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IIIKIIIT 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY 09 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2007 with funding from 
 
 Microsoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/bonniebriebesideOOmaclrich 
 
BESIDE THE BONNIE BRIER BUSH 
 

i son, J***, /Z5-*-/9t>7 
 
IOAN SfACfc 
 
 COPYKIGHT, 1894 
 
 By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, 
 All rights reserved. 
 

 TO MY WIFE 
 
 OK5* 
 
PUBLISHERS 1 NOTE 
 
 The illustrations in this book are from photo- 
 graphs taken in Logiealmond (Drumtochty) by 
 Mr. Clifton Johnson, who has so well illustrated 
 other books in the same manner. They are actual 
 pictures of scenes in which the stories are laid, and 
 of the people who move amid these scenes, and 
 who are the original types from which the char- 
 acters are drawn. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 mm 
 L DOMSIE. 
 
 i. A Lad o' Pairts, 3 
 
 2. how we carried the news to whinnie 
 
 Knowe, 19 
 
 3. |n Marget's Garden, .... 29 
 
 4. A Scholar's Funeral, .... 42 
 
 II. A HIGHLAND MYSTIC. 
 
 1. What Eye hath not seen, ... 59 
 
 2. Against Principalities and Powers, . 72 
 
 III. HIS MOTHER'S SERMON, . . . . 87 
 
 IV. THE TRANSFORMATION OF LACHLAN 
 
 CAMPBELL. 
 
 1. A Grand Inquisitor, . . .105 
 
 2. His Bitter Shame, 124 
 
 3. Like as a Father, 144 
 
 4. As a Little Child, • . 160 
 
 vii 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 V. THE CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUM- 
 
 TOCHTY, i 79 
 
 VI. A WISE WOMAN. 
 
 i. Our Sermon Taster, .... 201 
 
 2. The Collapse of Mrs. Macfadyen, . 216 
 
 VII. A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 
 
 1. A General Practitioner, . . , 233 
 
 2. Through the Flood, .... 252 
 
 3. A Fight with Death, . . . .271 
 
 4. The Doctor's last Journey, . . 290 
 
 5. The Mourning of the Glen, . . 309 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Frontispiece 
 
 Playing "Tig* among the Trees 
 
 A Corner of the Garden 
 
 Looking down on the Glen from the 
 to the Moor 
 
 Wood 
 
 The Free Kirk 
 
 The Minister in the Manse Garden 
 
 In a Fir Wood Praying 
 
 Lachlan's Bible Reading 
 
 The Village Shop . 
 
 Gathering Flowers in a Pine 
 
 Above Ninety 
 
 In a Cottage Kitchen . 
 
 Mrs MacFadyen 
 
 Mrs. MacFadyen's Wall of Crockery 
 
 Napping Stones 
 
 Weelum MacLure's House 
 
 Glen Urtach . 
 
 MacLure taks oot the bit Bottles 
 
 Annie comin' tae meet me . 
 
 Path 
 
 Page 
 
 7 
 
 << 
 
 29 
 
 (< 
 
 63 
 
 «« 
 
 73 
 
 << 
 
 87 
 
 a 
 
 109 
 
 (< 
 
 117 
 
 «< 
 
 131 
 
 << 
 
 H3 
 
 «< 
 
 157 
 
 (i 
 
 187 
 
 «t 
 
 199 
 
 << 
 
 215 
 
 <( 
 
 227 
 
 (< 
 
 233 
 
 << 
 
 239 
 
 •1 
 
 245 
 
 (( 
 
 253 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Tammas Threshing 
 
 The Vista of Beeches near the Kirk Gate 
 
 The Smiddy . . . 
 
 Drumsheugh searched for a Comfortable 
 Scripture .... Facing 
 
 The Drumtochty Wricht in his Shop 
 
 Women Standing at the Door . . • 
 
 Page 267 
 
 << 
 
 28S 
 
 44 
 
 393 
 
 «( 
 
 302 
 
 <( 
 
 319 
 
 14 
 
 323 
 
DOMSIE 
 
* There grows a bonnie brier bush in our kail-yard. 
 And white are the blossoms on 7 in our kail-yard? 
 
A LAD O* PAIRTS 
 
 The Revolution reached our parish years 
 ago, and Drumtochty has a School Board, with 
 a chairman and a clerk, besides a treasurer and 
 an officer. Young Hillocks, who had two 
 years in a lawyer's office, is clerk, and sum- 
 mons 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. 
 
4 DOMSIE 
 
 "Think o* you and me, Hillocks, veesitin* 
 the schule and sittin' wf bukes in oor hands 
 watchin' the Inspector. Keep's a', it' eneuch 
 to mak' the auld Dominie turn in his grave. 
 Twa meenisters 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 copy- 
 buke. Syne they had their dinner, and Dom- 
 sie 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, tree- 
 less 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 
 
A LAD O' PAIRTS 5 
 
 house, all very neat and symmetrical, and well 
 regulated. The local paper had a paragraph 
 headed " Drumtochty," written by the Muir- 
 town architect, describing the whole premises 
 in technical language that seemed to compen- 
 sate the ratepayers for the cost, mentioning 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 5 8° 
 and not more than 62 , and ventilators which 
 the Inspector is careful to examine. When I 
 stumbled in last week the teacher was drilling 
 the children in Tonic Sol-fa with a little har- 
 monium, 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 
 
6 DOMSIE 
 
 on the fourth a brake of gorse and bramble 
 bushes, through which there was an opening 
 to the road. The clearing was the play- 
 ground, 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 
 everywhere. Domsie used to say there were 
 two pleasant sights for his old eyes every day. 
 One was to stand in the open at dinner-time 
 and see the flitting 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 listen- 
 ing 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 below it, 
 with sandy hair turning to grey, and bushy 
 eye-brow covering keen, shrewd grey eyes. 
 You will notice that his linen is coarse but 
 spotless, and that, though his clothes are worn 
 
A LAD O* PAIRTS 7 
 
 almost threadbare, 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 
 realised 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 hap- 
 pened in his life, and Domsie buried himself 
 among the woods with the bairns of Drum- 
 tochty. 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 substi- 
 tution that he gave all his love to the children, 
 and nearly all his money too, helping lads to 
 college, and affording an inexhaustible store of 
 peppermints for the little ones. 
 
 Perhaps one ought to have been ashamed of 
 
8 DOMSIE 
 
 that school-house, but yet it had its own dis- 
 tinction, 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 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 to 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 copying. Now and then a class 
 came up and did some task, and at times a boy 
 got the tawse for his negligence, 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. 
 
A LAD O' PAIRTS 9 
 
 " 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 em- 
 bryo scholar did not come to birth. "Five 
 and thirty years have I been minister at Drum- 
 tochty," the Doctor used to say at school ex- 
 aminations, "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 gave the finish in 
 Greek to every lad of them, without 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 pur- 
 suits." 
 
 He had a leaning to classics and the profes- 
 
io DOMSIE 
 
 sions, but Domsie was catholic in his recogni- 
 tion of " pairts," and when the son of Hil- 
 locks' 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 res- 
 cued from ridicule and encouraged to fulfil his 
 bent. Once a year a long letter came to Mr. 
 Patrick Jamieson, M.A., Schoolmaster, Drum- 
 tochty, N.B., and the address within was the 
 British Museum. When Domsie read this 
 letter to the school, he was always careful to 
 explain that "Dr. Graham is the greatest liv- 
 ing authority on beetles," and, generally speak- 
 ing, 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 another scholar, and the whole 
 school saw the identification of George Howe. 
 For a winter Domsie had been " at point," rac- 
 ing George through Caesar, stalking him behind 
 irregular verbs, baiting traps with tit-bits of 
 
A LAD O' PAIRTS ix 
 
 Virgil. During these exercises Domsie sur- 
 veyed George from above his spectacles with a 
 hope that grew every day in assurance, 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 want- 
 in' frae the station, for there's a fell puckle 
 left." 
 
 " And it'll no be seed taties," she said, pur- 
 suing 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. 
 
13 DOMSIE 
 
 " 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 Mar- 
 get, Whinnie's wife, a tall, silent woman, with 
 a speaking 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 de- 
 serves more honour in Drumtochty, naither 
 laird nor farmer." 
 
 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." 
 
A LAD O* PAIRTS 13 
 
 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 ex- 
 tremely 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. 
 
 " 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 
 
14 DOMSIE 
 
 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 ma 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 
 he's the first scholar I've lost in Drumtochty 
 ... ye 'ill manage his keep and sic like ? " 
 
 " Nae fear o' that," for Whinnie was warm- 
 ing, "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' Drumsheugh ? " said Whin- 
 nie, " 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 
 
A LAD O' PAIRTS 15 
 
 Netherton's sister's son frae Edinboro* wes 
 preaching the missionary 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 thinking 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 character- 
 ized in language that left nothing to be de- 
 sired, 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 
 
16 DOMSIE 
 
 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 Whin- 
 nie 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 Mar- 
 tinmas a year past for ane o' yir college laddies. 
 Five punds for four years ; my word, yir no 
 blate (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 
 schoolmaster, and he knew little beyond his 
 craft, but the spirit of the Humanists awoke 
 within him, and he smote with all his might, 
 bidding goodbye to his English as one flings 
 away the scabbard of a sword. 
 
 "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 
 
A LAD O' PAIRTS 17 
 
 ye'll ever hae o' winning wealth. Gin ye store 
 the money ye hae scrapit by mony a hard bar- 
 gain, 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 — an- 
 ither 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 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 ex- 
 B 
 
18 DOMSIE 
 
 plained 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 Drumtochty." 
 
 As it was, when Domsie did depart he could 
 only grip Drumsheugh's hand, and say Mae- 
 cenas, 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 cunning. 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 ad- 
 jured 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 Domi- 
 nie, lapsing into dialect, " we daurna luik for a 
 prize. No the first year, at ony rate." 
 
 " Man, Dominie. A'm clean astonished at 
 
20 DOMSIE 
 
 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' tell ye if Geordie disna get a first 
 in every class he's entered for, the judges 'ill 
 be a puir lot," with a fine confusion of circum- 
 stances. 
 
 " Losh, Drumsheugh, be quiet, or ye'll dae 
 the laddie an injury," said Domsie, with genu- 
 ine 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, be- 
 cause this was more than mortal. 
 
 It was my luck to carry the bulletin to Dom- 
 sie, 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 in- 
 sist that it must be intended for some other 
 
HOW WE CARRIED THE NEWS 21 
 
 person. When it was finally forced Ujpon 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 Drumsheugh 
 the factor's letter, with the answer to his offer 
 for the farm, he only remarked, " It'll 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 leisurely 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 
 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 moth- 
 er, and his gratitude to his schoolmaster, but 
 Domsie heard no more. He tried to speak and 
 
22 DOMSIE 
 
 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 de- 
 sire, 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 go- 
 ing 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 shouting 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, 
 April 7th." Then he looked at Whinnie, and 
 closed his mouth. 
 
HOW WE CARRIED THE NEWS 23 
 
 " 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 00 1 o' a hundred and seeventy lads, 
 
24 DOMSIE 
 
 first o' them a', and he's first in the Greek too ; 
 the like o' this is hardly known, and it has na 
 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." 
 
 I glanced round, although I did not myself 
 see very clearly. 
 
 Marget was silent for the space of five sec- 
 onds ; 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 re- 
 ward 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 
 
HOW WE CARRIED THE NEWS 25 
 
 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 pro- 
 phesy 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. 
 
 " The first year o' Latin was enough for me. 
 He juist nippet up his verbs. Caesar could na 
 keep him going ; he wes into Virgil afore he 
 wes eleven, and the Latin prose, man, as sure 
 as a'm living, it tasted o' Cicero frae the begin- 
 ning." 
 
 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 Geordie hed been playing truant." 
 
26 DOMSIE 
 
 Whinnie laughed uproariously, but Domsie 
 heeded not. 
 
 " It was awfu' work the next twa years, but 
 the Doctor stood in weel 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 Marget, 
 " 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 advantages. Maisters frae Eng- 
 land, and tutors, and whatna', but Drumtochty 
 carried aff the croon. It'll be fine reading in 
 the papers— 
 
 Humanity. — First Prize (and Medal), George 
 Howe, Drumtochty, Perthshire* 
 
HOW WE CARRIED THE NEWS 27 
 
 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 for- 
 get him — it's his classics he hes, every book o 7 
 them. The Doctor 'ill be lifted when he 
 comes back on Saturday. A'm thinkin' we'll 
 hear o't on Sabbath. And Drumsheugh, he'll 
 be naither to had nor bind in the kirk-yard. 
 As for me, I wad na 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 
 certain of Whinnie's speculations. 
 
28 DOMSIE 
 
 When I saw him last, his coat-tails were wav- 
 ing victoriously as he leaped a dyke on his way 
 to tell our Drumtochty Maecenas that the 
 judges knew their business. 
 
A CORNER OF THE GARDEN 
 
Ill 
 
 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 un- 
 awares. 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. 
 
30 DOMSIE 
 
 " Sail she saw him slip aff the road afore the 
 last stile, and wheep roond the fit o' the gair- 
 den wa' like a tod (fox) aifter the chickens. 
 
 " • It's a het day, Maister Anderson/ says 
 Marget 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 ? p 
 
 " Wud ye believe it, he wes that upset he 
 left withoot savin* ' vote,' and Drumsheugh 
 telt me next market that his langidge aifter- 
 wards 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 her- 
 self beneath 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 Gethsemane with the gold blos- 
 soms 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 carried my shield, but it wasna to 
 be, so I've come home on it." As they went 
 
IN MARGET'S GARDEN 31 
 
 slowly up the garden walk, " I've got my de- 
 gree, a double first, mathematics and clas- 
 sics." 
 
 " Ye've been a gude soldier, George, and 
 faithfu'." 
 
 " Unto death, a'm dootin, mother." 
 
 " Na," said Marget, " unto life." 
 
 Drumtochty was not a heartening place in 
 sickness, and Marget, who did not think our 
 thoughts, endured much consolation at her 
 neighbour's hands. It is said that in cities 
 visitors congratulate a patient on his good 
 looks, and deluge his family with instances of 
 recovery. This would have seemed to us shal- 
 low and unfeeling, besides being a "temptin* 
 o' Providence," which might not have intended 
 to go to extremities, but on a challenge of this 
 kind had no alternative. Sickness was regard- 
 ed as a distinction tempered with judgment, 
 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 
 
32 DOMSIE 
 
 this indifference to privileges Peter was excep- 
 tional. 
 
