 
 " Andra Chaumers, George wished ye tae hev 
 his Bible, and he expecks ye tae keep the tryst." 
 
 " God helping me, I will," said Chalmers, 
 hoarsely ; and from the garden ascended a voice, 
 * O God, who art a very present help in trouble." 
 
 The Doctor's funeral prayer was one of the 
 glories of the parish, compelling even the Free 
 Kirk to reluctant admiration, although they hinted 
 that its excellence was rather of the letter than the 
 spirit, and regarded its indiscriminate charity with 
 suspicion. It opened with a series of extracts from 
 the Psalms, relieved by two excursions into the 
 minor prophets, and led up to a sonorous recita- 
 tion of the problem of immortality from Job, with 
 its triumphant solution in the peroration of the 
 fifteenth chapter of ist Corinthians. Drumtochty 
 men held their breath till the Doctor reached the 
 crest of the hill (Hillocks disgraced himself once 
 by dropping his staff at the very moment when the 
 Doctor was passing from Job to Paul), and then 
 we relaxed while the Doctor descended to local de- 
 tail. It was understood that it took twenty years 
 to bring the body of this prayer to perfection, and 
 any change would have been detected and re- 
 sented. 
 
 The Doctor made a good start, and had already 
 sighted Job, when he was carried out of his course 
 by a sudden current, and began to speak to God 
 about Marget and her son, after a very simple 
 fashion that brought a lump to the throat, till at 
 last, as I imagine, the sight of the laddie working 
 at his Greek in the study of a winter night came 
 
A SCHOLAR'S FUNERAL. 35 
 
 up before him, and the remnants of the great 
 prayer melted like an iceberg in the Gulf Stream. 
 
 " Lord, hae peety upon us, for we a' luved him, 
 and we were a' prood o' him." 
 
 After the Doctor said " Amen " with majesty, one 
 used to look at his neighbour, and the other would 
 shut his eyes and shake his head, meaning 
 " There's no use asking me, for it simply can't be 
 better done by living man." This time no one re- 
 membered his neighbour, because every eye was 
 fixed on the Doctor. Drumtochty was identifying 
 its new minister. 
 
 " It may be that I hef judged, him hardly," said 
 Lachlan Campbell, one of the Free Kirk High- 
 landers, and our St. Dominic. " I shall never 
 again deny that the root of the matter is in 
 the man, although much choked with the tares of 
 worldliness and Arminianism." 
 
 " He is a goot man, Lachlan," replied Donald 
 Menzies, another Celt, and he was our St. Francis, 
 " for every one that loveth is born of God." 
 
 There was no hearse in Drumtochty, and we 
 carried our dead by relays of four, who waded 
 every stream unless more than knee deep, the rest 
 following in straggling, picturesque procession 
 over the moor and across the stepping stones. 
 Before we started, Marget came out and arranged 
 George's white silken hood upon the coffin with 
 roses in its folds. 
 
 She swept us into one brief flush of gratitude, 
 from Domsie to Posty. 
 
 " Neeburs, ye were a' his freends, and he wanted 
 
36 DOMSIE. 
 
 ye tae ken hoo yir trust wes mickle help tae him 
 in his battle." 
 
 There was a stir within us, and k came to birth 
 in Drumsheugh of all men. 
 
 " Marget Hoo, this is no the day for mony words, 
 but there's juist ae heart in Drumtochty, and it's sair." 
 
 No one spoke to Domsle as we went down the 
 cart track, with the ripe corn standing on either 
 side, but he beckoned Chalmers to walk with him. 
 
 " Ye hae heard him speak o' me, then, Maister 
 Jamieson ? " 
 
 " Ay, oftentimes, and he said once that ye were 
 hard driven, but that ye had trampled Satan under 
 yir feet." 
 
 " He didna tell ye all, for if it hadna been for 
 George Howe I wudna been worth callin' a man 
 this day. One night when he was workin' hard 
 for his honours examination, and his disease was 
 heavy upon him, puir fellow, he sought me oot 
 where I was, and wouldna leave till I cam' wi' him. 
 
 " ' Go home,' I said, ' Howe ; it's death for ye to 
 be oot in this sleet and cold. Why not leave me 
 to lie in the bed I hae made ? " 
 
 " He took me by the arm into a passage. I see 
 the gaslicht on his white face, and the shining o' 
 his eyes. 
 
 " ' Because I have a mother ' 
 
 " Dominie, he pulled me oot o' hell." 
 
 " Me tae, Andra, but no your hell. Ye mind 
 the Roman Triumph, when a general cam' hame 
 wi' his spoils. Laddie, we're the captives that go 
 with his chariot up the Capitol." 
 
A SCHOLAR'S FUNERAL. 37 
 
 Donald Menzies was a man of moods, and the 
 Doctor's prayer had loosed his imagination so that 
 he saw visions. 
 
 " Look," said he, as we stood on a ridge, " I hef 
 seen it before in the book of Joshua." 
 
 Below the bearers had crossed a burn on foot, 
 and were ascending the slope where an open space 
 of deep green was fringed with purple heather. 
 
 " The ark hass gone over Jordan, and George 
 will have come into the Land of Promise." 
 
 The September sunshine glinted on the white 
 silk George won with his blood, and fell like a ben- 
 ediction on the two figures that climbed the hard 
 ascent close after the man they loved. 
 
 Strangers do not touch our dead in Drumtochty, 
 but the eight of nearest blood lower the body 
 into the grave. The order of precedence is keenly 
 calculated, and the loss of a merited cord can 
 never be forgiven. Marget had arranged every- 
 thing with Whinnie, and all saw the fitness. His 
 father took the head, and the feet (next in honour) 
 he gave to Domsie. 
 
 " Ye maun dae it. Marget said ye were o' his 
 am bluid." 
 
 On the right side the cords were handed to the 
 Doctor, Gordon, and myself; and on the left to 
 Drumsheugh, Maclean, and Chalmers. Domsie 
 lifted the hood for Marget, but the roses he gently 
 placed on George's name. Then with bent, un- 
 covered heads, and in unbroken silence, we buried 
 all that remained of our scholar. 
 
 We always waited till the grave was filled and 
 
3o DOMSIE. 
 
 the tu*f laid down, a trying quarter of an hour. 
 Ah me ! the thud of the spade on your mother's 
 grave ! None gave any sign of what he felt save 
 Drumsheugh, whose sordid slough had slipped off 
 frpm a tender heart, and Chalmers, who went be- 
 hind a tombstone and sobbed aloud. Not even 
 Posty asked the reason so much as by a look, and 
 Drumtochty, as it passed, made as though it did 
 not see. But I marked that the Dominie took Chal- 
 mers home, and walked all the way with him to 
 Kildrummie station next morning. His friends 
 erected a granite cross over George's grave, and it 
 was left to Domsie to choose the inscription. 
 There was a day when it would have been "Whom 
 the gods love die young." Since then Domsie had 
 seen the kingdom of God, and this is graven where 
 the roses bloomed fresh every summer for twenty 
 years till Marget was laid with her son : 
 
 GEORGE HOWE, M. A., 
 
 Died September 22d, 1869, 
 
 Aged 21. 
 
 ** They shall bring the glory and honour of the nations into it." 
 
 It was a late November day when I went to see 
 George's memorial, and the immortal hope was 
 burning low in my heart ; but as I stood before 
 that cross, the sun struggled from behind a black 
 watery bank of cloud, and picked out every letter 
 of the Apocalypse in gold. 
 
A HIGHLAND MYSTIC. 
 
 WHAT EYE HATH NOT SEEN. 
 
 STRANGE ministers who came to assist at the 
 Free Kirk Sacrament were much impressed with 
 the elders, and never forgot the transfiguration of 
 Donald MenzJes, which used to begin about the 
 middle of the " action " sermon, and was com- 
 pleted at the singing of the last Psalm. Once 
 there was no glory, because the minister, being 
 still young, expounded a new theory of the atone- 
 ment of German manufacture, and Donald's face 
 was piteous to behold. It haunted the minister 
 for months, and brought to confusion a promising 
 course of sermons on the contribution of Hegel to 
 Christian thought. Donald never laid the blame 
 of such calamities on the preacher, but accepted 
 them as a just judgment on his blindness of heart. 
 
 " We hef had the open vision," Donald explained 
 to his friend Lachlan Campbell, who distributed the 
 responsibility in another fashion, " and we would 
 not see so the veil hass fallen." 
 
40 A HIGHLAND MYSTIC. 
 
 Donald sat before the pulpit and filled the hearts 
 of nervous probationers with dismay, not because 
 his face was critical, but because it seemed non- 
 conducting, upon which their best passages would 
 break like spray against a rock, It was by nature 
 the dullest you ever saw, with hair descending low 
 upon the forehead, and preposterous whiskers 
 dominating everything that remained, except a 
 heavy mouth and brown, lack-lustre eyes. For a 
 while Donald crouched in the corner of the pew, 
 his head sunk on his breast, a very picture of utter 
 hopelessness. But as the Evangel began to play 
 round his heart, he would fix the preacher with 
 rapid, wistful glances, as of one who had awaked, 
 but hardly dared believe such things could be true. 
 Suddenly a sigh pervaded six pews, a kind of gentle 
 breath of penitence, faith, love, and hope mingled 
 together like the incense of the sanctuary, and 
 Donald lifted up his head. His eyes are now 
 aflame, and those sullen lips are refining into 
 curves of tenderness. From the manse pew I 
 watched keenly, for at any moment a wonderful 
 sight may be seen. A radiant smile will pass from 
 his lips to his eyes and spread over his face, as 
 when the sun shines on a fallow field and the rough 
 furrows melt into warmth and beauty. Donald's 
 gaze is now fixed on a window above the preacher's 
 head, for on these great days that window is to 
 him as the gate of heaven. All I could see would 
 be a bit of blue, and the fretted sunlight through 
 the swaying branches of an old plane tree. But 
 Donald has seen his Lord hanging upon the Cross 
 
W 'HA T EYE HA TH NOT SEEN. 4! 
 
 for him, and the New Jerusalem descending like a 
 bride adorned for her husband, more plainly than 
 if Perugino's great Crucifixion, with the kneeling 
 saints, and Angelico's Outer Court of Heaven, 
 with the dancing angels, had been hung in our 
 little Free Kirk. When he went down the aisle 
 with the flagon in the Sacrament, he walked as one 
 in a dream, and wist not that his face shone. 
 
 There was an interval after the Sacrament, 
 when the stranger was sent to his room with light 
 refreshments, to prepare himself for the evening, 
 and the elders dined with the minister. Before 
 the introduction of the Highlanders conversation 
 had an easy play within recognised limits, and was 
 always opened by Burnbrae, who had come out in 
 '43, and was understood to have read the Confes- 
 sion of Faith. 
 
 " Ye gave us a grawnd discoorse this mornin/ 
 sir, baith instructive and edifyin'; we were juist 
 sayin', comin' up the gairden, that ye were never 
 heard to mair advantage." 
 
 The minister was much relieved, because he 
 had not been hopeful during the week, and was 
 still dissatisfied, as he explained at length, with 
 the passage on the Colossian heresy. 
 
 When these doubts had been cleared up, Burn- 
 brae did his best by the minister upstairs, who had 
 submitted himself to the severe test of table 
 addresses. 
 
 " Yon were verra suitable words at the second 
 table; he's a speeritually minded man, Maister 
 Cosh, and has the richt sough." 
 
42 A HIGHLAND MYSTIC. 
 
 Or at the worst, when Burnbrae's courage had 
 failed : 
 
 " Maister McKittrick had a fine text afore the 
 table. I aye like tae see a man gang tae the 
 Song o' Solomon on the Sacrament Sabbath. 
 A' mind Dr. Guthrie on that verra subject twenty 
 years syne." 
 
 Having paid its religious dues, conversation 
 was now allowed some freedom, and it was won- 
 derful how many things could be touched on, 
 always from a sacramental standpoint. 
 
 " We've been awfu' favoured wi' weather the 
 day, and ought to be thankfu'. Gin it hads on 
 like this I wudna say but th'ill be a gude hairst. 
 That's a fine pucklie aits ye hae in the laigh 
 park, Burnbrae. " 
 
 " A've seen waur ; they're fillin' no that bad. 
 I wes juist thinkin' as I cam to the Kirk that 
 there wes aits in that field the Sacrament after 
 the Disruption." 
 
 " Did ye notice that Rachel Skene sat in her 
 seat through the tables ? Says I, ' Are ye no 
 gain forrit, Mistress Skene, or hae ye lost yir 
 token ? ' ' Na, na,' says she, ' ma token's safe in 
 ma handkerchief ; but I cudna get to Kirk yester- 
 day, and I never went forrit withoot ma Saiturday 
 yet, and I'm no to begin noo/ " 
 
 "She was aye a richt-thinkin' woman, Rachel, 
 there's nae mistake o' that; a' wonder hoo her 
 son is gettin' on wi' that fairm he's takin'; a' doot 
 it's rack-rented." 
 
 It was an honest, satisfying conversation, and 
 
WHA T EYE HA TH NOT SEEN. 43 
 
 reminded one of the parish of Drumtochty, being 
 both quoad sacra and quoad civzlza. 
 
 When the Highlanders came in, Burnbrae was 
 deposed after one encounter, and the minister was 
 reduced to a state of timid suggestion. There 
 were days when they would not peak one word, 
 and were understood to be lost in meditation ; on 
 others they broke in on any conversation that was 
 going from levels beyond the imagination of 
 Drumtochty. Had this happened in the Auld 
 Manse, Drumsheugh would have taken for 
 granted that Donald was " feeling sober " (ill), 
 and recommended the bottle which cured him of 
 " a hoast " (cough) in the fifties. But the Free 
 Kirk had been taught that the Highlanders were 
 unapproachable in spiritual attainments, and even 
 Burnbrae took his discipline meekly. 
 
 " It wes a mercy the mune changed last week, 
 Maister Menzies, or a'm thinkin* it had been a 
 weet sacrament." 
 
 Donald came out of a maze, where he had been 
 wandering in great peace. 
 
 " I wass not hearing that the moon had anything 
 to do in the matter. Oh, no, but he wass bound 
 hand and foot by a mighty man." 
 
 " Wha was bund ? A'm no juist followin' ye, 
 Maister Menzies." 
 
 " The Prince of the power of the air. Oh, yes, 
 and he shall not be loosed till the occasion be over. 
 I hef had a sign." After which, conversation on 
 the weather languished. 
 
 Perhaps the minister fared worse in an attempt 
 
44 A HIGHLAND MYSTIC. 
 
 to extract a certificate of efficiency from Lachlan 
 Campbell in favour of a rhetorical young preacher. 
 
 " A fery nice speaker, and well pleased with him- 
 self. But I would be thinking, when he wass giv- 
 ing his images. Oh, yes, I would be thinking. 
 There was a laddie feeshing in the burn before 
 my house, and a fery pretty laddie he wass. He 
 had a rod and a string, and he threw his line peau- 
 tiful. It wass a great peety he had no hook, for it 
 iss a want, and you do not catch many fish without 
 a hook. But I shall be glad that you are pleased, 
 sir, and all the elders." 
 
 These were only passing incidents, and left no 
 trace, but the rebuke Donald gave to Burnbrae will 
 be told while an elder lives. One of the last of 
 the old mystical school, which trace their descent 
 from Samuel Rutherford, had described the great 
 mystery of our Faith with such insight and pathos 
 that Donald had stood by the table weeping gently, 
 and found himself afterwards in the manse, he 
 knew not how. 
 
 The silence was more than could be borne, and 
 his former responsibility fell on Burnbrae. 
 
 " It wes wonnerful, and I canna mind hearing 
 the like o' yon at the tables ; but I was sorry to see 
 the Doctor sac failed. He wes bent twa fad ; a' 
 doot it's a titch o' rheumatism, or maybe lumbago. " 
 
 Johannine men are subject to sudden flashes of 
 anger, and Donald blazed. 
 
 " Bent down with rheumatism, iss that what you 
 say ? Oh, yes, it will be rheumatism. Hass the 
 sight of your eyes left you, and hef you no discern- 
 
WNA T EYE HA TH NOT SEEN. 45 
 
 ment ? Did ye not see that he was bowed to the 
 very table with the power of the Word ? for it was 
 a fire in his bones, and he was baptised with the 
 Holy Ghost ! " 
 
 When the elders gathered in the vestry, the 
 minister asked what time the preacher might have 
 for his evening sermon, and Donald again burst 
 forth : 
 
 " I am told that in towns the Gospel goes by 
 minutes, like the trains at the station ; but there 
 is no time-table here, for we shall wait till the sun 
 goes down to hear all things God will be sending 
 by His servant." 
 
 Good memories differ about the text that 
 Sacrament evening, and the length of the sermon, 
 but all hold as a treasure forever what happened 
 when the book was closed. The people were 
 hushed into a quiet that might be felt, and the old 
 man, swayed by the spirit of the Prophets, began 
 to repeat the blessings and curses in the Bible 
 between Genesis and Revelation, and after each 
 pair he cried with heart piercing voice, " Choose 
 this day which ye will take," till Donald could con- 
 tain himself no longer. 
 
 "Here iss the man who hass deserved all the 
 curses, and here iss the man who chooses all the 
 blessings." 
 
 Our fathers had no turn for sensation, but they 
 had an unerring sense of a spiritual situation. 
 The preacher paused for five seconds, while no 
 man could breathe, and then lifting up his hand 
 to Heaven he said, with an indescribable authority 
 
40 A HIGHLAND MYSTIC. 
 
 and tenderness, " The Lord fulfil the desire of your 
 heart both in this world and that which is to come." 
 Then the congregation sang, after the ancient 
 custom of our parts, 
 
 *' Now blessed be the Lord our God, 
 The God of Israel," 
 
 and Donald's face was one glory, because he saw 
 in the soft evening light of the upper window the 
 angels of God ascending and descending upon the 
 Son of man. 
 
 It was after this that the Free Kirk minister 
 occupied six months in proving that Moses did 
 not write Deuteronomy, and Lachlan was trying 
 for the same period to have the minister removed 
 from Drumtochty. Donald, deprived by one 
 stroke of both his friends, fell back on me, and 
 told me many things I loved to hear, although they 
 were beyond my comprehension. 
 
 " It wass not always so with me as it iss this 
 day, for I once had no ear for God's voice, and 
 my eyes were holden that I saw not the spiritual 
 world. But sore sickness came upon me, and I 
 wass nigh unto death, and my soul awoke withm 
 me and began to cry like a child for its mother. 
 All my days I had lived on Loch Tay, and now I 
 thought of the other country into which I would 
 hef to be going, where I had no nest, and my soul 
 would be driven to and fro in the darkness as a 
 bird on the moor of Rannoch. 
 
 " Janet sent for the minister, and he wass fery 
 kind, and he spoke about my sickness and my 
 
WHA T EYE HA TH NOT SEEN. 47 
 
 farm, and I said nothing. For I wass hoping he 
 would tell me what I wass to do for my soul. But 
 he began upon the sheep market at Amulree, and 
 I knew he wass also in the dark. After he left I 
 turned my face to the wall and wept. 
 
 " Next morning wass the Sabbath, and I said to 
 Janet : 
 
 " ' Wrap me in my plaid, and put me in a cart, 
 and take me to Aberfeldy.' ' And what will ye be 
 doing at Aberfeldy ? and you will die on the road/ 
 4 There iss," said I, * a man there who knows the 
 way of the soul, and it iss better to die with my 
 face to the light. ' 
 
 " They set me in a corner of the church where I 
 wass thinking no man could see me, and I cried in 
 my heart without ceasing, ' Lord, send me send 
 me a word from Thy mouth.' 
 
 " When the minister came into the pulpit he 
 gave me a strange look, and this wass his text, 
 4 Loose him and let him go.' 
 
 " As he preached I knew I wass Lazarus, with 
 the darkness of the grave around me, and my soul 
 straitly bound. I could do nothing, but I wass 
 longing with all my strength. 
 
 " Then the minister stopped, and he said : 
 
 " ' There is a man in this church, and he will 
 know himself who it iss. When I came in this 
 morning I saw a shadow on his face, and I knew 
 not whether it was the wing of the Angel of Life 
 or the Angel of Death passing over him, but the 
 Lord has made it plain to me, and I see the silver 
 feathers of the Angel of the Covenant, and this 
 
48 A HIGHLAND MYSTIC. 
 
 shall be a sign unto that man, ' Loose him and let 
 him go/ 
 
 " While he wass still speaking I felt my soul 
 carried out into the light of God's face, and my 
 grave-clothes were taken off one by one as Janet 
 would unwind my plaid, and I stood a living man 
 before Christ. 
 
 " It wass a sweet June day as we drove home, 
 and I lay in sunshine, and every bird that sang, 
 and the burnies by the roadside, and the rustling 
 of the birch leaves in the wind oh, yes ! and the 
 sound of the horse's feet were saying, ' Loose him 
 and let him go.' 
 
 " Loch Tay looked black angry as we came by 
 its side in the morning, and I said to Janet : 
 
 " ' It iss the Dead Sea, and I shall be as Sodom 
 and Gomorrah ; * but in the evening it wass as a 
 sea of glass mingled with fire, and I heard the 
 song of Moses and the Lamb sweeping over the 
 Loch, but this w r ass still the sweetest word to me, 
 Loose him and let him go/ " 
 
II. 
 
 AGAINST PRINCIPALITIES AND POWERS. 
 
 THE powers of darkness had been making a 
 dead set upon Donald all winter, and towards 
 spring he began to lose hope. He came to the 
 Cottage once a week with news from the seat of 
 war, and I could distinguish three zones of depres- 
 sion. Within the first he bewailed his inveterate 
 attachment to this world, and his absolute indiffer- 
 ence to spiritual things, and was content to describe 
 himself as Achan. The sign that he had entered 
 the second was a recurring reference to apostasy, 
 and then you had the melancholy satisfaction of 
 meeting the living representative of Simon Peter. 
 When he passed into the last zone of the Purga- 
 torio, Donald was beyond speech, and simply 
 allowed one to gather from allusions to thirty 
 pieces of silver that he was Judas Iscariot. 
 
 So long as it was only Achan or Simon Peter 
 that came to sit with me, one was not gravely con- 
 cerned, but Judas Iscariot meant that Donald had 
 entered the Valley of the Shadow. 
 
 He made a spirited rally at the winter Sacra- 
 ment, and distinguished himself greatly on the 
 evening of the Fast day. Being asked to pray, as 
 
 49 
 
5<> A HIGHLAND MYSTIC. 
 
 a recognition of comparative cheerfulness, Donald 
 continued for five and twenty minutes, and un- 
 folded the works of the Devil in such minute and 
 vivid detail that Burnbrae talks about it to this day, 
 and Lachlan Campbell, although an expert in this 
 department, confessed astonishment. It was a 
 mighty wrestle, and it was perhaps natural that 
 Donald should groan heavily at regular intervals, 
 and acquaint the meeting how the conflict went, 
 but the younger people were much shaken, and the 
 edification, even of the serious, was not without 
 reserve. 
 
 While Donald still lingered on the field of battle 
 to gather the spoils and guard against any sudden 
 return of the enemy, the elders had a hurried con- 
 sultation in the vestry, and Burnbrae put the posi- 
 tion with admirable force. 
 
 " Naebody can deny that it wes a maist extraor- 
 dinary prayer, and it passes me hoo he kens sae 
 muckle aboot the Deevil. In fac' it's a preevilege 
 tae hae sic an experienced hand among us, and I 
 wudna offend Donald Menzies for onything. But 
 yon groanin' wes a wee thingie discomposin', and 
 when he said, kind o' confidential, ' He's losing 
 his grup,' ma ain fouk cudna keep their coonte- 
 nance. Weel, I wes thinkin' that the best plan wud 
 be for Maister Campbell juist tae give a bit advice 
 and tell Donald that we're thankfu' to hear him at 
 the meeting, and michty lifted wi' his peteetions, 
 but it wud be an obleegation gin he wud leave oot 
 the groans and tell us aifterwards what wes gaein* 
 on, maybe in the Session." 
 
AGAINST PRINCIPALITIES AND POWERS. 5 1 
 
 Lachlan accepted his commission with quite 
 unusual diffidence, and offered a very free transla- 
 tion on the way home. ' 
 
 " It wass a mercy to hef you at the meeting this 
 night, Donald Menzies, for I saw that Satan had 
 come in great strength, and it iss not every man 
 that can withstand him. But you will not be 
 ignorant of his devices ; oh, no ! you will be knowing 
 them fery well. Satan had not much to say before 
 the prayer wass done, and I will not be expecting 
 to see him again at this occasion. It wass the 
 elders said, ' Donald Menzies has trampled Satan 
 under foot/ Oh, yes ! and fery glad men they were, 
 for it iss not given to them. But I would be think- 
 ing, iss it good to let the Devil hear you groaning 
 in the battle, and I would be wishing that you had 
 kept all your groans and given them to me on the 
 road." 
 
 " Iss it the groans you are not liking ? " retorted 
 Donald, stung by this unexpected criticism. " And 
 what iss wrong with groaning? But I hef the 
 Scripture, and I will not be caring what you say, 
 Lachlan Campbell." 
 
 " If you hef a warrant for groaning, it iss this 
 man that will be glad to hear it, for I am not re- 
 membering that passage." 
 
 " Maybe you hef not read " Maketh intercession 
 with groanings/ but it iss a fery good Scripture, 
 and it iss in my Bible." 
 
 " All Scripture iss good, Donald Menzies, but it 
 iss not lawful to divide Scripture, and it will read in 
 my Bible, ' groanings which cannot be uttered/ 
 
52 A HIGHLAND MYSTIC. 
 
 and I wass saying this would be the best way with 
 your groans." 
 
 Donald came in to tell me how this companion 
 in arms had treated him, and was still sore. 
 
 " He iss in the bondage of the letter these days, 
 for he will be always talking about Moses with the 
 minister, and I am not hearing that iss good for 
 the soul." 
 
 If even Lachlan could not attain to Donald, it 
 was perhaps no discredit that the Drumtochty 
 mind was at times hopelessly perplexed. 
 
 " He's a gude cratur and terrible gifted in 
 prayer/' Netherton explained to Burnbrae after 
 a prayer-meeting, when Donald had temporarily 
 abandoned Satan and given himself to autobi- 
 ography, "but yon wesna a verra ceevil way to 
 speak aboot his faither and mither." 
 
 " A* doot yir imaginin', Netherton. Donald 
 never mentioned his fouk the nicht, and it's no 
 likely he wud in the prayer-meeting." 
 
 " There's nae imaginin' aboot it ; a' heard him 
 wi* ma ain ears say twice, * My father was an 
 Amorite, and my mother a Hittite.' I'll take my 
 aith on it. Noo, a' dinna ken Donald's forbears 
 masel', for he's frae Tayside, but supposin' they 
 were as bad as bad cud be, it's no for him to 
 blacken his ain blood, and him an Elder." 
 
 " Toots, Netherton, yir aff it a' thegither. Div 
 ye no see yon's Bible langidge oot o' a Prophet, or 
 maybe Kings, and Donald wes usin't in a feegura- 
 tive capaucity ? " 
 
 " Feegurative or no feegurative, Burnbrae, it 
 
AGAINST PRINCIPALITIES AND POWERS. 53 
 
 disna maitter ; it's a peetifu' job howking [digging] 
 thro* the Bible for ill words tae misca yir fouk wf 
 afore the public." 
 
 Burnbrae gave up the contest in despair, feeling 
 himself that Old Testament allusions were risky, 
 and that Donald's quotation was less than 
 felicitous. 
 
 Donald's prayers were not known outside the 
 Free Kirk circle, but his encounters with the evil 
 one were public property, and caused a general 
 shudder. Drumtochty was never sure who might 
 not be listening, and considered that it was safer 
 not to meddle with certain nameless people. But 
 Donald waged an open warfare in every corner of 
 the parish, in the Kirk, by the wayside, in his 
 house, on the road to market, and was ready to 
 give anyone the benefit of his experiences. 
 
 " Donald Menzies is in yonder," said Hillocks, 
 pointing to the smithy, whose fire sent fitful 
 gleams across the dark road, " and he's carryin* 
 on maist fearsome. Ye wud think tae hear him 
 speak that auld Hornie wes gaein* louse in the 
 parish ; it sent a grue f shiver] doon ma back. 
 Faigs, it's no cannie to be muckle wi' the body, 
 for the Deil and Donald seem never separate. 
 Hear him noo ; hear him ! " 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Donald, addressing the smith 
 and two horror-stricken ploughmen, " I hef seen 
 him, and he hass withstood me on the road. It 
 wass late, and I was thinking on the shepherd and 
 the sheep, and Satan will come out from the wood 
 below Hillocks' farm-house [" Gude preserve us," 
 
54 A HIGHLAND MYSTIC. 
 
 from Hillocks] and say, ' That word is not for 
 you, Donald Menzies.' But I wass strong that 
 night, and I said, ' Neither shall any pluck them 
 out of my hand/ and he will not wait long after 
 that, oh, no ! and I did not follow him into the 
 wood." 
 
 The smith, relieved by the conclusion of the 
 tale, blew a mighty blast, and the fire burst into a 
 red blaze, throwing into relief the black figure of 
 the smith and the white faces of the ploughmen ; 
 glancing from the teeth of harrows, and the blades 
 of scythes, and the cruel knives of reaping ma- 
 chines, and from instruments with triple prongs ; 
 and lighting up with a hideous glare the black 
 sooty recesses of the smithy. 
 
 " Keep's a'," whispered Hillocks, clutching my 
 arm, " it's little better than the ill place. I wish 
 to gudeness I wes safe in ma ain hoose." 
 
 These were only indecisive skirmishes, for one 
 evening Donald came to my den with despair 
 written on every feature, and I knew that fighting 
 had begun at the centre, and that he was worsted. 
 
 It was half an hour before he became articulate, 
 during which time he sighed as if the end of all 
 things had come, and I caught the word scapegoat 
 twice ; but at last he told me that he had resigned 
 his eldership, and would absent himself in future 
 from the Free Kirk. 
 
 " It hass been a weary winter when minister and 
 people hef gone into captivity, and on Sabbath the 
 word wass taken altogether from the minister's 
 mouth, and he spake a language which we under- 
 
AGAINST PRINCIPALITIES AND POWERS. 55 
 
 stood not [it was the first of three sermons on the 
 Hexateuch, and had treated of the Jehovistic and 
 Elohistic documents with much learning], and I 
 will be asking all the way back, ' Iss it I ? ' ' Iss 
 it I?' 
 
 " Oh, yes ! and when I opened my Bible this iss 
 the word I will see, ' That thou doest, do quickly/ 
 and I knew it wass my sins that had brought great 
 judgments on the people, and turned the minister 
 into a man of stammering lips and another tongue. 
 
 " It wass a mercy that the roof did not fall and 
 bury all the people with me ; but we will not be 
 tempting the Almighty, for I hef gone outside, and 
 now there will be peace and blessing." 
 
 When we left the lighted room and stood on the 
 doorstep, Donald pointed to the darkness. " There 
 is no star, and you will be remembering what John 
 saw when the door opened and Judas went out. 
 It wass night ' oh, yes ! it iss night for me, but it 
 will be light for them." 
 
 As weeks went past, and Donald was seen 
 neither at Kirk nor market, my heart went out 
 to the lonely man in his soul conflict, and, al- 
 though there was no help in me, I went to ask 
 how it fared with him. After the footpath disen- 
 tangled itself from the pine woods and crossed the 
 burn by two fir trees nailed together, it climbed 
 a steep ascent to Donald's house, but I had barely 
 touched the foot when I saw him descending, his 
 head in the air, and his face shining. Before any 
 words passed, I knew that the battle had been 
 fought and won. 
 
$6 A HIGHLAND MYSTIC. 
 
 " It wass last night, and I will be coming to tell 
 you. Satan hass gone like darkness when the sun 
 ariseth, and I hef been delivered." 
 
 There are stories one cannot hear sitting, and 
 so we paced the meadow below, rich in primroses, 
 with a sloping bank of gorse behind us and the 
 pines before us, and the water breaking over the 
 stones at our feet. ' 
 
 " It is three weeks since I saw you, and all that 
 time I hef been wandering on the hill by day and 
 lying in the barn at night, for it wass not good to 
 be with people, and Satan wass always saying to 
 me, Judas went to his own place.' My dog will 
 lay his head on my knee and be sorry for me, and 
 the dumb animals will be looking at me out of 
 their great eyes, and be moaning. 
 
 " The lads are goot singers, and there wass 
 always a sound of Psalms on the farm, oh, yes, 
 and it was pleasant to come from the market and 
 hear the Psalms at the foot of the hill. It wass 
 like going up to Jerusalem. But there would be 
 no Psalms these days, for the lads could not sing 
 when their father's soul wass going down into 
 the pit. 
 
 " Oh no, and there wass no prayer last night, 
 but I told the lads to go to bed, and I lay down 
 before the fire to wrestle once more before I 
 perished. 
 
 " Janet will offer this word and the other, and 
 I will be trying them all, but Satan was tearing 
 them away as quick as I could speak, and he 
 always said, his own place.' 
 
AGAINST PRINCIPALITIES AND POWERS. 57 
 
 " ' There iss no hope for me/ I cried, ' but it iss 
 a mercy that you and the lads will be safe in the 
 City, and maybe the Lord will let me see you all 
 through the gate.' And that wass lifting me, but 
 then I will hear ' his own place/ ' his own place/ 
 and my heart began to fail, and I wass nigh to 
 despair. 
 
 " Then I heard a voice, oh, yes, as plain as you 
 are hearing me, ' The blood of Jesus Christ, His 
 Son, cleanseth us from all sin.' It wass like a 
 gleam from the Mercy-seat, but I would be waiting 
 to see whether Satan had any answer, and my 
 heart was standing still. But there wass no word 
 from him,' not one word. Then I leaped to my 
 feet and cried, ' Get thee behind me, Satan/ and I 
 will look round, and there wass no one to be seen 
 but Janet in her chair, with the tears on her cheeks, 
 and she wass saying, ' Thanks be to God, which 
 giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus 
 Christ.' 
 
 " The lads were not sleeping fery sound when 
 their father was fighting for his life, oh, no, and I 
 am not saying but maybe they would be praying. 
 It wass not fery long before they came down, and 
 Hamish will be looking at my face, and then he 
 will get the books, and this is the Psalm we 
 sang: 
 
 " ' I love the Lord, because my voice 
 
 And prayers He did hear. 
 I, while I live, will call on Him, 
 Who bowed to me His ear. 
 
S3 A HIGHLAND MYSTIC. 
 
 * ' God merciful and righteous is, 
 Yea, gracious is our Lord ; 
 God saves the meek ; I was brought low. 
 He did me help afford.' " 
 
 This was the victory of Donald Menzies, anil on 
 reaching home I marked that the early roses were 
 beginning to bloom over the door through whick 
 Donald had gone out into the darkness. 
 
HIS MOTHER'S SERMON. 
 
 HE was an ingenuous lad, with the callow sim- 
 plicity of a theological college still untouched, and 
 had arrived on the preceding Monday at the Free 
 Kirk manse with four cartloads of furniture and 
 a maiden aunt. For three days he roamed from 
 room to room in the excitement of householding, 
 and made suggestions which were received with 
 hilarious contempt ; then he shut himself up in his 
 study to prepare the great sermon, and his aunt 
 went about on tiptoe. During meals on Friday he 
 explained casually that his own wish was to preach 
 a simple sermon, and that he would have done so 
 had he been a private individual, but as he had 
 held the MacWhammel scholarship a deliverance 
 was expected by the country. He would be care- 
 ful and say nothing rash, but it was due to him- 
 self to state the present position of theological 
 thought, and he might have to quote once or twice 
 from Ewaid. 
 
 His aunt was a saint, with that firm grasp of 
 
 truth, and tender mysticism, whose combination is 
 
 the charm of Scottish piety, and her face was 
 
 troubled. While %he minister was speaking in his 
 
 * 
 
60 HIS MOTHER'S SERMON. 
 
 boyish complacency, her thoughts were in a room 
 where they had both stood, five years before, by 
 the death-bed of his mother. 
 
