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diff --git a/43727-0.txt b/43727-0.txt index daacc4f..a6b79ef 100644 --- a/43727-0.txt +++ b/43727-0.txt @@ -1,26 +1,4 @@ -Project Gutenberg's His Majesty Baby and Some Common People, by Ian MacLaren - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: His Majesty Baby and Some Common People - -Author: Ian MacLaren - -Release Date: September 15, 2013 [EBook #43727] -Last Updated: March 1, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIS MAJESTY BABY *** - - - +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43727 *** Produced by David Widger @@ -4905,358 +4883,4 @@ sight when the day broke and the shadows fled away. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: His Majesty Baby and Some Common People - -Author: Ian MacLaren - -Release Date: September 15, 2013 [EBook #43727] -Last Updated: March 1, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIS MAJESTY BABY *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - - -HIS MAJESTY BABY AND SOME COMMON PEOPLE - -By Ian MacLaren - -1902 - -To Andrew Carnegie, - -The Munificent Benefactor Of - -Scots Students - - - - -I.--HIS MAJESTY BABY - -UNTIL the a'bus stopped and the old gentleman entered, we had been a -contented and genial company, travelling from a suburb into the city in -high, good fellowship, and our absolute monarch was Baby. His mother -was evidently the wife of a well-doing artisan, a wise-looking, capable, -bonnie young woman; and Baby was not a marvel of attire, nor could he -be called beautiful. He was dressed after a careful, tidy, comfortable -fashion, and he was a clear-skinned, healthy child; that is all you -would have noticed had you met the two on the street. In a'bus where -there is nothing to do for forty minutes except stare into one another's -faces, a baby has the great chance of his life, and this baby was -made to seize it. He was not hungry, and there were no pins about his -clothes, and nobody had made him afraid, and he was by nature a human -soul. So he took us in hand one by one, till he had reduced us all to a -state of delighted subjection, to the pretended scandal and secret -pride of his mother. His first conquest was easy, and might have been -discounted, for against such an onset there was no power of resistance -in the elderly woman opposite--one of the lower middles, fearfully -stout, and of course a grandmother. He simply looked at her--if he -smiled, that was thrown in--for, without her knowledge, her arms had -begun to shape for his reception--so often had children lain on that -ample resting-place. “Bless 'is little 'eart; it do me good to see him.” - No one cared to criticize the words, and we remarked to ourselves how -the expression changes the countenance. Not heavy and red, far less -dull, the proper adjective for the face is motherly. The next passenger, -just above Grannie, is a lady, young and pretty, and a mother? Of -course; did you not see her look Baby over, as an expert at her -sharpest, before she grows old and is too easily satisfied? Will she -approve, or is there something wrong which male persons and grandmothers -cannot detect? The mother is conscious of inspection, and adjusts a -ribbon His Majesty had tossed aside--one of his few decorations which -he wore on parade for the good of the public and his own glory--and then -she meekly awaited approval. For a moment we were anxious, but that was -our foolishness, for in half a minute the lady's face relaxed, and she -passed Baby. She leant forward and asked questions, and we overheard -scraps of technical detail: “My first... fourteen months... six teeth... -always well.” Baby was bored, and apologised to the'bus. “Mothers, you -know--this is the way they go on; but what a lot they do for us! so we -must be patient.” Although rank outsiders--excluded from the rites of -the nursery--yet we made no complaint, but were rather pleased at this -conference. One was a lady, the other a working woman; they had not -met before, they were not likely to meet again, but they had forgotten -strangeness and differences in the common bond of motherhood. Opposite -me a priest was sitting and saying his office, but at this point his -eye fell on the mothers, and I thought his lips shaped the words “Sancta -Maria” before he went on with the appointed portion, but that may have -been my fancy. The'bus will soon be dropping into poetry. Let us be -serious and stare before us, as becometh well-bred English people. - -Baby has wearied of inaction, and has begun another campaign, and -my heart sinks, for this time he courts defeat; On the other side of -Grannie and within Baby's sphere of influence was a man about whose -profession there could be little doubt, even if he had not a bag on his -knee and were not reading from a parchment document. After a long and -serious consideration of the lawyer's clear-cut, clean-shaven, bloodless -face, Baby leant forward and tapped gently on the deed, and then, when -the keen face looked up in quick inquiry, Baby replied with a smile -of roguish intelligence, as if to say, “Full of big words as long as -myself, but quite useless; it could all have been said in a sentence, -as you and I know quite well; by the way, that parchment would make an -excellent drum; do you mind me? A tune has just come into my head.” - -The lawyer, of course, drew away the deed, and frowned at the insolence -of the thing? No, he did not--there is a soul in lawyers, if you know -how to find it. He smiled. Well, it was not a first-rate smile, but -I swear that it was genuine, and the next time he did it better, and -afterwards it spread all over his face and lighted up his eyes. He had -never been exposed in such a genial, irresistible way before, and so he -held the drum, and Baby played a variation on “Rule Britannia” with much -spirit, while grannie appealed for applause. - -“If 'e don't play as well as the band in 'yde Park of a Sunday.” - -After a well deserved rest of forty seconds, during which we wagged our -heads in wonder, Baby turned his attention to his right-hand neighbour, -and for the balance of the minute examined her with compassion. An old -maid without question, with her disposition written on the thin, tightly -drawn lips, and the hard, grey eyes. None of us would care to trifle -with... Will he dare?... if he has not! That was his chief stroke of -genius, and it deserved success--when, with an expression of unaffected -pity, he put out his soft, dimpled hand and gently stroked her cheek. -“Poor thing, all alone, 'lone, 'lone,” he cooed in her ear, as if to say -with liquid baby speech, “I'm so solly, solly, solly, so velly, velly, -velly solly.” Did I say that her eyes were tender and true enough to -win a man's heart and keep it, and that her lips spoke of patience and -gentleness? If I did not, I repair my neglect. She must have been a -beautiful woman in her youth--no, no, to-day, just when she inclines -her head ever so slightly, and Baby strokes her cheek again, and cooes, -“Pretty, pretty, pretty, and so velly, velly, velly good.” Was not that -a lovely flush on her cheek?--oh, the fool of a man who might have had -that love. She opens a neat little bag, and as this was an imperial -incident we watched without shame. Quite so; she is to be away all -day, and has got a frugal luncheon, and--it's all she can do in return. -Perhaps he cannot eat it. I don't know, nor does she; that's the pity of -it, poor soul, baby-ways are a mystery to her; but would he refuse that -biscuit? Not he; he makes an immense to do over it, and shows it to his -mother and all his loyal subjects; and he was ready to be kissed, but -she did not like to kiss him. Peace be with thy shy, modest soul, the -Christ-child come into thine heart! - -Two passengers on Baby's left had endured these escapades with patient -and suffering dignity. When a boy is profoundly conscious that he -is--well, a man--and yet a blind and unfeeling world conspires to treat -him as--well, a child--he must protect himself and assert his position. -Which he does, to the delight of everybody with any sense of humour, by -refusing indignantly to be kissed by his mother--or at least sisters--in -public, by severely checking any natural tendency to enthusiasm about -anything except sport, by allowing it to be understood that he has -exhausted the last remaining pleasure and is fairly burnt out. Dear boy, -and all the time ready to run a mile to see a cavalry regiment drill, -and tormented by a secret hankering after the Zoological Gardens. These -two had been nice little chaps two years ago, and would be manly -fellows two years hence. Meanwhile they were provoking, and required -chastisement or regeneration. Baby was to them a “kid,” to be treated -with contempt, and when in a paroxysm of delight over the folly of a -law paper he had tilted one of the young men's hats, that blase ancient -replaced it in position with a bored and weary air. How Baby had taken -in the situation I cannot guess, but he had his mind on the lads, and -suddenly, while they were sustaining an elaborate unconcern, he flung -himself back and crowed--yes, joyfully crowed--with rosy, jocund -countenance in the whites of the eyes of the two solemnities. One raised -his eyebrows, and the other looked at the roof in despair; but I had -hopes, and who could resist this bubbling, chortling mirth? Next minute -one chuckles joyfully, and the other tickles Baby just at the right spot -below the chin--has a baby at home after all, and loves it--declaring -aloud that he is “a jolly little beggar.” Those boys are all right; -there is a sound heart below the little affectations, and they are going -to be men. - -This outburst of His Majesty cheered us all mightily, and a young woman -at the top of the'bus catching his eye, waved her hand to him, with -a happy smile. Brown glove, size six and a quarter, perhaps six, much -worn, and jacket also not of yesterday; but everything is well made, -and in perfect taste. Milk-white teeth, hazel eyes. Grecian nose, what a -winsome girl!--and let me see, she takes off a glove--yes, is wearing -an engagement ring: a lucky fellow, for she must be good with those eyes -and that merry smile. Daughter of a doctor or clergyman who died before -he could provide for his family; a teacher, one guesses, and to-day -off duty, going to meet her fiancé in the city; and then the three--her -mother, that dear woman with hair turning grey--will go upon the river, -and come home in the sweet summer evening, full of content. As soon as -he gets a rise in the office they will marry, and she will also have her -gift, as every woman should. But where am I now?--let that Baby bear the -blame. - -We had one vacant place, and that was how the old gentleman intruded on -our peace; but let me make every excuse for him. It is aggravating to -stand on the edge of the pavement and wave your umbrella ostentatiously -to a'bus which passes you and draws up fifteen yards ahead, to make your -dangerous way along a slippery street with hansoms bent upon your life, -to be ordered to “hurry up,” by an impatient conductor and ignominiously -hauled on to a moving 'bus. For an elderly man of military appearance and -short temper it was not soothing, and he might have been excused a word -or two, but he distinctly exceeded. - -He insisted in language of great directness and simplicity that the -conductor had seen him all the time; that if he didn't he ought to have -been looking; that he--the Colonel--was not a fox-terrier to run after -a'bus in the mud; that the conductor was an impertinent scoundrel, and -that he would have him dismissed, with other things and words unworthy -even of a retired Anglo-Indian. The sympathy of the'bus did not go out -to him, and when he forced himself in between the lawyer and Grannie, -and, leaning forward with his hands on his cane, glared at us -impartially, relations were strained. A cut on his left cheek and a -bristly white moustache, half hiding, half concealing a cruel mouth, did -not commend the new passenger to a peaceable company. Baby regarded the -old man with sad attention, pained at his unlicensed talk, but full -of charity, and at last he indicates that his fancy is to examine the -silver head of the Colonel's cane. The Colonel, after two moments' -hesitation, removes his hands and gives full liberty. On second -thoughts, he must have got that cut in some stiff fight; wonder whether -he is a V.G. Baby moves the cane back and forwards to a march of his own -devising--the Colonel actively assisting. Now that I see it in a proper -light, his moustache is soft and sets off the face excellently. Had it -not been the cut puckering the corner of the upper lip, that would have -been a very sweet mouth for a man, or even for a woman. Baby is not -lifted above all human weaknesses--preserve us from perfect people--and -he indicates a desire to taste as well as handle the silver head. The -Colonel is quite agreeable--the most good-natured man you could meet in -a day's journey. But Baby's guardian objects, and history warns us of -the dangers which beset a collision between an absolute monarch and his -faithful Commons. We were all concerned, but the crisis is safe in -the Colonel's hands. He thrusts his hand within the tightly-buttoned -frock-coat and produces a gold hunting-watch--crested, did you notice, -and... yes, just what every father has done for his baby since watches -were invented--before that a fist served the purpose--he blew, the lid -flew open. Baby blew, and the lid flew open faster and farther. Grannie -would like to know whether any baby could have done the trick better, -but there was no use asking us. “Reminds me of my boy at that age... -Bailed on frontier last year.” Is much ashamed of this confidence, and -we all look unconscious. What a fine, simple old fellow he is! - -“Saved up, has he”--the Colonel is speaking to the mother--“to give Baby -and you a week at Ramsgate?... he's the right sort, your husband... it's -for Baby, not for you, to get him some fol-de-rol, you know... he's done -a lot of good to a crusty old chap.”... The conductor has taken in the -scene with huge delight, and closes it just at the right point. “Your -club, General; just wait till the'bus stops.... Can ye get near the -kerb, Bill? Now, that's right, take care, sir, plenty of time... Oh, -that was nothing, might'ave seen you sooner... thank ye, I do smoke at a -time... Mornin', General; all right, Bill.” The Colonel was standing -on the broad top step of the “Veteran's” smiling and waving his hand; -the'bus waved back, and the conductor touched his cap. “A gentleman -every inch; cads ain't mide that wy,” and Baby danced for sheer -Christian joy, since there is no victory like Love. - - - - -II.--NEWS OF A FAMOUS VICTORY - - -HE had been talking that morning at the Office of the siege of -Ladysmith, for six relatives of the family were at the front, three -with Sir George White in the besieged place, and three with Sir Redvers -Buller, fighting for their deliverance. Word had come to the house the -night before that Ladysmith might be relieved any hour, and every -one knew that unless help came speedily, the garrison would have to -surrender. Duty took me to Cambridge that day, and I had gone upstairs -to get ready, and coming down again I heard a shout in the hall as -if something had happened, but it did not occur to me what it was. My -hostess was speaking excitedly somewhere, and I could not catch what she -was saying. Servants had rushed out from bedrooms and other places, and -were standing on the breakfast-table in a house near the War landings. -As I reached the hall the butler, a most stately personage, broke forth -from his quarters and rushed past me carrying his coat on his arm, and -then in his shirt sleeves, having forgotten to put on his coat, and -without a hat--he will likely deny this, but he was a spectacle for gods -and men--he ran, yes, he who was intended by nature to be an archbishop, -ran across the square. Then I understood, and turned to a footman, who -looked as if he would like to follow the butler. - -“Ladysmith,” was all I said. - -“Yes,” he cried; “word come, War Office, sent here, butler gone, make -sure”; then he went out to the doorstep to catch the first sight of the -returning butler. Meanwhile my hostess had come down to the hall, and -there had gathered the household of all kinds and degrees--my host and -the other guests had gone out--housemaids, ladies' maids, kitchen-maids, -footmen, her majesty the cook, and every other person beneath the roof, -high and low, and we were all trembling lest there had been some mistake -in the message, and the news was not true. The butler came across St. -James's Square, and when he saw us standing--forgetting himself again, -but now he had his coat on--he waved triumphantly, and then we knew -that Ladysmith was saved. We gave some sort of cheer and shook hands -indiscriminately, each one with his neighbour, and with two or three -neighbours, and talked together, mingling names of Generals and -relatives, and places, and battles, while the butler, who had arrived -and regained his breath, but not yet his unapproachable dignity, assured -us that the siege was lifted, and that White, and what remained of his -gallant men, were unconquered. - -It was time for me to start, and I told the hansom man to drive round by -the War Office, that I might see this great thing. When we got down -the Press were just leaving with the intelligence, and the first of the -public were reading the news. Each man took the news in his own fashion, -one laughing and slapping his legs, another crying and speaking -to himself, a third rushing out to cheer, and I, why I, being an -unemotional Scot, remembered that if I fooled away any more time, -reading news of victories, I might lose my train, so I rushed back to -the hansom. - -“Is't all correct?” the driver leant down from his perch, determined -not to let himself go till he was perfectly certain that, not only the -straight tip had been given, but that at last the event had come off. - -“All right,” I said; “Buller's army have driven back the Boers, and the -advance guard has entered Ladysmith.” - -Whereupon he whipped off his hat, and standing up in his place, a stout, -red-faced Englishman in sporting dress, he gave a cheer all on his own -account, and then when I got in he opened the trap and shouted down, -“Old Buller's done it; he had a bloomin' tough job, but he's a game -sportsman, and I said he'd do it. And old Buller's done it.” Again he -celebrated the event with a cheer, and we started for Charing Cross. - -Something occurred to me, and I pushed the trap open. “Look here,” I -said, “the people near the War Office have heard the news, but after we -pass Piccadilly Circus you'll be the first man to tell that the siege is -raised.” - -“Right, sir, I'm on the job. Old Buller's done it.” By the time we -reached Bloomsbury he had the whole country to himself, and he did his -duty manfully. As we crossed a thoroughfare, he would shout to the'bus -drivers on either side, “Ladysmith relieved; just come from the War -Office. Old Buller's done it.” Then in an instant, before we plunged -into the opposite street, one could see the tidings run both ways, -from 'bus to 'bus, from cab to cab, and the hats waving in the air, and -hear, “Ladysmith and Buller.” Bloomsbury is a fearfully decorous and -immovable district, inhabited by professors and British Museum students, -and solid merchants, and professional men, but my driver for once -stirred up Bloomsbury. A householder would be standing on his doorstep -in tall hat and frock coat, well brushed, and with a daintily folded -umbrella under his left arm, fastening the left button of the second -glove, and looking out upon the world from the serene superiority of a -single eyeglass. Then he would catch sight of us, and the sound of -something my driver was flinging to the men on a furniture van. - -“What's that?” he would cry in a sharp, excited, insistent voice; -“anything about Ladysmith?” - -“Relieved,” from the hansom top. “War Office news. Old Buller's done -it.” - -Down fell the umbrella on the step, and down came the eyeglass from -the eye, and with an answering cheer the unstarched, enthusiastic, -triumphant, transformed householder bolted into his home to make it -known from attic to kitchen that White and his men had not fought in -vain. - -Round the dustbin at the corner of a street half a dozen street boys were -gathered, and the driver in his glory passed a word to them also. They -did not know where they would get their dinner, and they had not had -much breakfast, their whole stock of clothes would not have been worth -1s. 9d., and not one of them had a cap, but they also were a bit of -England, and this victory was theirs, and the last I saw of them they -were standing each one upon his head and waving joyfully with his feet. - -“See, sir, how the kids took it,” for my driver was getting more -magnificent every minute; “said all along old Buller would do it.” - -Coming down Euston Road was one blaze of glory, and when we swept into -King's Cross Station at the gallop, and my driver saw the crowd of -waiting porters and other hangers-on, an audience as yet unspoiled and -waiting, ready for such news, it was, I take it, the greatest moment in -his life. He pulled up the horse on his haunches, and again stood up on -his high place. - -“Straight from the War Office, as hard as we could drive; it's all right -at Ladysmith--the siege is lifted, and old Buller's done it”; and then, -to crown the occasion, “Three cheers for General Buller.” - -He led from the top, and they joined from below, and so great was the -excitement that when I offered the usual tip to the porter to carry my -things to the carriage, he flatly refused to take it. - -“Hexcuse me, sir, not to-day; I ain't that sort. You brought the news of -Ladysmith.” Which indeed was all my share of the glory of the passage: -the rest belonged to my driver, who was indeed a Mercury fit for the -work of the gods. - -Just as the train was starting a man arrived with a pile of newspapers -to sell them on the downward journey, for the special editions with the -relief of Ladysmith had been got out with vast celerity. It was a pretty -sight when the train stopped at some country station to see the man jump -out and hear him shout the news, while the people, a moment ago stolid -and indifferent, crowded round him to buy the paper. And then the train -went on its way, followed by a cheer, because Ladysmith was safe. At one -station two respectable country women got into the compartment where I -had been alone, and they had been so eager, as their kind is, to secure -their places, that they had not caught the news before the train left -the station. By-and-by they began talking together, and it appeared that -the elderly woman had a son at the front, a reservist in an infantry -regiment with General Buller, while the other was the wife of a -reservist who was with the cavalry under General French. It was hard -lines, one could not but feel, for those women to have a son and a -husband taken away from their homes and peaceful employment, and sent -out to hardship and danger. And it would not have been wonderful if they -had complained of their lot. But no, my heart swelled with pride as in -a corner of the carriage, and behind my newspaper, I heard the mother and -the wife exchanging news from the seat of campaign, and talking cheerily -of critical affairs. Till at last, and quite suddenly, trouble arose, -and there might have been a hot quarrel in that compartment. - -“My man's all right,” said the wife; “he's with French, you know, and -French looks after his men, 'e does. Jim says as 'ow 'is General won't -let 'is men into any traps.” - -“Who are ye getting hat may I ask?” said the elderly lady, flushing -purple with indignation--“talking about traps. If it's General Buller -ye're meanin', hexcuse me telling you, 'e don't get 'is men into traps. My -boy says that he 'ad the hardest job of them hall, 'ad General Buller, and -George, 'e writes and says to me in 'is last letter, 'you just wait and -see if General Buller don't do it'--them's 'is very words, 'you just -wait and see if General Buller don't do it.'” - -The younger woman explained she had been making no reflections on -General Buller, but only had been telling how proud her husband was of -his Commander, but nothing would appease the old lady. - -“I know nothing about French, and I say nothing against French, but I -wish you to understand that Buller is a good old sort, and, as sure as -you're sitting there in this carriage, 'e'll do the job.” - -Then I laid down my newspaper, and addressed the reservist's mother. - -“Madam,” I said, “your son was right, and Buller is a good old sort; -he's done the job, and Ladysmith is safe.” - -We all shook hands, two women wept, but not for sorrow, and a man looked -out of the window, intent upon the scenery. - - - - -III.--A MODEST SCHOLAR - - -BEING a household of moderate attainments, and not being at all superior -people, we were gravely concerned on learning that it was our duty to -entertain the distinguished scholar, for our pride was chastened by -anxiety and we had once received moderators. His name was carried far -and wide on the wings of fame, and even learned people referred to him -with a reverence in the tone, because it was supposed there was almost -nothing within the range of languages and philosophy and theology which -he did not know, and that if there happened to be any obscure department -he had not yet overtaken, he would likely be on the way to its conquest. -We speculated what like he would be--having only heard rumours--and -whether he would be strangely clothed, we discussed what kind of company -we could gather to meet such a man, and whether we ought, that is the -two trembling heads of the household, to read up some subject beforehand -that we might be able at least to know where he was if we could not -follow him. And we were haunted with the remembrance of a literary -woman who once condescended to live with us for two days, and whose -conversation was so exhausting that we took it in turns like the -watch on board ship, one standing on the bridge with the spin-drift of -quotations flying over his head, and the other snatching a few minutes' -sleep to strengthen her for the storm. That overwhelming lady was only -the oracle of a circle after all, but our coming visitor was known to -the ends of the earth. - -It was my place to receive him at the station, and pacing up and -down the platform, I turned over in my mind appropriate subjects for -conversation in the cab, and determined to lure the great man into a -discussion of the work of an eminent Oxford philosopher which had just -been published, and which I knew something about. I had just arranged -a question which I intended to submit for his consideration, when -the express came in, and I hastened down the first-class carriages to -identify the great man. High and mighty people, clothed in purple and -fine linen, or what corresponds to such garments in our country, were -descending in troops with servants and porters waiting upon them, but -there was no person that suggested a scholar. Had he, in the multitude -of his thoughts, forgotten his engagement altogether, or had he left the -train at some stopping-place and allowed it to go without him--anything -is possible with such a learned man. - -Then I saw a tall and venerable figure descend from a third-class -compartment and a whole company of genuine “third classers” handing -out his luggage while he took the most affectionate farewell of them. -A working man got out to deposit the scholar's Gladstone bag upon the -platform while his wife passed out his umbrella, and another working man -handled delicately a parcel of books. The scholar shook hands with every -one of his fellow-passengers including children, and then I presented -myself, and looked him in the face. He was rather over six feet in -height, and erect as a sapling, dressed in old-fashioned and well -brushed black clothes, and his face placed me immediately at ease, for -though it was massive and grave, with deep lines and crowned with -thick white hair, his eyes were so friendly and sincere, had such an -expression of modesty and affection, that even then, and on the first -experience, I forgot the gulf between us. Next instant, and almost -before I had mentioned my name he seized me by the hand, and thanked me -for my coming. - -“This, my good sir,” he said with his old-fashioned courtesy, “is a -kindness which I never for an instant anticipated, and when I remember -your many important engagements (important!) and the sacrifice which -this gracious act (gracious!) must have entailed upon you, I feel this -to be an honour, sir, for which you will accept this expression of -gratitude.” It seemed as if there must have been something wrong in our -imagination of a great man's manner, and when he insisted, beyond my -preventing, in carrying his bag himself, and would only allow me with -many remonstrances to relieve him of the books; when I had difficulty -in persuading him to enter a cab because he was anxious to walk to our -house, our fancy portrait had almost disappeared. Before leaving the -platform he had interviewed the guard and thanked him by both word and -deed for certain “gracious and mindful attentions in the course of the -journey.” - -My wife acknowledged that she had been waiting to give the great man -afternoon tea in fear and trembling, but there was something about him -so winsome that she did not need even to study my face, but felt at once -that however trying writing-women and dilletante critics might be, one -could be at home with a chief scholar. When I described the guests who -were coming--to meet him at dinner--such eminent persons as I could -gather--he was overcome by the trouble we had taken, but also alarmed -lest he should be hardly fit for their company, being, as he explained -himself, a man much restricted in knowledge through the just burden of -professional studies. And before he went to his room to dress he had -struck up an acquaintance with the youngest member of the family, who -seemed to have forgotten that our guest was a very great man, and had -visited a family of Japanese mice with evident satisfaction. During -dinner he was so conscious of his poverty of attainment in the presence -of so many distinguished people that he would say very little, but -listened greedily to everything that fell from the lips of a young -Oxford man who had taken a fair degree and was omniscient. After dinner -we wiled him into a field where very few men have gone, and where he -was supposed to know everything that could be known, and then being once -started he spoke for forty minutes to our huge delight with such -fulness and accuracy of knowledge, with such lucidity and purity of -speech--allowing for the old-fashioned style--that even the Oxford man -was silent and admired. - -Once and again he stopped to qualify his statement of some other -scholar's position lest he should have done him injustice, and in the -end he became suddenly conscious of the time he had spoken and implored -every one's pardon, seeing, as he explained “that the gentlemen present -will likely have far more intimate knowledge of this subject than I can -ever hope to attain.” He then asked whether any person present had ever -seen a family of Japanese mice, and especially whether they had ever -seen them waltzing, or as he described it “performing their circular -motions of the most graceful and intricate nature, with almost -incredible continuance.” And when no one had, he insisted on the -company going to visit the menagerie, which was conduct not unbecoming a -gentleman, but very unbecoming a scholar. - -Next morning, as he was a clergyman, I asked him to take family worship, -and in the course of the prayer he made most tender supplication for the -sick relative of “one who serves in this household,” and we learned -that he had been conversing with the housemaid who attended to his room, -having traced some expression of sorrow on her face, and found out that -her mother was ill; while we, the heads of the household, had known -nothing about the matter, and while we imagined that a scholar would be -only distantly aware that a housemaid had a mother. It was plainer than -ever that we knew nothing whatever about great scholars. The public -function for which he came was an overwhelming success, and after -the lapse of now many years people still remember that man of amazing -erudition and grandeur of speech. But we, being simple people, and -especially a certain lad, who is rapidly coming now to manhood, remember -with keen delight how this absurd scholar had hardly finished afternoon -tea before he demanded to see the mice, who were good enough to turn -out of their nest, a mother and four children, and having rotated, the -mother by herself, and the children by themselves, and each one having -rotated by itself, all whirled round together in one delirium of -delight, partly the delight of the mice and partly of the scholar. - -Having moved us all to the tears of the heart by his prayer next -morning, for it was as the supplication of a little child, so simple, -so confiding, so reverent and affectionate, he bade the whole household -farewell, from the oldest to the youngest with a suitable word for each, -and he shook hands with the servants, making special inquiry for the -housemaid's mother, and--there is no use concealing a scholar's disgrace -any more than another man's--he made his last call upon the Japanese -mice, and departed bowing at the door, and bowing at the gate of the -garden, and bowing before he entered the cab, and bowing his last -farewell from the window, while he loaded us all with expressions -of gratitude for our “gracious and unbounded hospitality, which had -refreshed him alike both in body and mind.” And he declared that -he would have both that hospitality and ourselves in “continual -remembrance.” - -Before we retired to rest I had approached the question of his expenses, -although I had an instinct that our scholar would be difficult to -handle, and he had waived the whole matter as unworthy of attention. On -the way to the station I insisted upon a settlement with the result that -he refused to charge any fee, being thankful if his “remarks,” for he -refused to give them the name of lecture, had been of any use for the -furtherance of knowledge, and as regards expenses they were limited to -a third-class return fare. He also explained that there were no other -charges, as he travelled in cars and not in cabs, and any gifts he -bestowed (by which I understood the most generous tips to every human -being that served him in any fashion) were simply a private pleasure -of his own. When I established him in the corner seat of a third-class -compartment, with his humble luggage above his head, and an Arabic book -in his hand, and some slight luncheon for the way in his pocket, he -declared that he was going to travel as a prince. Before the train left -an old lady opposite him in the carriage--I should say a tradesman's -widow--was already explaining the reason of her journey, and he was -listening with benignant interest. Three days later he returned the -fee which was sent him, having deducted the third-class return fare, -thanking us for our undeserved generosity, but explaining that he would -count it a shame to grow rich through his services to knowledge. Some -years afterwards I saw him in the distance, at a great public meeting, -and when he mounted the platform the huge audience burst into prolonged -applause, and were all the more delighted when he, who never had -the remotest idea that people were honouring him, looked round, -and discovering a pompous nonentity who followed him, clapped -enthusiastically. And the only other time and the last that I saw him -was on the street of a famous city, when he caught sight of a country -woman dazed amid the people and the traffic, and afraid to cross to the -other side. Whereupon our scholar gave the old woman his arm and led her -carefully over, then he bowed to her, and shook hands with her, and I -watched his tall form and white hair till he was lost in the distance. -I never saw him again, for shortly after he had also passed over to the -other side. - - - - -IV.--MY FRIEND THE TRAMP - - -ONE of the memorable and pitiable sights of the West, as the traveller -journeys across the prairies, is the little group of Indians hanging -round the lonely railway station. They are not dangerous now, nor are -they dignified; they are harmless, poor, abject, shiftless, ready to -beg or ready to steal, or to do anything else except work, and the one -possession of the past which they still retain is the inventive and -instinctive cunning of the savage, who can read the faintest sign like -a written language, and knows the surest way of capturing his prey. One -never forgets the squalid figure with some remains of former grandeur -in his dress, and the gulf between us and this being of another race, -unchanged amid the modern civilization. And then one comes home and -suddenly recognizes our savages at our own doors. - -Our savage tramps along our country roads, and loafs along our busy -streets, he stops us with his whine when no policeman is near, and -presents himself upon our doorstep, and when he is a master of his -business he will make his way into our house. He has his own dress, -combining many styles and various periods, though reduced to a -harmony by his vagabond personality. He has his own language, which is -unintelligible to strangers, and a complete system of communication by -pictures. He marries and lives and dies outside civilization, sharing -neither our habits nor our ideas, nor our labours, nor our religion, and -the one infallible and universal badge of his tribe is that our savage -will not work. He will hunger and thirst, he will sweat and suffer, he -will go without shelter and without comfort, he will starve and die, but -one thing he will not do, not even to get bread, and that is work; not -even for tobacco, his dearest treasure and kindliest support, will he do -fifteen minutes' honest labour. The first and last article in his creed, -for which he is prepared to be a martyr and which makes him part of -a community, is “I believe in idleness.” He has in him the blood of -generations of nomads, and if taken off the roads, and compelled to earn -his living would likely die. A general law of compulsory industry would -bring the race to an end. - -Besides his idleness he has many faults, for he is a liar to the bone, -he is a drunkard whenever he can get the chance, he steals in small ways -when it is safe, he bullies women if they are alone in a country house, -he has not a speaking acquaintance with soap and water, and if he -has any virtue it is not of a domestic character. He is ungrateful, -treacherous, uncleanly, and vicious, to whom it is really wrong to give -food, far more money, and to whom it is barely safe to give the shelter -of an outhouse, far less one's roof. And yet he is an adroit, shrewd, -clever, entertaining rascal. He carries the geography of counties in his -head down to the minutest details which you can find on no map, knowing -every mountain track, and forgotten footpath, every spring where he can -get water, and the warmest corner in a wood where he can sleep. He has -also another map in his memory of the houses with the people that dwell -therein; which he ought to pass by, which it were a sin to neglect, -which are worth trying, and which have changed hands. And he is ever -carrying on his ordnance survey, and bringing information up to date; -and as he and his fellows make a note of their experiences for those who -follow after, it may be safely said that no one knows better either -a country-side or its inhabitants from his own point of view than our -friend the vagrant. - -Perhaps the struggle for existence has quickened his wits beyond those -of his race, but at any rate our vagabond is not fettered by that solid -and conventional English intellect which persists in doing things as -our fathers used to do them, and will not accommodate itself to changing -conditions. Our vagabond has certain old lines which he has long -practised and which he is always willing to use, in suitable -circumstances, such as the workman out of employment and tramping to -another city to get a job because he has not money enough to pay his -railway fare, or a convalescent just discharged from hospital and making -his way home to his wife and children, or a high-spirited man too proud -to beg, and only anxious for a day's work (in some employment which -cannot be found within twenty miles). And when he plays any of these -rôles he is able to assume an air of interesting weariness as if he -could not drag one leg after the other, and on occasion will cough with -such skill as to suggest galloping consumption. And poor (but proud) he -only allows the truth to be dragged from him after much hesitation. But -when those lines fail and new inventions are needed for new times he -rises to the occasion. If there be a great miner's strike he goes -from town to town begging money for his wife and children at home, and -explaining the hardships of a miner's life, which he has diligently, -although superficially, learned; and after a war he is a reservist who -threw up a profitable job at his country's call, and is now penniless -and starving, but still unwaveringly patriotic; and if there be any -interest in the sea through recent storm and shipwrecks, he also, this -man of many trials and many journeys, has been saved with difficulty -from the waves and lost his little all. If he calls upon a priest, he is -careful to call him “Father,” and to pose as a faithful Catholic; and if -he be an Irishman, his brogue then becomes a fortune, but if he drops -in upon a Minister of the Kirk he recalls the good which he got when -sitting in the West Kirk of Paisley; and if he be so fortunate as to be -really Scots in blood, and therefore acquainted with theology, he will -not only deceive that minister, but even the elect themselves, I mean -the Caledonian Society. When the vagabond comes upon a home of simple -lay piety, he allows it to be understood that he has led a life of -fearful wickedness but is now a genuine penitent, asking only for the -means of gaining an honest livelihood. He is fertile in devices and -brilliant in execution, without any prejudices against the past -or present, but ever bringing forth from his treasury of unabashed -falsehood and ingenious impudence things new and old. - -Our savage has also got, what I believe the Red Indians have not, -an agreeable sense of humour, which no doubt is limited by practical -details, but is in its way very captivating. What a stroke of delightful -irony it was for a pair of our savages to take a long street between -them, the man begging down the right-hand side, and the woman the left, -while the man told a mournful tale of his wife's death, and asked money -to get her a coffin that she might be respectably buried--he being poor -(but proud) and a broken-hearted widower--as well as to clothe their two -mourning little ones in black for the funerals, and for the woman to tell -exactly the same story as she went down the opposite side of the street, -except that it was her husband she was burying, and she poor (but proud) -and a broken-hearted widow. They took no notice of one another across -the street, and none when they completed their work at the further -end, but a few minutes later they were sitting in the same public-house -together, both wonderfully comforted and affording a remarkable -illustration of the dead burying their dead. - -Our vagabond is a superb actor within his own province, and greatly -enjoys a triumph in any conflict with the enemy. He was one day singing -the “Sweet By-and-By” with such a voice and so much unctuous emotion -that I lost patience, and broke out on him for his laziness and -profanity. For a moment he was almost confounded, and then he assumed an -air of meek martyrdom suggestive of a good man who had been trying to do -his little best for the salvation of his fellow-creatures, and was -being persecuted for righteousness sake. This was for the benefit of a -simple-minded old gentleman who had been greatly shocked at my remarks, -and now, as a rebuke to an ungodly and unsympathetic clergyman and an -encouragement to humble piety, gave the vagabond a shilling. “God bless -you,” he said with much feeling to the philanthropist, and started again -the “Sweet By-and-By”! but before we parted he tipped me a wink over his -victory, charged with inexpressible humour. - -When one of the savages honoured our humble home by calling one day -as an incapacitated member of the Mercantile Marine and obtained -half-a-crown from my tender-hearted wife, partly through sympathy, but -also through alarm, because the suffering sailor proposed to exhibit the -sores upon his legs, I knew that the tidings would be carried far and -wide throughout the nearest tribe, our local Black-feet as it were, and -that we would be much favoured in days to come. So we were, by other -sailors, also with sores, by persons who had been greatly helped by my -preaching in the years of long ago, by widow women full of sorrow and -gin, by countrymen stranded helpless in a big unsympathetic city, till -our house was little better than a casual ward. Then I took the matter -in hand and interviewed the next caller, who had been long out of -employment, but had now obtained a job and only wanted the means of -living till Monday when he would be independent of everybody. He had -spent his last penny the day before on a piece of bread, and had tasted -nothing since. “Not even drink,” I ventured to inquire, for by this time -the air round me was charged with alcohol, when he replied with severe -dignity that he had been a teetotaller since his boyhood. Then I -addressed him briefly but clearly, explaining that the half-crown had -been given by mistake, that we were greatly obliged for the visit of his -friends, that I had enjoyed his own call, but that it would save a -great deal of trouble to both sides if he would only intimate to his -fellow-tribesmen and women when they gathered round the camp fire in -the evening that there was no more spoil to be obtained at our house. He -looked at me, and I looked at him, and a smile came over his face. “I'm -fly,” he said. And then as he went out at the door he turned for a last -shot, “Look here, sir, if you give me a bob, I'll join your church, and -be an elder in a month.” A fellow of infinite jest, and I gave him a -shilling, but without conditions. - -The humour of our nomad is always practical, and when it masters him -it sweeps all professional hypocrisy before it like a water-flood, -and reveals the real man. Certainly quite unclothed, but also quite -unashamed. He had told his story so artfully, with such care in detail -and such conviction in tone, that I did believe for the moment that he -was a poor Scot trying to get home by sea to Glasgow, together with his -wife and four children, that he had obtained his passage-money from the -Caledonian Society, and that he only needed a little money for food and -such like expenses. This money I gave him somewhat lavishly, and yet -not quite without suspicion, and he left full of gratitude and national -enthusiasm. Three years later a man got entrance to my study on the -grounds of Christianity and nationality, and before he addressed me -directly I thought that I knew his voice. When he explained that he had -got his passage to Glasgow from that noble institution, the Caledonian -Society, but that as he had a wife and four children... I was sure we -had met before, and I offered to do the rest of the story myself, -which I did with such an accurate memory that he listened with keen -appreciation like a composer to the playing of his own piece, and only -added when I had finished, “So I did it here afore. Well, sir, ye may -take my word for it, it's the first mistake I've made in my business.” - And he departed with the self-conceit of the Scots only slightly -chastened. - - - - -V.