 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, " aVe 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, consist- 
 ing in a certain cadence of the voice and ar- 
 rangement 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 inspection). It's sax year syne 
 noo, and he got up and wes traivellin' fell 
 hearty like yersel. But he begood 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 
 
IN MARGET'S GARDEN 33 
 
 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 
 beside the brier bush whose roses were no 
 whiter than his cheeks, Kirsty was already in- 
 stalled 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 thank- 
 fu' ye haena lost your man and five sons, be- 
 sides 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' 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 thraun 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 
 
34 DOMSIE 
 
 and scandalized Drumtochty, which held that 
 obtrusive prosperity was an irresistible provo- 
 cation to the higher powers, and that a skilful 
 depreciation 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 
 bound up in her laddie, I tell ye He is saif 
 pleased in His heaven, for mind ye boo 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 gap 
 
IN MARGET'S GARDEN 35 
 
 den and studies a' the day. He wants to be 
 ready for his kingdom, just as he trachled in 
 the bit schule o' Drumtochty for Edinboro\ I 
 hoped he wud 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 pre- 
 sumption, 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 like- 
 ness flashed upon me in that moment, the 
 
36 DOMSIE 
 
 earnest deep-set grey 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 preach- 
 ing on hell. As it grew dark a candle was 
 lighted, and I can still see his face as in a pic- 
 ture, 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 whisper- 
 ed ' No/ 
 
 "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 
 
IN MARGET'S GARDEN 37 
 
 laddie will go who does not repent and be- 
 lieve.' 
 
 " 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 time, and the moon was filling the 
 room with cold clear light. From my bed I 
 could see the stooks 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 
 
38 DOMSIE 
 
 better if I was bad, but that he wud never tor- 
 ture 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, 
 u 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, 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 
 
IN MARGET'S GARDEN 39 
 
 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. Marget was moving about the gar- 
 den, 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 gude 
 freend tae me, the best I ever hed aifter my 
 mither and faither. Wull ye tak this buik for a 
 keepsake o' yir grateful scholar? It's a Latin 
 1 Imitation,' Dominie, and it's bonnie printin*. 
 Ye mind hoo ye gave me yir ain Virgil, and 
 said he was a kind o' Pagan sanct. Noo here 
 is my sanct, and div ye ken I've often thocht 
 Virgil 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 
 
40 DOMSIE 
 
 earth, I'll read it till I die, and, George, I'll tell 
 ye what livin' man does na 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 
 
IN MARGET'S GARDEN 41 
 
 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 undertaker, chancing on a " beerial " 
 with us, had no limits to his admiration. He 
 had been disheartened to despair all his life by 
 the ghastly efforts of chirpy little Southerners 
 to look solemn on occasion, but his dreams 
 were satisfied at the sight of men like Drums- 
 heugh and Hillocks in their Sabbath 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 fig- 
 
A SCHOLAR'S FUNERAL 43 
 
 ures, each man gazing into vacancy without a 
 trace of expression, and refusing to recognise 
 his nearest neighbour by word or look. Drum- 
 tochty gave itself to a " beerial " with chastened 
 satisfaction, 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 in a merrige," explained our 
 gravedigger, in whom the serious side had been 
 perhaps abnormally developed, " for ye never 
 ken hoo it will end ; but there's nae risk about 
 a i 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 
 resisted as an " innovation." Yet every one 
 admitted that the seriousness of Drumtochty 
 pervaded 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 circumstance had escaped the notice 
 of the company, so abstracted and unconscious 
 was their manner, had it not been that two 
 
44 DOMSIE 
 
 graven images a minute later are standing at 
 the table. 
 
 " Ye 'ill taste, Tammas," with settled melan- 
 choly. 
 
 " Na, na ; Fve 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 thinkin'." 
 
 "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 im- 
 pression that he is at church. 
 
 It was George Howe's funeral that broke the 
 custom and closed the " service." When I 
 came into the garden where the neighbours 
 
A SCHOLAR'S FUNERAL 45 
 
 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 kirk- 
 yard. " Weel, yon's the last sicht o't ye 'ill 
 get, or a'm no Drumsheugh. I've nae objec- 
 tion ma'sel to a nee'bur 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 bnsh 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 keepit my eye on Posty, but he 
 
46 DOMSIE 
 
 never lookit the way it wes. He's a drouthy 
 body, but he hes his feelin's, hes Posty." 
 
 Before the Doctor began the prayer, Whin- 
 nie 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 idyll 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 (of 
 Mary against the Lords of the Congregatioa 
 
A SCHOLAR'S FUNERAL 47 
 
 followed Prince Charlie to Culloden, and were 
 High Church and Tory to the 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 
 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 Edinboro', 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 
 
48 DOMSIE 
 
 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 Sor 
 rows had fallen upon her. 
 
 11 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 High- 
 land 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. 
 
 "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 
 
A SCHOLAR'S FUNERAL 49 
 
 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 let- 
 ter than the spirit, and regarded its indiscrimi- 
 nate 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 recitation of the problem 
 of immortality from Job, with its triumphant 
 solution in the peroration of the fifteenth chap- 
 ter of 1 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 detail. 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 resented. 
 
 The Doctor made a good start, and had al- 
 ready sighted Job, when he was carried out of 
 T) 
 
50 DOMSIE 
 
 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 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 maj- 
 esty, 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 remembered 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 
 Highlanders, 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." 
 
A SCHOLAR'S FUNERAL 51 
 
 "He is a goot man, Lachlan," replied Donald 
 Menzies, another Celt, and he was our St. Fran- 
 cis, 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, pictur- 
 esque 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 grati- 
 tude, from Domsie to Posty. 
 
 " Neeburs, ye were a' his freends, and he 
 wanted ye tae ken hoo yir trust wes mickle 
 help tae him in his battle." 
 
 There was a stir within us, and it 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 Domsie as we went down 
 the cart track, with the ripe corn standing on 
 either side, but he beckoned Chalmers to walk 
 with him. 
 
52 DOMSIE 
 
 " Ye hae heard him speak o' me, then, Mais- 
 ter 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 dis- 
 ease 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 shin- 
 ing 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." 
 
 Donald Menzies was a man of moods, and 
 
A SCHOLAR'S FUNERAL 53 
 
 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 pur- 
 ple 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 
 benediction on the two figures that climbed the 
 hard ascent close after the man they loved. 
 
 Strangers do not touch our dead in Drum, 
 tochty, but the eight of nearest blood lower 
 the body into the grave. The order of prec* 
 edence is keenly calculated, and the loss of a 
 merited cord can never be forgiven. Marget 
 had arranged everything 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 ain bluid." 
 
 On the right side the cords were handed to 
 
54 DOMSIE 
 
 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, uncovered heads, and in unbroken 
 silence, we buried all that remained of our 
 scholar. 
 
 We always waited till the grave was filled 
 and the turf 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 from a tender heart, and Chal- 
 mers, who went behind 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 Chalmers home, 
 and walked all the way with him to Kildrum- 
 mie 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 gra- 
 
A SCHOLAR'S FUNERAL 55 
 
 ven where the roses bloomed fresh every sum. 
 mer for twenty years till Marget was laid with 
 her son : 
 
 George Howe, M.A., 
 
 Died September 22nd, 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 be- 
 hind 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 trans- 
 figuration of Donald Menzies, which used to 
 begin about the middle of the " action" sermon, 
 and was completed at the singing of the last 
 Psalm. Once there was no glory, because the 
 minister, being still young, expounded a new 
 theory of the atonement of German manufac- 
 ture, 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. 
 
60 A HIGHLAND MYSTIC 
 
 "We hef had the open vision," Donald ex- 
 plained to his friend Lachlan Campbell, who 
 distributed the responsibility in another fash- 
 ion, " and we would not see — so the veil hass 
 fallen." 
 
 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 hope- 
 lessness. 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. 
 
WHAT EYE HATH NOT SEEN 61 
 
 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 sun- 
 light through the swaying branches of an old 
 plane tree. But Donald has seen his Lord 
 hanging upon the Cross 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, 
 
62 A HIGHLAND MYSTIC 
 
 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 recog- 
 nized limits, and was always opened by Burn- 
 brae, who had come out in '43, and was under- 
 stood to have read the Confession 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, 
 Burnbrae did his best by the minister up stairs, 
 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." 
 
 Or at the worst, when Burnbrae's courage 
 had Failed: 
 
WHAT EYE HATH NOT SEEN 6$ 
 
 " 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 
 wonderful 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 
 yesterday, and I never went forrit withoot ma 
 Saiturday yet, and I'm no to begin noo/ " 
 
64 A HIGHLAND MYSTIC 
 
 " 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 reminded one of the parish of Drum- 
 tochty, being both quoad sacra and quoad 
 civilia. 
 
 When the Highlanders came in, B umbrae 
 was deposed after one encounter, and the min- 
 ister was reduced to a state of timid sugges- 
 tion. There were days when they would not 
 speak 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 bot- 
 tle 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. 
 
 u It wes a mercy the mune changed last 
 
WHAT EYE HATH NOT SEEN 65 
 
 week, Maister Menzies, or a'm thinkin' it hed 
 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 any- 
 thing 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 con- 
 versation on the weather languished. 
 
 Perhaps the minister fared worse in an at- 
 tempt to extract a certificate of efficiency from 
 Lachlan Campbell in favour of a rhetorical 
 young preacher. 
 
 " A fery nice speaker, and well pleased with 
 himself. But I would be thinking, when he 
 wass giving 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 peautiful. It wass a great peety 
 he had no hook, for it iss a want, and you do 
 E 
 
66 A HIGHLAND MYSTIC 
 
 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 Burn- 
 brae will be told while an elder lives. One of 
 the last of the old mystical school, which trace 
 their descent from Samuel Rutherford, had de- 
 scribed the great mystery of our Faith with 
 such insight and pathos, that Donald had stood 
 by the table weeping gently, and found him- 
 self 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 hear- 
 ing the like o* yon at the tables ; but I wes 
 sorry to see the Doctor sae failed. He wes 
 bent twa fad ; a' doot it's a titch o' rheuma- 
 tism, 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 
 discernment? Did ye not see that he was 
 
WHAT EYE HATH NOT SEEN 67 
 
 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 stations ; but 
 there iss 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 ser- 
 mon, but all hold as a treasure for ever 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 Reve- 
 lation, and after each pair he cried with heart- 
 piercing voice, " Choose this day which ye will 
 take," till Donald could contain himself no 
 longer. 
 
 " Here iss the man who hass deserved all the 
 
68 A HIGHLAND MYSTIC 
 
 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 situa- 
 tion. The preacher paused for five seconds, 
 while no man could breathe, and then lifting 
 up his hand to Heaven he said, with an inde- 
 scribable authority and tenderness, " The Lord 
 fulfil the desire of your heart both in this 
 world and in that which is to come." 
 
 Then the congregation sang, after the an- 
 cient 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 win- 
 dow the angels of God ascending and descend- 
 ing 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 try- 
 ing for the same period to have the minister 
 removed from Drumtochty. Donald, deprived 
 by one stroke of both his friends, fell back on 
 
WHAT EYE HATH NOT SEEN 69 
 
 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 
 within 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 siekness and 
 my farm, and I said nothing. For I wass hop- 
 ing 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 
 
7© A HIGHLAND MYSTIC 
 
 cart, and take me to Aberfeldy.' ■ And what 
 will ye be doing at Aberfeldy ? and you will 
 die on the road.' '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, 
 1 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, 
 * Loose him and let him go.' 
 
 " As he preached I knew I wass Lazurus, 
 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 iss 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 
 
WHAT EYE HATH NOT SEEN 71 
 
 Covenant, and this shall be a sign unto that 
 man, u 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 sweep- 
 ing over the Loch, but this wass 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 
 depression. Within the first he bewailed his 
 inveterate attachment to this world, and his 
 absolute indifference to spiritual things, and 
 was content to describe himself as Achan. 
 The sign that he had entered the second was 
 a recurring reference to apostacy, and then you 
 had the melancholy satisfaction of meeting the 
 living representative of Simon Peter. When 
 he passed into the last zone of the Purgatorio, 
 Donald was beyond speech, and simply allow- 
 
PRINCIPALITIES AND POWERS 73 
 
 ed 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 
 concerned, but Judas Iscariot meant that Don- 
 ald had entered the Valley of the Shadow. 
 
 He made a spirited rally at the Winter Sac- 
 rament, and distinguished himself greatly on 
 the evening of the Fast day. Being asked to 
 pray, as a recognition of comparative cheerful- 
 ness, Donald continued for five and twenty 
 minutes, and unfolded the works of the Devil 
 in such minute and vivid detail that Burnbrae 
 talks about it to this day, and Lachlan Camp- 
 bell, although an expert in this department, 
 confessed astonishment. It was a mighty 
 wrestle, and it was perhaps natural that Don- 
 ald should groan heavily at regular intervals, 
 and acquaint the meeting how the conflict 
 went, but the younger people were much shak- 
 en, 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 
 
74 A HIGHLAND MYSTIC 
 
 a hurried consultation in the vestry, and Burn* 
 brae put the position with admirable force. 
 
 " Naebody can deny that it wes a maist ex- 
 traordinary 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 discomposing and when he said, kind o* 
 confidential, ' He's losing his grup/ ma ain 
 fouk cudna keep their coontenance. 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 aifter- 
 wards what wes gaein' on, maybe in the Ses- 
 sion." 
 
 Lachlan accepted his commission with quite 
 unusual diffidence, and offered a very free 
 translation 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 
 
PRINCIPALITIES AND POWERS 75 
 
 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 hass trampled Satan under 
 foot/ Oh yes, and fery glad men they were, 
 for it iss not given to them. But I would be 
 thinking 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 ? " re- 
 torted Donald, stung by this unexpected criti- 
 cism. "And what iss wrong with groaning? 
 But I hef the Scripture, and I will not be car- 
 ing 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 remembering that passage." 
 
 " Maybe you hef not read ' Maketh inter- 
 cession with groanings,' but it iss a fery good 
 Scripture, and it iss in my Bible." 
 