 He was broken that day, and his sobs shook the 
 bed, for he was his mother's only son and father- 
 less, and his mother, brave and faithful to the last, 
 was bidding him farewell. 
 
 " Dinna greet like that, John, nor break yir hert, 
 for it's the will o' God, and that's aye best. 
 
 " Here's my watch and chain," placing them be- 
 side her son, who could not touch them, nor would 
 lift his head, " and when ye feel the chain about 
 yir neck it will mind ye o' yir mother's arms. 
 
 "Ye'ill no forget me, John, I ken that weel, 
 and I'll never forget you. I've loved ye here, and 
 I'll love ye yonder. Th'ill no be an 'oor when I'll 
 no pray for ye, and I'll ken better what to ask than 
 I did here ; sae dinna be comfortless." 
 
 Then she felt for his head and stroked it once 
 more, but he could not look nor speak. 
 
 " Ye'ill follow Christ, and gin He offers ye 
 His cross, ye'ill no refuse it, for He aye carries the 
 heavy end Himsel'. He's guided yir mother a' 
 thae years, and been as guid as a husband since 
 yir father's death, and He'ill hold me fast tae 
 the end. He'ill keep ye too, and, John, I'll be 
 watchin* for ye. Ye'ill no fail me," and her poor 
 cold hand that had tended him all his days tight- 
 ened on his head. 
 
 But he could not speak, and her voice was fail- 
 ing fast. 
 
 " I canna see ye noo, John, but I know yir there, 
 
HIS MOTHER'S SERlfiotf. 6l 
 
 and I've just one other wish. If God calls ye to 
 the ministry, ye'ill no refuse, an* the first day ye 
 preach in yir ain kirk, speak a gude word for 
 Jesus Christ, an', John, I'll hear ye that day, though 
 ye'ill no see me, and I'll be satisfied." 
 
 A minute after she whispered, " Pray for me/' 
 and he cried, " My mother, my mother !*' 
 
 It was a full prayer, and left nothing unasked of 
 Mary's Son. 
 
 " John," said his aunt, " your mother is with the 
 Lord," and he saw death for the first time, but it 
 was beautiful with the peace that passeth ail 
 understanding. 
 
 Five years had passed, crowded with thought 
 and work, and his aunt wondered whether he 
 remembered that last request, or indeed had heard 
 it in his sorrow. 
 
 " What are you thinking about, aunt ? Are you 
 afraid of my theology ? " 
 
 " No, John, it's no that, laddie, for I ken ye'ill 
 say what ye believe to be true withoot fear o' man," 
 and she hesitated. 
 
 "Come, out with it, auntie: you're my only 
 mother now, you know," and the minister put his 
 arm round her, " as well as the kindest, bonniest, 
 goodest auntie ever man had." 
 
 Below his student self-conceit he was a good 
 lad, and sound of heart. 
 
 " Shame on you, John, to make a fule o* an auld 
 dune body, but ye'ill no come round me wi' yir 
 flattery. I ken ye ower weel," and as she caught 
 the likeness in his face, her eyes filled suddenly. 
 
62 HIS MOTHER'S SERMON. 
 
 "What's the matter, auntie? Will ye no tell 
 me?" 
 
 " Dinna be angry wi' me, John, but a'm con- 
 cerned aboot Sabbath, for aVe been praying ever 
 syne ye were called to Drumtochty that it micht be 
 a great day, and that I micht see ye comin* tae yir 
 people, laddie, wi' the beauty o* the Lord upon ye, 
 according tae the auld prophecy : How beautiful 
 upon the mountains are the feet of him that 
 bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace,' \ 
 and again she stopped. 
 
 " Go on, auntie, go on," he whispered ; " say all 
 that's in yir mind." 
 
 " It's no for me tae advise ye, who am only a 
 simple auld woman, who ken's naethin* but her 
 Bible and the Catechism, and it's no that a'm 
 feared for the new views, or aboot yir faith, for I 
 aye mind that there's mony things the Speerit hes 
 still tae teach us, and I ken weel the man that fol- 
 lows Christ will never lose his way in ony thicket. 
 But it's the fouk, John, a'm anxious aboot; the 
 flock o' sheep the Lord hes given ye tae feed for 
 Him." 
 
 She could not see his face, but she felt him 
 gently press her hand, and took courage. 
 
 " Ye maun mind, laddie, that they're no clever 
 and learned like what ye are, but juist plain country 
 fouk, ilka ane wi* his ain temptation, an* a' sair 
 trachled wi' mony cares o' this world. They'ill 
 need a clear word tae comfort their herts and show 
 them the way everlasting. Ye'ill say what's 
 richt, nae doot o' that, and a'body 'ill be pleased 
 
HIS MOTHER'S SERMON. 63 
 
 wi' ye, but, oh, laddie, be sure ye say a gude word 
 for Jesus Christ." 
 
 The minister's face whitened, and his arm re- 
 laxed. He rose hastily and went to the door, but 
 in going out he gave his aunt an understanding 
 look, such as passes between people who have 
 stood together in a sorrow. The son had not for- 
 gotten his mother's request. 
 
 The manse garden lies towards the west, and 
 as the minister paced its little square of turf shel- 
 tered by fir hedges, the sun was going down behind 
 the Grampians. Black massy clouds had begun 
 to gather in the evening and threatened to obscure 
 the sunset, which was the finest sight a Drum- 
 tochty man was ever likely to see, and a means of 
 grace to every sensible heart in the glen. But the 
 sun had beat back the clouds on either side, and 
 shot them through with glory, and now between 
 piled billows of light he went along a shining path- 
 way into the Gates of the West. The minister 
 stood still before that spectacle, his face bathed in 
 the golden glory, and then before his eyes the gold 
 deepened into an awful red, and the red passed 
 into shades of violet and green, beyond painter's 
 hand or the imagination of man. It seemed to 
 him as if a victorious saint had entered through 
 the gates into the city, washed in the blood of the 
 Lamb, and the after-glow of his mother's life fell 
 solemnly on his soul. The last trace of sunset 
 had faded from the hills when the minister 
 came in, and his face was of one who had seen 
 a vision. He asked his aunt to have worship 
 
$4 HIS MOTHER'S SERMON. 
 
 with the servant, for he must be alone in his 
 study. 
 
 It was a cheerful room in the daytime, with its 
 southern window, through which the minister saw 
 the roses touching the very glass and dwarf apple 
 trees lining the garden walks ; there was also a 
 western window that he might watch each day 
 close. It was a pleasant room now, when the cur- 
 tains were drawn, and the light of the lamp fell on 
 the books he loved, and which bade him welcome. 
 One by one he had arranged the hard-bought 
 treasures of student days in the little book-case, 
 and had planned for himself that sweetest of 
 pleasures, an evening of desultory reading. But 
 his books went out of mind as he looked at the 
 sermon shining beneath the glare of the lamp and 
 demanding judgment. He had finished its last 
 page with honest pride that afternoon, and had 
 declaimed it, facing the southern window, with 
 a success that amazed himself. His hope was 
 that he might be kept humble, and not called to 
 Edinburgh for at least two years ; and now he 
 lifted the sheets with fear. The brilliant opening, 
 with its historical parallel, this review of modern 
 thought reinforced by telling quotations, that 
 trenchant criticism of old-fashioned views, would 
 not deliver. For the audience had vanished, and 
 left one careworn, but ever beautiful face, whose 
 gentle eyes were waiting with a yearning look. 
 Twice he crushed the sermon in his hands, and 
 turned to the fire his aunt's care had kindled, and 
 twice he repented and smoothed it out. What 
 
HIS MOTHER'S SERMON. 65 
 
 else could he say now to the people ? and then in 
 the stillness of the room he heard a voice, " Speak 
 a gude word for Jesus Christ." 
 
 Next minute he was kneeling on the hearth, and 
 pressing the magnum opus, that was to shake 
 Drumtochty, into the heart of the red fire, and he 
 saw, half-smiling and half weeping, the impressive 
 words " Semitic environment " shrivel up and dis- 
 appear. As the last black flake fluttered out of 
 sight, the face looked at him again, but this time 
 the sweet brown eyes were full of peace. 
 
 It was no masterpiece, but only the crude pro 
 duction of a lad who knew little of letters and 
 nothing of the world. Very likely it would have 
 done neither harm nor good, but it was his best, 
 and he gave it for love's sake, and I suppose that 
 there is nothing in a human life so precious to 
 God, neither clever words nor famous deeds, as 
 the sacrifices of love. 
 
 The moon flooded his bedroom with silver light, 
 and he felt the presence of his mother. His bed 
 stood ghostly with its white curtains, and he re- 
 membered how every night his mother knelt by its 
 side in prayer for him. He is a boy once more, 
 and repeats the Lord's Prayer, then he cries again, 
 " My mother ! my mother ! " and an indescribable 
 contentment fills his heart. 
 
 His prayer next morning was very short, but 
 afterwards he stood at the window, for a space, 
 and when he turned, his aunt said : 
 
 " Ye will get yir sermon, and it will be worth 
 hearing." 
 
66 HIS MOTHER'S SERMOtf. 
 
 " How did ye know ? " 
 
 But she only smiled, " I heard you pray. v 
 
 When he shut himself into the study that Satur- 
 day morning, his aunt went into her room above, 
 and he knew she had gone to intercede for him. 
 
 An hour afterwards he was pacing the garden 
 in such anxious thought that he crushed with his 
 foot a rose lying on the path, and then she saw his 
 face suddenly lighten, and he hurried to the house, 
 but first he plucked a bunch of forget-me-nots. In 
 the evening she found them on his sermon. 
 
 Two hours later for still she prayed and 
 watched in faithfulness to mother and son she 
 observed him come out and wander round the 
 garden in great joy. He lifted up the soiled rose 
 and put it in his coat ; he released a butterfly 
 caught in some mesh; he buried his face in 
 fragrant honeysuckle. Then she understood that 
 his heart was full of love, and was sure that it 
 would be well on the morrow. 
 
 When the bell began to ring, the minister rose 
 from his knees and went to his aunt's room to be 
 robed, for this was a covenant between them. 
 
 His gown was spread out in its black silken 
 glory, but he sat down in despair. 
 
 " Auntie, whatever shall we do, for I've forgotten 
 the bands?" 
 
 " But I've not forgot them, John, and here are 
 six pair wrought with my own hands, and now sit 
 still and I'll tie them round my laddie's neck." 
 
 When she had given the last touch, and he was 
 ready to go, a sudden seriousness fell upon them. 
 
HIS MOTHER'S SERMON. 67 
 
 " Kiss me, auntie." 
 
 " For your mother, and her God be with you," 
 and then he went through the garden and under- 
 neath the honeysuckle and into the kirk, where 
 every Free Churchman in Drumtochty that could 
 get out of bed, and half the Established Kirk, were 
 waiting in expectation. 
 
 I sat with his aunt in the minister's pew, and 
 shall always be glad that I was at that service. 
 When winter lies heavy upon the glen I go upon 
 my travels, and in my time have seen many reli- 
 gious functions. I have been in Mr. Spurgeon's 
 Tabernacle, where the people wept one minute and 
 laughed the next ; have heard Canon Liddon in St. 
 Paul's, and the sound of that high, clear voice 
 is still with me, " Awake, awake, put on thy 
 strength, O Zion ; " have seen High Mass in 
 St. Peter's, and stood in the dusk of the Duomo 
 at Florence when Padre Agostino thundered 
 against the evils of the day. But I never realised 
 the unseen world as I did that day in the Free 
 Kirk of Drumtochty. 
 
 It is impossible to analyse a spiritual effect, 
 because it is largely an atmosphere, but certain 
 circumstances assisted. One was instantly pre- 
 possessed in favour of a young minister who gave 
 out the second paraphrase at his first service, for it 
 declared his filial reverence and won for him the 
 blessing of a cloud of witnesses. No Scottish man 
 can ever sing, 
 
 " God of our fathers, be the God 
 Of their succeeding race," 
 
68 HIS MOTHER'S SERMON. 
 
 with a dry heart. It satisfied me at once that the 
 minister was of a fine temper when, after a brave 
 attempt to join, he hid his face and was silent 
 We thought none the worse of him that he was 
 nervous, and two or three old people who had 
 suspected self-sufficiency took him to their hearts 
 when the minister concluded the Lord's prayer 
 hurriedly, having omitted two petitions. But we 
 knew it was not nervousness which made him 
 pause for ten seconds after praying for widows and 
 orphans, and in the silence which fell upon us the 
 Divine Spirit had free access. His youth com- 
 mended him, since he was also modest, for every 
 mother had come with an inarticulate prayer that 
 the " puir laddie wud dae weel on his first day, and 
 him only twenty-four." Texts I can never remem- 
 ber, nor, for that matter, the words of sermons * 
 but the subject was Jesus Christ, and before he 
 had spoken five minutes I was convinced, who am 
 outside dogmas and churches, that Christ was 
 present. The preacher faded from before one's 
 eyes, and there rose the figure of the Nazarene, best 
 lover of every human soul, with a face of tender 
 patience such as Sarto gave the Master in the 
 Church of the Annunziata, and stretching out His 
 hands to old folk and little children as He did, 
 before His death, in Galilee. His voice might be 
 heard any moment, as I have imagined it in my 
 lonely hours by the winter fire or on the solitary 
 hills soft, low, and sweet, penetrating like music 
 to the secret of the heart, " Come unto Me . . . 
 and I will give you rest." 
 
HIS MOTHERS SERMON". 69 
 
 During a pause in the sermon I glanced up the 
 church, and saw the same spell held the people, 
 Donald Menzies had long ago been caught into the 
 third heaven, and was now hearing words which it 
 is not lawful to utter. Campbell in his watch-tower 
 at the back had closed his eyes, and was praying. 
 The women were weeping quietly, and the rugged 
 faces of our men were subdued and softened, as 
 when the evening sun plays on the granite stone. 
 
 But what will stand out for ever before my mind 
 was the sight of Marget Howe. Her face was as 
 white as death, and her wonderful gray eyes were 
 shining through a mist of tears, so that I caught 
 the light in the manse pew. She was thinking of 
 George, and had taken the minister to her heart. 
 
 The elders, one by one, gripped the minister's 
 hand in the vestry, and, though plain, homely men, 
 they were the godliest in the glen ; but no man 
 spoke save Burnbrae. 
 
 " I a* but lost ae fairm for the Free Kirk, and I 
 wud hae lost ten tae be in the Kirk this day." 
 
 Donald walked with me homewards, but would 
 only say ; 
 
 " There was a man sent from God whose name 
 was John." At the cottage he added, 4< The 
 friend of the bridegroom rejoiced greatly because 
 of the bridegroom's voice." 
 
 Beneath the honeysuckle at his garden gate a 
 woman was waiting. 
 
 " My name is Marget Howe, and I'm the wife of 
 William Howe of Whinnie Knowe. My only son 
 wes preparin' for the ministry, but God wanted him 
 
70 HIS MOTHER'S SERMON. 
 
 nearly a year syne. When ye preached the Evan- 
 gel o' Jesus the day I heard his voice, and I loved 
 you. Ye hev nae mither on earth, I hear, and I 
 hae nae son, and I wantit tae say that if ye evet 
 wish tae speak to ony woman as ye wud tae yir 
 mither, come tae Whinnie Knowe, an' I'll coont it 
 ane of the Lord's consolations." 
 
 His aunt could only meet him in the study, and 
 when he looked on her his lip quivered, for his 
 heart was wrung with one wistful regret. 
 
 " Oh, auntie, if she had only been spared to sec 
 this day, and her prayers answered." 
 
 But his aunt flung her arms round his neck. 
 
 " Dinna be cast doon, laddie, nor be unbelievin'. 
 Yir mither has heard every word, and is satisfied, 
 for ye did it in remembrance o' her, and yon was 
 yir mither's sermon." 
 
THE TRANSFORMATION OF 
 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A GRAND INQUISITOR. 
 
 THE Free Kirk of Drumtochty had no gallery, 
 but a section of seats at the back was raised two 
 feet, and anyone in the first pew might be said to 
 sit in the "briest o' the laft." When Lachlan 
 Campbell arrived from the privileged parish of 
 Auchindarroch, where the " Men " ruled with iron 
 hand and no one shaved on Sabbath, he examined 
 the lie of country with the eye of a strategist, and 
 seized at once a corner seat on the crest of the 
 hill. From this vantage ground, with his back to 
 the wall and a clear space left between himself 
 and his daughter Flora, he had an easy command 
 of the pulpit, and within six months had been con- 
 stituted a court of review neither minister nor 
 people could lightly disregard. It was not that 
 Lachlan spoke hastily or at length, for his policy 
 was generally a silence pregnant with judgment, 
 and his deliverances were for the most part in 
 parables, none the less awful because hard of in* 
 
72 TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 terpretation. Like every true Celt, he had the 
 power of reserve, and knew the value of mystery. 
 His voice must not be heard in irresponsible gos- 
 sip at the Kirk door, and he never condescended to 
 the level of Mrs. MacFadyen, our recognised ser- 
 mon taster, who criticised everything in the tech- 
 nique of the pulpit, from the number of heads in a 
 sermon, to the air with which a probationer used 
 his pocket-handkerchief. She lived in the eye of 
 the public, and gave her opinions with the light 
 heart of a newspaper writer ; but Lachlan kept 
 himself ' in the shadow and wore a manner of 
 studied humility as became the administrator of the 
 Holy Office in Drumtochty. 
 
 Lachlan was a little man, with a spare, wiry body, 
 iron-gray hair and whiskers carefully arranged, 
 a keen old-fashioned face sharpened by much 
 spiritual thinking, and eyes that looked at you from 
 beneath shaggy eyebrows as from some other 
 world. His face had an irresistible suggestion of 
 a Skye terrier, the most serious of animals, with 
 the hair reduced, and Drumsheugh carried us all 
 with him when, in a moment of inspiration, he 
 declared that " the body looks as if he hed juist 
 come oot 'o the Ark." He was a shepherd to 
 trade, and very faithful in all his work, but his life 
 business was theology, from Supralapsarianism in 
 Election to the marks of faith in a believer's heart. 
 His library consisted of some fifty volumes of 
 ancient divinity, and lay on an old oak kist close to 
 his hand, where he sat beside the fire of a winter 
 night. When the sheep were safe and his day's 
 
A GRAND INQUISITOR. 73 
 
 labour was over, he read by the light of the fire 
 and the "crusie" (oil-lamp) overhead, Witsius on 
 the Covenants, or Rutherford's "Christ Dying," or 
 Bunyan's " Grace Abounding," or Owen's " i3Oth 
 Psalm," while the collies slept at his feet, and 
 Flora put the finishing stroke to some bit of rustic 
 finery. Worship was always coloured by the even- 
 ing's reading, but the old man never forgot to 
 pray that they both might have a place in the 
 everlasting covenant, and that the backslidings of 
 Scotland might be healed. 
 
 As our inquisitor, Lachlan searched anxiously 
 for sound doctrine and deep experience, but he 
 was not concerned about learning, and fluency he 
 regarded with disgust. When a young minister 
 from Muirtown stamped twice in his prayer at the 
 Drumtochty Fast, and preached with great elo- 
 quence from the words, " And there was no more 
 sea," repeating the text at the end of each para- 
 graph, and concluding the sermon with "Lord 
 Ullin's Daughter," the atmosphere round Lachlan 
 became electric, and no one dared to speak to him 
 outside. He never expressed his mind on this 
 melancholy exhibition, but the following Sabbath 
 he explained the principle on which they elected 
 ministers at Auchindarroch, which was his stand- 
 ard of perfection. 
 
 *'Six young men came, and they did not sing 
 songs in the pulpit. Oh, no, they preached fery 
 well, and I said to Angus Bain, ' They are all goot 
 lads, and there is nothing wrong with their 
 doctrine/ 
 
74 TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 " Angus \vass one of the ' Men,' and saw what 
 wass hidden from me, and he will be saying, Oh, 
 yes, they said their lesson fery pretty, but I did 
 not see them tremble, Lachlan Campbell. Another 
 ks coming, and seven is a goot number.' 
 
 " It wass next Sabbath that he came, and he wass 
 a white man, giving out his text, ' Blessed are they 
 which are called unto the marriage supper of the 
 Lamb,' and I wass thinking that the Lord had laid 
 too great a burden on the lad, and that he could 
 not be fit for such a work. It wass not more than 
 ten minutes before he will be trying to tell us what 
 he wass seeing, and will not hef the words. He 
 had to go down from the pulpit as a man that had 
 been in the heavenly places, and wass stricken 
 dumb. 
 
 " It iss the Lord that has put me to shame this 
 day/ he said to the elders, ' and I will nefer show 
 my face again in Auchindarroch, for I ought not 
 to have meddled with things too high for me.' 
 
 * You will show your face here every Sabbath/ 
 answered Angus Bain, for the Lord said unto me, 
 * Wait for the man that trembles at the Word, and 
 iss not able to speak, and it will be a sign unto 
 you," ' and a fery goot minister he wass, and made 
 the hypocrites in Zion to be afraid." 
 
 Lachlan dealt tenderly with our young Free 
 Kirk minister, for the sake of his first day, and 
 passed over some very shallow experience without 
 remark, but an autumn sermon roused him to a 
 sense of duty. For some clays a storm of wind and 
 rain had been stripping the leaves from the trees 
 
A GRAND INQUISITOR. 75 
 
 and gathering them in sodden heaps upon the 
 ground. The minister looked out on the garden 
 where many holy thoughts had visited him, and 
 his heart sank like lead, for it was desolate, and of 
 all its beauty there remained but one rose clinging 
 to its stalk, drenched and faded. It seemed as if 
 youth, with its flower of promise and hope, had 
 been beaten down, and a sense of loneliness fell on 
 his soul. He had no heart for work, and crept to 
 bed, broken and dispirited. During the night the 
 rain ceased, and the north wind began to blow, 
 which cleanses nature in every pore, and braces 
 each true man for his battle. The morrow was 
 one of those glorious days which herald winter, and 
 as the minister tramped along the road, where the 
 dry leaves crackled beneath his feet, and climbed 
 to the moor with head on high, the despair of yes- 
 terday vanished. The wind had ceased, and the 
 glen lay at his feet, distinct in the cold, clear air, 
 from the dark mass of pines that closed its upper 
 end to the swelling woods of oak and beech that 
 cut it off from the great Strath. He had received 
 a warm welcome from all kinds of people, and now 
 he marked with human sympathy each little home- 
 stead with its belt of firs against the winter's 
 storms, and its stackyard where the corn had been 
 gathered safe; the ploughman and his horses 
 cutting brown ribbons in the bare stubble ; dark 
 squares where the potato stalks have withered to 
 the ground, and women are raising the roots, and 
 here and there a few cattle still out in the fields. 
 His eyes fell on the great wood through which he 
 
76 TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 had rambled in August, now one blaze of colour, 
 rich green and light yellow, with patches of fiery 
 red and dark purple. God seemed to have given 
 him a sermon, and he wrote that evening, like one 
 inspired, on the same parable of nature Jesus 
 loved, with its subtle interpretation of our sorrows, 
 joys, trust, and hope. People told me that it was 
 a " rael bonnie sermon," and that Netherton had 
 forgotten his after-sermon snuff, although it was 
 his turn to pass the box to Burnbrae. 
 
 The minister returned to his study in a f re glow 
 of body and soul, to find a severe figure standing 
 motionless in the middle of the room. 
 
 " Wass that what you call a sermon?" said 
 Lachlan Campbell, without other greeting. 
 
 John Carmichael was still so full of joy that he 
 did not catch the tone, and explained with college 
 pedantry that it was hardly a sermon, nor yet a 
 lecture. 
 
 " You may call it a meditation." 
 
 " I will be calling it an essay without one bite of 
 grass for starving sheep." 
 
 Then the minister awoke from a pleasant dream, 
 as if one had flung cold water on his naked 
 body. 
 
 " What was wrong ? " with an anxious look at 
 the stern little man who of a sudden had become 
 his judge. 
 
 " There wass nothing right, for I am not think- 
 ing that trees and leaves and stubble fields will 
 save our souls, and I did not hear about sin and 
 repentance and the work of Christ. It iss sound 
 
A GRAND INQUISITOR. 77 
 
 doctrine that we need, and a great peety you are 
 not giving it." 
 
 The minister had been made much of in college 
 circles, and had a fair idea of himself. He was a 
 kindly lad, but he did not see why he should be 
 lectured by an old Highlandman who read nothing 
 except Puritans, and was blind with prejudice. 
 When they parted that Sabbath afternoon it was 
 the younger man that had lost his temper, and the 
 other did not offer to shake hands. 
 
 Perhaps the minister would have understood 
 Lachlan better if he had known that the old man 
 could not touch food when he got home, and spent 
 the evening in a fir wood praying for the lad he 
 had begun to love. And Lachlan would have 
 had a lighter heart if he had heard the minister 
 questioning himself whether he had denied the 
 Evangel or sinned against one of Christ's disciples. 
 They argued together ; they prayed apart. 
 
 Lachlan was careful to say nothing, but the con- 
 gregation felt that his hand was against the minis- 
 ter, and Burnbrae took him to task. 
 
 " Ye maunna be ower hard on him, Maister 
 Campbell, for he's but young, and comin' on fine. 
 He hes a hearty word for ilka body on the road, 
 and the sicht o' his fresh young face in the poopit 
 is a sermon itsel'." 
 
 " You are wrong, Burnbrae, if you will be think- 
 ing that my heart iss not warm to the minister, for 
 it went out unto him from the day he preached 
 his first sermon. But the Lord regardeth not the 
 countenance of man." 
 
78 TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 " Nae doot, nae doot ! but I canna see onything 
 wrang in his doctrine ; it wudna be reasonable tae 
 expect auld-fashioned sermons frae a young man, 
 and I wud coont them barely honest. A'm no 
 denying that he gaes far afield, and tak's us tae 
 strange lands when he's on his travels, but ye'ill 
 acknowledge that he gaithers mony treasures, and 
 he aye comes back tae Christ." 
 
 " No, I will not be saying that John Carmichael 
 does not love Christ, for I hef seen the Lord in his 
 sermons like a face through a lattice. Oh, yes ! and 
 I hef felt the fragrance of the myrrh. But I am 
 not liking his doctrine, and I wass thinking that 
 some day there will be no original sin left in the 
 parish of Drumtochty." 
 
 It was about this time that the minister made 
 a great mistake, although he was trying to do his 
 best for the people, and always obeyed his con- 
 science. He used to come over to the Cottage for 
 a ramble through my books, and one evening he 
 told me that he had prepared what he called a 
 " course " on Biblical criticism, and was going to 
 place Drumtochty on a level with Germany. It 
 was certainly a strange part for me to advise a 
 minister, but I had grown to like the lad, because 
 he was full of enthusiasm and too honest for this 
 world, and I implored him to be cautious. Drum- 
 tochty was not anxious to be enlightened about the 
 authors of the Pentateuch, being quite satisfied 
 with Moses, and it was possible that certain good 
 men in Drumtochty might resent any interference 
 with their hereditary notions. Why could be not 
 
A GRAND INQUISITOR. 79 
 
 read this subject for his own pleasure, and teach it 
 quietly in classes ? Why give himself away in the 
 pulpit ? This worldly counsel brought the minis- 
 ter to a white heat, and he rose to his feet. Had 
 he had not been ordained to feed his people with 
 truth, and was he not bound to tell them all he 
 knew? We were living in an age of transition, 
 and he must prepare Christ's folk that they be not 
 taken unawares. If he failed in his duty through 
 any fear of consequences, men would rise after- 
 wards to condemn him for cowardice, and lay 
 their unbelief at his door. When he ceased I was 
 ashamed of my cynical advice, and resolved never 
 again to interfere with " courses " or other matters 
 above the lay mind. But greater knowledge of 
 the world had made me a wise prophet. 
 
 Within a month the Free Kirk was in an up- 
 roar, and when I dropped in one Sabbath morn- 
 ing the situation seemed to me a very pathetic 
 tragedy. The minister was offering to the honest 
 country-folk a mass of immature and undigested 
 details about the Bible, and they were listening 
 with wearied, perplexed faces. Lachlan Campbell 
 sat grim and watchful, without a sign of flinching, 
 but even from the Manse pew I could detect the 
 suffering of his heart. When the minister blazed 
 into polemic against the bigotry of the old school, 
 the iron face quivered as if a father had been 
 struck by his son. Carmichael looked thin and 
 nervous in the pulpit, and it came to me that if 
 new views are to be preached to old-fashioned 
 people it ought not to be bv lads, who are always 
 
80 TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 heady and intolerant, but by a stout man of middle 
 age, with a rich voice and a good-natured manner. 
 Had Carmichael rasped and girded much longer, 
 one would have believed in the inspiration of the 
 vowel points, and I left the church with a low 
 heart, for this was a woeful change from his 
 first sermon. 
 
 Lachlan would not be pacified, not even by the 
 plea of the minister's health. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I am seeing that he is ill and I will 
 be as sorry as any man in Drumtochty. But it 
 iss not too much work, as they are saying ; it iss 
 the judgment of God. It iss not goot to meddle 
 with Moses, and John Carmichael will be knowing 
 that. His own sister wass not respectful to Moses, 
 and she will not be feeling fery well next day." 
 
 But Burnbrae added that the " auld man cudna 
 be mair cast doon if he hed lost his dochter." 
 
 The peace of the Free Kirk had been broken, 
 and the minister was eating out his heart, when 
 he remembered the invitation of Marget Howe, and 
 went one sweet spring day to Whinnie Knowe. 
 
 Marget met him with her quiet welcome at the 
 garden gate. 
 
 " Ye hae done me a great kindness in comin', 
 Maister Carmichael, and if ye please we'ill sit 
 in this sunny corner which is dear tae me, and 
 ye'ill tell me yir troubles." 
 
 So they sat down together beside the brier bush, 
 and after one glance at Marget's face the minister 
 opened his heart, and told her the great contro- 
 versy with Lachlan. 
 
A GRAND INQUISITOR. 8 1 
 
 Marget lifted her head as one who had heard 
 of some brave deed, and there was a ring in her 
 voice. 
 
 " It mak's me prood before God that there 
 are twa men in Drumtochty who follow their 
 conscience as king, and coont truth dearer than 
 their ain freends. It's peetiful when God's 
 bairns fecht through greed and envy, but it's 
 hertsome when they are wullin' tae wrestle 
 aboot the Evangel, for surely the end o' it a* 
 maun be peace. 
 
 " A've often thocht that in the auld days 
 baith the man on the rack and the inqueesitor 
 himself might be gude men and accepted o' 
 God, and maybe the inqueesitor suffered mair 
 than the martyr. A'm thinkin', Maister Car- 
 michael, that it's been hardest on Lachlan." 
 
 The minister's head was buried in his hands, 
 but his heart was with Marget. 
 
 " It's a strange buik the Bible, and no the buik 
 we wud hae made, tae judge by oor bit creeds and 
 confessions. It's like a head o' aits in the harvest 
 time. There's the ear that hauds the grain and 
 keeps it safe, and that's the history, and there's 
 often no mickle nutriment in it ; then there's the 
 corn lying in the ear, which is the Evangel frae 
 Eden tae Revelation, and that is the bread o' the 
 soul. But the corn maun be threshed first and the 
 cauf [chaff] cleaned aff. It's a bonnie sicht tae see 
 the pure grain fallin' like a rinnin' burn on the 
 corn-room floor, and a glint o' the sun through the 
 window turning it intae gold. But the stour [dust] 
 
6 2 TRA NSFORMA TION OF LA CHL A N CA MPBELL. 
 
 o' the cauf room is mair than onybody can abide, 
 and the cauf's worth naethin' when the corn's 
 awa." 
 
 " Ye mean," said the minister, " that my study 
 is the threshin' mill, and that some of the chaff has 
 got into the pulpit." 
 
 " Yir no offended," and Marget's voice trem- 
 bled. 
 
 Then the minister lifted his head and laughed 
 aloud with joy, while a swift flash of humour lit up 
 Marget's face. 
 
 " You've been the voice of God to me this day, 
 Mrs. Howe. But if I give up my ' course,' the 
 people will misunderstand, for I know everything I 
 gave was true, and I would give it all again, if it 
 were expedient." 
 
 " Nae fear, Maister Carmichael ; naebody misun- 
 derstands that luves, and the fouk all luve ye, and 
 the man that hauds ye dearest is Lachlan Camp- 
 bell. I saw the look in his een that canna be mis- 
 ta'en." 
 
 " I'll go to him this very day," and the minister 
 leaped to his feet. 
 
 " Ye'ill no regret it," said Marget, " for God 
 will give ye peace." 
 
 Lachlan did not see the minister coming, for he 
 was busy with a lamb that had lost its way and 
 hurt itself. Carmichael marked with a growing 
 tenderness at his heart how gently the old man 
 washed and bound up the wounded leg, all the 
 time crooning to the frightened creature in the 
 sweet Gaelic speech, and also how he must needs 
 
A GRAND INQUISITOR. 83 
 
 give the lamb a drink of warm milk before he set 
 it free. 
 
 When he rose from his work of mercy, he faced 
 the minister. 
 
 For an instant Lachlan hesitated, and then at 
 the look on Carmichael's face he held out both his 
 hands. 
 
 " This iss a goot day for me, and I bid you ten 
 thousand welcomes." 
 
 But the minister took the first word. 
 
 " You and I, Lachlan, have not seen eye to eye 
 about some things lately, and I am not here to 
 argue which is nearer the truth, because perhaps 
 we may always differ on some lesser matters. But 
 once I spoke rudely to you, and often I have spoken 
 unwisely in my sermons. You are an old man and 
 I am a young, and I ask you to forgive me and to 
 pray that both of us may be kept near the heart of 
 our Lord, whom we love, and who loves us." 
 
 No man can be so courteous as a Celt, and 
 Lachlan was of the pure Highland breed, kindest 
 of friends, fiercest of foes. 
 
 " You hef done a beautiful deed this day, Maister 
 Carmichael ; and the grace of God must hef been 
 exceeding abundant in your heart. It iss this man 
 that asks your forgiveness, for I wass full of pride, 
 and did not speak to you as an old man should; 
 but God iss my witness that I would hef plucked 
 out my right eye for your sake. You will say 
 every word God gives you, and I will take as much 
 as God gives me, and there will be a covenant 
 between us as long as we live." 
 
84 TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 They knelt together on the earthen floor of that 
 Highland cottage, the old school and the new, 
 before one Lord, and the only difference in their 
 prayers was that the young man prayed they might 
 keep the faith once delivered unto the saints, while 
 the burden of the old man's prayer was that they 
 might be led into all truth. 
 
 Lachlan's portion that evening ought to have 
 been the slaying of Sisera, from the Book of Judges, 
 but instead he read, to Flora's amaaement it was 
 the night before she left her home the thirteenth 
 chapter of ist Corinthians, and twice he repeated to 
 himself, " Now we see through a glass darkly, but 
 then face to face." 
 
n. 
 
 HIS BITTER SHAME, 
 
 THE Free Kirk people were very proud of theif 
 vestry because the Established Church had none, 
 and because it was reasonably supposed to be the 
 smallest in Scotland. When the minister, who 
 touched five feet eleven, and the beadle, who was 
 three inches taller, assembled for the procession, 
 with the precentor, a man of fair proportions, there 
 was no waste ground in that room, and any mes- 
 senger from the church door had to be selected 
 with judgment. " Step up, Airchie, man, tae the 
 vestry," Burnbrae would say to the one under- 
 sized man in Drumtochty, " and tell the minister 
 no tae forget the Jews. Ye can birse [push] in fine, 
 but it wud beat me to get by the door. It's a bon- 
 nie bit room, but three fouk stannin* makes it con- 
 trakit for another man." 
 