--OUR BOY - - -THE boy must have had a father, and some day he may be a father himself, -but in the meantime he is absolutely different from anything else on -the face of the earth. He is a race by himself, a special creation -that cannot be traced, for who would venture to liken his ways to the -respectability of his father, or who would ever connect him with the -grave and decorous man which he is to be. By-and-by, say in thirty -years, he will preside at a meeting for the prevention of cruelty to -animals, or make enthusiastic speeches for the conversion of black -people, or get in a white heat about the danger of explosives in the -house, or be exceedingly careful about the rate of driving. Meanwhile he -watches two dogs settle their political differences with keen interest, -and would consider it unsportsmanlike to interfere if they were fairly -matched, and the sight of a black man is to him a subject of unfailing -and practical amusement, if he can blow himself and a brother up with -gunpowder, he feels that time has not been lost, and it is to him a -chief delight--although stolen--to travel round at early morn with the -milkman, and being foolishly allowed to drive, to take every corner -on one wheel. He is skilful in arranging a waterfall which comes into -operation by the opening of a door; he keeps a menagerie of pets, -unsightly in appearance, and extremely offensive in smell in his -bedroom. He has an inexhaustible repertory of tricks for any servant -with whom he has quarrelled, and it is his pleasure to come downstairs -on the bannisters, and if any one is looking to make believe that he is -going to fall off and dash himself to destruction three floors below. -His father is aghast at him, and uses the strongest language regarding -his escapades; he wonders how it came to pass that such a boy should -turn up in his home, and considers him what gardeners would call “a -sport” or unaccountable eccentricity in the family. He is sure that he -never did such things when he was a boy, and would be very indignant if -you insinuated he had simply been a prophecy of his son. According -to his conversation you would imagine that his early life had been -distinguished by unbroken and spotless propriety, and his son himself -would not believe for a moment that the pater had ever been guilty of -his own exploits. The Boy is therefore lonely in his home, cut off from -the past and the future; he is apt to be misunderstood and even (in an -extreme case) censured, and his sufferings as a creature of a foreign -race with all the powers of government against him would be intolerable -had he not such a joy in living, and were he not sustained in everything -he does by a quite unaffected sense of innocence, and the proud -consciousness of honourable martyrdom. - -As wild animals are best studied in their native states, and are much -restricted in the captivity of a cage, so the Boy is not seen at his -best in a middle-class home where he is sadly fettered by vain customs -(although it is wonderful how even there he can realize himself). When -you want to understand what manner of creature he is, you must see him -on the street. And the boy _in exedsis_, and _de profundis_ too, is a -message-boy. - -Concluding that his son has had enough of the Board School, and learning -from his master that there was not the remotest chance he would ever -reach a higher standard, his father brings him some morning to a -respectable tradesman, and persuades the unsuspecting man to take him as -message-boy. Nothing could exceed the modesty and demure appearance of -the Boy, and the only fear is that he be too timid and too simple for -his duty--that he may be run over by a cab or bullied upon the streets. -Carefully washed by his mother, and with his hair nicely brushed, in a -plain but untorn suit of clothes, and a cap set decently on his head, he -is a beautiful sight, and he listens to his father's instructions to do -what he is told, and his master's commandment that he is not to meddle -with anything in the shop, in respectful and engaging silence. His -father departs with a warning look, and his master gives him an easy -errand, and the Boy goes out to begin life in a hard, unfriendly world, -while one pities his tender youth. - -The Boy has started with a considerable capital of knowledge, gathered -at school, and in a few weeks he is free of the streets--a full-grown -citizen in his own kingdom, and, if you please, we will watch him for an -hour. His master has given him some fish, and charged him as he values -his life to deliver them at once at No. 29, Rose Terrace, and the boy -departs with conscientious purpose. Half way to his destination he sees -in the far distance the butcher's boy, who also has been sent in hot -haste to some house where the cook is demanding the raw material -for luncheon. They signal to one another with clear, penetrating, -unintelligible cries like savages across a desert, and the result is -that the two messengers rendezvous at the corner of Rose Terrace. What -they talk about no person can tell, for their speech is their own, but -by-and-by under the influence of, no doubt informing, conversation, they -relax from there austere labours and lay down their baskets. A minute -later they are playing marbles with undivided minds, and might be -playing pitch and toss were they not afraid of a policeman coming round -the corner. It is nothing to them, gay, irresponsible children of -nature, that two cooks are making two kitchens unbearable with their -indignation, for the boy has learned to receive complaints with -imperturbable gravity and ingenious falsehood. Life for him is a -succession of pleasures, slightly chastened by work and foolish -impatience. As they play, a dog who has been watching them from afar -with keen interest, and thoroughly understands their ways, creeps near -with cautious cunning, and seizing the chance of a moment when the -butcher's boy has won a “streaky” from the fishmonger, dashes in and -seizes the leg of mutton. If he had been less ambitious and taken a -chop, he would have succeeded, and then the boy would have explained -that the chop had been lost in a street accident in which he was almost -killed, but a leg of mutton is heavy to lift and a boy is only less -alert than a dog. The spoil is barely over the edge of the basket, and -the dog has not yet tasted its sweetness, before the boy gives a yell so -shrill and fearsome that it raises the very hair on the dog's back, and -the thief bolts in terror without his prey. The boy picks up the -mutton, dusts it on his trousers, puts it back in the basket, gives the -fishmonger a playful punch on the side of the head, to which that worthy -responds with an attempted kick, and the two friends depart in opposite -directions, whistling, with a light heart and an undisturbed conscience. - -If any one imagines that the boy will now hurry with his fish, he does -not understand the nature of the race and its freedom from enslaving -rule. A few yards down Rose Terrace he comes upon the grocer's boy and -the two unearth a chemist's boy, and our boy produces a penny dreadful, -much tom and very fishy, but which contains the picture of a battle -swimming in blood, and the three sit down for its enjoyment. When they -have fairly exhausted their literature the boy receives his fee, as -the keeper of a circulating library, by being allowed to dip his finger -carefully wetted before into a bag of moist sugar, and to keep all that -he can take out, and the grocer's boy is able to close up the bag so -skilfully that the cook will never know that it has been opened. -From the chemist he receives a still more enjoyable because much more -perilous reward, for he is allowed to put his mouth to the spout of a -syphon and, if he can endure, to take what comes--and that is the reason -why syphons are never perfectly full. It occurs to the chemist at this -moment that he was told to lose no time in delivering some medicines, -and so he departs reluctantly; the conference breaks up, and it seems as -if nothing remained for the boy but to deliver the fish. Still you -never know what may happen, and as at that moment he catches sight of a -motor-car, it seems a mere duty to hurry back to the top of the terrace -to see whether it will break down. It does of course, for otherwise one -could hardly believe it to be a motor-car, and the boy under what he -would consider a call of providence, hastens to offer assistance. Other -boys arrive from different quarters, interested, sympathetic, obliging, -willing to co-operate with the irritated motor-man in every possible -way. They remain with him twenty-five minutes till he starts again, and -then three of them accompany him on a back seat, not because they were -invited, but because they feel they are needed. And then the boy goes -back to Rose Terrace and delivers the fish, stating with calm dignity, -that he had just been sent from the shop and had run all the way. - -Things are said to him at the house by the cook, who is not an absolute -fool, and things may be said to him by his master at the shop, who has -some knowledge of boys, but no injurious reflection of any kind affects -the boy. With a mind at leisure from itself he is able to send his empty -basket spinning along the street after a lady's poodle, and to accompany -this attention with a yell that will keep the pampered pet on the run -for a couple of streets to the fierce indignation of its mistress. And -the chances are that he will foregather with an Italian monkey boy, and -although the one knows no Italian and the other knows no English, they -will have pleasant fellowship together, because both are boys, and in -return for being allowed to have the monkey on his shoulder, and seeing -it run up a waterpipe, he will give the Italian half an apple which -comes out of his pocket with two marbles and a knife attached to it. If -he be overtaken by a drenching shower, he covers his head and shoulders -with his empty basket, sticks his hands in his pockets, and goes on his -way singing in the highest of spirits, but if the day be warm he travels -on the steps of a'bus when the conductor is on the roof, or on a lorry, -if the driver be not surly. If it be winter time, and there be ice on -the streets, he does his best, with the assistance of his friends, to -make a slide, and if the police interfere, with whom he is on terms -of honourable warfare, he contents himself with snowballing some -prudish-looking youth, who is out for a walk with his mother. All the -same he is not without his ambitions in the world, and he carries -sacred ideals in the secret of his heart. He would give all that he -possesses,--five lurid and very tattered books, a penknife with four -blades (two broken), nineteen marbles (three glass), and a pair of white -mice--to be the driver of a butcher's cart. The boy is a savage, and -although you may cover him with a thin veneer of civilization he remains -a savage. There is a high-class school for little boys in my district, -and those at a distance are driven home in cabs that they may not get -wet in winter weather and may not be over-fatigued. A cab is passing at -this moment with four boys, who have invited two friends to join them, -and it is raining heavily. Two boys are on the box seat with the driver, -and have thoughtfully left their topcoats inside in case they might get -spoiled. There is a boy with his head out at either window addressing -opprobrious remarks to those on the box-seat, for which insults one of -them has just lost his cap, the other two are fighting furiously in the -bottom of the cab, and will come out an abject spectacle. For you may -train a dog to walk on its hind legs, and you may tame a tiger, but you -cannot take the boyness out of a boy. - - - - -VI.--A RESIDUARY - - -I - -EXCEPTIONS may be allowed in theory, at least, but the rule stands -impregnable in reason and practice, that a wife should have the absolute -control of the household, and that no male person should meddle, even as -an irresponsible critic, with the servant department. There are limits -to the subjection of the gentler sex which reserves the right to choose -its acts of homage to the titular head of the family. Can anything -be prettier, for instance, than the deference which women of very -pronounced character will show to their husbands in some affairs? -“Nothing would have given me greater pleasure than to have taken a stall -at your charming bazaar, but my husband absolutely forbids me, and you -know what a tyrant he is about my health,” or “You really must not ask -my opinion about the Eastern Question, for I am shockingly ignorant of -politics, but my husband knows everything, and I have heard him say that -the Government has been very weak.” It would not, however, be wise for -this favoured man to trespass too far on the almost Oriental deference -of his wife, or hastily to suppose that because his word was useful in -saving her from the drudgery of an unfashionable bazaar or the weary -drone of a conversational bore, his was a universal infallibility. This -sweet spirit of passive obedience will not continue if a rash man should -differ from the house manager on the technical merits of a servant, for -he will then be told that his views on all such matters are less than -nothing and vanity. - -No man knows, nor ever expects to know, what women talk about after they -have left the dining-room in stately procession and secluded themselves -in the parliament of the drawing-room; but it may be guessed that the -conference, among other things, reviews the incredible folly of mankind -in the sphere of household affairs. How it will not give the head of -the family one minute's serious concern that the cook feeds her kinsfolk -with tit-bits in the kitchen, provided that his toast be crisp and his -favourite dish well cooked. How he would any day give a certificate of -character to the housemaid, if he were allowed to perpetrate such an -absurdity, simply and solely on the ground that his bath was ready every -morning, and his shaving-water hot, while he did not know, nor seem -to care, that the dust was lying thick in hidden corners. How he would -excuse the waitress having a miscellaneous circle of admirers, provided -she did not loiter at the table and was ingenious in saving him from -unwelcome callers. They compare notes on the trials of household -government; they comfort one another with sympathy; they revel in tales -of male innocence and helplessness, till they are amazed that men should -be capable of even such light duties as fall on them in their daily -callings, and are prepared to receive them kindly as they enter the room -with much diffidence and make an appeal by their very simplicity to a -woman's protecting care. - -John Leslie was devoted to his very pretty and very managing wife, and -had learned wisdom, so that he never meddled, but always waited till his -advice was invited. Like other wise husbands, he could read his wife's -face, and he saw that afternoon, two days before Christmas, as soon -as he entered the drawing-room, that there had been trouble in the -household. His kiss was received without response; her cheeks had the -suggestion of a flush; her lips were tightly drawn; and there was a -light in her eyes which meant defiance. She stated with emphasis, -in reply to a daily inquiry, that she was perfectly well, and that -everything had gone well that day. When she inquired why he should -suppose that anything was wrong, he knew that it had been a black storm, -and that the end thereof was not yet. - -“By the way, Flo,”--and Leslie congratulated himself on avoiding every -hidden rock,--“I've completed my list of Christmas presents, and I -flatter myself on one downright success, which suggests that I have -original genius.” - -“Do you mean the picture of Soundbergh School for Jack?” said Mrs. -Leslie coldly. “I daresay he will be pleased, although I don't believe -that boys care very much for anything except for games and gingerbread -cakes; they are simply barbarians”; and as Leslie knew that his wife -had been ransacking London to get a natty portable camera wherewith -Jack might take bits of scenery, his worst-weather guess seemed to be -confirmed. - -“No, no, that was obvious, and I believe Jack will be fearfully proud of -his picture,” replied Leslie bravely; “but I was at my wit's end to know -what to get for old Margaret. You see, I used to give her pincushions -and works of art from the Thames Tunnel when I was a little chap, and -I bought her boas and gay-coloured handkerchiefs when I came up at -Christmas from Oxford, and you know since she left the old home -and settled with us eighteen years ago we have exhausted the whole -catalogue.” - -“You have, at least”; and having no clue, Leslie was amazed at his -wife's indifference to the factotum and ruler of the household, whom the -junior servants were obliged to call Mrs. Hoskins--“Mrs.” being a title -of dignity, not of marriage--or Cook at the lowest, and who was called -everything by her old boy John Leslie and his son Jack, from Maggie to -Magsibus, and answered to anything by which her two masters chose to -name her. - -“Oh, you have been as keen as any one in the family about Magsy's -present,”--and Leslie still clung to hope,--“but I've walked out before -you all. What do you think of a first-class likeness of Spurgeon in an -oak frame, with his autograph? You know how she goes on about him, -and reads his sermons. It 'ill be hung in the place of honour in the -kitchen, with burnished tin and brass dishes on either side. Now, -confess, haven't I scored?” - -“If you propose to put your picture on her table on Christmas morning, -I fear you will be a day late, for Margaret has given up her place, and -asked to be allowed to leave to-morrow: she wants to bid Jack good-bye -before she goes,” and Mrs. Leslie's voice was iced to twenty degrees -below freezing. - -“What do you mean?” cried Leslie, aghast, for in all his dark -imaginations he had never anticipated this catastrophe. “Maggie! -our Meg! leaving at a day's notice! It's too absurd! You've... had a -quarrel, I suppose, but that won't, come to anything. Christmas is -the time for... making up.” - -“You do not know much about household management, John,” Mrs. Leslie -explained with much dignity. “Mistresses don't quarrel with servants, -however much provoked they may be. If I have to find fault, I make a -rule of doing so quickly and civilly, and I allow no reply. It was -Margaret flung up her place with very unbecoming language; and you may -be sure this time there will be no 'making up,' as you call it. - -“What happened, Florence?” said John Leslie, with a note in his voice -which a woman never treats with disrespect. “You know I do not interfere -between you and the young servants, but Margaret has been with us since -we married, and before that was for sixteen years in my father's house. -We cannot part lightly; did she speak discourteously to you?” - -“I do not know what a man may call discourtesy, but Margaret informed -me that either she or the housemaid must leave, and that the sooner the -housemaid went the better for the house.” - -“But I thought that the housemaid was a Baptist too, and that Margaret -and she got on capitally, and rather looked down on the waitress because -she was a Methodist.” - -“So they did for a time, till they found out that they were different -kinds of Baptists, just imagine! They had such arguments in the kitchen -that Lucy has had to sit in her pantry, and last evening Margaret called -the housemaid a 'contracted Baptist,' and she said Margaret was a 'loose -Baptist.' So Margaret told me that if she was a 'loose Baptist,' it -was not good for the housemaid to stay in the house with her; and if I -preferred a woman like that, she would go at once, and so she is going.” - “When men break on theology in the smoking-room,” remarked Leslie, “the -wise go to bed at once, and two women--and one of them old Margaret--on -the distinctions among the Baptist denomination must be beyond words -and endurance. It is natural that places should be given up, but -not necessary that the offer should be accepted. What did you say to -Margaret, Florence?” - -“That she had secured the dismissal of five servants already within -three years: one because she was High Church; a second because she was -no Church; that big housemaid from Devon for no reason I could discover -except that she ate too much, as if we grudged food; the last waitress -because she did not work enough, as if that concerned her; and the one -before because she had a lover Margaret did not approve, and that I did -not propose to lose a good housemaid because she was not the same sort -of Baptist as Margaret. - -“It is very nice and romantic to talk about the old family servant,” - continued Mrs. Leslie with a vibrant voice, “and I hope that I have not -been ungrateful to Margaret, but people forget what a mistress has to -suffer from the 'old family servant,' and I tell you, John, that I can -endure Margaret's dictation no longer. She must leave, or... I must”; -and when his wife swept out of the room to dress for dinner, Leslie knew -that they had come to a crisis in family life. - - -II - -“How are you, mummy?” and Jack burst in upon the delighted household -gathered in the hall with a trail of loosely packed luggage behind him, -and a pair of skates he had forgotten to pack altogether, round his -neck. “I say, that's a ripping dress you have on. Cusack, our house -'pre,' says yours is the prettiest photo he ever saw. You're looking -fit, pater, but you must come a trot with me, or you'll have a pot soon. -Jolly journey? Should rather think so! dressed old Swallow up in a -rug, and laid him out on a seat; people thought he had small-pox, and -wouldn't come in; four of us had the place to ourselves all the way: -foxey, wasn't it? Cold, not a bit. We shoved every hot-water pan in -below the seats, and the chaps put more in at every stop, till we had -eight in full blast. - -“Look out, cabby, and be kind to that hamper with my best china. What is -it? Oh, that's some really decent booze for the festivities--three dozen -Ripon stone ginger; and there's a dozen among my shirts. Can't get that -tipple in the South. How are you, Lucy and Mary? I've got a pair of -spiffing caps for you; do for church if you like. But where is the -youthful Marguerite? She used to be always dodging round, pretending -that she was just passing by accident. Dinner ready? All right; I'm -pretty keen, too. Tell Magsibus I'll be down after dessert with a -brimming bowl of stone ginger. - -“Hello, old lady! As you didn't come up to welcome the returning -prodigal at the door, he's come down to give you his blessing. It's all -right, Mag, I was only fooling. You daren't have taken your eye off that -pudding one minute, I know. It was A 1; best thing you ever did, and -awfully good to have it for the first night. - -“That gingerbread you sent took the cup this term, and no second. -Fellows offered to do my lines for me, and sucked up to me no end just -to get a slice. Ain't that the tin up there you make it in? Chap -next study had a thing he called gingerbread--feeblest show you ever -saw--burnt crust outside and wet dough inside. - -“There's the old brass jam-pan, Peg, ain't it? Do you remember when -Billy Poole and I used to help at the boiling, and get the skim for our -share? Billy's won a scholarship at Cambridge; youngest chap to take it, -and is a howling Greek swell, but you bet he hasn't forgot that hot -jam. Not he; was asking for you last week. I'll get him here next autumn -before he goes up, and we'll have a jam blow-out.... What's wrong, -Magsy? - -“Don't blub. Tell me who's been hitting you. Is it those two young -fools? The mater will soon settle their hash. Here's my handkerchief. -There, now you're all right, ar'n't you?” - -“It's really silly of me, Master Jack, and I ought to be ashamed of -myself, at my age too, but it was you speaking of next year. I thought -perhaps your mother had told you that... I am leaving tomorrow.” - -“Going to leave us and your home?” and Jack sat down on the kitchen -table in stark amazement. “Where would you go to, Magsy? Why, you nursed -me when I was a kid, and you knew the pater when he was a fellow at -school. Why, you couldn't get on without us, and, look here, this circus -can't be worked without you. - -“If you don't feel fit for the cooking,--and it must be a beastly stew -over the fire,--mother'ill get another hand, and you'll just order her -round and have a good time.” But Margaret sat with sad, despairing eyes, -looking straight before her, and making no sign. - -“You couldn't do it, Magsibus,” and the lad came over and put his arm -round her; “it would be too mean. Didn't you promise to wait and start -house with me, the same as you did with father? and now you calmly -announce that you are going to set up for yourself, and be a lady. Oh, -you treacherous, wicked woman!” - -“Master Jack, I have not a relative living, and I couldn't go to another -place--I've been too long with one family--four-and-thirty years--and I -don't know what I'll do without the sight of you, for my heart has no -portion outside this house on earth; but I must go, I cannot do -otherwise, I must go. - -“You see, I'm getting old, dear, and I've been so long here that -I forget it's not my own house--God knows that I would die for you -all--and I have a temper, and I shall be... a trouble and not a help. -Your mother has been a good mistress to me, and been kinder to me than -I have been to her. I'll pray for you all as long as I live, and I would -like to... see you sometimes; but I must go, Master Jack, I must go.” - - -III - -“It seems to me, Flo,” and Leslie stretched out his legs in the warmth, -“the chief good of easy circumstances is being able to afford a -wood fire in one's bedroom,--that and books. Do you remember that -evil-smelling oil-stove in our little house at Islington? By the way, -did I tell you that I ran out one afternoon last week, when I had an -hour to spare, and paid an outside visit to our first home. It looked -rather forlorn, and so small and shabby.” - -“It was the dearest little house when we lived in it, John,” and Mrs. -Leslie saw wonderful things in the firelight; “and when you were at -the office I used to go from room to room, arranging and dusting and -admiring.” - -“Yes, but you also had the most toothsome evening meals ready at eight -p.m. for a struggling colonial broker, and used to dress perfectly, and -did it all on next to nothing.” - -“Two hundred and twenty-two pounds five shillings and threepence--that, -sir, was the first year's income. Don't you remember making up the book, -and finding we had thirty pounds over; but, then, Jack, we had... a -perfect servant.” - -“Poor Margaret! what an interest she took in our daring enterprise! By -the way, your memory is better than mine, wife: didn't we tell her how -the balance stood, and she was the best pleased of the three?” - -“'Praise God!' she cried, 'I knew, Mr. John, you did right to trust and -to marry, and some day I'll see you in a big house, if God will'; and -then you told her to bring up her missionary box and you gave her a -sovereign, and when she put it in, her hand was shaking for joy. Her -temper has got masterful since she grew old, and she is aggravating; but -I know she's a good woman.” - -“Yes, Meg wouldn't have left us if we had been down on our luck: I -believe she would have seen us through and gone without wages”; and -Leslie spoke with the tone of one hazarding a wild speculation. - -“You believe, John!” clever women are sometimes befooled. “Why, have you -forgotten that winter when you lost so heavily, and it looked as if we -would have to go into rooms, how Margaret wanted to go out cooking to -help the family, and she would have done it had not things taken a turn? -Whatever be her faults,--and she has been provoking,--she is a loyal -soul.” - -“Well, we only had one bad illness, Flo, and I'll never forget the -mornings when I came from my lodgings and stood on the street, and you -told me what kind of night Jack had had, and the days when I toiled -at the office, and you fought scarlet fever at home. You were a brave -woman--without a nurse, too.” - -“Without what--for shame, John!--when Maggie sat up all night and worked -all day, and was so clever that the doctor said she had saved Jack's -life--well, perhaps be admitted that I helped, but she did more than -I could--I would rather have let twenty housemaids go than see Maggie -leave, John, if she had given me the chance.” - -“Margaret always had a temper, Flo, even in the old days when I was a -boy, and now she's fairly roused.” - -“It isn't temper at all now, John, or I would not be so vexed: it's her -goodness which will drive her out in the end, and she'll never know -one day of happiness again. She told me to-night that she was sure that -there would always be trouble between her and the other servants, and as -she had tried to serve us well when she was younger she would not make -our home unhappy in her old age. Jack pleaded with her, and I--I nearly -cried; she was quite affected, too, but she is immovable.” - -“Well, we can do no more, and you mustn't blame yourself, Flo: it has -just been a smash; and if she does go, we must see that she be made -comfortable in her last years. But I wish old Margaret were not leaving -us on Christmas Eve. Jack is very sick about it, and I rather suspect -that he was crying when I looked into his room just now; but he -pretended to be asleep, and I couldn't insult a fellow in the fifth form -with remarks.” - - -IV - -When the Leslies set up house, eighteen years before, Margaret received -them on their return from their ten days' wedding tour in the Lake -District, and she was careful to ask in the evening whether Mr. John -would like prayers before or after breakfast next morning. She -also produced a book of family prayers, which she had purchased in -anticipation of the sole difficulty which is understood to prevent the -majority of male householders from having worship in their homes, and -asked her young master and mistress to accept it from her. So it came -to pass that owing to Margaret there were always morning prayers at the -Leslies'; and in observance of a custom begun when there were just the -three in the little house of Islington, fighting the battle of life -together, the chapter was read round, each person taking one verse in -turn. To-night Leslie divided his time between short snatches of sleep, -when he dreamt of funerals in which Margaret departed sitting beside the -driver of the hearse, while a mourning coach followed with her luggage -on the roof, and long periods of wakefulness when he regarded next -morning's prayers with dismay. Was there a special prayer for a servant -leaving her household after eighteen--no, thirty-four years' faithful -duty; and if there was not, could he weave in a couple of sentences -among the petitions? At half-past six he was certain that he could not, -and was ashamed at the thought that with that well worn prayer-book -of Margaret's before him he would allow her to depart without a -benediction, when he was visited quite suddenly, he declares, with the -most brilliant inspiration of his life. He leaped from bed and lit the -gas in hot haste, as poets are said to do when the missing word to rhyme -with Timbuctoo flashes upon the mind. - -“Florence, please tell me something”; and Mrs. Leslie saw her husband -standing by her bed in poorly concealed excitement. “Where are those -words that were sung at the sacred concert: 'Intreat me not to leave -thee'? I want to know at once; never mind why. Ruth? Thanks so much,” and -the noise he made in his bath was audible through the wall, and was that -of a man in hot haste. - -When Mrs. Leslie came down, her husband had a marker in the Bible -projecting six inches, and was checking certain calculations on a sheet -of paper with much care. - -“Morning, Jack--slept well--not very? That's right, I mean I'm very -sorry, must have been the pudding. Not there, for any sake; sit here, -and, let me see--Florence, where are you wandering to? Take this chair. -Six, seven, eight... seventeen, yes, that's Margaret. Now ring the -bell.” And Mrs. Leslie could only look at Leslie in silence, while Jack -felt that the firmament was being shaken that day, and one catastrophe -more did not matter. - -“We shall read,” said the head of the household in a shaky voice, -“from--eh--the--eh--Book of Ruth, the first chapter and the sixth -verse”; and as soon as his wife saw the passage she understood, and so -did Margaret. - -Round the circle went the verses--Leslie very nervous lest he should -have miscalculated--till Jack read: - -“'And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from -following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou -lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my -God.'” - -Then it came to Margaret, and she began bravely, but soon weakened: -“Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried... the Lord do -so to me, and more also, if ought but death... part...” - -“Let us pray,” said Leslie; and it is his fixed belief that, having lost -the place, he read the prayer for the close of the year and making an -attempt to right himself landed in a thanksgiving for the gift of a -new-born child; but nobody is certain and nobody cared. - -“I ought to go,” said Margaret, standing very white by the sideboard -after the other servants had left the room, “and it would be better for -you all, whom I love, that I should go; but... I cannot, I can...” - -“Dear old Magsibus,” and Jack had her round the waist before she could -say “not” again, or even explain, as she did afterwards, how good a -woman the housemaid was, and how much she would miss her; and as Mrs. -Leslie thought of the days they had been together, the saving the lad -from death and many another deed of loyal, ungrudging service, she -did that which was contrary to every rule of household discipline. But -Leslie could not have seen his wife kiss Margaret, for his back was -turned, and he was studying the snow-covered garden with rapt attention. - - - - -VII.--A RACONTEUR - -“You must excuse me the gaucherie of a compliment,” I said to Bevan in -the smoking-room, after a very pleasant dinner, “but you have never been -more brilliant. Five stories, and each a success, is surely a record -even in your experience.” - -“It is very good of you to appreciate my poor efforts so highly. I felt -it a distinct risk to attempt five in one evening--six is the farthest -limit sanctioned by any raconteur of standing. You can always -distinguish an artist from a mere amateur by his severe reserve. He -knows that an anecdote is a liqueur, and he offers it seldom; but the -other pours out his stuff like vin ordinaire, which it is, as a rule, -the mere dregs of the vine. Did you ever notice how a man will come back -from Scotland in autumn, and bore companies of unoffending people with a -flood of what he considers humorous Scottish stories? It is one of the -brutalities of conversation. What irritates me is not that the material -is Scottish, for there are many northern stories with a fine flavour; it -is the fellow's utter ignorance of the two great principles of our art.” - -“Which are?” - -“Selection and preparation,” said Bevan, with decision. “One must first -get good stuff, and then work it into shape. It is amazing how much is -offered and how little is of any use. People are constantly bringing me -situations that they think excellent, and are quite disappointed when -I tell them they are impossible for the purposes of art. Nothing can be -done with them, although of course another artist in a different line -might use them. Now I have passed several 'bits' on to Brown-Johnes, -who delivers popular lectures. The platform story is scene-painting, the -after-dinner miniature.” - -“May I ask whether you are ever taken in, as it were, with your -material, and find it 'give' after it has been manufactured, like rotten -yarn or unseasoned wood?” - -“Rarely; one's eye gets to be trained so that you know a promising -subject at sight, but then comes the labour. I've heard a man bore a -dinner-table to the yawning point with a story that had some excellent -points in it, but he had taken no trouble, perhaps had no insight.” - -“And you succeeded with it...?” - -“It is, in my humble judgment, as good a story of its kind now as you -would wish to hear, and it bears improvement, which is a good sign. A -really high-class story will take years to perfect, just as I am told -by clergymen that a sermon only begins to go after it has been preached -twenty times.” - -“You have been working on that Shakespeare bit, by the way; I noticed at -least one new touch this evening which was excellent.” - -“Now that is very gratifying,” and Bevan was evidently pleased; “it is -a great satisfaction to have one's work appreciated in an intelligent -manner; perhaps you are the only one present who saw any difference. - -“What I think I like best”--and he tapped his snuff-box in a meditative -way--“is to get an old, decayed, hopeless story, and restore it. -Breaking out a window here, adding a porch there, opening up a room, and -touching up the walls--it is marvellous what can be done. Besides new -drains,” he added, with significance, “the sanitary state of some of -those old stories is awful. You feel the atmosphere at the door--quite -intolerable, and indeed dangerous.” - -“Then you do not think that indecency...?” - -“No, nor profanity. Both are bad art; they are cheap expedients, like -strong sauces to cover bad cooking. It sounds like boasting, but I have -redeemed one or two very unpleasant tales, which otherwise had been -uninhabitable, if I may trifle again with my little figure, and now are -charming.” - -“You rather lean, one would gather, to old tales, while some of the -younger men are terrified of telling a 'chestnut,' always prefacing, -'This must be well known, but it is new to me; say at once if you have -heard it.'” - -“Most humiliating, and quite unworthy of an artist. Heard it before!” - and the old gentleman was full of scorn. “Imagine a painter apologizing -for having taken a bend of the Thames or a Highland glen some man had -used before. Of course, if one makes a copy of a picture and exhibits it -as his own, that is fraud, and the work is certain to be poor. One must -respect another artist's labour, which is the ground of his copyright. -But if one makes a 'bit' of life as old as Aristophanes or Horace his -own, by passing it through his own fancy and turning it out in his -own style, then it is ever new. Then there is the telling! There are -musicians who can compose, but who cannot play, and _vice versâ_. So -with our art, there are story-tellers and story-makers. The former can -suffer no wrong, for they are self-protected, but the latter have never -been protected as they deserve in the fruit of their brains. You will -see at once that, if I am right, the ownership of an anecdote is quite -beyond dispute. The original material is really for the most part -common property, and usually very poor property--prairie land, in fact. -Personal rights come in when one has put capital into the land, has -cleared and ploughed and sown it; then it's his own, and he is entitled -to fence it, and he cannot be dispossessed except on fair terms.” - -“Which would be?” - -“Well, that depends. He might sell to an editor, or he might give the -use of it to a friend. Personally, as an artist of now thirty years' -standing, I do not part with my work; it may be an old-fashioned -prejudice, but I don't like to let it go to the public.” - -“But to a friend?” - -“Of course that is different; still, how few can be trusted. Now I once -gave Higginbotham a very nice little thing of French extraction, but not -too subtle, with just enough body to suit our palate. He beard me tell -it three times in exactly the same form, and I pledged him to make no -changes, for his hand is heavy. Would you believe me?”