 "All Scripture iss good, Donald Menzies, 
 
76 A HIGHLAND MYSTIC 
 
 but it iss not lawful to divide Scripture, and it 
 will read in my Bible, * groanings which cannot 
 be uttered/ and I wass saying this would be 
 the best way with your groans." 
 
 Donald came in to tell me how his com- 
 panion 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 Drum- 
 tochty mind was at times hopelessly per- 
 plexed. 
 
 " He's a gude cratur and terrible gifted in 
 prayer," Netherton explained to Burnbrae after 
 a prayer-meeting, when Donald had tempo- 
 rarily abandoned Satan and given himself to 
 autobiography, " but yon wesna a verra ceevil 
 way to speak aboot his faither and mither." 
 
 " A' doot yir imagining 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 
 
PRINCIPALITIES AND POWERS 77 
 
 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 Don- 
 ald'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 feegurative capaucity ? " 
 
 " Feegurative or no feegurative, Burnbrae, it 
 disna maitter ; it's a peetifu' job howking 
 (digging) thro' the Bible for ill words tae misca 
 yir fouk wi' 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 consider- 
 ed that it was safer not to meddle with certain 
 
78 A HIGHLAND MYSTIC 
 
 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 any one 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 (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 wass thinking on the 
 shepherd and the sheep, and Satan will come 
 out from the wood below Hillocks' farm-house 
 (' Gude preserve us,' 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, 
 
PRINCIPALITIES AND POWERS 79 
 
 oh no, and I did not follow him into the 
 wood." 
 
 The smith, released 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 har- 
 rows, and the blades of scythes, and the cruel 
 knives of reaping machines, and from instru- 
 ments with triple prongs ; and lighting up with 
 a hideous glare the black sooty recesses of the 
 smithy. 
 
 "Keep's a*," whispered Hiilocks, 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 artic- 
 ulate, 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 
 
8o A HIGHLAND MYSTIC 
 
 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 Sab- 
 bath the word wass taken altogether from the 
 minister's mouth, and he spake a language 
 which we understood not [it was the first of 
 three sermons on the Hexateuch, and had 
 treated of the Jehovistic and Elohistic docu- 
 ments with much learning], and I will be ask- 
 ing 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 iss no star, and you will be remember- 
 
PRINCIPALITIES AND POWERS Si 
 
 ing what John saw when the door opened and 
 Judas went out. l 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, 
 although there was no help in me, I went to 
 ask how it fared with him. After the footpath 
 disentangled itself from the pine woods and 
 crossed the burn by two fir trees nailed to- 
 gether, 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. 
 
 " 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 
 
82 A HIGHLAND MYSTIC 
 
 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 good 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 wass 
 tearing them away as quick as I could speak, 
 and he always said, ' his own place.' 
 
 " ■ There iss no hope for me,' I cried, ■ but it 
 
PRINCIPALITIES AND POWERS 83 
 
 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 Bound 
 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 
 
84 A HIGHLAND MYSTIC 
 
 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. 
 ***** 
 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, and 
 on reaching home I marked that the early 
 roses were beginning to bloom over the door 
 through which Donald had gone out into the 
 darkness. 
 
HIS MOTHER'S SERMON 
 
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 THE MINISTER IN THE MANSE GARDEN 
 
HIS MOTHER'S SERMON 
 
 He was an ingenuous lad, with the callow 
 simplicity of a theological college still un- 
 touched, and had arrived on the preceding 
 Monday at the Free Kirk manse with four cart- 
 loads of furniture and a maiden aunt. For 
 three days he roamed from room to room in 
 the excitement of householding, and made sug- 
 gestions 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 careful and say nothing rash, but it 
 was due to himself to state the present position 
 
&S HIS MOTHER'S SERMON 
 
 of theological thought, and he might have to 
 quote once or twice from Ewald. 
 
 His aunt was a saint, with that firm grasp of 
 truth, and tender mysticism, whose combina- 
 tion is the charm of Scottish piety, and her 
 face was troubled. While the minister was 
 speaking in his 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 
 fatherless, 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 
 beside 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 
 
HIS MOTHER'S SERMON 89 
 
 when I'll no pray for ye, and I'll ken better 
 what to ask than I did here, sae dinna be com- 
 fortless." 
 
 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 gude 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 tightened on his head. 
 
 But he could not speak, and her voice was 
 failing fast. 
 
 " I canna see ye noo, John, but I know yir 
 there, 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." 
 
9 o HIS MOTHER'S SERMON 
 
 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 pass- 
 eth all 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 minis- 
 ter 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'll no come round me 
 with yir flattery. I ken ye ower weel," and as 
 
HIS MOTHER'S SERMON 91 
 
 she caught the likeness in his face, her eyes 
 filled suddenly. 
 
 " What's the matter, auntie ? Will ye no 
 tell me?" 
 
 "Dinna be angry wi' me, John, but a'm 
 concerned aboot Sabbath, for a've been pray- 
 ing 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 follows Christ will never 
 lose his way in ony thicket. But it's the 
 fouk, John, a'm anxious aboot, the flock o' 
 
92 HIS MOTHER'S SERMON 
 
 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 tempta- 
 tion, an* a* sair trachled wi' mony cares o' this 
 world. They 'ill need a clear word tae com- 
 fort their herts and show them the way ever- 
 lasting. Ye 'ill say what's richt, nae doot o* 
 that, and a'body 'ill be pleased wi' ye, but, oh, 
 laddie, be sure ye say a gude word for Jesus 
 Christ." 
 
 The minister's face whitened, and his arm 
 relaxed. He rose hastily and went to the door, 
 but in going out he gave his aunt an under- 
 standing look, such as passes between people 
 who have stood together in a sorrow. The son 
 had not forgotten his mother's request. 
 
 The manse garden lies toward the west, and 
 as the minister paced its little square of turf, 
 sheltered by fir hedges, the sun was going 
 down behind the Grampians. Black massy 
 clouds had begun to gather in the evening, 
 
HIS MOTHER'S SERMON 93 
 
 and threatened to obscure the sunset, which 
 was the finest sight a Drumtochty 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 be- 
 tween piled billows of light he went along a 
 shining pathway 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 imagi- 
 nation of man. It seemed to him as if a vic- 
 torious saint had entered through the gates in- 
 to 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 sun- 
 set 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 
 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 minis- 
 
94 HIS MOTHER'S SERMON 
 
 ter 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 curtains 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 win- 
 dow, 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 care- 
 
HIS MOTHER'S SERMON 95 
 
 worn, 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 
 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 disappear. 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 
 production 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. 
 
96 HIS MOTHER'S SERMON 
 
 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 remembered 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." 
 
 " How did ye know ? " 
 
 But she only smiled, " I heard you pray." 
 
 When he shut himself into the study that 
 Saturday 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 gar- 
 den 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 
 
HIS MOTHER'S SERMON 97 
 
 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 un- 
 derstood 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 be- 
 tween 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 for- 
 gotten 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 lad- 
 die's neck." 
 
 When she had given the last touch, and he 
 G 
 
98 HIS MOTHER'S SERMON 
 
 was ready to go, a sudden seriousness fell upon 
 them. 
 
 " Kiss me, auntie." 
 
 " For your mother, and her God be with 
 you," and then he went through the garden 
 and underneath the honeysuckle and into the 
 kirk, where every Free Churchman in Drum- 
 tochty 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 up- 
 on my travels, and in my time have seen many 
 religious functions. I have been in Mr. Spur- 
 geon'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 oi 
 Drumtochty. 
 
HIS MOTHER'S SERMON 99 
 
 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 wit- 
 nesses. No Scottish man can ever sing, 
 
 " God of our fathers, be the God 
 Of their succeeding race," 
 
 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 conclud- 
 ed the Lord's prayer hurriedly, having omitted 
 two petitions. But we knew it was not ner- 
 vousness which made him pause for ten sec- 
 onds after praying for widows and orphans, 
 and in the silence which fell upon us the Di- 
 vine Spirit had free access. His youth com- 
 mended him, since he was also modest, for 
 
ioo HIS MOTHER'S SERMON 
 
 every mother had come with an inartif ulate 
 prayer that the " puir laddie wud dae wcel on 
 his first day, and him only twenty-four." Texts 
 I can never remember, 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 stretch- 
 ing out His hands to old folk and little chil- 
 dren 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." 
 
 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 
 
HIS MOTHER'S SERMON 101 
 
 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 
 grey 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 min- 
 ister'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, 
 " The friend of the bridegroom rejoiced greatly 
 because of the bridegroom's voice." 
 
io2 HIS MOTHER'S SERMON 
 
 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 nearly a year syne. 
 When ye preached the Evangel 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 ever 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 re- 
 gret. 
 
 " Oh, auntie, if she had only been spared to 
 see this day, and her prayers answered." 
 
 But his aunt flung her arms round his neck. 
 
 "Dinna be cast doon, laddie, nor be unbe- 
 lievin'. 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 
 
A GRAND INQUISITOR 
 
 The Free Kirk of Drumtochty had no gal- 
 lery, but a section of seats at the back was 
 raised two feet, and any one _n 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 
 constituted 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 
 
106 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 judgment, and his deliverances were for the 
 most part in parables, none the less awful be- 
 cause hard of interpretation. Like every true 
 Celt, he had the power of reserve, and knew 
 the value of mystery. His voice must not be 
 heard in irresponsible gossip at the Kirk door, 
 and he never condescended to the level of Mrs. 
 MacFadyen, our recognised sermon taster, who 
 criticised everything in the technique 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 grey 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 ir- 
 resistible suggestion of a Skye terrier, the most 
 serious of animals, with the hair reduced, and 
 
A GRAND INQUISITOR 107 
 
 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 an- 
 cient 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 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 Abound- 
 ing," or Owen's " 130th Psalm," while the col- 
 lies slept at his feet, and Flora put the finishing 
 stroke to some bit of rustic finery. Worship 
 was always coloured by the evening'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 
 
108 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 was not concerned about learning, and fluency 
 he regarded with disgust. When a young min- 
 ister from Muirtown stamped twice in his 
 prayer at the Drumtochty Fast, and preached 
 with great eloquence from the words, "And 
 there was no more sea," repeating the text at 
 the end of each paragraph, and concluding the 
 sermon with " Lord Ullin's Daughter," the at- 
 mosphere 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 ex- 
 plained the principle on which they elected 
 ministers at Auchindarroch, which was his 
 standard 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.' 
 
 "Angus wassone 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 iss coming, and seven is a goot number.' 
 
IN A FIR WOOD PRAYING 
 
A GRAND INQUISITOR 109 
 
 " 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 be- 
 fore 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 Sab- 
 bath,* 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 min- 
 ister he wass, and made the hypocrites in Zion 
 to be afraid." 
 
 Lachlan dealt tenderly with our young Free 
 
no LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 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 days a 
 storm of wind and rain had been stripping the 
 leaves from the trees 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. Dur- 
 ing 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 he^d on high, the despair of yester- 
 day vanished. The wind had ceased, and the 
 
A GRAND INQUISITOR m 
 
 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 hu- 
 man sympathy each little homestead 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 eye fell on the great wood through 
 which he 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 
 
ii2 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 it was his turn to pass the box to Burn- 
 brae. 
 
 The minister returned to his study in a fine 
 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 
 thinking that trees and leaves and stubble 
 fields will save our souls, and I did not hear 
 about sin and repentance and the work of 
 
A GRAND INQUISITOR 113 
 
 Christ. It iss sound doctrine that we need, 
 and a great peety you are not giving it." 
 
 The minister had been made much of in col- 
 lege 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 Lach- 
 lan 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 to- 
 gether ; they prayed apart. 
 
 Lachlan was careful to say nothing, but the 
 congregation felt that his hand was against the 
 minister, and Burnbrae took him to task. 
 
 " Ye maunna be ower hard on him, Maister 
 H 
 
H4 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 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 
 thinking 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." 
 
 " Nae doot, nae doot, but I canna see ony- 
 thing wrang in his doctrine ; it wudna be rea- 
 sonable 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 taks 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 Car- 
 michael does not love Christ, for I hef seen the 
 Lord in his sermons like a face through a lat- 
 tice. 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." 
 
A GRAND INQUISITOR 115 
 
 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 conscience. He used to come over 
 to the Cottage for a ramble through my books, 
 and one evening he told me that he had pre- 
 pared 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 herditary 
 notions. Why could he not read this subject 
 for his own pleasure, and teach it quietly in 
 classes? Why give himself away in the pul- 
 pit ? This worldly counsel brought the minis- 
 ter to a white heat, and he rose to his feet. 
 Had he not been ordained to feed his people 
 with truth, and was he not bound to tell them 
 
n6 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 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 arise afterwards 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 hon- 
 est country folk a mass of immature and undi- 
 gested details about the Bible, and they were 
 listening with wearied, perplexed faces. Lach- 
 lan 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. Car- 
 michael looked thin and nervous in the pulpit, 
 
A GRAND INQUISITOR 117 
 
 and it came to me that if new views are to 
 be preached to old-fashioned people it ought not 
 to be by lads who are always heady and intoler- 
 ant, 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 Car- 
 michael 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 
 
n8 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 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 dune 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 controversy with Lachlan. 
 
 Marget lifted her head as one who had heard 
 of some brave deed, and there was a ring in 
 her voice. 
 
 "It maks 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 peetifu' 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. 
 
 M A've often thocht that in the auld days 
 
A GRAND INQUISITOR 119 
 
 baith the man on the rack and the inqueesitor 
 himself micht 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 nutri- 
 ment in it; then there's the corn lying in the 
 ear, which is the Evangel frae Eden tae 
 Revelation, and that is the bread V 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) 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 
 
120 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 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 
 misunderstands that luves, and the fouk all 
 luve ye, and the man that hauds ye dearest 
 is Lachlan Campbell. I saw the look in his 
 een that canna be mista'en." 
 
 " I'll go to him this very day," and the min» 
 ister 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 
 
A GRAND INQUISITOR 121 
 
 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 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 
 
122 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 Lachlan was of the pure Highland breed, kind- 
 est 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 forgive- 
 ness, 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." 
 
 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 
 amazement — it was the night before she left 
 
A GRAND INQUISITOR 123 
 
 her home — the thirteenth chapter of 1 Corinth- 
 ians, and twice he repeated to himself, " Now 
 we see through a glass darkly, but then face to 
 face." 
 