 It was eight feet by eight, and consisted largely 
 of two doors and a fireplace, and its chief glory 
 was a portrait of Dr. Chalmers, whose face, dimly 
 seen in the light of the lamp, was a charter of 
 authority, and raised the proceedings to the level 
 of history. Lockers on either side of the mantel- 
 piece contained the church library, which abounded 
 
86 TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 in the lives of Scottish worthies, and was never 
 lightly disturbed. Where there was neither grate 
 nor door, a narrow board ran along the wall, on 
 which it was simply a point of honour to seat the 
 twelve deacons, who met once a month to raise 
 the Sustentation Fund by modest, heroic sacrifices 
 of hard-working people, and to keep the slates on 
 the church roof in winter. When they had nothing 
 else to do, they talked about the stove which " came 
 out in '43," and, when it was in good humour, 
 would raise the temperature in winter one degree 
 above freezing. Seating the court was a work of 
 art, and could only be achieved by the repression 
 of the smaller men, who looked out from the loop- 
 holes of retreat, the projection of bigger men on to 
 their neighbours' knees, and the absolute elimina- 
 tion of Archie Moncur, whose voice made motions 
 on temperance from the lowest depths. Netherton 
 was always the twelfth man to arrive, and nothing 
 could be done till he was safely settled. Only 
 some six inches were reserved at the end of the 
 bench, and he was a full sitter, but he had dis- 
 covered a trick of sitting sideways and screwing 
 his leg against the opposite wall, that secured the 
 court as well as himself in their places on the 
 principle of a compressed spring. When this 
 operation was completed, Burnbrae used to say to 
 the minister, who sat in the middle on a cane chair 
 before the tiniest of tables the living was small, 
 and the ministers never grew fat till they left 
 
 "We're fine and comfortable noo, Moderator, 
 and ye can begin business as sune as ye like." 
 
HIS BITTER SHAME. 87 
 
 As there were only six elders they could sit in 
 state, besides leaving a vacant space for any peni- 
 tents who came to confess their sins and receive 
 absolution, or some catechumen who wished to be 
 admitted to the Sacrament. Carmichael used to 
 say that a meeting of Session affected his imagina- 
 tion, and would have made an interior for Rem- 
 brandt. On one side of the table sat the men who 
 represented the piety of the district, and were sup- 
 posed to be " far ben " in the Divine fellowship, 
 and on the other some young girl in her loneliness, 
 who wrung her handkerchief in terror of this 
 dreaded spiritual court, and hoped within her 
 heart that no elder would ask her " effectual call- 
 ing " from the Shorter Catechism ; while the little 
 lamp, hanging from the ceiling and swinging 
 gently in the wind that had free access from every 
 airt, cast a fitful light on the fresh, tearful face of 
 the girl and the hard, weather-beaten countenances 
 of the elders, composed into a serious gravity not 
 untouched by tenderness. They were little else 
 than labouring men, but no one was elected to 
 that court unless he had given pledges of godli- 
 ness, and they bore themselves as men who had 
 the charge of souls. 
 
 The little Sanhedrim had within it the school of 
 Hillel, which was swayed by mercy, and its Rabbi 
 was Burnbrae ; and the school of Shammai, whose 
 rule was inflexible justice, and its Rabbi was 
 Lachlan Campbell. Burnbrae was a big-hearted 
 man, with a fatherly manner, and had a genius 
 for dealing with " young communicants." 
 
88 TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 " Weel, Jessie, we're awfu' pleased tae think yer 
 gaein' forrit, and the Dominie wes tellin' me juist 
 last week that ye did yir work at schule graund, 
 and knew yir Bible frae end tae end. 
 
 " It '11 no be easy to speir fask] the like o' you 
 questions, but ye mind Abraham, Jessie." 
 
 " Ou, ay I " and Jessie is all alert, although she is 
 afraid to look up. 
 
 " What was the name o* his wife, noo ? " 
 
 " Sarah, an* their son was Isaac." 
 
 " That's richt, and what aboot Isaac's wife ? " 
 
 " Isaac mairrit Rebecca, and they hed twa 
 sons, Jacob and Esau," and the girl takes a 
 shy glance at the honest elder, and begins to feel 
 at home. 
 
 " Domsie wesna far wrang, a f see, but it's no 
 possible ye cud tell us the names o' Jacob's sons ; 
 it's maybe no fair tae ask sich a teuch question," 
 knowing all the while that this was a test case of 
 Domsie's. 
 
 When Jessie reached Benjamin, Burnbrae could 
 not contain himself. 
 
 " It's nae use trying to stick Jessie wi* the 
 Bible, neebers ; we 'ill see what she can dae wi* 
 the Carritches [Catechism]. Yir no the lassie 
 that said the questions frae beginning tae end 
 wi' twa mistak's, are ye ? " 
 
 Yes, she was, and dared him to come on, for 
 Jessie had forgotten the minister and all the 
 Session. 
 
 " The elders wud like tae hear ' What is the 
 Lord's Supper ? ' " 
 
HIS BITTER SHAME. 89 
 
 " That's it ; and, Jessie, ma woman, gie's the 
 ' worthy receiving.' " 
 
 Jessie achieves another triumph, and is now 
 ready for anything. 
 
 " Ye hae the Word weel stored in yir mind, 
 lassie, and ye maun keep it in yir life, and dinna 
 forget that Christ's a gude Maister." 
 
 " A '11 dae ma best," and Jessie declared that 
 Burnbrae had been as kind as if she had been 
 "his ain bairn," and that she " wasna feared 
 ava." But her trial is not over ; the worst is 
 to come. 
 
 Lachlan began where Burnbrae ended, and 
 very soon had Jessie on the rack. 
 
 " How old will you be ? " 
 
 " Auchteen next Martinmas." 
 
 " And why will you be coming to the Sacra- 
 ment ? " 
 
 " Ma mither thocht it was time," with a threat- 
 ening of tears as she looked at the face in the 
 corner. 
 
 " Ye will maybe tell the Session what hass been 
 your ' lawwork ' and how long ye haf been at 
 Sinai." 
 
 " A* dinna ken what yir askin'. I was never 
 oot o' Drumtochty," and Jessie breaks down 
 utterly. 
 
 " A* dinna think, Moderator, we ocht tae ask 
 sic questions," broke in Burnbrae, who could 
 not see a little one put to confusion ; " an* I 
 canna mind them in the Gospels. There's ae 
 commandment Jessie keeps weel, as a' can tes- 
 
QO TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL* 
 
 teefy, and that's the fifth, for there's no a better 
 dochter in Drumtochty. A* move, Moderator, 
 she get her token; dinna greet, puir woman, for 
 ye've dune weel, and the Session's rael satisfeed." 
 
 " It wass Dr. John's mark I wass trying the girl 
 by," explained Lachlan after Jessie had gone away 
 comforted. " And it iss a goot mark, oh, yes ! and 
 very searching. 
 
 " Ye will maybe not know what it iss, Moder- 
 ator," and Lachlan regarded the minister with 
 austere superiority, for it was the winter of the 
 feud. 
 
 No, he did not, nor any of the Session, being all 
 douce Scotchmen, except Donald Menzies, who was 
 at home fighting the devil. 
 
 " It iss broken bones, and Dr. John did preach 
 three hours upon it at Auchindarroch Fast, and 
 there wass not many went to the Sacrament on 
 that occasion. 
 
 " Broken bones iss a fine mark to begin with, 
 and the next will be doubts. But there iss a 
 deeper," continued Lachlan, warming to his sub- 
 ject; " oh, yes ! far deeper, and I heard of it when I 
 wass North for the sheep, and I will not be forget- 
 ting that day with Janet Macfarlane. 
 
 " 1 knew she wass a professor, and I wass look- 
 ing for her marks. But it wass not for me to hef 
 been searching her ; it wass that woman that 
 should hef been trying me." 
 
 A profound silence wrapt the Session. 
 
 " ' Janet,' I said, ' hef ye had many doubts ? ' 
 
 " ' Doubts, Lachlan ? was that what you asked ? 
 
HIS BITTER SHAME. QI 
 
 I hef had desertions, and one will be for six 
 m0nths/ 
 
 " So I saw she wass far beyond me, for I dare 
 not be speaking about desertions." 
 
 Two minutes after the minister pronounced the 
 benediction, and no one had offered any remark in 
 the interval. 
 
 It seemed to the elders that Lachlan dealt hardly 
 with young people and those that had gone astray, 
 but they learned one evening that his justice had 
 at least no partiality. Burnbrae said afterwards 
 that Lachlan "looked like a ghaist comin* in at 
 the door," but he sat in silence in the shadow, and 
 no one marked the agony on his face till the end. 
 
 " If that iss all the business, Moderator, I hef to 
 bring a case of discipline before the Session, and 
 ask them to do their duty. It iss known to me 
 that a young woman who hass been a member of 
 this church hass left her home and gone into the 
 far country. There will be no use in summoning 
 her to appear before the Session, for she will never 
 be seen again in this parish. I move that she be 
 cut off from the roll, and her name iss" and 
 Lachlan's voice broke, but in an instant he re- 
 covered himself " her name iss Flora Campbell." 
 
 Carmichael confessed to me that he was stricken 
 dumb, and that Lachlan's ashen face held him 
 with an awful fascination. 
 
 It was Burnbrae that first found a voice, and 
 showed that night the fine delicacy of heart that 
 may be hidden behind a plain exterior. 
 
 " Moderator, this is a terrible calamity that hes 
 
92 TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 aefaen oor brither, and a'm feelin' as if a' bed lost 
 a bairn o' my ane, for a sweeter lassie didna cross 
 oor kirk door. Nane o' us want tae know what lies 
 happened or where she hes gane, and no a word o' 
 this wull cross oor lips. Her faither's dune mair 
 than cud be expeckit o' mortal man, and noo we 
 have oor duty. It's no the way o' this Session tae 
 cut aff ony member o' the flock at a stroke, and we 
 'ill no begin with Flora Campbell. A* move, Mod- 
 erator, that her case be left tae her faither and yer- 
 sel', and oor neebur may depend on it that Flora's 
 name and his ain will be mentioned in oor prayers, 
 ilka mornin' an* nicht, till the gude Shepherd o' the 
 sheep brings her hame." 
 
 Burnbrae paused, and then, with tears in his 
 voice men do not weep in Drumtochty " With 
 the Lord there is mercy, and with Him is plente- 
 ous redemption." 
 
 The minister took the old man's arm and led 
 him into the manse, and set him in the big chair 
 by the study fire. " Thank God, Lachlan, we #re 
 friends now ; tell me about it as if I were your son 
 and Flora's brother." 
 
 The father took a letter out of an inner pocket 
 with a trembling hand, and this is what Carmichael 
 read by the light of the lamp : 
 
 " DEAR FATHER: When this reaches you I will 
 be in London, and not worthy to cross your door. 
 Do not be always angry with me, and try to forgive 
 sne, for you will not be troubled any more by 
 tiy dancing or dressing. Do not think that I will 
 
HIS BITTER SHAME. 93 
 
 be blaming you, for you have been a good father 
 to me, and said what you would be considering 
 right, but it is not easy for a man to understand a 
 girl. Oh, if I had had my mother, then she would 
 have understood me, and I would not have crossed 
 you. Forget poor Flora's foolishness, but you will 
 not forget her, and maybe you will still pray for 
 me. Take care of the geraniums for my sake, and 
 give milk to the lamb that you called after me. I 
 will never see you again, in this world or the next, 
 nor my mother . . . [here the letter was much 
 blotted]. When I think that there will be no one 
 to look after you, and have the fire burning for you 
 on winter nights, I will be rising to come back. 
 But it is too late, too late ! Oh, the disgrace I will 
 be bringing on you in the glen ! 
 
 " Your unworthy daughter, 
 
 " FLORA CAMPBELL." 
 
 " This is a fiery trial, Lachlan, and I cannot even 
 imagine what you are suffering. But do not de- 
 spair, for that is not the letter of a bad girl. Per- 
 haps she was impatient, and has been led astray. 
 But Flora is good at heart, and you must not think 
 she is gone forever." 
 
 Lachlan groaned, the first moan he had made, 
 and then he tottered to his feet. 
 
 " You are fery kind, Maister Carmichael, and so 
 wass Burnbrae, and I will be thankful to you all, 
 but you do not understand. Oh, no ! you do not 
 understand." Lachlin caught hold of a chair and 
 looked the minister in the face. 
 
94 TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 " She hass gone, and there will be no coming 
 back. You would not take her name from the roll 
 of the church, and I will not be meddling with that 
 book. But I hef blotted out her name from my 
 Bible, where her mother's name iss written and 
 mine. She has wrought confusion in Israel and in 
 an elder's house, and I .... I hef no daughter. 
 But I loved her ; she nefer knew how I loved her v 
 for her mother would be looking at me from her 
 eyes." 
 
 The minister walked with Lachlan to the foot of 
 the hill on which his cottage stood, and after they 
 had shaken hands in silence, he watched the old 
 man's figure in the cold moonlight till he disap- 
 peared into the forsaken home, where the fire had 
 gone out on the hearth, and neither love nor hope 
 was waiting for a broken heart. 
 
 The railway did not think it worth while to come 
 to Drumtochty, and we were cut off from the 
 lowlands by miles of forest, so our manners re- 
 tained the fashion of the former age. Six elders, 
 besides the minister, knew the tragedy of Flora 
 Campbell, and never opened their lips. Mrs. Mac- 
 Fadyen, who was our newspaper, and understood 
 her duty, refused to pry into this secret. The pity 
 of the glen went out to Lachlan, but no one even 
 looked a question as he sat alone in his pew or 
 came down on a Saturday afternoon to the village 
 shop for his week's provisions. London friends 
 thought me foolish about my adopted home, but I 
 asked them whether they could find such perfect 
 good manners in Belgravia, and they were silent. 
 
HIS BITTER SHAME. 9$ 
 
 My Drumtochty neighbours would have played an 
 awkward part in a drawing-room, but never have I 
 seen in all my wanderings men and women of 
 truer courtesy or tenderer heart. 
 
 " It gars ma hert greet tae see him," Mrs. Mac- 
 Fadyen said to me one day, " sae booed an' dis- 
 jackit, him that wes that snod [tidy] and firm. 
 His hair's turned white in a month, and he's awa* 
 tae naething in his claithes. But least said is sun- 
 est mended. It's no richt tae interfere wi' an* 
 other's sorrow, an' it wad be an awfu' sin tae 
 misca' a young lassie. We maun juist houp that 
 Flora '11 sune come back, for if she disna Lachlan 
 '11 no be lang wi's. He's sayin' naethin', and a* 
 respeck him for't; but onybody can see that his 
 hert is breakin'." 
 
 We were helpless till Marget Howe met Lach- 
 lan in the shop and read his sorrow at a glance. 
 She went home to Whinnie Knowe in great distress. 
 
 " It wes waesome tae see the auld mon githerin* 
 his bit things wi' a shakin' hand, and speakin' tae 
 me aboot the weather, and a f the time his eyes 
 were sayin', ' Flora, Flora ! ' " 
 
 " Whar div ye think the young hizzie is, 
 Marget ? " 
 
 " Naebody needs tae know, Weelum, an' ye 
 maunna speak that way, for whatever's come ower 
 her, she's dear to Lachlan and tae God. 
 
 " It's laid on me tae veesit Lachlan, for a'm 
 thinking 'oor Father didna comfort us withoot 
 expeckin' that we wud comfort other fouk." 
 
 When Marget came round the corner of Lach- 
 
9 6 TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 lan's cottage, she found Flora's plants laid out 
 in the sun, and her father watering them on his 
 knees. One was ready to die, and for it he had 
 made a shelter with his plaid. 
 
 He was taken unawares, but in a minute he was 
 leading Marget in with hospitable words. 
 
 " It iss kind of you to come to an old man's 
 house, Mistress Howe, and it iss a fery warm day. 
 You will not care for speerits, but I am fery goot 
 at making tea." 
 
 Marget was not as other women, and she spoke 
 at once. 
 
 " Maister Campbell, ye will believe that I hev 
 come in the love of God, and because we hev baith 
 been afflickit. I had ae son, and he is gone ; ye 
 had a dochter, and she is gone. A' ken where 
 George is, and am sateesfied. A' doot sairly yir 
 sorrow is deeper than mine." 
 
 " Would to God that she wass lying in the kirk- 
 yard ; but I will not speak of her. She iss not 
 anything to me this day. See, I will show you 
 what I hef done, for she hass been a black shame 
 to her name." 
 
 He opened the Bible, and there was Flora's 
 name scored with wavering strokes, but the ink 
 had run as if it had been mingled with tears. 
 
 Marget's heart burned within her at the sight, 
 and perhaps she could hardly make allowance for 
 Lachlan's blood and theology. 
 
 " This is what ye hev dune, and ye let a woman 
 see yir wark. Ye are an auld man, and in sore 
 travail, but a* tell ye before God ye hae the greater 
 
HIS BITTER SHAME. 97 
 
 shame. Juist twenty years o' age this spring, and 
 her mither dead ! Nae woman to watch over her, 
 and she wandered frae the fold, and a* ye can dae 
 is to tak her oot o' yir Bible. Wae's me if oor 
 Father had blotted out oor names frae the Book o' 
 Life when we left His hoose. But He sent His 
 ain Son to seek us, an* a weary road He cam. A' 
 tell ye, a man wudna leave a sheep tae perish as ye 
 hae cast aff yir ain bairn. Yir worse than Simon 
 the Pharisee, for Mary was nae kin tae him. Puir 
 Flora, tae hae sic a father ! " 
 
 " Who will be telling you that I wass a Phari- 
 see ? " cried Lachlan, quivering in every limb, and 
 grasping Marget 's arm. 
 
 " Forgie me, Lachlan, forgie me ! It was the 
 thocht o' the misguided lassie carried me, for a' 
 didna come tae upbraid ye." 
 
 But Lachlan had sunk into a chair and had for- 
 gotten her. 
 
 " She hass the word, and God will hef smitten 
 the pride of my heart, for it iss Simon that I am. 
 I wass hard on my child, and I wass hard on the 
 minister, and there wass none like me. The Lord 
 has laid my name in the dust, and I will be angry 
 with her. But she iss the scapegoat for my sins, 
 and hass gone into the desert. God be merciful 
 to me a sinner ! " And then Marget understood 
 no more, for the rest was in Gaelic ; but she heard 
 Flora's name with another she took to be her 
 mother's twined together. 
 
 So Marget knew it would be well with Lachlan 
 yet, and she wrote this letter : 
 
Q8 TRAN-SFORMA TION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 " MY DEAR LASSIE : Ye ken that I wes aye yir 
 freend, and I am wrtfng this tae say that yir father 
 luves ye mair than ever, and is wearing oot his hert 
 for the sicht o' yir face. Come back, or he'll dee 
 thro* want o' his bairn. The glen is bright and 
 bonny noo, for the purple heather is on the hills, 
 and doon below the gowden corn, wi' bluebell 
 and poppy flowers between. Naebody 'ill ask ye 
 where ye've been, or onything else ; there's no a 
 bairn in the place that's no wearying tae see ye ; 
 and, Flora, lassie, if there will be sic gledness in 
 oor wee glen when ye come hame, what think ye 
 o' the joy in the Father's Hoose ? Start the 
 verra meenute that ye get this letter; yir father 
 bids ye come, and I'm writing this in place o' yir 
 mother. 
 
 " MARGET HOWE." 
 
 Marget went out to tend the flowers while Lach- 
 lan read the letter, and when he gave it back the 
 address was written in his own hand. 
 
 He went as far as the crest of the hill with Mar- 
 get, and watched her on the way to the post- 
 office till she was only a speck upon the road. 
 
 When he entered his cottage the shadows were 
 beginning to fall, and he remembered it would 
 soon be night. 
 
 " It iss in the dark that Flora will be coming, 
 and she must know that her father iss waiting 
 for her." 
 
 He cleaned and trimmed with anxious hand a 
 that was kept for show, and had never been 
 
HIS BITTER SHAME. 99 
 
 used. Then he selected from his books Edwards' 
 " Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God," and 
 " Coles on the Divine Sovereignty," and on them 
 he laid the large family Bible out of which Flora's 
 name had been blotted. This was the stand on 
 which he set the lamp in the window, and every 
 night till Flora returned its light shone down the 
 steep path that ascended to her home, like the 
 Divine Love from the open door of our Father's 
 House. 
 
III. 
 
 LIKE AS A FATHER. 
 
 IT was only by physical force and a free use of 
 personalities that the Kildrummie passengers could 
 be entrained at the Junction, and the Drumtochty 
 men were always the last to capitulate. 
 
 They watched the main-line train that had 
 brought them from Muirtown disappear in the 
 distance, and then broke into groups to discuss 
 the cattle sale at leisure, while Peter, the factotum 
 of the little Kildrummie branch, drove his way 
 through their midst with offensive pieces of lug- 
 gage, and abused them by name without respect 
 of persons. 
 
 " It's maist aggravatin', Drumsheugh, 'at ye'il* 
 stand there girnin' at the prices, as if ye were a 
 puir cottar body that hed selt her ae coo, and us 
 twal meenutes late. Man, get intae yer kerridge ; 
 he'ill no be fat that buys frae you, a'll wager." 
 
 " Peter's in an awfu' feery-farry [excitement] 
 the nicht, neeburs," Drumsheugh would respond, 
 after a long pause ; " ye vvud think he wes a mail 
 gaird tae hear him speak. Mind ye, a'm no gain' 
 tae shove ahint if the engine sticks, for I hae na 
 time. He needs a bit nip," and Drumsheugh 
 
LIKE AS A 
 
 settles himself in his seat, " or else there would be 
 nae leevin' wi' him." 
 
 Peter escaped this winged shaft, for he had de- 
 tected a woman in the remote darkness. 
 
 " Keep's a', wumman, what are ye stravagin* 
 about there for out o' a'body's sicht ? a* near set 
 aff withoot ye." 
 
 Then Peter recognised her face, and his manner 
 softened of a sudden. 
 
 "Come awa', lassie, come awa' ; a* didna ken 
 ye at the moment, but a* heard ye hed been 
 veesitin' in the sooth. 
 
 " The third is terrible full wi' thae Drumtochty 
 lads, and ye'ill hear naething but Drumsheugh's 
 stirks ; ye'ill maybe be as handy in oor second." 
 And Flora Campbell stepped in unseen. 
 
 Between the Junction and Kildrummie Peter 
 was accustomed to wander along the footboard, 
 collecting tickets and identifying passengers. He 
 was generally in fine trim on the way up, and took 
 ample revenge for the insults of the departure. 
 But it was supposed that Peter had taken Drum- 
 sheugh's withering sarcasm to heart, for he at- 
 tached himself to the second that night, and was 
 invisible to the expectant third till the last 
 moment. 
 
 "Ye've hed a lang journey, Miss Cammil, and 
 ye maun be nearly dune wi' tire ; juist ye sit still 
 till the fouk get awa', and the guid wife and me 
 would be prood if ye took a cup o' tea wi's afore 
 ye stairted hame. A'll come for ye as sune as a* 
 get the van emptied and ma little trokes feenished." 
 
IOJ4 TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 Peter hurried up to his cottage in such hot haste 
 that his wife came out in great alarm. 
 
 " Na, there's naethin' wrang; it's the opposite 
 way this nicht. Ye mind o' Flora Cammil that 
 left her father, and nane o' the Drumtochty fouk 
 wud say onything aboot her. Weel, she's in the 
 train, and a've asked her up tae rest, and she was 
 gled tae come, puir thing. Sae gie her a couthy 
 welcome, wumman, and the best in the hoose, for 
 oors 'ill be the first roof she'ill be under on her 
 way hame." 
 
 Our women do not kiss one another like the city 
 ladies; but the motherly grip of Mary Bruce's 
 hand sent a thrill to Flora's heart. 
 
 " Noo a' ca f this real kind o' ye, Miss Cammil, 
 tae come in without ceremony, and a'd be terrible 
 pleased if ye would dae it ony time yer traivellin'. 
 The rail is by ordinar' fateegin,' and a cup o' tea 
 'ill set ye up," and Mary had Flora in the best 
 chair, and was loading her plate with homely 
 dainties. 
 
 Peter would speak of nothing but the new engine 
 that was coming, and was to place the Kildrummie 
 branch beyond ridicule forever, and on this great 
 event he continued without intermission till he 
 parted with Flora on the edge of the pine woods 
 that divided Drumtochty from Kildrummie. 
 
 " Gude nicht tae ye, Miss Cammil, and thank ye 
 again for yir veesit. Bring the auld man wi' ye 
 next time ye're passin', though a'm feared ye've 
 been deived [deafened] wi' the engine." 
 
 Flora took Peter's hand, that was callous and 
 
LIKE AS A FATHER. 103 
 
 rough with the turning of brakes and the coupling 
 of chains. 
 
 " It wass not your new engine you wass thinking 
 about this night, Peter Bruce, but a poor girl that 
 iss in trouble. I hef not the words, but I will be 
 remembering your house ; oh, yes I as long as I 
 live/' 
 
 Twice Peter stood on his way home ; the first 
 time he slapped his leg and chuckled : 
 
 " Sail, it was gey clever o' me ; a hale kerridge 
 o' Drumtochty lads, and no ane o' them ever hed 
 a glint o' her." 
 
 At the second stoppage he drew his hand across 
 his eyes. 
 
 " Puir lassie, a* houp her father 'ill be kind tae 
 her, for she's sair broken, and looks liker deith than 
 life/' 
 
 No one can desire a sweeter walk than through a 
 Scottish pine wood in late September, where you 
 breathe the healing resinous air, and the ground is 
 crisp and springy beneath your feet, and gentle ani- 
 mals dart away on every side, and here and there you 
 come on an open space with a pool and a brake of 
 gorse. Many a time on market days Flora had gone 
 singing through these woods, plucking a posy of 
 wild flowers and finding a mirror in every pool, as 
 young girls will : but now she trembled and was 
 afraid. The rustling of the trees in the darkness, 
 the hooting of an owl, the awful purity of the 
 moonlight in the glades, the cold sheen of the 
 water, were to her troubled conscience omens of 
 judgment. Had it not been for the kindness of 
 
104 TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 Peter Bruce, which was a pledge of human for- 
 giveness, there would have been no heart in her to 
 dare that wood, and it was with a sob of relief she 
 escaped from the shadow and looked upon the old 
 glen once more, bathed from end to end in the 
 light of the harvest moon. Beneath her ran our 
 little river, spanned by its quaint old bridge ; away 
 on the right the Parish Kirk peeped out from a 
 clump of trees ; halfway up the glen the clachan 
 lay surrounded by patches 01 corn; and beyond 
 were the moors, with a shepherd's cottage that 
 held her heart. Two hours ago squares of light 
 told of warmth and welcome within ; but now, as 
 Flora passed one house after another, it seemed as 
 if everyone she knew was dead, and she was for- 
 gotten in her misery. Her heart grew cold, and 
 she longed to lie down and die, when she caught 
 the gleam of a lighted window. Someone was 
 living still to know she had repented, and she 
 knelt down among the flowers with her ear to the 
 glass to hear the sound of a human voice. Archie 
 Moncur had come home late from a far-away job, 
 but he must needs have worship with his sister 
 before they went to bed, and well did he choose 
 the psalm that night. Flora's tears rained upon 
 the mignonette as the two old people sang : 
 
 " When Sion's bondage God turned back, 
 
 As men that dreamed were we, 
 Then filled with laughter was our mouth, 
 Our tongue with melody ; " 
 
 while the fragrance of the flowers went up as 
 incense unto God. 
 
LIKE AS A FATHER. 105 
 
 All the way along the glen the last words of the 
 psalm still rang in her ears, " Rejoicing shall 
 return," but as she touched the footpath to her 
 home, courage failed her. Marget had written 
 for her dead mother, but no one could speak with 
 authority for her father. She knew the pride of 
 his religion and his iron principles. If he refused 
 her entrance, then it had been better for her 
 to have died in London. A turn of the path 
 brought her within sight of the cottage, and her 
 heart came into her mouth, for the kitchen window 
 was a blaze of light. One moment she feared 
 Lachlan might be ill, but in the next she understood, 
 and in the greatness of her joy she ran the rest of 
 the way. When she reached the door, her strength 
 had departed, and she was not able to knock. But 
 there was no need, for the clogs, who never forget 
 nor cast off, were bidding her welcome with short 
 joyous yelps of delight, and she could hear her father 
 feeling for the latch, which for once could not be 
 found, and saying nothing but " Flora, Flora J" 
 
 She had made up some kind of speech, but the 
 only word she ever said was " Father," for Lachlan, 
 who had never even kissed her all the days of her 
 youth, clasped her in his arms and sobbed out 
 blessings over her head, while the dogs licked her 
 hands with their soft, kindly tongues. 
 
 " It iss a pity you hef not the Gaelic," Flora said 
 to Marget afterwards ; " it iss the best of all 
 languages for loving. There are fifty words for 
 darling, and my father would be calling me every 
 one that night I came home." 
 
106 TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 Lachlan was so carried with joy, and firelight is 
 so hopeful, that he had not seen the signs of sore 
 sickness on Flora's face, but the morning light un- 
 deceived him, and he was sadly dashed. 
 
 " You will be fery tired after your long journey, 
 Flora, and it iss good for you to rest. There iss a 
 man in the clachan I am wanting to see, and he 
 will maybe be comin' back with me." 
 
 When Lachlan reached his place of prayer, he 
 lay on the ground and cried, " Have mercy on me, 
 O Lord, and spare her for thy servant's sake, and 
 let me not lose her after Thou hast brought her 
 back and hast opened my heart. . . Take her not 
 till she hass seen that I love her. . . Give me 
 time to do her kindness for the past wherein I 
 oppressed her. . . O, turn away Thy judgment 
 on my hardness, and let not the child suffer for her 
 father's sins." Then he arose and hastened for 
 the doctor. 
 
 It was afternoon before Dr. MacLure could 
 come, but the very sight of his face, which was 
 as the sun in its strength, let light into the room 
 where Lachlan sat at the bedside holding Flora's 
 hand, and making woeful pretense that she was 
 not ill. 
 
 "Weel, Flora, yeVe got back frae yir veesits, 
 and a' tell ye we've missed ye maist terrible. 
 A* doot thae sooth country fouk haena been 
 feeding ye ower weel, or maybe it was the toon 
 air. It never agrees wi' me. A'm half chokit a* 
 the time a'm in Glesgie, and as for London, there's 
 ower mony fouk tae the square yaird for health." 
 
LIKE AS A FATHER. toy 
 
 All the time he was busy at his work, and no 
 man could do it better or quicker, although the 
 outside of him was not encouraging. 
 
 " Lachlan, what are ye traivellin' in and oot 
 there for with a face that wud sour milk ? What 
 ails ye, man? ye're surely no imaginin' Flora's 
 gaein' to leave ye ? 
 
 " Lord's sake, it's maist provokin' that if 
 a body hes a bit whup o' illness in Drum- 
 tochty, their friends tak tae propheseein' deith." 
 
 Lachlan had crept over to Flora's side, and 
 both were waiting. 
 
 " Na, na ; ye ken a* never tell lees like the 
 graund ceety doctors, and a'll warrant Flora 'ill 
 be in kirk afore Martinmas, and kiltin' up the 
 braes as hardy as a hielan' sheltie by the new 
 year." 
 
 Flora puts an arm round her father's neck, 
 and draws down his face to hers, but the doctor 
 is looking another way. 
 
 " Dinna fash wi' medicine ; gie her plenty o* 
 fresh milk and plenty o' air. There's nae leevin, 
 for a doctor wi' that Drumtochty air; it hasna 
 a marra in Scotland. It starts frae the Moray 
 Firth and sweeps doon Badenoch, and comes 
 ower the moor o' Rannoch and across the Gram- 
 pians. There's the salt o' the sea, and the caller 
 air o' the hills, and the smell o' the heather, and 
 the bloom o' mony a flower in't. If there's nae 
 disease in the organs o' the body, a puff o' Drum- 
 tochty air wud bring back a man frae the gates 
 o' deith." 
 
IDS TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 " You hef made two hearts glad this day, Dr. 
 MacLure," said Lachlan, outside the door, "and 
 I am calling you Barnabas." 
 
 "Ye've ca'd me waur names than that in yir 
 time," and the doctor mounted his horse. " It's 
 dune me a warld o' guid tae see Flora in her hame 
 again, and I'll gie Marget Howe a cry in passin' 
 and send her up tae hae a crack, for there's no a 
 wiser wumman in the glen." 
 
 When Marget came, Flora told her the history 
 of her letter. 
 
 " It wass a beautiful night in London, but I will 
 be thinking that there iss no living person caring 
 whether I die or live, and I wass considering how 
 I could die, for there iss nothing so hopeless as to 
 hef no friend in a great city. It iss often that I hef 
 been alone on the moor, and no man within miles, 
 but I wass never lonely; oh, no! I had plenty 
 of good company. I would sit down beside a 
 burn, and the trout will swim out from below a 
 stone, and the cattle will come to drink, and the 
 fnuirfowl will be crying to each other, and the 
 sheep will be bleating, oh, yes ! and there are the 
 bees all round, and a string of wild ducks above 
 your head. It iss a busy place, a moor; and a safe 
 place too, for there iss not one of the animals will 
 hurt you. No, the big highlanders will only look 
 at you and go away to their pasture. But it iss 
 weary to be in London and no one to speak a kind 
 word to you, and I will be looking at the crowd 
 that iss always passing, and I will not see one 
 kent face, and when I looked in at the lighted 
 
LIKE AS A FATHER. 109 
 
 windows the people were all sitting round the 
 table, but there wass no place for me. Millions 
 and millions of people, and not one to say * Flora/ 
 and not one sore heart if I died that night. Then 
 a strange thing happened, as you will be consider- 
 ing, but it iss good to be a Highlander, for we see 
 visions. You maybe know that a wounded deer 
 will try to hide herself, and I crept into the shadow 
 of a church, and wept. Then the people and the 
 noise and the houses passed away like the mist on 
 the hill, and I wass walking to the kirk with my 
 father, oh, yes ! and I saw you all in your places, 
 and I heard the Psalms, and I could see through 
 the window the green fields and the trees on the 
 edge of the moor. And I saw my home, with the 
 dogs before the door, and the flowers that I 
 planted, and the lamb coming for her milk, and 
 I heard myself singing, and I awoke. But there 
 wass singing, oh, yes ! and beautiful too, for the 
 dark church was open, and the light wass falling 
 over my head from the face of the Virgin Mary. 
 When I arose she wass looking down at me in the 
 darkness, and then I knew that there wass service 
 in the church, and this wass the hymn : 
 
 '* * There is a fountain filled with blood.' 
 
 So I went in and sat down at the door. The 
 sermon wass on the Prodigal Son, but there iss 
 only one word I remember. 'You are not for- 
 gotten or cast off,' the preacher said ; ' you are 
 missed,' and then he will come back to it again, 
 and it wass always ' missed, missed, missed/ 
 
HO TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 Sometime he will say, ' If you had a plant, and 
 you had taken great care of it, and it was stolen, 
 would you not miss it? And I will be thinking 
 of my geraniums, and saying ' yes ' in my heart. 
 And then he will go on, ' If a shepherd was count- 
 ing his sheep, and there wass one short, does he not 
 go out to the hill and seek for it ? ' and I will see 
 my father coming back with that lamb that lost 
 its mother. My heart wass melting within me, but 
 he will still be pleading, ' If a father had a child, 
 and she left her home and lost herself in the 
 wicked city, she will still be remembered in the 
 old house, and her chair will be there/ and I will 
 be seeing my father all ^.lone with the Bible before 
 him, and the dogs will lay their heads on his knee, 
 but there iss no Flora. So I slipped out into the 
 darkness and cried ' Father !' but I could not go 
 back, and I knew not what to do. But this wass 
 ^ver in my ear, ' missed/ and I wass wondering 
 if God will be thinking of me. ' Perhaps there may 
 be a sign/ I said, and I went to my room, and I 
 saw the letter. It was not long before I will be 
 in the train, and all the night I held your letter 
 in my hand, and when I wass afraid I will read 
 ' Your father loves you more than efer/ and I will 
 say, ' This is my warrant/ Oh, yes ! and God wass 
 fery good to me, and I did not want for friends 
 all the way home. 
 