--and my friend -sat up in his indignation--“he gave it in my presence--but that did -not matter--and left out the best point, which I now think he had never -seen. Life has various trials in store for us as times go on,” and Bevan -leant back again. “Some are greater, some are less, but among our minor -vexations I know none like sitting at one end of a table and making talk -with your partner, while a rank amateur at the other end mangles one of -your pet anecdotes.” - -“Torture, I should think; but isn't it rather trying when people miss -the point altogether or ask stupid questions?” - -“Artists must take their chance of that, and one is careful; besides, -I've distinctly enjoyed such remarks,” and he looked quite genial. “It's -like a painter hearing the people criticize the pictures on a free day. -Once or twice I've got a very happy addition to a story in that way. -After all, the main end of a raconteur must be to give pleasure. -Yes”--and he began to glow--“no art is wholesome which lives for itself -or for a professional class. Art must be a criticism of life and an aid -to better living. No one can tell how much story-telling has contributed -to the brightness and elevation of life. How? By correcting foibles, by -explaining human nature, by destroying cant, by infusing good humour, -by diminishing scandal, by--but I remind myself that a raconteur ought -never to be excited or eloquent. He may, however, be a philanthropist, -as it would appear. Do you know,” with a tone of great delight, “that I -was once asked by a physician to call upon one of his patients, a mutual -friend, and spend an hour with him, as a... tonic, in fact. It was -after influenza, and the convalescent began by asking me whether I would -distribute a sum of money among the poor. 'I'm not sure what I'm dying -of; either peritonitis or pneumonia, but I'm glad to see you, Bevan, -and you will do this little kindness for me'--those were his affecting -words. 'Certainly,' I said, and that led me to give him a trifle from -Devonshire--excellent place for stories--which seemed to interest him. -I only told four stories--for he was rather weak, having had a slight -touch of bronchitis--and he is pleased still to thank me,” and Bevan -nodded with much satisfaction. - -As I looked at him, so filled with the pride of his art, the time seemed -to have come for a question that had long been in my mind. But it was -necessary to be careful. - -“What, may I ask, Mr. Bevan, do you feel about the matter of... well, -you won't misunderstand me... of accuracy?” - -“You mean whether is there any difference between giving evidence in -a witness-box and relating an anecdote. Everything. The one is a land -surveyor's plan, and must be correct to an inch. The other is a picture, -and must interpret nature. The one is a matter of fact, the other a work -of art. Imagine the folly”--and the good man rose to his feet--“if one -should demand to know whether the figures in a historical painting stood -exactly so and were dressed in those particular colours; we should think -the man mad. A story is a miniature novel, shot through with humour, a -morsel of the irony of things, a tiny comedy, and for it there is but -one rule of judgment--does it represent the spirit of life?” - -“What then do you think of one who should certify an anecdote as a -fact?” - -“That he did not know his craft, for if the tale has no merit, then it -is little compensation to tell us it happened; if it has merit, we are -sure it ought to have happened.” - -“And if one should interrupt a raconteur as he approached his point, and -should inquire whether the thing be true?” - -“I am a merciful man,” said the venerable artist, “but my conviction is -that he ought to be shot.” - - - - -VIII.--WITH UNLEAVENED BREAD - - -RABBI SAUNDERSON, minister of Kilbogie, had been the preacher on the -fast day before Carmichaele's first sacrament in the Glen, and, under the -full conviction that he had only been searching out his own sins, the -old man had gone through the hearts of the congregation as with the -candle of the Lord, till Donald Menzies, who had all along suspected -that he was little better than a hypocrite, was now fully persuaded that -for him to take the sacrament would be to eat and drink condemnation -to himself, and Lauchlan Campbell was amazed to discover that a mere -Lowland Scot like the rabbi was as mighty a preacher of the law as the -chief of the Highland host. The rabbi had been very tender withal, so -that the people were not only humbled, but also moved with the honest -desire after better things. - -Although it was a bitter day, and the snow was deep upon the ground, the -rabbi would not remain over-night with Carmichael. Down in Kilbogie an -old man near fourscore years of age was dying, and was not assured of -the way everlasting, and the rabbi must needs go back through the snow -that he might sit by his bedside and guide his feet into the paths of -peace. All that night the rabbi wrestled with God that it might be His -good pleasure to save this man even at the eleventh hour; and it was one -of the few joys that visited the rabbi in his anxious ministry, that, -before the grey light of a winter morning came into that lowly room, -this aged sinner of Kilbogie had placed himself within the covenant of -grace. - -While he was ministering the promises in that cottage, and fighting a -strong battle for an immortal soul, Carmichael had sent away his dogs, -and was sitting alone in the low-roofed study of the Free Kirk manse, -with the curtains drawn and the wood fire lighting up the room--for he -had put out the lamp--but leaving shadows in the corners where there -were no books, and where occasionally the red paper loomed forth like -blood. - -As the rabbi preached that day, the buoyancy and self-confidence of -youth had been severely chastened, and sitting in the manse pew, -curtained off from the congregation, the conscience of the young -minister had grown tender. It was a fearful charge to lay on any man, -and he only four-and-twenty years of age, the care of human souls; and -what manner of man must he be who should minister unto them after a -spiritual sort the body and blood of Jesus Christ? How true must be his -soul, and how clean his hands! For surely, if any man would be damned -in this world, and in that which is to come, it would be the man who -dispensed the sacrament unworthily. - -As he sat in the firelight the room seemed to turn into a place of -judgment. Round the walls were the saints of the Church Catholic, and -St. Augustine questioned him closely regarding the evil imagination -of youthful days, and Thomas à Kempis reproached him because he had so -often flinched in the way of the holy cross. Scottish worthies whose -lives he had often read, and whose sayings had been often quoted from -the pulpit, sat in judgment upon him as to his own personal faith and -to his own ends in the ministry. Samuel Rutherford, with his passionate -letters, reproached him for his coldness towards Christ; and MacCheyne's -life, closed in early manhood, and filled with an unceasing hunger -for the salvation of human souls, condemned him for his easy walk and -conversation; and Leighton, the gentlest of all the Scotch saints, made -him ashamed of bitter words and resentful feelings. And from the walls -the face of his mother's minister regarded him with wistful regret, and -seemed to plead with him to return to his first love and the simplicity -of his mother's faith. - -The roof hung heavy over his head, and the walls took a deeper red, -while the burning logs reminded him of the consuming fire. An owl -hooted outside--a weird and mournful cry--and to the mind of a Celt -like Carmichael it seemed to be a warning to set his house in order. He -crossed to the window, which faced west, and commanded a long stretch -of Glen, and, standing within the curtain, he looked out upon the clear -winter night. How pure was the snow, putting all other white to shame! -How merciless the cold light of the moon, that flung into relief the -tiniest branches of the trees! “Holiness be-cometh thine house, O Lord, -for ever.” And he was a minister of the Word and sacrament! The people -had been called unto repentance, but he needed most of all the contrite -heart. The people had been commanded to confess their sins; it were time -that he began. - -He knelt at his table, bending his head over the very place where he -wrote his sermons, and as he prayed before God the sins of early years -came up before him, and passed as in a woful procession--ghosts which -had risen from their graves, in which they had long been hid beneath -the green grass and the flowers. There remained nothing for him but -to acknowledge them one by one with shame and confusion of face, and -behold! as he did so, and humbled himself before the Lord, they vanished -from his sight till he hoped that the last of them had come and gone. -When it seemed to him as if one had lingered behind the rest, and -desired to see him quite alone, and when the shroud fell down, he looked -into the face of one who had been his friend in college days, and then -he knew that all which had gone before was only a preparation, and this -was now his testing time. - -It was a mighty college to which Carmichael had belonged, and the men -thereof had been lifted high above their fellows, and among them all -there had been none so superior as this man who was once his friend. -Some he looked down upon because they were uncouth in manner; and some -because they were deficient in scholarship; and others, who were neither -ill-bred nor unlearned, he would have nothing to do with because they -had not the note of culture, but were Philistine in their ideas of art -and in their ignorance of “precious” literature. - -In spite of all this foolishness, the root of the matter was in -Frederick Harris. No man had a keener sense of honour, no man was more -ready to help a fellow-student, none worked harder in the mission of the -college, none lived a simpler life. Yet because he was without doubt a -superior person, even beyond all other superior persons--and the college -was greatly blessed with this high order of beings--certain men were -blind to his excellences, and cherished a dull feeling of resentment -against him; and there were times when Carmichael dared to laugh at -him, whereat Harris was very indignant, and reproached him for vulgar -frivolity. - -One day a leaflet was found in every class-room of the college, and in -the dining-hall, and in the gymnasium, and in every other room--even, it -is said, in the Senate-room itself. Its title was, _A Mighty Young Man_, -and it was a merciless description of Harris in verse, from the crown of -his head to the sole of his foot, in all his ways and words--coarse and -insulting, but incisive and clever. He was late in entering the Hebrew -class-room that morning, and was soon conscious that the students were -interested in other things besides the authorship of the Pentateuch. -Opposite him lay the poem, and, after he had read the first verse, his -face turned to a fiery red, and then he left the class-room with much -dignity. - -It had been better for himself, and it would have saved much sorrow to -Carmichael, if Harris had treated the poem with indifference; but, like -many other people who allow themselves the luxury of despising their -fellow-creatures, he was morbidly sensitive when his fellow-creatures -turned on him. For some reason, known only to himself, he concluded that -Carmichael had written the poem, and demanded an apology with threats; -and Carmichael, who had thought the thing in very poor taste, and would -have been willing to laugh at it along with Harris, was furious that -he should have been supposed guilty of such a breach of friendship. So, -being a Celt, who acts by impulse rather than by reason, he told Harris -in the Common Hall that, if he supposed that he had written the sheet, -he was at liberty to do so, and need not expect either a denial or an -apology. - -They never spoke again, nor met except in a public place, and when -Carmichael was ordained minister in the Glen, Harris joined a mission -settlement in one of the lowest quarters of a southern city. - -From time to time Carmichael read greedily of his heroic service, and -the power which he was acquiring--for he had never been haughty with -poor people, but ever with them most gentle and humble. Again and again -it had been laid on Carmichael to write to his old friend, and express -regret for his pride, and assure him of his innocence in the matter of -the squib, but he thought that Harris ought first to write to him, and -then, if he did, Carmichael meant to telegraph, and invite his friend -to come up to the Glen, where they would renew the fellowship of former -days. But Harris gave no sign, and Carmichael had no need to telegraph. - -Carmichael rose from his knees, and opened a drawer in his -writing-table, and from below a mass of college papers took out a -photograph. The firelight was enough to show the features, and -memory did the rest. They had once shared rooms together, and a more -considerate chum no man could have. They had gone on more than one -walking tour together, and never once had Harris lost his temper; they -had done work together in a mission school, and on occasion Harris had -been ready to do Carmichael's as well as his own; they had also prayed -together, and there was no pride in Harris when he prayed. - -What were his faults, after all? A certain fastidiousness of -intellect, and an unfortunate mannerism, and a very innocent form of -self-approbation, and an instinctive shrinking from rough-mannered -men--nothing more. There was in him no impurity, nor selfishness, nor -meanness, nor trickiness, nor jealousy, nor evil temper. And this -was the man--his friend also--to whom he had refused to give the -satisfaction of an explanation, and whom he had made to suffer bitterly -during his last college term. And just because Harris was of porcelain -ware, and not common delf, would he suffer the more. - -He had refused to forgive this man his trespass, which was his first -transgression against him, and now that he thought of it, hardly to -be called a transgression. How could he ask God to forgive him his own -trespasses? and if he neither forgave nor was forgiven, how dare he -minister the sacrament unto his people? He would write that night, and -humble himself before his friend, and beseech him for a message, however -brief, that would lift the load from off his heart before he broke bread -in the sacrament. - -Then it came to his mind that no letter could reach that southern town -till Saturday morning, and therefore no answer come to him till Monday, -and meanwhile who would give the people the sacrament, and how could -he communicate himself? For his own sin, his foolish pride and fiery -temper, would fence the holy table and hinder his approach. He must -telegraph, and an impression took hold upon his heart that there must be -no delay. The clock in the lobby--an eight-day clock that had come -from his mother's house, and seemed to him a kind of censor of his -doings--struck three, for the hours had flown in the place of judgment, -and now the impression began to deepen that there was not an hour to be -lost. He must telegraph, and as the office at Kilbogie would be open -at five o'clock to dispatch a mail, they would send a wire for him. It -would be heavy walking through the snow, but the moon was still up, and -two hours were more than enough. - -As he picked his way carefully where the snow had covered the ditches, -or turned the flank of a drift, he was ever grudging the lost time, and -ever the foreboding was deeper in his heart that he might be too late, -not for the opening of Kilbogie post-office, but for something else--he -knew not what. So bravely had he struggled through the snow that it was -still a quarter to five when he passed along sleeping Kilbogie; and so -eager was he by this time that he roused the friendly postmaster, and -induced him by all kinds of pleas, speaking as if it were life and -death, to open communication with Muirtown, where there was always a -clerk on duty, and to send on to that southern city the message he had -been composing as he came down through the snow and the woods: - -“It was not I. I could not have done it. Forgive my silence, and send a -message before Sunday, for it is my first sacrament in Drumtochty. - -“Your affectionate friend, - -“John Carmichael.” - -It was still dark when he reached the manse again, and before he fell -asleep he prayed that the telegram might not be too late, but as he -prayed, he asked himself what he meant, and could not answer. For the -Celt has warnings other men do not receive, and hears sounds they do not -hear. - -It was noon next day, the Saturday before the sacrament, and almost time -for the arrival of the preacher, before he awoke, and then he had -not awaked unless the housekeeper had brought him this telegram from -“Mistress Harris, St. Andrew's Settlement, Mutford, E.”: - -“My son Frederick died this morning at eight o'clock of malignant fever. -He was conscious at the end, and we read your telegram to him. He sent -this message: 'Long ago I knew it was not you, and I ought to have -written. Forgive me, as I have forgiven you. My last prayer is for a -blessing upon you and your people in the sacrament to-morrow. God be -with you till we meet at the marriage supper of the Lamb!'” - -The text which Carmichael took for his action sermon on the morrow was, -“Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them who trespass against us,” - and he declared the forgiveness of sins with such irresistible grace -that Donald Menzies twice said “Amen” aloud, and there are people who -will remember that day unto the ages of ages. - - - - -IX.--OUR FOREIGN MANNERS - - -IF a student of life will only take his stand in the hall of one of -those Swiss caravansaras which receives a trainful of Britons about -six o'clock some evening in August and despatches them on their way by -Diligence next morning, he will not lose his time, for he will have an -opportunity of studying the foreign manners of his nation. The arrival -of an Englishman of the John Bull type is indeed an event, and the place -is shaken as by a whirlwind. A loud, clear, strident voice is heard -sounding in the English tongue to the extremities of the hall, demanding -that its owner be instantly taken to the rooms--“First floor,” I said, -“with best view, according to the telegram sent yesterday,” refusing -every explanation as to there being none disengaged, insisting that, -somehow or other, rooms of that very kind be offered, and then grumbling -its way upstairs, with an accompaniment in the minor key from a -deprecating landlord, till a distant rumble dying away into the silence -closes the incident. The landlord has reluctantly admitted that he has -rooms on the second floor, better than any other in the house, which are -being kept for a Russian prince, and if Monsieur will accept them for -the night--and then Monsieur calls his wife's attention to the fact -that when he put his foot down he gets his way. One does not, of course, -believe that the landlord said what was absolutely true, and one would -have been delighted had he plucked up courage and shown our compatriot -to the door. But nothing is easier (and more enjoyable) than to point -out how other people ought to conduct their affairs, and no doubt, -were we Swiss innkeepers, needing to make a year's profit out of three -months, we also would have taken rampant Englishmen by guile, as bulls -are lassoed with ropes. Your heart would be adamant if you did not -pardon the poor little device when our national voice is again raised in -the dining-room ordering away a plate on account of an invisible smut, -complaining of the wine because of a bit of cork, comparing the beef -with the home roasts, and enlarging on a dozen defects in bedroom -service to sympathetic spirits right and left, and, for that matter, -as far as the voice can reach. In England that voice will give it to -be understood that it could not be heard amid the chatter of noisy -foreigners “gabbling away goodness knows what,” but as a matter of -fact no combination of German, French, and Italian could resist the -penetrating, domineering, unflinching accent. When that host bows the -voice into an omnibus next morning with great politeness, then one -has an illustration of the spread of the Christian spirit enough to -reinforce the heart in the hours of blackest pessimism. - -Would a foreigner believe that the owner of this terrible voice is -really one of the best? He is the soul of honour, and would cut off his -hand rather than do a mean deed; his servants adore him, though he gives -them what he calls a round of the guns once a week; and the last thing -he did before leaving home was to visit an old gamekeeper who taught -him to shoot the year he went to Harrow. When a good man preaches the -charity sermon, this unsympathetic Englishman is quite helpless, and -invariably doubles the sum set aside in his waistcoat pocket. Upon -the bench he is merciless on poachers and tramps; in private he is the -chosen prey of all kinds of beggars. In fact, he is in one way just what -he specially detests--a sham--being the most overbearing, prejudiced, -bigoted, the most modest, simple-minded, kind-hearted of men; and, in -spite of that unchastened voice, a gentleman from the crown of his head -to the sole of his foot. Certainly he ordereth over much, but he will -take care that every servant has a reward before he leaves--going back -from the omnibus to tip “that fellow with the green apron” who did -some trifle for him last night--and if the landlord had only had the -discernment to have described that accident to him, the driver's widow -would have been richer by fifty francs. - -The blame of our foreign manners is partly geographical. We happen to -be bom in an island, and our amazing ideas about continentals are being -very slowly worn away by travel. It is just breaking on the average -Briton that, although a foreigner does not splash in his bath of -a morning so that neighbouring rooms can follow the details of his -toilette, he may not be quite uncleanly; that one need not hide all -his valuables beneath his pillow because the other three men in his -compartment of the wagon lit do not speak English; that an Italian -prince is not always a swindler, but may have as long a pedigree as -certain members of the House of Lords; and that the men who constructed -the Mont Cenis and St. Gothard tunnels must at least have understood -the rudiments of engineering science. The puzzled expression on our -countryman's face when he discovers that the foreigner can give us -points--in conveyance of luggage, for instance, or the making of coffee, -or in the small agriculture--goes to your heart. It seems to him a -surprise on the part of Providence, and a violation of the favoured -nation's clause. - -Perhaps it ought also to be said in our defence that we are afflicted by -the infirmities of a ruling people. We are not only profoundly conscious -that we are an invincible nation ourselves, but also are saturated -with the belief that we have a commission to govern other nations. Our -talents are mostly exercised in India and Africa, but if one reigns -absolutely anywhere, he carries himself as a king everywhere, and the -ordinary Englishman annexes any place he fancies in holiday time because -his fathers have been appropriating provinces from time immemorial. One -sometimes falls a prey to the Philistine that is in us all, and begins -also to despise what our friend pleasantly calls “all this scraping and -bowing,” by which he means a Frenchman's politeness in little things, -and is tempted to think that it would be better if local government on -the Continent were relieved of a burden of petty rules and a host -of gorgeous officials, and were reinforced by a strong infusion of -downright common sense. One means, in plain words, that if a foreign -district were handed over to an English stipendiary magistrate and a -score of London policemen, its people would learn for the first time the -scope and meaning of good government. - -Many well-doing Englishmen cannot unto this day achieve a single -grammatical sentence in any language except their own, and are free -from all pretensions. Our rector stoutly declares that in his popular -lecture, “To Paris and back, or a Glimpse of French Life,” he did not -cite the familiarity of Parisian children with French as a proof of -the precocity of foreigners, but he can never watch two Frenchmen -in conversation without innocent enjoyment. The sounds they make are -marvellous, but it is beyond question that they mean something, and it -is pleasant to know that persons who cannot speak English are not left -without means of communication. Foreigners, an Englishman remembers, -labour under hopeless disabilities. Little can be expected from a people -whose language permits a sentence--in a scientific book too--to end with -“zu, ab,” and one may not be Pharisaic and yet have gloomy views--this -illustration can be used in the pulpit--about a nation that has no word -for home. One of our French class at school, a stout gentleman now, and -worth £100,000, declares he would never demean himself by any attempt -at foreign tongues, and demands that foreigners should learn English, -“which will yet be the language of the world.” He was recently boasting -that he had travelled a month by the aid of signs, although he does -himself less than justice, for on sight of the railway station he will -say “Bannhof, eh?” to the driver in quite a jocular way, as one by way -of pleasing a four-footed pet. - -Tittups, on the other hand, who reached the confines of the future tense -with Moossy, and who affects culture, is understood to have an easy -acquaintance with at least three Continental tongues in their more -literary forms--colloquialisms he firmly refuses--and is worth hearing -in a Florentine shop. “Avete voi” (Tittups is a little man, with a -single eyeglass, and a voice three sizes too large for him); “ah... what -you call... ah, papier und... ah, ein, that is eine Feder,” goes through -a panto-mine of writing, and finally obtains what he wants by pointing -it out with his stick. He is fond of enlarging on the advantage of -reading Italian, and insists that no translation has ever conveyed the -grander ideas of Dante, although Tittups admits that the ancient Italian -tries him. “Have to work at it, you know; but the modern, a boy who knows -his grammar can manage it. Seen the _Giomate di Roma_ to-day?” Italians -have a keener insight into character than any people in Europe, and -one could almost pardon the attendant in the Mediterranean sleeper who -insisted that Tittups must be a native-born Tuscan from the way he said -“baga-glia.” - -“Gli,” Tittups mentioned casually to a friend, is a test in Italian -pronunciation, and he presented the discerning critic with a five-franc -piece at Calais. - -But why should the average man laugh at Tittups, as if he had never had -experiences? Has he never been asked by his companion, to whom he has -been an oracle on German literature, to translate some utterly absurd -and unnecessary piece of information posted on the carriage, and been -humbled in the dust? - -“Oh,” he said, quite carelessly, “something about not leaving the train -when it is in motion--zug, you know.” - -“Pardon, mein Herr” (voice from the opposite side--what business had he -to interfere?) “but the rule, when it has into English been translated, -shall read------” and it turns out to be a warning not to stop the -train without “plausible” reasons. Nothing is more disconcerting (and -offensive) than to discover that the two imperturbable Germans in your -carriage understand English perfectly, after you have been expressing -your mind on German habits with that courtesy and freedom which are the -prerogative of the Briton abroad. And can anything be more irritating -and inexplicable than to find one's painfully accumulated store of -foreign words ooze away in the crisis of travel, so that a respectable -British matron, eager to be driven by the sea road at Cannes, is -reduced to punching cocher in the small of the back with her parasol and -shouting “eau de vie”--“and he drew up at a low public-house, as if we -had been wanting a drink”--while her husband just escapes an apoplectic -seizure, utilizing the remnants of three languages to explain his -feelings as a Custom-house officer turns the contents of his portmanteau -upside down. - -It is not wise, however, for avaricious foreigners to trade upon our -simplicity, for there is always a chance that they may catch a Tartar. -Never have I seen a more ingenuous youth (in appearance) than one who -travelled with me one night from Geneva to Paris. His unbroken ignorance -of Continental ways, which opposed (successfully) the introduction of -more than four persons into our second; his impenetrable stupidity, -which at last saved him from the Customs; his unparalleled atrocities -on the French language, seemed to precede him on the line and suggest -opportunities of brigandage. They charged him eighteen francs for his -supper at a place where we stopped for nearly twenty minutes, and would -likely have appropriated the remaining two francs out of the Napoleon -he offered, but the bell sounded, and he bolted, forgetting in his -nervousness that he had not paid. The garçon followed, whom he failed to -understand, and three officials could not make the matter plainer. -When the public meeting outside our door reached its height there were -present the station-master, seven minor officials, two gendarmes -in great glory, a deputation of four persons from the buffet, an -interpreter whose English was miraculous, and a fringe of loafers. -Just as the police were about to do their duty our fellow passenger -condescended on French--he had preferred English words with foreign -terminations up to that point. His speech could not have exceeded three -minutes, but it left nothing to be desired. It contained a succinct -statement of facts--what he had eaten, and how much each dish cost; -what he was charged, and the exact difference between the debt and the -demand; an appeal to the chef de gare to investigate the conduct of the -buffet where such iniquities were perpetrated on guileless Englishmen; -and lastly a fancy sketch of the garçon's life, with a selection -of Parisian terms of abuse any two of which were enough to confer -distinction for a lifetime. He concluded by offering three francs, -forty-five cents, as his just due to the manager of the buffet, and his -thanks to the audience for their courteous attention. - -“I am an Englishman by birth,” he explained to a delighted compartment, -“but Parisian by education, and I think this incident may do good.” - -Certainly it has often done one man good, and goes excellently with -another where imagination reinforces memory with happy effect. One had -a presentiment something was going to happen when two devout ladies -secured their places in the Paris express at Lourdes, and before they -entered placed the tin vessel with water from the sacred well on the -floor of the compartment. It was certainly unfortunate that they did not -keep it in their arms till the precious treasure could be deposited in -the rack. Lourdes pilgrims would recognize the vessel even in its state -of temporary humiliation, but there was a distinct suggestion of humbler -uses, and an excited Englishman must not be hardly judged. - -“Here you are, dear,” he shouts to his wife, guarding the rugs; “plenty -of room, and a hot water pan for your feet.” - -They all got in together--two Parisian ladies, who (likely) could not -speak a word of English, and our fellow patriot, who was (likely) as -ignorant of French. And the tin vessel. - -Did they lift it with reverence and fold it in many wraps, and did he -fight for its possession? Are they still describing the wanton impiety -of this heretic? and has he a conclusive illustration of the incredible -folly of our neighbours? Perhaps, after all, they knew each other's -tongues, and then nothing happened; but surely there must have been -circumstances, and I, with a spare moment at my disposal occasionally, -refused to be robbed of that interior. - - - - -X.--NILE VIEWS - - -IF one has only three weeks' holiday, and desires sunshine for his body, -let him spend the time upon the Riviera, where he will get a few degrees -higher temperature and a little more sunshine than in Cornwall--with -worse food and a more treacherous climate--and if he rather desires -inspiration for his mind, let him go to Florence; but in any case let -him understand that there is no place in Europe where one can get equal -good both for mind and body, and no place where one can escape winter. -Upon this matter doctors dream dreams and invalids fondly talk against -facts, for the cold in Florence, say, in the month of February, is quite -monumental for its piercing quality, and bad weather on the Riviera is -more cheerless than a wet day in the West Highlands, since in the latter -case you can get a decent fire during the day, and in the evening -you may have a sunset to remember for life. If, however, through any -conjunction of favourable circumstances, a man has six weeks at his -disposal in winter time (it is not likely he will have this very often -in the present vale of tears), then let him take his courage in both his -hands, and go to the Nile. Suppose he had three months, and were a good -sailor, then he ought to join a P. and O. liner at London, and go the -long sea voyage, for there is a chance, even in December or January, -that he might have summer weather on the fickle Mediterranean, and--such -things have happened--across the Bay. But with half that, time his plan -is to go by the special boat express to Marseilles, and join his steamer -there for Port Said; or, if he be hopelessly in fear of the sea, and -wishes to save every hour for Egypt, to take the Brindisi mail, and -cross to Port Said by one of the two passenger torpedo boats which make -the passage between Italy and Egypt in about forty-eight hours either -over the sea or through it. - -Until it has been completely rebuilt after Western fashions, and -electric trolley cars are running down a widened Mooskee, and the men -have given up the tarboosh and the women their veil, Cairo will always -fascinate a European by its Eastern atmosphere. Sitting on the verandah -before his hotel, and looking over the heads of a herd of dragomen, -guides, pedlars, and beggars, he will see a panorama pass. A Pasha's -carriage, with a running footman in front, and the great man within, -mourning the restraints of European government; a camel from the -outlands laden with fresh green grass; a water-seller with his -leather barrel upon his back; a company of Egyptian soldiers, marching -admirably, and looking as if they could go anywhere; working women in -dark blue, with only their eyes visible, which are said to be the single -beautiful feature they possess; a closed carriage, with two ladies of -a great man's harem; a miscellaneous crowd of sellers of many articles, -shouting their goods, and workmen of many trades carrying things they -have made; a Bedouin from the desert in his white flowing robes, tall -and stately, and a Nubian as black as ebony from up country, with people -of all shades between white and black, and in all colours; here and -there a European tourist looking very much out of place in his unsightly -garments, and a couple of Highland soldiers looking as if the whole -place belonged to them. And if one desires to bathe in the life of -the place, then he can spend a day drifting up and down the Mooskee, -plunging down side alleys, attending native auctions, watching street -dramas, bargaining in bazaars, and visiting mosques; but the wise man -who is seeking for rest will not abide long in Cairo. Its air is close -and not invigorating, its smells innumerable and overpowering, its -social occupations wearisome and exacting, and its fleas larger, -hungrier, more impudent, and more insinuating than those of any other -place I have ever known. When the visitor has seen the citadel--and -sunset from the citadel is worth the journey to Cairo--and half a -dozen of the grander mosques, and the Pyramids and the great Museum of -Egyptian Antiquities, then, although it may be difficult to resist the -delightful hospitality of the English community, military and civil, the -traveller had better start by the Nile for Upper Egypt. - -Nothing surely can be so restful as life on a Nile boat, where one lies -at his ease upon the deck with some book like _Pyramids in Progress_ in -his hand, and watches the procession along the banks of men, women, and -children, donkeys, camels, cattle, and occasionally horses, which -goes on from Cairo to Assouan, and, so far as I know, to Khartoum, and -looking into the far distances of the desert, across the strip of green -on either side of the river, and listening to the friendly sound of the -water wheels which distribute the Nile through the parched ground, and -then standing to see the blood-red sunset fade into orange and green -and violet, while the river turns into that delicate and indescribable -colour which, for want of some other word, is known as water-of-Nile. -The river itself takes hold of the imagination, whose origin has been -a historical mystery, on whose rise and fall the welfare of a country -depends, which carries the fertility of Egypt in its bosom, and on which -nations depend for their very life. No wonder it runs as a blue streak -through the frescoes in the tombs, and is never away from the thoughts -of the painters, for the Nile runs also through the life of the people. -It is the great highway up which the native boats sail their skilful -course driven by the north wind, down which they drop laden with produce -or pottery. It gives them the soil they till, which is rich enough to -bear twelve harvests a year, if crops could be ripened in a month. Upon -its banks the people sit as at their club; they bring down their -cattle to water at it, they wash in the Nile, both themselves and their -clothes, they swim and dive in the Nile as if they had been bom in it, -and they drink its thick, brown, sweet water with such relish that a -native Egyptian resents the idea of a filter because it takes away from -him the very joy of taste, and laughs at the idea of danger from his -loved Nile, which may give typhoid fever to Western tourists, but will -never do any injury to its own children. - -After sugar cane and doora, the chief product of the steaming, prolific -Nile valley is the Fellaheen, who are not the descendants of the ancient -Egyptians, a lineage justly claimed by the Copts, but who are the -Egyptian people of to-day. The Fellah is the absolute creature of his -environment, an offspring of Nile mud, and when he is working on his -field, in the garments nature gave him, can hardly be distinguished -from the soil. He is brown, well-built, enduring, with perfect teeth and -excellent health. His home is a mud hut, with one room where he and his -family eat, and another where they sleep, and a courtyard inhabited by -the livestock of goats, donkeys, cocks and hens, pigeons, and a dog. It -is thatched with palm branches or doora straw, and on the roof the dog -will promenade in the daytime with great dignity, and from the roof, -when the moon is shining, and thoughts occur to his mind, he will -express himself to the other seventy-six dogs of the village who are -on their roofs, and are also moved to speech, with the result that no -European can sleep in the vicinity. Add a few vessels and mats by way -of furniture to the inside of the hut, and build a mud jar on the top -of the courtyard wall where the baby of the family can be put in safety, -and the household equipment of the Fellah is complete. He is very -ignorant, is not very keen about his religion, has no principles, except -a habit of industry and a keen sense of property, and he has not one -comfort or luxury of civilization, and not one political or national -ambition. But he has all the clothes he needs, which certainly is not -very much; he has plenty to eat, and for drink the endlessly delightful -Nile water; he is very seldom cold, and he has sunshine from January to -December, and from morning to night. Thanks to England, he is no longer -dragged away to work upon canals and public enterprises without wages -and without food, and to perish through toil and disease as his father -did, but is now paid and cared for when working for the community. He is -no longer in terror of the lash, and he is not robbed by his rulers; he -gets justice at the courts, and is now being delivered from the hands -of the money-lender, that terror of the East, by the excellent national -bank which has been recently established, and which advances him money -on reasonable terms. We pity him as we pass, toiling at his shadoof, -or coming like a rabbit out of his burrow, because he works so hard -and lives so plainly, and has no books and no vote, and no glass in his -windows, and no cheap trips. But perhaps we had better reserve our pity -for the home land. One does not see in the Arab village the ignoble -squalor of a town slum, nor the dreary, hopeless poverty, nor the evil -look of degraded people, nor the miserable intemperance. The Fellah does -not stand very high in the evolution of society, and neither his wife -nor his child is particularly fortunate; one would not wish to be a -Fellah, but, at any rate, he does not know the pinch of want, he is -on good terms with everybody, he has a ready joke, which perhaps it is -better you do not understand, and a quick smile; he is a well-fed and -contented animal. - -The Fellah can be studied near at hand in your donkey boy, who is simply -a Nile peasant quickened by contact with Europeans. Within five minutes -he sizes you up with unerring judgment, and knows whether he can get -baksheesh from you by annoyance, or will fare better by leaving you in -peace; whether he can do as he pleases with you in the matter of speed, -or whether it will be better to do as you tell him. Once you are on -good terms with him--have learned the name of the donkey, approved the -donkey's excellence and his own, and settled whether you are going to -race or not--he settles down to make the journey agreeable both for -himself and you. He will make jests about every little incident, join -in the chorus of English songs, give information, such as he can, on -antiquities, and delight to teach you Arabic. Suppose you have a long -wait somewhere, and time is dragging, two of the junior donkey boys -will improvise a play. They will get up a fight, and after cuffing one -another in a way that would almost deceive you into the belief that they -were serious, one will knock the other down, and the fallen hero will -look as dead as Rames es the Great. A crowd will gather round him, -lifting a leg or an arm, which falls heavily to the ground, raising his -head, which rolls helplessly to the side. Horrified, they will then look -at one another, and shake their heads; they will cover the dead man's -face, and proceed to carry him home. By-and-by they will have a funeral, -and convey the corpse to the cemetery with wailing and weeping, and -after it has been solemnly laid to rest there will be a rapid and -delightful resurrection. The mourners will turn a set of somersaults -with extraordinary rapidity, the murderer and his victim will give -a gymnastic exhibition, and then the whole company, having raised an -enthusiastic hip, hip, hurrah! in applause for their own drama and as -a genial tribute to the Anglo-Saxon race, will stand opposite you in a -body with the most solemn countenance and demand baksheesh. - -Like other folk, the donkey boys have their own trials, and I am still -sorry for Hassan, who attended me for four days at Luxor, and with whom -I became very friendly. His donkey was called Telephone, and was very -strong, handsome, and well caparisoned, and had, indeed, only one vice, -and that was that he would not go slowly, although the thermometer -stood at 130 degrees in the sun, but insisted on leading the procession. -Hassan had just married, and was never weary of describing the beauty -and goodness of his sixteen-year-old bride, and he was greatly lifted -when I sent home to her by his own hand a present of a silk headdress--I -think at least that was what the silk would be used for--such as I was -assured by a native friend the young women of that ilk greatly loved. -Hassan parted with me in high spirits when I went up the river, and I -promised that, on my third visit to Egypt, which will likely never take -place, I would ride no other donkey but “Telephone,” and have no other -footman but Hassan. And then tidings reached me at Assouan that the poor -bridegroom had been drawn for the army. For thirteen years he would have -to serve, partly in the regular forces, partly in the police, and for -half the time he would be entirely separated from his wife, and perhaps -for it all, and at the thought thereof and the terror of the army, and -the unknown places and duties before him, there was great lamentation in -Hassan's little home. So Hassan is by this time being drilled at Cairo, -and soon will be a smart soldier in the Egyptian army; but up at Luxor -his young wife will be mourning for him, and, alas! for an Eastern -woman, she will be aged before Hassan returns. This is the shadow which -hangs over the life of a Fellah. - - - - -XI.