II 
 
 HIS BITTER SHAME 
 
 The Free Kirk people were very proud of 
 their vestry because the Established Church 
 had none, and because it was reasonably sup- 
 posed to be the smallest in Scotland. When 
 the minister, who touched five feet eleven, and 
 the beadle, who was three inches taller, assem- 
 bled for the procession, with the precentor, a 
 man of fair proportions, there was no waste 
 ground in that room, and any messenger from 
 the church door had to be selected with judg- 
 ment. " 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 bonnie bit room, but three fouk stannin' 
 maks it contrakit for another man." 
 
HIS BITTER SHAME 125 
 
 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 pro- 
 ceedings to the level of history. Lockers on 
 either side of the mantelpiece contained the 
 church library, which abounded in the lives of 
 Scottish worthies, and was never lightly dis- 
 turbed. 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 tem- 
 perature 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 
 
126 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 elimination 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 discovered 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, Modera- 
 tor, and ye can begin business as sune as ye 
 like." 
 
 As there were only six elders they could sit 
 in state, besides leaving a vacant space for any 
 penitents who came to confess their sins and 
 receive absolution, or some catechumen who 
 wished to be admitted to the sacrament. Car- 
 michael used to say that a meeting of Session 
 
HIS BITTER SHAME 127 
 
 affected his imagination, and would have made 
 an interior for Rembrandt. On one side of 
 the table sat the men who represented the 
 piety of the district, and were supposed 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 dread- 
 ed spiritual court, and hoped within her heart 
 that no elder would ask her " effectual calling" 
 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, tear- 
 ful face of the girl and the hard, weather-beat- 
 en 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 godliness, and they bore them- 
 selves 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 Sham- 
 mai, whose rule was inflexible justice, and its 
 Rabbi was Lachlan Campbell. Burnbrae was 
 
128 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 a big-hearted man, with a fatherly manner, and 
 had a genius for dealing with " young communi- 
 cants." 
 
 " 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'll no be easy to speir (ask) the like o' 
 you questions, but ye mind Abraham, Jessie." 
 
 "Ou ay," 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' see, but it's no 
 possible ye cud tell us the names o' Jacob's 
 sons; it's maybe no fair tae ask sic 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. 
 
HIS BITTER SHAME 129 
 
 " It's nae use trying to stick Jessie wi' the 
 Bible, neeburs ; 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 mistaks, are ye ? " 
 
 Yes, she was, and dared him to come on, for 
 Jessie has forgotten the minister and all the 
 Session. 
 
 " The elders wud like tae hear ' What is the 
 Lord's Supper?' " 
 
 "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 Mais- 
 ter." 
 
 " A'll 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. 
 I 
 
130 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 " 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 
 threatening 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 hef 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- 
 teefy, and that's the fifth, for there's no a bet- 
 ter dochter in Drumtochty. A' move, Moder- 
 ator, 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 
 
THE VILLAGE SHOP 
 
HIS BITTER SHAME 131 
 
 gone away comforted. " And it iss a goot 
 mark, oh yes, and very searching. 
 
 " Ye Will maybe not know what it iss, Mod- 
 erator," 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, be- 
 ing all douce Scotchmen, except Donald Men- 
 zies 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 
 subject, " oh yes, far deeper, and I heard of it 
 when I wass North for the sheep, and I will 
 not be forgetting that day with Janet Mac- 
 farlane. 
 
 " I knew she wass a professor, and I wass 
 looking 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. 
 
i 3 2 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 " ' Janet/ I said, * hef ye had many doubts f 
 
 " ' Doubts, Lachlan ? was that what you 
 asked ? I hef had desertions, and one will be 
 for six months/ 
 
 " 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. Burn- 
 brae 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 
 
HIS BITTER SHAME 133 
 
 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 recovered 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 ex- 
 terior. 
 
 " Moderator, this is a terrible calamity that 
 hes befaen oor brither, and a'm feelin' as if a* 
 hed lost a bairn o' my ane, for a sweeter lassie 
 didna cross oor kirk door. Nane o* us want 
 tae know what hes 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, Moder- 
 ator, that her case be left tae her faither and 
 yersel, and oor neebur may depend on it that 
 Flora's name and his ain will be mentioned in 
 
134 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 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 plenteous 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, Lach- 
 lan, we are 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 me, for you will not be 
 troubled any more by my dancing or dressing. 
 Do not think that I will 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 
 
HIS BITTER SHAME 135 
 
 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 win- 
 ter 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 un- 
 worthy daughter, FLORA CAMPBELL." 
 
 " This is a fiery trial, Lachlan, and I cannot 
 even imagine what you are suffering. But do 
 not despair, for that is not the letter of a bad 
 girl. Perhaps 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 
 
136 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 you all, but you do not understand. Oh no, 
 you do not understand." Lachlan caught 
 hold of a chair and looked the minister in the 
 face. 
 
 " 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 con- 
 fusion in Israel and in an elder's house, and 
 I .... I hef no danghter. But I loved her ; 
 she nefer knew how I loved her, 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 moon- 
 light till he disappeared into the forsaken 
 home, where the fire had gone out on the 
 hearth, and neither love nor hope were waiting 
 for a broken heart. 
 
 The railway did not think it worth while to 
 come to Drumtochty, and we were cut off from 
 
HIS BITTER SHAME 137 
 
 the lowlands by miles of forest, so our manners 
 retained the fashion of the former age. Six 
 elders, besides the minister, knew the tragedy 
 of Flora Campbell, and never opened their lips. 
 Mrs. Macfadyen, 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 per- 
 fect good manners in Belgravia, and they were 
 silent. My Drumtochty neighbours would 
 have played an awkward part in a drawing- 
 room, but never have I seen in all my wander- 
 ings men and women of truer courtesy or 
 tenderer heart. 
 
 " It gars ma hert greet tae see him," Mrs. 
 Macfadyen said to me one day, " sae booed an' 
 disjackit, 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 sunest mended. It's no richt tae 
 
138 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 interfere wi' another'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 'ill no be lang wi's. He's 
 sayin' naethin', and a' respeck him for't ; but 
 onybody can see that his hert is breal^in'." 
 
 We were helpless till Marget Howe met 
 Lachlan 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 man 
 githerin' his bit things wi' a shakin' hand, and 
 speakin' tae me aboot the weather, and a' 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 
 Lachlan's cottage, she found Flora's plants laid 
 out in the sun, and her father watering them 
 
HIS BITTER SHAME 139 
 
 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 
 kirkyard ; 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 
 
i 4 o LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 sight, and perhaps she could hardly make al- 
 lowance 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 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. Waes 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 Phari- 
 see, for Mary was nae kin tae him. Puir 
 Flora, tae hae sic a father." 
 
 " Who will be telling you that I wass a 
 Pharisee?" 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 
 forgotten her. 
 
HIS BITTER SHAME 141 
 
 " She hass the word, and God will hef smit> 
 ten 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 Lach- 
 lan yet, and she wrote this letter : 
 
 " My Dear Lassie, — Ye ken that I wes aye 
 yir freend, and I am writing 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 
 
i 4 2 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 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 
 Lachlan 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 
 Marget, 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 lamp that was kept for show, and had never 
 been used. Then he selected from his books 
 Edwards' " Sinners in the Hands of an angry 
 
GATHERING FLOWERS IN A PINE WOOD 
 
HIS BITTER SHAME. 143 
 
 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. 
 
Ill 
 
 LIKE AS A FATHER 
 
 It was only by physical force and a free use 
 of personalities that the Kildrummie passen- 
 gers 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 facto- 
 tum of the little Kildrummie branch, drove his 
 way through their midst with offensive pieces 
 of luggage, and abused them by name without 
 respect of persons. 
 
 " It's maist aggravating Drumsheugh, 'at ye 
 'ill 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 in- 
 tae yer kerridge ; he 'ill no be fat that buys 
 frae you, a'll wager." 
 
LIKE AS A FATHER 145 
 
 " Peter's in an awfu' feery-farry (excite- 
 ment) the nicht, neeburs," Drumsheugh would 
 respond, after a long pause ; " ye wud 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 settles himself in his seat, 
 " or else there wud be nae leevin' wi' him." 
 
 Peter escaped this winged shaft, for he had 
 detected 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 Drum- 
 tochty 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 foot- 
 
i 4 6 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 board, collecting tickets and identifying pas- 
 sengers. 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 Drumsheugh's withering sar- 
 casm to heart, for he attached himself to the 
 second that night, and was invisible to the ex- 
 pectant 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 wud 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." 
 
 Peter hurried up to his cottage in such 
 hot haste that his wife came out in great 
 alarm. 
 
 " Na, their's naethin* wrang ; it's the oppo- 
 site way this nicht. Ye mind o' Flora Cammil 
 that left her father, and name o' the Drum- 
 tochty 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 
 
LIKE AS A FATHER 147 
 
 the best in the hoose, for oors 'ill be the first 
 roof she 'ill be under on her way name." 
 
 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' this rael kind o' ye, Miss Cam- 
 mil, tae come in withoot 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 for ever, 
 and on this great event he continued without 
 intermission till he parted with Flora on the 
 edge of the pine woods that divided Drum- 
 tochty 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 passing, though a'm feared 
 ye've been deived (deafened) wi' the en- 
 gine." 
 
 Flora took Peter's hand, that was callous and 
 
148 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 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, 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 ker- 
 ridge 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 Septem- 
 ber, where you breathe the healing resinous air, 
 and the ground is crisp and springy beneath 
 your feet, and gentle animals 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 
 
LIKE AS A FATHER 149 
 
 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 con- 
 science omens of judgment. Had it not been 
 for the kindness of Peter Bruce, which was a 
 pledge of human forgiveness, 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; half way up the glen the 
 clachan lay surrounded by patches of 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 every one she 
 knew was dead, and she was forgotten in her 
 
ISO LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 misery. Her heart grew cold, and she longed 
 to lie down and die, when she caught the 
 gleam of a lighted window. Some one 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. 
 
 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 
 
LIKE AS A FATHER 151 
 
 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 de- 
 parted, and she was not able to knock. But 
 there was no need, for the dogs, 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." 
 
 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 peety you hef not the Gaelic," 
 
152 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 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." 
 
 Lachlan was so carried with joy, and fire- 
 light is so hopeful, that he had not seen the 
 signs of sore sickness on Flora's face, but the 
 morning light undeceived him, and he was sad- 
 ly 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 ser- 
 vant'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 
 
LIKE AS A FATHER 153 
 
 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 woful pretence that 
 she was not ill. 
 
 " Weel, Flora, ye've got back frae yir veesits, 
 and a' tell ye we've a' 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." 
 
 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 imaginm* 
 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- 
 
154 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 tochty, their freends tak tae propheseein 1 
 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, an' 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 Grampians. 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 or- 
 gans o' the body, a puff o' Drumtochty air 
 wud bring back a man frae the gates o' deith." 
 
 "You hef made two hearts glad this day, 
 
LIKE AS A FATHER 155 
 
 Doctor McLure," 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 his- 
 tory 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 consid- 
 ering 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 muirfowl 
 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 
 
156 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 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 windows the people 
 were all sitting round the table, but there wass 
 no place for me. Millions and millions of peo- 
 ple, 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 considering, 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 walk- 
 ing 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 
 
ABOVE NINETY 
 
LIKE AS A FATHER 157 
 
 planted, and the lamb coming for her mik, and 
 I heard myself singing, and I awoke. But 
 there wass singing, oh yes, and beautiful too, 
 for the dark church wass 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 — 
 
 M * 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/ Sometimes 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 
 1 yes' in my heart. And then he will go on, 
 * If a shepherd wass counting 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 
 
158 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 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 alone 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 
 1 Father,' but I could not go back, and I knew 
 not what to do. But this wass ever 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 wass 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 very 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 the night, and see me 
 off at Muirtown, and this iss what he will say 
 
LIKE AS A FATHER 159 
 
 as the train wass leaving, in his cheery English 
 way, ' 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 sing- 
 ing a psalm to keep up my heart, and I will 
 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, Marget ;" and Flora 
 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 new-comer, and for some time looked into 
 the far distance when his name was mentioned. 
 He himself was struck with the studied indiffer- 
 ence 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 keen- 
 est 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 suddenly 
 crystallized in the kirkyard, and there is only 
 
AS A LITTLE CHILD 161 
 
 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 theol- 
 ogy 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, but a' canna thole (bear) himsel'. Ye 
 wud think there was nae releegion in the parish 
 till he came frae Auchindarroch. What say ye, 
 Domsie? " 
 
 "Campbell's a censorious body, Drums- 
 heugh," and Domsie shut his snuff-box lid 
 with a snap. 
 
 Drumsheugh nodded to the fathers of our 
 commonwealth, and they went into kirk with 
 silent satisfaction. Lachlan had been classified, 
 and Peter Bruce, who prided himself on keep- 
 ing in touch with Drumtochty, passed the word 
 
 round the Kildrummie train next market night. 
 L 
 
i62 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 "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 Drum- 
 tochty 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 extraor- 
 dinar," Hillocks explained, " and he whuppit by 
 me like a three year auld laist Sabbath. 
 
 " ' I'm glad 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 kind o' warmth aboot him ye 
 canna get ower." 
 
 Next day I turned into Mrs. Macfadyen's 
 cottage for a cup of tea and the smack of that 
 wise woman's conversation, but was not able to 
 
AS A LITTLE CHILD 163 
 
 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 explain- 
 ing 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. Mac- 
 fadyen 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 ? ' 
 
164 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 " It was nichtfa' afore she got over 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 conter 
 the elder. 
 
 " 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 Lachlan wes callin' Elsie his bonnie 
 dawtie. 
 
 " If he hadna a pock o' peppermints — but it 
 wesna that wiled Elsie's hert. Na, na, dogs 
 and bairns can read fouks' faces, and mak nae 
 mistakes. 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 
 
AS A LITTLE CHILD 165 
 
 what father meant, and the heart wes wiz- 
 ened in the breist o' him wi' pride an' diveen- 
 ity. 
 
 " 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 wes 
 Flora he was 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 
 morning, 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 o' the Gude Samaritan, 
 fouks," and everybody understood that Lachlan 
 had captured Domsie for life. 
 
166 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 " 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 'ill lay aff stories aboot battles and 
 fairies, till the laddies 'ill hardly gae hame. I 
 wes tellin' Marget this verra mornin', and she 
 says, l 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 Lach- 
 lan afresh, and felt the responsibility lay on 
 Domsie, who accepted it cheerfully. 
 