 "The English guard noticed me cry, and he 
 will take care of me all th night, and see me off 
 at Muirtown, and this iss what he will say as the 
 train wass leaving, in his cheery English way, 
 
LIKE AS A FATHER. Ill 
 
 ' Keep up your heart, lass, there's a good time 
 coming,' and Peter Bruce will be waiting for me 
 at the Junction, and a gentle man iss Peter Bruce, 
 and Maister Moncur will be singing a psalm to 
 keep up my heart, and I Vv ill see the light, and then 
 I will know that the Lord hass had mercy upon 
 me. That iss all I have to tell you, Marget, for 
 the rest I will be saying to God." 
 
 " But there iss something I must be telling," said 
 Lachlan, coming in, " and it iss not easy/' 
 
 He brought over the Bible and opened it at the 
 family register where his daughter's name had 
 been erased ; then he laid it down before Flora, 
 and bowed his head on the bed. 
 
 " Will you ever be able to forgive your father ? " 
 
 " Give me the pen, Marge'; anc ^Icra wrote 
 for a minute, but Lachlan never moved, 
 
 When he lifted his head, this was what he read 
 in a vacant space : 
 
 FLORA CAMPBELL. 
 
 Missed, April, 1873. 
 
 Found, September, 1873. 
 
 ** Her father fell on her neck and kissed her.** 
 
IV. 
 
 AS A LITTLE CHILD. 
 
 DRUMTOCHTY made up its mind slowly upon 
 any newcomer, and for some time looked into the 
 far distance when his name was mentioned. He 
 himself was struck with the studied indifference 
 of the parish, and lived under the delusion that he 
 had escaped notice. Perhaps he might have felt 
 uncomfortable if he had suspected that he was 
 under a microscope, and the keenest eyes in the 
 country were watching every movement at kirk and 
 market. His knowledge of theology, his preference 
 in artificial manures, his wife's Sabbath dress, his 
 skill in cattle, and his manner in the Kildrummie 
 train, went as evidence in the case, and were duly 
 weighed. Some morning the floating opinion sud- 
 denly crystallized in the kirkyard, and there is only 
 one historical instance in which judgment was 
 reversed. It was a strong proof of Lachlan 
 Campbell's individuality that he impressed him- 
 self twice on the parish, and each time with a 
 marked adjective. 
 
 Lachlan had been superintending the theology 
 of the glen and correcting our ignorance from an 
 unapproachable height for two years before the 
 word went forth, but the glen had been thinking. 
 
 " Lachlan is a carefu' shepherd and fine wi* the 
 ewes at the lambing time, there's nae doot o' that, 
 
AS A LITTLE CHILD. 113 
 
 but a* canna thole [bear] himsel'. Ye wud think 
 there was nae releegion in the pairish till he cam* 
 frae Auchindarroch. What say ye, Domsie ? " 
 
 " Campbell's a censorious body, Drumsheugh," 
 and Domsie shut his snuff-box lid with a snap. 
 
 Drumsheugh nodded to the fathers of our com- 
 monwealth, and they went into kirk with silent 
 satisfaction. Lachlan had been classified, and 
 Peter Bruce, who prided himself on keeping in 
 touch with Drumtochty, passed the word round 
 the Kildrummie train next market night. 
 
 " Ye haena that censorious body, Lachlan 
 Campbell, wi* ye the nicht," thrusting his head in 
 on the thirds. 
 
 "There's naething Peter disna ken," Hillocks 
 remarked with admiration afterwards ; " he's as 
 gude as the Advertiser" 
 
 , When Flora had come home, and Drumtochty 
 resumed freedom of criticism, I noticed for the 
 first time a certain vacillation in its treatment of 
 Lachlan. 
 
 " He's pluckit up his speerit maist extraordinar," 
 Hillocks explained, " and he whuppit by me like a 
 three-year-auld laist Sabbath. 
 
 " ' I'm gled tae hear the Miss is comin* roond 
 fine/ says I, 
 
 " ' It's the fouk o* Drumtochty hes made her 
 weel. God bless you, for you hev done good for 
 evil,' and wi' that he was aff afore I cud fin' a 
 word. 
 
 " He's changed, the body, some wy or ither, and 
 there's a kird o* warmth aboot him ye canna get 
 ower. " 
 
 Next day I turned into Mrs. Macfadyen's cottage 
 
114 TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 for a cup of tea, and the smack of that wise 
 woman's conversation, but was not able to pass the 
 inner door for the sight which met my eyes. 
 
 Lachlan was sitting on a chair in the middle of 
 the kitchen with Elsie, Mrs. Macfadyen's pet child, 
 on his knee, and their heads so close together that 
 his white hair was mingling with her burnished 
 gold. An odour of peppermint floated out at the 
 door, and Elsie was explaining to Lachlan, for his 
 guidance at the shop, that the round drops were a 
 better bargain than the black and white rock. 
 
 When Lachlan had departed, with gracious 
 words on his lips and a very sticky imprint on his 
 right cheek, I settled down in the big chair, beyond 
 the power of speech, and Mrs. Macfadyen opened 
 the mystery. 
 
 " Ye may weel look, for twa month syne I wudna 
 hae believed this day, though a' hed seen him wi' 
 ma ain een. 
 
 " It was juist this time laist year that he cam* 
 here on his elder's veesitation, and he catches the 
 bairn in this verra kitchen. 
 
 " Elspeth,' says he it was Elsie the day, ye 
 mind ' div ye ken that ye're an oreeginal sinner?' 
 
 " It was nichtfa* afore she got ower the fricht, 
 and when she saw him on the road next Sabbath, 
 she cooried in ahint ma goon, and cried till I 
 thocht her hert wud break. 
 
 " ' It's meeserable wark for Christ's Elder,' says 
 Jeems, ' tae put the fear o* death on a bairn, and 
 a'm thinkin' he wudna get muckle thanks frae his 
 Maister, if He wes here,' and Jeems wasna far 
 wrong, though, of course, a' told him tae keep a 
 quiet sough, and no center the elder. 
 
AS A LITTLE CHILD. 115 
 
 " Weel, I sees Lachlan comin' up the road the 
 day, and a* ran oot to catch Elsie and hide her in 
 the byre. But a* micht hae saved mysel' the 
 trouble : afore I got tae the gairden gate they were 
 comin' up as chief [friendly] as ye like, and Lach- 
 lan wes callin' Elsie his bonnie dawtie. 
 
 " If he hadna a pock o* peppermints but it 
 wasna that wiled Elsie's hert. Na, na ; dogs and 
 bairns can read fouks* faces, and mak nae mis- 
 takes. As sune as a* saw Lachlan's een a* kent he 
 wes a new man. 
 
 " Hoo has it come about ? That's easy tae 
 guess. Sax months syne Lachlan didna ken what 
 father meant, and the hert wes wizened in the 
 breist o' him wi' pride an f diveenity. 
 
 " He kens noo, and a'm jalousing that nae man 
 can be a richt father tae his ain without being sib 
 [akin] tae every bairn he sees. It was Flora he 
 wes dawting [petting] ye see the day, and he's 
 learned his trade weel, though it cost him a sair 
 lesson." 
 
 Wonderful stories circulated through the glen, 
 and were told in the kirkyard of a Sabbath morn- 
 ing, concerning the transformation of Lachlan 
 Campbell. 
 
 "Ane o' ma wee lassies," expatiated Domsie, 
 " fell comin' doon the near road frae Whinnie 
 Knowe, and cuttit her cheek on the stones, and 
 if Lachlan didna wash her face and comfort her ; 
 an' mair, he carried her a' the road tae the schule, 
 and says he in his Hieland way, ' Here iss a brave 
 little woman that hass hurt herself, but she will 
 not be crying,' and he gave her a kiss and a penny 
 tae buy some sweeties at the shop. It minded me 
 
Il6 TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 o' the Gude Samaritan, fouks," and everybody 
 understood that Lachlan had captured Domsie 
 for life. 
 
 " It beats a' things," said Whinnie ; " a' canna 
 mak' oot what's come ower the cratur. There's 
 a puckle o' the upland bairns pass oor wy frae 
 schule, and whiles Lachlan 'ill meet them when 
 he's aifter his sheep, and as sure as a'm stannin' 
 here, he '11 lay aff stories aboot battles and fairies, 
 till the laddies '11 hardly gae hame. I wes tellin' 
 Marget this verra mornin', and she says, * Lachlan's 
 become as a little child.' I dinna haud wi' her 
 there, but a quieter, mair cautious body ye never 
 saw." 
 
 Drumtochty was doing its best to focus Lachlan 
 afresh, and felt the responsibility lay on Domsie, 
 who accepted it cheerfully. 
 
 " Marget's aye richt, neeburs, and she's put the 
 word on it noo. His tribble hes melted Lachlan's 
 hert, an' it's in the Evangel, ye ken he's be- 
 come as a little child." 
 
 This language was too figurative and imposing 
 for the parish, but it ran henceforward in our 
 modest speech, " He's a cautious body." Cautious, 
 with us, meant unassuming, kindly, obliging, as 
 well as much more ; and I still hear Drumsheugh 
 pronouncing this final judgment of the glen on 
 Lachlan as we parted at his grave ten years later, 
 and adding, " He'ill be sair missed by the bairns." 
 
 While the glen was readjusting itself to Lach- 
 lan, I came down from a long tramp on the moor, 
 and intended to inquire for Flora. But I was ar- 
 rested on the step by the sound of Lachlan's voice 
 in family worship. 
 
AS A LITTLE CHILD. 117 
 
 " ' This my son was dead, and is alive again ; he 
 was lost, and is found. And they began to be 
 merry/ " 
 
 Lachlan's voice trembled as he read, but he went 
 on with much firmness : 
 
 " * Now his elder son was in the field,' " 
 
 " You will not be reading more of that chapter, 
 father," interrupted Flora, with a new note of 
 authority. 
 
 " And why not ? " said Lachlan, quite humbly. 
 
 " Because you will be calling yourself the elder 
 son and many more bad names, and I will be 
 angry with you." 
 
 " But they are true names, and it iss good for me 
 to know myself." 
 
 " You hef just one true name, and that is father, 
 . . . And now you will be singing a psalm." 
 
 " There iss a book of himes [hymns] here, and 
 maybe you will be liking one of them." 
 
 And Lachlan produced the little book Flora got 
 in that London church when the preacher told her 
 she was missed. 
 
 " We will not sing hymns, father, for I am re- 
 membering that you hef a conscience against 
 hymns, and I did not know that you had that 
 book." 
 
 " My conscience wass sometimes better than the 
 Bible, Flora, and if God will be sending a hime to 
 bind up your heart when it wass broken, it iss your 
 father that will be wanting to sing that hime. 
 
 " It iss here," continued Lachlan in triumph, 
 " for I hef often been reading that hime, and I am 
 not seeing much wrong in it." 
 
 " But each hymn hass got its own tune, father, 
 
Il8 TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 and you will not know the way that it goes, and 
 the doctor will not be wishing me to sing/' 
 
 " You are a good girl, Flora, but you are not so 
 clever as your father; oh, no ! for I hef been try- 
 ing that hime on the hill, and it will sing beautiful 
 to a Psalm tune. You will lie still and hear." 
 
 Then Lachlan lifted up his voice in " French " : 
 
 ** There is a fountain filled with blood, 
 Drawn from Immanuel's veins, 
 And sinners plunged beneath that flood 
 Lose all their guilty stains.*' 
 
 The singing was fairly good, with a whisper 
 from Flora, till they came to that verse : 
 
 '* Then in a nobler, sweeter song 
 I'll sing Thy power to save, 
 When this poor lisping, stammering tongue 
 Lies silent in the grave," 
 
 when Lachlan seemed to lose the tune, and be 
 falling into a coronach. 
 
 "We must not be singing that to-day, father, 
 for God iss fery good to us, and I will be stronger 
 every week, and maybe you will be saying that we 
 are thankful in your prayer." 
 
 Then I realised my baseness, and went off on 
 tiptoe (had the dogs been at home it had not been 
 so easy to escape) ; but first I heard, " Our Father.' 
 It was a new word for Lachlan ; he used to say' 
 Jehovah. 
 
 The doctor paid his last visit one frosty winter 
 day, and was merciless on Lachlan. 
 
 "What for are ye cockering up this lassie, and 
 no getting her doon tae the kirk ? It's clean dis- 
 gracefu' in an Elder, and if I were yir minister a* 
 
AS A LITTLE CHILD. IIQ 
 
 wud hae ye sessioned. Sail, ye 're hard enough on 
 ither fouk that are no kirk greedy." 
 
 " You will not be speaking that way next Sab- 
 bath, for it iss in her pew Flora will be sitting 
 with her father," said Lachlan, in great spirits. 
 
 Flora caught him studying her closely for some 
 days, as if he were taking her measure, and he an- 
 nounced that he had business in Muirtown on 
 Friday. 
 
 When he came up in the market train he was 
 carrying a large paper parcel, and attempted a joke 
 with Peter at a window of the third. From a 
 critical point of view it was beneath notice, but 
 as Lachlan's first effort it was much tasted. 
 
 " Ye'ill believe me noo, Peter, since ye've heard 
 him. Did ye ever see sic a change ? It's maist 
 astonishin'." 
 
 " Man, Hillocks, div ye no see he's gotten 
 back his dochter, and it's made him anither 
 man ? " ' ' 
 
 Lachlan showed Flora a new pair of shears he 
 had bought in Muirtown, and a bottle of sheep 
 embrocation, but she did not know he had hidden 
 his parcel in the byre, and that he opened it four 
 separate times on Saturday. 
 
 From daybreak on Sabbath Lachlan went in and 
 out till he returned with Marget Howe. 
 
 " Mrs. Howe iss very kind, and she will be 
 conflng to help you with your dresses, Flora, for 
 we will be wanting you to look well this day, and 
 here iss some small thing to keep you warm," and 
 Lachlan produced with unspeakable pride a jacket 
 lined with flannel and trimmed with fur. 
 
 So her father and Marget dressed Flora for the 
 
120 TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 kirk, and they went together down the path on 
 which the light had shone that night of her return. 
 
 There were only two dog-carts in the Free Kirk 
 Session, and Burnbrae was waiting with his for 
 Flora at the foot of the hill. 
 
 " I bid ye welcome, Flora, in the name o' oor 
 kirk. It's a gled day for your father, and for us 
 a' tae see you back again and strong. And noo 
 ye'ill just get up aside me in the front, and Mis- 
 tress Hoo 'ill hap ye round, for we maunna let ye 
 come to ony ill the first day yir oot, or we'ill never 
 hear the end o't." And so the honest man went 
 on, for he was as near the breaking as Drumtochty 
 nature allowed. 
 
 " A'body's pleased," said Marget to Lachlan as 
 they sat on the back seat and caught the faces of 
 the people. " This is the first time I have seen 
 the fifteenth of Luke in Drumtochty. It's a bonnie 
 sicht, and a'm thinkin' it's still bonnier in the pres- 
 ence o' the angels." 
 
 " Flora Cammil's in the kirk the day," and the 
 precentor looked at Carmichael with expectation. 
 " The fouk are terrible taen up wi' Lachlan and 
 her." 
 
 " What do you think of the Hundred and third 
 Psalm, Robert ? It would go well this morning." 
 
 "The verra word that was on my lips, and 
 Lachlan '11 be lookin' for Coleshill." 
 
 Lachlan had put Flora in his old place ne^ the 
 wall (he would not need it again, having retired 
 from the office of inquisitor), and sat close beside 
 her, with great contentment on his face. The 
 manners of Drumtochty were perfect, and no one 
 turned his head by one inch ; but Marget Howe, 
 
AS A LITTLE CHILD. 121 
 
 sitting behind in Burnbrae's pew, saw Flora's hand 
 go out to Lachlan's as the people sang : 
 
 ** All thine iniquities who doth 
 
 Most graciously forgive, 
 Who thy diseases all and pains 
 Doth heal and thee relieve.'* 
 
 The Session met that week, and a young girl 
 broke down utterly in her examination for the 
 Sacrament, so that not even Burnbrae could get 
 a correct answer. 
 
 She rose in great confusion and sorrow. 
 
 " A 1 see it wuclna be fit for the like o' me taegae 
 forrit, but a' had set ma hert on't ; it wes the last 
 thing He askit o' His freends," and she left before 
 anyone could bid her stay. 
 
 <4 Moderator," said Lachlan, "it iss a great joy 
 for me to move that Mary Macfarlane get her 
 token, and I will be wishing that we all had her 
 warrant, oh, yes ! for there iss no warrant like love. 
 And there is something that I must be asking of 
 the elders, and it is to forgive me for my pride in 
 this Session. I wass thinking that I knew more 
 than any man in Drumtochty, and wass judging 
 God's people. But He hass had mercy upon 
 Simon the Pharisee, and you hef all been very good 
 to me and Flora. . . . The Scripture hass been 
 fulfilled, * So the last shall be first, and the first 
 last.' " 
 
 Then the minister asked Burnbrae to pray, and 
 the Spirit descended on that good man, of simple 
 heart : 
 
 " Almichty Father, we are a' Thy puirand sinfu' 
 bairns, wha wearied o' hame and gaed awa' intae 
 
122 TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 the far country. Forgive us, for we didna ken 
 what we were leavin' or the sair hert we gied oor 
 Father. It wes weary wark tae live wi' oor sins, 
 but we wud never hev come back had it no been 
 for oor Elder Brither. He cam' a long road tae 
 find us, and a sore travail He had afore He set us 
 free. He's been a glide Brither tae us, and we've 
 been a heavy chairge tae Him. May He keep a 
 firm haud o' us, aud guide us in the richt road and 
 bring us back gin we wander, and tell us a* we 
 need tae know till the gloamin' come. Gither us in 
 then, we pray Thee, and a' we luve, no a bairn 
 missin', and may we sit doon for ever in oor ain 
 Father's House. , Amen." 
 
 As Burnbrae said Amen, Carmichael opened his 
 eyes, and had a vision which will remain with him 
 until the day break and the shadows flee away. 
 
 The six elders three small farmers, a tailor, 
 a stonemason, and a shepherd were standing be- 
 neath the lamp, and the light fell like a halo on 
 their bent heads. That poor little vestry had dis- 
 appeared, and this present world was forgotten. 
 The sons of God had come into their heritage, 
 * for the things which are seen are temporal, but 
 the things which are not seen are eternal." 
 
THE CUNNING SPEECH OF 
 DRUMTOCHTY. 
 
 SPEECH in Drumtochty distilled slowly, drop by 
 drop, and the faces of our men were carved in 
 stone. Visitors, without discernment, used to pity 
 our dulness and lay themselves out for missionary 
 work. Before their month was over they spoke 
 bitterly of us, as if we had deceived them, and 
 departed with a grudge in their hearts. When 
 Hillocks scandalised the Glen by letting his house 
 and living in the bothie, through sheer greed of 
 money, it was taken by a fussy little man from 
 the South, whose control over the letter " h " was 
 uncertain, but whose self-confidence bordered on 
 the miraculous. As a deacon of the Social Reli- 
 gionists, a new denomination, which had made 
 an 'it with Sunday Entertainments, and Chairman 
 of the Amalgamated Sons of Rest, a society of 
 persons with conscientious objections to work 
 between meals, he was horrified at the primeval 
 simplicity of the Glen, where no meeting of pro- 
 test had been held in the memory of living man, 
 and the ministers preached from the Bible. It was 
 understood that he was to do his best for us, and 
 there was curiosity in the kirkyard. 
 
 " Whatna like man is that English veesitor ye've 
 
124 THE CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY. 
 
 got, Hillocks ? a' hear he's fleein' ower the Glen, 
 yammerin' and haverin' like a starlin'." 
 
 " He's a gabby [talkative] body, Drumsheugh, 
 there's nae doot o' that, but terrible ignorant. 
 
 " Says he tae me nae later than yesterday* 
 ' That's a fine field o' barley ye've there, Maister 
 Harris,' an' as sure as deith a' didna ken whaur tae 
 luik, for it was a puckle aits." 
 
 " Keep's a'," said Whinnie ; " he's been awfu' 
 negleckit when he was a bairn, or maybe there's a 
 want in the puir cratur." 
 
 Next Sabbath Mr. Urijah Hopps appeared in 
 person among the fathers who looked at each 
 other over his head and enlightened them on 
 supply and demand, the Game Laws, the produc- 
 tion of cabbages for towns, the iniquity of an 
 Established Church, and the bad metre of the 
 Psalms of David. 
 
 "You must 'ave henterprise, or it's hall hup 
 with you farmers." 
 
 " Ay, ay," responded Drumsheugh, after a long 
 pause, and then every man concentrated his 
 attention on the belfry of the kirk. 
 
 " Is there onything ava' in the body, think ye, 
 Domsie," as Mr. Hopps bustled into kirk, " or is't 
 a' wind ? " 
 
 "Three wechtfu's o' naething, Drumsheugh; 
 a' peety the puir man if Jamie Soutar gets a 
 baud o' him." 
 
 Jamie was the cynic of the Glen who had 
 pricked many a wing bag and there was a 
 general feeling that his meeting with Mr. Hopps 
 would not be devoid of interest. When he showed 
 himself anxious to learn next Sabbath, any man 
 outside Drumtochty might have been deceived, for 
 
THE CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY. 125 
 
 Jamie could withdraw every sign of intelligence 
 from his face, as when shutters close upon a shop 
 window. Our visitor fell at once into the trap, 
 and made things plain xo the meanest capacity, 
 until Jamie elicited from the guileless Southron 
 that he had never heard of the Act of Union ; 
 that Adam Smith was a new book he hoped to- 
 buy; that he did not known the difference be- 
 tween an Arminian and a Calvinist, and that he 
 supposed the Confession of Faith was invented 
 in Edinburgh, This in the briefest space of time, 
 and by way of information to Drumtochty. James 
 was making for general literature, and had still 
 agriculture in reserve, when Drumsheugh inter- 
 vented in the humanity of his heart : 
 
 " A' dinna like tae interrupt yir conversation, 
 Maister Hopps, but it's no verra safe for ye tae 
 be stannin' here sae lang. Oor air hes a bit nip 
 in't, and is mair searchin' than doon Sooth. 
 Jamie 'ill be speirin' a* mornin' gin ye'ill answer 
 him, but a'm thinkin' ye'ill be warmer in the kirk." 
 
 And Drumsheugh escorted Mr. Hopps to cover, 
 who began to suspect that he had been turned 
 inside out, and found wanting. 
 
 Drumtochty had listened with huge delight, 
 but without a trace of expression, and, on Mr. 
 Hopps reaching shelter, three boxes were offered 
 Jamie. 
 
 The group was still lost in admiration when 
 Drumsheugh returned from his errand of mercy. 
 
 " Sail, ye've dune the job this time, Jamie. 
 Ye're an awfu' creetic. Yon man 'ill keep a quiet 
 cheep till he gets Sooth. It passes me hoo a body 
 wi f sae little in him hes the face tae open his 
 mooth." 
 
126 THE CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY. 
 
 " Ye did it weel, Jamie," Domsie added, " a 
 clean furrow frae end tae end." 
 
 " Toots, fouk, yir makin' ower muckle o' it. It 
 wes licht grund, no worth puttin' in a ploo." 
 
 Mr. Hopps explained to me, before leaving, that 
 he had been much pleased with the scenery of our 
 Glen but disappointed in the people. 
 I " They may not be hignorant," said the little 
 J man doubtfully, " but no man could call them 
 \haffable." 
 
 It flashed on me for the first time that perhaps 
 there may have been the faintest want of geniality 
 in the Drumtochty manner, but it was simply the 
 reticence of a subtle and conscientious people. 
 Intellect with us had been brought to so fine an 
 edge by the Shorter Catechism that it could detect 
 endless distinctions, and was ever on the watch 
 against inaccuracy. Farmers who could state the 
 esoteric doctrine of " spiritual independence " be- 
 tween the stilts of the plough, and talked familiarly 
 of " co-ordinate jurisdiction with mutual subordi- 
 nation," were not likely to fall into the vice of 
 generalisation. When James Soutar was in good 
 fettle, he could trace the whole history of Scottish 
 secession from the beginning, winding his way 
 through the maze of Original Sececlers and Came- 
 ronians, Burghers and Anti-Burghers there were 
 days when he would include the Glassites with 
 unfaltering step ; but this was considered a feat 
 even in Drumtochty, and it was admitted that 
 Jamie had " a gift o' discreemination." We all 
 had the gift in measure, and dared not therefore 
 allow ourselves the expansive language of the 
 South. What right had any human being to fling 
 about sunerlative adiectives. seeing what a bier 
 
THE CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY. 127 
 
 place the world is, and how little we know ? 
 Purple adjectives would have been as much out of 
 place in our conversation as a bird of paradise 
 among our muirfowl. 
 
 Mr. Hopps was so inspired by one of our sun- 
 sets to his credit let that be told that he tried 
 to drive Jamie into extravagance. 
 
 " ' No bad ! ' I call it glorious, and if it hisn't, 
 then I'd like to know what his." 
 
 " Man," replied Soutar austerely, " ye'ill surely 
 keep ae word for the twenty-first o' Reevelation." 
 
 Had any native used " magnificent," there 
 would have been an uneasy feeling in the Glen ; 
 the man must be suffering from wind in the 
 head, and might upset the rotation of crops, 
 sowing his young grass after potatoes, or re- 
 placing turnip with beetroot. But nothing of 
 that sort happened in my time ; we kept our- 
 selves well in hand. It rained in torrents else- 
 where, with us it onlyj " threatened tae be 
 weet" some provision had to be made for the 
 deluge. Strangers, in the pride of health, de- 
 scribed themselves as "fit for anything," but 
 Hillocks, who died at ninety-two, and never 
 had an hour's illness, did not venture, in his 
 prime, beyond " Gaein' aboot, a'm thankfu' to 
 say, gaein' aboot." 
 
 When one was seriously ill, he was said to 
 be " gey an' sober," and no one died in Drum- 
 tochty " he slippit awa." 
 
 Hell and heaven were pulpit words ; in private 
 life we spoke of " the ill place " and " oor lang 
 hame." 
 
 When tne corn sprouted in the stooks one 
 late wet harvest, and Burnbrae lost half his 
 
128 THE CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY. 
 
 capital, he only said, " It's no lichtsome," and no 
 congratulations on a good harvest ever extracted 
 more from Drumsheugh than " A' daurna com- 
 plain." 
 
 Drumsheugh might be led beyond bounds 
 in reviewing a certain potato transaction, but, 
 as a rule, he was a master of measured speech. 
 After the privilege of much intercourse with 
 that excellent man, I was able to draw up his 
 table of equivalents for the three degrees of 
 wickedness. When there was just a suspicion 
 of trickiness neglecting the paling between your 
 cattle and your neighbour's clover field " He's 
 no juist the man for an elder." If it deepened 
 into deceit running a " greasy " horse for an 
 hour before selling " He wud be better o' anither 
 dip." And in the case of downright fraud find- 
 ing out what a man had offered for his farm and 
 taking it over his head the offender was " an 
 ill gettit wratch." The two latter phrases were 
 dark with theology, and even the positive degree 
 of condemnation had an ecclesiastical flavor. 
 
 When Drumsheugh approved anyone, he was 
 content to say, " He micht be waur," a position 
 beyond argument. On occasion he ventured upon 
 bolder assertions : " There's nae mischief in 
 Domsie ; " and once I heard him in a white heat 
 of enthusiasm pronounce Dr. Davidson, our parish 
 minister, "A graund man ony wy ye tak him." 
 But he seemed ashamed after this outburst, and 
 44 shooed " the crows off the corn with needless 
 vigour. 
 
 No Drumtochty man would commit himself to a 
 positive statement on any subject if he could find 
 a way of escape, not because his mind was con- 
 
THE CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY. I2Q 
 
 fused, but because he was usually in despair for 
 an accurate expression. It was told for years 
 in the Glen, with much relish and almost funereal 
 solemnity, how a Drumtochty witness held his 
 own in an ecclesiastical court. 
 
 " You are beadle in the parish of Pitscourie,'" 
 began the advocate with a light heart, not knowing 
 the witness's birthplace. 
 
 " It's a fac'," after a long pause and a careful 
 review of the whole situation. 
 
 " You remember that Sabbath when the minister 
 of Netheraid preached." 
 
 " Weel, a'll admit that," making a concession to 
 justice. 
 
 " Did ye see him in the vestry ? " 
 
 " A' canna deny it." 
 
 " Was he intoxicated ? " 
 
 The crudeness of this question took away 
 Drumtochty's breath, and suggested that some- 
 thing must have been left out in the creation of 
 that advocate. Our men were not bigoted 
 abstainers, but I never heard any word so coarse 
 and elementary as intoxicated used in Drum- 
 tochty. Conversation touched this kind of cir- 
 cumstance with delicacy and caution, for we keenly 
 realised the limitations of human knowledge. 
 
 " He hed his mornin'," served all ordinary pur- 
 poses, and in cases of emergency, such as Muir- 
 town market : 
 
 " Ye cud see he hed been tastin'." 
 
 When an advocate forgot himself so far as to 
 say intoxicated, a Drumtochty man might be ex- 
 cused for being upset. 
 
 " Losh, man," when he had recovered, " hoo cud 
 ony richt-thinkin' man sweer tae sic an awfu' 
 
130 THE CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY. 
 
 word ? Na, na ; a' daurna use that kin' o' langidge ; 
 it's no cannie." 
 
 The advocate tried again, a humbler, wiser man. 
 
 " Was there a smell of drink on him ? " 
 
 " Noo, since ye press me, a'll juist tell ye the 
 hale truth ; it wes doonricht stupid o' me, but, as 
 sure as a'm livin', a* clean forgot to try him." 
 
 Then the chastened council gathered himself up 
 for his last effort. 
 
 " Will you answer one question, sir ? you are on 
 your oath. Did you see anything unusual in Mr. 
 MacOmish's walk ? Did he stagger ? " 
 
 " Na," when he had spent two minutes in recall- 
 ing the scene. " Na, I cudna say stagger, but he 
 micht gie a bit trimmil." 
 
 " We are coming to the truth now ; what did 
 you consider the cause of the trimmiling, as you 
 call it ? " and the innocent young advocate looked 
 round in triumph. 
 
 " Weel," replied Drumtochty, making a clean 
 breast of it, " since ye maun hae it, a' heard that 
 he wes a very learned man, and it cam' intae ma 
 mind that the Hebrew, which, a'm telt, is a very 
 contrairy langidge, hed gaen doon and settled in 
 his legs." 
 
 The parish of Netheraird was declared vacant, 
 but it was understood that the beadle of Pitscourie 
 had not contributed to this decision. 
 
 His own parish followed the trial with intense 
 interest, and were much pleased with Andra's 
 appearance. 
 
 " Sail," said Hillocks, " Andra has mair gump- 
 tion than ye wud think, and yon advocat didna 
 mak muckle o' him. Na, na ; Andra wesna brocht 
 up in the Glen for naethin'. Maister MacOmish 
 
THE CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY. 13' 
 
 may hae taen his gless atween the Hebrew and the 
 Greek, and it's no verra suitable for a minister, but 
 that's anither thing frae bein' intoxicat." 
 
 " Keep's a', if ye were tae pit me in the box this 
 meenut, a* cudna sweer a* hed ever seen a man 
 intoxicat in ma life, except a puir body o' an Eng- 
 lish bag-man at Muirtown Station. A' doot he hed 
 bin meddlin' wi' speerits, and they were wheelin* 
 him tae his kerridge in a luggage-barrow. It wes 
 a fearsome sicht, and eneugh tae keep ony man 
 frae speakin' aboot intoxicat in yon loose wy." 
 
 Archie Moncur fought the drinking customs of 
 the Glen night and day with moderate success, 
 and one winter's night he gave me a study in 
 his subject which, after the lapse of years, I still 
 think admirable for its reserve power and Dan- 
 tesque conclusion. 
 
 " They a' begin in a sma' wy," explained Archie, 
 almost hidden in the depths of my reading chair, 
 and emphasising his points with a gentle motion 
 of his right hand; "naethin' tae mention at first, 
 juist a gless at an orra time a beerial or a mer- 
 ridge and maybe New Year. That's the first 
 stage ; they ca' that moderation. After a while 
 they tak a mornin' wi' a freend, and syne a gless 
 at the public-hoose in the evenin', and they treat 
 ane anither on market days. That's the second 
 stage; that's 'tastinV Then they need it reg'lar 
 every day, nicht an* mornin', and they'ill sit on at 
 nicht till they're turned oot. They'ill fecht ower 
 the Confession noo, and laist Sabbath's sermon, 
 in the Kildrummie train, till it's clean reediklus. 
 That's drammin', and when they've hed a year or 
 twa at that they hee their first spatie [spate is a 
 river flood], and that gives them a bit fricht. But 
 
132 THE CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY. 
 
 aff they set again, and then comes anither spatie, 
 and the doctor hes tae bring them roond. They 
 ca' [drive] cannie for a year or sae, but the feein' 
 market puts the feenishin' titch. They slip aff 
 sudden in the end, and then they juist gang plunk 
 ay," said Archie in a tone of gentle meditation, 
 looking, as it were, over the edge, " juist plunk." 
 
 Nothing ever affected my imagination more 
 powerfully than the swift surprise and gruesome 
 suggestion of that " plunk." 
 
 But the literary credit of Drumtochty rested on a 
 broad basis, and no one could live with us without 
 having his speech braced for life. You felt equal 
 to any emergency, and were always able to express 
 your mind with some degree of accuracy ; which is 
 one of the luxuries of life. There is, for instance, 
 a type of idler who exasperates one to the point of 
 assault, and whom one hungers to describe after a 
 becoming manner. He was rare in the cold air of 
 the North, but we had produced one specimen, 
 and it was my luck to be present when he came 
 back from a distant colony, and Jamie Soutar 
 welcomed him in the kirkyard. 
 
 " Weel, Chairlie," and Jamie examined the well- 
 dressed prodigal from top to toe, " this is a prood 
 moment for Drumtochty, and an awfu' relief tae 
 ken yir safe. Man, ye hevna wanted meat nor 
 claithes ; a* tak it rael neeburly o' ye tae speak ava 
 wi* us auld-fashtoned fouk. 
 
 " Ye needna look soor nor cock yir nose in the 
 air, for you an' me are auld freends, and yir puir 
 granny wes na mair anxious aboot ye than a* 
 wes. 
 
 " ' A'm feared that laddie o' Bell's 'ill kill himsel' 
 oot in Ameriky/ were ma verra words tae Hillocks 
 
THE CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY. 133 
 
 here ; ' he'ill be slavin' his flesh aff his banes tae 
 mak a fortune and keep her comfortable/ 
 
 " It was a rael satisfaction tae read yir letter 
 frae the backwoods or was't a public-hoose in 
 New York ? ma memory's no what it used to be 
 tellin* hoo ye were aye thinkin* o' yer auld granny, 
 and wantin' tae come hame and be a comfort tae 
 her if she wud send ye oot twenty pund. 
 
 " The bit that affeckit me maist wes the text 
 frae the Prodigal Son it cam' in sae natural. 
 Mony a broken hert hes that story bund up, as we 
 ken weel in this Glen ; but it's dune a feck o' mis- 
 chief tae that gude word o' the Maister. Half 
 the wastrels in the warld pay their passage hame 
 wi' that Parable, and get a bran new outfit for 
 anither start in the far country. 
 
 " Noo dinna turn red, Chairlie, for the neeburs 
 ken ye were tae work yir wy hame hed it no 
 been for yir health. But there's a pack of rascals 
 'ill sorn on their father as lang as he's livin', and 
 they'ill stairve a weedowed mither, and they'ill 
 take a sister's wages, and if they canna get ony 
 better a dune body o' eighty 'ill serve them. 
 
 " Man, Chairlie, if a 1 hed ma wull wi' thae 
 wawfies, I wud ship them aff tae a desert island, 
 wi' ae sack o' seed potatoes and anither o' seed 
 corn, and let them work or dee. A* ken yir wi' 
 me there, for ye aye hed an independent spirit, and 
 wesna feared tae bend yir back. 
 
 " Noo, if a' cam' across ane o' thae meeserable 
 objects in Drumtochty, div ye ken the advice I 
 wud gie him ? 
 