--THE RESTLESS AMERICAN - -MANY Americans were good enough to call upon me before I had the -pleasure of visiting their country, and many Americans have called -since, and no American ever does me this honour without charging the -very atmosphere of my study with oxygen, and leaving an impression of -activity which quickens my slow pulses and almost reduces me to despair. - -It is now several years ago that a tall, thin, alert man followed his -card into my study with such rapidity that I had barely time to read it -before my visitor was in the room. - -“My name is Elijah K. Higgins, and I am a busy man. You are also busy -and have no time to fool away. Four days is all I can give to the United -Kingdom, and I wished to shake hands with you. Good-bye, I am off to -Drumtochty.” - -I calculate that Mr. Higgins spent thirty seconds in my study, and left -the room so swiftly that I overtook him only at the front door. When I -asked him if he knew where Drumtochty was, “Guess I do!” he said. “Got -the route in my pocket, north-west from Perth, N.B.,” and in two seconds -more he was whirling away in a fast hansom. As I returned to my study -and imagined my visitor compassing Great Britain (I think he excluded -Ireland, but I am not certain) in four days, I was for a moment roused -from the state of comparative lethargy which we, in England, call work, -and added six more engagements to my afternoon's programme. For days -afterwards, and as often as I was tempted to rest in my chair, the -remembrance of that whirlwind gave me a shock of new vigour. Sometimes -a reaction would follow, and I humbly thanked Providence, although that -was to write myself a weakling and a sluggard, that I was not bom in the -country where Mr. Higgins lived and was at home. - -Such lively experiences, which I often recall in jaded moments, prepare -one for a visit or a re-visit to America, as a tonic gives a sluggish -person an appetite for dinner, and it is bare justice to say that -one's expectations of American energy in its own home have not been -disappointed. If Americans, depressed by our heavy climate and our -leisurely life, could yet maintain such a level of thought and motion, -what might not be possible to them in their own country, where the -atmosphere is charged with electricity, and every second man is a -“hustler from way-back.” The stir of the New World affects the visitor -and quickens his pulses as he goes up the Hudson and gets his first -glimpse of New York. Your steamer had waited four hours at Queenstown -for the mails, but the same mails were transferred to the United States -tender as the steamer steams up the bay. Little tugs dart about on all -sides with feverish speed, and larger steamers pass with their upper -machinery indecently exposed, as if there had not been time, or it had -not been worth while, to cover it. Buildings of incredible height line -the shores, and suggest that the American nation, besides utilizing the -ground, proposes also to employ the heavens for commercial purposes. It -was, I think, a Texas paper which translated the austere saying, “_Per -aspera ad astra_,” into “the hustler gets to heaven,” and certain New -York builders seem now to be on the way. Whetted by this overture on the -river, one is ready for the full music of the city; and I wish to -pay the compliment with all honesty that New York, with the possible -exception of Chicago, is the activest and noisiest place I have ever -seen, or expect to see, in this present world. While an English merchant -saunters down to his office between nine and ten, a New York man rises -at half-past six in his suburb and is busy at work at eight o'clock. The -Englishman takes off an hour during the day for luncheon at his club, -while the American eats his meal in fifteen minutes. The Englishman -spends more than another hour at afternoon tea, and gossip with friends, -and sauntering about between his club and his office, while the American -packs every minute with work. The very walk of an English merchant, -slow, dignified, self-satisfied, and that of the American, rapid, -eager, anxious--the one looking as if time were of no importance nor -circumstances, and the other as if the loss of a minute might mean -ruin--are the visible indices to the character of the nations. It -is only yesterday that elevators were introduced into English city -buildings, and there are many London offices to which you still have to -make an Alpine ascent of four stairs; but a New Yorker regards a stair -as a survival of barbarism, and hardly knows how to use it. The higher -buildings have several sets of elevators, like the four tracks which -railways lay down to work the swift and slow traffic. - -“Don't go in there,” my friend said, with whom I was going to lunch at -a club on the top floor of a many-storied New York building. “That's an -accommodation elevator; stops, you know, at every station. This is the -express for the top floor.” - -“Would it have made much difference?” I said. - -“Very nearly a minute,” as if the loss of the minute would have thrown -us back for the rest of the day. - -No man goes slow if he has the chance of going fast, no man stops to -talk if he can talk walking, no man walks if he can ride in a trolley -car, no one goes in a trolley car if he can get a convenient railway, -and by-and-by no one will go by railway car if he can be shot through a -pneumatic tube. No one writes with his own hand if he can dictate to a -stenographer, no one dictates if he can telegraph, no one telegraphs if -he can telephone, and by-and-by, when the spirit of American invention -has brought wireless telegraphy into thorough condition, a man will -simply sit with his mouth at one hole and his ear at another, and do -business with the ends of the earth in a few seconds, which the same -machine will copy and preserve in letter books and ledgers. It is the -American's regret that at present he can do nothing with his feet while -he is listening at the telephone, but doubtless some employment will be -found for them in the coming age. - -If a slow-witted and slow-moving Englishman desires a liberal education, -let him take a journey of a month on the steam cars in the United -States. No train in Europe travels as fast as certain American -expresses, and if other trains go slower it is a matter of thankfulness, -because they are less likely to kill passengers on level crossings, or -in the main streets of the city along which they take their way, and -cattle have more time to get off the unprotected tracks. As trains have -also a trick of jumping the rails, either through the rails spreading -or the eccentricity of the engine, both being instances of exuberant -national vitality, it is just as well that every express does not go at -the rate of the Empire State Express on the New York Central. Nowhere -in Europe can a traveller find stronger or handsomer cars, and they are -marvels of adaptability and convenience. There is a dining car, in -order that you may not lose time at a station, and also, which is not -unimportant, in order that you may be able to occupy your time with -something practical on the train. Of course, there is a smoking -compartment, where men can compare notes upon politics and business, and -be able to escape from idleness and themselves. The best expresses -have a reading car, where the American can pick up such morsels of -information from the magazines as he can contain between the interstices -of business. There is a desk where he can read his letters, and -a typewriter to answer them, for this train is the American's -sleep-ing-place and dining-place, and his home and his office. One thing -only he regrets; the train, as it flies along, is not connected with -the telegraph and the telephone, so that, as an idea occurs to him or -he obtains a hint from a man in the smoking car, he might be able to do -business with his correspondents in Chicago or San Francisco. While -an Englishman on a railway journey is generally dressed in roughly and -loosely fitting tweeds, suggestive of a country life and of sport, -the coat of his American cousin is of dark material and has not a -superfluous inch of cloth. From his collar to his neat little boot the -American is prim, spick-and-span, and looks as if he had come out of a -band-box and were ready to appear in the principal room of any office. -He is dressed in fact for business, and looks like business from -the crown of his head to the sole of his feet, while an Englishman's -appearance suggests that he is going to see a cricket match or that he -has retired to live upon a farm. - -My countryman arrives at the station with two and a half minutes to -spare, and laden with small baggage. A porter carries his rug and an -ulster, very likely also a hat-box and a bag with books, papers, and -such like in it, to say nothing of an umbrella and a mackintosh, and he -secures his seat at the last moment. He fastens his hat above his head, -puts on a travelling cap, changes into an ulster, if it be winter time, -and throws a rug over his knee; he puts on travelling gloves, and gets -out the Times, and he will sit without budging and read his _Times_ -without intermission for fifty minutes. Besides these trifles with him -in the carriage, he has a portmanteau in the van, which he hopes has -been addressed, and which the porter promised to see put in, and he will -scramble for it at his terminus along with a hundred other passengers, -who are all trying to identify and extricate their luggage from a huge -heap on the platform. - -The American reaches the dépôt by a trolley car ten minutes at least -before the hour of departure, having sent his heavy luggage, if he -has any--which is not likely--by baggage express. His only personal -equipment is a slim and compact valise, which, in regard to opening and -shutting, is a marvel of convenience. This he carries in his hand, and -places beneath or beside the seat which he has secured two days before. -He does not carry a rug because the cars are heated, nor an umbrella -because it is not the rainy season. His top coat he hangs up beside his -seat, as if he were in his own house; and his hat if he so please. He -does not wear a travelling-cap any more than in his own drawing-room, -nor gloves in the train any more than in his own office. Should his -hands be soiled, he goes to the lavatory where there are large basins -and an ample supply of water, and if his coat be dusty, there is a -negro porter in every car to brush it. The immense repose of the English -traveller is quite impossible for this mercurial man, whose blood and -whose brain are ever on a stir. Very rarely will you see him reading a -book, because he is not accustomed to read, and the demands of a book -would lessen his time for business meditation. Boys with newspapers -circulate through the cars, and he buys each new paper as it appears -at the different towns. Whether it be Republican, or Democratic, or a -family paper or a yellow journal, does not matter to him; he glances at -the startling headings, takes an accident or a political scandal at -a mouthful, skims over the business news, sees whether anything has -happened at the Philippines, notes that the canard of the morning has -been contradicted in the afternoon, and flings paper after paper on -the floor. Three minutes or, in cases of extreme interest, five minutes -suffice for each paper, and by-and-by this omnivorous reader, who -consumes a paper even more quickly than his food, is knee deep in -printed information or sensation. For two minutes he is almost quiet, -and seems to be digesting some piece of commercial information. He then -rises hurriedly, as if he had been called on the telephone, and makes -for the smoking-car, where he will discuss “Expansion” with vivid, -picturesque speech, and get through a cigar with incredible celerity. -Within fifteen minutes he is in his place again; and, a little -afterwards, wearying of idleness, he is chewing the end of a cigar, -which is a substitute for smoking and saves him from being wearied with -his own company. Half an hour before the train is due at his station, -he is being brushed, and getting ready to alight. Before the train -has reached the outskirts of the town, he has secured his place in a -procession which stands in single file in the narrow exit passage from -the Pullman. Each man is ready dressed for business and has his valise -in his hand; he is counting the minutes before he can alight, and is -envying the man at the head of the procession, who will have a start of -about two seconds. This will give him a great advantage in business, and -he may never be overtaken by his competitors till evening. - -Suppose he lands at 6 a.m., he will find breakfast ready in a hotel, -and half a dozen men eating as if their lives depended upon finishing -by 6.15 a.m. Before seven he will have disposed of a pile of letters, -dictating answers to a typist attached to the hotel, he will have -telegraphed in all directions, and made half a dozen appointments in the -town by telephone. Within the forenoon he will finish his business and -depart for some neighbouring town, lunching on the cars. The second town -he will dispose of in the afternoon, and that evening go on board -the sleeper to travel 400 miles to a third town, where he is going to -negotiate a contract at 8 o'clock next morning. If you sympathize with -him, and wonder how flesh and blood can stand the speed, he accepts your -sympathy as a compliment, and assures you that he never sleeps so well -as on the cars. He never seems to be out of sorts or out of temper: he -is always thoroughly alive and quite good-natured. Sometimes he may -seem for a moment annoyed, when he cannot telegraph as often as he wants -along the line, or when the train is not on time, that he may make a -connection. Nothing would wound him so deeply as to “get left,” and he -can only affect to be unconscious when some one declares that he is “no -slouch, and that there are no flies on him.” If he is obliged to spend -two hours doing nothing in a hotel, when business is over, then he rocks -himself and smokes, and it is a wonderful spectacle for an indolent -Englishman to look down from the gallery that commands the hall of the -hotel, and to see fifty able-bodied fellow-men who have worked already -twelve hours, at least, and put eighteen hours' work into the time, -all in motion. (One wonders why this motion is not utilized to drive -something.) He discovers how unlike cousins may be, for an Englishman -never moves unless he is obliged to or unless he wants to shoot -something, and these remarkable men never rest unless when they are -asleep. About that even, I am not sure, and I was often tempted to draw -aside the curtain from a berth in a sleeping-car, and, had I done so, I -should not have been at all surprised to find our friend wide awake -with a cold cigar in his cheek, and rocking his knees for want of more -extensive accommodation. He has always rebelled against the ancient -custom of sleep, which he regards as a loss of time and an anachronism. -All that he can do is to spend the night in a sleeping car, which, as he -will tell you, annihilates time and space. - -Foreigners travelling in the States in their innocence are amazed that -a delicate-minded nation, like the Americans, should be willing to sleep -after the fashion of the Pullman cars, and should not insist upon the -Continental cabin-car. The reason for the Arcadian simplicity of the -sections is not really economy, for no American would ever think twice -of spending a dollar; it is simply their abounding and dominant energy. -If you sleep in cabins at night, you must sit in cabins by day; and -this would mean a seclusion and repose which are very distasteful to -the high-strung American temperament. It would be like bottling up a -volatile gas; and one imagines that it might lead to an explosion, which -some day would break down the partitions and break up the car from end -to end. The American must see everything in his car and hear everything, -for which he depends upon the peculiar quality of the local voice; -and he must be at liberty to prowl about his car, and to sit with his -friends here and there. The car is his little world for the time, and he -is not going to live in a backwater. - -There seems no doubt that an American workman will do from twenty-five -to thirty-three per cent, more than an Englishman in the same time, and -that the higher wages of the American have their compensation for -the capitalist in a workman's quickness of mind and sleight of hand. -Everything goes at an accelerated speed, with wonderful inventions in -labour-saving machinery and devices to economize time. If the great end -of a nation be to do as much as possible in as short a time as possible, -then the American climate has been practically arranged for that end. An -Englishwoman living in the States becomes effervescent, and the native -American is the brightest woman on the face of the earth. While the -English atmosphere is heavy and soothing, and lends itself to thought -and quietness, the American climate is exciting and exhilarating, and -quickens both mind and body to the highest activity. It is an electric -climate, and the electricity has passed into the people, who are simply -vessels charged up to a certain number of volts. These vessels as -sources of motive power can then be attached to pulpits, or offices, or -workshops or politics. Of course, a day is apt to come when the vessels -will have been completely discharged, and it arrives very frequently -without warning. A little confusion in the head, and a slight numbness -in the limbs, and the man has to go away a year to Colorado Springs -or to Los Angeles. If he is fortunate, he can be recharged and run for -another five or ten years; then nature does not give any warning, but -simply stops the heart or darkens the brain, and you must get another -man. - -No one, unless he leaves the country or becomes a crank, can escape from -this despotism of activity; he is part of the regiment and must march -with his fellows. The idea of making a competency and then retiring, -say, into the country, never crosses a man's mind. When you urge economy -upon a man for this end, you have injured your case, and are pleading -on the other side. With such a prospect before him, he is more than -ever resolved to be a spendthrift. To seclude an active American in an -old-fashioned country house, with ivy climbing round its Tudor windows, -even although there should be a library of black oak inside and a rose -garden outside, would be cruelty; it would be to imprison a squirrel in -a golden cage. What greatly impresses the traveller in the United States -is that the rich men work as hard and as long as the poor, and that -they cannot even give attention to the affairs of their country, but -are willing to leave them to the very doubtful management of the “Boss,” - because it would not pay them to leave their business and go into -politics. If the end of life be riches, then the clever American is a -successful man, for in no country does a respectable man become so very -rich, or rich so soon, and if not respectable he still may do fairly -well. You cannot have everything, however, and one notes that the -average rich man has paid a price for his dollars. He has read very -little--his wife reads for him; he has travelled very little--his -daughters travel for him. He has no voice in the State--professional -politicians speak for him; he has no amusements, unless you include -speculation; and he has no pleasant periods of rest, unless you accept -as an equivalent comparatively early and sudden death, which often -arises from acute indigestion. He has not time to stop and realize -himself, unless, but this is a large exception, when he has dyspepsia. -One reason, perhaps, why Americans do not rest is that given to me by a -bright woman: “We are all so tired,” and the American is the victim of -his own qualities. - -One, of course, acknowledges the advantages of this amazing energy, and -there are times when a stolid Englishman grows envious. A university in -America is created in ten years and endowed to the extent of millions -sterling, and equipped with chairs of which a European never dreamt, and -laboratories which border upon palaces. Libraries and picture galleries -are rising in every city, for which the treasuries of Europe have been -ransacked; and, were it not for the restriction of governments, the Old -Masters would have to be sought, not in Italy and England, but in New -York and Chicago. New towns are designed upon a scale of magnificence, -as if each were to be the capital of an empire, and are at least -outlined in building within a few years. Should it be necessary, an army -can be created within a few months, and in a couple of years a new -trade can be established which will kill its European rivals. An English -farmer with fifteen hundred acres is a considerable man, but an American -can have fifteen thousand acres and his different farm buildings will be -connected by telephone. A self-made man in England marries his daughter -to a baronet and is much lifted; but the daughter of a self-made man -in America will marry an English duke, and consider she has conferred -a benefit. When you go to a Western town, you may be taken to see a -university; if not, you are taken to a dry-goods store; each, in its own -way, is the largest of its kind. Certainly, there are stores in America -which have no rival in the Old World, and which you are expected to -visit with the same appreciation as the Duomo of Florence. - -There is almost nothing that the United States does not possess, except -political purity, and nothing which an American cannot do, except rest; -and in the conflict with foreign competition, he has almost discounted -victory. Whether he be able, that is, patient and thorough in the -discovery of principles, may be a question; that he is clever, by which -one means bright and ingenious in turning principles to account, is -beyond all question. If America has not yet had time to produce a -Lord Kelvin, it has given us telephones; and if Professor Dewar has -astonished the world with his liquid air, an American trust is, it -is said, being formed to handle it for commercial purposes. If we are -thought to be dull and slow, as we travel among the most stimulating and -hospitable people on the face of the earth, let some excuse be made for -us and let our hosts share the blame. An Englishman in the United States -is half dazed, like one moving amid the ceaseless din and whirling -wheels of a huge manufactory, where the voice has to be raised to a -shriek, and a sentence compressed into a single word. He goes home -greatly humbled in his estimation of himself, and in low spirits about -the commercial future of his country. He has no bitterness, however, -within his heart, for are not these people of his own blood, and are not -their triumphs his, even if they threaten to outrun his own nation in -the race of productive commerce? And when he comes back to England, has -he not his compensations, Stratford-on-Avon, and Westminster Abbey, and -the greenery of the Home Counties, and the lights and shadows of the -Scots Lochs, and the musical voices of the English women, and the quiet, -contented, cultured English homes? - - - - -XII.--A SCOT INDEED - - -HE had demanded that afternoon to be told the truth, and the doctor, -himself a young Scot, had told him plainly that he could not recover, -and then he had asked, as one man speaking to another, both being brave -and honest men, when he would die, and the doctor thought early next -morning. - -“Aboot daybreak,” said the Scot, with much satisfaction, as if, on -the whole, he were content to die, and much pleased it would be at the -rising of the sun. He was a characteristic type of his nation, rugged -in face and dry of manner, an old man, who had drifted somehow to this -English city and was living there alone, and now he was about to die -alone, without friends and in a strange land. The nurse was very kind to -him, and her heart went out to the quiet, self-contained man. She asked -him whether he would like to see a clergyman, and explained that the -chaplain of the infirmary was a good man. - -“A've nae doubt he is,” said the Scot, “and that his meenistrations -would be verra acceptable to English fouk, but a've never had ony -dealin's wi' Episcopalians. He micht want to read a prayer, and I -couldna abide that, and mebbe I couldna follow the texts in his English -tongue.” - -The nurse still lingered by his bed. He looked up to her and assured -her he was in no need of consolation. “Saxty year ago my mither made me -learn the wale (choice portions) o' the Bible, and they're cornin' up -ane by ane to my memory, but I thank ye kindly.” - -As the nurse went back and forward on her duties she heard her patient -saying at intervals to himself, “I know whom I have believed.” - -“I am persuaded that neither life nor death.” Once again she heard him, -“Although the mountains depart and the hills be removed,” but the rest -she did not catch. - -During the afternoon a lady came into the ward whose service to the Lord -was the visitation of the sick, a woman after the type of Barnabas -and Mary of Bethany. When she heard of the old man's illness and his -loneliness, whom no friend came to see or comfort, she went to his -bedside. “You are very ill,” she said, “my friend.” - -“A'm deein',” he replied, with the exactness of his nation, which -somewhat fails to understand the use of graceful circumlocution and -gentle phrases. - -“Is there anything I can do for you? Would you wish me to sing a few -verses of a hymn? Some sick people feel much comforted and soothed by -singing; you would like, I think, to hear 'Rock of Ages,'” and she sat -down by his bedside and opened her book, while a patient beyond, who had -caught what she said, raised his head to enjoy the singing. - -“Ye're verra kind, mem, and a'm muckle obleeged to ye, but a'm a Scot -and ye're English, and ye dinna understand. A' my days have I been -protestin' against the use o' human hymns in the praise o' God; a've -left three kirks on that account, and raised my testimony in public -places, and noo would ye send me into eternity wi' the sough of a hymn -in my ears?” - -For a moment the visitor had no reply, for in the course of all her -experiences, during which she had come across many kinds of men and -women, she had never yet chanced upon this kind of Scot. The patients in -the infirmary were not distinguished by their religious scruples, and if -they had scruples of such a kind they turned on large and full-blooded -distinctions between Protestant and Catholic, and never entered into -subtleties of doctrine. - -“You'll excuse me, mem, for a'm no ungratefu',” he continued, “and I -would like to meet yir wishes when ye've been so kind to me. The doctor -says I canna live long, and it's possible that my strength may sune give -way, but a'll tell ye what a'm willin' to do.” - -The visitor waited anxiously to know what service he was going to render -her and what comfort she might offer to him, but both were beyond her -guessing. - -“Sae lang as a've got strength and my reason continues clear, a'm -prepared to argue with you concerning the lawfulness of using onything -except the Psalms of David in the praise of God either in public or in -private.” - -Dear old Scot, the heir of many a covenanting tradition and the worthy -son of covenanting martyrs, it was a strange subject of discussion for -a man's last hour, but the man who could be true to the jots and tittles -of his faith in pain of body and in face of death was the stuff out -of which heroes and saints are made. He belonged to a nation who might -sometimes be narrow and over-concerned with scruples, but which knew -that a stand must be taken somewhere, and where it took a stand was -prepared to die. - -The visitor was a wise as well as gracious woman, and grasped the heart -of the situation. “No, no,” she said, “we will not speak about the -things wherein we differ, and I did not know the feeling of the Scots -about the singing of the hymns. But I can understand how you love the -Psalms and how dear to you is your metrical version. Do you know I have -been in the Highlands of Scotland and have heard the Psalms sung, and -the tears came into my eyes at the sound of the grave, sweet melody, for -it was the music of a strong and pious people.” - -As she spoke the hard old Scot's face began to soften, and one hand -which was lying outside the bedclothes repeated the time of a Scots -Psalm tune. He was again in the country church of his boyhood, and -saw his father and mother going into the table seats, and heard them -singing: - - “O thou, my soul, bless God the Lord, - And all that in me is - Be stirred up His holy name - To magnify and bless.” - -“More than that, I know some of your psalm tunes, and I have the words -in my hymn book; perhaps I have one of the Psalms which you would like -to hear.” - -“Div ye think that ye could sing the Twenty-third Psalm-- - - 'The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want'? - -for I would count it verra comfortin'.” - -“Yes,” she said, “I can, and it will please me very much to sing it, for -I think I love that psalm more than any hymn.” - -“It never runs dry,” murmured the Scot. - -So she sang it from beginning to end in a low, sweet voice, slowly and -reverently, as she had heard it sung in Scotland. He joined in no word, -but ever he kept time with his hand and with his heart, while his eyes -looked into the things which were far away. - -After she ceased he repeated to himself the last two lines: - - “And in God's house for evermore - My dwelling place shall be.” - -“Thank ye, thank ye,” he said, after a little pause, and then both -were silent for a few minutes, because she saw that he was in his own -country, and did not wish to bring him back by her foreign accent. - -“Mem, ye've dune me the greatest kindness ony Christian could do for -anither as he stands on the banks of the Jordan.” - -For a minute he was silent again, and then he said: “A'm gaein' to tell -ye somethin', and I think ye'll understand. My wife and me wes married -thirty-five years, and ilka nicht of oor married life we sang a psalm -afore we gaed to rest. She took the air and I took the bass, and we sang -the Psalms through frae beginning to end twal times. She was taken frae -me ten year ago, and the nicht afore she dee'd we sang the Twenty-third -Psalm. A've never sung the psalm since, and I didna join wi' ye when ye -sang it, for a'm waitin' to sing it wi' her new in oor Father's hoose -the momin's momin', where there'll be nae nicht nor partin' evermore.” - -And this is how one Englishwoman found out that the Scot is at once the -dourest and the tenderest of men. - - - - -XIII.--HIS CROWNING DAY - - -WE will leave the main road which runs through the Glen between oak -trees which were planted fifty years ago, but are only now beginning to -join their branches, and take our way up the hillside till we come to -the purple sea of heather whose billows rise and fall, broken only here -and there by an oasis of green or a running burm. Our goal is this little -cottage which is so low that its roof merges into the hill behind, -and upon whose thatch the wild flowers have encroached. Stoop, if you -please, for it is not wise to have high doorways where the winter storm -beats so fiercely, and being respectable people, we shall be taken into -the inner room, where strangers of high degree are received and the -treasures of the family are kept. It will not take long to give an -inventory of the furniture, and the value will not run to two figures. A -box bed, a small table, four ancient chairs, what they called a chest -of drawers, and on the mantelpiece some peacocks' feathers by way of -decoration, and certain china ornaments representing animals which never -have been seen in this creation, and are never likely to emerge in any -process of evolution. Were this all, I should not have troubled you to -climb so far, or to leave even for five minutes the glory of the open -moor. There is something else in the lowly room which you might well -take a journey to see, for it is a rare sight in shepherds' cottages. -Here is a bookshelf, and on it, I declare, some dozen volumes bound in -full calf, and bearing on one side the arms of a University. You must -revise your judgment of this house, and find another measure than the -height of the walls and the cubic space in the rooms. It matters not -although a house have thirty chambers, with lofty ceilings and soft -carpets and carved furniture; if there be no books which belong to -literature within its walls it is a poor and narrow home, and the souls -therein are apt to be mean and earthly. - -While you are looking at the books the shepherd's wife is looking at -you. From the moment you crossed the threshold she has been thinking of -that bookshelf, and hoping you would take notice thereof, but not for -the world would she have mentioned it by word or sign. We had our own -code of manners in the Glen, and one of our cardinal sins was “blowing,” - by which we meant boasting; and while a man though perhaps not a woman, -could be forgiven for “tasting,” there was no mercy shown to the person -who allowed himself to brag. When, for instance, old David Ross's son -became a professor, his father and mother simply allowed the glorious -fact to ooze out through Domsie, who certainly had no scruple in making -the most of it, and neither the father nor mother ever said Professor in -public, although we believe they called their son nothing else between -themselves; but the Glen made up for their reticence by decorating -every second sentence about him with the word. All the same, Mistress -McPherson is watching us keenly, and she would be utterly disappointed -if we had overlooked the shelf; and now, in answer to our inquiry, she -will take us into the kitchen and place us by the fireside, that we may -hear the story of her scholar son, which, indeed, is the one romance in -the history of this humble family. - -One morning John left the cottage to go to school, a shepherd's boy, and -likely, as it appeared, to herd sheep and live in the Glen all the -days of his life as his father had done before him. In the evening the -schoolmaster, who is the judge of letters in the Glen, with the minister -as a court of confirmation, came up and told the father and mother that -in the purposes of the Eternal their son was evidently destined to be -a scholar, and that upon them lay the duty of seeing that John made his -calling and election sure. Had tidings come to those two people, whose -wage in money would not amount to ten shillings a week, that they were -heirs to a fortune, it would not have brought such pleasure to their -souls as the good hope that their lowly stock would once at least in -a generation produce the white flower of a scholar's life. The whole -family, father and mother, with their grown-up sons and daughters in -service, will now unite in one labour--to save and to sacrifice, that by -hook or crook their brother may reach a university, and be sustained -in his study there till he has reached its reward. Four years from that -evening, had you been standing under the great arch by which students -enter the quadrangle of Edinburgh University, you had seen the -shepherd's son pass in, plainly dressed and shy in manner, but strong -of body and brave in soul, and charged with all the knowledge that -his schoolmaster and his minister could impart by patient, ungrudging -labour. The lad before him is a noble's son, and the one following is a -merchant's, and so sons of the rich and of the poor, of the high and -of the low, they go together, into the one Republic on the face of the -earth, the Republic of Letters, where money does not count, nor rank, -nor influence, nor intrigue, but where every man stands equal and the -best man wins. - -Another four years and John has obtained his degree, a double first, and -he writes to the cottage on the side of the hill that the two old people -must come up to see him crowned. For six weeks before the day his mother -has just one consuming anxiety, and that is what she should wear on -the occasion, and it is only after fifteen long deliberations with her -gossips in the Glen that the great affair is settled, while the father's -mind is wholly taken up on Sundays with the effort to look as if he were -not the father of a graduate. - -When the shepherd and his wife enter the gates of the University, -they are not to be thought of as two illiterate peasants who cannot -distinguish between a University and a dry-goods store. Although they -had never themselves expected to see so high a place, and had only -cherished it as a secret hope that perhaps one of their boys might -attain so far, they have learned by the tradition of their nation, and -by the speech of Domsie in the kirk-yard on Sabbath, to enter into -the greatness of a university. It is to them the home of the highest -knowledge, and a sacred place to which reverend people might well go -up as a pious Moslem to Mecca or a Jew to Jerusalem. As they cross the -quadrangle, the shepherd touches his wife, and points to an elderly -gentleman in the distance. They follow him with respectful attention as -he shambles along, half a dozen books under his arm, his shabby cloak -held by a single button, a hat as old as Jamie Soutar's resting on the -back of his head. - -“Keep's a', Jeems,” whispers Janet respectfully “Div ye really think -that he's a professor?” - -“We canna be sure, woman; he micht juist be a scholar, but I am judgin' -that he's a professor--he hes a' the appearance.” - -And the two old people stand still in the bit till he disappears, and -then they go on their way much lifted. Outside religion there is no word -in Scots speech so sacred as “professor.” It means a semi-heavenly -body charged with Latin and Greek philosophy and mathematics. It was -something to see such a man, and to be in his company was living in an -atmosphere where you might catch the infection of his learning. When a -glensman, to whom Domsie had spoken of professors with bated breath for -more than a generation, learned that in southern parts the title was -assumed by hairdressers and ventriloquists, and that they were not sent -to gaol for profanity, then Drumtochty discovered another argument for -its favourite doctrine of original sin. - -As the two go down the half-lit passage to the hall of graduation, they -are met by a majestic figure--a young man in evening dress, and over -it the gown of an M.A., with its white silk hood, and on his head the -Master's cap. - -“Are you coming, may I ask,” said he, with quite a nice English accent, -to the graduation ceremony, “and can I be of any service?” - -“We are, sir; and as we are strangers frae the country, we would be -muckle obleeged if ye could shew us the door. We dinna want to go where -the gentry are sittin', but if ye would juist tak' us where we could -see, we'd be content and terrible pleased. There's a... friend to get -his degree to-day, and my man and me would like to see him.” - -“Mither,” said the figure, “and ye dinna ken yir ain son,” for he had -taken them in well, and played his little trick with much success. They -had never seen him in evening dress, nor in his Master's robe, and the -light was as darkness; besides, he had dropped the accent of the Glen. -The father and the son laughed together joyfully at Janet, but she -declared that she had known him all the time, and put it to them if a -mother could be mistaken about her son. But she didn't know him all the -same, and as long as she lived it was a pleasant jest between them when -he came north to visit them, and she met him at the garden gate. “Well, -mither,” he would say, “div ye ken yir son the day?” - -Janet was well pleased that one should tease her in after times about -this ploy of John's, for it always gave her an opportunity of describing -how handsome he looked in his black and white silk, and of stating that -she. Mistress McPherson, wife of James McPherson, shepherd at Camashach, -considered the dress of a Master of Arts the handsomest that a man could -wear. - -John took his father and mother into the hall, and placed them in the -seats reserved for the friends of graduates, and while a man has various -moments of pure joy in his life, there is none sweeter than when he -brings his mother to see him crowned at the close of his university -career. For in this matter he owes everything to two people--the -schoolmaster who taught him and the mother who inspired him. - -“Now, mither, you watch that door yonder, for through it the procession -will come; and when ye see the men wi' the white silk hoods, ye'll ken -that I'm there, and ye'll surely no mistake me again.” - -He was so provoking, and he looked so handsome with the flush of the day -upon his cheek, that, as he stooped over her, she was about to give him -a little shove and tell him not to give “any more impi-dence to his auld -mither,” when she remembered where she was sitting, and the grand folk -round her, and so she only answered with a demure nod of intelligence. - -She brought out her glasses, and the shepherd polished them carefully -for her because her hands were trembling, and for that matter he had -almost to put them on her nose, so shaken was she on this great day; and -then she watched the door, as if there was nothing else in all the hall -except that door. It seemed to her twelve hours before it opened and the -procession streamed through with many a famous man and many a coloured -garment. Janet had no eyes for the Chancellor in his purple and gold, -nor for the robes of red and the hoods of lemon silk bordered with white -fur, for there was nothing beautiful in her eyes that day except black -gowns with white silk upon them. When at last the Masters of Arts -appeared, she told me afterwards many and many a time in the Glen that -they were a body of very respectable-looking young men, but that among -them all there was only one outstanding and handsome man, and that, by a -curious accident which mothers only can explain, happened to be her -son. She followed him as he came down the passage, and was a little -disappointed that he was now carrying his trencher in his hand instead -of wearing it-on his head, and she saw him take his seat, and could -hardly forgive some great lady in front of her, whose bonnet, coming in -the line of vision, prevented her catching anything except a little bit -of John's shoulder with the white silk upon it. A little later, and she -watched him rise and go forward and kneel before the Chancellor, and -then there was said over him Latin words so magical that after they were -spoken a student was changed from a common man into a Master of Arts. -We used to say in our jesting that the Latin could not be translated, it -was so mysterious and awful, but the shepherd's wife and John's mother -was an accomplished Latin scholar that day, and she heard the Chancellor -say, as distinctly as ever man spoke-- - -“John McPherson, you are the tallest, strongest, handsomest, ablest, -kindest-hearted son whom this University ever made Master of Arts.” - That was a free translation, but it was true in spirit, and the letter -killeth. - -Standing behind the Chancellor, and looking down upon the hall, I saw -the faces of the shepherd and his wife, and I knew that they would never -taste such perfect joy again till they entered through the gates into -the city, and then I longed to be lifted above all circumstances, and to -have the power of the fairy world, where you do what you please. For I -should have gone down into the hall, and held a special and unheard-of -graduation ceremony, conferring a degree of a new kind altogether upon -that shepherd and his wife, because without their unworldly ideals, and -their hard sacrifices, and their holy prayers, John McPherson had never -knelt there that day in his white silk glory, Master of Arts with the -highest honours. - - - - -XIV.