 " Marget's aye richt, neebours, and she's put 
 the word on it noo. His tribble hes melted 
 Lachlan's heart, an' — it's in the Evangel, ye 
 ken — he's become as a little child." 
 
 This language was too figurative and impos- 
 ing 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 
 
AS A LITTLE CHILD 167 
 
 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 arrested on the step by the sound of 
 Lachlan's voice in family worship. 
 
 " 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 chap- 
 ter, 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 iss 
 father. . . . And now you will be singing a 
 psalm." 
 
168 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 " 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 
 remembering 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, 
 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 
 trying that hime on the hill, and it will sing 
 beautiful to a Psalm tune. You will lie still 
 and hear." 
 
AS A LITTLE CHILD 169 
 
 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. 
 
170 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 " What for are ye cockering up this lassie, 
 and no getting her doon tae the kirk ? it's clean 
 disgracefu' in an Elder, and if I were yir minis- 
 ter a* 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 
 Sabbath, 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 announced 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?" 
 
AS A LITTLE CHILD 171 
 
 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 
 coming 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 unspeak- 
 able pride a jacket lined with flannel and 
 trimmed with fur. 
 
 So her father and Marget dressed Flora for 
 the 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 
 
172 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 Mistress Hoo 'ill hap ye round, for we maunna 
 let ye come tae 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 presence o' the angels." 
 
 " Flora Cammil's in the kirk the day," and 
 the precentor looked at Carmichael with ex- 
 pectation. " The fouk are terrible taen up wf 
 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 'ill be lookin' for Coleshill." 
 
 Lachlan had put Flora in his old place next 
 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 per. 
 
AS A LITTLE CHILD 173 
 
 feet, and no one turned his head by one inch • 
 but Marget Howe, sitting behind in Burnbrae's 
 pew, saw Flora's hand go out to Lachlan's as 
 the people sang : 
 
 u 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* see it wudna be fit for the like o' me tae 
 gae forrit, but a* had set ma hert on't ; it wes 
 the last thing He askit o' His freends," and she 
 left before any one could bid her stay. 
 
 " 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 war- 
 rant like love. And there iss something that I 
 must be asking of the elders, and it iss to for- 
 give me for my pride in this Session. I wass 
 
174 LACHLAN CAMPBELL 
 
 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 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 puir and 
 sinfu' bairns, wha wearied o' hame and gaed 
 awa' intae 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 
 gude Brither tae us, and we've been a heavy 
 chairge tae Him. May He keep a firm haud o* 
 us, and 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 
 
AS A LITTLE CHILD 171 
 
 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 
 beneath the lamp, and the light fell like a halo 
 on their bent heads. That poor little vestry 
 had disappeared, 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 
 
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 de- 
 ceived 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 uncer- 
 tain, but whose self-confidence bordered on the 
 miraculous. As a deacon of the Social Re- 
 ligionists, — a new denomination, which had 
 made an 'it with Sunday Entertainments, — and 
 Chairman of the Amalgamated Sons of Rest, — 
 
i8o CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY 
 
 a society of persons with conscientious objec- 
 tions to work between meals — he was horrified 
 at the primeval simplicity of the Glen, where 
 no meeting of protest 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 
 yeVe got, Hillocks? a' hear he's fleein' ower 
 the Glen, yammerin' and haverin' like a 
 starlin'." 
 
 " He's a gabby (talkative) body, Drums- 
 heugh, 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, Mais- 
 ter 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 aw- 
 fu' negleckit when he wes 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 
 
CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY 181 
 
 them on supply and demand, the Game Laws, 
 the production of cabbages for towns, the in- 
 iquity 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 
 haud o* him." 
 
 Jamie was the cynic of the Glen — who had 
 pricked many a wind 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 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 
 
i82 CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY 
 
 things plain to 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 know the difference be- 
 tween an Arminian and a Calvinist, and that 
 he supposed the Confession of Faith was in- 
 vented 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 intervened 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. 
 
CUNNING SPEECH OFDRUMTOCHTY 183 
 
 Hopps reaching shelter, three boxes were 
 offered Jamie. 
 
 The group was still lost in admiration when 
 Drumsheugh returned from his errand of 
 mercy. 
 
 " Sall r 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' sae little in him hes the face 
 tae open his mooth." 
 
 " 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 scen- 
 ery of our Glen, but disappointed in the 
 people. 
 
 " They may not be hignorant," said the little 
 man doubtfully, " but no man could call them 
 haffable." 
 
 It flashed on me for the first time that per- 
 haps there may have been the faintest want of 
 geniality in the Drumtochty manner, but it 
 was simply the reticence of a subtle and con- 
 
i8 4 CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY 
 
 scientious people. Intellect with us had been 
 brought to so fine an edge by the Shorter 
 Catechism that it could detect endless distinc- 
 tions, and was ever on the watch against in- 
 accuracy. Farmers who could state the eso- 
 teric doctrine of " spiritual independence" be- 
 tween the stilts of the plough, and talked 
 familiarly of " co-ordinate jurisdiction with 
 mutual subordination," 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 Seceders and Cameronians, Burgh- 
 ers and Anti-Burghers — there were days when 
 he would include the Glassites, — with unfalter- 
 ing 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 superlative adjectives, seeing what 
 a big place the world is, and how little we 
 know ? Purple adjectives would have been as 
 
CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY 185 
 
 much out of place in our conversation as a bird 
 of paradise among our muirfowl. 
 
 Mr. Hopps was so inspired by one of 
 our sunsets — to his credit let that be told — 
 that he tried to drive Jamie into extrava- 
 gance. 
 
 " 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' Ree- 
 velation." 
 
 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 only " 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 
 
186 CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY 
 
 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 pri- 
 vate life we spoke of " the ill place" and " oor 
 lang hame." 
 
 When the corn sprouted in the stooks one 
 late wet harvest, and Burnbrae lost half his 
 capital, he only said, " It's no lichtsome," and 
 no congratulations on a good harvest ever ex- 
 tracted more from Drumsheugh than " A' 
 daurna complain." 
 
 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" 
 
IN A COTTAGE KITCHEN 
 
CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY 187 
 
 horse for an hour before selling — " He wud be 
 the better o' anither dip." And in the case of 
 downright fraud — finding 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 theol- 
 ogy, and even the positive degree of condem- 
 nation had an ecclesiastical flavour. 
 
 When Drumsheugh approved any one, 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 " 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 confused, 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 Drum- 
 
1 88 CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY 
 
 tochty witness had held his own in an ecclesias- 
 tical court. 
 
 " X°u 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 Netheraird 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 
 Drumtochty. Conversation touched this kind 
 of circumstance with delicacy and caution, for 
 we keenly realised the limitations of human 
 knowledge. 
 
 "He hed his mornin'," served all ordinary 
 
CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMf OCEtTY 189 
 
 purposes, and in cases of emergency, such as 
 Muirtown market : 
 
 " Ye cud see he hed been tastin'." 
 
 When an advocate forgot himself so far as 
 to say intoxicated, a Drumtochty man might 
 be excused for being upset. 
 
 " Losh, man," when he had recovered, " hoo 
 cud ony richt-thinkin' man sweer tae sic an 
 awfu' 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 living a* clean forgot tae try 
 him." 
 
 Then the chastened counsel 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 
 recalling the scene. " Na, I cudna say stagger, 
 but he micht gie a bit trimmil." 
 
i 9 o CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY 
 
 " 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 va- 
 cant, 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 
 gumption 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 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 
 
CUNNING SPEECH OFDRUMTOCHTY 191 
 
 this meenut, a' cudna sweer a' hed ever seen a 
 man intoxicat in ma life, except a puir body o* 
 an English bag-man at Muirtown Station. A* 
 doot he hed bin meddlin' wi' speerits, and they 
 were wheelin' him tae his kerridge in a lug- 
 gage barrow. It wes a fearsome sicht, and 
 eneugh tae keep ony man frae speakin* aboot 
 intoxicat in yon louse wy." 
 
 Archie Moncur fought the drinking customs 
 of the Glen night and day with moderate suc- 
 cess, 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 
 Dantesque 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 merridge — and maybe New 
 Year. That's the first stage ; they ca' that 
 moderation. Aiftera whilie they takamornin' 
 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; 
 
i 9 2 CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY 
 
 that's * tastinV Then they need it reg'lar every 
 day, nicht an* mornin', and they'll 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 hae their first 
 spatie (spate is a fiver flood), and that gies 
 them a bit fricht. But 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 grue* 
 some suggestion of that " plunk." 
 
 But the literary credit of Drumtochty rested 
 on a broad basis, and no one could live with U9 
 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. 
 
CUNNING SPEECH OFDRUMTOCHTY 193 
 
 There is, for instance, a type of idler who ex- 
 asperates one to the point of assault, and whom 
 one hungers to describe after a becoming man- 
 ner. 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-fashioned 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 here ; ' he 'ill be slavin' his flesh aff 
 his banes tae mak a fortune and keep her com- 
 fortable.' 
 
 " It was a rael satisfaction tae read yir letter 
 frae the backwoods — or was't a public-hoose in 
 N 
 
i 9 4 CUNNING SPEECH OFDRUMTOCHTY 
 
 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 out 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' mischief tae — that gude word o' the Maister. 
 Half the wastrels in the warld pay their pas- 
 sage hame wi' that Parable, and get a bran new 
 outfit for anither start in the far country. 
 
 " Noo dinna turn red, Chairlie, for the nee- 
 burs 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 tak a sister's wages, and if they 
 camja get ony better a dune body o' eighty 'ill 
 serve them. 
 
 " Man, Chairlie, if a' 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' 
 
CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY 195 
 
 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, 
 fushionless wratch o' a cratur tae watch for 
 the first spate and droon himsel' in the 
 Tochty." 
 
 " What's he aff through the graves f for in sic 
 a hurry?" and Jamie followed Charlie's retreat- 
 ing figure with a glance of admirable amaze- 
 ment ; " thae's no very gude mainners he's 
 learned in Americky." 
 
 "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 am expeckin' he 'ill flee the 
 pairish." 
 
 Which he did. Had you called him indolent 
 or useless he had smiled, but " daidlin', thow- 
 
196 CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY 
 
 less, 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 carnations; 
 and the best of 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 return ; and a load of country 
 dainties for a bachelor's bare commons; and 
 far more, that cannot be put into words, of 
 hospitality, and kindness, and quietness, and 
 restfulness, and loyal friendship of hearts now 
 turned to dust in the old kirkyard. 
 
CUNNING SPEECH OF DRUMTOCHTY 197 
 
 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 rever- 
 ence, which they themselves never knew. 
 Jamie Soutar had a wicked tongue, and, at a 
 time, it played round Archie's temperance 
 schemes, 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' man- and 
 weel prepared." 
 
 Our choicest tribute was paid by general con- 
 sent to Burnbrae, and it may be partiality, but 
 it sounds to me the deepest in religious speech. 
 Every cottage, strangers must understand, had 
 at least two rooms — the kitchen where the 
 work was done, that we called the " But," and 
 tfiere all kinds of people came ; and the inner 
 
198 CUNNING SPEECH OFDRUMTOCHTY 
 
 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, 
 ploughing and reaping, going out and in the 
 common ways of a farmer's life, and had not 
 missed the glory of the soul. Tne 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 Soutar, "but 
 there's ae thing ye may be sure o', Burnbrae is 
 < far ben/ " 
 
MRS. MACFADYEN 
 
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 Drum- 
 tochty, of coorse. A've jined the polls ; the 
 pay is no that bad, and the work is naethin' 
 tae 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 an' rinnin' there, and the maist feck o' 
 them dinna ken whar they're gaein. 
 
202 A WISE WOMAN 
 
 " It's officer this and officer that frae morn- 
 in' till nicht. It's peetifu' tae see the helpless- 
 ness o' the bodies in their ain toon. And 
 they're freevolous," continued the figure, re- 
 freshing itself with a reminiscence. 
 
 " 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 roond 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 
 licht-headed fouk, and no sair educat. But we 
 maunna boast ; they hevna hed oor advan- 
 tages." 
 
 The minister made a brave effort to assert 
 himself. 
 
OUR SERMON TASTER 203 
 
 " 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 judg- 
 ment," 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 a'm rael weel satis- 
 fied wi' yersel', and a'm thinkin' o' sittin' under 
 ye. 
 
 " Man," were Drumtochty's last words, " a' 
 wish Elspeth Macfadyen cud hear ye, her 'at 
 prees (tastes) the sermons in oor Glen ; a' be- 
 lieve she wud pass ye, an' if ye got a certeeficat 
 frae Elspeth, ye wud be a prood man." 
 
 Drumtochty read widely — Soutar was soaked 
 
2o 4 A WISE WOMAN 
 
 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 moment 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 subject. No preacher 
 with anything to say could complain of Drum- 
 tochty, 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 
 spiritual applause in the shape of smiles and 
 nods, lost heart in face of that judicial front, 
 and afterwards d escribe d Drumtochty in the 
 
OUR SERMON TASTER 205 
 
 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. 
 
 " Whar did yon wakely body come frae, Burn- 
 brae? it wes licht wark the day. There wes 
 nae thocht worth mentioning 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 TPa' 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 experts in special departments — Lachlan 
 Campbell in doctrine and Jamie Soutar in logic 
 
2 o6 A WISE WOMAN 
 
 — but as an old round practitioner Mrs. Mac- 
 fadyen had a solitary reputation. It rested on 
 a long series of unreversed judgments, with 
 felicitous strokes of description 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 regis- 
 ter ; an unfailing sense of fitness ; and an abso- 
 lute impartiality regarding subject. 
 
 It goes without saying that Mrs. Macfadyen 
 did not take nervous little notes during the 
 sermon — all writing on Sabbath, in kirk or out- 
 side, 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 ser- 
 mon 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 dis- 
 
OUR SERMON TASTER 207 
 
 course 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 dis- 
 credit to Elspeth. 
 
 " They were savin' at the Presbytery," Burn- 
 brae 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 Souter 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 Els- 
 
2 o8 A WISE WOMAN 
 
 peth — and the achievement established her 
 for life. 
 
 Probationers who preached in the vacancy- 
 had 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 Resid- 
 uary,' 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 
 
OUR SERMON TASTER 209 
 
 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 accessible to gross flattery, she seemed 
 pleased. 
 