 " A wud tell the daidlin', thowless, feckless, 
 fusionless wratch o' a cratur tae watch for the 
 first spate and droon himsel' in the Tochty. 
 
134 THE CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY. 
 
 " What's he aff through the graves for in sic a 
 hurry ? " and Jamie followed Charlie's retreating 
 figure with a glance of admirable amazement; 
 " thae's no very gude mainners he's learned in 
 Ameriky." 
 
 " Thank ye, Jeemes, thank ye ; we're a' obleeged 
 tae ye," said Drumsheugh. "A* wes ettlin' tae 
 lay ma hands on the whup-ma-denty [fop] masel', 
 but ma certes, he's hed his kail het this mornin'. 
 Div ye think he'ill tak yir advice ? " 
 
 " Nae fear o' him ; thae neer-dae-weels haena 
 the spunk; but a'm expeckin' he'ill flee the 
 pairish." 
 
 Which he did. Had you called him indolent or 
 useless he had smiled, but " daidlin', thowless, 
 feckless, fushionless wratch," drew blood at every 
 stroke, like a Russian knout. 
 
 We had tender words also, that still bring the 
 tears to my eyes, and chief among them was 
 " couthy," What did it mean ? It meant a letter 
 to some tired townsman, written in homely Scotch, 
 and bidding him come to get new life from the 
 Drumtochty air : and the grip of an honest hand 
 on the Kildrummie platform, whose warmth lasted 
 till you reached the Glen ; and another welcome 
 at the garden gate that mingled with the scent of 
 honeysuckle, and moss-roses, and thyme, and car- 
 nations ; and the best cf everything that could be 
 given you ; and motherly nursing in illness, with 
 skilly remedies of the olden time ; and wise, cheery 
 talk that spake no ill of man or God ; and loud 
 reproaches if you proposed to leave under a month 
 or two ; and absolute conditions that you must re- 
 turn ; and a load of country dainties for a bachelor's 
 bare commons ; and far more, that cannot be put 
 
THE CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY. 135 
 
 into words, of hospitality, and kindness, and quiet- 
 ness, and restfulness, and loyal friendship of hearts 
 now turned to dust in the old kirkyard. 
 
 But the best of all our words were kept for 
 spiritual things, and the description of a . godly 
 man. We did not speak of the " higher life," nor 
 of a " beautiful Christian," for this way of putting 
 it would not have been in keeping with the genius 
 of Drumtochty. Religion there was very lowly 
 and modest an inward walk with God. No man 
 boasted of himself, none told the secrets of the 
 soul. But the Glen took notice of its saints, and 
 did them silent reverence, which they themselves 
 never knew. Jamie Soutar had a wicked tongue, 
 and, at a time, it played round Archie's temper- 
 ance scheme, but when that good man's back was 
 turned Jamie was the first to do him justice. 
 
 " It wud set us better if we did as muckle gude 
 as Archie ; he's a richt livin f man and weel pre- 
 pared." 
 
 Our choicest tribute was paid by general consent 
 to Burnbrae, and it maybe partiality, but it sounds 
 to me the deepest in religious speech. Every cot- 
 tage, strangers must understand, had at least two 
 rooms the kitchen where the work was done, 
 that we called the "But, "and there all kinds of 
 people came ; and the inner chamber which held 
 the household treasures, that we called the " Ben," 
 and there none but a few honoured visitors had 
 entrance. So we imagined an outer court of the 
 religious life where most of us made our home, 
 and a secret place where only God's nearest friends 
 could enter, and it was said of Burnbrae, " He's 
 far ben," His neighbours had watched him, for 
 a generation and more, buying and selling, plough- 
 
136 THE CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY. 
 
 ing and reaping, going out and in the common 
 ways of a farmer's life, and had not missed the 
 glory of the soul. The cynic of Drumtochty 
 summed up his character : " There's a puckle gude 
 fouk in the pairish, and ane or twa o' the ither 
 kind, and the maist o' us are half and between," 
 said Jamie Sou tar, " but there's ae thing ye may 
 be sure o* Burnbrae is 4 far ben.' " 
 
A WISE WOMAN. 
 
 OUR SERMON TASTER. 
 
 A DRUMTOCHTY man, standing six feet three 
 in his boots, sat himself down one day in the study 
 of a West-End minister, and gazed before him with 
 the countenance of a sphinx. 
 
 The sight struck awe into the townsman's heart, 
 and the power of speech was paralysed within 
 him. 
 
 " A'm frae Drumtochty," began a deep, solemn 
 voice. " Ye'ill hae heard of Drumtochty, of 
 coorse. A've jined the polis ; the pay is no that 
 bad, and the work is naethin' to an able-bodied 
 man." 
 
 When these particulars had been digested by 
 the audience : 
 
 " It's a crooded place London, and the fouks aye 
 in a tiravie [commotion], rinnin' here and rinnin' 
 there, and the maist feck o' them dinna ken whar* 
 they're gaein*. 
 
 " It's officer this and officer that frae mornin* 
 till nicht. It's peetifu* tae see the helplessness o 1 
 the bodies in their ain toon. And they're freevo- 
 lous," continued the figure, refreshing itself with a 
 reminiscence. 
 
 137 
 
138 A WISE WOMAN. 
 
 " It wes this verra mornin* that a man askit me 
 hoo tae get tae the Strand. 
 
 " ' Haud on,' I says, * till ye come tae a cross 
 street, and dinna gang doon it, and when ye see 
 anither pass it, but whup round the third, and yir 
 nose 'ill bring ye tae the Strand/ 
 
 " He was a shachlin bit cratur, and he lookit up 
 at me. 
 
 " ' Where were you born, officer ? ' in his clippit 
 English tongue. 
 
 " ' Drumtochty/ a' said, ' an* we hev juist ae 
 man as sma' as you in the hale Glen/ 
 
 " He gied awa' lauchin' like tae split his sides, 
 an* the fac' is there's no ane o' them asks me a 
 question but he lauchs. They're a light-headed 
 fouk, and no sair educat. But we maunna boast ; 
 they hevna hed our advantages." 
 
 The minister made a brave effort to assert him- 
 self. 
 
 " Is there anything I can do " but the figure 
 
 simply waved its hand and resumed : 
 
 " A'm comin' tae that, but a thocht ye wud be 
 wantin' ma opeenion o* London. 
 
 " Weel, ye see, the first thing a* did, of coorse, 
 after settlin' doon, was tae gae roond the kirks 
 and hear what kin' o' ministers they hae up here. 
 A've been in saxteen kirks the last three months, 
 an* a ' wud hae been in mair had it no bin for ma 
 oors. 
 
 " Ay, ay, a* ken ye'ill be wantin' ma judgment/' 
 interpreting a movement in the chair, " an' ye'ill 
 hae it. Some wes puir stuff plenty o' water and 
 little meal and some wesna sae bad for England. 
 But ye'ill be pleased to know," here the figure 
 relaxed and beamed on the anxious minister, "that 
 
OUR SERMON TASTER. 139 
 
 a'm rael weel satisfied wi' yersel', and a'm thinkin' 
 o* sittin* under ye. 
 
 " Man," were Drumtochty's last words, " a 1 
 wish Elspeth Macfadyen cud hear ye, her 'at prees 
 [tastes] the sermons in oor Glen ; a* believe she 
 wud pass ye, an' if ye got a certeeficat frae Els- 
 peth, ye wud be a prood man." 
 
 Drumtochty read widely Soutar was soaked in 
 Carlyle, and Marget Howe knew her " In 
 Memoriam " by heart but our intellectual life 
 centred on the weekly sermon. Men thought 
 about Sabbath as they followed the plough in our 
 caller air, and braced themselves for an effort at 
 the giving out of the text. The hearer had his 
 snuff and selected his attitude, and from that mo- 
 ment to the close he never moved nor took his 
 eyes off the preacher. There was a tradition that 
 one of the Disruption fathers had preached in the 
 Free Kirk for one hour and fifty minutes on the 
 bulwarks of Zion, and had left the impression that 
 he was only playing round the outskirts of his sub- 
 ject. No preacher with anything to say could 
 complain of Drumtochty, for he got a patient, 
 honest, critical hearing from beginning to end. 
 If a preacher were slightly equipped, the audience 
 may have been trying. Well-meaning evangelists 
 who came with what they called " a simple Gospel 
 address," and were accustomed to have their 
 warmer passages punctuated with rounds of spirit- 
 ual applause in the shape of smiles and nods, 
 lost heart in face of that judicial front, and after- 
 wards described Drumtochty in the religious 
 papers as " dead." It was as well that these good 
 men walked in a vain show, for, as a matter of 
 fact, their hearers were painfully alive. 
 
4<> A WISE WOMAN, 
 
 " Whar did yon wakely body come frae, Burn- 
 brae ? It wes licht vvark the day. There wes nae 
 thocht worth mentionin', and onything he hed wes 
 eked oot by repeetition. Tae sae naethin' o' 
 bairnly stories." 
 
 "He lives aboot England, a'm telt, an* dis a 
 feck o' gude in his ain place. He hesna muckle in 
 his head, a'll alloo that, Netherton, but he's an 
 earnest bit cratur." 
 
 " Ou ay, and fu' o' self-conceit. Did ye hear 
 hoo often he said I ' ? A' got as far as saxty-three, 
 and then a* lost coont. But a' keepit ' dear,' it 
 cam* tae the hundred neat. 
 
 " * Weel ? ' a' says tae Elspeth Macfadyen. A' 
 kent she wud hae his measure. 
 
 " ' Gruel, Netherton, juist gruel, and eneuch tae 
 scunner [disgust] ye wi' sugar/" 
 
 It was the birthright of every native of the parish 
 to be a critic, and certain were allowed to be ex- 
 perts in special departments Lachlan Campbell in 
 doctrine and Jamie Soutar in logic but as an all- 
 round practitioner Mrs. Macfadyen had a solitary 
 reputation. It rested on a long series of unre- 
 versed judgments, with felicitous strokes of descrip- 
 tion that passed into the literary capital of the 
 Glen. One felt it was genius, and could only note 
 contributing circumstances an eye that took in 
 the preacher from the- crown of his head to the 
 sole of his foot ; an almost uncannie insight into 
 character ; the instinct to seize on every scrap of 
 evidence; a memory that was simply an automatic 
 register ; an unfailing sense of fitness ; and an ab- 
 solute impartiality regarding subject. 
 
 It goes without saying that Mrs. Macfadyen did 
 not take nervous little notes during the sermon 
 
OUR SERMON TASTER. 141 
 
 all writing on Sabbath, in kirk or outside, was 
 strictly forbidden in Drumtochty or mark her 
 Bible, or practise any other profane device of 
 feeble-minded hearers. It did not matter how 
 elaborate or how incoherent a sermon might be ; it 
 could not confuse our critic. 
 
 When John Peddie of Muirtown, who always 
 approached two hours, and usually had to leave out 
 the last head, took time at the Drumtochty Fast, 
 and gave, at full length, his famous discourse on 
 the total depravity of the human race, from the 
 text, " Arise, shine, for thy light is come/' it may 
 be admitted that the Glen wavered in its confidence. 
 Human nature has limitations, and failure would 
 have been no discredit to Elspeth. 
 
 " They were sayin' at the Presbytery/' Burnbrae 
 reported, "that it hes mair than seeventy heads, 
 coontin' pints, of coorse, and a* can weel believe 
 it. Na, na; it's no tae be expeckit that Elspeth 
 cud gie them a' aifter ae hearin'/* 
 
 Jamie Soutar looked in to set his mind at rest, 
 and Elspeth went at once to work. 
 
 " Sit doon, Jamie, for it canna be dune in a 
 meenut." 
 
 It took twenty-three minutes exactly, for Jamie 
 watched the clock. 
 
 " That's the laist, makin' seeventy-four, and 
 ye may depend on every ane but that fourth 
 pint under the sixth head. Whether it wes the 
 { beginnin' o* faith* or 'the origin/ a' canna be 
 sure, for he cleared his throat at the time." 
 
 Peter Bruce stood helpless at the Junction next 
 Friday Drumtochty was celebrating Elspeth 
 and the achievement established her for life. 
 
 Probationers who preached in the vacancy had 
 
142 A WISE WOMAN. 
 
 heard rumours, and tried to identify their judge, 
 with the disconcerting result that they addressed 
 their floweriest passages to Mistress Stirton, who 
 was the stupidest woman in the Free Kirk, and had 
 once stuck in the " chief end of man." They 
 never suspected the sonsy, motherly woman, two 
 pews behind Donald Menzies, with her face of 
 demure interest and general air of country 
 simplicity. It was as well for the probationers 
 that they had not caught the glint of those black, 
 beady eyes. 
 
 " It's curious," Mrs. Macfadyen remarked to me 
 one day, " hoo the pulpit fashions change, juist 
 like weemen's bonnets. 
 
 " Noo a' mind when auld Doctor Ferintosh, him 
 'at wrote 'Judas Iscariot the first Residuary/ 
 would stand twa meenutes facing the fouk, and no 
 sit doon till he hed his snuff. 
 
 " But thae young birkies gie oot 'at they see 
 naebody comin' in, an' cover their face wi' ae hand 
 sae solemn, that if ye didna catch them keekin' 
 through their fingers tae see what like the kirk is, 
 ye wud think they were prayin'." 
 
 " There's not much escapes you," I dared to say, 
 and although the excellent woman was not acces- 
 sible to gross flattery, she seemed pleased. 
 
 " A'm thankfu' that a' can see withoot lookin'; 
 an' a'll wager nae man ever read his sermon in 
 Drumtochty Kirk, an' a' didna find him oot. Noo, 
 there's the new minister o' Netheraird, he writes 
 his sermon on ae side o' ten sheets o' paper, an' 
 he's that carried awa' at the end o' ilka page that 
 he disna ken what he's daein', an' the sleeve o' his 
 goon slips the sheet across tae the ither side o' the 
 Bible. 
 
OUR SERMON TASTER. 143 
 
 " But Doctor Ferintosh wes cleverer, sail it near 
 beat me tae detect him," and Elspeth paused to 
 enjoy the pulpit ruse. " It cam' tae me sudden ae 
 Sacrament Monday, hoo dis he aye turn up twal 
 texts, naither mair nor less, and that set me think- 
 in'. Then a' noticed that he left the Bible open at 
 the place till anither text was due, an* I wunnered 
 a'd been sae slow. It was this wy: he askit the 
 beadle for a gless o' water in the vestry, and slippet 
 his sermon in atween the leaves in sae mony bits. 
 A've wished for a gallery at a time, but there's 
 mair credit in fmdin' it oot below ay, an' pleasure 
 tae; a' never wearied in kirk in ma life." 
 
 Mrs. Macfadyen did not appreciate prodigal quo- 
 tations of Scriptures, and had her suspicions of this 
 practice. 
 
 " Tak the minister o' Pitscourie noo ; he's fair 
 fozzy wi' trokin' in his gairden an' feedin' pigs, and 
 hesna studied a sermon for thirty year. 
 
 " Sae what dis he dae, think ye ? He havers for 
 a while on the errors o* the day, and syne he says, 
 ' That's what man says, but what says the Apostle 
 Paul ? We shall see what the Apostle Paul says.' 
 He puts on his glasses, and turns up the passage, 
 and reads maybe ten verses, and then he's aff on 
 the jundy [trot] again. When a man hes naethin' 
 tae say he's aye lang, and a've seen him gie half an 
 oor o' passages, and anither half oor o' havers. 
 
 " ' He's a Bible preacher, at any rate,' says Burn- 
 brae tae me laist Fast, for, honest man, he hes aye 
 some gude word for a body. 
 
 "' It's ae thing,' I said to him, ' tae feed a calf wi* 
 milk, and anither tae gie it the empty cogie tae lick/ 
 
 " It's curious, but a've noticed that when a 
 Moderate gets lazy he preaches auld sermons, but 
 
144 A WISE WOMAN. 
 
 a Free Kirk minister taks tae abusin' his neeburs 
 and readin' screeds o' the Bible. 
 
 " But Maister Pittendreigh hes twa sermons, at 
 ony rate," and Elspeth tasted the sweets of memory 
 with such keen relish that I begged for a share. 
 
 " Well, ye see he's terrible prood o' his feenishes, 
 and this is ane o' them : 
 
 " * Heaven, ma brethren, will be far grander than 
 the hoose o'ony earthly potentate, for there ye will 
 no longer eat the flesh of bulls nor drink the blood 
 o' goats, but we shall sook the juicy pear and 
 scoop the loocious meelon. Amen.' 
 
 " He hes nae mair sense o' humour than an owl, 
 and a' aye haud that a man withoot humour sudna 
 be allowed intae a poopit. 
 
 " A* hear that they have nae examination in 
 humour at the college ; it's an awfu' want, for it 
 wud keep oot mony a dreich body. 
 
 " But the meelon's naethin' tae the goat, that 
 cowed a'thing, at the Fast tae. 
 
 " If Jeems wes aboot a' daurna mention 't: he 
 canna behave himsel' tae this day gin he hears o' 
 it, though ye ken he's a douce man as ever lived. 
 
 " It wes anither feenish, and it ran this wy : 
 
 " * Noo, ma freends, a' wull no be keepin'ye ony 
 longer, and ye'ill a' gae hame tae yir ain hooses 
 and mind yir ain business. And as sune as ye get 
 hame ilka man 'ill gae tae his closet and shut the 
 door, and stand for five meenutes, and ask himsel' 
 this solemn question, "Am I a goat ? " Amen.' 
 
 " The amen near upset me masel', and a' hed tae 
 dunge Jeems wi* ma elbow. 
 
 " He said no a word on the wy back, but a' saw 
 it wes barmin' in him, and he gied oot sudden 
 aifter his dinner as if he had been ta'en unweel. 
 
OUR SERMON TASTER. 145 
 
 " A' cam' on him in the byre, rowing in the strae 
 like a bairn, and every ither row he took he wud 
 say, ' Am I a goat ? ' 
 
 " It wes na cannie for a man o' his wecht, be- 
 sides bein' a married man and a kirk member, and 
 a* gied him a hearin'. 
 
 " He sobered doon, and a* never saw him dae 
 the like since. But he hesna forgot, na, na; a've 
 seen a look come ower Jeems' face in kirk, and a've 
 been feared." 
 
 When the Free Kirk quarrelled in their vacancy 
 over two probationers, Mrs. MacFadyen summed 
 them up with such excellent judgment that they 
 were thrown over and peace restored. 
 
 " There's some o' thae Muirtown drapers can 
 busk oot their windows that ye canna pass withoot 
 lookin' ; there's bits o' blue and bits o' red, and a 
 ribbon here an' a lace yonder. 
 
 " It's a bonnie show and denty, an* no wunner 
 the lassies stan' and stare. 
 
 " But gae intae the shop, and peety me, there's 
 next tae naethin' ; it's a' in the window. 
 
 " Noo, that's Maister Popinjay, as neat an' 
 fikey a little mannie as ever a' saw in a black 
 goon. 
 
 " His bit sermon wes six poems five a* hed 
 heard afore four anecdotes three aboot himsel' 
 and ain aboot a lord twa burnies, ae floo'r gair- 
 den, and a snowstorm, wi' the text thirteen times 
 and 'beloved ' twal : that was a' ; a takin' win- 
 dow, and Netherton's lassies cudna sleep thinkin* 
 o' him. 
 
 " There's ither shopmen in Muirtown that fair 
 scunner ye wi' their windows they're that ill set 
 out and inside there's sic a wale o' stuff that the 
 
146 A WISE WOMAN. 
 
 man canna get what ye want ; he's clean smoored 
 wi' his ain goods. 
 
 " It's a graund shop for the old fouk that hae 
 plenty o' time and can turn ower the things by the 
 oor. Ye'ill no get a young body inside the door. 
 
 " That's Maister Auchtermuchty ; he hes mair 
 material than he kens hoo tae handle, and naebody, 
 hearin' him, can mak head or tail o' his sermon. 
 
 " Ye get a rive at the Covenants ae meenut, 
 an' a mouthfu' o' justification the next. Yir nae 
 suner wi' the Patriarchs than yir whuppit aff tae 
 the Apostles. 
 
 " It's rich feedin', nae doot, but sair mixed an* 
 no verra tasty." 
 
 So the old and young compromised, and chose 
 Carmichael. 
 
 Elspeth was candid enough on occasion, but she 
 was not indiscreet. She could convey her mind 
 delicately if need be, and was a mistress of subtle 
 suggestion. 
 
 When Netherton's nephew preached the mis- 
 sionary sermon he was a stout young man with 
 a volcanic voice Mrs. Macfadyen could not shirk 
 her duty, but she gave her judgment with care. 
 
 " He's a fine lad, and 'ill be sure to get a kirk ; 
 he's been weel brocht up, and comes o' decent 
 fouk. 
 
 " His doctrine soonds richt, and he'ill no gang 
 aff the track. Ye canna ca' him bashfu', and he's 
 sure to be heard." 
 
 Her audience still waited, and not in vain. 
 
 " But the Lord hes nae pleesure in the legs 
 o' a man," and every one felt that the last word 
 had been said on Netherton's nephew. 
 
II. 
 
 THE COLLAPSE OF MRS. MACFADYEN. 
 
 CARMICHAEL used to lament bitterly that he 
 had lost his Gaelic, and laboured plans of com- 
 pensation for our Celts, who were understood to 
 worship in English at an immense reduction of 
 profit. One spring he intercepted a Highland 
 minister, who was returning from his winter's raid 
 on Glasgow with great spoil, and arranged an 
 evening service, which might carry Lachlan Camp- 
 bell back to the golden days of Auchindarroch. 
 Mr. Dugald Mactavish was himself much im- 
 pressed with the opportunity of refreshing his 
 exiled brethren, speaking freely on the Saturday 
 of the Lowlands as Babylon, and the duty of 
 gathering the outcasts of Israel into one. He was 
 weaned with difficulty from Gaelic, and only con- 
 sented to preach in the " other language " on con- 
 dition that he should not be restricted in time. 
 His soul had been much hampered in West End 
 churches, where he had to appeal for his new 
 stove under the first head, lest he should go empty 
 away; and it was natural for one escaping from 
 such bondage to put a generous interpretation 
 on Carmichael's concession. So Maister Dugald 
 continued unto the setting of the sun. His dis- 
 course was so rich and varied that Pedclie of Muir- 
 town on original sin was not to be compared with 
 
148 A WISE WOMAN. 
 
 it in breadth of treatment, and Mrs. Macfadyen 
 confessed frankly that she gave up in despair before 
 the preacher had fairly entered on his second hour. 
 Besides the encounter of the preacher with Mr. 
 Urijah Hopps, which carried the Glen by storm, 
 and kept the name of Mactavish green with us 
 for a generation. 
 
 Rumours of this monumental pulpit effort, with 
 its stirring circumstances, passed from end to end 
 of the Glen during the week, and Peter himself 
 recognised that it was an occasion at the Junction 
 on Friday. 
 
 " Ye may as weel shut aff the steam, Jeems," 
 Peter explained to our engine-driver, "an* gie 
 them ten meenuts. It's been by ordinar' at 
 Drumtochty Free Kirk laist Sabbath nicht, and 
 Drumsheugh 'ill no move till he hears the end o't." 
 
 And as soon as the Muirtown train had removed 
 all strangers, that worthy man opened the campaign. 
 
 "What kin' o' collieshangie [disturbance] is 
 this ye've been carryin' on, Hillocks? It's doon- 
 richt aggravatin' that ye're no content pesterin' 
 oor life oot wi' that English body in the kirkyaird, 
 but ye maist needs set him up tae arglebargle 
 wi' a stranger minister at the Free Kirk. They 
 say that the puir man cud hardly get a word in 
 atween you and yir lodger. Burnbrae here is 
 threatenin' ye wi' the Sherra, and a* dinna wonder. 
 
 " It's nae lauchin' maitter, a' can tell ye, 
 Drumsheugh ; a've never been sae black affrontit 
 a' ma life. Burnbrae kens as weel as ye dae that 
 a' wasna tae blame. 
 
 " Ye'ill better clear yersel' at ony rate, Hil- 
 locks, for some o' the neeburs threep [insist] 'at 
 it wes you, and some that it wes yir freend, an* 
 
THE COLLAPSE OF MRS. MACFADYEN. 149 
 
 there's ithers declare ye ran in compt [company] 
 like twa dogs worrying sheep ; it wes a bonnie 
 like pliskie [escapade] onywy, and hardly fit for an 
 Auld Kirk elder" a sally much enjoyed by the 
 audience, who knew that, after Whinnie, Hillocks 
 was the doucest man in Drumtochty. 
 
 " Weel, ye see it wes this wy," began Hillocks, 
 with the air of a man on his trial for fire raising : 
 " Hopps fund oot that a Hielandman wes tae preach 
 in the Free Kirk, and naethin' wud sateesfy him 
 but that we maun gae. A' micht hae jaloused 
 [suspected] it wesna the sermon the wratch wantit, 
 for he hed the impidence tae complain that the 
 Doctor was tedious Sabbath a fortnicht when he 
 gied us ' Ruth,' though I never minded ' Ruth 'gae 
 aff sae sweet a' the times a've heard it. 
 
 " Gin a' hed imagined what the ettercap [captious 
 creature] wes aifter a' wud hae seen ma feet in the 
 fire afore they carried me tae the Free Kirk that 
 nicht. 
 
 " Says he tae me on the road, ' A'm told the 
 minister will be in his national costume." 
 
 " ' He'ill be in his goon and band,' says I, ' if 
 that's what ye mean,' for the head o' him is fu' o 
 maggots and nae man can tell what he wull be at 
 next. 
 
 " ' Mister Soutar said that he would wear his 
 kilt, and that it would be an interesting spectacle.' 
 
 " ' Jamie's been drawing yir leg [befooling you]/ 
 says I. ' Man, there's naebody wears a kilt forbye 
 gemkeepers and tourist bodies. Ye'ill better come 
 awa' hame,' and sail, if a' hed kent what wes tae 
 happen, a' wud hae taken him aff below ma oxter. 
 
 " It's no richt tae mak me responsible, for a* 
 tried tae wile him awa tae the back o' the kirk 
 
ISO A WISE WOMAN. 
 
 whar naebody cud see him, but he's that thravvn 
 and upsettin', if he didna gae tae the verra front 
 seat afore the poopit. 
 
 " ' I want a good position," says he ; ' I'll see 
 everything here ; ' sae a' left him an' gied tae 
 Elspeth Macfadyen's seat. 
 
 " ' He's anxious tae hear/ she said, ' an' a'm 
 thinkin' he'ill get mair than he expecks. A' wish 
 it wes weel ow.er masel', Hillocks ; it'ill be an awfu' 
 nicht.' 
 
 " Thae Hielandmen dinna pit aff time wi' the 
 preleeminaries, but they were lang eneuch tae let 
 onybody see what kin' o' man Mactavish wes. 
 
 " A gruesome carle, neeburs, wi' his hair hangin' 
 roond his face like a warlock and his een blazin' 
 oot o' his head like fire ; the sicht o' him is sure 
 tae sober Hopps, thinks I. 
 
 " But no, there's some fouk 'ill tak nae warnin' ; 
 there he was, sittin' in front o' Mactavish with his 
 thumbs in his airm-holes, and a watch gaird spread 
 richt across him, and ae leg cocked over the ither, 
 the verra eemage of a bantam cock fleein' in the 
 face o' judgment." 
 
 Drumtochty had never moved during this his- 
 tory, and now they drew closer round Hillocks, on 
 whom the mantle of speech had for once descended. 
 
 " Mactavish lookit at the body aince, and he 
 lookit again, juist tae gie him fair notis, and then 
 he broke oot in face o' the hale congregation ; 
 
 "' There's nothing in all the world so deceptive 
 as sin, for outside it's like a bonnie summer day, 
 and inside it's as black as hell. 
 
 " ' Now here iss this fat little man sittin' before 
 me with his suit o' blue clothes so bonnie and 
 dainty, and a watch guard as thick as my finger 
 
THE COLLAPSE OF MRS. MACFADYEN. 15 1 
 
 on his wame, smilin' an' smirkin', and real well 
 contented with himself, but if he wass opened up 
 what a sight it would be for men and angels. Oh 
 yes, yes ! it would be a fearsome sicht, and no man 
 here would be able to look/ 
 
 " A' tell ye, neeburs, ye micht hae heard a pin 
 fa' tae the ground, and ma heart was thumping in 
 ma briest ; a' wudna come thro' the like o' yon 
 again for half the pleenishin' o' Hillocks." 
 
 There was not a sound at the junction save the 
 steam escaping from the engine, and Hillocks re- 
 sumed : 
 
 " But the worst's comin'. Hopps jumps up and 
 faces Mactavish a'll no deny there is some spunk 
 in the body. 
 
 " ' What right have you to speak like that to 
 me ? Do you know who I am ? ' 
 
 " He hed better been quiet, for he wes nae match 
 for yon Hielandman. 
 
 " Mactavish glowered at him for maybe a mee- 
 nut till the puir cratur fell back intae his seat. 
 
 " ' Man/ says Mactavish, ' I do not know who 
 you are, and I do not know what you are, and I 
 shall not be asking who you are, and I am not car- 
 ing though you be MacCallummore himsel'. You 
 are just a parable ; oh, yes ! just a parable. 
 
 " ' But if ye be convicted of secret sin ye may 
 go out, and if there be anybody else whose sins 
 have been laid bare he may go out too, and if no- 
 body wants to go out, then I will be going on with 
 the sermon, oh, yes ! for it will not do to be spend- 
 ing all our time on parables/ 
 
 " As sure as a'm stannin' here ye cudna see 
 Hopps inside his claithes when Mactavish wes 
 dune wi' him." 
 
152 A WISE WOMAN. 
 
 When the train started Hillocks received the 
 compliments of the third with much modesty, and 
 added piquant details regarding the utter confusion 
 of our sermon taster. 
 
 " ' Did ye follow ? ' a' speirit o' Elspeth afore a' 
 went tae pit Hopps thegither. 
 
 " ' Cud a' follow a bumbee ? ' was the only word 
 a' got frae her ; a' saw she was beaten for aince 
 and wes rael mad." 
 
 " Is't true Elspeth scuffled wi' her feet at the 
 laist head and gar'd him close ? " 
 
 " A'll neither deny nor affirm, Drumsheugh ; but 
 there's nae doot when the mune began tae shine 
 aboot nine, and Mactavish started aff on the Devil, 
 somebody scrapit aside me. It wesna Jeems ; he 
 daurna for his life ; and it wesna me. A'll no say 
 but it micht be Elspeth, but she was sair provokit. 
 Aifter haddin' her ain twenty years, tae be maistered 
 by a Hielandman ! " 
 
 It was simply a duty of friendship to look in and 
 express one's sympathy with Mrs. Macfadyen in 
 this professional disaster. I found her quite will- 
 ing to go over the circumstances, which were un- 
 exampled in her experience, and may indeed be 
 considered a contribution to history. 
 
 " A' wudna hae minded," explained Elspeth, 
 settling down to narrative, " hoo mony heads he 
 gied oot, no tho' he hed titched the hundred. A've 
 cause tae be gratefu' for a guid memory, and a've 
 kept it in fine fettle wi' sermons. My wy is tae 
 place ilka head at the end o' a shelf and a' the 
 pints aifter it in order like the plates there," and 
 Mrs. Macfadyen pointed with honest pride to her 
 wall of crockery, " and when the minister is at an 
 illustration or makin' an appeal a' aye rin ower the 
 
THE COLLAPSE OF MRS. MACFADYEN. 153 
 
 rack tae see that a've a' the pints in their places. 
 Maister Mactavish cud ne'er hae got the wheep- 
 hand o' me wi f his diveesions ; he's no fit to haud 
 the can'le tae John Peddie. Na, na ; a' wesna 
 feared o' that when a' examined yon man gieing 
 oot the Psalm, but a' didna like his een. 
 
 " * He's ravelled,' a' said tae masel, ' without 
 beginning or end ; we'ill hae a nicht o't,' and sae 
 we hed." 
 
 I preserved a sympathetic silence till Mrs. Mac- 
 fadyen felt herself able to proceed. 
 
 " It's easy eneuch, ye see, for an auld hand tae 
 manage ae set o' heads gin they come tae ten or a 
 hundred, but it's another business when a mat hes 
 different sets in ae sermon. Noo, hoo mony sets 
 div ye think that man hed afore he wes dune ? " 
 
 It was vain for a mere layman to cope with the 
 possibilities of Mr. Mactavish. 
 
 " Fower, as a'm a leevin' woman, and that's no 
 a'; he didna feenish wi' ae set an' begin wi' the 
 next, but if he didna mix them a' thegither ! 
 Fower set o' heads, a' in a tangle ; noo ye hae 
 some kin' o' idee o' what a' hed tae face." And 
 Mrs. Macfadyen paused that I might take in the 
 situation. 
 
 When I expressed my conviction that even the 
 most experienced hearer was helpless in such cir- 
 cumstances, Elspeth rallied, and gave me to under- 
 stand that she had saved some fragments from the 
 wreckage. 
 
 " A'll juist tell ye the hale hypothic, for sic a 
 discoorse ye may never hear a' the days o' yir 
 life. 
 
 " Ye ken thae Hielandmen tak their texts for the 
 maist pairt frae the Auld Testament, and this was 
 
154 A WISE WOMAN. 
 
 it mair or less, ' The trumpet shall be blown, and 
 they shall come from Assyria and the land o' 
 Egypt/ and he began by explainin' that there 
 were twa classes in Drumtochty those who were 
 born and bred in the parish, which were oursels', 
 and them 'at hed tae stay here owin' tae the 
 mysterious dispensation of Providence, which wes 
 Lachlan Campbell. 
 
 " Noo this roosed ma suspicions, for it's against 
 reason for a man tae be dividing intae classes till 
 the end o' his sermon. Tak my word, it's no 
 chancy when a minister begins at the tail o' his 
 subject : he'll wind a queer pirn afore he's dune." 
 
 " Weel, he gaed up and he gaed doon, and 
 he aye said, 'Oh, yes, yes! ' juist like the thrash- 
 ing mill at Drumsheugh scraiking and girling 
 till it's fairly aff, an' by and by oot he comes wi' 
 his heads. 
 
 " ' There are fower trumpets,' says he. ' First, 
 a leeteral trumpet ; second, a heestorical trumpet ; 
 third, a metaphorical trumpet ; fourth, a speeritual 
 trumpet.' 
 
 " ' I've got ye,' a' said tae masel, and settled 
 doon to hear him on the first head, for fear he 
 micht hae pints; but wull ye believe me, he 
 barely mentioned leeteral till he was aff tae 
 speeritual, and then back tae heestorical, an' in 
 five minutes he had the hale fower trumpets 
 blawing thegither. 
 
 "It was maist exasperatin', and a* saw Jeems 
 watchin' me but that's naethin'. 
 
 " ' There be many trumpets,' says he, * oh, yes r 
 an' it wes a good trumpet Zaccheus heard,' and 
 afore a' knew where a' wes he hed startit again \vi' 
 fower new heads, as if he had never said trumpet. 
 
THE COLLAPSE OF MRS. MACFADYEN. 155 
 
 " ' A big tree,' he cries, * an' a little man, oh, 
 yes ! an' this is what we will be doin'. 
 
 " ' First. We shall go up the tree wi' Zac- 
 cheus. 
 
 " Second. We shall sit in the branches wi' 
 Zaccheus. 
 
 " ' Third. We shall come down from the tree 
 wi' Zaccheus ; and if time permits, 
 
 " ' Fourth. We shall be going home wi' the 
 publican.' " 
 
 It seemed only just to pay a tribute at this point 
 to the wonderful presence of mind Mrs. Macfadyen 
 had shown amid unparalleled difficulties. 
 
 " Hoot awa," she responded ; " the meenut ony 
 heads cam' a' knew ma grund ; but the times 
 atween I wes fairly lost. 
 
 " A'll no deny," and our critic turned aside to 
 general reflections, " that Mactavish said mony 
 bonnie and affeckin' things frae time tae time, 
 like the glimpses o' the hills ye get when the mist 
 rolls awa, and he cam' nearer the hert than the 
 feck o' oor preachers , but certes yon confusion 
 is mair than us low-country fouk cud stand. 
 