--“DINNA FORGET SPURGEON” - - -IS varied charge was given to the good man on the morning of market day -as he brought the mare out from the stable, as he harnessed her into the -dogcart, as he packed the butter basket below the seat, as he wrestled -into his top coat, worn for ceremony's sake, and as he made the -start--line upon line and precept upon precept as he was able to receive -it; but the conclusion of the matter and its crown was ever the same, -“Dinna forget Spurgeon.” - -“There's twal pund o' butter for the grocer, the best ever left this -dairy, and he maun gie a shillin,' or it's the laist Andra Davie'ill get -frae me; but begin by askin' fourteenpence, else it's eleven ye'll bring -back. He's a lad, is Andra, an' terrible grippy. - -“For ony sake tak' care o' the eggs, and mind they're no turnips ye're -handlin'--it's a fair temptin' o' Providence to see the basket in yir -hands--ninepence a dozen, mind, and tell him they're new laid an' no -frae Ireland; there's a handfu' o' flowers for the wife, and a bit o' -honey for their sick laddie, but say naethin' o' that till the bargain's -made. - -“The tea and sugar a've markit on a bit paper, for it's nae use bringin' -a bag o' grass-seed, as ye did fower weeks ago; an' there's ae thing -mair I micht mention, for ony sake dinna pit the paraffin oil in the -same basket wi' the loaf sugar; they may fit fine, as ye said, but -otherwise they're no gude neeburs. And, John, dinna forget Spurgeon.” - -Again and again during the day, and in the midst of many practical -operations, the good wife predicted to her handmaidens what would -happen, and told them, as she had done weekly, that she had no hope. - -“It's maist awfu' hoo the maister'ill gae wanderin' and dodderin' thro' -the market a' day, pricing cattle he's no gaein' tae buy, an' arguin' -aboot the rent o' farms he's no gaein' to tak', an' never gie a thocht -tae the errands till the laist meenut. - -“He may bring hame some oil,” she would continue, gloomily, as if that -were the one necessity of life to which a male person might be expected -to give attention; “but ye needna expect ony tea next week”--as if there -was not a week's stock in the house--“and ye may tak' ma word for it -there'ill be nae Spurgeon's sermon for Sabbath.” - -As the provident woman had written every requirement--except the oil, -which was obtained at the ironmonger's, and the Spurgeon, which was -sold at the draper's--on a sheet of paper, and pinned it on the topmost -cabbage leaf which covered the butter, the risk was not great; but that -week the discriminating prophecy of the good man's capabilities seemed -to be justified, for the oil was there, but Spurgeon could not be found. -It was not in the bottom of the dogcart, nor below the cushion, -nor attached to a piece of saddlery, nor even in the good man's -trouser-pocket--all familiar resting-places--and when it was at last -extricated from the inner pocket of his top coat--a garment with which -he had no intimate acquaintance--he received no credit, for it was -pointed out with force that to have purchased the sermon and then to -have mislaid it, was worse than forgetting it altogether. - -“The Salvation of Manasseh,” read the good wife; “it would have been a -fine like business to have missed that; a'll warrant this 'ill be ane -o' his sappiest, but they're a' gude”: and then Manasseh was put in a -prominent and honourable place, behind the basket of wax flowers in the -best parlour till Sabbath. - -It was the good custom in that kindly home to ask the “lads” from the -bothie into the kitchen on the Sabbath evening, who came in their -best clothes and in much confusion, sitting on the edge of chairs and -refusing to speak on any consideration. They made an admirable meal, -however, and were understood to express gratitude by an attempt at “gude -nicht,” while the foreman stated often with the weight of his authority -that they were both “extraordinar' lifted” by the tea and “awfu' ta'en -up” with the sermon. For after tea the “maister” came “but,” and having -seen that every person had a Bible, he gave out a Psalm, which was -sung usually either to Coleshill or Martyrdom--the musical taste of the -household being limited and conservative to a degree. The good man then -read the chapter mentioned on the face of the sermon, and remarked by -way of friendly introduction: - -“Noo we'ill see what Mr. Spurgeon has to say the nicht.” - -Perhaps the glamour of the past is on me, perhaps a lad was but a -poor judge, but it seemed to me good reading--slow, well pronounced, -reverent, charged with tenderness and pathos. No one slept or moved, and -the firelight falling on the serious faces of the stalwart men, and the -shining of the lamp on the good grey heads, as the gospel came, sentence -by sentence, to every heart, is a sacred memory, and I count that Mr. -Spurgeon would have been mightily pleased to have been in such meetings -of homely folk. - -It was harvest-time, however, when Manasseh was read, and there being -extra men with us, our little gathering was held in the loft, where they -store the com which is to be threshed in the mill. It was full of wheat -in heavy, rich, ripe, golden sheaves, save a wide space in front of the -machinery, and the congregation seated themselves in a semi-circle on -the sheaves. The door through which the com is forked into the loft -was open and, with a skylight in the low dusty roof, gave us, that fine -August evening, all the light we needed. Through that wide window we -could look out on some stacks already safely built, and on fields, -stretching for miles, of grain cut and ready for the gathering and, -beyond, to woods and sloping hills towards which the sun was westering -fast. That evening, I remember, we sang - - “I to the hills will lift mine eyes.” - -and sang it to French, and it was laid on me as an honour to read -“Manasseh.” Whether the sermon is called by this name I do not know, and -whether it be one of the greatest of Mr. Spurgeon's I do not know, nor -have I a copy of it; but it was mighty unto salvation in that loft, and -I make no doubt that good grain was garnered unto eternity. There is -a passage in it when, after the mercy of God has rested on this chief -sinner, an angel flies through the length and breadth of Heaven, crying, -“Manasseh is saved, Manasseh is saved.” Up to that point the lad read, -and further he did not read. You know, because you have been told, how -insensible and careless is a schoolboy, how destitute of all sentiment -and emotion... and therefore I do not ask you to believe me. You know -how dull and stupid is a plowman, because you have been told... and -therefore I do not ask you to believe me. - -It was the light which got into the lad's eyes, and the dust which -choked his voice, and it must have been for the same reasons that a -plowman passed the back of his hand across his eyes. - -“Ye'ill be tired noo,” said the good man; “let me feenish the sermon,” - but the sermon is not yet finished, and never shall be, for it has been -unto life everlasting. - -Who of all preachers you can mention of our day could have held such -companies save Spurgeon? What is to take their place, when the last -of those well-known sermons disappears from village shops and cottage -shelves? Is there any other gospel which will ever be so understanded of -the people, or so move human hearts as that which Spurgeon preached in -the best words of our own tongue? The good man and his wife have entered -into rest long ago, and of all that company I know not one now; but -I see them as I write, against that setting of gold, and I hear the -angel's voice, “Manasseh is saved,” and for that evening and others very -sacred to my heart I cannot forget Spurgeon. - - - - -XV.--THEIR FULL RIGHTS - - -THE departure of a minister of the Scots Kirk from his congregation is, -of course, a subject of regret if he has the heart of the people, but -this regret is tempered by the satisfaction of knowing that there -will be an election. While a free-born Scot is careful to exercise -his political suffrage, he takes an even keener interest in his -ecclesiastical vote, and the whole congregation now constitutes itself -into a constituency. Every preacher is a candidate, and everything about -him is criticised, from his appearance--in one district they would not -have a red-headed man; and his dress--in another district they objected -to grey trousers, up to his voice and to his doctrine; but, of course, -the keenest criticism bears upon his doctrine, which is searched as with -a microscope. As a rule there is no desire to close the poll early, -for a year's vacancy is a year's enjoyment to the congregation giving -endless opportunity for argument and debate for strategy and party -management. One congregation had been ruled so firmly by the retiring -pastor, who was a little man and therefore full of authority, that they -hardly dared to call their souls their own. - -If any one ventured to disagree with this ecclesiastical Napoleon he -was ordered to the door and told to betake himself to some church where -freedom of action was allowed. This magnificent autocracy might have -emptied another church, but it secured a Scots kirk, because to tell a -Scot to go is to make, him stay. As a matter of course, no person did -leave, for that would have been giving in, and the consequence was that -the whole congregation was knit together by the iron bonds of rebellion. - -When Napoleon retired the congregation smacked its lips, for now at -least every one had found his voice and could go his own way. There -never was such a vacancy known in the district. They heard thirty -candidates and rejected them all: they held a meeting every week, which -lasted till midnight, and there were six motions proposed, and no one -dreamed of agreement. It was like the emancipation of the slaves, and -the whole of Scotch cantankerousness came to a height. Every obscure -law was hunted up in order to be used against the other side, and every -well-known law they endeavoured to break. Not because they did not -know the law, but because they wanted to find out whether the presiding -minister knew it. This poor man had the duty of conducting the meetings -of the congregation, and was utterly unfitted for the position by his -exceeding goodness. He was a pious and soft-hearted man, who used to -address them as “dear brethren,” and appealed to them on the grounds of -harmony and charity. “You will wish to be at one,” he used to say, when -they all really wished to be at sixes and sevens, or, “I am sure,” he -would say, “you didn't mean to oppose our dear brother who has just -spoken,” when that had been the speaker's intention for twenty-four -hours. One party was led by a tall, raw-boned Scot, with a voice like a -handsaw, who opposed everything, and the other was really managed by the -wife of one of the elders, who could be heard giving directions _sotto -voce_ how to meet the handsaw. They finally drew the wretched acting -moderator to distraction, so that his head, which was never so good as -his heart, gave way, and he required six months' rest in a hydropathic. - -The Presbytery then sent down a minister of another kind, fairly -equipped in law and with no bowels of mercy; a civil, courteous, -determined, fighting man, and there was a royal evening. This minister -explained that they had held many meetings, most of which were -unnecessary, and that they had proposed fifty motions, all of which he -believed were illegal. It was his own conviction he freely stated that -they knew perfectly well that they had been wrong, and that they had -simply been amusing themselves, and he concluded by intimating that they -had met for business on this occasion, that a minister must be elected -before departing, and it was his business to see that he was elected -unanimously. He stood facing the congregation, who were now in a high -state of delight, feeling that there was going to be a real battle, and -that there would be some glory in contending with an able-bodied man, -who would not speak about charity, and say “dear brethren”--words which -always excite a secret feeling of disgust in a Scot. The minister stood -up opposite the congregation, tall, square and alert. “Will you pay -attention and I'll lay down the law; if any one breaks the law he must -sit down at once, and if he does not, I shall not allow him to vote. You -can propose any candidate who is legally qualified, and I will allow one -man to propose him and another to second him, and I will give each five -minutes in which to speak to the excellence of his candidate, and the -moment any person refers to another candidate he must stop. When the -candidates have been proposed we shall take the vote, and we shall go on -voting until we settle upon the candidate who has the majority, and we -will do all this in an hour, and then we will sing a Psalm and go home.” - -During this address several stalwart fighters were seen to nod to one -another, and one went the length of slapping his leg, and already the -moderator had acquired the respect of his turbulent congregation. -The handsaw arose and proposed his candidate, and almost immediately -attacked the other party. “Sit down, sir,” said the moderator, “you're -out of order,” and after a brief stare of amazement and a measuring of -the force against him, the handsaw gave a glance around and collapsed. -A candidate was proposed from the other side, but his name was hardly -mentioned before the mover commenced to refer to the handsaw. “You are -out of order,” said the moderator; “not another word,” and, although the -female leader of that side nodded to him to go on, he thought better, -and also collapsed. Then an astute old strategist at the back, who had -embroiled many a meeting, and who was sitting with a law book in -his hand, proposed that they should delay the election until another -meeting. “That motion,” said the moderator, “I shall not receive. We -have not met to delay; we have met to vote.” Whereupon another Scot -arose and stated that he had risen to a point of order, which is always -the excuse by which the proceedings can be interrupted. “What,” he said, -“I want to know is this: Is it regular to vote when there was no notice -given that the voting was to take place?” “There was notice given,” said -the moderator; “sit down in your place.” “Can I not object?” he said. -“No,” he said, “you can't.” He looked around the meeting. “What,” he -said, “is the use of being a Presbyterian if I am not allowed to object? -I might as well be an Episcopalian.” The moderator, still standing, eyed -him, and said: “Are you going to sit down or are you not?” “Do you order -me to sit down in your private or in your public capacity?” said the -recalcitrant. “As a man or as a moderator?” For nothing delights a Scot -more than to make this contrast between public and private capacity, -like the Scotch magistrate, who said, “In my public capacity I fine you -five shillings for the assault; in my private capacity I would have done -the same myself.” “As moderator,” said the minister, “I command you to -take your place.” “I consent--I consent,” said the Scot, with infinite -relish, like a man who had had a wrestling match and had been fairly -beaten, and he leant back to a friend behind, saying, “Sall, he's a lad, -the moderator,” for this is the way in which a man wins respect from -Scots. In a moment he had risen again. “Moderator,” he said, “ye -commanded me in yir official capacity to sit doon, and I obeyed, -but”--and there was a silence through the church--“I'll no sit down -for that woman,” indicating the elder's wife. “She would turn round and -order me to sit down as if I had been her husband, but, moderator,” he -said, “I thank the Almichty I'm not.” - -Greatly cheered by this episode, the congregation proceeded to vote, the -leaders taking objections to different voters, which were all overruled -by the moderator, who was now going from strength to strength. And then -at last a minister was elected by a large majority. “Now,” said the -moderator, “you've had a fair fight and a year's argument, and there is -not a privilege you have not used, and you have done a thousand things -you had no right to do, and I appeal to the minority to agree with -the majority, as Scots ought to do when they have had their rights.” - Whereupon the handsaw arose and declared that he was never prouder of -the Scotch Church than he had been during the last year, and that in all -his life he had never spent a happier time. “We've had a grand argument -and richt stand up fecht, and now,” he said, “I'm willing, for masel, -and I speak for my friends, to accept the minister that's been elected, -for I consider him to be a soond preacher and vary spiritual in the -exercises. The fact is,” he added, “I would have been content with him -at ony time, but it would have been a peety to have had an immediate -election and to have missed this year. When he comes he'll have my -hearty support, and I'm willing to agree that he should have a proper -stipend, and that the manse be papered and painted and put in order for -his coming.” As he sat down he could be heard over all the church saying -to himself with immense satisfaction, “It's been a michty time, and the -law's been well laid down this nicht.” The minister gave out the Psalm-- - - “How good a thing it is, and - How becoming well, - To gather such as brethren are - In unity to dwell!” - -Which was sung with immense spirit, and, after the benediction, every -man whom the minister had ordered to sit down came up and shook hands -with him, assuring him that they knew all the time that he was right, -and that they respected him for his ability. They also entreated him -to come and administer the sacrament before the new minister arrived, -believing that a man who could rule with so firm a hand would be an -acceptable preacher of the gospel. - - - - -XVI.--AN EXPERT IN HERESY - - -EVERY country has its own sports, and Scotland has golf, but golf only -satisfies the lighter side of the Scots; the graver side of the Scot -finds its exercise in the prosecution of a heretic. Nothing so delights -this theological and argumentative people as a heresy hunt, and they -have no more ill-will to a heretic than sportsmen have to a fox. It -sometimes occurs to me that they dally with cases in order that they may -be prolonged, and that the sportsmen may have a good run after the -fox. I have even dared to think that they would be willing to preserve -heretics as foxes are preserved in hunting counties in order that they -might have a good time now and again. Every one throws himself into a -heresy case, from the highest to the lowest, from the Duke in his castle -to the shepherd on the hills, from the lawyer in his office to the -railway guard in his van. They all read about it and form their opinion, -and take sides and watch the event, and the issue of the case is a -national incident. From the conflict of wits, in which the hardest heads -have tried conclusions on the deepest subjects, the people return to -business shrewder than ever, more confident and self-satisfied. - -We had missed the connexion, and the North train had gone fifteen -minutes ago, and how I was to reach the station of Pitrodie that night -was a question beyond solution. The station master could give no help, -and only suggested that I might sleep at the inn and take the morning -train, but in that case I would have been too late for the funeral to -which I was going. When he heard the nature of my errand he bestirred -himself with much more zeal, for, although a Scot may not facilitate -your journey for a marriage, which he regards as an event of very -doubtful utility, and associated with little geniality, he is always -ready to assist you to a funeral to which the heart of the Scotch people -goes out with pathetic interest. - -“Would you mind travelling in the guard's van of a luggage train and ye -would be in fine time?” - -On the contrary, I would be delighted, for I had never travelled in such -circumstances, and the guard's van would be a pleasant variety upon a -third-class carriage. - -The guard received me with considerable cordiality and gave me his -seat in the van, which was decorated with pictures of kirks and eminent -divines. For a while he was engaged with various duties, shunting trucks -and making up his train, but after we had started and were out upon the -line he came and placed himself opposite. - -“Now,” he said, “we've a run of twenty miles, and it's not likely we'll -be interrupted, for the rails are clear at this time of night, and we're -an express goods. I regard it,” he said, “as a providence that ye lost -yer train, for if I'd been asked what I would like this very nicht I -would ha said, 'Gie me a minister.'” - -When I expressed my pleasure at his respect for the cloth, and my -willingness to be of any service to him, he waved his hand as one -does who has been misunderstood. “It's no,” he said, “releegious -conversation that I'm wantin', although I'm willing enough to have that -at a time, but there's a point in the Robertson-Smith heresy case that I -would like to have cleared up to my satisfaction.” - -A tall and grey-bearded man, about fifty years of age, with a keen eye -and a shrewd face, he leant forward from his place, and, with the light -of the lamp shining on his face, he began: “Now, ye see, the first -article in the libel against Prof. Robertson-Smith has to do with the -construction of the Book of Deuteronomy,” but I will not inflict what he -said, for it took ten miles of the railway to open up his point. As we -rattled along the birling of the heavy break van was like music to words -of sonorous sound--“Pentateuch,” “Mosaic Authorship,” “Confession of -Faith.” - -For another ten miles we discussed the length and breadth of the eminent -Hebrew scholar's views till we reached a crisis, which happened also to -be a junction on the railway. “One minute,” he said, “and we maun stop, -for we're coming to the junction.” The point we were at was the place -of the Song of Solomon in the Old Testament. “Now, I contend,” he -continued, “that it hes to be read spiritually, and I've given three -reasons. I've three mair, but I maun shunt the trucks. I'll be back in -ten minutes, and ye'll not forget that the discussion is no closed -but just adjourned, and I've the richt to give the other three reasons -before ye reply.” And then, after the three had been given and thirty -more, we parted as the day was breaking. At Pitrodie station he crossed -the platform with me, and shook hands till my bones were almost broken. - -“It's been a very edifying nicht, and I'll gie fair consideration to all -your arguments. Mind ye, I'm proud o' the Professor, for he's a michty -scholar, and I wouldna like to see him put out o' the kirk, but I'm -jalousing that he's a heretic.” I stood at a turn of the road and saw -the train pass, and my friend waved his hand to me from the back of the -van, but I could see him sadly shake his head. He was still jalousing -(suspecting) that Prof. Robertson-Smith was a heretic. - - - - -XVII.--THE SCOT AT AN ARGUMENT - - -IT is difficult for one nation to perfectly understand another, and -there is a certain quality of the Scots' intellect which is apt to try -the patience of an Englishman. It is said that an Englishman was once -so exasperated by the arguing by a Scot, who took the opposite side on -every subject from the weather to politics, that at last he cried out in -despair: “You will admit at least that two and two make four,” to which -the delighted Scot replied with celerity, “I'll admit naething, but I'm -willing to argue the proposition.” It is not recorded whether the Scot -escaped alive, but it is hardly possible to believe that he was not -assaulted. You may be the most conciliatory of people, and may even be -cleansed from all positive opinions--one of those people who are said to -be agreeable because they agree with everybody; and yet a thoroughbred -Scot will in ten minutes or less have you into a tangle of prickly -arguments, and hold you at his mercy, although afterwards you cannot -remember how you were drawn from the main road into the bramble patch, -and you are sure that the only result was the destruction of your peace -of mind for an afternoon. But the Scot enjoyed himself immensely, and -goes on with keen zest to ambush some other passenger. What evil -spirit of logic has possessed this race? an English person cannot -help complaining, and why should any person find his pleasure in wordy -debate? - -From his side of the Tweed and of human nature the Scot is puzzled and -pained by the inconsequence and opportunism of the English mind. After -a Scot, for instance, has proved to his Southern opponent that some -institution is absolutely illogical, that it ought never to have -existed, and ought at once to be abolished, and after the Scot pursuing -his victorious way of pure reason, has almost persuaded himself that -a thing so absurd never has existed, the Englishman, who has been -very much bored by the elaborate argument, will ask with a monstrous -callousness whether the institution does not work well, and put forward -with brazen effrontery the plea that if an institution works well, it -does not matter whether it be logical or not. Then it is that a Scot -will look at an Englishman in mournful silence and wonder upon what -principle he was created. - -The traveller no sooner crosses the border from the genial and -irresponsible South than he finds himself in a land where a nation forms -one huge debating society, and there is a note of interrogation in the -very accent of speech. When an English tourist asked his driver what -was the reason of so many religious denominations in Scotland, and the -driver, looking down upon a village with six different kirks, answered, -“Juist bad temper, naething else,” he was indulging his cynicism and -knew very well that he was misinforming the stranger. - -While it is absolutely impossible to make plain to an average Englishman -the difference between one kirk and another in Scotland, yet every one -has its own logical basis, and indeed when one considers the subtlety -and restlessness of the Scots intellect he wonders, not that there -have been so many divisions, but that there have been so few in Scots -religion. By preference a Scot discusses Theology, because it is the -deepest subject and gives him the widest sphere for his dialectic -powers, but in default of Theology he is ready to discuss anything else, -from the Game Laws to the character of Mary, Queen of Scots. He is the -guardian of correct speech and will not allow any inaccuracy to pass, -and therefore you never know when in the hurry of life you may not -be caught and rebuked. When I asked a porter in Stirling Station one -afternoon at what hour the train for Aberfoyle left I made a mistake -of which I speedily repented. _The_ train for Aberfoyle--I had assumed -there was only one train that afternoon, for this beautiful but remote -little place. Very good, that was then the position I had taken up and -must defend. The porter licked his lips with anticipation of victory, -for he held another view. “_The_ train for Aberfoyle,” he repeated -triumphantly. “Whatna train div ye mean?”--then severely as one exposing -a hasty assumption--“there's a train at 3.10, there's another at 3.60, -there's another at 6.30” (or some such hours). He challenged me to reply -or withdraw, and his voice was ringing with controversy. When I made an -abject surrender he was not satisfied, but pursued me and gained another -victory. “Very good,” I said, “then what train should I take?” He was -now regarding me with something like contempt, an adversary whom it was -hardly worth fighting with. That depended on circumstances he did not -know and purposes which I had not told him. He could only pity me. “How -can I tell,” he said, “what train ye should go by, ye can go by ony -train that suits ye, but yir luggage, being booked through, will travel -by the 3.10.” During our conversation my portmanteau which I had placed -under his charge was twice removed from its barrow in the shifting of -the luggage, and as my friend watched its goings (without interfering) -he relaxed from his intellectual severity and allowed himself a jest -suitable to my capacity. “That's a lively portmanteau o' yours. I'm -judging that if ye set it on the road it would go Aberfoyle itsel'.” - When we parted on a basis of free silver he still implied a reproach, -“so ye did conclude to go by the 3.10, but” (showing how poor were my -reasoning faculties even after I had used them) “ye would have been as -soon by the 3.50.” For a sustained and satisfying bout of argument one -must visit a Scot in his home and have an evening to spare. Was it not -Carlyle's father who wrote to Tom that a man had come to the village -with a fine ability for argument, and that he only wished his son were -with them and then he would set Tom on one side of the table and this -man on the other place, and “a proposeetion” between them, and hear them -argue for the night? But one may get pleasant glimpses of the national -sport on railway journeys and by the roadside. A farmer came into the -carriage one summer afternoon, as I was travelling through Ayrshire, who -had been attending market and had evidently dined. He had attended to -the lighter affairs of life in the sale of stock and the buying of a -reaping machine, and now he was ready for the more serious business of -theological discussion. He examined me curiously but did not judge -me worthy, and after one or two remarks on the weather with which I -hastened to agree, he fell into a regretful silence as of one losing -his time. Next station a minister entered, and the moment my -fellow-passenger saw the white tie his eyes glistened, and in about -three minutes they were actively engaged, the farmer and the Minister, -discussing the doctrine of justification. The Minister, as in duty -bound, took the side of justification by faith, and the farmer, simply I -suppose to make debate and certainly with a noble disregard of personal -interests--for he had evidently dined--took the side of works. Perhaps -it may seem as if it was an unequal match between the Minister and the -farmer, since the one was a professional scholar and the other a -rustic amateur. But the difference was not so great as a stranger might -imagine, for if a minister be as it were a theological specialist every -man in Scotland is a general practitioner. And if the latter had his -own difficulties in pronouncing words he was always right in the text -he intended. They conducted their controversy with much ability till we -came to the farmer's station, and then he left still arguing, and with -my last glimpse of that admirable Scot he was steadying himself against -a post at the extremity of the platform, and this was his final -fling: “I grant ye Paul and the Romans, but I take my stand on James.” - Wonderful country where the farmers, even after they have dined, take -to theology as a pastime. What could that man not have done before he -dined. - -In earlier days, the far back days of youth, I knew a rustic whose -square and thick-set figure was a picture of his sturdy and indomitable -mind. He was slow of speech and slow also of mind, but what he knew he -held with the grip of a vice and he would yield nothing in conversation. -If you said it was raining (when it might be pouring) he would reply -that it was showery. If you declared a field of com to be fine he said -that he had seen “waur” (worse), and if you praised a sermon he -granted that it wasna bad; and in referring to a minister distinguished -throughout the land for his saintliness he volunteered the judgment that -there was “naething positively veecious in him.” Many a time did I try, -sometimes to browbeat him, and sometimes to beguile him into a positive -statement and to get him to take up a position from which he could -not withdraw. I was always beaten, and yet once I was within an ace of -success. We had bought a horse on the strength of a good character -from a dealer, and were learning the vanity of speech in all horse -transactions, for there was nothing that beast did not do of the things -no horse ought to do, and one morning after it had tried to get at James -with its hind legs, and then tried to bring him down with its fore legs, -had done its best to bite him, and also manoeuvred to crush him against -a wall, I hazarded the suggestion that our new purchase was a vicious -brute. He caught the note of assurance in my voice, and saw that he had -been trapped; he cast an almost pathetic look at me as if I was inviting -him to deny his national character and betray a historic part of -unbroken resistance. He hesitated and looked for a way of escape while -he skilfully warded off another attack, this time with the teeth, and -his face brightened. “Na!” he replied, “I'll no admit that the horse -is veecious, we maun hae more experience o' him afore we can pass sic a -judgment, but”--and now he just escaped a playful tap from the horse's -fore-leg--“I'm prepared to admit that this momin' he is a wee thingie -liteegious.” And so victory was snatched from my hand, and I was again -worsted. - -If the endless arguing of the Scot be wearisome to strangers and one -would guess is a burden to himself, yet it has its advantages. It has -been a discipline for the Scots mind, and the endless disputations on -doctrine and kirks as well as more trifling matters like history and -politics has toughened the Scots brain and brought it to a fine edge. -When I hear a successful Scot speak lightly of the Shorter Catechism, -then I am amazed and tempted to despise him, for it was by that means -that he was sent forth so acute and enterprising a man, and any fortune -he has made he owes to its training. He has been trained to think and -to reason, to separate what is true from what is false, to use the -principles of speech and test the subtlest meaning of words, and -therefore, if he be in business, he is a banker by preference, because -that is the science of commerce, and if he be an artizan, he becomes an -engineer because that is the most skilful trade, and as a doctor he is -spread all over the world. Wherever hard thinking and a determined will -tell in the world's work this self-reliant and uncompromising man is -sure to succeed, and if his mind has not the geniality and flexibility -of the English, if it secretly hates the English principle of -compromise, and suspects the English standard of commonsense, if it be -too unbending and even unreasonably logical, this only proves that no -one nation, not even the Scots, can possess the whole earth. - - - - -XVIII.