 " A'm thankfu' that a' can see withoot look- 
 in* ; an' a'll wager nae man ever read his ser 
 mon in Drumtochty Kirk, an' a' didna find him 
 oot. Noo, there's the new minister o' Nether- 
 aird, 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. 
 
 " 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 thinkin'. 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 wes this wy : he askit the beadle for 
 a gless o' water in the vestry, and slippit his 
 O 
 
2io A WISE WOMAN 
 
 sermon in atween the leaves in sae mony bits. 
 AVe wished for a gallery at a time, but there's 
 mair credit in findin' it oot below — ay, an* 
 pleesure tae ; a' never wearied in kirk in ma 
 life." 
 
 Mrs. Macfadyen did not appreciate prodigal 
 quotations of Scriptures, and had her suspi- 
 cions 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 whilie 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. 
 
 u l He's a Bible preacher, at any rate/ says 
 Burnbrae tae me laist Fast, for, honest man, he 
 hes aye some gude word for a body. 
 
OUR SERMON TASTER 211 
 
 " ' 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 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 hu- 
 mour 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. 
 
212 A WISE WOMAN 
 
 " 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 '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. 
 
 " 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, 
 
OUR SERMON TASTER 213 
 
 besides bein' a married man and a kirk mem- 
 ber, 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 aVe been feared." 
 
 When the Free Kirk quarrelled in their va- 
 cancy over two probationers, Mrs. Macfadyen 
 summed them up with such excellent judgment 
 that they were thrown over and peace restored. 
 
 u 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 wun- 
 ner 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 him- 
 sel' and ain aboot a lord — twa burnies, ae floo'r 
 gairden, and a snowstorm, wi' the text thirteen 
 
214 A WISE WOMAN 
 
 times and ' beloved ' twal ; that was a'; a takin' 
 window, 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 man canna get what ye want ; he's 
 clean smoored wi' his ain goods. 
 
 " It's a graund shop for the auld fouk that 
 hae plenty o' time and can turn ower the things 
 by the 'oor. Ye 'ill no get a young body in- 
 side 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 meenute, 
 and 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 
 
MRS. MACFADVEN'S WALL OF CROCKERY 
 
OUR SERMON TASTER 215 
 
 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 .0' 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 
 ©' 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 High- 
 land minister, who was returning from his win- 
 ter's raid on Glasgow with great spoil, and ar- 
 ranged an evening service, which might carry 
 Lachlan Campbell back to the golden days of 
 Auchindarroch. Mr. Dugald Mactavish was 
 himself much impressed with the opportunity 
 of refreshing his exiled brethren, speaking 
 freely on the Saturday of the Lowlands as 
 Babylon, and the duty of gathering the out- 
 casts of Israel into one. He was weaned with 
 difficulty from Gaelic, and only consented to 
 preach in the " other language" on condition 
 
THE COLLAPSE OF MRS. MACFADYEN 217 
 
 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 escap- 
 ing from such bondage to put a generous inter- 
 pretation on Carmichael's concession. So 
 Maister Dugald continued unto the setting of 
 the sun. His discourse was so rich and varied 
 that Peddie of Muirtown on original sin was 
 not to be compared with it in breadth of treat- 
 ment, 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* gle 
 
ai$ A WISE WOMAN 
 
 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 re- 
 moved all strangers, that worthy man opened 
 the campaign. 
 
 " What kin* o' collieshangie (disturbance) is 
 this yeVe been carryin' on, Hillocks? it's doon- 
 richt aggravatin' that ye're no content pester- 
 in' 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 af- 
 frontit 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* 
 there's ithers declare ye ran in compt (com- 
 
THE COLLAPSE OF MRS. MACFADYEN 219 
 
 pany) 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 Hil- 
 locks, 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 impi- 
 dence tae complain that the Doctor was tedi- 
 ous Sabbath a fortnicht when he gied us 
 ■ Ruth/ though I never minded ' Ruth' gae aff 
 sae sweet a' the times aVe 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 bands,' says I, 
 * if that's what ye mean/ for the head o' him is 
 
22o A WISE WOMAN 
 
 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 spec- 
 tacle/ 
 
 " ' 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 name,' 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 
 whar naebody cud see him, but he's that 
 thrawn 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 ower masel, Hillocks ; it 'ill be 
 an awfu' nicht.' 
 
 " Thae Hielandmen dinna pit aff time wi' the 
 preleeminaries, but they were lang eneuch tae 
 
THE COLLAPSE OF MRS. MACFADYEN 221 
 
 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 warn- 
 in' ; 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 
 history, and now they drew closer round Hil- 
 locks, 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 congrega- 
 tion : 
 
 " ' There's nothing in all the world so decep- 
 tive as sin, for outside it's like a bonnie sum- 
 mer day, and inside it's as black as hell. 
 
 " * Now here iss this fat little man sittin' be- 
 fore me with his suit o' blue clothes so bonnie 
 
222 A WISE WOMAN 
 
 and dainty, and a watch guard as thick as my 
 finger 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 fear- 
 some 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 Hil- 
 locks resumed : 
 
 " 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 
 meenut till the puir cratur fell back intae his 
 seat 
 
THE COLLAPSE OF MRS. MACFADYEN 223 
 
 " ' 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 caring though you be MacCallummore 
 himser. 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 nobody wants to go out, then I will 
 be going on with the sermon, oh yes, for it will 
 not do to be spending 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." 
 
 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." 
 
«2 4 A WISE WOMAN 
 
 " 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 wes sair provokit. Aifter haddin' her ain 
 twenty years tae be maistered by a Hieland- 
 man." 
 
 It was simply a duty of friendship to look in 
 and express one's sympathy with Mrs. Mac- 
 fadyen in this professional disaster. I found 
 her quite willing to go over the circumstances, 
 which were unexampled 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 hun- 
 dred. AVe 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 
 
THE COLLAPSE OF MRS. MACFADYEN 225 
 
 like the plates there," and Mrs. Macfadyen 
 pointed with honest pride to her wall of crock- 
 ery, " and when the minister is at an illustration 
 or makin' an appeal a* aye rin ower the rack 
 tae see that a've a' the pints in their places. 
 Maister Mactavish cud ne'er hae got the 
 wheephand o' me wi' 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. 
 Macfadyen 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 man 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 
 P 
 
226 A WISE WOMAN 
 
 no a'; he didna feenish wi* ae set an* begin wf 
 the next, but if he didna mix them a' thegither. 
 Fower set o* heads a' in a tangle ; noo ye hae 
 some kin* o' idea 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 circumstances, Elspeth rallied, and gave 
 me to understand that she had saved some 
 fragments from the wreckage. 
 
 " A'U 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 it mair or less, ' The trumpet shall be 
 blown, and they shall come from Assyria 
 and the land o' Egypt/ and he began by ex- 
 plainin' that there were twa classes in Drum- 
 tochty, those who were born and bred in the 
 parish, which were oursels, and them 'at hed tae 
 stay here owin' tae the mysterious dispensations 
 o' Providence, which wes Lachlan Campbell. 
 
 "Noo this roosed ma suspicions, for it'a 
 
NAPPING STONES 
 
THE COLLAPSE OF MRS. MACFADYEN 227 
 
 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, l 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 heestori- 
 cal 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 meenuts he had the hale fower trumpets 
 blawing thegither. 
 
 " It wes maist exasperatin', and a' saw Jeems 
 watchin' me — but that's naethin'. 
 
 " ' There be many trumpets,' says he, ' oh 
 yes, an' it wes a good trumpet Zaccheus 
 
228 A WISE WOMAN 
 
 heard,' and afore a' knew where a' wes he hed 
 startit again wi' fower new heads, as if he had 
 never said trumpet. 
 
 " * 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' 
 Zaccheus. 
 
 " * 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 diffi- 
 culties. 
 
 " 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 
 
THE COLLAPSE OF MRS. MACFADYEN 229 
 
 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 ter- 
 rible 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' oppeesi- 
 tion here/ an' a' tell ye honestly a' lost hert 
 a'thegither, for here he wes back again amang 
 the trumpets, and a'll gie ma aith he never sae 
 much as mentioned 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 Lach- 
 lan ca'd him, a'd dinna ken, but aboot half 
 
2 3 o A WISE WOMAN 
 
 nine — an' he begood at six — he sat 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 hap- 
 pened," and confusion covered Mrs. Mac- 
 fadyen's ingenuous countenance. 
 
 " Weel, as sure's deith a' cudna help it, tae 
 be sittin' on peens for mair than twa oors try- 
 in' tae get a grup o' a man's heads, an' him tae 
 play hide-and-seek wi' ye, an' then tae begin 
 on Satan at nine o'clock is mair nor flesh and 
 bluid cud 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 
 be beat, but anither oor o' Mactavish wud hae 
 driven me dottle (silly)." 
 
 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 food 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 pour- 
 ing at the Junction, then Drumtochty stood 
 two minutes longer through sheer native dour- 
 ness till each man had a cascade from the tail 
 
234 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 of his coat, and hazarded the suggestion, half- 
 way to Kildrummie, that it had been " a bit 
 scrowie," a " scrowie" being as far short of a 
 " shoor" as a " shoor" fell below " weet." 
 
 This sustained defiance of the elements pro- 
 voked occasional judgments in the shape of a 
 11 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, regarding it as suitable for the 
 effeminacy of towns, but not seriously intend- 
 ed 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 regetting his hastiness 
 and criticising his successor. The ordinary 
 course of life, with fine air and contented 
 minds, was to do a full share of work till seven- 
 ty, and then to look after " orra" jobs well into 
 the eighties, and to " slip awa" within sight of 
 ninety. Persons above ninety were understood 
 
A GENERAL PRACTITIONER 235 
 
 to be acquitting themselves with credit, and 
 assumed airs of authority, brushing aside the 
 opinions of seventy as immature, and confirm- 
 ing 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 
 scandalized, 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 savin' he wes never the 
 same sin' a weet nicht he lost himsel on the 
 muir and slept below a bush ; but that's neither 
 here nor there. A'm thinkin' he sappit his con- 
 stitution thae 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' 
 apologia, 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. 
 
236 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 " 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 hed 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 depar- 
 ture 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 
 Drumtochty 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 afternoon 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 casual- 
 ly explained that he was waiting for medical 
 advice. 
 
A GENERAL PRACTITIONER 237 
 
 "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." 
 
 The doctor made his diagnosis from horse- 
 back on sight, and stated the result with that 
 admirable clearness which endeared him to 
 Drumtochty. 
 
 " Confoond ye, Hillocks, what are ye ploiter- 
 in' aboot here for in the weet wi' a face like a 
 boiled beet ? Div ye no ken that yeVe a titch 
 o' the rose (erysipelas), and ocht tae be in the 
 hoose? Gae hame wi' ye afore a' leave the 
 bit, and send a haflin for some medicine. 
 Ye donnerd idiot, are ye ettlin tae follow 
 Drums afore yir time ? " And the medical at- 
 tendant of Drumtochty continued his invec- 
 tive 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 afl 
 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 
 
238 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 there's no ane o' them tae mind anither in the 
 hale pairish." 
 
 Hillocks' wife informed the kirkyaird that 
 the doctor " gied the gudeman an awfu' clear- 
 in'," 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 road- 
 side 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 Drumtochty — where the 
 snows drifts were twelve feet deep in winter, 
 and the only way of passage at times was the 
 channel of the river— and the moorland district 
 westwards till he came to the Dunleith sphere 
 of influence, where there were four doctors and 
 a hydropathic. Drumtochty in its length, 
 which was eight miles, and its breadth, which 
 
A GENERAL PRACTITIONER 239 
 
 was four, lay in his hand ; besides a glen be- 
 hind, 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, travel- 
 led 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 mas- 
 ter, and the passing 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 rise faster, stay 
 longer in the saddle, and had a firmer grip with 
 his knees than any one I ever met, and it was 
 
2 4 o A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 all for mercy's sake. When the reapers in har- 
 vest 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 
 the upper glen, they knew it was the doctor, 
 and, without being conscious 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 be- 
 fore him. There were no specialists in Drum- 
 tochty, 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 chloro- 
 formist, 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 gal- 
 loped all the way to Burnbrae, and flung him- 
 
A GENERAL PRACTITIONER 241 
 
 self 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, an' Burnbrae 
 haudin' the bandage ticht an' prayin' a' 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' him : he first sent aff the lad- 
 die'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 ladder in his airms like a bairn, and laid 
 Q 
 
2 4 * A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 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 enthusi- 
 asm of this reminiscence, and he expressed the 
 feeling of Drumtochty. No one sent for Mac- 
 Lure 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 ad- 
 vantage 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 grey, 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 
 
A GENERAL PRACTITIONER 243 
 
 humble room where the shepherd's wife was 
 weeping by her man's bedside. 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 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 without making two attempts and hold- 
 ing Jess's mane. Neither can you " warstle " 
 through the peat bogs and snow drifts 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. MacLure got nothing but the secret af- 
 fection of the Glen, which knew that none had 
 ever done one-tenth as much for it as this un- 
 gainly, twisted, battered figure, and I have 
 
244 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 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 amaze- 
 ment. Black he wore once a year, on Sacra- 
 ment Sunday, and, if possible, at a funeral ; 
 topcoat or waterproof never. His jacket and 
 waistcoat were rough homespun of Glen Urtach 
 wool, which threw off the wet like a duck's 
 back, and below he was clad in shepherd's tar- 
 tan trousers, which disappeared into unpolished 
 riding boots. His shirt was grey flannel, and 
 he was uncertain about a collar, but certain as 
 to a tie which he never had, his beard doing 
 instead, and his hat was soft felt of four colours 
 and seven different shapes. His point of dis- 
 tinction in dress was the trousers, and they 
 were the subject of unending speculation. 
 
 " 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 
 
MACLURE TAKS OOT THE BIT BOTTLES 
 
A GENERAL PRACTITIONER 245 
 
 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 wud not like tae see him 
 withoot them : it wud be a shock tae con- 
 fidence. 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 tributary 
 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 countyside for weel on tae a century ; 
 if MacLure 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," con- 
 
246 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 tinued my friend Mrs. Macfadyen, whose judg- 
 ment 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. 
 