 " Juist when he wes speakin' aboot Zaccheus as 
 nice as ye please though whether he was up the 
 tree or doon the tree a' cudna for the life o' me 
 tell he stops sudden and looks at us ower the top 
 o' his spectacles, which is terrible impressive, and 
 near dis instead o' speakin'. 
 
 " ' We will now come to the third head of this 
 discoorse. 
 
 " ' The trumpet shall be blown, for,' says he, in 
 a kin' o' whisper, ' there's a hint o' oppeesition 
 here,' an' a' tell ye honestly a' lost hert a'thegither, 
 for here he wes back again amang the trumpets. 
 
I$6 A WISE WOMAN. 
 
 and a'll gie ma aith he never sae much as men- 
 tioned that head afore. 
 
 " It's an awfu' peety that some men dinna ken 
 when tae stop ; they micht see frae the poopit ; if 
 a' saw the tears comin' tae the women's een, or 
 the men glowering like wild cats for fear they sud 
 brak doon, a'd say Amen as quick as Pittendreigh 
 aifter his goat. 
 
 " What possessed Maister Dugald, as Lachlan 
 ca'd him, a' dinna ken, but aboot half nine an* 
 he begood at six he set oot upon the trumpets 
 again, an' when he cudna get a haud o' them, he 
 says : 
 
 " ' It will be getting dark' (the mune was fairly 
 oot), ' an' it is time we were considering our last 
 head. 
 
 " ' We will now study Satan in all his offices and 
 characteristics.' 
 
 " A' see they've been telling ye what happened, 1 * 
 and confusion covered Mrs. Macfadyen's ingenuous 
 countenance. 
 
 " Weel, as sure's deith a' cudna help it ; tae be 
 sittin' on peens for mair than twa oors trym* tae 
 get a grup o' a man's heads, an' him tae play hide- 
 and-seek wi' ye, an' then tae begin on S^can at 
 nine o'clock is mair nor flesh and blood could 
 endure. 
 
 " A' acknowledge a' scrapit, but a' houp tae 
 gudeness a'll never be tempted like yon again. 
 
 " It's a judgment on me for ma pride, an Jeems 
 said that tae me, for a' boastit a' cudna i^e beat, 
 but anither oor o' Mactavish wud ha' driven me 
 dottie [sillyj." 
 
 Then I understood that Mrs. Macfadyen had 
 been humbled in the dust. 
 
A DOCTOR OF THE OLD 
 SCHOOL. 
 
 A GENERAL PRACTITIONER. 
 
 DRUMTOCHTY was accustomed to break every 
 law of health, except wholesome f9od and fresh 
 air, and yet had reduced the Psalmist's farthest 
 limit to an average life-rate. Our men made no 
 difference in their clothes for summer or winter, 
 Drumsheugh and one or two of the larger farmers 
 condescending to a topcoat on Sabbath, as a 
 penalty of their position, and without regard to 
 temperature. They wore their blacks at a funeral, 
 refusing to cover them with anything, out of 
 respect to the deceased, and standing longest in 
 the kirkyard when the north wind was blowing 
 across a hundred miles of snow. If the rain was 
 pouring at the Junction, then Drumtochty stood 
 two minutes longer through sheer native dourness 
 till each man had a cascade from the tail of his 
 coat, and hazarded the suggestion, halfway to 
 Kildrummie, that it had been " a bit scrowie," a 
 " scrowie " being as far short of a " shoor " as a 
 shoor " fell below " vveet." 
 
 This sustained defiance of the elements pro- 
 
I5S A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 voked occasional judgments in the shape of a 
 " hoast " (cough), and the head of the house was 
 then exhorted by his women folk to " change his 
 feet " if he had happened to walk through a burn 
 on his way home, and was pestered generally with 
 sanitary precautions. It is right to add that the 
 gudeman treated such advice with contempt, re- 
 garding it as suitable for the effeminacy of towns, 
 but not seriously intended for Drumtochty. Sandy 
 Stewart " napped " stones on the road in his shirt 
 sleeves, wet or fair, summer and winter, till he was 
 persuaded to retire from active duty at eighty-five, 
 and he spent ten years more in regretting his 
 hastiness and criticising his successor. The ordi- 
 nary course of life, with fine air and contented 
 minds, was to do a full share of work till seventy, 
 and then to look after " orra " jobs well into the 
 eighties, and to " slip awa " within sight of ninety. 
 Persons above ninety were understood to be ac- 
 quitting themselves with credit, and assumed airs 
 of authority, brushing aside the opinions of seventy 
 as immature, and confirming their conclusions 
 with illustrations drawn from the end of last 
 century. 
 
 When Hillocks' brother so far forgot himself as 
 to " slip awa " at sixty, that worthy man was scan- 
 dalised and offered laboured explanations at the 
 "beerial." 
 
 " It's an awfu' business ony wy ye look at it, an' 
 a sair trial tae us a'. A' never heard tell o' sic a 
 thing in oor family afore, an' it's no easy accoontin' 
 for't. 
 
 " The gudewife was sayin' he vves never the 
 same sin' a weet nicht he lost himsel on the muir 
 and slept below a bush ; but that's neither here 
 
A GENERAL PRACTITIONER. I$9 
 
 nor there. A'm thinkin' he sappit his constitution 
 t'nae twa years he wes grieve aboot England. 
 That wes thirty years syne, but ye're never the 
 same aifter thae foreign climates." 
 
 Drumtochty listened patiently to Hillocks' apo- 
 logia, but was not satisfied. 
 
 " It's clean havers aboot the muir. Losh keep's, 
 we've a' sleepit oot and never been a hair the 
 waur. 
 
 " A' admit that England micht hae dune the 
 job ; it's no cannie stravagin' yon wy frae place tae 
 place, but Drums never complained tae me as if he 
 heel been nippit in the Sooth." 
 
 The parish had, in fact, lost confidence in Drums 
 after his wayward experiment with a potato-digging 
 machine, which turned out a lamentable failure, 
 and his premature departure confirmed our vague 
 impression of his character. 
 
 " He's awa noo," Drumsheugh summed up, after 
 opinion had time to form ; " an* there were waur 
 fouk than Drums, but there's nae doot he wes a 
 wee flichty." 
 
 When illness had the audacity to attack a Drum- 
 tochty man, it was described as a " whup," and 
 was treated by the men with a fine negligence. 
 Hillocks was sitting in the Post Office one after- 
 noon when I looked in for my letters, and the right 
 side of his face was blazing red. His subject of 
 discourse was the prospects of the turnip " breer," 
 but he casually explained that he was waiting for 
 medical advice. 
 
 "The gudewife is keepin' up a ding-dong frae 
 mornin' till nicht aboot ma face, and a'm fair 
 deaved [deafened], so a'm watchin' for MacLure 
 tae get a bottle as he comes wast ; yon's him noo." 
 
l6o A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 The doctor made his diagnosis from horseback 
 on sight, and stated the result with that admirable 
 clearness which endeared him to Drumtochty. 
 
 " Confoond ye, Hillocks, what are ye ploiterin' 
 aboot here for in the weet wi' a face like a boiled 
 beet ? Div ye no ken that yeVe a tetch o' the 
 rose [erysipelas], and ocht tae be in the hoose ? 
 Gae hame wi' ye afore a' leave the bit, and send 
 a hafli.n for some medicine. Ye donnerd idiot, are 
 ye ettlin tae follow Drums afore yir time ? " And 
 the medical attendant of Drumtochty continued 
 his invective till Hillocks started, and still pursued 
 his retreating figure with medical directions of 
 a simple and practical character. 
 
 " A'm watchin', an' peety ye if ye pit aff time. 
 Keep yir bed the mornin', and dinna show yir face 
 in the fields till a' see ye. A'll gie ye a cry on 
 Monday sic an auld fule but there's no ane 
 o' them tae mind anither in the hale pairish." 
 
 Hillocks' wife informed the kirkyard that the 
 doctor " gied the gudeman an awfu' clearin'," and 
 that Hillocks "wes keepin' the hoose," which 
 meant that the patient had tea breakfast, and at 
 that time was wandering about the farm buildings 
 in an easy undress with his head in a plaid. 
 
 It was impossible for a doctor to earn even the 
 most modest competence from a people of such 
 scandalous health, and so MacLure had annexed 
 neighbouring parishes. His house little more 
 than a cottage stood on the roadside among the 
 pines towards the head of our Glen, and from this 
 base of operations he dominated the wild glen that 
 broke the wall of the Grampians above Drum- 
 tochty where the snowdrifts were twelve feet 
 deep in winter, and the only way of passage at 
 
A GENERAL PRACTITIONER. l6l 
 
 times was the channel of the river and the moor- 
 land district westwards till he came to the Dun- 
 leith sphere of influence, where there were four 
 doctors and a hydropathic. Drumtochty in its 
 length, which was eight miles, and its breadth, 
 which was four, lay in his hand ; besides a glen 
 behind, unknown to the world, which in the night 
 time he visited at the risk of life, for the^ way 
 thereto was across the big moor with its peat 
 holes and treacherous bogs. And he held the 
 land eastwards towards Muirtown so far as 
 Geordie, the Drumtochty post, travelled every day, 
 and could carry word that the doctor was wanted. 
 He did his best for the need of every man, woman, 
 and child in this wild, straggling district, year in, 
 year out, in the snow and in the heat, in the dark 
 and in the light, without rest, and without holiday 
 for forty years. 
 
 One horse could not do the work of this man, 
 but we liked best to see him on his old white mare, 
 who died the week after her master, and the pass- 
 ing of the two did our hearts good. It was not 
 that he rode beautifully, for he broke every canon 
 of art, flying with his arms, stooping till he seemed 
 to be speaking into Jess's ears, and rising in the 
 saddle beyond all necessity. But he could ride 
 faster, stay longer in the saddle, and had a firmer 
 grip with his knees than anyone I ever met, and 
 it was all for mercy's sake. When the reapers in 
 harvest time saw a figure whirling past in a cloud 
 of dust, or the family at the foot of Glen Urtach, 
 gathered round the fire on a winter's night, heard 
 the rattle of a horse's hoofs on the road, or the 
 shepherds, out after the sheep, traced a black speck 
 moving across the snow to ths upper glen, they 
 
C62 A DOCTOK OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 knew it was the doctor, and without being con- 
 scious of it, wished him God speed. 
 
 Before and behind his saddle were strapped the 
 instruments and medicines the doctor might want, 
 for he never knew what was before him. There 
 were no specialists in Drumtochty, so this man had 
 to do everything as best he could, and as quickly. 
 He was chest doctor, and doctor for every other 
 organ as well ; he was accoucheur and surgeon ; 
 he was oculist and aurist ; he was dentist and 
 chloroformist, besides being chemist and druggist, 
 It was often told how he was far up Glen Urtach 
 when the feeders of the threshing mill caught 
 young Burnbrae, and how he only stopped to 
 change horses at his house, and galloped all the 
 way to Burnbrae, and flung himself off his horse 
 and amputated the arm, and saved the lad's life. 
 
 " You wud hae thocht that every meenut was an 
 hour," said Jamie Soutar, who had been at the 
 threshing, " an' a'll never forget the puir lad lying 
 as white as deith on the floor o' the loft, wi' his 
 head on a sheaf, and Burnbrae haudin' the band- 
 age ticht an' prayin' a 1 the while, and the mither 
 greetin' in the corner. 
 
 " ' Will he never come ? ' she cries, an' a' heard 
 the soond o' the horse's feet on the road a mile 
 awa in the frosty air. 
 
 " ' The Lord be praised ! ' said Burnbrae, and a' 
 slippit doon the ladder as the doctor came skelpin' 
 intae the close, the foam fleein' frae his horse's 
 mooth. 
 
 " * Whar is he ? ' wes a' that passed his lips, an* in 
 five meenuts he hed him on the feedin' board, and 
 wes at his wark sic wark, neeburs but he did 
 it weel. An' ae thing a thocht rael thochtfu' o* 
 
A GENERAL PRACTITIONER. I&3 
 
 him ; he first sent aff the laddie's mither tae get a 
 bed ready. 
 
 " ' Noo that's feenished, and his constitution 'ill 
 dae the rest,' and he carried the lad doon the lad- 
 der in his airms like a bairn, and laid him in his 
 bed, and waits aside him till he wes sleepin', and 
 then says he: ' Burnbrae, yir a gey lad never tae 
 say " Collie, will ye lick ? " for a' hevna tasted meat 
 for saxteen hoors.' 
 
 " It was michty tae see him come intae the 
 yaird that day, neeburs ; the verra look o' him 
 wes victory." 
 
 Jamie's cynicism slipped off in the enthusiasm of 
 this reminiscence, and he expressed the feeling of 
 Drumtochty. No one sent for MacLure save in 
 great straits, and the sight of him put courage in 
 sinking hearts. But this was not by the grace of 
 his appearance, or the advantage of a good bedside 
 manner. A tall, gaunt, loosely made man, without 
 an ounce of superfluous flesh on his body, his face 
 burned a dark brick colour by constant exposure to 
 the weather, red hair and beard turning gray, hon- 
 est blue eyes that look you ever in the face, huge 
 hands with wrist bones like the shank of a ham, 
 and a voice that hurled his salutations across 
 two fields, he suggested the moor rather than the 
 drawing-room. But what a clever hand it was in 
 an operation as delicate as a woman's! and what 
 a kindly voice it was in the humble room where 
 the shepherd's wife was weeping by her man's bed- 
 side ! He was " ill pitten thegither " to begin with, 
 but many of his physical defects were the penalties 
 of his work, and endeared him to the Glen. That 
 ugly scar, that cut into his right eyebrow and gave 
 him such a sinister expression, was got one night 
 
1 64 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 Jess slipped on the ice and laid him insensible 
 eight miles from home. His limp marked the big 
 snowstorm in the fifties, when his horse missed the 
 road in Glen Urtach, and they rolled together in a 
 drift. MacLure escaped with a broken leg and the 
 fracture of three ribs, but he never walked like 
 other men again. He could not swing himself 
 into the saddle withojut making two attempts and 
 holding Jess's mane. Neither can you " warstle " 
 through the peat bogs and snowdrifts for forty 
 winters without a touch of rheumatism. But they 
 were honourable scars, and for such risks of life 
 men get the Victoria Cross in other fields. Mac- 
 Lure got nothing but the secret affection of the 
 Glen, which knew that none had ever done one- 
 tenth as much for it as this ungainly, twisted, 
 battered figure, and I have seen a Drumtochty 
 face soften at the sight of MacLure limping to his 
 horse. 
 
 Mr. Hopps earned the ill-will of the Glen for- 
 ever by criticising the doctor's dress, but indeed it 
 would have filled any townsman with amazement. 
 Black he wore once a year, on Sacrament Sunday, 
 and, if possible, at a funeral ; topcoat or waterproof 
 never. His jacket and waistcoat were rough home- 
 spun of Glen Urtach wool, which threw off the wet 
 like a duck's back, and below he was clad in shep- 
 herd's tartan trousers, which disappeared into un- 
 polished riding boots. His shirt was gray flannel, 
 and he was uncertain about a collar, but certain as 
 to a tie which he never had, his beard doing in- 
 stead, and his hat was soft felt of four colours and 
 seven different shapes. His point of distinction in 
 dress was the trousers, and they were the subject 
 of unending speculation. 
 
A GENERAL PRACTITIONER. 165 
 
 " Some threep that he's worn thae eedentical 
 pair the last twenty year, an' a' mind masel' him 
 gettin' a tear ahint, when he was crossin' oor 
 palin', and the mend's still veesible. 
 
 " Ithers declare 'at he's got a wab o' claith, and 
 hes a new pair made in Muirtown aince in the twa 
 year maybe, and keeps them in the garden till the 
 new look wears aff. 
 
 " For ma ain pairt," Soutar used to declare, " a' 
 canna mak up my mind, but there's ae thing sure, 
 the Glen wuclna like tae see him withoot them : 
 it wud be a shock tae confidence. There's no 
 muckle o' the check left, but ye can aye tell it, and 
 when ye see thae breeks comin' in ye ken that if 
 human pooer can save yir bairn's life it 'ill be 
 dune." 
 
 The confidence of the Glen and tributarj 
 states was unbounded, and rested partly on long 
 experience of the doctor's resources, and partly on 
 his hereditary connection. 
 
 "His father was here afore him," Mrs. Mac- 
 fadyen used to explain ; " atween them they've hed 
 the countryside for weel on tae a century ; if Mac- 
 Lure disna understand oor constitution, wha dis, 
 a* wud like tae ask ? " 
 
 For Drumtochty had its own constitution and a 
 special throat disease, as became a parish which 
 was quite self-contained between the woods and 
 the hills, and not dependent on the lowlands either 
 for its diseases or its doctors. 
 
 " He's a skilly man, Doctor Maclure," continued 
 my friend Mrs. Macfadyen, whose judgment on 
 sermons or anything else was seldom at fault ; " an* 
 a kind-hearted, though o' coorse he hes his faults 
 like us a', an' he disna tribble the Kirk often. 
 
166 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 " He aye can tell what's wrong wi' a body, an* 
 maistly he can put ye richt, and there's nae new- 
 fangled wys wi' him : a blister for the ootside an' 
 Epsom salts for the inside dis his wark, an' they 
 say there's no an herb on the hills he disna ken. 
 
 "If we're tae dee, we're tae dee; an' if we're tae 
 live, we're tae live," concluded Elspeth, with sound 
 Calvinistic logic ; " but a'll say this for the doctor, 
 that whether yir tae live or dee, he can aye keep up 
 a sharp meisture on the skin. 
 
 " But he's no verra ceevil gin ye bring him when 
 there's naethin* wrang," and Mrs. Macfadyen's 
 face reflected another of Mr. Hopps' misadventures 
 of which Hillocks held the copyright. 
 
 " Hopps' laddie ate grosarts [gooseberries] till 
 they hed to sit up a' nicht wi' him, an' naethin' 
 wud do but they maun hae the doctor, an' he writes 
 ' immediately' on a slip o' paper. 
 
 " Weel, MacLure had been awa a' night wi' a 
 shepherd's wife Dunleith wy, and he comes here 
 withoot drawin' bridle, mud up tae the een. 
 
 " ' What's adae here, Hillocks ? " he cries ; ' it's 
 no an accident, is't ? " and when he got aff his 
 horse he cud hardly stand wi' stiffness and tire. 
 
 "'It's nane o' us, doctor; it's Hopps' laddie; 
 he's been eatin* ower mony berries." 
 
 " If he didna turn on me like a tiger. 
 
 " ' Div ye mean tae say ' 
 
 " ' Weesht, weesht,' an' I tried tae quiet him, for 
 Hopps wes coomin' oot. 
 
 " ' Well, doctor,' begins he, as brisk as a magpie 
 ' you're here at last ; there's no hurry with you 
 Scotchmen. My boy has been sick all night, and 
 I've never had a wink of sleep. You might have 
 come a little quicker, that's all I've got to say.' 
 
A GENERAL PRACTITIONER. 167 
 
 " ' We've mair tae dae in Drumtochty than 
 attend tae every bairn that hes a sair stomach/ and 
 a' saw MacLure was roosed. 
 
 " ' I'm astonished to hear you speak. Our doc- 
 tor at home always says to Mrs. 'Opps, " Look on 
 me as a family friend, Mrs. 'Opps, and send for me 
 though it be only a headache." ' 
 
 " ' He'd be mair spairin' o' his offers if he hed 
 four and twenty mile tae look aifter. There's nae- 
 thin' wrang wi' yir laddie but greed. Gie him a 
 gude dose o' castor oil and stop his meat for a day, 
 an* he'ill be a' richt the morn.' 
 
 " ' He'ill not take castor oil, doctor. We have 
 given up those barbarous medicines.' 
 
 " ' Whatna kind o' medicines hae ye noo in the 
 Sooth ? ' 
 
 " ' Well, ypu see, Dr. MacLure, we're homce- 
 opathists, and I've my little chest here/ and oot 
 Hopps comes wi' his boxy. 
 
 " Let's se't/ an' MacLure sits doon and taks oot 
 the bit bottles, and he reads the names wi' a 
 lauch every time. 
 
 "'Belladonna; did ye ever hear the like? 
 Aconite ; it cowes a'. Nux Vomica. What next ? 
 Weel, ma mannie/ he says tae Hopps, ' it's a fine 
 ploy, and ye'ill better gang on wi' the Nux till it's 
 dune, and gie him ony ither o' the sweeties he 
 fancies. 
 
 " ' Noo, Hillocks, a' maun be aff tae see Drum- 
 sheugh's grieve, for he's doon wi' the fever, and 
 it's tae be a teuch fecht. A' hinna time tae wait 
 for dinner; gie me some cheese an' cake in ma 
 haund, and Jess 'ill take a pail o' meal an' water. 
 
 " ' Fee ; a'm no wantin' yir fees, man ; wi' that 
 boxy ye dinna need a doctor; na, na, gie yir 
 
168 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 siller tae some puir body, Maister Hopps,' an 
 he was doon the road as hard as he cud lick." 
 
 His fees were pretty much what the folk chose 
 to give him, and he collected them once a year at 
 Kiklrummie fair. 
 
 "Weel, doctor, what am a* awin* ye for the 
 wife and bairn? Ye'ill need three notes for 
 that nicht ye stayed in the hoose an* a* the 
 veesits." 
 
 " Havers," MacLure would answer, " prices are 
 low, a'm hearing ; gie's thirty shillings." 
 
 "No, a'll no, or the wife 'ill tak ma ears off," 
 and it was settled for two pounds. 
 
 Lord Kilspindie gave him a free house and 
 fields, and one way or other, Drumsheugh told 
 me, the doctor might get in about ^150 a year, 
 out of which he had to pay his old housekeeper's 
 wages and a boy's, and keep two horses, besides 
 the cost of instruments and books, which he 
 bought through a friend in Edinburgh with 
 much judgment. 
 
 There was only one man who ever complained 
 of the doctor's charges, and that was the new 
 farmer of Milton, who was so good that he was 
 above both churches, and held a meeting in his 
 barn. (It was Milton the Glen supposed at first 
 to be a Mormon, but I can't go into that now.) 
 He offered MacLure a pound less than he asked, 
 and two tracts, whereupon MacLure expressed 
 his opinion of Milton, both from a theological 
 and social standpoint, with such vigour and 
 frankness that an attentive audience of Drum- 
 tochty men could hardly contain themselves. 
 
 Jamie Soutar was selling his pig at the time, 
 and missed the meeting, but he hastened to 
 
A GENERAL PRACTITIONER. 169 
 
 condole with Milton, who was complaining 
 everywhere of the doctor's language. 
 
 " Ye did richt tae resist him ; it 'ill maybe 
 roose the Glen tae mak a stand ; he fair hands 
 them in bondage. 
 
 li Thirty shillings for twal veesits, and him no 
 mair than seeven mile awa, an' a'm telt there 
 werena mair than four at nicht. 
 
 " Ye'ill hae the sympathy o' the Glen, for a'- 
 body kens yir as free wi' yir siller as yir tracts. 
 
 " Wes't ' Beware o' gude warks* ye offered him ? 
 Man, ye chose it weel, for he's been colleckin' sae 
 mony thae forty years, a'm feared for him. 
 
 " A've often thocht oor doctor's little better 
 than the Gude Samaritan, an* the Pharisees didna 
 think muckle o' his chance aither in this warld or 
 that which is tae come." 
 
II. 
 
 THROUGH THE FLOOD. 
 
 DR.. MACLURE did not lead a solemn proces- 
 sion from the sick bed to the dining-room, and 
 give his opinion from the hearthrug with an air 
 of wisdom bordering on the supernatural, because 
 neither the Drumtochty houses nor his manners 
 were on that large scale. He was accustomed to 
 deliver himself in the yard, and to conclude his 
 directions with one foot in the stirrup ; but when 
 he left the room where the life of Annie Mitchell 
 was ebbing slowly away, our doctor said not one 
 word, and at the sight of his face her husband's 
 heart was troubled. 
 
 He was a dull man, Tammas, who could not 
 read the meaning of a sign, and laboured under a 
 perpetual disability of speech : but love was eyes to 
 him that day, and a mouth. 
 
 " Is't as bad as yir lookin', doctor ? Tell's the 
 truth. Wull Annie no come through ? " and 
 Tammas looked MacLure straight in the face, 
 who never flinched his duty or said smooth things. 
 
 " A' wud gie onything tae say Annie has a 
 chance, but a' daurna ; a' doot yir gaein' to lose 
 her, Tammas." 
 
 MacLure was in the saddle, and as he gave his 
 judgment, he laid his hand on Tammas's shoulder 
 with one of the rare caresses that pass between 
 men. 
 
THROUGH THE FLOOD. I?I 
 
 " It's a sair business, but ye'ill play the man 
 and no vex Annie ; she'ill dae her best, a'll war- 
 rant." 
 
 " And a'll dae mine," and Tammas gave Mac- 
 Lure's hand a grip that would have crushed the 
 bones of a weakling. Drumtochty felt in such 
 moments the brotherliness of this rough-looking 
 man, and loved him. 
 
 Tammas hid his face in Jess's mane, who looked 
 round with sorrow in her beautiful eyes, for she 
 had seen many tragedies, and in this silent sym- 
 pathy the stricken man drank his cup, drop by drop. 
 
 " A' wesna prepared for this, for a' aye thocht 
 she wud live the langest. . . She's younger than 
 me by ten years, and never was ill. . . We've 
 been mairit twal year last Martinmas, but its juist 
 like a year the day. . . A' wes never worthy o* 
 her, the bonniest, snoddest [neatest], kindliest lass 
 in the Glen. . . A* never cud mak oot hoo she 
 ever lookit at me, 'at hesna hed ae word tae say 
 aboot her till it's ower late. . . She didna cuist 
 up to me that a' wesna worthy o' her, no her, but 
 aye she said, ' Yir ma ain gudeman, and nane cud 
 be kinder tae me/ . . An' a* wes minded tae be 
 kind, but a* see noo mony little trokes a micht hae 
 dune for her, and noo the time is bye. . . Nae- 
 bocly kens hoo patient she wes wi' me, and aye 
 made the best o' me, an' never pit me tae shame 
 afore the fouk. . . An' we never hed ae cross 
 word, no ane in twal year. . . We were mair 
 nor man and wife we were sweethearts a' the 
 time. . . Oh, ma bonnie lass, what ill the bairnies 
 an' me dae without ye, Annie ? " 
 
 The winter night was falling fast, the snow lay 
 deep upon the ground, and the merciless north 
 
172 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 wind moaned through the close as Tammas wres- 
 tled with his sorrow dry-eyed, for tears were denied 
 Drumtochty men. Neither the doctor nor Jess 
 moved hand or foot, but their hearts were with 
 their fellow-creature, and at length the doctor 
 made a sign to Marget Howe, who had come out 
 in search of Tammas, and now stood by his side. 
 
 " Dinna mourn tae the brakin' o' yir hert, Tam- 
 mas,'' she said, " as if Annie an' you hed never 
 luved. Neither death nor time can pairt them that 
 luve ; there's naethin' in a' the warld sae strong as 
 luve. If Annie gaes frae the sicht o' yir een she'ill 
 come the nearer tae yir hert. She wants tae see 
 ye, and tae hear ye say that ye'ill never forget her 
 nicht nor day till ye meet in the land where there's 
 nae pairtin.' OhJ a' ken what a'm sayin,' for it's 
 five year noo sin George gied awa, an' he's mair 
 wi' me noo than when he wes in Edinboro' and I 
 wes in Drumtochty." 
 
 " Thank ye kindly, Marget ; thae are gude words 
 and true, an' ye hev the richt tae say them ; but a' 
 canna dae without seein' Annie comin' tae meet 
 me in the gloamin', an' gaein' in an' oot the hoose, 
 an* hearin' her ca* me by ma name, an' a'll no can 
 tell her that a' luve her when there's nae Annie in 
 tke hoose. 
 
 " Can naethin' be dune, doctor ? Ye savit Flora 
 Cammil, and young Burnbrae, an' yon shepherd's 
 wife Dunleith wy, an* we were a' sae prood o' ye, 
 an* pleased tae think that ye hed keepit deith frae 
 anither hame. Can ye no think o' somethin' tae 
 help Annie, and gie her back tae her man and 
 bairnies ? " and Tammas searched the doctor's face 
 in the cold, weird light. 
 
 " There's nae pooer in heaven or airth like luve," 
 
THROUGH THE FLOOD. 173 
 
 Marget said to me afterwards ; " it maks the weak 
 strong and the dumb tae speak. Oor herts Were 
 as water afore Tammas's words, an* a* saw the 
 doctor shake in his saddle. A* never kent till that 
 meenut hoo he hed a share in a'body's grief, an' 
 carried the heaviest wecht o' a' the Glen. A* 
 peetied him wi' Tammas lookin* at him sae wist- 
 fully, as if he hed the keys o' life an* deith in his 
 hands. But he wes honest, and wudna hold oot a 
 false houp tae deceive a sore hert or win escape for 
 himsel'." 
 
 " Ye needna plead wi' me, Tammas, to dae the 
 best a' can for yir wife. Man, a' kent her lang 
 afore ye ever luved her ; a' brocht her intae the 
 warld, and a' saw her through the fever when she 
 wes a bit lassikie ; a' closed her mither's een, and 
 it wes me hed tae tell her she wes an orphan, an* 
 nae man wes better pleased when she got a gude 
 husband, and a' helpit her wi' her fower bairns. 
 AVe naither wife nor bairns o' ma' own, an' a' 
 coont a' the fouk o' the Glen ma family. Div ye 
 think a' wudna save Annie if I cud ? If there wes 
 a man in Muirtown 'at cud dae mair for her, a'd 
 have him this verra nicht, but a' the doctors in 
 Perthshire are helpless for this tribble. 
 
 " Tammas, ma puir fallow, if it could avail, a' 
 tell ye a' wud lay doon this auld worn-oot ruckle 
 o' a body o' mine juist tae see ye baith sittin' at 
 the fireside, an* the bairns roond ye, couthy an* 
 canty again ; but it's no tae be, Tammas, it's no 
 tae be." 
 
 " When a' lookit at the doctor's face," Marget 
 said, " a' thocht him the winsomest man a' ever 
 saw. He wes transfigured that nicht, for a'n? 
 judging there's nae transfiguration like luve," 
 
174 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 " It's God's wull an' maun be borne, but it's a 
 sain wull fur me, an' a'm no ungratefu' tae you, 
 doctor, for a' ye've dune and what ye said the 
 nicht," and Tammas went back to sit with Annie 
 for the last time. 
 
 Jess picked her way through the deep snow to 
 the main road, with a skill that came of long ex- 
 perience, and the doctor held converse with her 
 according to his wont. 
 
 " Eh, Jess, wumman, yon wes the hardest wark 
 a' hae tae face, and a' wud raither hae ta'en ma 
 chance o' anither row in a Glen Urtach drift than 
 tell Tammas Mitchell his wife wes deein'. 
 
 " A' said she cudna be cured, and it wes true, 
 for there's juist ae man in the land fit for't, and 
 they micht as weel try tae get the mune oot o' 
 heaven. Sae a' said naethin' tae vex Tammas's 
 hert, for it's heavy eneuch withoot regrets, 
 
 " But it's hard, Jess, that money wull buy life 
 after a', an* if Annie wes a duchess her man 
 wudna lose her ; but bein' only a puir cottar's 
 wife, she maun dee afore the week's oot. 
 
 " Gin we hed him the morn there's little doot 
 she wud be saved, for he hesna lost mair than five 
 per cent, o' his cases, and they'ill be puir toon's 
 craturs, no strappin' women like Annie. 
 
 " It's oot o' the question, Jess, sae hurry up, 
 lass, for we've hed a heavy day. But it wud be 
 the grandest thing that was ever dune in the Glen 
 in oor time if it could be managed by hook or crook. 
 
 " We'll gang and see Drumsheugh, Jess ; he's 
 anither man sin' Georclie Hoo's deith, and he wes 
 aye kinder than fouk kent ; " and the doctor passed 
 at a gallop through the village, whose lights shone 
 across the white frost-bound road. 
 
THROUGH THE FLOOD. 175 
 
 " Come in by, doctor ; a' heard ye on the road ; 
 ye'ill hae been at Tammas Mitchell's ; hoo's the 
 gudewife ? a' doot she's sober." 
 
 " Annie's deein', Drumsheugh, an' Tammas is 
 like tae brak his hert." 
 
 " That's no lichtsorne, doctor, no lichtsome, ava, 
 for a' dinna ken ony man in Drumtochty sae bund 
 up in his wife as Tammas, and there's no a bonnier 
 wumman o' her age crosses oor kirk door than 
 Annie, nor a cleverer at her wark. Man, ye'ill 
 need tae pit yir brains in steep. Is she clean 
 beyond ye ? " 
 
 " Beyond me and every ither in the land but 
 ane, and it wud cost a hundred guineas tae bring 
 him tae Drumtochty." 
 
 " Certes, he's no blate ; it's a fell chairge for 
 a short day's work ; but hundred or no hundred 
 we'ill hae him, and no let Annie gang, and her no 
 half her years." 
 
 " Are ye meanin' it, Drumsheugh ?" and Mac- 
 Lure turned white below the tan. 
 
 " William MacLure," said Drumsheugh, in one 
 of the few confidences that ever broke the Drum- 
 tochty reserve, " a'm a lonely man, wi' naebody 
 o' ma ain blude tae care for me livin', or tae lift 
 me intae ma coffin when a'm deid. 
 
 " A' fecht awa at Muirtown market for an extra 
 pund on a beast, or a shillin' on the quarter o' 
 barley, an' what's the gude o't? Burnbrae gaes 
 aff tae get a goon for his wife or a buke for his 
 college laddie, an' Lachlan Campbell 'ill no leave 
 the place noo withoot a ribbon for Flora. 
 
 " Ilka man in the Kildrummie train has some 
 bit fairin' in his pooch for the fouk at hame that 
 i.' th^ siller he won. 
 
I?6 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 " But there's naebody tae be lookin' oot for 
 me an' comin' doon the road tae meet me, and 
 daffin' [joking] wi' me aboot their fairing, or 
 feeling ma pockets. Ou, ay ! a've seen it a* at 
 ither hooses, though they tried tae hide it frae 
 me for fear a' wud lauch at them. Me lauch, 
 wi' ma cauld, empty hame ! 
 
 " Yir the only man kens, Weelum, that I aince 
 luved the noblest wumman in the glen or ony- 
 where, an' a' luve her still, but wi' anither luve 
 noo. 
 
 " She hed given her heart tae anither, or a've 
 thocht a' micht hae won her, though nae man 
 be worthy o' sic a gift. Ma hert turned tae 
 bitterness, but that passed awa beside the brier 
 bush whar George Hoo lay yon sad simmer 
 time. Some day a'll tell ye ma story, Weelum, 
 for you an' me are auld freends, and will be till 
 we dee." 
 
 MacLure felt beneath the table for Drum- 
 sheugh's hand, but neither man looked at the 
 ither. 
 
 " Weel, a* we can dae noo, Weelum, gin we 
 h^ena micjde brightness in^ oor ain hanxes, is 
 tae keep the licht frae gaein' oot in anither 
 hoose.'Y\Vrite the telegram^ man, and Sandy 
 'ill send it aff frae Kildrummie this verra nicht, 
 and ye'ill hae yir man the morn." 
 
 " Yir the man a' coonted ye, Drumsheugh, but 
 ye'ill grant me ae favour. Ye'ill lat me pay the 
 half, bit by bit a' ken yir wullin* tae dae't a f 
 but a* haena mony pleesures, an* a* wud like tae 
 hae ma ain share in savin' Annie's life." 
 