--UPON THE LECTURE PLATFORM - - -THERE are four places where a man may lecture, exclusive of the open -air, which is reserved for political demonstrations and religious -meetings, and I arrange the four in order of demerit. The worst is, -beyond question, a church, because ecclesiastical architects have no -regard for acoustics, and a lecturer is apt to crack his voice yelling -into the corners of churches. - -People come to a church, also, in a chastened mood, and sit as if they -were listening to a sermon, so that the unhappy lecturer receives little -encouragement of applause or laughter, and, if he happens to be himself -a clergyman, is hindered from doing anything to enliven the audience. -Besides, the minister of the church will feel it his duty to introduce -the leading members of his congregation after the lecture, and a -reception of this kind in the vestry is the last straw on a weary -lecturer's back. He cannot, however, refuse because he is a fellow -professional, and knows that his discourtesy may be set to the debit of -the minister. Next in badness is a public hall, because it is so bare -and cheerless, and on account of its size is difficult to fill with -an audience, and still more difficult with the voice. Drill halls, -especially, are heart-breaking places, because they are constructed -for the voices of commanding officers shouting “right wheel,” “march,” - “fire,” and such like martial exhortations. - -There is also another objection to halls from the lecturer's standpoint, -and that is the accessibility of the platform. Usually there are two -sets of steps, which the audience consider have been constructed in -order that they may come on the platform in a body and shake hands with -the lecturer. If a lecturer be a human being, he is always glad to see -two or three of his fellow-creatures, especially if they say something -encouraging, but just because he is a human being and has spoken for an -hour and a half, he is apt to lose heart when he sees half of his large -audience, say seven hundred people, processing in his direction. - -It is on such an occasion that he is full of gratitude to a manager who -will come in with his travelling coat and march the lecturer out at -the back door, as a man in haste to catch his train or on any other -pretence. - -A lecturer may count himself fortunate, and need have no anxiety about -circumstances, who speaks from the stage of a theatre, because he will -have his whole audience within convenient compass, and focussed upon -him, and although he comes down to a whisper he will still be heard. -When you lecture at a theatre you are known as the “star,” and as you -cross the dark and mysterious under-world behind the stage you hear some -one crying: “This way to the star's room,” which generally turns out to -be the room of the leading actress, where you may spend a quarter of an -hour in seeing yourself in the innumerable mirrors, and examining the -long array of toilet instruments on the table. - -Theatrical people are most sympathetic and good-natured, and although -they may not have the faintest idea who you are or what you are going to -do, they always wish you well, and congratulate you if there is a good -house. Their own house may not have been good last night, but they are -glad if yours is good to-day. - -The crowning advantage of a theatre to a nervous and hard-wrought -lecturer is its seclusion. You get in and out by the stage door, and -there is not one person in a hundred of your audience could find that -door, and if he did he would not get admittance. From the floor to the -stage there is no way, and when you pass behind the curtain you are -beyond reach even of an interviewer. - -When I become an impresario I shall never allow my “star” to be seen, -except on the platform, and after he has done his work I will remove him -swiftly in a closed conveyance. In this way I shall lay him under a debt -of gratitude, and keep him in good humour, and get out of him a third -more work. As I have no idea of entering on this business at present, -I offer the hint to all impresarios everywhere, with my respectful -compliments. - -If a lecturer could always choose--which practically he never can do -at all--he would prefer to lecture to a club of men and women in their -club-room, or in the large drawing-room of a private house. He will then -address a limited number of bright people who are at their best; he can -talk as at a dinner-table and make his point easily; he can venture on -an aside, or stop to tell an anecdote, and after an hour or so he will -be as little fatigued as when he began. When the lecture is over he -mixes with his audience and in a minute is a private individual. This -is the very refinement and luxury of lecturing, which a lecturer enjoys -only on rare occasions. - -Local arrangements differ very much, and some of them are rather trying -to a lecturer. There are places where a regular procession is formed -and marches to the platform, headed by a local dignitary, and made up -of clergymen, magistrates, little millionaires, and public characters -of all kinds and degrees. In midst thereof the lecturer marches like a -criminal being taken to the scaffold. - -Once I discovered in the ante-room a magnificent embroidered robe, and -the insane idea took possession of my mind that it was intended for the -lecturer. Had it been put upon me there would have been no lecture, for -I should have been smothered with its greatness and its grandeur. I -was still regarding it with horror and perspiring freely when the chief -magistrate of the city came in, and it was put on his shoulders by two -liveried servants, who then decorated us all, from the chief magistrate -down to myself, with flowers. The servants marched first into the hall, -the great man followed, and I crept, following behind his majestic -figure (which was received with frantic howls of applause), and this was -the grandest entry I ever made upon the lecture platform. - -In some places there is a chairman--I shall have something to say -about chairmen--and votes of thanks, first to the lecturer, then to the -chairman and to other people who have had some connexion or other with -the matter, till a third of the time is taken up by local talk and the -lecturer is put to confusion. - -For votes of thanks I have personally an intense dislike, because the -movers refer to one in terms which might suitably apply to William -Shakespeare (one enthusiastic admirer preferred me to Shakespeare, -because, although he classed us together as occupying a solitary -position, I had the advantage of being more sentimental). As a lecturer -on Scots subjects I have a horror of other speakers, because they feel -it necessary to tell Scots stories without knowing the dialect, and -generally without knowing the story. - -Certain places are very business-like in their arrangements, and the -smartest in this respect is, curious to say, not in America, but in -England. You are brought to the place of operation five minutes before -the hour, and at two minutes to eight placed upon the platform. When the -hand of the clock points to eight you begin to speak, and when the hand -stands at nine you close. If you are one minute late in beginning, the -audience grows restless, and if you are five minutes late in closing, -they leave. There are no preliminaries and no after-talk, and you do -your best with one of the most intelligent audiences any lecturer could -address in sixty minutes. - -The most risky audience in my experience is afforded by the free -lectures given in an English city, which is made up by men who have -dropped in from the streets because the hall is open and because -something is going on. If they are interested they will listen eagerly -and reward the lecturer with enthusiastic applause, besides giving an -irrelevant cheer occasionally for Old Ireland or Lord Roberts. If the -audience is not interested they leave in solid blocks of fifty, without -any regard to the lecturer's feelings, or the disturbance of their -neighbours. - -The most sympathetic and encouraging audience a man can have are the -students of an American ladies' college, because if he is nervous, as -an Englishman is bound to be before three hundred bright American young -women, they will catch his first point, and they will smile upon him and -show that they believe there is something in him if he could only get it -out, and create such a kindly atmosphere that he will rise to his height -and do his best. - -This was how the students of a delightful college not very far from -Philadelphia treated myself when I was almost ready to sink through -the floor from sheer terror of facing so many young women, being a -sisterless and daughterless man, and I wish to thank one young lady who -sat in the front and smiled encouragement upon me until I lifted up my -head and took heart. - -I have never utterly collapsed, and have never fled from the platform, -but I was reduced to confusion and incoherence of speech when I opened -a clubhouse for a company of women students at a certain American -University, and my whole audience suddenly flopped down upon the floor -as I began my little speech. As the floor had a beautiful carpet and -there were no chairs, the young ladies no doubt did well for themselves, -but as I looked down upon that fair flower-garden all my thoughts -vanished, and I do not think that I uttered a grammatical sentence. - -American young women do not know that an Englishman is the most bashful -creature on the face of the earth, and that he would rather face an -audience of two thousand men from the streets than address twenty young -women, every one as sharp as a needle and as pretty as a flower. - -My experience of chairmen is wide and varied, and I have lectured under -the Presidency of some very distinguished and able men, but on the whole -I would rather be without a chairman. There was one who introduced me in -a single sentence of five minutes' length, in which he stated that as he -would treasure every word I said more than pure gold he did not wish to -curtail my time by a single minute. He then fell fast asleep, and I had -the honour of wakening him at the close of the lecture. Had he slept -anywhere else I should not have had the smallest objection, but his -restful attitude in the high estate of the chair had an unedifying and -discomposing effect on the audience. - -On the whole, I preferred that chairman to another who introduced me to -the extent of twenty-five minutes, and occupied the time in commending -to the exasperated audience the claims of a foundling asylum with which -he had some charitable connexion. This time it was the lecturer who fell -asleep and had to be wakened when the audience drove the chairman to his -seat. - -A lecturer is also much refreshed amid his labour by the assurance of -the chairman that he has simply lived upon his books for years, and has -been looking forward to this evening for the last three months with high -expectation, when after these flattering remarks he does not know -your name, and can only put it before the audience after a hurried -consultation with the secretary of the lecture course. - -My memory returns also with delight to a chairman who insisted that one -object had brought them together, and that I was no stranger in that -town because the whole audience before him were my friends, and then -having called me Doctor Maclaren and Ian Watson, besides having hinted -more than once at Mr. Barrie, introduced me to an uproarious audience as -Mr. Ian John Maclaren Watson. - -It is, of course, my gain, and the loss of two more distinguished -fellow-countrymen, that I should be hopelessly associated in the minds -of many people with Mr. Crockett and Mr. Barrie. But when one speaker -declared that I would be remembered by grateful posterity as the Stickit -Minister, I was inclined to protest, for whatever have been my defects -as a preacher, I still have succeeded in obtaining a church; and when -another speaker explained he had gone three times to see my “Little -Minister,” I felt obliged to deny myself the authorship of that -delightful play. - -Allusions on the part of the audience, when they shook hands with me -afterwards, I allowed to paas because there was not time to put things -right; merely smiling at the mention of “A Window in Thrums,” and -looking modest at the adjectives heaped upon “The Raiders.” My cynical -humour was greatly tickled with the chairman, who had been very cordial -with me in private, and who was understood by the public to have been -closely identified with my visit to his city, when he not only escaped -from the stage after he had introduced me, but also immediately left the -theatre and cheerfully betook himself to his office without hearing one -word of the lecture. Perhaps he had discovered from some casual remark -of mine that I was not Mr. Barrie, and was at a loss to make out who I -could be. - -With mayors and other public functionaries who have to speak six times a -day on six different subjects, and who get a little confused as to which -meeting they are attending, I have the utmost sympathy, and never have -been discomposed by any reference to the management of hospitals or -the fallacy of bimetallism, even though the references were very -indifferently connected with the lecturer and his subjects. - -The labour of shaking hands afterwards with a considerable proportion -of your audience is not only lightened by their kindness, but also much -cheered by their conversation. After a few evenings in the United States -I arrived at the rooted conviction that the majority of the American -people belonged to the Scots race, and that America was the real -Scotland. It was not only that native-born Scots came forward to welcome -a fellow-countryman with an accent which was beyond all dispute and -could be heard six yards off, and with allusions to Auchterarder which -warmed your heart, but that every person seemed to be connected with -Scotland. - -One belonged to a family which had emigrated from Scotland in the -seventeenth century, and was anxious to know whether I could give him -any information on the family tree. Another had married a Scots wife, -and believed he owed his prosperity to her; a third was an admirer -of Sir Walter Scott, and looked forward to visiting Scotland as the -ambition of his life. And one lady, full of despair as she heard the -Scots claims of the people around her, came and confessed frankly: “I am -not Scots, and I have no relative a Scot, and none of our family married -a Scot, but my sister has a Scots nurse: will that do?” I assured her it -would, and that I was glad at last to meet a genuine American, because I -had come to see the American people. - -I have a vivid recollection of one place where a clan had turned out -to receive me, and I was escorted to the platform by a band of plaided -warriors, who, headed by a piper, marched me in and ranged themselves -round me on the platform. When the lecture was over, one clansman met me -in the anteroom, and I hardly recognized him; he was about three inches -taller and six inches bigger round the chest than before the lecture, -and was as a man intoxicated, though not with strong drink. - -“Mr. Maclaren,” he said to me, “eh, but we are a michty people,” and he -slapped his chest vigorously. I hinted that we had one or two faults to -modify our perfection, but he was not in a mood for such consideration. -“No worth mentioning,” he said, and departed in glory. The national -prayer of our people is understood to be: “Lord, give us a good -conceit of ourselves,” and this prayer in my compatriot's case had been -wonderfully fulfilled. - -Audiences vary very much in excellence, and it is difficult to -understand the reason, because you may have the most delightful and -the most difficult from the same class of people. Audiences are like -horses--some of them so hard in the mouth and spiritless that they -almost pull your arm out of the socket, and others so bright and -high-spirited that you hardly feel the reins in your hands, and -driving--that is to say, speaking--is a delight. - -The ideal audience is not one which accompanies you from beginning -to end with applause and laughter, but one that takes every point and -enjoys it with intelligent reserve, so that your illustrations may be -condensed into allusions, and a word conveys your humour. One of my -pleasures as a lecturer was to test every audience by a certain passage -which divided the sheep from the goats, and I think my enjoyment was -even greater when they were all goats. - -It came into a reading from the _Briar-Bush_ where the word -“intoxication” occurs. My custom was to stop and apologise for the -appearance of such a word in my book, and to explain that the word is -not known in Scots speech. There are, I used to say, two reasons why a -Scotsman does not employ the word. The first is that he is imperfectly -acquainted with the painful circumstances to which this word is supposed -to allude, and the second that a Scotsman considers that no one with -a limited human intellect can know enough about the conditions of his -fellow-creatures to make such a statement. - -When an audience took in the situation at once, then one could rest -for a moment, since they required that time to appreciate the rigid -temperance and conscientious literary accuracy of the Scotch people. -When they took the statement in perfect seriousness, and one or two -solemn reformers nodded their heads in high approval, then I wanted to -go behind the curtain and shake hands with myself. More than once it was -with difficulty I could continue in face of this unbroken seriousness, -and once I broke down utterly, although I hope the audience only -supposed I was laughing at some poor humour of my own. - -The cause of my collapse was not the faces of the audience, but the -conduct of a brother Scot, whose head went down below the seat as -he learned the two reasons why the word intoxicated is not used in -Scotland. When he emerged from the depths he cast a glance of delight in -my direction as to one who was true in all circumstances of his nation, -and then he was composing himself to listen with fresh confidence to a -lecturer who had given such pledges of patriotism, when he caught sight -of the faces of the audience. - -As it dawned upon him that the audience had taken the statement -literally, he was again obliged to go into retirement. Twice he made a -brave effort to regain possession of himself, but as often the sight of -the audience shook him to his foundation. At last he rose and left the -theatre, but at the door he lingered to take one look at the unconscious -audience, and then shaking his head in my direction with patriotic joy, -he departed from the building, and I was obliged to imagine an execution -in order to continue my lecture. - -The lecturer's nerves ought to be made of wire, for he never knows what -may happen. There is one town in the United States where the -express trains run down the main street, and you lecture there to an -accompaniment of engine bells and the blowing-off of steam. When the -music rises too high for the human voice, the lecturer in that town -ought to abandon the contest and offer between the whistles a few -remarks on the legislative power of American railways. These remarks -will be vastly enjoyed by the audience. - -Behind the platform of one large hall is the lift of the next building, -which is used at regular intervals of a minute, and you have your -sentences punctuated by the whoop of the unseen lift till at last you -can calculate the time and know that you have spoken ninety whoops, and -it is nearly time to stop. - -One night I was arrested by the sound of steady snoring which could be -heard over the larger part of the theatre, but although every one was -in search for the offender, he could not be found. At last the sound -was traced to the stage, and, as there was no one on the stage except -myself, to be behind the curtain. One of the servants of the theatre -had laid himself down there in order to enjoy the lecture, and that -had proved of such a solid character that he had fallen into a fit of -meditation, from which he was very rudely awakened. - -One evening in a Canadian town a fox terrier came in, and owing to some -difference of opinion with a gentleman in the stalls, expressed himself -in public. As there was to be a dog story in the lecture, I thought it -well to explain that the terrier had been engaged to take part, but had -broken in too soon. For a while the dog behaved with much propriety, and -then there was a second outbreak. - -Six gentlemen combined to get that dog out of the theatre, but not -without difficulty and danger. The terrier retired fighting. - -The platform does many good things for a lecturer; for one thing, it -strengthens his voice; it brings him into contact with large bodies of -his fellow-men, and it inspires him with humanity. Upon the platform -he learns to command himself; to take disappointments like a man; and, -above all, he gains a new conviction of the kindness and goodwill of -large bodies of people whom he has never seen before and may never see -again, and of whom he will ever think with a grateful heart. - - - - -XIX.--FOR THE SAKE OF A HORSE - - -IN the days of long ago I used to live in the summer-time upon a farm in -one of the rich plains of Scotland, where the soil was deep and we could -grow everything, from the fragrant red clover to the strong, upstanding -wheat. One reason why our farm bore such abundant crops was its -situation; for it lay, in the shape of the letter V, between two rivers -which met upon our ground. One of the rivers was broad and shallow, and -its clear water ran over gravel, brawling and fretting when it came upon -a large stone, and making here and there a pleasant little fall. This -river in the winter-time could rise high and run with a strong current, -and there were days and sometimes weeks when we could not send our men -and horses across its ford. We never hated this river, because, although -it could be angry and proud when the snow was melting on the distant -hill or a big thunder-cloud burst in the glens above us, it was never -treacherous and sullen; it had no unexpected depths into which a man and -horse might fall, but was open as the day, and its water was as bright. -Wherefore I have kindly thoughts of that stream, and when the sun is hot -in the city, and there is no unused air to breathe, I wish I were again -upon its banks and could see it gleaming underneath the bushes as it -sings its way past my feet. - -The other river was narrow, and ran in silence between its banks; or -rather it did not run, but trailed itself along like a serpent, deep, -black, and smooth. There was no end to its wicked cunning, for it -pretended to be only three feet deep and it was twelve, and sometimes it -hollowed out to itself a hole where a twenty-foot line would not touch -the bottom. One of its worst tricks was to undermine the bank so that -the green turf on which you stood became a trap, and, yielding beneath -your feet, unless you were very dexterous, shot you into the river. Then -unless you could swim, the river would drown you in its black water as -if with fiendish delight. - -Over this river, also, we required to have a ford; but in this case it -was not natural, for the bottom of this river was far below the surface -of the water, and it was soft, deep clay. Across the river, therefore, -the ford had to be built up with stones; and it was made in the shape -of a horseshoe, so that any one crossing must follow a rough half-circle -from bank to bank, and he had to keep to the line of the ford, for below -it the water poured into a depth of thirty feet. When the river was low -one could easily trace the ford, and there was no excuse for getting -into danger; but if the river had been fed by the upland rains, then -every sign of the ford was lost, and a man had to be very careful how -he picked his horse's way. And all the time the wicked water would be -bringing its weight to bear on him, in the hope of carrying him and his -horse and everything else that was with him over the edge. - -This river we loathed, and at the thought of its wickedness and its -tragedies--for twice I nearly lost my life in it--I still shudder, here -in my study. - -One afternoon I went down to the ford in order to warn a plowman that -he must not cross. That morning he had taken a load of grain to the -railway-, station, and now he was coming back with the empty cart and -two horses. During the day there had been rain upon the mountains, and -the river was swollen so that every sign of the ford was lost. - -I stood high up upon the bank, and when he came down the road on -the other side I shouted across the river--which was rising every -minute--that he must not on any account attempt it, but must turn back -and go round by the bridge. Of course he ought to have obeyed this -order, and I am not going to say that he was wise in what he did; but -safety would mean a détour of ten miles, and he knew not fear. It was -from his breed that our Highland regiment got their recruits and more -than one of our men had gone into the “Black Watch.” - -“I'll risk it,” he cried from the other side; and he made his -preparations for the daring enterprise, while I, on my side, could say -and do nothing more. All that remained for me was to watch, and, if it -were possible, in case of things coming to the worst, to give such help -as I could from the bank. - -It was a heavy two-wheeled cart he had, with one horse in the shafts and -another before, tandem-wise, and this kind of team could not be driven -from the cart. The driver must walk, holding the reins of the tandem -horse in his right hand, and, if necessary, guiding the horse in the -shafts with his left; and so they entered the stream. - -After the horses had gone a few yards into the water they wished to -stop; for they had an instinct of danger, all the more because they -were not free, but were strapped and chained, so that it would be almost -impossible for them to save their lives by swimming. Jock chided and -encouraged them, calling them by name, and they went in without any -more hesitation; for horses are full of faith, and trust their driver -absolutely if they know his voice and love him. Each of our men had a -pair of horses under his charge; and so close was the tie between the -men and their horses that the pair would come to their driver in the -field when he called them by name, and would allow another plowman to -handle them only under protest. - -Very carefully did Jock guide his team round the farther bend of the -horseshoe, but when they reached the middle of the stream the water -reached his waist and was lapping round his chest. Of course he could -not have stood had it not been that he was on the upper side, and had -the support of the shaft, to which he clung, still holding the reins of -the foremost horse and the bridle of the other. - -“Take care, Jock! for any sake, take care, man!” I yelled from my bank. -It was poor advice, but one had to say something as he looked on the -man and the horses, more than half covered by the stream, so lonely and -helpless. “You are at the turn now”; for we knew that the bend of the -shoe was at the middle of the stream. - -“It's a' richt,” came back the brave, honest voice. “We'll win through”; -and now Jock turned the leader's head up-stream, and the cart began -to move round on the nearer turn of the horseshoe. Yes, they would win -through, for surely the worst was past, and I jumped upon the bank for -very joy, but ever watched the slightest movement, while every inch -seemed a mile and every moment an hour. - -Alas! there was no end to the deceit and wickedness of that river; for, -owing to some slight bend at a little distance higher up on the opposite -bank, the current ran with its main strength, not in the middle of the -channel, but toward the place where I was standing, and into a black -deep just at my feet. It beat upon the cart, and as I looked I could see -the cart begin to yield, and to be carried sidewise off the track of the -ford. I shouted--I know not what now; I think the plowman's name--but -Jock already had felt himself going with the cart as it turned round. He -called upon his horses: “Pull up, Star! Steady, lass!”--this to the mare -in his hand. - -The intelligent creatures answered to his voice and made a valiant -effort, Star plunging forward, and the mare--a wise old beast--straining -herself to recover the cart. For an instant the cart's further wheel was -pulled on to the track, and I saw the cart once more level in the water; -and again I shouted, calling both man and horses by their names. Then -the river, afraid that she was to be spoiled of her prey, put out all -her strength. The cart yields and sinks on the lower side and begins to -turn over. It is off the ford now, and will pull the horses after it, -and all that can be done is for Jock to let go the horses, who are now -struggling in desperation, and to save his own life. He could swim, and -was a powerful man, forty inches and more round the chest, and a fellow, -if you please, to toss the hammer on a summer evening. - -“For God's sake, let go the horses, Jock, and make for the bank!” And -I went to the edge where he was likely to come, and lying down upon my -chest, I twisted one arm round a sturdy bush, and was ready with the -other hand to catch Jock if he should be fighting his way through the -current and come within reach of shore. - -By this time the horse in the shaft was fighting on the edge of the -abyss, and only the top of one side-board of the cart could be seen, and -the upper shaft, which was standing straight out of the water. Star was -screaming with terror--and a horse's scream is a fearful sound--for if -only he could be free of the two chains that fastened him to the shaft, -he, a powerful young horse, would soon reach safety where the road came -out from the ford through the banks, up the slope, to dry land. And -Jock, forgetful of himself, was determined to give Star his chance -for life--Star, whom he had broken in as a colt, and taught to take an -oatmeal cake out of his pocket, of whom he boasted in the markets, and -for whom he had bought little brass ornaments to wear on his forehead -and chest. The mare was beyond redemption, and must perish with the -cart; she was old, and had done her work. But Star must not be drowned. -Already he has loosened the near chain and on one side Star is free, -and now, in the midst of that wild hurly-burly of plunging horses, Jock, -holding on to the projecting shaft with one hand, is reaching with the -other underneath the neck of the mare, to free the other chain from the -farther shaft. - -He succeeded, as I took it, at the very last moment; for Star, now on -the brink, made a desperate effort, and, shaking himself free of all -entanglement, swam into the quieter water, just above where I had hoped -to meet his driver. - -In another minute Star was standing on the road, shaking in every limb, -and hanging his head between his fore legs, with all the strength and -bravery taken out of him. - -Before he reached the bank, the cart and the mare, and poor Jock with -them, had been swept over the edge of the unseen ford into the deep -water below. Had Jock been free of the cart and horse he might have made -some fight for his life, even in that caldron; but, from the marks upon -his body, we judged that he had been struck, just when he loosed the -chain, by the iron hoofs of the mare in her agony, and had been rendered -unconscious. - -Within a second, horse and cart and man had disappeared, and the cruel -river had triumphed and was satisfied. - -Three days afterward we rescued his body from her grasp; and when we -carried it up to the bothy where he and his mates had lived together, -the roughest of them felt that this man had been a hero. - -No doubt he ought not to have dared so much; but having dared, he did -not flinch. His duty was that of every driver--to stick to the last by -his horses--and he did it to the uttermost. - -He was a rough man, Jock, who never read anything except the stories in -the weekly newspaper which used to circulate in the bothies. There were -times when Jock took a glass too much on a fair-day at Muirtown, and -then he was inclined to fight. His language, also, was not suited for -polite society, and his temper was not always under perfect control. - -Let me say it plainly: Jock was nothing but a Scots plowman, and all he -did that day was to save the life, not of a child or of a man, but of -a cart-horse worth about £50. It was, however, his bit of duty as Jock -understood it; all he had to give was his life, and he gave it without -hesitation and without fear. - - - - -XX.--NO RELEVANT OBJECTION - - -NEXT to the election of a minister nothing stirred the parish of -Thomgreen like an election of elders, and it may be truthfully said that -the people were far more concerned about the men whom they appointed to -this sacred office than about the man whom they sent to represent them -in Parliament. The people had also a keen sense of the kind of man who -was fit to be an elder, and there was many a farmer whom they would -have cheerfully elected to any board, and in whose hands they would have -trusted any amount of money, but whom they would never have dreamt of -making an elder. Persons who were by no means careful about their own -life, and one would not have supposed had any great concern about the -character of the officers of the Christian Church, had yet a fixed idea, -and a very sound one, about the qualifications for an elder; and if -one of themselves had been proposed would have regarded the idea as -an insult, not to them but to the Church. “Me an elder,” he would have -said; “for ony sake be quiet; there maun be nae jokin' on sich subjects. -When you and me are made elders the kirk had better be closed.” For -the word elder was synonymous in Thorngreen, and, indeed, in every -right-thinking parish, not only with morality and integrity, but with -gravity and spirituality. - -No parish could expect to have many men who filled the conditions, and -Thorngreen had a standing grievance that one man who was evidently an -elder by arrangement of providence would not accept the office. Andrew -Harris, of Rochally, as he was commonly called, after the name of his -farm, was of ancient Thorngreen blood, since his forbears had worked -land in the parish for many generations, and he himself had succeeded -his father, who was also an elder for thirty years. There was no sounder -farmer than Rochally, and what he had done by draining, limeing, and -skilful seeding was known unto all men; no straighter man in a bargain, -for the character of a young horse from Rochally was better than a -written document; no friendlier man in the kirkyard on a Sunday or at -Muirtown markets, and no more regular and attentive hearer in kirk. -Beyond all that, the parish knew, although it never said such things, -that Rochally was a religious man, who not only had worship in his -house, with his men servants and his women servants present, but also -worshipped God in all Christian living from year to year. He was also a -man of substance, and if that could be got with other things, the parish -preferred it in an elder, and he gave liberally to the Free Kirk, of -which, indeed, he was the mainstay. If he was not married, and was never -likely now to marry, it could not be helped, but there was nothing else -wanting to make him the perfect model of an elder. - -As regularly as there was a meeting for the election of elders, which -happened about every five years, the name of Mr. Andrew Harris, farmer -of Rochally, was proposed and seconded, and about to be placed on the -nomination form, when Rochally himself rose, and quietly but very firmly -requested that his name be dropped, “for reasons which are sufficient -to my own conscience.” And although three ministers in succession, and a -generation of elders, had pleaded privately with Rochally, and had used -every kind of argument, they could not move him from his position. His -nomination was felt on each occasion to be a debt due to his character -and to the spiritual judgment of the congregation; but the people had -long ago despaired of his consent. Had they consulted his wishes they -would never have mentioned his name; but, at any rate, he made a point -of attending, and at once withdrawing. They were obstinate, and he was -obstinate, and the event had become a custom at the election of elders -in the Free Kirk. - -No one could even guess why Rochally refused office, and every one in -the Free Kirk was a little sore that the best and most respected member -on their roll should sit in his back seat Sunday after Sunday, and -attend every week meeting, and give the largest subscriptions, and also -gamer the utmost respect from without, and yet not be an elder. It was -also felt that if his name could only be printed on the nomination paper -and placed before the people, and the people unanimously elected him, -as they would do, then it would be hard for him to refuse, and if he did -refuse he would have to do what he had not done yet--give his reasons. -If they could only hold the meeting without his being present, or if, -by any innocent ruse, he could be kept from the meeting, then half the -battle would be won; and that is how it came to pass that the minister -and elders of Thomgreen Free Kirk stole a march upon Rochally. They had -been thinking for some time of adding to the eldership, for Essendy, the -father of the Session, had “won awa'” at eighty-seven, and Wester Mains -could only sit on sunny days in the garden; and while they were turning -the matter over in their minds--for nothing was done hurriedly in -Thomgreen--it spread abroad that Rochally was going away for the -unprecedented period of four weeks, partly to visit a sister's son who -had risen to high position in England, and partly to try some baths for -the mild rheumatism which was his only illness. It seemed a providential -arrangement, and one which they must use wisely, and if anything could -have been read on the severe countenances of Thomgreen, Rochally might -have guessed that some conspiracy was afoot when he bade his brethren -good-bye after Kirk one Sabbath. - -As soon as it was known that he had fairly departed, and as it was -perfectly certain there could be no communication with him from his -home except a weekly report of the briefest and most prosaic kind by the -foreman, the Session (that is, the Court of Elders) was called together, -and on two successive Sundays the people were summoned to a meeting for -the nomination of elders. It was held on the Monday following the second -Sunday, and was attended by almost the whole congregation. Six names -were proposed for three vacancies, but, of course, the climax of the -proceedings was the nomination of Mr. Andrew Harris, farmer at Rochally, -and the insertion of his name on the paper of nomination. The nomination -papers were given out on the following Sunday, and on the fourth and -last Sunday of Rochally's absence were returned into the hands of the -Session. Before he came home the Session had met, and as every single -communicant, without exception, had voted for Mr. Andrew Harris, farmer -at Rochally, the Session declared him elected, and when he sat in his -pew on the following Sunday he heard the edict for the ordination of -three elders on that day fortnight, and the first name was his own. - -It was creditable to the good manners of the people that though they -held their breath at the critical moment, none of them looked even -sideways to the pew where Rochally sat alone; but the minister's eye -fell on him from the pulpit, and as he noticed Rochally start and flush, -and grow pale, while a look of pain came over his face, the minister -became anxious, and began to regret their well-intentioned plot. -And when, according to the custom of the kirk, he announced that the -aforesaid persons would be ordained this day fortnight, unless “some -valid objection to their life and doctrine be stated to the Kirk Session -at a meeting to be held for that purpose before the service on Wednesday -evening,” and when, even at that distance, he could see Rochally's hand -tighten upon the door of his pew and his head fall forward upon his -breast for an instant, as if he were in pain, he almost wished that they -had not meddled with the secret affairs of a man's life. The minister -was not surprised when Rochally did not call at the manse on Monday or -Tuesday to say that he could not accept the election, although that was -within his power, and he was not surprised, although much grieved, when -he saw Rochally standing in the shadow of the trees not far from the -vestry where the Kirk Session met. Although he had not the faintest idea -of the reason, he was now afraid of what was going to happen, and the -elders, as they came in one by one, having passed Rochally, who stood -apart among the trees, and gave no sign of recognition, were uneasy, -and had a sense of calamity. They knew nothing either, and were not able -even to imagine anything; but they also, having seen Rochally and caught -a faint glimpse of his face, would fain have burned the nomination -papers, and cancelled the whole election. - -The court was opened with prayer, in which the minister was very earnest -that they should be all guided by the Spirit of God and know His will. -And then the minutes were read, wherein the names of those elected were -mentioned, after which the minister declared the time had arrived for -receiving objections to the life and doctrine of the aforesaid persons, -and the beadle, being summoned from the dark kirk where he had been -sitting, was commanded to do his duty. Thereupon, having opened the -outer door of the vestry, as being a public place, he looked into the -darkness, and called upon any persons who could make valid objection -to the life or doctrine of Andrew Harris, farmer at Rochally, that he -should not be ordained an elder, to come forward and declare the same. -Many a time had the beadle made this challenge, and never before had it -been answered, but now, out from the darkness, came Rochally himself, -and entered the vestry. For a moment he was dazzled by the light of the -lamp, though it was never very bright, and as he stood before the -Session he passed his hand over his face. Then he stepped forward to the -table, and, leaning heavily on it with one hand, Rochally unveiled his -secret. - -“Moderator and Elders of the Kirk, I stand here in answer to your -commandment, and in obedience to my own conscience, to give you strong -reasons why Andrew Harris should never be ordained an elder in Christ's -Kirk, and why he is not worthy even to take the sacrament. - -“I ken well that my brethren have often wondered why I wouldna allow -my name to be mentioned for the eldership, and I have often feared that -they judged me as one who despised the call of the kirk, and wouldna put -his hand to the plough. If they did so, they were wrang, for God knows -how I have honoured and loved the Church, and He knows how glad and -proud a man I would have been to carry the vessels of the Lord. But I -dauma, I dauma. - -“It micht have been better if I had told the reason years ago, and saved -mysel' and the brethren much trouble; but it is hard for the Scots heart -to open itsel', and a man is jealous of his secret.' Maybe I sinned in -not confessing to the kirk in this place as I did elsewhere, and as I -confessed to my God. Gin it be so, I have suffered, and now the Lord's -hand is heavy upon me. - -“Lang years ago,” and the strong man trembled, but no elder so much as -lifted his eyes, “I lived for a year, although none here will mind of -it, in another parish, where my father had a farm, and there, when I was -a young man, though no one here knows of it, being careless in my walk -and conversation, and resisting the Grace of God, I fell, and sinned -against the law of Moses and of Christ. - -“What the sin was it matters not now; but it was a great sin, such as -nothing but the blude o' Christ can cleanse away, and the guilt of it -was heavy upon my soul. God was merciful unto me, and His Spirit -moved me to that repentance which needeth not to be repented of. -Sic reparation as I could make I made, and them that were injured I -satisfied; but I have never been satisfied. They're all dead now that -had to do with it, long before they died they had forgotten it; but I -have never forgotten it, and the long years have never wiped it from my -memory. - -“There's ae man I envy every day, and mair the nicht than ever; no the -man who is rich and powerful, na, na, it is the man whose life is clean -and white fra his boyhood until this hour, who can turn over the pages -and let every man look on. One chapter o' my life I read alone every -day, and it canna be blotted out from before my eyes. Their hands maun -be dean which bear the vessels of the Lord, and my hands arena clean; -wherefore I take objection, being a true witness against the life of -Andrew Harris, and declare he is not fit to be an elder of the kirk.” - -While Rochally was still standing, the minister knelt down, and the -elders with him; but Rochally stood, and the minister began to pray. -First of all, he confessed the sins of their youth and of later years -till every man's soul lay bare before his own eyes and the eyes of God, -then he carried them all, their lives and their sins, unto the Cross of -Calvary, and magnified before God the sacrifice for sin and the dying -love of the Saviour, and then he lifted up their souls in supplication -unto God upon His Throne, and besought the Judge of all, for Christ's -sake, to cast their transgressions behind His back and into the depths -of the sea; and, finally, he besought God to grant unto them all the -assurance of His mercy and the peace which passeth all understanding to -possess their hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. But he made no mention -of Rochally or Rochally's sin, so that one would have supposed it was -the minister and the elders, and not Andrew Harris, who were at the Bar. - -When they rose from their knees more than one elder was weeping, and -every man's face was white and serious, and still Rochally stood as if -he desired to go, but was not able till the minister gave the decision -of the court. The Spirit of the Holy Ministry, which is the most awful -office upon earth, and the most solemn, descended in special measure -upon the minister, a man still young and inexperienced, but who was now -coming out from the holy place of the Most High. - -“Andrew Harris, I ask you, in the name of the Kirk whom the Lord loved -and washed from her sins in His own blood, lovest thou the Lord Jesus -Christ?” Then the minister and the elders faded from before Rochally's -eyes, and the faithful, honest man who had sinned so long ago, and wept -so bitterly, stood face to face with the Master. - -“Lord,” said he, for the first time lifting up his head, “Thou knowest -all things; Thou knowest that I love Thee.” - -It was after midnight when the minister wrote out the minute of that -meeting, and it states that an objection was taken to the life of Andrew -Harris; but the Session ruled that it was not relevant, in which ruling -the objector acquiesced, and the Session therefore appointed that Andrew -Harris, farmer at Rochally, be ordained on the day appointed to the -office of elder in the Free Kirk of Thomgreen. - - - - -XXI.--WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN - -WHEN Carmichael was Free Kirk minister of Dramtochty, and in the days of -his youth, he had casual ways, and went at his own free will. He never -came across the moor behind his manse on a summer day, and entered -the cool pine wood which separated it from the ploughed land, without -sitting down beside a certain pool of a burn which ran through the -fringe of the wood. Because the water broke over a little rock and then -gathered in a cup of gravel, and there was a heather bank where he could -he as comfortably as in his favourite study chair, which had seen the -Rebellion, but had changed its covering as well as its creed more than -once since then; because the Highland cattle came to drink at that pool -if you were not fussy and suspicious; and because all the sounds of the -moor--the bleating of the sheep, the cry of the grouse, and the wail -of the whaup and the drone of the bees--mingled in one music, and fell -pleasantly upon your ear. “For five minutes only,” he said to himself, -and then some Highland cows, with their absurd little calves, arrived, -and would have considered it ill-mannered for him to rise; and he fell -a-thinking while time flew. He rose with a start and hurried down to -the main road, and made for the bridge over the Tochty, fearful lest he -should be too late when the messenger came with momentous tidings from -the telegraph office at Kildrummie. - -For two years the Glen had been in the most delightful state of -intellectual ferment, and it was freely said by those who could remember -that conversation had not risen to such a high level for fifty years, -not even during '43. It goes without saying that the subject which -exercised the minds and tongues of the Glen had to do, not with markets, -but with Kirks; and while many had feared that the golden age of the -Disruption would never be repeated in Drumtochty, when children were -taught the doctrine of spiritual independence as they were supping their -porridge, and women spoke freely about the principle of “Coordinate -Jurisdiction with Mutual Subordination” as they hoed turnips in the -fields, even Jamie Soutar was compelled to allow that the present -debate had points of excellence altogether its own. While the spirit of -disruption had wonderfully sharpened the edge of the intellect, the new -spirit of concord which was abroad had still more powerfully quickened -the feelings of the heart. By the fireside, where the guidwife darned -the stockings and the guidman read the _Muirtown Advertiser_ from the -first word of the advertisements to the last word of the printer's name, -out at work where they were planting potatoes or reaping the com, on -the way to market as they walked down to Kildrummie station on Friday -morning or crammed themselves by fives and sixes into Hillocks' -dog-cart, but most of all in the kirkyard or at the Free Kirk door, -men and women had been discussing with unswerving honesty and amazing -subtlety, but with great goodwill and eager longing, how the differences -between the Free Kirk and the Established could be reconciled, and upon -what terms of honour and self-respect they could be united so that there -should be again one Kirk in Scotland, as in the former days. According -to the light which Providence had been pleased to give to other -parishes, which was as twilight to the sunlight of Drum-tochty, they -also argued this great affair, till even Kildrummie had pronounced ideas -on the subject; and Rabbi Saunderson, the minister of Kilbogie, had -announced a course of twenty-five sermons on the “Principle of Unity -in the Christian Church, considered biblically, theologically, -historically, and experimentally.” The ecclesiastics on both sides had -not regarded the movement with conspicuous favour, and, while stating -that the end in view was not only admirable but one they had always -desired, they felt it their duty to point out difficulties. They -mentioned so many, indeed, and expounded them so faithfully, that it -would not have been wonderful if the people had lost heart and abandoned -a hopeless enterprise; for as a rule it had been the ecclesiastics who -spoke and the people who kept silence; the ecclesiastics who passed -measures and the people who paid for them. This time, however, the -younger ministers had taken the matter into their own hands, and refused -to serve themselves heirs to past controversies or to bind themselves to -perpetuate ancient divisions; they were men of another age, and intended -to face the new situation. There had been enough dividing in Scotland -since the days of the Covenanters; it was time there should be some -uniting, and when they were at it they wanted thorough-going and final -union. And the people, who in every country parish had, Sabbath after -Sabbath for more than a generation, passed one another in opposite -directions going to their kirks, began to inquire why they should not -all go in one direction and meet under one roof as their fathers had -done; and when people began to ask that question, both with their heads -and with their hearts, it was bound to be answered in one way. - -The ecclesiastics had yielded under pressure, and as Carmichael went -down to the bridge he recalled, with a keen sense of humour, their -marvellous proceedings and the masterly game which had been played by -the diplomatists of the Kirks, their suave expressions of brotherly -love, their shrewd foresight of every move, their sleepless watchfulness -of one another, their adroit concessions which yielded nothing, their -childlike proposals which would have gained everything, and their -cheerful acquiescence in every delay. But the temper of the people was -not to be trifled with, and if the young party among the clergy were not -skilled in the wiles of Church Courts, they had considerable vigour of -speech, and the managers of affairs were given to understand that they -must bring things quickly to a head. Early last spring the leader of -the Free Kirk had submitted his terms, which the Established Kirk men -studied together for three days and then read in seven different ways, -and they in turn submitted their proposals, which were so simple and -direct that the great Free Kirk man was genuinely disappointed, and -wished that it had been his lot to negotiate with a Roman cardinal. But -the people were getting impatient, and when the Assemblies met in the -end of May, the pleasant spring-time, the terms had been adjusted, and -Carmichael ran over them as he came down the near road through Hillocks' -farm and pronounced them good. That the Free Church and the Established -should unite together; that its legal title should be the Church of -Scotland; that it should retain the ancient endowments and all -the accumulated funds of both the former Churches; that the -newly-constituted Church of Scotland should cease its legal connexion -with the State, but maintain the old parochial system; that the new -Church should re-arrange its resources so as to meet every religious and -moral want in Scotland, and work with the State for the well-being of -the Scots Commonwealth. The motions were proposed about the same time -in the two Assemblies, in speeches worthy of the occasion: in the -Established Kirk by a Scots noble; in the Free Kirk by the ablest -ecclesiastical statesman of his day; Carmichael was thankful that he was -in the Free Kirk Assembly when the motion was carried, with tears -and cheers, none objecting, and that he was in time, with a fearful -struggle, to get his head within the door of the Tolbooth, when the -ministers and elders of the Established Kirk stood up as one man at -the bidding of their moderator, and before Her Majesty's Lord High -Commissioner, and declared for union; and thankful that he was one -of the crowd that poured out of both Assemblies in the High Street of -Edinburgh and heard the bells of St. Giles, which had been the witness -of many a fierce conflict, ringing out the news of peace and concord -through the grey capital of the nation. - -There was still one risk to be run and one barrier to be surmounted, for -the concordat of the Church required the sanction of Parliament. Through -the summer days the battle had been fought in the lobbies and committee -rooms of the House of Commons, and that afternoon it was to be decided; -and up to the last there was a chance that the bill might be thrown out, -and the heart's desire of Scotland once more refused at Westminster. For -there were cross-currents which no man could calculate; there were stiff -old Tories who hated the idea of the Church being disestablished; keen -Radicals who were determined that the Church should be also disendowed; -Episcopalians who were eager that the title of the Church of Scotland -should be left open to be claimed by that respectable, though limited, -dissenting community, which traces its descent through Archbishop Sharpe -and John Graham of Claverhouse; and a balance of men who disliked all -Churches equally, and were always ready to hinder religion, when they -could get an opportunity. If the bill were thrown out it would be a sad -calamity, and Lord Kilspindie had promised to telegraph to Dr. Davidson -the moment the bill passed the Commons; for it had been taken first in -the Lords (and carried with a brisk fight), and Carmichael proposed to -meet the messenger at Tochty bridge, and escort him to the manse. - -It did not, however, surprise Carmichael to find the minister of the -parish of Drumtochty walking to and fro on the level ground from which -the wonderful arch of the ancient bridge sprang, and talking affably -with Hillocks on the prospects of harvest, but keeping all the time a -watchful eye on the distant point on the other side of the Glen where -the road emerged from the pine woods and the Kildrummie messenger would -first be seen. - -“Glad to see you, Carmichael,” said the doctor, with just the faintest -suggestion of excitement in his manner; “I left a message at the manse -that if you called they were to send you down to the bridge, but I -rather suspected you would be here. For myself, I frankly confess -I could neither sit nor read, so I just turned out to wait for the -messenger. It's a historical day, Carmichael, charged with great issues -for Scotland.” - -They climbed the stiff ascent, and stood on the arch through which the -Tochty ran, clear and sparkling, that summer evening. - -“More than a century of Scots history has run since this bridge was -built, some of it sad enough; but, please God, we shall see good days -before they build the new bridge. What hinders the messenger? Kilspindie -expected to telegraph by five at latest, and now it's six o'clock.” The -doctor snuffed uneasily and wiped his eye-glasses. “I wish I had gone -down to Kildrummie. What's that, Carmichael, on the crest of the hill? -Your eyes are quicker than mine.” - -“It's a man on horseback, and we'll soon know who he is, for he's riding -hard. I should recognize that horse. Why, it's Macfarlane's chestnut -that brings me up from the station in forty minutes and something to -spare, and Macfarlane's riding her himself. If the old chap hasn't -saddled a horse and ridden up to bring us the news post-haste! Isn't he -going! He would never come that speed if it were bad news. They've let -it out at the post office, as sure as we're standing here; and, look, -Macfarlane has seen us. He's waving his hat, doctor; the bill has -passed, and the Kirks are one.” They went down the other side of the -bridge, and Carmichael did not look at Dr. Davidson, for the doctor's -stately step was broken, and he was again polishing his eyeglasses. -The chestnut was covered with dust, and so was Macfarlane, and the mare -herself seemed to be triumphant when Macfarlane reined her in on the -other side of the bridge. - -“Half expeckit to see you here, gentlemen,” for even Macfarlane, dealer -in horses, in coals, in manure, and hirer of carriages, was discomposed. -“Message came in at 6.48; had the mare ready; left at 6.60; done the -three miles in thirteen and a half minutes”--all this in one breath; -then, jumping off his horse and taking off his hat, “A telegram for you, -Dr. Davidson.” - -He patted the chestnut on the neck for her good going, and tried to look -as if he did not know what was in the envelope. Dr. Davidson handed the -envelope to Carmichael, who understood the reason, and, stripping it -off, handed him the message. - -“Quiet, lass, quiet!” said Macfarlane. Carmichael straightened himself, -and raised his hand to that weather-beaten soft hat of his, which was -the scandal of the Presbytery; the doctor unfolded the paper with a -shaking hand, a flush passed over his face, the tears--which already -were in his eyes--broke and rolled down his face, and he read out with -a trembling voice--“Bill carried by a majority of two hundred and -thirty-three. God bless the Kirk of Scotland, one again and for -ever!--Kilspindie.” - -“Hip, hip, hurrah!” Carmichael was very young, but Macfarlane might -have known better, who was waving his cap with one hand and holding the -dancing mare with the other; while Hillocks was a spectacle of glory, -standing on the summit of the bridge and throwing in a hoarse shout. -Dr. Davidson took no part in the cheer, for he had turned aside and was -looking to the hill where the Parish Kirk peeped out from the trees, and -there were many thoughts in his mind. - -“Dr. Davidson,” said Carmichael, still holding his hat in his hand, and -tuning his voice to affectionate respect, “you are minister this day -unto every man in the parish of Drumtochty, and you will add to all your -past kindnesses by letting me be your faithful assistant.” - -The old man took Carmichael's hand in both his own, but for once he -could find no words. - -“Ye saw them gang oot, doctor, and ye'll see them come back,” said -Hillocks, descending from the top of the bridge. - -“I honoured them when they went out,” replied the doctor, finding speech -again, “and I love them coming back to their old Kirk.” It was agreed -between Carmichael and the doctor that half an hour from that time the -bells of the two kirks should be rung, and though neither bell dominated -more than the distance of three fields, Dr. Davidson declared that the -Free Church bell was distinctly audible in the kirkyard; while a group -of Free Kirk men gathered round their door remarked to one another that -they had never noticed before how sweet was the sound of the Old Kirk -bell. And they were speaking true, for the bells were ringing in their -hearts. While Parliament had been deliberating on the bill, the two -Kirks had been making their arrangements in faith for the uniting of -congregations, and it had already been determined that Dr. Davidson and -Carmichael should be joint ministers of the parish of Drumtochty, and -that the congregations should worship in the Parish Kirk. When there -was a will in Drumtochty there was always a way, and arrangements -were quickly made that the parish should gather again on the following -Sabbath into the kirk where their fathers had worshipped, and round -which the dust of generations lay. At eleven o'clock the Free Church -congregation met for the last time as a separate flock, in the building -which they had erected with great sacrifice, and which was sanctified by -many sacred memories; and then, after Carmichael had conducted a short -service, and Donald Menzies, one of the elders, had offered up a prayer -of thanksgiving wherein he carried the congregation with him to -the Mercy Seat, and moved even the stiffest, they sang the second -Paraphrase, “O God of Bethel! by whose hand,” and Carmichael pronounced -the benediction, with more than one pause between the words. Then they -went out through the door by which, more than a generation ago, the -congregation had entered, obeying their conscience, and testifying for -the freedom of Christ's Kirk. Without any marshalling or vain ceremony -they fell into a procession, and this was the order in which they went. -First came Carmichael in his gown and bands, his M.A. hood and college -cap, carrying in his hand his mother's Bible, and beside him Bumbrae, -Donald Menzies, Lauchlan Campbell, and the other elders, all dressed as -for the Sacrament. Behind them followed the choir, and then the people -as they pleased, family by family, parents and children together. Thrice -on the road they broke into singing, and these were the Psalms they -sang--the xcviii.-- - - “O sing a new song to the Lord, - For wonders He hath done: - His right hand and His holy arm - Him victory hath won”; - -and the lxxxiv.-- - - “How lovely is Thy dwelling-place, - O Lord of hosts, to me! - The tabernacles of Thy grace - How pleasant, Lord, they be!” - -and the cxxxiii.-- - - “Behold, how good a thing it is, - And how becoming well, - Together such as brethren are - In unity to dwell!” - -They began to sing this Psalm as they were ascending the height on which -the Parish Kirk stood, and when they reached the top of the hill the -sound of the Psalm was still in the air. Then Carmichael and the elders -beheld a heartening spectacle. Dr. Davidson and, his people had also -met for worship in their kirk, and, being told by a swift messenger that -their brethren were at hand, they had come out through the kirkyard and -ranged themselves in two rows along the roadside; while in the centre -of the high road, and in front of his people, stood the parish minister, -with his ruling elder, Drum-sheugh, by his side. The two ministers faced -one another, and the people stood perfectly still; the glorious sunshine -poured down upon their heads, and on either side the fields were golden -unto the harvest. Clear but tender was Dr. Davidson's voice. “Reverend -and dearly-beloved brother, I greet you, your elders, and your -congregation in the name of the Lord, and, as senior minister of this -parish, I bid you welcome to the Kirk of Drumtochty.” - -And then Carmichael--“Reverend and honoured father in the Gospel of -our Lord Jesus Christ, my people and I thank God that there is now one -congregation in Drumtochty, and that you are our minister.” - -Drumsheugh grasped Bumbrae's hand, but what passed between those two -worthy men no one heard, and then Dr. Davidson and Carmichael headed the -united procession, with the elders behind them; and as they moved down -the sideway between the hedges, the Old Kirk folk fell in with the Free -Kirk, so that they passed through the kirkyard one united company, and -as they went they sang the Psalm cxxii.-- - - “I joy'd when to the house of God, - Go up, they said to me. - Jerusalem, within thy gates - Our feet shall standing be.” - -And by a happy coincidence they were singing the last words as the -ministers and elders went in through the door-- - - “Now, for my friends' and brethren's sakes, - Peace be in thee, I'll say. - And for the house of God our Lord, - I'll seek thy good alway.” - -It had been arranged between them, who were indeed as father and son, -that Dr. Davidson should take the service and Carmichael should preach -the sermon, and when the people were all seated, neither Established nor -Free now, but all Scots Kirk men with one heart, one faith, one love, -Dr. Davidson gave out another of the glorious Psalms, whose ancient -traditions and wealth of spiritual emotion had served the people so well -that day. - -“Let us worship God this day, and sing unto the praise of His glorious -name Psalm cxxvi.” - - “When Sion's bondage God turn'd back, - As men that dream'd were we.” - -But he was not able to read further, and the congregation, who -understood, and whose own hearts were full, broke into the singing; and -at the noise thereof Carmichael awoke, for it was only a dream. - -“What might have been,” he said to himself, with wistful regret, as he -descended the hill, and then his heart lifted, “and, please God, what is -going to be before my day is done.” - - - - -XXII.--THE VISION OF THE SOUL - - -THERE were many modest homes in the Glen, but the humblest of them all -was that of Bell Robb, where she lived with Jean, her sister, and blind -Marjorie. It had only one room, and that had only one window. A tall man -could stand upright only in the centre, and the hearth was so near the -top of the chimney that it was a fight in the winter time between the -fire and the snow, and the snow used to win the battle before morning. -There was a box bed at the back of the room where Bell and Jean -slept, and the lowliest of little beds just below the window had been -Marjorie's home night and day for many a long year, because she had -not only been blind from her birth, but since middle age had also been -paralyzed. There was a table and two chairs, and a dresser on which -the humble stock of crockery was carefully displayed. From above the -fireplace the humblest of oil lamps, called a cruizie, projected, but -the cottage had two brass candlesticks which were never used, but were -polished like unto fine gold and were the glory of the home. - -If providence had been unkind to any person in the Glen it was to -Marjorie, for her birth had been a tragedy, and the helpless child, -blind and feeble, had been flung upon the world. She had never known -father or mother, she had never seen the primroses in the Tochty woods -when spring made her first visit, nor the purple of the heather in -autumn time, nor the golden com in the field before her door, nor the -sunshine upon the Burn down below. She had no kinsfolk to take charge of -her, she had no claim upon any one except the poor law authorities, and -had she been bom into a parish like Kilbogie the workhouse had been her -only asylum. But it was a kindly little world into which this poor waif -and stray had come--a world which had not many words nor much money, -whose ways were curious and whose manner was austere, but whose heart -was big and warm. Drumtochty had its laws of public policy which -Government itself was never able to over-ride, which every man and woman -in the Glen set themselves to enforce. And one was that no native of -the Glen should ever be sent to the coldness and bondage of a workhouse; -that however poor he might be and however long he lived, he must be kept -in the shelter of our pine woods where he could see the Tochty run. As -a matter of fact, this was not so great a burden on the neighbours, for -Drumtochty folk had a rooted objection, which not even the modern spirit -creeping up into the Glen could overcome, against being paupers or -depending on any person save on themselves and God. Drumtochty had no -pity for wastrels and very little sympathy with shiftless people, but -Marjorie, poor Marjorie, she had the spirit to work--we judged she had -about the highest spirit in the Glen--but what could she do without -sight and with her trembling hands? So the Glen adopted Marjorie, and -declared in wayside talk and many a kirkyard conference that she had -given them more than they had ever given to her. - -Bell Robb and Jean, her sister, earned their living by hoeing turnips, -lifting potatoes, binding at harvest and gathering the stones off -the field--which were ever coming up to the surface in our poor thin -soil--and they made between them on an average from January to December -nearly twelve shillings a week. They declared that being two solitary -women providence had intended they should have Marjorie, and now for -thirty years she had been with them, and they spent upon her twice as -much as they received in grants from the parish inspector, and declared -with brazen effrontery that they were making a little fortune out of -her. They also gave sixpence a month to the sustentation fund of the -Free Kirk, and a shilling at a great collection, and if there was any -little presentation in the Glen they had a shilling for that also. How -they did those things was only known to God. Their faces were lined by -labour and burned brown by the sun, but they looked well in the light of -the Sacrament, for they were partakers of the Lord's Cross; their hands -were rough and hard with field labour, but very gentle and kindly -when they waited upon Marjorie. And when Marjorie began to relate the -catalogue of her blessings, she always put next to her Saviour Bell and -her sister Jean. The two sisters have had their humble funeral years -ago, and their tired bodies with Marjorie's body of humiliation were -laid to rest in the old kirkyard, and theirs was then the reward of Him -who said, “I was a stranger and ye took me in.” Drumsheugh, returning -from Muirtown market one afternoon by road, dropped in to pass the time -o' day with Marjorie--leaving half a pound of tea upon the dresser--and -was arrested by the humility of her bed. He was overheard saying “Sall” - to himself as he returned to the main road with the tone of a man who -had come to a resolution, and next Friday he drove up from Muirtown with -a small iron bedstead, arranged in parts over his dogcart, while he sat -with dignity upon the mattress. The installation of Marjorie into her -new couch was the event of her life, and for weeks the Glen dropped in, -partly to see Drumsheugh's amazing gift, but chiefly to hear Marjorie on -his unparalleled kindness and its unparalleled splendour. She had -felt it over inch by inch, and knew the pattern to a turn, but she -was chiefly concerned that her visitors should observe and rightly -appreciate the brass knobs at the four corners. - -“Drumsheugh micht have got an ordinary bed for half the money, but -naething wud sateesfy him but brass knobs. Ye may say that I canna -see them, but I can feel them, and I ken that they're there, and the -neighbours see them, and to think o't that I'm lying here like a queen -on a spring bed with four brass knobs. And me that has no claim on -Drumsheugh or ony other body, juist crowned wi' loving kindness. I'll -need to ask grace to be kept humble.” - -According to Marjorie indeed her whole life had been arranged on the -principle of Drumsheugh's giving: instead of iron she had received -brass, yea, much fine gold, and all things had worked together for her -good. When her minister Carmichael forgot himself one day and pitied her -for her afflictions she was amazed, and had to remind herself that he -had only come to the Glen. For was it not her helplessness that had won -her so much love, so that from high Glen Urtarch down to the borders of -Kilbogie every man, woman and child was her friend, dropping in to see -her, bringing her all the news, and making her so many little presents -that she was “fair ashamed”? And she reminded John Carmichael that if -she, Marjorie, had been an able-bodied woman, he would not have paid her -so many visits, nor told her so many “bonny stories.” - -“Mr. Carmichael, I'll have much to answer for, for I've been greatly -blessed. I judge masel' the maist priveeleged woman in Drumtochty.” And -then Carmichael, who had his own troubles and discontentments, used to -go away a wiser and a better man. - -Marjorie saw the hand of an all,-wise and all-loving Providence in the -arrangements of her home. For one thing it faced south, and she got the -warmth and the shining of the sun through her little window, and there -was an advantage in the door opening straight from the garden into the -room, for the scent of the flowers came in to her bed, and she knew when -the wallflowers had begun to bloom and when the first rosebud above the -doorway had opened. She would have liked very well to have gone to the -Kirk with a goodly company, but lying alone on her bed through the hours -of service she had time for prayer, and I have heard her declare that -the time was too short for her petitions. “For, ye see, I have sae mony -friends to remember, and my plan is to begin at the top of the Glen and -tak' them family by family till I come to the end of the parish. And wud -ye believe it, I judge that it takes me four complete days to bring a' -the fowk I love before the Throne of Grace.” - -As for her darkness of earthly sight, this, she insisted, was the chief -good which God had bestowed upon her, and she made out her case with the -ingenuity of a faithful and contented heart. - -“If I dinna see”--and she spoke as if this was a matter of doubt and she -were making a concession for argument's sake--“there's naebody in the -Glen can hear like me. There's no a footstep of a Drum-tochty man comes -to the door but I ken his name, and there's no a voice oot on the road -that I canna tell. The birds sing sweeter to me than to onybody else, -and I can hear them cheeping to one another in the bushes before they -go to sleep. And the flowers smell sweeter to me--the roses and the -carnations and the bonny moss rose--and I judge that the oatcake and -milk taste the richer because I dinna see them. Na, na, ye're no to -think that I've been ill treated by my God, for if He didna give me ae -thing, He gave me mony things instead. - -“And mind ye, it's no as if I'd seen once and lost my sight; that micht -ha' been a trial, and my faith micht have failed. I've lost naething; my -life has been all getting.” - -And she said confidentially one day to her elder, Donald Menzies-- - -“There's a mercy waitin' for me that'll crown a' His goodness, and I'm -feared when I think o't, for I'm no worthy.” - -“What iss that that you will be meaning, Marjorie,” said the elder. - -“He has covered my face with His hand as a father plays with his bairn, -but some day sune He will lift His hand, and the first thing that -Marjorie sees in a' her life will be His ain face.” - -And Donald Menzies declared to Bumbrae on the way home that he would -gladly go blind all the days of his life if he were as sure of that -sight when the day broke and the shadows fled away. - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of His Majesty Baby and Some Common People, by -Ian MacLaren - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIS MAJESTY BABY *** - -***** This file should be named 43727-0.txt or 43727-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/7/2/43727/ - -Produced by David Widger - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/43727-0.zip b/old/43727-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index bd21db2..0000000 --- a/old/43727-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/43727-8.txt b/old/43727-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6f78777..0000000 --- a/old/43727-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5261 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's His Majesty Baby and Some Common People, by Ian MacLaren - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: His Majesty Baby and Some Common People - -Author: Ian MacLaren - -Release Date: September 15, 2013 [EBook #43727] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIS MAJESTY BABY *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - - -HIS MAJESTY BABY AND SOME COMMON PEOPLE - -By Ian MacLaren - -1902 - -To Andrew Carnegie, - -The Munificent Benefactor Of - -Scots Students - - - - -I.--HIS MAJESTY BABY - -UNTIL the a'bus stopped and the old gentleman entered, we had been a -contented and genial company, travelling from a suburb into the city in -high, good fellowship, and our absolute monarch was Baby. His mother -was evidently the wife of a well-doing artisan, a wise-looking, capable, -bonnie young woman; and Baby was not a marvel of attire, nor could he -be called beautiful. He was dressed after a careful, tidy, comfortable -fashion, and he was a clear-skinned, healthy child; that is all you -would have noticed had you met the two on the street. In a'bus where -there is nothing to do for forty minutes except stare into one another's -faces, a baby has the great chance of his life, and this baby was -made to seize it. He was not hungry, and there were no pins about his -clothes, and nobody had made him afraid, and he was by nature a human -soul. So he took us in hand one by one, till he had reduced us all to a -state of delighted subjection, to the pretended scandal and secret -pride of his mother. His first conquest was easy, and might have been -discounted, for against such an onset there was no power of resistance -in the elderly woman opposite--one of the lower middles, fearfully -stout, and of course a grandmother. He simply looked at her--if he -smiled, that was thrown in--for, without her knowledge, her arms had -begun to shape for his reception--so often had children lain on that -ample resting-place. "Bless 'is little 'eart; it do me good to see him." -No one cared to criticize the words, and we remarked to ourselves how -the expression changes the countenance. Not heavy and red, far less -dull, the proper adjective for the face is motherly. The next passenger, -just above Grannie, is a lady, young and pretty, and a mother? Of -course; did you not see her look Baby over, as an expert at her -sharpest, before she grows old and is too easily satisfied? Will she -approve, or is there something wrong which male persons and grandmothers -cannot detect? The mother is conscious of inspection, and adjusts a -ribbon His Majesty had tossed aside--one of his few decorations which -he wore on parade for the good of the public and his own glory--and then -she meekly awaited approval. For a moment we were anxious, but that was -our foolishness, for in half a minute the lady's face relaxed, and she -passed Baby. She leant forward and asked questions, and we overheard -scraps of technical detail: "My first... fourteen months... six teeth... -always well." Baby was bored, and apologised to the'bus. "Mothers, you -know--this is the way they go on; but what a lot they do for us! so we -must be patient." Although rank outsiders--excluded from the rites of -the nursery--yet we made no complaint, but were rather pleased at this -conference. One was a lady, the other a working woman; they had not -met before, they were not likely to meet again, but they had forgotten -strangeness and differences in the common bond of motherhood. Opposite -me a priest was sitting and saying his office, but at this point his -eye fell on the mothers, and I thought his lips shaped the words "Sancta -Maria" before he went on with the appointed portion, but that may have -been my fancy. The'bus will soon be dropping into poetry. Let us be -serious and stare before us, as becometh well-bred English people. - -Baby has wearied of inaction, and has begun another campaign, and -my heart sinks, for this time he courts defeat; On the other side of -Grannie and within Baby's sphere of influence was a man about whose -profession there could be little doubt, even if he had not a bag on his -knee and were not reading from a parchment document. After a long and -serious consideration of the lawyer's clear-cut, clean-shaven, bloodless -face, Baby leant forward and tapped gently on the deed, and then, when -the keen face looked up in quick inquiry, Baby replied with a smile -of roguish intelligence, as if to say, "Full of big words as long as -myself, but quite useless; it could all have been said in a sentence, -as you and I know quite well; by the way, that parchment would make an -excellent drum; do you mind me? A tune has just come into my head." - -The lawyer, of course, drew away the deed, and frowned at the insolence -of the thing? No, he did not--there is a soul in lawyers, if you know -how to find it. He smiled. Well, it was not a first-rate smile, but -I swear that it was genuine, and the next time he did it better, and -afterwards it spread all over his face and lighted up his eyes. He had -never been exposed in such a genial, irresistible way before, and so he -held the drum, and Baby played a variation on "Rule Britannia" with much -spirit, while grannie appealed for applause. - -"If 'e don't play as well as the band in 'yde Park of a Sunday." - -After a well deserved rest of forty seconds, during which we wagged our -heads in wonder, Baby turned his attention to his right-hand neighbour, -and for the balance of the minute examined her with compassion. An old -maid without question, with her disposition written on the thin, tightly -drawn lips, and the hard, grey eyes. None of us would care to trifle -with... Will he dare?... if he has not! That was his chief stroke of -genius, and it deserved success--when, with an expression of unaffected -pity, he put out his soft, dimpled hand and gently stroked her cheek. -"Poor thing, all alone,'lone,'lone," he cooed in her ear, as if to say -with liquid baby speech, "I'm so solly, solly, solly, so velly, velly, -velly solly." Did I say that her eyes were tender and true enough to -win a man's heart and keep it, and that her lips spoke of patience and -gentleness? If I did not, I repair my neglect. She must have been a -beautiful woman in her youth--no, no, to-day, just when she inclines -her head ever so slightly, and Baby strokes her cheek again, and cooes, -"Pretty, pretty, pretty, and so velly, velly, velly good." Was not that -a lovely flush on her cheek?--oh, the fool of a man who might have had -that love. She opens a neat little bag, and as this was an imperial -incident we watched without shame. Quite so; she is to be away all -day, and has got a frugal luncheon, and--it's all she can do in return. -Perhaps he cannot eat it. I don't know, nor does she; that's the pity of -it, poor soul, baby-ways are a mystery to her; but would he refuse that -biscuit? Not he; he makes an immense to do over it, and shows it to his -mother and all his loyal subjects; and he was ready to be kissed, but -she did not like to kiss him. Peace be with thy shy, modest soul, the -Christ-child come into thine heart! - -Two passengers on Baby's left had endured these escapades with patient -and suffering dignity. When a boy is profoundly conscious that he -is--well, a man--and yet a blind and unfeeling world conspires to treat -him as--well, a child--he must protect himself and assert his position. -Which he does, to the delight of everybody with any sense of humour, by -refusing indignantly to be kissed by his mother--or at least sisters--in -public, by severely checking any natural tendency to enthusiasm about -anything except sport, by allowing it to be understood that he has -exhausted the last remaining pleasure and is fairly burnt out. Dear boy, -and all the time ready to run a mile to see a cavalry regiment drill, -and tormented by a secret hankering after the Zoological Gardens. These -two had been nice little chaps two years ago, and would be manly -fellows two years hence. Meanwhile they were provoking, and required -chastisement or regeneration. Baby was to them a "kid," to be treated -with contempt, and when in a paroxysm of delight over the folly of a -law paper he had tilted one of the young men's hats, that blase ancient -replaced it in position with a bored and weary air. How Baby had taken -in the situation I cannot guess, but he had his mind on the lads, and -suddenly, while they were sustaining an elaborate unconcern, he flung -himself back and crowed--yes, joyfully crowed--with rosy, jocund -countenance in the whites of the eyes of the two solemnities. One raised -his eyebrows, and the other looked at the roof in despair; but I had -hopes, and who could resist this bubbling, chortling mirth? Next minute -one chuckles joyfully, and the other tickles Baby just at the right spot -below the chin--has a baby at home after all, and loves it--declaring -aloud that he is "a jolly little beggar." Those boys are all right; -there is a sound heart below the little affectations, and they are going -to be men. - -This outburst of His Majesty cheered us all mightily, and a young woman -at the top of the'bus catching his eye, waved her hand to him, with -a happy smile. Brown glove, size six and a quarter, perhaps six, much -worn, and jacket also not of yesterday; but everything is well made, -and in perfect taste. Milk-white teeth, hazel eyes. Grecian nose, what a -winsome girl!--and let me see, she takes off a glove--yes, is wearing -an engagement ring: a lucky fellow, for she must be good with those eyes -and that merry smile. Daughter of a doctor or clergyman who died before -he could provide for his family; a teacher, one guesses, and to-day -off duty, going to meet her fianc in the city; and then the three--her -mother, that dear woman with hair turning grey--will go upon the river, -and come home in the sweet summer evening, full of content. As soon as -he gets a rise in the office they will marry, and she will also have her -gift, as every woman should. But where am I now?--let that Baby bear the -blame. - -We had one vacant place, and that was how the old gentleman intruded on -our peace; but let me make every excuse for him. It is aggravating to -stand on the edge of the pavement and wave your umbrella ostentatiously -to a'bus which passes you and draws up fifteen yards ahead, to make your -dangerous way along a slippery street with hansoms bent upon your life, -to be ordered to "hurry up," by an impatient conductor and ignominiously -hauled on to a moving 'bus. For an elderly man of military appearance and -short temper it was not soothing, and he might have been excused a word -or two, but he distinctly exceeded. - -He insisted in language of great directness and simplicity that the -conductor had seen him all the time; that if he didn't he ought to have -been looking; that he--the Colonel--was not a fox-terrier to run after -a'bus in the mud; that the conductor was an impertinent scoundrel, and -that he would have him dismissed, with other things and words unworthy -even of a retired Anglo-Indian. The sympathy of the'bus did not go out -to him, and when he forced himself in between the lawyer and Grannie, -and, leaning forward with his hands on his cane, glared at us -impartially, relations were strained. A cut on his left cheek and a -bristly white moustache, half hiding, half concealing a cruel mouth, did -not commend the new passenger to a peaceable company. Baby regarded the -old man with sad attention, pained at his unlicensed talk, but full -of charity, and at last he indicates that his fancy is to examine the -silver head of the Colonel's cane. The Colonel, after two moments' -hesitation, removes his hands and gives full liberty. On second -thoughts, he must have got that cut in some stiff fight; wonder whether -he is a V.G. Baby moves the cane back and forwards to a march of his own -devising--the Colonel actively assisting. Now that I see it in a proper -light, his moustache is soft and sets off the face excellently. Had it -not been the cut puckering the corner of the upper lip, that would have -been a very sweet mouth for a man, or even for a woman. Baby is not -lifted above all human weaknesses--preserve us from perfect people--and -he indicates a desire to taste as well as handle the silver head. The -Colonel is quite agreeable--the most good-natured man you could meet in -a day's journey. But Baby's guardian objects, and history warns us of -the dangers which beset a collision between an absolute monarch and his -faithful Commons. We were all concerned, but the crisis is safe in -the Colonel's hands. He thrusts his hand within the tightly-buttoned -frock-coat and produces a gold hunting-watch--crested, did you notice, -and... yes, just what every father has done for his baby since watches -were invented--before that a fist served the purpose--he blew, the lid -flew open. Baby blew, and the lid flew open faster and farther. Grannie -would like to know whether any baby could have done the trick better, -but there was no use asking us. "Reminds me of my boy at that age... -Bailed on frontier last year." Is much ashamed of this confidence, and -we all look unconscious. What a fine, simple old fellow he is! - -"Saved up, has he"--the Colonel is speaking to the mother--"to give Baby -and you a week at Ramsgate?... he's the right sort, your husband... it's -for Baby, not for you, to get him some fol-de-rol, you know... he's done -a lot of good to a crusty old chap."