 "He aye can tell what's wrang wi' a body, 
 an* maistly he can put ye richt, and there's nae 
 new-fangled wys wi' him : a blister for the oot- 
 side 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 shairp meisture on the 
 skin. 
 
 " But he's no verra ceevil gin ye bring him 
 when there's naethin' wrang," and Mrs. Mac- 
 fadyen's face reflected another of Mr. Hopps' 
 misadventures of which Hillocks held the copy- 
 right. 
 
 " 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. 
 
A GENERAL PRACTITIONER 247 
 
 an' he writes * immediately ' on a slip o' 
 paper. 
 
 " Weel, MacLure had been awa a* nicht wi' 
 a shepherd's wife Dunleith wy, and he comes 
 here withoot drawin' bridle, mud up tae the 
 een. 
 
 " ' What's a dae here, Hillocks ?" he cries ; 
 1 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' lad- 
 die ; he's been eatin' ower mony berries.' 
 
 " If he didna turn on me like a tiger. 
 
 " ' Div ye mean tae say ' 
 
 u * Weesht, weesht,' an' I tried tae quiet him, 
 for Hopps wes comin' oot. 
 
 " ' Well, doctor,' begins he, as brisk as a mag- 
 pie, ' you're here at last ; there's no hurry with 
 you Scotchmen. My boy has been sick all 
 night, and I've never had one wink of sleep. 
 You might have come a little quicker, that's 
 all I've got to say.' 
 
 " ' We've mair tae dae in Drumtochty than 
 attend tae every bairn that hes a sair stomach/ 
 and a' saw MacLure wes roosed. 
 
248 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 " ' I'm astonished to hear you speak. Our 
 doctor 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 head- 
 ache." ' 
 
 " ' He'd be mair sparin' o' his offers if he hed 
 four and twenty mile tae look aifter. There's 
 naethin' 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, you see, Dr. MacLure, we're homoe- 
 opathists, and I've my little chest here, 'and oot 
 Hopps comes wi' his boxy. 
 
 " ' Let's see'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' 
 
A GENERAL PRACTITIONER 249 
 
 the Nux till it's dune, and gie him ony ither o' 
 the sweeties he fancies. 
 
 " * Noo, Hillocks, a* maun be aff tae see 
 Drumsheugh'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 tak a pail o* 
 meal an' water. 
 
 11 ' Fee ; a'm no wantin' yir fees, man ; wi' that 
 boxy ye dinna need a doctor ; na, na, gie yir 
 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 Kildrummie 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." 
 
 M 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 
 
250 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 me, the doctor might get in about £150 a year, 
 out of which he had to pay his old housekeep- 
 er'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 McLure 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 
 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 hauds 
 them in bondage. 
 
A GENERAL PRACTITIONER 251 
 
 H 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. 
 
 11 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 
 
 Doctor MacLure did not lead a solemn pro- 
 cession 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 accus- 
 tomed 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 looking doctor? tell's the 
 
ANNIE COMIN TAE MEET ME 
 
THROUGH THE FLOOD 253 
 
 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 hes a 
 chance, but a' daurna ; a' doot yir gaein' tae 
 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. 
 
 " It's a sair business, but ye 'ill play the man 
 and no vex Annie ; she 'ill dae her best, a'll 
 warrant." 
 
 "An' a'll dae mine," and Tammas gave 
 MacLure'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 sympathy the stricken man drank his 
 cup, drop by drop. 
 
 " A' wesna prepared for this, for a' aye thocht 
 
254 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 she wud live the langest. . . . She's younger 
 than me by ten years, and never wes ill. . . . 
 We've been mairit twal year laist 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 tae 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. . . . 
 Naebody 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 sweet- 
 hearts a' the time. . . . Oh, ma bonnie lass, 
 what 'ill the bairnies an' me dae withoot ye, 
 Annie ?" 
 
 The winter night was falling fast, the snow 
 lay deep upon the ground, and the merciless 
 north wind moaned through the close as Tam- 
 
THROUGH THE FLOOD 255 
 
 mas wrestled 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 Mar- 
 get Howe, who had come out in search of 
 Tammas, and now stood by his side. 
 
 " Dinna mourn tae the brakin' o' yir hert, 
 Tammas," 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'. Oh, 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 Edin- 
 boro' 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 
 
256 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 ma name, an' a'll no can tell her that a' luve 
 her when there's nae Annie in the 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 Tarn- 
 mas searched the doctor's face in the cold, 
 weird light. 
 
 " There's nae pooer in heaven or airth like 
 luve," 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 wistfully, 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 him- 
 selV 
 
 " Ye needna plead wi* me, Tammas, to dae 
 
THROUGH THE FLOOD 257 
 
 the best a' can for yir wife. Man, a' kent her 
 lang afore ye ever luved her ; a* brocht her in- 
 tae 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. A've 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," Mar- 
 get said, " a' thocht him the winsomest man a* 
 ever saw. He wes transfigured that nicht, for 
 a'm judging there's nae transfiguration like 
 luve." 
 
 R 
 
258 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 " It's God's wull an' maun be borne, but it's a 
 sair wull for 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 An- 
 nie for the last time. 
 
 Jess picked her way through the deep snow 
 to the main road, with a skill that came of 
 long experience, 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 Tam- 
 mas's hert, for it's heavy eneuch withoot re- 
 grets. 
 
 " 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 
 
THROUGH THE FLOOD 259 
 
 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 'ill gang and see Drumsheugh, Jess ; 
 he's anither man sin' Geordie 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. 
 
 "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 lichtsome, 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 
 
2 6o A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 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, an' no let Annie gang, and her 
 no half her years." 
 
 " Are ye meanin' it, Drumsheugh ? " and 
 MacLure turned white below the tan. 
 
 " William MacLure," said Drumsheugh, in 
 one of the few confidences that ever broke the 
 Drumtochty 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 ? 
 Burn brae 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 
 
THROUGH THE FLOOD 261 
 
 bit fairm' in his pooch for the fouk at hame 
 that he's bocht wi' the siller he won. 
 
 " 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 
 onywhere, 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 
 other. 
 
 " Weel, a' we can dae noo, Weelum, gin we 
 
262 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 haena mickle brichtness in oor ain names, is 
 tae keep the licht frae gaein' oot in anither 
 hoose. Write the telegram, man, and Sandy 
 111 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', — 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- 
 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 profes- 
 sion ; 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 redness with the bitter cold ; rough 
 and ungainly, yet not without some signs of 
 
THROUGH THE FLOOD 263 
 
 power in his eye and voice, the most heroic 
 type of his noble profession. MacLure com- 
 passed the precious arrival with observances till 
 he was securely seated in Drumsheugh's dog- 
 cart — a vehicle that lent itself to history — with 
 two full-sized plaids added to his equipment — 
 Drumsheugh and Hillocks had both been req- 
 uisitioned — and MacLure wrapped another 
 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 
 the depth tae an inch ; we 'ill get through this 
 
264 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 steadin' here tae the main road, but oor worst 
 job 'ill be crossin' the Tochty. 
 
 " Ye see the bridge hes been 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 had* 
 din' them on yir knee till we're ower, an' keep 
 firm 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 sum- 
 mer 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 op 
 posite side Hillocks stood to give directions by 
 word and hand, as the ford was on his land, and 
 none knew the Tochty better in all its ways. 
 
THROUGH THE FLOOD 265 
 
 They passed through the shallow water with- 
 out mishap, save when the wheel struck a 
 hidden stone or fell suddenly into a rut ; but 
 when they neared the body of the river Mac- 
 Lure 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 the shafts, so that the surgeon 
 could feel it lapping 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 allow- 
 ed himself to be drowned for any person. 
 
 " Sit doon," thundered MacLure ; " con- 
 demned ye will be suner or later gin ye shirk 
 
266 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 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 Hil- 
 locks, 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 seats. Up the 
 channel noo, and ye '11 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 
 middle ; a Hielan' ford is a kittle (hazardous) 
 road in the snaw time, but ye're safe noo. 
 
THROUGH THE FLOOD 267 
 
 " 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 stop- 
 pin' till a' come for ye, an' a'll 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 onythingye 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. 
 
268 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 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 Els- 
 peth 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* 
 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 
 
THROUGH THE FLOOD 269 
 
 speech came only once in his lifetime to Tarn- 
 mas, but Annie whispered, " Ma ain dear 
 man." 
 
 When the doctor placed the precious bag be- 
 side Sir George in our solitary first next morn- 
 ing, he laid a cheque beside it and was about 
 to leave. 
 
 " No, no," said the great man. " Mrs. Mac- 
 fadyen 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, miser- 
 ly rascal," and the cheque 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, Mac- 
 Lure ; I'm proud to have met you ; you are an 
 honour to our profession. Mind the antiseptic 
 dressings." 
 
 It was market day, but only Jamie Soutar 
 and Hillocks had ventured down. 
 
 " Did ye hear yon, Hillocks ? hoo dae ye 
 feel? A'll no deny a'm lifted." 
 
270 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 Halfway to the Junction Hillocks had re- 
 covered, and began to grasp the situation. 
 
 " Tell's what he said. A' wud like to hae it 
 exact 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. 
 
Ill 
 
 A FIGHT WITH DEATH 
 
 When Drumsheugh's grieve was brought to 
 the gates of death by fever, caught, as was sup- 
 posed, 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 impossible 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, but- 
 toning 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 himself to 
 consolation. 
 
 " Dinna greet like that, Bell wumman, sae 
 
272 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 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 Saun- 
 ders. 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. 
 
 " 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 presumptous 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 
 
A FIGHT WITH DEATH 273 
 
 read fevers like a buik, but he never cam across 
 sic a thing as the Drumtochty constitution a* 
 his days. 
 
 " Ye see, when onybody gets as low as puir 
 Saunders here, it's 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 hes been fillin' his lungs for 
 five and thirty year wi' strong Drumtochty air, 
 an' eatin' naethin' but kirny aitmeal, and drink- 
 in* 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 harvest, 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 Saun- 
 ders 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. 
 S 
 
274 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 " A' daurna say yea, Bell, muckle as a* wud 
 like, for this is an evil disease, cunnin' an' treach- 
 erous 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 sax 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 
 Drumsheugh 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 k leant over the bed, and at the sight of 
 Saunders' face a superstitious dread seized her. 
 
 " See, doctor, the shadow of deith is on him 
 chat never lifts. A've seen it afore, on ma 
 father an' mither. A* canna leave him, a' canna 
 leave him." 
 
A FIGHT WITH DEATH 275 
 
 " 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 work. 
 
 " The doctors in the toons hae nurses an' a' 
 kinds o' handy apparatus," said MacLure to 
 Drumsheugh 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, and hes been on Drumsheugh 
 for twenty years, an' though he be a dour 
 chiel, he's a faithfu' servant as ever lived. It's 
 waesome tae see him lyin' there moanin' like 
 some dumb animal frae mornin' tae 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 
 
276 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 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," Drums- 
 heugh expatiated 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 Mac- 
 Lure ; '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 wf the carryinV " 
 
 It was a wonderful ascent up the steep path- 
 way 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 centre, Drums- 
 heugh looked curiously at the doctor. 
 
A FIGHT WITH DEATH 277 
 
 " 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 yer- 
 sel in the Glen. 
 
 " There's twa dangers — that Saunders' 
 strength fails, an' that the force o' the fever 
 grows ; and we have juist twa weapons. 
 
 " Yon milk on the drawers' head an' the bot- 
 tle 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 hoo 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. 
 
278 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 H 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 Saunders. 
 
 " 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 bring- 
 ing 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. 
 
 "We 'ill no need the water again, Drums- 
 heugh ; gae oot and tak a breath o' air ; a'm 
 on gaird masel." 
 
 It was the hour before daybreak, and Drums- 
 heugh 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 
 
A FIGHT WITH DEATH 279 
 
 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 hoot- 
 ing of an owl made him start ; one had fright- 
 ened 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 be- 
 tween life and death, but love was in that 
 home. The futility of life arose before this 
 lonely man, and overcame his heart with an in- 
 describable sadness. What a vanity was all 
 human labour, what a mystery all human life. 
 
 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 eastwards. A faint grey 
 stole over the distant horizon, and suddenly a 
 cloud reddened before his eyes. The sun was 
 not in sight, but was rising, and sending fore- 
 runners before his face. The cattle began to 
 stir, a blackbird burst into song, and before 
 
2 8o A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 Drumsheugh crossed the threshold of Saunders' 
 house, the first ray of the sun had broken on a 
 peak of the Grampians. 
 
 MacLure left the bedside, and as the light of 
 the candle fell on the doctor's face, Drums- 
 heugh 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' 't, 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." 
 
A FIGHT WITH DEATH 281 
 
 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 gar- 
 den, sparkling with dew, and beside the byre, 
 where Hawkie rattled her chain, impatient for 
 Bell's coming, and by Saunders* little strip of 
 corn ready for the scythe, till they reached an 
 open field. There they came to a halt, and 
 Doctor 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 would have shouted had he been a 
 complete mile from Saunders* room. Any less 
 distance was useless for adequate expression. 
 He struck Drumsheugh 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 livin' this meenut, an* like to live. 
 
282 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 " He's got by the warst clean and fair, and 
 wV him that's as good as cure. 
 
 " It' ill be a graund waukenin' for Bell ; she 'ill 
 no be a weedow yet, nor the bairnies fatherless. 
 
 "There's nae use glowerin' at me, Drums- 
 heugh, for a body's daft at a time, an' a' canna 
 contain masel, 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 
 explained in the kirkyard next Sabbath, " and 
 ye ken he's been terrible mishannelled by ac- 
 cidents, sae ye 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' wud hae made a third gin a' hed been 
 there," announced Hillocks, aggressively- 
 
A FIGHT WITH DEATH 283 
 
 " Come on, Drumsheugh," said Jamie Soutar, 
 "gie's the end o't ; it wes a michty morninV 
 
 " ', We're twa auld fules,' says MacLure tae 
 me, and he gaithers up his claithes. * It wud 
 set us better tae be tellin' Bell.' 
 
 " She wes 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 them- 
 selves, an' thae words came intae ma mind, 
 " Weepin' may endure for a nicht, but joy 
 cometh in the morninV 
 
 " ' The Lord heard ma prayer, and joy hes 
 
284 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 come in the mornin',' an' she gripped the doc- 
 tor's hand. 
 