 Next morning a figure received Sir George 
 on the Kildrummie platform, whom that fa- 
 
THROUGH THE FLOOD. 177 
 
 mous surgeon took for a gillie, but who intro- 
 duced himself as " MacLure of Drumtochty." 
 It seemed as if the East had come to meet the 
 West when these two stood together, the one in 
 travelling furs, handsome and distinguished, with 
 his strong, cultured face and carriage of authority, 
 a characteristic type of his profession ; and the 
 other more marvellously dressed than ever, for 
 Drumsheugh's topcoat had been forced upon 
 him for the occasion, his face and neck one red- 
 ness with the bitter cold ; rough and ungainly, 
 yet not without some signs of power in his eye 
 and voice, the most heroic type of his noble pro- 
 fession. MacLure compassed the precious arrival 
 with observances till he was securely seated in 
 Drumsheugh's dogcart a vehicle that lent itself 
 to history with two full-sized plaids added to his 
 equipment Drumsheugh and Hillocks had both 
 been requisitioned and MacLure wrapped an- 
 other plaid round a leather case, which was 
 placed below the seat with such reverence as 
 might be given to the Queen's regalia. Peter 
 attended their departure full of interest, and as 
 soon as they were in the fir woods MacLure 
 explained that it would be an eventful journey. 
 
 " It's a' richt in here, for the wind disna get at 
 the snaw, but the drifts are deep in the Glen, and 
 th'ill be some engineerin' afore we get tae oor 
 destination." 
 
 Four times they left the road and took their way 
 over fields ; twice they forced a passage through a 
 slap in a dyke ; thrice they used gaps in the paling 
 which MacLure had made on his downward 
 journey, 
 
 " A' seleckit the road this mornin', an' a' ken 
 
178 DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 the depth tae an inch ; we'ill get through this 
 steadin' here tae the main road, but oor worst job 
 'ill be crossin' the Tochty. 
 
 " Ye see the bridge hes Deen shakin* wi' this 
 winter's flood, and we daurna venture on it, sae 
 we hev tae ford, and the snaw's been melting up 
 Urtach way. There's nae doot the water's gey 
 big, and it's threatenin' tae rise, but we'ill win 
 through wi' a warstle. 
 
 " It micht be safer tae lift the instruments oot o* 
 reach o' the water ; wud ye mind haddin' them on 
 yir knee till we're ower, an' keep ftrm in yir seat in 
 case we come on a stane in the bed o' the river." 
 
 By this time they had come to the edge, and it 
 was not a cheering sight. The Tochty had spread 
 out over the meadows, and while they waited they 
 could see it cover another two inches on the trunk 
 of a tree. There are summer floods, when the 
 water is brown and flecked with foam, but this was 
 a winter flood, which is black and sullen, and runs 
 in the centre with a strong, fierce, silent current. 
 Upon the opposite side Hillocks stood to give di- 
 rections by word and hand, as the ford was on his 
 land, and none knew the Tochty better in all its 
 ways. 
 
 They passed through the shallow water without 
 mishap, save when the wheel struck a hidden 
 stone or fell suddenly into a rut ; but when they 
 neared the body of the river MacLure halted, to 
 give Jess a minute's breathing. 
 
 "It 'ill tak ye a' yir time, lass, an' a' wud raither 
 be on yir back ; but ye never failed me yet, and a 
 wumman's life is hangin' on the crossin'." 
 
 With the first plunge into the bed of the stream 
 the water rose to the axles, and then it crept up to 
 
THROUGH THE FLOOD. 1 79 
 
 the shafts, so that the surgeon could feel it lap- 
 ping in about his feet, while the dogcart began to 
 quiver, and it seemed as if it were to be carried 
 away. Sir George was as brave as most men, but 
 he had never forded a Highland river in flood, 
 and the mass of black water racing past beneath, 
 before, behind him, affected his imagination and 
 shook his nerves. He rose from his seat and 
 ordered MacLure to turn back, declaring that he 
 would be condemned utterly and eternally if he 
 allowed himself to be drowned for any person. 
 
 "Sit doon!" thundered MacLure. "Con- 
 demned ye will be, suner or later, gin ye shirk yir 
 duty, but through the water ye gang the day." 
 
 Both men spoke much more strongly and 
 shortly, but this is what they intended to say, and 
 it was MacLure that prevailed. 
 
 Jess trailed her feet along the ground with 
 cunning art, and held her shoulder against the 
 stream ; MacLure leant forward in his seat, a rein 
 in each hand, and his eyes fixed on Hillocks, who 
 was now standing up to the waist in the water, 
 shouting directions and cheering on horse and 
 driver. 
 
 " Haud tae the richt, doctor; there's a hole 
 yonder. Keep oot o't for ony sake. That's it ; 
 yir daein' fine. Steady, man, steady. Yir at the 
 deepest ; sit heavy in yir seavs. Up the channel 
 noo, and ye'ill be oot o' the swirl. Weel dune, 
 Jess, weel dune, auld mare ! Mak straicht for me, 
 doctor, an' a'll gie ye the road oot. Ma word, 
 ye've dune yir best, baith o' ye, this mornin'," cried 
 Hillocks, splashing up to the dogcart, now in the 
 shallows. 
 
 " Sail, it wes titch an* go for a meenut in the 
 
l8o A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 middle ; a Hielan' ford is a kittle [hazardous] road 
 in the snavv time, but ye're safe noo. 
 
 " Gude luck tae ye up at Westerton, sir ; nane 
 but a richt-hearted man wud hae riskit the Tochty 
 in flood. Ye're boond tae succeed aifter sic a 
 graund beginnin'," for it had spread already that a 
 famous surgeon had come to do his best for Annie, 
 Tammas Mitchell's wife. 
 
 Two hours later MacLure came out from 
 Annie's room and laid hold of Tammas, a heap of 
 speechless misery by the kitchen fire, and carried 
 him off to the barn, and spread some corn on 
 the threshing floor and thrust a flail into his 
 hands. 
 
 " Noo we've tae begin, an' we'ill no be dune for 
 an* oor, and ye've tae lay on withoot stoppin' till a' 
 come for ye, an' a'li shut the door tae haud in the 
 noise, an' keep yir dog beside ye, for there maunna 
 be a cheep aboot the hoose for Annie's sake." 
 
 " A'll dae onything ye want me, but if if " 
 
 " A'll come for ye, Tammas, gin there be danger ; 
 but what are ye feared for wi" the Queen's ain 
 surgeon here ? " 
 
 Fifty minutes did the flail rise and fall, save 
 twice, when Tammas crept to the door and listened, 
 the dog lifting his head and whining. 
 
 It seemed twelve hours instead of one when the 
 door swung back, and MacLure filled the doorway, 
 preceded by a great burst of light, for the sun had 
 arisen on the snow. 
 
 His face was as tidings of great joy, and Elspeth 
 told me that there was nothing like it to be seen 
 that afternoon for glory, save the sun itself in the 
 heavens. 
 
 " A' never saw the marrow o't, Tammas, an* 
 
THROUGH THE FLOOD. l8l 
 
 a'll never see the like again ; it's a* ower, man, 
 withoot a hitch frae beginnin' tae end, and she's 
 fa'in' asleep as fine as ye like." 
 
 " Dis he think Annie 'ill live ? " 
 
 " Of coorse he dis, and be aboot the hoose inside 
 a month ; that's the gude o' bein' a clean-bluided, 
 weel-livin* 
 
 " Preserve ye, man, what's wrang wi' ye ? It's 
 a mercy a* keppit ye, or we wud hev hed anither 
 job for Sir George. 
 
 " Ye're a* richt noo ; sit doon on the strae. 
 A'll come back in a whilie, an' ye'ill see Annie, 
 juist for a meenut, but ye maunna say a word." 
 
 Marget took him in and let him kneel by Annie's 
 bedside. 
 
 He said nothing then or afterwards, for speech 
 came only once in his lifetime to Tammas, but 
 Annie whispered, *' Ma ain dear man." 
 
 When the doctor placed the precious bag beside 
 Sir George in our solitary first next morning, he 
 laid a check beside it and was about to leave. 
 
 " No, no ! " said the great man. " Mrs. Macfad- 
 yen and I were on the gossip last night, and I 
 know the whole story about you and your friend. 
 
 " You have some right to call me a coward, but 
 I'll never let you count me a mean, miserly rascal," 
 and the check with Drumsheugh's painful writing 
 fell in fifty pieces on the floor. 
 
 As the train began to move, a voice from the 
 first called so that all in the station heard. 
 
 " Give's another shake of your hand, MacLure ; 
 I'm proud to have met you ; you are an honour to 
 our profession. Mind the antiseptic dressings." 
 
 It was market clay, but only Jamie Soutar and 
 Hillocks had ventured down. 
 
1 82 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 " Did ye hear yon, Hillocks ? Hoo dae ye feel > 
 A'll no deny a'm lifted." 
 
 Halfway to the Junction Hillocks had recovered, 
 and began to grasp the situation. 
 
 " Tell's what he said. A* wud like to hae it ex- 
 act for Drumsheugh." 
 
 " Thae's the eedentical words, an* they're true ; 
 there's no a man in Drumtochty disna ken that, 
 except ane." 
 
 " An' wha's that, Jamie? " 
 
 " It's Weelum MacLure himsel'. Man, a've 
 often girned that he sud fecht awa for us a', and 
 maybe dee before he kent that he hed githered 
 mair luve than -ony man in the Glen. 
 
 " ' A'm prood tae hae met ye,' says Sir George, 
 an* him the greatest doctor in the land. ' Yir an 
 honour tae oor profession.' 
 
 " Hillocks, a' wudna hae missed it for twenty 
 notes," said James Soutar, cynic-in-ordinary to the 
 parish of Drumtochty. 
 
III. 
 
 A FIGHT WITH DEATH. 
 
 WHEN Drumsheugh's grieve was brought to the 
 gates of death by fever, caught, as was supposed, 
 on an adventurous visit to Glasgow, the London 
 doctor at Lord Kilspindie's shooting lodge looked 
 in on his way from the moor, and declared it im- 
 possible for Saunders to live through the night. 
 
 " I give him six hours, more or less ; it is only a 
 question of time," said the oracle, buttoning his 
 gloves and getting into the brake. "Tell your 
 parish doctor that I was sorry not to have met him." 
 
 Bell heard this verdict from behind the door, and 
 gave way utterly, but Drumsheugh declined to 
 accept it as final, and devoted Jv'mself to consola- 
 tion. 
 
 " Dinna greet like that, Bell, wumman, sae lang 
 as Saunders is still livin* ; a'll never give up houp, 
 for ma pairt, till oor ain man says the word. 
 , " A* the doctors in the land dinna ken as muckle 
 aboot us as Weelum MacLure, an' he's ill tae beat 
 when he's tryin* tae save a man's life." 
 
 MacLure, on his coming, would say nothing, 
 either weal or woe, till he had examined Saunders. 
 Suddenly his face turned into iron before their eyes, 
 and he looked like one encountering a merciless 
 foe. For there was a feud between MacLure and 
 a certain mighty power which had lasted for forty 
 years in Drumtochty. 
 
 183 
 
184 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 " The London doctor said that Saunders wud 
 sough awa' afore mornin', did he ? Weel, he's an* 
 authority on fevers an* sic like diseases, an' ought 
 tae ken. 
 
 " It's may be presumptuous o' me tae differ frae 
 him, and it wudna be verra respectfu' o' Saunders 
 tae live aifter this opeenion. But Saunders wes aye 
 thraun an* ill tae drive, an* he's as like as no tae 
 gang his ain gait. 
 
 " A'm no meanin' tae reflect on sae clever a man, 
 but he didna ken the seetuation. He can read 
 fevers like a buik, but he never cam* across sic a 
 a thing as the Drumtochty constitution a' his days. 
 
 " Ye see, when onybody gets as low as puir 
 Saunders here, it's a juist a hand-to-hand wrastle 
 atween the fever and his constitution, an' of coorse, 
 if he hed been a shilpit, stuntit, feckless effeegy o' a 
 cratur, fed on tea an' made dishes and pushioned 
 wi' bad air, Saunders wud hae nae chance ; he wes 
 boond tae gae oot like the snuff o' a candle. 
 
 " But Saunders has been fillin* his lungs for five 
 and thirty year wi' strong Drumtochty air, an* 
 eatin* naethin' but kirny aitmeal, and drinkin' 
 naethin* but fresh milk frae the coo, an' followin' 
 the ploo through the new-turned, sweet-smellin* 
 earth, an' swingin' the scythe in haytime and har- 
 vest, till the legs an* airms o' him were iron, an* his 
 chest wes like the cuttin' o* an oak tree. 
 
 " He's a waesome sicht the nicht, but Saunders 
 wes a buirdly man aince, and wull never lat his life 
 be taken lichtly frae him, Na, na ; he hesna sinned 
 against Nature, and Nature 'ill stand by him noo in 
 his oor o' distress. 
 
 " A* daurna say yea, Bell, muckle as a' wud like, 
 for this is an evil disease, cunnin' an' treacherous 
 
A FIGHT WITH DEA TH. 185 
 
 as the deevil himsel', but a' winna say nay, sae 
 keep yir hert frae despair. 
 
 " It wull be a sair fecht, but it 'ill be settled one 
 wy or anither by six o'clock the morn's morn. Nae 
 man can prophecee hoo it 'ill end, but ae thing is 
 certain, a'll no see Deith tak a Drumtochty man 
 afore his time if a' can help it. 
 
 " Noo, Bell, ma wumman, yir near deid wi* tire, 
 an* nae wonder. Ye've dune a' ye cud for yir man 
 an* ye'ill lippen [trust] him the nicht tae Drum- 
 sheugh an' me ; we'ill no fail him or you. 
 
 " Lie doon an* rest, an' if it be the wull o' the 
 Almichty a'll wauken ye in the mornin' tae see a 
 livin', conscious man, an* if it be itherwise a'll come 
 for ye the suner, Bell," and the big red hand went 
 out to the anxious wife. " A' gie ye ma word." 
 
 Bell leant over the bed, and at the sight of Saun- 
 ders' face a superstitious dread seized her. 
 
 " See, doctor, the shadow of deith is on him that 
 never lifts. A've seen it afore, on ma father an f 
 mither. A* canna leave him ; a' canna leave him ! " 
 
 " It's hoverin', Bell, but it hesna fallen ; please 
 God it never wull. Gang but and get some sleep, 
 for it's time we were at oor wark. 
 
 " The doctors in the toons hae nurses an* a* 
 kinds o' handy apparatus," said MacLure to Drum* 
 sheugh when Bell had gone, " but you an' me 'ill 
 need tae be nurse the nicht, an* use sic things as 
 we hev. 
 
 " It 'ill be a lang nicht and anxious wark, but a* 
 wud raither hae ye, auld freend,wi' me than ony man 
 in the Glen. Ye're no feared tae gie a hand ? " 
 
 " Me feared ? No likely. Man, Saunders cam* 
 tae me a haflin, an' hes been on Drumsheugh for 
 twenty years, an' though he be a dour chiel, he's a 
 
1 86 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 faithfu' servant as ever lived. It's waesome tae see 
 him lyin' there moanin' like some dumb animal frae 
 mornin* to nicht, an* no able tae answer his ain 
 wife when she speaks. 
 
 " Div ye think, Weelum, he hes a chance ? " 
 
 " That he hes, at ony rate, and it 'ill no be your 
 blame or mine if he hesna mair." 
 
 While he was speaking, MacLure took off his 
 coat and waistcoat and hung them on the back of 
 the door. Then he rolled up the sleeves of his 
 shirt and laid bare two arms that were nothing but 
 bone and muscle. 
 
 " It gar'd ma very blood rin faster tae the end of 
 ma fingers juist tae look at him," Drumsheugh ex- 
 patiated afterwards to Hillocks, " for a' saw noo 
 that there was tae be a stand-up fecht atween him 
 an* Deith for Saunders, and when a' thocht o' Bell 
 an* her bairns, a' kent wha wud win. 
 
 " ' Aff wi' yir coat, Drumsheugh,' said MacLure ; 
 * ye'ill need tae bend yir back the nicht ; gither a' 
 the pails in the hoose and fill them at the spring, 
 an* a'll come doon tae help ye wi' the carryin'.' " 
 
 It was a wonderful ascent up the steep pathway 
 from the spring to the cottage on its little knoll, 
 the two men in single file, bareheaded, silent, 
 solemn, each with a pail of water in either hand, 
 MacLure limping painfully in front, Drumsheugh 
 blowing behind ; and when they laid down their 
 burden in the sick room, where the bits of furniture 
 had been put to a side and a large tub held the cen- 
 tre, Drumsheugh looked curiously at the doctor. 
 
 " No, a'm no daft ; ye needna be feared ; but yir 
 tae get yir first lesson in medicine the nicht, an' if 
 we win the battle ye can set up for yersel' in theGlen. 
 
 " There's twa dangers that Saunders' strength 
 
A FIGHT WITH &EA TH. 187 
 
 fails, an' that the force o' the fever grows ; and we 
 have juist twa weapons. 
 
 " Yon milk on the drawers' head an' the bottle 
 of whisky is tae keep up the strength, and this 
 cool caller water is tae keep doon the fever. 
 
 " We'ill cast oot the fever by the virtue o' the 
 earth an' the water." 
 
 " Div ye mean tae pit Saunders in the tub ? " 
 
 "Ye hiv it noo, Drumsheugh, and that's hoo 
 a' need yir help." 
 
 " Man, Hillocks," Drumsheugh used to mor- 
 alise, as often as he remembered that critical 
 night, " it wes humblin' tae see how low sick- 
 ness can bring a pooerfu* man, an* ocht tae keep 
 us frae pride. 
 
 " A month syne there wesna a stronger man 
 in the Glen than Saunders, an' noo he wes juist 
 a bundle o' skin and bone, that naither saw nor 
 heard, nor moved nor felt, that kent naethin' that 
 was dune tae him. 
 
 " Hillocks, a* wudna hae wished ony man tae hev 
 seen Saunders for it wull never pass frae before 
 ma een as long as a' live but a' wish a' the Glen 
 hed stude by MacLure kneelin' on the floor wi' his 
 sleeves up tae his oxters and waitin' on Sounders. 
 
 " Yon big man wes as pitifu' an' gentle as a 
 wumman, and when he laid the puir fallow in his 
 bed again, he happit him ower as a mither dis 
 her bairn." 
 
 Thrice it was done, Drumsheugh ever bringing 
 up colder water from the spring, and twice 
 MacLure was silent ; but after the third time 
 there was a gleam in his eye. 
 
 " We're haudin' oor ain ; we're no bein' mais- 
 tered, at ony rate ; mair a' canna say for three oors* 
 
1 88 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 " We'ill no need the water again, Drumsheugh , 
 gae oot and tak a breath o' air ; a'm on gaird 
 masel'." 
 
 It was the hour before daybreak, and Drum- 
 sheugh wandered through fields he had trod- 
 den since childhood. The cattle lay sleeping 
 in the pastures ; their shadowy forms, with a 
 patch of whiteness here and there, having a weird 
 suggestion of death. He heard the burn running 
 over the stones ; fifty years ago he had made a 
 dam that lasted till winter. The hooting of 
 an owl made him start ; one had frightened him 
 as a boy so that he ran home to his mother she 
 died thirty years ago. The smell of ripe corn 
 filled the air ; it would soon be cut and garnered. 
 He could see the dim outlines of his house, all 
 dark and cold ; no one he loved was beneath the 
 roof. The lighted window in Saunders' cottage 
 told where a man hung between life and death, but 
 love was in that home. The futility of life arose 
 before this lonely man, and overcame his heart 
 with an indescribable sadness. What a vanity 
 was all human labour ; what a mystery all human 
 We! 
 
 But while he stood, a subtle change came over 
 the night, and the air trembled round him as if one 
 had whispered. Drumsheugh lifted his head and 
 looked eastward. A faint gray stole over the dis- 
 tant horizon, and suddenly a cloud reddened 
 before his eyes. The sun was not in sight, but 
 was rising, and sending forerunners before his 
 face. The cattle began to stir, a blackbird burst 
 into song, and before Drumsheugh crossed the 
 threshold of Saunders' house, the first ray of the 
 sun had broken on a peak of the Grampians. 
 
A FIGHT W1T& DEATH. 189 
 
 MacLure left the bedside, and as the light of the 
 candle fell on the doctor's face, Drumsheugh 
 could see that it was going well with Saunders. 
 
 " He's nae waur ; an* it's half six noo ; it's ower 
 sune tae say mair, but a'm houpin' for the best. 
 Sit doon and take a sleep, for ye're needin' f t r 
 Drumsheugh, an', man, ye hae worked for it." 
 
 As he dozed off, the last thing Drumsheugh saw 
 was the doctor sitting erect in his chair, a clenched 
 fist resting on the bed, and his eyes already bright 
 with the vision of victory. 
 
 He awoke with a start to find the room flooded 
 with the morning sunshine, and every trace of last 
 night's work removed. 
 
 The doctor was bending over the bed, and 
 speaking to Saunders. 
 
 " It's me, Saunders ; Doctor MacLure, ye ken : 
 dinna try tae speak or move ; juist let this drap 
 milk slip ower ye'ill be needin' yir breakfast, lad 
 and gang tae sleep again." 
 
 Five minutes, and Saunders had fallen into a 
 deep, healthy sleep, all tossing and moaning come 
 to an end. Then MacLure stepped softly across 
 the floor, picked up his coat and waistcoat, and 
 went out at the door. 
 
 Drumsheugh arose and followed him without a 
 word. They passed through the little garden, 
 sparkling with dew, and beside the byre, where 
 Hawkie rattled her chain, impatient for Bell's com- 
 ing, and by Saunders' little strip of corn ready for 
 the scythe, till they reached an open field. There 
 they came to a halt, and Dr. MacLure for once 
 allowed himself to go. 
 
 His coat he flung east and his waistcoat west, as 
 far as he could hurl them, and it was plain he 
 
1QO A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 would have shouted had he been a complete mile 
 from Saunclers' room. Any less distance was use- 
 less for adequate expression. He struck Drum- 
 sheugh a mighty blow that well-nigh levelled that 
 substantial man in the dust, and then the doctor of 
 Drumtochty issued his bulletin. 
 
 " Saunders wesna tae live through the nicht, but 
 he's livhV this meenut, an' like to live. 
 
 " He's got by the warst clean and fair, and wi' 
 him that's as good as cure. 
 
 " It 'ill be a graund waukenin' for Bell ; she'ill 
 no be a weedow yet, nor the bairntes fatherless. 
 
 " There's nae use glowerin' at me, Drumsheugh, 
 for a body's daft at a time, an* a' canna contain 
 maser, and a'm no gaein' tae try." 
 
 Then it dawned upon Drumsheugh that the 
 doctor was attempting the Highland fling. 
 
 " He's ill made, tae begin wi'," Drumsheugh ex- 
 plained in the kirkyard next Sabbath, " and ye ken 
 he's been terrible mishannelled by accidents, saeye 
 may think what like it wes, but, as sure as deith, o' 
 a' the Hielan' flings a' ever saw yon wes the bonniest. 
 
 " A* hevna shaken ma ain legs for thirty years, 
 but a* confess tae a turn masel'. Ye may lauch 
 an* ye like, neeburs, but the thocht o' Bell an' the 
 news that wes waitin' her got the better o' me." 
 
 Drumtochty did not laugh. Drumtochty looked 
 as if it could have done quite otherwise for joy. 
 
 " A f wud hae made a third gin a' hed been 
 there," announced Hillocks aggressively. 
 
 ' Come on, Drumsheugh," said Jamie Soutar, 
 " gie's the end o't ; it wes a michty mornin'." 
 
 " * We're twa auld fules,' says MacLure tae me, 
 as he gaithers up his claithes. ' It wud set us 
 better tae be tellin' Bell.' 
 
A FIGHT WITH DEA Tff. 19! 
 
 44 She was sleepin' on the top o' her bed wrapped 
 in a plaid, fair worn oot wi' three weeks' nursin' 
 o' Saunders, but at the first touch she was oot 
 upon the floor. 
 
 " ' Is Saunders deein', doctor ? ' she cries. ' Ye 
 promised tae wauken me ; dinna tell me it's a' ower.' 
 
 " There's nae deein' aboot him, Bell ; ye're no 
 tae lose yir man this time, sae far as a' can see. 
 Come ben an* jidge for yersel'.' 
 
 " Bell lookit at Saunders, and the tears of joy 
 fell on the bed like rain. 
 
 " * The shadow's lifted,' she said ; ' he's come 
 back frae the mooth o' the tomb. 
 
 " ' A' prayed last nicht that the Lord wud leave 
 Saunders till the laddies cud dae for themselves, 
 an' thae words came intae ma mind, " Weepin' may 
 endure for a nicht, but joy cometh in the mornin'." 
 
 " ' The Lord heard ma prayer, and joy hes come 
 in the mornin'/ an* she gripped the doctor's hand. 
 
 " * Ye've been the instrument, Doctor MacLure. 
 Ye wudna gie him up, and ye did what nae ither 
 cud for him, an* a've ma man the day, and the 
 bairns hae their father.' 
 
 " An* afore MacLure kent what she was daein', 
 Bell lifted his hand to her lips an* kissed it." 
 
 " Did she, though ? " cried Jamie. " Wha wud 
 haethocht there wes as muckle spunk in Bell ? " 
 
 " MacLure, of coorse, was clean scandalised," 
 continued Drumsheugh, " an' pooed awa' his hand 
 as if it hed been burned. 
 
 " Nae man can thole that kind o' fraikin', and 
 a* never heard o' sic a thing in the parish, but we 
 maun excuse Bell, neeburs ; it wes an occasion 
 by ordinar," and Drumsheugh made Bell's apology 
 to Drumtochty for such an excess of feeling. 
 
I9 2 A DOCTOR OF TKL OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 "A* see naethin' tae excuse," insisted Jamie l 
 who was in great fettle that Sabbath ; " the doctor 
 hes never been burdened wi' fees, and a'm judgin' 
 he coonted a wumman's gratitude that he saved 
 frae weedowhood the best he ever got." 
 
 " A* gaed up tae the Manse last nicht," con- 
 cluded Drumsheugh, " an* telt the minister hoo 
 the doctor focht aucht oors for Saunders' life, an' 
 won, an' ye never saw a man sae carried. He 
 walkit up an' doon the room a' the time, and every 
 other meenut he blew his nose like a trumpet. 
 
 " ' I've a cold in my head to-night, Drumsheugh/ 
 says he ; ' never mind me.'" 
 
 " A've hed the same masel* in sic circumstances ; 
 they come on sudden," said Jamie. 
 
 ' A f wager there 'ill be a new bit in the laist 
 prayer the day, an' somethin' worth hearinV 
 
 And the fathers went into kirk in great ex- 
 pectation. 
 
 44 We beseech Thee for such as be sick, that 
 Thy hand may be on them for good, and that Thou 
 wouldst restore them again to health and strength," 
 was the familiar petition of every Sabbath. 
 
 The congregation waited in a silence that might 
 be heard, and were not disappointed that morning, 
 for the minister continued : 
 
 " Especially we tender Thee hearty thanks that 
 Thou didst spare Thy servant who was brought 
 down into the dust of death, and hast given him 
 back to his wife and children, and unto that end 
 didst wonderfully bless the skill of him who goes 
 out and in amongst us, the beloved physician of 
 this parish and adjacent districts." 
 
 " Didna a' tell ye, neeburs ? " said Jamie, as 
 they stood at the kirkyard gate before dispersing ; 
 
A FIGHT WITH DBA TH, 1Q3 
 
 " there's no a man in the coonty cud hae dune it 
 better. ' Beloved physician/ an* his ' skill,' tae, 
 an' bringing in * adjacent districts ' ; that's Glen 
 Urtach ; it wes handsome, and the doctor earned 
 it, ay, every word. 
 
 " It's an awfu' peety he didna hear yon ; but 
 dear knows whar he is the day, maist likely 
 
 Jamie stopped suddenly at the sound of a. horse's 
 feet, and there, coming down the avenue of beech 
 trees that made a long vista from the kirk gate, 
 they saw the doctor and Jess, 
 
 One thought flashed through the minds of the 
 fathers of the commonwealth. 
 
 It ought to be done as he passed, and it would 
 be done if it .were not Sabbath. Of course it was 
 out of the question on Sabbath. 
 
 The doctor is now distinctly visible, riding after 
 his fashion. 
 
 There was never such a chance, if it were only 
 Saturday ; and each man reads his own regret in 
 his neighbour's face. 
 
 The doctor is nearing them rapidly; they can 
 imagine the shepherd's tartan. 
 
 Sabbath or no Sabbath, the Glen cannot let him 
 pass without some tribute of their pride. 
 
 Jess has recognised friends, and the doctor is 
 drawing rein. 
 
 " It hes tae be dune," said Jamie desperately, 
 " say what ye like." Then they all looked towards 
 him, and Jamie led. 
 
 " Hurrah ! " swinging his Sabbath hat in the air, 
 " hurrah ! " and once more, " hurrah ! " Whinnie 
 Knowe, Drumsheugh, and Hillocks joining lustily, 
 but Tamrnas Mitchell carrying all before him, for 
 
194 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 he had found at last an expression for his feelings 
 that rendered speech unnecessary. 
 
 It was a solitary experience for horse and rider, 
 and Jess bolted without delay. But the sound 
 followed and surrounded them, and as they passed 
 the corner of the kirkyard, a figure waved his 
 college cap over the wall and gave a cheer on his 
 own account. 
 
 " God bless you, doctor, and well done ! " 
 
 " If it isna the minister," cried Drumsheugh, " in 
 his goon an* bans ; tae think o' that ; but a' 
 respeck him for it." 
 
 Then Drumtochty became self-conscious and 
 went home in confusion of face and unbroken 
 silence, except Jamie Soutar, who faced his neigh- 
 bours at the parting of the ways without shame. 
 
 "A* wud dae it a' ower again if a* hed the 
 chance ; he got naethin* but his due." 
 
 It was two miles before Jess composed her mind, 
 and the doctor and she could discuss it quietly 
 together. 
 
 "A' can hardly believe ma ears, Jess, an* the 
 Sabbath tae ; their verra jidgment hes gane frae 
 the fouk o' Drumtochty. 
 
 " They've heard about Saunders, a'm thinkin', 
 wumman, and they're pleased we brocht him 
 roond ; he's fairly on the mend, ye ken, noo. 
 
 " A* never expeckit the like o' this, though, and it 
 wes juist a wee thingie mair than a* cud hae stude. 
 
 " Ye hev yir share in't tae, lass ; we've hed 
 mony a hard nicht and day thegither, an' yon wes 
 oor reward. No mony men in this warld 'ill ever 
 get a better, for it cam' from the hert o' honest 
 fouk." 
 
IV. 
 
 THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY. 
 
 DRUMTOCHTY had a vivid recollection of the 
 winter when Dr. MacLure was laid up for two 
 months with a broken leg, and the Glen was de- 
 pendent on the dubious ministrations of the Kil- 
 drummie doctor. Mrs. Macfadyen also pretended 
 to recall a " whup " of some kind or other he had 
 in the .fifties, but this was considered to be rather 
 a pyrotechnic display of Elspeth's superior memory 
 than a serious statement of fact. MacLure could 
 not have ridden through the snow of forty winters 
 without suffering, yet no one ever heard him com- 
 plain, and he never pled illness to any messenger by 
 night or day. 
 
 " It took me," said Jamie Soutar to Milton after- 
 wards, " the feck o* ten meenuts tae howk him an* 
 Jess oot ae snawy nicht when Drums turned bad 
 sudden, and if he didna try to excuse himself for 
 no hearing me at aince wi' some story aboot juist 
 comin' in frae Glen Urtach, an no bein' in his bed 
 for the laist twa nicht. 
 
 " He wes that carefu' o' himsel' an* lazy that if it 
 hedna been for the siller, a've often thocht, Milton, 
 he wud never hae dune a handstroke o' wark in the 
 Glen. 
 
 " What scunnered me wes the wy the bairns 
 were ta'en in wi' him. Man, a've seen him tak a 
 wee laddie on his knee that his ain mither cudna 
 quiet, an' lilt ' Sing a song o' saxpence ' till the bit 
 
1Q 6 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 mannie wud be lauchin' like a gutie ane, an* pooin 1 
 the doctor's beard. 
 
 "As for the weemen.he fair cuist a glamour ower 
 them ; they're daein' naethin' noo but speak aboot 
 this body and the ither he cured, an' hoo he aye hed 
 acouthy word for sick fouk. Weemen hae nae dis- 
 cernment, Milton; tae hear them speak ye wud think 
 MacLure hed been a releegious man like yersel', 
 although, as ye said, he wes little mair than a Gallic. 
 
 " Bell Baxter was haverin* awa in the shop tae 
 sic an extent aboot the wy MacLure brocht roond 
 Saunders when he hed the fever that a' gied oot at 
 the door, a' wes that disgusted, an' a'm telt when 
 Tammas Mitchell heard the news in the smiddy he 
 wes juist on the greetin'. 
 
 " The smith said that he wes thinkin' o' Annie's 
 tribble, but ony wy a' ca' it rael ?3airnly. It's no 
 like Drumtochty ; ye're setting an example, Milton, 
 wi' yir composure. But a' mind ye took the doctor's 
 meesure as sune as ye cam* intae the pairish." 
 
 It is the penalty of a cynic that he must have 
 some relief for his secret grief, and Milton began 
 to weary of life in Jamie's hands during those days. 
 
 Drumtochty was not observant in the matter of 
 health, but they had grown sensitive about Dr. 
 MacLure, and remarked in the kirkyard all sum- 
 mer that he was failing. 
 
 " He wes aye spare," said Hillocks, " an f he's been 
 sair twisted for the laist twenty year, but a* never 
 mind him booed till the year. An* he's gaein' intae 
 sma' buke [bulk], an' a* dinna like that, neeburs. 
 
 "The Glen wudna dae weel withoot Weelum 
 MacLure, an' he's no as young as he wes. Man, 
 Drumsheugh, ye micht wile him aff tae the saut 
 water atween the neeps and the hairst. He's been 
 
THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY. IQ7 
 
 workin* forty year for a holiday, an' it's aboot due/ 
 Drumsheugh was full of tact, and met MacLure 
 quite by accident on the road. 
 
 " Saunders 'ill no need me till the shearing be- 
 gins/' he explained to the doctor, " an' a'm gaein' 
 tae Brochty for a turn o' the hot baths ; they're 
 fine for the rheumatics. 
 
 " Wull ye no come wi' me for aulcl lang syne ? it's 
 lonesome for a solitary man,an'it would dae ye gude." 
 
 "Na, na, Drumsheugh," said MacLure, who 
 understood perfectly, "a've dune a' thae years 
 withoot a break, an* a'm laith [unwilling] tae be 
 takin' holidays at the tail end. 
 
 " A'll no be mony months wi' ye thegither noo. 
 an* a'm wanting tae spend a* the time a' hev in the 
 Glen. Ye see yersel' that a'll sune be getting ma 
 lang rest, an' a'll no deny that a'm wearyin* for it." 
 
 As autumn passed into winter, the Glen noticed 
 that the doctor's hair had turned gray, and that his 
 manner had lost all it's roughness. A feeling of 
 secret gratitude filled their hearts, and they united 
 in a conspiracy of attention. Annie Mitchell 
 knitted a huge comforter in red and white, which 
 the doctor wore in misery for one whole day, out 
 of respect for Annie, and then hung in his sitting- 
 room as a wall ornament. Hillocks used to inter- 
 cept him with hot drinks, and one drifting day 
 compelled him to shelter till the storm abated. 
 Flora Campbell brought a wonderful compound of 
 honey and whisky, much tasted in Auchindarroch, 
 for his cough, and the mother of young Burnbrae 
 filled his cupboard with black jam, as a healing 
 measure. Jamie Soutar seemed to have an endless 
 series of jobs in the doctor's direction, and looked 
 in " juist to rest himsel' " in the kitchen. 
 
t9 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 MacLure had been slowly taking in the situation, 
 and at last he unburdened himself one night to Jamie. 
 
 " What ails the fouk, think ye ? for they're aye 
 lecturin'me noo tae tak care o'the weetand tae wrap 
 niasel* up, an there's no a week but they're sendin' 
 bit presents tae the hoose, till a'm fair ashamed." 
 
 *' Oo, a '11 explain that in a meenut," answered 
 Jamie, " for a* ken the Glen weel. Ye see they're 
 juist tryin' the Scripture plan o' heapin' coals o f 
 fire on yer head. 
 
 " Here ye've been negleckin' the fouk in seek- 
 ness an* lettin' them dee afore their freends' eyes 
 withoot a fecht, an* refusin' tae gang tae a puir 
 wumman in her tribble, an' frichtenin' the bairns 
 no, a'm no dune and scourgin' us wi' fees, and 
 livin' yersel' on the fat o' the land. 
 
 " Ye've been carry in' on this trade ever sin yir 
 father dee'd, and the Glen didna notis. But ma 
 word, they've fund ye oot at laist, an* they're 
 gaein* tae mak ye suffer for a* yir ill usage. Div 
 ye understand noo ? " said Jamie savagely. 
 
 For a while MacLure was silent, and then he 
 only said : 
 
 " It's little a* did for the puir bodies ; but ye hev 
 a gude hert, Jamie, a rael gude hert." 
 
 It was a bitter December Sabbath, and the 
 fathers were settling the affairs of the parish ankle 
 deep in snow, when MacLure's old housekeeper 
 told Drumsheugh that the doctor was not able to 
 rise, and wished to see him in the afternoon. 
 
 " Ay, ay," said Hillocks, shaking his head, and 
 that day Drumsheugh omitted four pews with the 
 ladle, while Jamie was so vicious on the way home 
 that none could endure him. 
 
 Janet had lit a fire in the unused grate, and 
 
THE DOCTORS LAST JOURNEY. 1 99 
 
 hung a plaid by the window to break the power of 
 the cruel north wind, but the bare room with its 
 half a dozen bits of furniture and a worn strip of 
 carpet, and the outlook upon the snow drifted up 
 to the second pane of the window and the black 
 firs laden with their icy burden, sent a chill to- 
 Drumsheugh's heart. 
 
 The doctor had weakened sadly, and could 
 hardly lift his head, but his face lit up at the sight 
 of his visitor, and the big hand, which was now 
 quite refined in its whiteness, came out from the 
 bed-clothes with the old warm grip. 
 
 " Come in by, man, and sit doon ; it's an awfu' 
 day tae bring ye sae far, but a' kent ye wudna 
 grudge the traivel. 
 
 " A* wesna sure till last nicht, an* then a' felt k 
 wudna be lang, an* a* took a wearyin* this mornin* 
 tae see ye. 
 
 " We've been freends sin* we were laddies at 
 f he auld schule in the firs, an* a* wud like ye tae 
 be wi' me at the end. Ye'ill stay the nicht, Pait- 
 rick, for auld lang syne." 
 
 Drumsheugh was much shaken, and the sound 
 of the Christian name, which he had not heard 
 since his mother's death, gave him a " grue " 
 [shiver], as if one had spoken from the other world. 
 
 "It's maist awfu' tae hear ye speakin' aboot deein^ 
 Weelum ; a' canna bear it. We'ill hae the Muirtown 
 doctor up, an* ye'ill be aboot again in nae time. 
 
 " Ye hevna ony sair tribble ; ye're juist trachled 
 wi' hard wark an* needin' a rest. Dinna say ye're 
 gaein' tae leave us, Weelum ; we canna dae with- 
 oot ye in Drumtochty ; " and Drumsheugh looked 
 wistfully for some word of hope. 
 
 " Na, na, Paitrick ; naethin* can be dune, an' it's 
 
200 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 ower late tae send for ony doctor. There's a 
 knock that canna be mista'en, an' a' heard it last 
 night. A've focht deith for ither fouk mair than 
 forty year, but ma ain time hes come at laist. 
 
 " A've nae tribble worth mentionin* a bit titch 
 o' bronchitis an* a've hed a graund constitution ; 
 but a'm fair worn oot, Paitrick ; that's ma com- 
 plaint, an* it's past curin*." 
 
 Drumsheugh went over to the fireplace, and for a 
 while did nothing but break up the smouldering peats 
 whose smoke powerfully affected his nose and eyes. 
 
 " When ye're ready, Paitrick, there's twa or 
 three little trokes a* wud like ye tae look aifter, an' 
 a'll tell ye aboot them as lang's ma head's clear. 
 
 " A' didna keep buiks, as ye ken, for a' aye hed 
 a guid memory, so naebody 'ill be harried for 
 money aifter ma deith, and ye'ill hae nae accounts 
 tae collect. 
 
 " But the fouk are honest in Drumtochty, and 
 they'ill be offerin' ye siller, an* a'll gie ye ma mind 
 aboot it. Gin it be a puir body, tell her tae keep 
 it and get a bit plaidie wi' the money, and she'ill 
 maybe think o' her auld doctor at a time. Gin it 
 be a bien [well-to-do] man, tak half of what he 
 offers, for a Drumtochty man wud scorn to be 
 mean in sic circumstances ; and if onybody needs 
 a doctor an* canna pay for him, see he's no left tae 
 dee when a'm oot o' the road." 
 
 " Nae fear o' that as lang as a'm livin', Weelum. 
 That hundred's still tae the fore, ye ken, an* a'll tak 
 care it's weel spent. 
 
 " Yon wes the best job we ever did thegither, 
 an' dookin* Saunders ; ye'ill no forget that nicht, 
 Weelum," a gleam came into the doctor's eyes, 
 " tae say naethin' o' the Hielan' fling." 
 
THE DOCTORS LAST JOURNEY. 2OI 
 
 The remembrance of that great victory came 
 upon Drumsheugh, and tried his fortitude. 
 
 " What 'ill become o's when ye're no here tae 
 gie a hand in time o' need ? We'ill tak ill wi' a 
 stranger that disna ken ane o's frae anither." 
 
 " It's a' for the best, Paitrick, an* ye'ill see that 
 in a whilie. A've kent fine that ma day wes ower, 
 an* that ye sud hae a younger man. 
 
 " A' did what a* cud tae keep up wi' the new 
 medicine, but a' hed little time for readin', an' nane 
 for traivellin'. 
 
 " A'm the last o' the auld schule, an' a' ken as 
 weel as onybody thet a' wesna sae dainty an' fine- 
 mannered as the town doctors. Ye took me as a' 
 wes, an' naebody ever cuist up tae me that a' wes 
 a plain man. Na, na ; ye've been rael kind an' 
 conseederate a* thae years." 
 
 " Weelum, gin ye cairry on sic nonsense ony 
 langer," interrupted Drumsheugh, huskily, " a'll 
 leave the hoose ; a* canna stand it." 
 
 " It's the truth, Paitrick, but we'ill gae on wi' 
 our wark, for a'm failin' fast. 
 
 " Gie Janet ony sticks of furniture she needs tae 
 furnish a hoose, and sell a* thing else tae pay the 
 wricht [undertaker] an' bedrel [grave-digger]. If 
 the new doctor be a young laddie and no verra 
 rich, ye micht let him hae the buiks an' instru- 
 ments ; it 'ill aye be a help. 
 
 " But a' wudna like ye tae sell Jess, for she's 
 been a faithfu' servant, an' a freend tae. There's 
 a note or twa in that drawer a* savit, an* if ye kent 
 ony man that wud gie her a bite o' grass and a sta' 
 in his stable till she followed her maister '* 
 
 "Confoond ye, Weelum," broke out Drum* 
 sheugh ; " its doonricht cruel o' ye to speak like this 
 
202 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 tae me. Whar wud Jess gang but tae Drum- 
 sheugh ? She'ill hae her run o f heck an* manger 
 sae lang as she lives ; the Glen wudna like tae see 
 anither man on Jess, and nae man 'ill ever touch 
 the auld mare." 
 
 "Dinna mind me, Paitrick, for a* expeckit this; 
 but ye ken we're no verra gleg wi* oor tongues in 
 Drumtochty, an' clinna tell a' that's in oor hearts. 
 
 " Weel, that's a* that a* mind, an* the rest a* 
 leave tae yersel'. A've neither kith nor kin tae 
 bury me, sae you and the neeburs 'ill need tae 
 lat me doon ; but gin Tammas Mitchell or 
 Saunders be stannin' near and lookin' as if they 
 wud like a cord, gie't tae them, Paitrick. Their 
 baith dour chiels, and haena muckle tae say, but 
 Tammas hes a graund hert, and there's waur fouk 
 in the Glen than Saunders. 
 
 " A'm gettin* drowsy, an* a'H no be able tae 
 follow ye sune, a* doot ; wud ye read a bit tae 
 me afore a' fa* ower ? 
 
 " Ye'ill find ma mither's Bible on the drawers' 
 heid, but ye'ill need tae come close tae the bed, 
 for a'am no hearin' or seein* sae weel as a* wes 
 when ye cam'/' 
 
 Drumsheugh put on his spectacles and searched 
 for a comfortable Scripture, while the light of the 
 lamp fell on his shaking hands and the doctor's 
 face, where the shadow was now settling, 
 
 " Ma mither aye wantit this read tae her when 
 she wes sober" [weak], and Drumsheugh began, 
 ' In My Father's house are many mansions," but 
 MacLure stopped him, 
 
 " It's a bonnie word, an* yir mither wes a sanct ; 
 but it's no for the like o' me. It's ower gude ; a' 
 daurna tak it. 
 
THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY. 203 
 
 44 Shut the buik an* let it open itsel', an* ye'ill get 
 a bit a've been readin' every nicht the laist month." 
 
 Then Drumsheugh found the Parable wherein 
 the Master tells what God thinks of a Pharisee 
 and of a penitent sinner, till he came to the words : 
 " And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift 
 up so much as his eyes to heaven, but smote 
 upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a 
 sinner." 
 
 " That micht hae been written for me, Paitrick, 
 or ony ither auld sinner that hes feenished his 
 ^ life, an* hes naething tae say for himser. 
 IT " It wesna easy for me tae get tae kirk, but a' 
 { cud hae managed wi' a stretch, an* a* used Ian- 
 ; gidge a* sudna, an* a* micht hae been gentler, and 
 no been so short in the temper. A' see't a' noo.* 
 
 " It's ower late tae mend, but ye'ill maybe juist 
 \ say to the fouk that I wes sorry, an* a'm houpin' 
 that the Almichty 'ill hae mercy on me. 
 
 " Cud ye ... pit up a bit prayer, Paitrick ? " 
 
 "A* haena the words," said Drumsheugh in 
 great distress ; " wud ye like's tae send for the 
 minister ? " 
 
 " It's no the time for that noo, an* a* wud rather 
 hae yersel' juist what's in yir heart, Paitrick : the 
 Almichty 'ill ken the lave [rest Himsel'." 
 
 So Drumsheugh knelt and prayed with many 
 pauses. 
 
 " Almichty God . . dinna be hard on Weelum 
 MacLure, for he's no been hard wi' onybody in 
 Drumtochty. . . Be kind tae him as he's been 
 tae us a* for forty year. . . We're a' sinners afore 
 Thee. . . Forgive him what he's dune wrang, 
 an' dinna cuist it up tae him. . . Mind the fouk 
 he's helpit . . . the weemen an' bairnies ... an' 
 
.204 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 gie him a welcome hame, for he's sair needin't aifter 
 a' his wark. . . Amen." 
 
 " Thank ye, Paitrick, and gude nicht tae ye. Ma 
 ain true freend, gie's yir hand, for a'll maybe no 
 ken ye again. 
 
 " Noo a'll say ma mither's prayer and hae a 
 sleep, but ye'ill no leave me till a' is ower." 
 
 Then he repeated as he had done every night of 
 his life : 
 
 44 This night I lay me down to sleep, 
 I pray the Lord my soul to keep, 
 And if I die before I wake, 
 I pray the Lord my soul to take." 
 
 He was sleeping quietly when the wind drove the 
 snow against the window with a sudden " swish ; " 
 and he instantly awoke, so to say, in his sleep. 
 Someone needed him. 
 
 " Are ye frae Glen Urtach ? " and an unheard 
 voice seemed to have answered him. 
 
 " Worse is she, an' sufferin' awfu' ; that's no 
 lichtsome ; ye did richt tae come. 
 
 "The front door's drifted up; gang roond tae the 
 back, an* ye'ill get intae the kitchen ; a'll be ready 
 in a meenut. 
 
 " Gie/s a hand wi' the lantern when a'm saidling 
 Jess, an* ye needna come on till daylicht ; a' ken 
 the road." 
 
 Then he was away in his sleep on some errand 
 of mercy, and struggling through the storm. 
 
 " It's a coorse nicht, Jess, an* heavy traivellin'; 
 can ye see afore ye, lass ? for a'm clean confused 
 wi' the snaw ; bide a wee till a' find the diveesion 
 o' the roads ; it's aboot here back or forrit. 
 
 " Steady, lass, steady, dinna plunge ; it's a drift 
 
THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY. 2p5 
 
 we're in, but ye're no sinkin' ; ... up noo ; . . . 
 there ye are on the road again. 
 
 " Eh, it's deep the nicht, an' hard on us baith, 
 but there's a puir wumman micht dee if we didna 
 warstle through ; . . . that's it ; ye ken fine 
 what a'm sayin'. 
 
 " We'ill hae tae leave the road here, an' tak tae 
 the muir. Sandie 'ill no can leave the wife alane 
 tae meet us ; ... feel for yersel', lass, and keep 
 oot o' the holes. 
 
 " Yon's the hoose, black in the snaw. Sandie ! 
 man, ye frichtened us ; a' didna see ye ahint the 
 dyke ; hoo's the wife? " 
 
 After a while he began again : 
 
 " Ye're fair dune, Jess, and so a' am masel' ; 
 we're baith gettin' auld, an' dinna tak sae weel wi' 
 the nicht wark. 
 
 " We'ill sune be hame noo ; this is the black 
 wood, and it's no lang aifter that ; we're ready for 
 oor beds, Jess ; ... ay, ye like a clap at a time ; 
 mony a mile we've gaed thegither. 
 
 "Yon's the licht in the kitchen window; nae 
 wonder ye're nickering [neighing] ; . . . it's 
 been a stiff journey ; a'm tired, lass . . . a'm 
 tired tae deith," and the voice died into silence. 
 
 Drumsheugh held his friend's hand, which now 
 and again tightened in his, and as he watched, a 
 change came over the face on the pillow beside 
 him. The lines of weariness disappeared, as if 
 God's hand had passed over it ; and peace began 
 to gather round the closed eyes. 
 
 The doctor has forgotten the toil of later years, 
 and has gone back to his boyhood. 
 
 " The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want," 
 
206 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 he repeated, till he came to the last verse, and then 
 he hesitated. 
 
 " ' Goodness and mercy all my life 
 Shall surely follow me.' 
 
 "Follow me . . . and . . . and . . . what's next? 
 Mither said I wes tae hae't ready when she cam'. 
 
 " * A'll come afore ye gang tae sleep, Wullie, but 
 ye'ill no get yir kiss unless ye canfeenish the psalm.' 
 
 " And ... in God's house ... for evermore 
 my . . . hoo clis it rin ? a' canna mind the next 
 word . . . my, my 
 
 " It's ower dark noo tae read it, an' mither 'ill 
 sune be comin'." 
 
 Drumsheugh, in an agony, whispered into his 
 ear, " ' My dwelling-place,' Weelum.'' 
 
 " That's it, that's it a' noo ; wha said it ? 
 
 44 * And in God's house for evermore 
 My dwelling-place shall be.' 
 
 " A'm ready noo, an' a'll get ma kiss when 
 mither comes ; a' wish she wud come, for a'm 
 tired an* wantin' tae sleep. 
 
 " Yon's her step . . . an' she's carryin' a licht in 
 her hand ; a' see it through the door. 
 
 " Mither ! a' kent ye wudna forget yir laddie, for 
 ye promised tae come, and a've feenished ma psalm. 
 
 " ' And in God's house for evermore 
 My dwelling-place shall be.' 
 
 " Gie me the kiss, mither, for a've been waitin' 
 for ye, an' a'll sune be asleep." 
 
 The gray morning light fell on Drumsheugh, 
 still holding his friend's cold hand, and staring 
 at a hearth where the fire had died down into 
 white ashes ; but the peace on the doctor's face 
 was of one who rested from his labours. 
 
V. 
 
 THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN. 
 
 DR. MACLURE was buried during the great 
 snowstorm, which is still spoken of, and will 
 remain the standard of snowfall in Drumtochty 
 for the century. The snow was deep on the 
 Monday, and the men that gave notice of his 
 funeral had hard work to reach the doctor's dis- 
 tant patients. On Tuesday morning it began to 
 fall again in heavy, fleecy flakes, and continued 
 till Thursday, and then on Thursday the north 
 wind rose and swept the snow into the hollows of 
 the roads that went to the upland farms, and built 
 it into a huge bank at the mouth of Glen Urtach, 
 and laid it across our main roads in drifts of every 
 size and the most lovely shapes, and filled up 
 crevices in the hills to the depth of fifty feet. 
 
 On Friday morning the wind had sunk to pass- 
 ing gusts that powdered your coat with white, and 
 the sun was shining on one of those winter land- 
 scapes no townsman can imagine and no country- 
 man ever forgets. The Glen, from end to end and 
 side to side, was clothed in a glistering mantle 
 white as no fuller on earth could white it, that 
 flung its skirts over the clumps of trees and 
 scattered farmhouses, and was only divided where 
 the Tochty ran with black, swollen stream. The 
 great moor rose and fell in swelling billows of 
 snow that arched themselves over the burns, 
 running deep in the mossy ground, and hid the 
 
208 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 black peat bogs with a thin, treacherous crust. 
 Beyond the hills northwards and westwards stood 
 high in white majesty, save where the black crags 
 of Glen Urtach broke the line, and, above our lower 
 Grampians, we caught glimpses of the distant 
 peaks that lifted their heads in holiness unto God. 
 
 It seemed to me a fitting day for William 
 MacLure's funeral, rather than summer time, 
 with its flowers and golden corn. He had not 
 been a soft man, nor had he lived an easy life, and 
 now he was to be laid to rest amid the austere 
 majesty of winter, yet in the shining of the sun. 
 Jamie Soutar, with whom I toiled across the Glen, 
 did not think with me, but was gravely concerned. 
 
 " Nae doot it's a graund s'cht ; the like o't is no 
 gien tae us twice in a generation, an' nae king wes 
 ever carried tae his tomb in sic a cathedral. 
 
 " But it's the fouk a'm conseederin', ae' hoo they 
 'ill win through ; it's hard eneuch for them 'at's on 
 the road, an' it's clean impossible for the lave. 
 
 " They'ill dae their best, every man o' them, ye 
 may depend on that, an' hed it been open weather 
 there wudna hev been six able-bodied men missin'. 
 
 " A' wes mad at them, because they never said 
 onything when he wes leevin', but they felt for a' 
 that what he hed dune, an', a' think, he kent it 
 afore he deed. 
 
 " He hed juist ae faut, tae ma thinkin', fer a' 
 never jidged the waur o' him for his titch of roch- 
 ness guid trees hae gnarled bark but he thocht 
 ower little o' himsel'. 
 
 "Noo, gin a' hed asked him hoo mony fouk wud 
 come tae his beerial, he wud hae said, ' They'ill 
 be Drumsheugh an' yersel', an' maybe twa or three 
 neeburs besides the minister,' an' the fact is that 
 
THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN. 20Q 
 
 nae man in oor time wud hae sic a githerin' if it 
 werena for the storm. 
 
 " Ye see," said Jamie, who had been counting 
 heads all morning, " there's six shepherds in Glen 
 Urtach they're shut up fast : an' there micht 
 hae been a gude half dizen frae Dunleith wy, 
 an' a'm telt there's nae road ; an' there's the heich 
 Glen, nae man cud cross the muir the day, an' it's 
 aucht mile roond ; " and Jamie proceeded to re- 
 view the Glen in every detail of age, driftiness of 
 road and strength of body, till we arrived at the 
 doctor's cottage, when he had settled on a reduc- 
 tion of fifty through stress of weather. 
 
 Drumsheugh was acknowledged as chief mourner 
 by the Glen, and received us at the gate with a 
 laboured attempt at everyday manners. 
 
 " Ye've hed heavy traivellin', a' doot, an' ye'ill be 
 cauld. It's hard weather for the sheep, an' a'm 
 thinkin' this 'ill be a feeding storm. 
 
 " There wes nae use trying tae dig oot the front 
 door yestreen, for it would hae been drifted up 
 again before morning. We've cleared awa the 
 snow at the back for the prayer ; ye'ill get in at the 
 kitchen door. 
 
 " There's a puckle Dunleith men " 
 
 " Wha ! " cried Jamie in an instant. 
 
 " Dunleith men," said Drumsheugh. 
 
 " Div ye mean they're here, whar are they ? " 
 
 " Drying themsel's at the fire, an' no withoot 
 need ; ane o' them gied ower the head in a drift, 
 and his neeburs hed tae pu' him oot. 
 
 " It took them a gude fower oors tae gfet across, 
 an' it wes coorse wark ; they likit him weel doon 
 that wy, an', Jamie man," here Drumsheugh's 
 voice changed its note, and his public manner dis- 
 
210 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 appeared " what div ye think o' this? every man 
 o' them hes on his blacks." 
 
 " It's mair than cud be expeckit," said Jamie ; 
 " but whar dae yon men come frae, Drumsheugh ? " 
 
 Two men in plaids were descending the hill be- 
 hind the doctor's cottage, taking three feet at a 
 stride, and carrying long staffs in their hands. 
 
 " They're Glen Urtach men, Jamie, for ane o' 
 them wes at Kildrummie fair wi' sheep, but hoo 
 they've wun doon passes me." 
 
 " It canna be, Drumsheugh," said Jamie, greatly 
 excited. " Glen Urtach's steikit up wi' sna' like a 
 locked door. 
 
 " Ye're no surely frae the Glen, lads ? " as the 
 men leaped the dyke and crossed to the back door, 
 the snow falling from their plaids as they walked. 
 
 " We're that, an' nae mistak, but a' thocht we 
 wud be lickit ae place, eh, Charlie? a'm no sae 
 weel acquant wi' the hill on this side, an' there wer 
 some kittle [hazardous] drifts." 
 
 " It wes grand o' ye tae mak the attempt," said 
 Drumsheugh, " an' a'm gled ye're safe." 
 
 " He cam' through as bad himsel' tae help my 
 wife," was Charlie's reply. 
 
 " They're three mair Urtach shepherds 'ill come 
 in by sune ; they're frae Upper Urtach, an* we saw 
 them fordin' the river ; ma certes, it took them a' 
 their time, for it wes up tae their waists and rinnin' 
 like a mill lade, but they jined hands and cam* 
 ower fine." And the Urtach men went in to the fire. 
 
 The Glen began to arrive in twos and threes, and 
 Jamie, from a point of vantage at the gate, and 
 under an appearance of utter indifference, checked 
 his roll till even he was satisfied. 
 
 " Weelum MacLure '11 hae the beerial he deserves 
 
THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN. 211 
 
 in spite o' sna' and drifts ; it passes a' tae see hoo 
 they've githered frae far an' near. 
 
 " A'm thinkin ye can colleck them for the min- 
 ister noo, Drumsheugh. A'body's here except the 
 heich Glen, an' we mauna luke for them." 
 
 " Dinna be sae sure o' that, Jamie. Yon's 
 terrible like them on the road, wi' Whinnie at their 
 head ; " and so it was, twelve in all, only old Adam 
 Ross absent, detained by force, being eighty-two 
 years of age. 
 
 " It wud hae been temptin' Providence tae cross 
 the muir," Whinnie explained, " and it's a fell stap 
 roond ; a' doot we're laist." 
 
 " See, Jamie," said Drumsheugh, as he went to the 
 house, " gin there beony antern body in sicht afore 
 we begin ; we maun mak allooances the day wi' twa 
 feet o' sna' on the grund, tae say naethin' o' drifts." 
 
 " There's somethin' at the turnin', an' it's no 
 fouk ; it's a machine o' some kind or ither maybe 
 a bread cart that's focht it's wy up." 
 
 " Na, it's no that ; there's tvva horses, ane afore 
 the ither ; if it's no a dogcairt wi' twa men in the 
 front ; they 'ill be comin' tae the beerial." 
 
 " What wud ye sae, Jamie," Hillocks suggested, 
 " but it micht be some o' thae Muirtown doctors? 
 they were awfu' chief wi' MacLure." 
 
 " It's nae Muirtown doctors," cried Jamie, in 
 great exultation, " nor ony ither doctors. A' ken 
 thae horses, and wha's ahint them. Quick, man, 
 Hillocks, stop the fouk, and tell Drumsheugh tae 
 come oot, for Lord Kilspindie hes come up frae 
 Muirtown Castle." 
 
 Jamie himself slipped behind, and did not wish 
 to be seen. 
 
 " It's the respeck he's gettin' the day frae high 
 
212 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 an' low," was Jamie's husky apology ; " tae think 
 o' them fechtin' their wy doon frae Glen Urtach, 
 and toilin' roond frae the heich Glen, an' his lord- 
 ship drivin' through the drifts a' the road frae Muir- 
 town, juist tae honour Weelum MacLure's beerial. 
 
 " It's nae ceremony the day, ye may lippen tae 
 it ; it's the hert brocht the fouk, an' ye can see it 
 in their faces ; ilka man hes his ain reason, an' he's 
 thinkin' on't, though he's speakin' o' naethin' but 
 the storm ; he's mindin' the day Weelum pued him 
 oot frae the jaws o' death, or the nicht he savit 
 the gude wife in her oor o' tribble. 
 
 " That's why they pit on their blacks this 
 mornin' afore it wes licht, and warstled through 
 the sna' drifts at risk o' life. Drumtochty fouk 
 canna say muckle, it's an awfu' peety, and they 
 'ill dae their best tae show naethin', but a' can 
 read it a' in their een. 
 
 " " But wae's me " and Jamie broke down 
 utterly behind a fir tree, so tender a thing is a 
 cynic's heart " that fouk 'ill tak a man's best 
 wark a' his days withoot a word an* no dae him 
 honour till he dees. Oh, if they hed only githered 
 like this juist aince when he wes livin', an' lat him 
 see he hedna laboured in vain. His reward hes 
 come ower late, ower late." TT~' 
 
 During Jamie's vain regret, the Castle trap, 
 bearing the marks of a wild passage in the snow- 
 covered wheels, a broken shaft tied with rope, a 
 twisted lamp, and the panting horses, pulled up 
 between two rows of farmers, and Drumsheugh 
 received his lordship with evident emotion. 
 
 " Ma lord ... we never thocht o' this . . . 
 an* sic a road." 
 
 " How are you, Drumsheugh ? and how are you 
 
THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN. 213 
 
 all this wintry day? That's how I'm half an hour 
 late ; it took us four hours' stiff work for sixteen 
 miles, mostly in the drifts, of course." 
 
 " It wes gude o' yir lordship tae mak' sic an 
 effort, an' the hale Glen wull be gratefu' tae ye, 
 for ony kindness tae him is kindness tae us." 
 
 "You make too much of it, Drumsheugh,"and the 
 clear, firm voice was heard of all ; " it would have 
 taken more than a few snowdrifts to keep me from 
 showing my respect to William MacLure's memory." 
 
 When all had gathered in a half circle before the 
 kitchen door, Lord Kilspindie came out every 
 man noticed he had left his overcoat, and was in 
 black, like the Glen and took a place in the 
 middle with Drumsheugh and Burnbrae, his two 
 chief tenants, on the right and left, and as the 
 minister appeared every man bared his head. 
 
 The doctor looked on the company a hundred 
 men such as for strength and gravity you could 
 hardly have matched in Scotland standing out in 
 picturesque relief against the white background, 
 and he said : 
 
 " It's a bitter day, friends, and some of you are 
 old ; perhaps it might be wise to cover your heads 
 before I begin to pray." 
 
 Lord Kilspindie, standing erect and gray-headed 
 between the two old men, replied : 
 
 " We thank you, Dr. Davidson, for your thought- 
 fulness ; but he endured many a storm in our serv- 
 ice, and we are not afraid of a few minutes' cold 
 at his funeral.'' 
 
 A look flashed round the stern faces, and was re- 
 flected from the minister, who seemed to stand 
 higher. 
 
 His prayer, we noticed with critical apprecia- 
 
214 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 tion, was composed for the occasion, and the first 
 part was a thanksgiving to God for the life-work 
 of our doctor, wherein each clause was a reference 
 to his services and sacrifices. No one moved or 
 said Amen, it had been strange with us, but 
 when every man had heard the gratitude of his dumb 
 heart offered to Heaven, there was a great sigh. 
 
 After which the minister prayed that we might 
 have grace to live as this man had done from 
 youth to old age, not for himself, but for others, 
 and that we might be followed to our grave by 
 somewhat of " that love wherewith we mourn this 
 day Thy servant departed." Again the same sigh, 
 and the minister said Amen. 
 
 The " wricht" stood in the doorway without speak- 
 ing,and four stalwart men came forward. They were 
 the volunteers that would lift the coffin and carry it- 
 for the first stage. One was Tammas, Annie Mitch- 
 ell's man ; and another was Saunders Baxter, for 
 whose life MacLure had his great fight with Death ; 
 and the third was the Glen Urtach shepherd for 
 whose wife's sake MacLure suffered a broken leg 
 and three fractured ribs in a drift ; and the fourth, a 
 Dunleith man, had his own reasons of remembrance. 
 
 " He's far lichter than ye wud expeck for sae 
 big a man there wesna muckle left o' him, ye 
 see but the road is heavy, and a'll change ye 
 aifter the first half mile." 
 
 " Ye needna tribble yerself, wricht," said the 
 man from Glen Urtach ; " the'ill be nae change in 
 the cairryin' the day," and Tammas was thankful 
 someone had saved him speaking. 
 
 Surely no funeral is like unto that of a doctor 
 for pathos, and a peculiar sadness fell on that 
 company as his body was carried out who for 
 
THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN. 21$ 
 
 nearly half a century had been their help in sickness, 
 and had beaten back Death time after time from 
 their door. Death after all was victor, for the man 
 that saved them had not been able to save himself. 
 
 As the coffin passed the stable door a horse 
 neighed within, and every man looked at his neigh- 
 bour. It was his old mare crying to her master. 
 
 Jamie slipped into the stable, and went up into 
 the stall. 
 
 " Puir lass, ye're no gaein' wi' him the day, an 
 ye'ill never see him again ; ye've hed yir last ride 
 thegither, an' ye were true tae the end." 
 
 After the funeral Drumsheugh came himself for 
 Jess, and took her to his farm. Saunders made a 
 bed for her with soft, dry straw, and prepared for 
 her supper such things as horses love. Jess would 
 "neither take food nor rest, but moved uneasily in 
 her stall, and seemed to be waiting for someone 
 that never came. No man knows what a horse or 
 a dog understands and feels, for God hath not 
 given them our speech. If any footstep was heard 
 in the courtyard, she began to neigh, and was 
 always looking around as the door opened. But 
 nothing would tempt her to eat, and in the night- 
 time Drumsheugh heard her crying as if she ex- 
 pected to be taken out for some sudden journey. 
 The Kildrummie veterinary came to see her, and 
 said that nothing could be done when it happened 
 after this fashion with an old horse. 
 
 " A've seen it aince afore," he said. " Gin she 
 were a Christian instead o' a horse, ye micht say 
 she was dying o' a broken hert. " 
 
 He recommended that she should be shot to end 
 her misery, but no man could be found in the Glen 
 to do the deed, and Jess relieved them of the 
 
216 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 trouble. When Drumsheugh went to the stable 
 on Monday morning, a week after Dr. MacLure 
 fell on sleep, Jess was resting at last, but her eyes 
 were open and her face turned to the door. 
 
 " She wes a' the wife he hed," said Jamie, as 
 he rejoined the procession, " an' they luved ane 
 anither weel." 
 
 The black thread wound itself along the white- 
 ness of the Glen, the coffin first, with his lordship 
 and Drumsheugh behind, and the others as they 
 pleased, but in closer ranks than usual, because 
 the snow on either side was deep, and because 
 this was not as other funerals. They could see 
 the women standing at the door of every house on 
 the hillside, and weeping, for each family had some 
 good reason in forty years to remember MacLure. 
 When Bell Baxter saw Saunders alive; and the 
 coffin of the doctor that saved him on her man's 
 shoulder, she bowed her head on the dyke, and the 
 bairns in the village made such a wail for him they 
 loved that the men nearly disgraced themselves. 
 
 " A'm gled we're through that, at ony rate," 
 said Hillocks ; " he wes awfu' taen up wi' the 
 bairns, conseederin' he hed nane o' his ain." 
 
 There was only one drift on the road between 
 his cottage and kirkyard, and it had been cut early 
 that morning. 
 
 Before daybreak Saunders had roused the lads 
 in the bothy, and they had set to work by the light 
 of lanterns with such good will that, when 
 Drumsheugh came down to engineer a circuit for 
 the funeral, there was a fair passage, with walls of 
 snow twelve feet high on either side. 
 
 " Man, Saunders," he said, " this wes a kind 
 thocht, and rael weel dune." 
 
THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN. 217 
 
 Bnt Saunders' only reply was this : 
 
 " Mony a time he's hed tae gang roond; he micht 
 as weel hae an open road for his last traivel." 
 
 When the coffin was laid down at the mouth of 
 the grave, the only blackness in the white kirkyard. 
 Tammas Mitchell did the most beautiful thing in 
 all his life. He knelt down and carefully wiped 
 off the snow the wind had blown upon the coffin, 
 and which had covered the name, and when he 
 had done this he disappeared behind the others, 
 so that Drumsheugh could hardly find him to take 
 a cord. For these were the eight that buried Dr. 
 MacLure Lord Kilspindie at the head as landlord 
 and Drumsheugh at the feet as his friend ; the two 
 ministers of the parish came first on the right and 
 laft ; then Burnbrae and Hillocks of the farmers, 
 and Saunders and Tammas for the ploughmen. So 
 the Glen he loved laid him to rest. 
 
 When the bedrel had finished his work and 
 the turf had been spread, Lord Kilspindie spoke : 
 
 " Friends of Drumtochty, it would not be right 
 that we should part in silence and no man say 
 what is in every heart. We have buried the re- 
 mains of one that served this Glen with a devotion 
 that has known no reserve, and a kindliness that 
 never failed, for more than forty years. I have 
 seen many brave men in my day, but no man in 
 the trenches of Sebastopol carried himself more 
 knightly than William MacLure. You will never 
 have heard from his lips what I may tell you to- 
 day, that my father secured for him a valuable post 
 in his younger days, and he preferred to work 
 among his own people ; and I wished to do many 
 things for him when he was old, but he would 
 have nothing for himself. He will never be forgot- 
 
218 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 ten while one of us lives, and I pray that all doctors 
 everywhere may share his spirit. If it be your pleas- 
 ure, I shall erect a cross above his grave and shall 
 ask my old friend and companion Dr. Davidson, 
 your minister, to choose the text to be inscribed," 
 
 "We thank you, Lord Kilspindie," said the doc- 
 tor, " for your presence with us in our sorrow and 
 your tribute to the memory of William MacLure, 
 and I choose this for his text : 
 
 " * Greater love hath no man than this, that a \ 
 man lay down his life for his friends.' " 
 
 Milton was, at that time, held in the bonds of 
 a very bitter theology, and his indignation was 
 stirred by this unqualified eulogium. 
 
 " No doubt Dr. MacLure hed mony natural vir- 
 tues, an' he did his wark weel, but it was a peety 
 he didna mak mair profession o' releegion." 
 
 " When William MacLure appears before the 
 Judge, Milton," said Lachlan Campbell, who that 
 day spoke his last words in public, and they were in 
 defence of charity, " He will not be asking him about 
 his professions, for the doctor's judgment hass been 
 ready long ago ; and it iss a good judgment, and 
 you and I will be happy men if we get the like of it. 
 
 " It iss written in the Gospel, but it iss William 
 MacLure that will not be expecting it." 
 
 "What is't, Lachlan?" asked Jamie Souter eagerly. 
 
 The old man, now very feeble, stood in the mid- 
 dle of the road, and his face, once so hard, was 
 softened into a winsome tenderness, 
 
 " ' Come, ye blessed of My father ... I was 
 sick, and ye visited Me.' " 
 
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