 " ' Ye've been the instrument, Doctor Mac- 
 Lure. 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 hae thocht 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 occa- 
 sion by ordinar," and Drumsheugh made Bell's 
 apology to Drumtochty for such an excess of 
 feeling. 
 
 " A' see naethin' tae excuse," insisted Jamie, 
 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 
 
A FIGHT WITH DEATH 285 
 
 that he saved frae weedowhood the best he ever 
 got." 
 
 " A* gaed up tae the Manse last nicht," con- 
 cluded Drumsheugh, " and telt the minister hoo 
 the doctor focht aucht oors for Saunders* life, 
 an* won, and ye never saw a man sae carried. 
 He walkit up and 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, Drums- 
 heugh/ says he ; * never mind me/ " 
 
 " A've hed the same masel in sic circum- 
 stances ; they come on sudden," said Jamie. 
 
 " A' wager there 'ill be a new bit in the laist 
 prayer the day, an* somethin' worth hearin\" 
 
 And the fathers went into kirk in great ex- 
 pectation. 
 
 " 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 : 
 
286 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 " 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 be- 
 loved physician of this parish and adjacent 
 districts." 
 
 " Didna a' tell ye, neeburs ?" said Jamie, as 
 they stood at the kirkyard gate before dispers- 
 ing ; " there's no a man in the coonty cud hae 
 dune it better, f 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 
 up " 
 
 Jamie stopped suddenly at the sound of a 
 horse's feet, and there, coming down the ave- 
 nue 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 
 
A FIGHT WITH DEATH 287 
 
 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," Whin- 
 nie Knowe, Drumsheugh, and Hillocks joining 
 lustily, but Tammas Mitchell carrying all before 
 him, for 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 
 
288 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 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 
 neighbours 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 thinking 
 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, 
 
A FIGHT WITH DEATH 289 
 
 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 frae 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 
 dependent on the dubious ministrations of the 
 Kildrummie doctor. Mrs. Macfadyen also pre- 
 tended to recall a "whup" of some kind or 
 other he had in the fifties, but this was con- 
 sidered to be rather a pyrotechnic display of 
 Elspeth's superior memory than a serious state- 
 ment of fact. MacLure could not have ridden 
 through the snow of forty winters without suf- 
 fering, yet no one ever heard him complain, and 
 he never pled illness to any messenger by night 
 or day. 
 
 " It took me," said Jamie Soutar to Milton 
 afterwards, " 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 ex- 
 
THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY 291 
 
 cuse himself for no hearing me at aince wi* 
 some story aboot juist comin' in frae Glen Ur- 
 tach, and no bein' in his bed for the laist twa 
 nichts. 
 
 " 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 l Sing a song o' saxpence* 
 till the bit mannie wud be lauchin' like a gude 
 ane, an' pooin' 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 a couthy word for sick fouk. 
 Weemen hae nae discernment, 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 Gallio. 
 
 " 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* 
 
292 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 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 greeting. 
 
 "The smith said that he wes thinkin' o' 
 Annie's tribble, but ony wy a' ca' it rael bairn- 
 ly. 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 Mil- 
 ton 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 
 summer that he was failing. 
 
 " He wes aye spare," said Hillocks, " an' 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 afl tae 
 
THE SMIDDY 
 
THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY 293 
 
 the saut water atween the neeps and the hairst. 
 He's been workin' forty year for a holiday, an* 
 it's aboot due." 
 
 Drumsheugh was full of tact, and met Mac- 
 Lure quite by accident on the road. 
 
 " Saunders 'ill no need me till the shearing 
 begins," 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 auld lang 
 syne ? it's lonesome for a solitary man, an' it 
 wud 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 a* 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 no- 
 ticed that the doctor's hair had turned grey, 
 and that his manner had lost all its roughness. 
 A feeling of secret gratitude filled their hearts, 
 
294 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 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 orna- 
 ment. Hillocks used to intercept 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 tae rest himsel" in the 
 kitchen. 
 
 MacLure had been slowly taking in the situa- 
 tion, 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 weet 
 and tae wrap masel up, an' there's no a week 
 but they're sendin' bit presents tae the hoose, 
 till a'm fair ashamed." 
 
 " Oo, a'll explain that in a meenut," answer- 
 
THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY 295 
 
 ed Jamie, " for a' ken the Glen weel. Ye see 
 they're juist tryin' the Scripture plan o' heap- 
 in' coals o' fire on yer head. 
 
 " Here ye've been negleckin' the fouk in 
 seeckness 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 carryin' 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 good 
 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 house- 
 keeper told Drumsheugh that the doctor was 
 
2 9 6 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 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 
 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 aw- 
 fu' day tae bring ye sae far, but a' kent ye 
 wudna grudge the traivel. 
 
 " A' wesna sure till last nicht, an* then a* 
 felt it wudna be lang, an* a* took a wearyin' 
 this mornin' tae see ye. 
 
THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY 297 
 
 " We've been freends sin' we were laddies at 
 the auld schule in the firs, an' a* wud like ye 
 tae be wi' me at the end. Ye 'ill stay the 
 nicht, Paitrick, for auld lang syne." 
 
 Drumsheugh was niuch 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 withoot ye in Drumtochty ;" and 
 Drumsheugh looked wistfully for some word of 
 hope. 
 
 " Na, na, Paitrick, naethin' can be dune, an* 
 it's 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. 
 
298 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 "AVe nae tribble worth mentionin' — a bit 
 titch o' bronchitis — an* aVe hed a graund con- 
 stitution ; but a'm fair worn oot, Paitrick ; 
 that's ma complaint, an' its 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 
 accoonts 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 
 
THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY 299 
 
 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', Wee- 
 lum ; 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 thegith- 
 er, an' dookin' Saunders ; ye 'ill no forget that 
 nicht, Weelum" — a gleam came into the doc- 
 tor's eyes — " tae say naethin' o' the Highlan' 
 fling." 
 
 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 
 
300 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 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 
 Ianger," 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' instruments ; 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 follow- 
 ed her maister — " 
 
 "Confoond ye, Weelum," broke out Drums- 
 heugh ; " its doonricht cruel o' ye to speak 
 like this tae me. Whar wud Jess gang but 
 tae Drumsheugh ? she 'ill hae her run o' heck 
 an' manger sae lang as she lives ; the Glen 
 
THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY 301 
 
 wudna h'ke 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* dinna 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 an' 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. 
 They're 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'll 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'm 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 
 
3 o2 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 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 man- 
 sions," 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. 
 
 <4 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 where- 
 in the Master tells us 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 naethin' tae say for 
 himsel'. 
 
 " It wesna easy for me tae get tae kirk, but 
 a' cud hae managed wi' a stretch, an' a' used 
 
DRUMSHEUGH SEARCHED FOR A COMFORTABLE SCRIPTURE 
 
THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY 303 
 
 langidge a* sudna, an' a* micht hae been gen- 
 tler, 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 Wee- 
 lum MacLure, for he's no been hard wi' ony- 
 body 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 wee- 
 men an' bairnies . . . an' gie him a welcome 
 
304 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 liame, for he's sair needin't after a* his wark. 
 . . . Amen." 
 
 " Thank ye, Paitrick, and gude nicht tae ye. 
 Ma ain true freend, gie's yir hand, for a'll may- 
 be 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 : 
 
 *' 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. Some one needed him. 
 
 " Are ye frae Glen Urtach ?" and an un 
 heard 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. 
 
THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY 305 
 
 " Gie's a hand wi' the lantern when a'm 
 saidling Jess, an' ye needna come on till day- 
 licht ; 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 traivel- 
 lin' ; 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 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. San- 
 die ! man, ye frichtened us ; a' didna see ye 
 ahint the dyke ; hoo's the wife ? " 
 
3o6 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 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 hegither. 
 
 " 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 dis- 
 appeared, 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/' 
 
 he repeated, till he came to the last verse, and 
 then he hesitated. 
 
THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY 307 
 
 " Goodness and mercy all my life 
 Shall surely follow me. 
 
 " Follow me . . . and . . . and . . . what's 
 next ? Mither said I wes tae haed ready when 
 she cam. 
 
 " ' A'll come afore ye gang tae sleep, Wullie, 
 but ye 'ill no get yir kiss unless ye can feenish 
 the psalm.' 
 
 " And ... in God's house . . . for evermore 
 my . . . hoo dis 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 ? 
 
 " 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, 
 
3 o8 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 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 wait- 
 in' for ye, an' a'll sune be asleep." 
 
 The grey 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 re- 
 main 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 con- 
 tinued 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 
 
310 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 passing gusts that powdered your coat with 
 white, and the sun was shining on one of those 
 winter landscapes no townsman can imagine 
 and no countryman 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 farm-houses, 
 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 black 
 peat bogs with a thin, treacherous crust. Be- 
 yond, 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 holi- 
 ness 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 
 
THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN 311 
 
 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 sicht ; 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', an' 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', for a* 
 never jidged the waur o' him for his titch of 
 rochness — guid trees hae gnarled bark — but he 
 thocht ower little o' himsel. 
 
 11 Noo, gin a' hed asked him hoo mony fouk 
 
3 i2 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 wud come tae his beerial, he wud hae said, 
 * They 'ill be Drumsheugh an' yersel', an' may- 
 be twa or three neeburs besides the minister,' 
 an' the fact is that nae man in oor time wud 
 hae sic a githerin' if it werena for the storm. 
 
 " Ye see," said Jamie, who had been count- 
 ing 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 pro- 
 ceeded to review 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 reduction of fifty through 
 stress of weather. 
 
 Drumsheugh was acknowledged as chief 
 mourner by the Glen, and received us at the 
 gate with a labored attempt at everyday man- 
 ners. 
 
 " 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 
 
THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN 313 
 
 front door yestreen, for it wud hae been 
 drifted up again before morning. We've clear- 
 ed 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 themsels at the fire, an' no withoot 
 need ; ane of them gied ower the head in a 
 drift, and his neeburs hed tae pu' him oot. 
 
 " It took them a gude fower oors tae get 
 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 disappeared — "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 
 behind the doctor's cottage, taking three feet 
 at a stride, and carrying long staffs in their 
 hands. 
 
314 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 " 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, Chairlie ? a'm no sae 
 weel acquant wi' the hill on this side, an' there 
 wes 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 ma 
 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 fording 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 MOURNING OF THE GLEN 315 
 
 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 'ill hae the beerial he de- 
 serves 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 
 minister noo, Drumsheugh. A'body's here ex- 
 cept 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 be ony 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 something at the turning an* it's no 
 
316 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 fouk ; it's a machine o' some kind or ither— 
 maybe a bread cart that's focht its wy up." 
 
 "Na, it's no that; there's twa 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 sug- 
 gested, " 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 Drums- 
 heugh 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 an' low," was Jamie's husky apology ; " tae 
 think o' them fechtin' their wy doon frae Glen 
 Urtach, and toiling roond frae the heich Glen, 
 an' his lordship driving through the drifts a* 
 the road frae Muirtown, juist tae honour Wee- 
 lum MacLure's beerial. 
 
 " It's nae ceremony the day, ye may lippen 
 
THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN 317 
 
 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 wrastled 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 gith- 
 ered 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." 
 
 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 
 
318 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 up between two rows of farmers, and Drums- 
 heugh 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 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 snow drifts 
 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 hun- 
 
THE DRUMTOCHTV WRICHT IN HIS SHOP 
 
THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN 319 
 
 dred men such as for strength and gravity you 
 could hardly have matched in Scotland — stand- 
 ing 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 grey- 
 headed between the two old men, replied : 
 
 " We thank you, Dr. Davidson, for your 
 thoughtfulness ; but he endured many a storm 
 in our service, and we are not afraid of a few 
 minutes' cold at his funeral." 
 
 A look flashed round the stern faces, and 
 was reflected from the minister, who seemed to 
 stand higher. 
 
 His prayer, we noticed with critical apprecia- 
 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. 
 
320 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 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 
 speaking, 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 Mitchell'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 remem- 
 brance. 
 
 " 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 yersel, wricht," said the 
 
THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN 321 
 
 man from Glen Urtach ; " the'll be nae change 
 in the cairryin' the day," and Tammas was 
 thankful some one 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 
 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 vic- 
 tor, 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 
 neighbour. 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 him- 
 self for Jess, and took her to his farm. Saun- 
 ders made a bed for her with soft, dry straw, 
 and prepared for her supper such things as 
 
322 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 horses love. Jess would neither take food nor 
 rest, but moved uneasily in her stall, and seemed 
 to be waiting for some one that never came. 
 No man knows what a horse or a dog under- 
 stands 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 round 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 jour- 
 ney. 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 wes 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 trouble. When Drumsheugh went 
 to the stable on Monday morning, a week 
 after Dr. MacLure fell on sleep, Jess was rest- 
 ing at last, but her eyes were open and her 
 face turned to the door. 
 
WOMEN STANDING AT THE DOOR 
 
THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN 323 
 
 " 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 
 whiteness 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 funer- 
 als. 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 be- 
 tween his cottage and the kirkyard, and it had 
 been cut early that morning. 
 
3 2 4 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 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." 
 
 But 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 beau- 
 tiful 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 dis- 
 appeared behind the others, so that Drums- 
 heugh could hardly find him to take a cord. 
 For these were the eight that buried Dr. Mac- 
 Lure — Lord Kilspindie at tne head as landlord 
 and Drumsheugh at the feet as his friend ; the 
 
THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN 325 
 
 two ministers of the parish came first on the 
 right and left ; then Burnbrae and Hillocks of 
 the farmers, and Saunders and Tammas for the 
 plowmen. 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 remains of one that served this 
 Glen with a devotion that has known no re- 
 serve, 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 forgotten while one 
 
326 A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
 
 of us lives, and I pray that all doctors every- 
 where may share his spirit. If it be your 
 pleasure, 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 
 doctor, " for your presence with us in our sor- 
 row and your tribute to the memory of Wil- 
 liam 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 
 virtues, an* he did his wark weel, but it wes a 
 peety he didna mak mair profession o' relee- 
 gion." 
 
 " 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; 
 
THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN 327 
 
 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 Wil- 
 liam MacLure that will not be expecting it." 
 
 "What is't, Lachlan?" asked Jamie Soutar, 
 eagerly. 
 
 The old man, now very feeble, stood in the 
 middle 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/ " 
 
y Cl564<J7