... The conductor has taken in the -scene with huge delight, and closes it just at the right point. "Your -club, General; just wait till the'bus stops.... Can ye get near the -kerb, Bill? Now, that's right, take care, sir, plenty of time... Oh, -that was nothing, might'ave seen you sooner... thank ye, I do smoke at a -time... Mornin', General; all right, Bill." The Colonel was standing -on the broad top step of the "Veteran's" smiling and waving his hand; -the'bus waved back, and the conductor touched his cap. "A gentleman -every inch; cads ain't mide that wy," and Baby danced for sheer -Christian joy, since there is no victory like Love. - - - - -II.--NEWS OF A FAMOUS VICTORY - - -HE had been talking that morning at the Office of the siege of -Ladysmith, for six relatives of the family were at the front, three -with Sir George White in the besieged place, and three with Sir Redvers -Buller, fighting for their deliverance. Word had come to the house the -night before that Ladysmith might be relieved any hour, and every -one knew that unless help came speedily, the garrison would have to -surrender. Duty took me to Cambridge that day, and I had gone upstairs -to get ready, and coming down again I heard a shout in the hall as -if something had happened, but it did not occur to me what it was. My -hostess was speaking excitedly somewhere, and I could not catch what she -was saying. Servants had rushed out from bedrooms and other places, and -were standing on the breakfast-table in a house near the War landings. -As I reached the hall the butler, a most stately personage, broke forth -from his quarters and rushed past me carrying his coat on his arm, and -then in his shirt sleeves, having forgotten to put on his coat, and -without a hat--he will likely deny this, but he was a spectacle for gods -and men--he ran, yes, he who was intended by nature to be an archbishop, -ran across the square. Then I understood, and turned to a footman, who -looked as if he would like to follow the butler. - -"Ladysmith," was all I said. - -"Yes," he cried; "word come, War Office, sent here, butler gone, make -sure"; then he went out to the doorstep to catch the first sight of the -returning butler. Meanwhile my hostess had come down to the hall, and -there had gathered the household of all kinds and degrees--my host and -the other guests had gone out--housemaids, ladies' maids, kitchen-maids, -footmen, her majesty the cook, and every other person beneath the roof, -high and low, and we were all trembling lest there had been some mistake -in the message, and the news was not true. The butler came across St. -James's Square, and when he saw us standing--forgetting himself again, -but now he had his coat on--he waved triumphantly, and then we knew -that Ladysmith was saved. We gave some sort of cheer and shook hands -indiscriminately, each one with his neighbour, and with two or three -neighbours, and talked together, mingling names of Generals and -relatives, and places, and battles, while the butler, who had arrived -and regained his breath, but not yet his unapproachable dignity, assured -us that the siege was lifted, and that White, and what remained of his -gallant men, were unconquered. - -It was time for me to start, and I told the hansom man to drive round by -the War Office, that I might see this great thing. When we got down -the Press were just leaving with the intelligence, and the first of the -public were reading the news. Each man took the news in his own fashion, -one laughing and slapping his legs, another crying and speaking -to himself, a third rushing out to cheer, and I, why I, being an -unemotional Scot, remembered that if I fooled away any more time, -reading news of victories, I might lose my train, so I rushed back to -the hansom. - -"Is't all correct?" the driver leant down from his perch, determined -not to let himself go till he was perfectly certain that, not only the -straight tip had been given, but that at last the event had come off. - -"All right," I said; "Buller's army have driven back the Boers, and the -advance guard has entered Ladysmith." - -Whereupon he whipped off his hat, and standing up in his place, a stout, -red-faced Englishman in sporting dress, he gave a cheer all on his own -account, and then when I got in he opened the trap and shouted down, -"Old Buller's done it; he had a bloomin' tough job, but he's a game -sportsman, and I said he'd do it. And old Buller's done it." Again he -celebrated the event with a cheer, and we started for Charing Cross. - -Something occurred to me, and I pushed the trap open. "Look here," I -said, "the people near the War Office have heard the news, but after we -pass Piccadilly Circus you'll be the first man to tell that the siege is -raised." - -"Right, sir, I'm on the job. Old Buller's done it." By the time we -reached Bloomsbury he had the whole country to himself, and he did his -duty manfully. As we crossed a thoroughfare, he would shout to the'bus -drivers on either side, "Ladysmith relieved; just come from the War -Office. Old Buller's done it." Then in an instant, before we plunged -into the opposite street, one could see the tidings run both ways, -from 'bus to 'bus, from cab to cab, and the hats waving in the air, and -hear, "Ladysmith and Buller." Bloomsbury is a fearfully decorous and -immovable district, inhabited by professors and British Museum students, -and solid merchants, and professional men, but my driver for once -stirred up Bloomsbury. A householder would be standing on his doorstep -in tall hat and frock coat, well brushed, and with a daintily folded -umbrella under his left arm, fastening the left button of the second -glove, and looking out upon the world from the serene superiority of a -single eyeglass. Then he would catch sight of us, and the sound of -something my driver was flinging to the men on a furniture van. - -"What's that?" he would cry in a sharp, excited, insistent voice; -"anything about Ladysmith?" - -"Relieved," from the hansom top. "War Office news. Old Buller's done -it." - -Down fell the umbrella on the step, and down came the eyeglass from -the eye, and with an answering cheer the unstarched, enthusiastic, -triumphant, transformed householder bolted into his home to make it -known from attic to kitchen that White and his men had not fought in -vain. - -Round the dustbin at the corner of a street half a dozen street boys were -gathered, and the driver in his glory passed a word to them also. They -did not know where they would get their dinner, and they had not had -much breakfast, their whole stock of clothes would not have been worth -1s. 9d., and not one of them had a cap, but they also were a bit of -England, and this victory was theirs, and the last I saw of them they -were standing each one upon his head and waving joyfully with his feet. - -"See, sir, how the kids took it," for my driver was getting more -magnificent every minute; "said all along old Buller would do it." - -Coming down Euston Road was one blaze of glory, and when we swept into -King's Cross Station at the gallop, and my driver saw the crowd of -waiting porters and other hangers-on, an audience as yet unspoiled and -waiting, ready for such news, it was, I take it, the greatest moment in -his life. He pulled up the horse on his haunches, and again stood up on -his high place. - -"Straight from the War Office, as hard as we could drive; it's all right -at Ladysmith--the siege is lifted, and old Buller's done it"; and then, -to crown the occasion, "Three cheers for General Buller." - -He led from the top, and they joined from below, and so great was the -excitement that when I offered the usual tip to the porter to carry my -things to the carriage, he flatly refused to take it. - -"Hexcuse me, sir, not to-day; I ain't that sort. You brought the news of -Ladysmith." Which indeed was all my share of the glory of the passage: -the rest belonged to my driver, who was indeed a Mercury fit for the -work of the gods. - -Just as the train was starting a man arrived with a pile of newspapers -to sell them on the downward journey, for the special editions with the -relief of Ladysmith had been got out with vast celerity. It was a pretty -sight when the train stopped at some country station to see the man jump -out and hear him shout the news, while the people, a moment ago stolid -and indifferent, crowded round him to buy the paper. And then the train -went on its way, followed by a cheer, because Ladysmith was safe. At one -station two respectable country women got into the compartment where I -had been alone, and they had been so eager, as their kind is, to secure -their places, that they had not caught the news before the train left -the station. By-and-by they began talking together, and it appeared that -the elderly woman had a son at the front, a reservist in an infantry -regiment with General Buller, while the other was the wife of a -reservist who was with the cavalry under General French. It was hard -lines, one could not but feel, for those women to have a son and a -husband taken away from their homes and peaceful employment, and sent -out to hardship and danger. And it would not have been wonderful if they -had complained of their lot. But no, my heart swelled with pride as in -a corner of the carriage, and behind my newspaper, I heard the mother and -the wife exchanging news from the seat of campaign, and talking cheerily -of critical affairs. Till at last, and quite suddenly, trouble arose, -and there might have been a hot quarrel in that compartment. - -"My man's all right," said the wife; "he's with French, you know, and -French looks after his men, 'e does. Jim says as 'ow 'is General won't -let 'is men into any traps." - -"Who are ye getting hat may I ask?" said the elderly lady, flushing -purple with indignation--"talking about traps. If it's General Buller -ye're meanin', hexcuse me telling you, 'e don't get 'is men into traps. My -boy says that he 'ad the hardest job of them hall, 'ad General Buller, and -George, 'e writes and says to me in 'is last letter, 'you just wait and -see if General Buller don't do it'--them's 'is very words, 'you just -wait and see if General Buller don't do it.'" - -The younger woman explained she had been making no reflections on -General Buller, but only had been telling how proud her husband was of -his Commander, but nothing would appease the old lady. - -"I know nothing about French, and I say nothing against French, but I -wish you to understand that Buller is a good old sort, and, as sure as -you're sitting there in this carriage,'e'll do the job." - -Then I laid down my newspaper, and addressed the reservist's mother. - -"Madam," I said, "your son was right, and Buller is a good old sort; -he's done the job, and Ladysmith is safe." - -We all shook hands, two women wept, but not for sorrow, and a man looked -out of the window, intent upon the scenery. - - - - -III.--A MODEST SCHOLAR - - -BEING a household of moderate attainments, and not being at all superior -people, we were gravely concerned on learning that it was our duty to -entertain the distinguished scholar, for our pride was chastened by -anxiety and we had once received moderators. His name was carried far -and wide on the wings of fame, and even learned people referred to him -with a reverence in the tone, because it was supposed there was almost -nothing within the range of languages and philosophy and theology which -he did not know, and that if there happened to be any obscure department -he had not yet overtaken, he would likely be on the way to its conquest. -We speculated what like he would be--having only heard rumours--and -whether he would be strangely clothed, we discussed what kind of company -we could gather to meet such a man, and whether we ought, that is the -two trembling heads of the household, to read up some subject beforehand -that we might be able at least to know where he was if we could not -follow him. And we were haunted with the remembrance of a literary -woman who once condescended to live with us for two days, and whose -conversation was so exhausting that we took it in turns like the -watch on board ship, one standing on the bridge with the spin-drift of -quotations flying over his head, and the other snatching a few minutes' -sleep to strengthen her for the storm. That overwhelming lady was only -the oracle of a circle after all, but our coming visitor was known to -the ends of the earth. - -It was my place to receive him at the station, and pacing up and -down the platform, I turned over in my mind appropriate subjects for -conversation in the cab, and determined to lure the great man into a -discussion of the work of an eminent Oxford philosopher which had just -been published, and which I knew something about. I had just arranged -a question which I intended to submit for his consideration, when -the express came in, and I hastened down the first-class carriages to -identify the great man. High and mighty people, clothed in purple and -fine linen, or what corresponds to such garments in our country, were -descending in troops with servants and porters waiting upon them, but -there was no person that suggested a scholar. Had he, in the multitude -of his thoughts, forgotten his engagement altogether, or had he left the -train at some stopping-place and allowed it to go without him--anything -is possible with such a learned man. - -Then I saw a tall and venerable figure descend from a third-class -compartment and a whole company of genuine "third classers" handing -out his luggage while he took the most affectionate farewell of them. -A working man got out to deposit the scholar's Gladstone bag upon the -platform while his wife passed out his umbrella, and another working man -handled delicately a parcel of books. The scholar shook hands with every -one of his fellow-passengers including children, and then I presented -myself, and looked him in the face. He was rather over six feet in -height, and erect as a sapling, dressed in old-fashioned and well -brushed black clothes, and his face placed me immediately at ease, for -though it was massive and grave, with deep lines and crowned with -thick white hair, his eyes were so friendly and sincere, had such an -expression of modesty and affection, that even then, and on the first -experience, I forgot the gulf between us. Next instant, and almost -before I had mentioned my name he seized me by the hand, and thanked me -for my coming. - -"This, my good sir," he said with his old-fashioned courtesy, "is a -kindness which I never for an instant anticipated, and when I remember -your many important engagements (important!) and the sacrifice which -this gracious act (gracious!) must have entailed upon you, I feel this -to be an honour, sir, for which you will accept this expression of -gratitude." It seemed as if there must have been something wrong in our -imagination of a great man's manner, and when he insisted, beyond my -preventing, in carrying his bag himself, and would only allow me with -many remonstrances to relieve him of the books; when I had difficulty -in persuading him to enter a cab because he was anxious to walk to our -house, our fancy portrait had almost disappeared. Before leaving the -platform he had interviewed the guard and thanked him by both word and -deed for certain "gracious and mindful attentions in the course of the -journey." - -My wife acknowledged that she had been waiting to give the great man -afternoon tea in fear and trembling, but there was something about him -so winsome that she did not need even to study my face, but felt at once -that however trying writing-women and dilletante critics might be, one -could be at home with a chief scholar. When I described the guests who -were coming--to meet him at dinner--such eminent persons as I could -gather--he was overcome by the trouble we had taken, but also alarmed -lest he should be hardly fit for their company, being, as he explained -himself, a man much restricted in knowledge through the just burden of -professional studies. And before he went to his room to dress he had -struck up an acquaintance with the youngest member of the family, who -seemed to have forgotten that our guest was a very great man, and had -visited a family of Japanese mice with evident satisfaction. During -dinner he was so conscious of his poverty of attainment in the presence -of so many distinguished people that he would say very little, but -listened greedily to everything that fell from the lips of a young -Oxford man who had taken a fair degree and was omniscient. After dinner -we wiled him into a field where very few men have gone, and where he -was supposed to know everything that could be known, and then being once -started he spoke for forty minutes to our huge delight with such -fulness and accuracy of knowledge, with such lucidity and purity of -speech--allowing for the old-fashioned style--that even the Oxford man -was silent and admired. - -Once and again he stopped to qualify his statement of some other -scholar's position lest he should have done him injustice, and in the -end he became suddenly conscious of the time he had spoken and implored -every one's pardon, seeing, as he explained "that the gentlemen present -will likely have far more intimate knowledge of this subject than I can -ever hope to attain." He then asked whether any person present had ever -seen a family of Japanese mice, and especially whether they had ever -seen them waltzing, or as he described it "performing their circular -motions of the most graceful and intricate nature, with almost -incredible continuance." And when no one had, he insisted on the -company going to visit the menagerie, which was conduct not unbecoming a -gentleman, but very unbecoming a scholar. - -Next morning, as he was a clergyman, I asked him to take family worship, -and in the course of the prayer he made most tender supplication for the -sick relative of "one who serves in this household," and we learned -that he had been conversing with the housemaid who attended to his room, -having traced some expression of sorrow on her face, and found out that -her mother was ill; while we, the heads of the household, had known -nothing about the matter, and while we imagined that a scholar would be -only distantly aware that a housemaid had a mother. It was plainer than -ever that we knew nothing whatever about great scholars. The public -function for which he came was an overwhelming success, and after -the lapse of now many years people still remember that man of amazing -erudition and grandeur of speech. But we, being simple people, and -especially a certain lad, who is rapidly coming now to manhood, remember -with keen delight how this absurd scholar had hardly finished afternoon -tea before he demanded to see the mice, who were good enough to turn -out of their nest, a mother and four children, and having rotated, the -mother by herself, and the children by themselves, and each one having -rotated by itself, all whirled round together in one delirium of -delight, partly the delight of the mice and partly of the scholar. - -Having moved us all to the tears of the heart by his prayer next -morning, for it was as the supplication of a little child, so simple, -so confiding, so reverent and affectionate, he bade the whole household -farewell, from the oldest to the youngest with a suitable word for each, -and he shook hands with the servants, making special inquiry for the -housemaid's mother, and--there is no use concealing a scholar's disgrace -any more than another man's--he made his last call upon the Japanese -mice, and departed bowing at the door, and bowing at the gate of the -garden, and bowing before he entered the cab, and bowing his last -farewell from the window, while he loaded us all with expressions -of gratitude for our "gracious and unbounded hospitality, which had -refreshed him alike both in body and mind." And he declared that -he would have both that hospitality and ourselves in "continual -remembrance." - -Before we retired to rest I had approached the question of his expenses, -although I had an instinct that our scholar would be difficult to -handle, and he had waived the whole matter as unworthy of attention. On -the way to the station I insisted upon a settlement with the result that -he refused to charge any fee, being thankful if his "remarks," for he -refused to give them the name of lecture, had been of any use for the -furtherance of knowledge, and as regards expenses they were limited to -a third-class return fare. He also explained that there were no other -charges, as he travelled in cars and not in cabs, and any gifts he -bestowed (by which I understood the most generous tips to every human -being that served him in any fashion) were simply a private pleasure -of his own. When I established him in the corner seat of a third-class -compartment, with his humble luggage above his head, and an Arabic book -in his hand, and some slight luncheon for the way in his pocket, he -declared that he was going to travel as a prince. Before the train left -an old lady opposite him in the carriage--I should say a tradesman's -widow--was already explaining the reason of her journey, and he was -listening with benignant interest. Three days later he returned the -fee which was sent him, having deducted the third-class return fare, -thanking us for our undeserved generosity, but explaining that he would -count it a shame to grow rich through his services to knowledge. Some -years afterwards I saw him in the distance, at a great public meeting, -and when he mounted the platform the huge audience burst into prolonged -applause, and were all the more delighted when he, who never had -the remotest idea that people were honouring him, looked round, -and discovering a pompous nonentity who followed him, clapped -enthusiastically. And the only other time and the last that I saw him -was on the street of a famous city, when he caught sight of a country -woman dazed amid the people and the traffic, and afraid to cross to the -other side. Whereupon our scholar gave the old woman his arm and led her -carefully over, then he bowed to her, and shook hands with her, and I -watched his tall form and white hair till he was lost in the distance. -I never saw him again, for shortly after he had also passed over to the -other side. - - - - -IV.--MY FRIEND THE TRAMP - - -ONE of the memorable and pitiable sights of the West, as the traveller -journeys across the prairies, is the little group of Indians hanging -round the lonely railway station. They are not dangerous now, nor are -they dignified; they are harmless, poor, abject, shiftless, ready to -beg or ready to steal, or to do anything else except work, and the one -possession of the past which they still retain is the inventive and -instinctive cunning of the savage, who can read the faintest sign like -a written language, and knows the surest way of capturing his prey. One -never forgets the squalid figure with some remains of former grandeur -in his dress, and the gulf between us and this being of another race, -unchanged amid the modern civilization. And then one comes home and -suddenly recognizes our savages at our own doors. - -Our savage tramps along our country roads, and loafs along our busy -streets, he stops us with his whine when no policeman is near, and -presents himself upon our doorstep, and when he is a master of his -business he will make his way into our house. He has his own dress, -combining many styles and various periods, though reduced to a -harmony by his vagabond personality. He has his own language, which is -unintelligible to strangers, and a complete system of communication by -pictures. He marries and lives and dies outside civilization, sharing -neither our habits nor our ideas, nor our labours, nor our religion, and -the one infallible and universal badge of his tribe is that our savage -will not work. He will hunger and thirst, he will sweat and suffer, he -will go without shelter and without comfort, he will starve and die, but -one thing he will not do, not even to get bread, and that is work; not -even for tobacco, his dearest treasure and kindliest support, will he do -fifteen minutes' honest labour. The first and last article in his creed, -for which he is prepared to be a martyr and which makes him part of -a community, is "I believe in idleness." He has in him the blood of -generations of nomads, and if taken off the roads, and compelled to earn -his living would likely die. A general law of compulsory industry would -bring the race to an end. - -Besides his idleness he has many faults, for he is a liar to the bone, -he is a drunkard whenever he can get the chance, he steals in small ways -when it is safe, he bullies women if they are alone in a country house, -he has not a speaking acquaintance with soap and water, and if he -has any virtue it is not of a domestic character. He is ungrateful, -treacherous, uncleanly, and vicious, to whom it is really wrong to give -food, far more money, and to whom it is barely safe to give the shelter -of an outhouse, far less one's roof. And yet he is an adroit, shrewd, -clever, entertaining rascal. He carries the geography of counties in his -head down to the minutest details which you can find on no map, knowing -every mountain track, and forgotten footpath, every spring where he can -get water, and the warmest corner in a wood where he can sleep. He has -also another map in his memory of the houses with the people that dwell -therein; which he ought to pass by, which it were a sin to neglect, -which are worth trying, and which have changed hands. And he is ever -carrying on his ordnance survey, and bringing information up to date; -and as he and his fellows make a note of their experiences for those who -follow after, it may be safely said that no one knows better either -a country-side or its inhabitants from his own point of view than our -friend the vagrant. - -Perhaps the struggle for existence has quickened his wits beyond those -of his race, but at any rate our vagabond is not fettered by that solid -and conventional English intellect which persists in doing things as -our fathers used to do them, and will not accommodate itself to changing -conditions. Our vagabond has certain old lines which he has long -practised and which he is always willing to use, in suitable -circumstances, such as the workman out of employment and tramping to -another city to get a job because he has not money enough to pay his -railway fare, or a convalescent just discharged from hospital and making -his way home to his wife and children, or a high-spirited man too proud -to beg, and only anxious for a day's work (in some employment which -cannot be found within twenty miles). And when he plays any of these -rles he is able to assume an air of interesting weariness as if he -could not drag one leg after the other, and on occasion will cough with -such skill as to suggest galloping consumption. And poor (but proud) he -only allows the truth to be dragged from him after much hesitation. But -when those lines fail and new inventions are needed for new times he -rises to the occasion. If there be a great miner's strike he goes -from town to town begging money for his wife and children at home, and -explaining the hardships of a miner's life, which he has diligently, -although superficially, learned; and after a war he is a reservist who -threw up a profitable job at his country's call, and is now penniless -and starving, but still unwaveringly patriotic; and if there be any -interest in the sea through recent storm and shipwrecks, he also, this -man of many trials and many journeys, has been saved with difficulty -from the waves and lost his little all. If he calls upon a priest, he is -careful to call him "Father," and to pose as a faithful Catholic; and if -he be an Irishman, his brogue then becomes a fortune, but if he drops -in upon a Minister of the Kirk he recalls the good which he got when -sitting in the West Kirk of Paisley; and if he be so fortunate as to be -really Scots in blood, and therefore acquainted with theology, he will -not only deceive that minister, but even the elect themselves, I mean -the Caledonian Society. When the vagabond comes upon a home of simple -lay piety, he allows it to be understood that he has led a life of -fearful wickedness but is now a genuine penitent, asking only for the -means of gaining an honest livelihood. He is fertile in devices and -brilliant in execution, without any prejudices against the past -or present, but ever bringing forth from his treasury of unabashed -falsehood and ingenious impudence things new and old. - -Our savage has also got, what I believe the Red Indians have not, -an agreeable sense of humour, which no doubt is limited by practical -details, but is in its way very captivating. What a stroke of delightful -irony it was for a pair of our savages to take a long street between -them, the man begging down the right-hand side, and the woman the left, -while the man told a mournful tale of his wife's death, and asked money -to get her a coffin that she might be respectably buried--he being poor -(but proud) and a broken-hearted widower--as well as to clothe their two -mourning little ones in black for the funerals, and for the woman to tell -exactly the same story as she went down the opposite side of the street, -except that it was her husband she was burying, and she poor (but proud) -and a broken-hearted widow. They took no notice of one another across -the street, and none when they completed their work at the further -end, but a few minutes later they were sitting in the same public-house -together, both wonderfully comforted and affording a remarkable -illustration of the dead burying their dead. - -Our vagabond is a superb actor within his own province, and greatly -enjoys a triumph in any conflict with the enemy. He was one day singing -the "Sweet By-and-By" with such a voice and so much unctuous emotion -that I lost patience, and broke out on him for his laziness and -profanity. For a moment he was almost confounded, and then he assumed an -air of meek martyrdom suggestive of a good man who had been trying to do -his little best for the salvation of his fellow-creatures, and was -being persecuted for righteousness sake. This was for the benefit of a -simple-minded old gentleman who had been greatly shocked at my remarks, -and now, as a rebuke to an ungodly and unsympathetic clergyman and an -encouragement to humble piety, gave the vagabond a shilling. "God bless -you," he said with much feeling to the philanthropist, and started again -the "Sweet By-and-By"! but before we parted he tipped me a wink over his -victory, charged with inexpressible humour. - -When one of the savages honoured our humble home by calling one day -as an incapacitated member of the Mercantile Marine and obtained -half-a-crown from my tender-hearted wife, partly through sympathy, but -also through alarm, because the suffering sailor proposed to exhibit the -sores upon his legs, I knew that the tidings would be carried far and -wide throughout the nearest tribe, our local Black-feet as it were, and -that we would be much favoured in days to come. So we were, by other -sailors, also with sores, by persons who had been greatly helped by my -preaching in the years of long ago, by widow women full of sorrow and -gin, by countrymen stranded helpless in a big unsympathetic city, till -our house was little better than a casual ward. Then I took the matter -in hand and interviewed the next caller, who had been long out of -employment, but had now obtained a job and only wanted the means of -living till Monday when he would be independent of everybody. He had -spent his last penny the day before on a piece of bread, and had tasted -nothing since. "Not even drink," I ventured to inquire, for by this time -the air round me was charged with alcohol, when he replied with severe -dignity that he had been a teetotaller since his boyhood. Then I -addressed him briefly but clearly, explaining that the half-crown had -been given by mistake, that we were greatly obliged for the visit of his -friends, that I had enjoyed his own call, but that it would save a -great deal of trouble to both sides if he would only intimate to his -fellow-tribesmen and women when they gathered round the camp fire in -the evening that there was no more spoil to be obtained at our house. He -looked at me, and I looked at him, and a smile came over his face. "I'm -fly," he said. And then as he went out at the door he turned for a last -shot, "Look here, sir, if you give me a bob, I'll join your church, and -be an elder in a month." A fellow of infinite jest, and I gave him a -shilling, but without conditions. - -The humour of our nomad is always practical, and when it masters him -it sweeps all professional hypocrisy before it like a water-flood, -and reveals the real man. Certainly quite unclothed, but also quite -unashamed. He had told his story so artfully, with such care in detail -and such conviction in tone, that I did believe for the moment that he -was a poor Scot trying to get home by sea to Glasgow, together with his -wife and four children, that he had obtained his passage-money from the -Caledonian Society, and that he only needed a little money for food and -such like expenses. This money I gave him somewhat lavishly, and yet -not quite without suspicion, and he left full of gratitude and national -enthusiasm. Three years later a man got entrance to my study on the -grounds of Christianity and nationality, and before he addressed me -directly I thought that I knew his voice. When he explained that he had -got his passage to Glasgow from that noble institution, the Caledonian -Society, but that as he had a wife and four children... I was sure we -had met before, and I offered to do the rest of the story myself, -which I did with such an accurate memory that he listened with keen -appreciation like a composer to the playing of his own piece, and only -added when I had finished, "So I did it here afore. Well, sir, ye may -take my word for it, it's the first mistake I've made in my business." -And he departed with the self-conceit of the Scots only slightly -chastened. - - - - -V.--OUR BOY - - -THE boy must have had a father, and some day he may be a father himself, -but in the meantime he is absolutely different from anything else on -the face of the earth. He is a race by himself, a special creation -that cannot be traced, for who would venture to liken his ways to the -respectability of his father, or who would ever connect him with the -grave and decorous man which he is to be. By-and-by, say in thirty -years, he will preside at a meeting for the prevention of cruelty to -animals, or make enthusiastic speeches for the conversion of black -people, or get in a white heat about the danger of explosives in the -house, or be exceedingly careful about the rate of driving. Meanwhile he -watches two dogs settle their political differences with keen interest, -and would consider it unsportsmanlike to interfere if they were fairly -matched, and the sight of a black man is to him a subject of unfailing -and practical amusement, if he can blow himself and a brother up with -gunpowder, he feels that time has not been lost, and it is to him a -chief delight--although stolen--to travel round at early morn with the -milkman, and being foolishly allowed to drive, to take every corner -on one wheel. He is skilful in arranging a waterfall which comes into -operation by the opening of a door; he keeps a menagerie of pets, -unsightly in appearance, and extremely offensive in smell in his -bedroom. He has an inexhaustible repertory of tricks for any servant -with whom he has quarrelled, and it is his pleasure to come downstairs -on the bannisters, and if any one is looking to make believe that he is -going to fall off and dash himself to destruction three floors below. -His father is aghast at him, and uses the strongest language regarding -his escapades; he wonders how it came to pass that such a boy should -turn up in his home, and considers him what gardeners would call "a -sport" or unaccountable eccentricity in the family. He is sure that he -never did such things when he was a boy, and would be very indignant if -you insinuated he had simply been a prophecy of his son. According -to his conversation you would imagine that his early life had been -distinguished by unbroken and spotless propriety, and his son himself -would not believe for a moment that the pater had ever been guilty of -his own exploits. The Boy is therefore lonely in his home, cut off from -the past and the future; he is apt to be misunderstood and even (in an -extreme case) censured, and his sufferings as a creature of a foreign -race with all the powers of government against him would be intolerable -had he not such a joy in living, and were he not sustained in everything -he does by a quite unaffected sense of innocence, and the proud -consciousness of honourable martyrdom. - -As wild animals are best studied in their native states, and are much -restricted in the captivity of a cage, so the Boy is not seen at his -best in a middle-class home where he is sadly fettered by vain customs -(although it is wonderful how even there he can realize himself). When -you want to understand what manner of creature he is, you must see him -on the street. And the boy _in exedsis_, and _de profundis_ too, is a -message-boy. - -Concluding that his son has had enough of the Board School, and learning -from his master that there was not the remotest chance he would ever -reach a higher standard, his father brings him some morning to a -respectable tradesman, and persuades the unsuspecting man to take him as -message-boy. Nothing could exceed the modesty and demure appearance of -the Boy, and the only fear is that he be too timid and too simple for -his duty--that he may be run over by a cab or bullied upon the streets. -Carefully washed by his mother, and with his hair nicely brushed, in a -plain but untorn suit of clothes, and a cap set decently on his head, he -is a beautiful sight, and he listens to his father's instructions to do -what he is told, and his master's commandment that he is not to meddle -with anything in the shop, in respectful and engaging silence. His -father departs with a warning look, and his master gives him an easy -errand, and the Boy goes out to begin life in a hard, unfriendly world, -while one pities his tender youth. - -The Boy has started with a considerable capital of knowledge, gathered -at school, and in a few weeks he is free of the streets--a full-grown -citizen in his own kingdom, and, if you please, we will watch him for an -hour. His master has given him some fish, and charged him as he values -his life to deliver them at once at No. 29, Rose Terrace, and the boy -departs with conscientious purpose. Half way to his destination he sees -in the far distance the butcher's boy, who also has been sent in hot -haste to some house where the cook is demanding the raw material -for luncheon. They signal to one another with clear, penetrating, -unintelligible cries like savages across a desert, and the result is -that the two messengers rendezvous at the corner of Rose Terrace. What -they talk about no person can tell, for their speech is their own, but -by-and-by under the influence of, no doubt informing, conversation, they -relax from there austere labours and lay down their baskets. A minute -later they are playing marbles with undivided minds, and might be -playing pitch and toss were they not afraid of a policeman coming round -the corner. It is nothing to them, gay, irresponsible children of -nature, that two cooks are making two kitchens unbearable with their -indignation, for the boy has learned to receive complaints with -imperturbable gravity and ingenious falsehood. Life for him is a -succession of pleasures, slightly chastened by work and foolish -impatience. As they play, a dog who has been watching them from afar -with keen interest, and thoroughly understands their ways, creeps near -with cautious cunning, and seizing the chance of a moment when the -butcher's boy has won a "streaky" from the fishmonger, dashes in and -seizes the leg of mutton. If he had been less ambitious and taken a -chop, he would have succeeded, and then the boy would have explained -that the chop had been lost in a street accident in which he was almost -killed, but a leg of mutton is heavy to lift and a boy is only less -alert than a dog. The spoil is barely over the edge of the basket, and -the dog has not yet tasted its sweetness, before the boy gives a yell so -shrill and fearsome that it raises the very hair on the dog's back, and -the thief bolts in terror without his prey. The boy picks up the -mutton, dusts it on his trousers, puts it back in the basket, gives the -fishmonger a playful punch on the side of the head, to which that worthy -responds with an attempted kick, and the two friends depart in opposite -directions, whistling, with a light heart and an undisturbed conscience. - -If any one imagines that the boy will now hurry with his fish, he does -not understand the nature of the race and its freedom from enslaving -rule. A few yards down Rose Terrace he comes upon the grocer's boy and -the two unearth a chemist's boy, and our boy produces a penny dreadful, -much tom and very fishy, but which contains the picture of a battle -swimming in blood, and the three sit down for its enjoyment. When they -have fairly exhausted their literature the boy receives his fee, as -the keeper of a circulating library, by being allowed to dip his finger -carefully wetted before into a bag of moist sugar, and to keep all that -he can take out, and the grocer's boy is able to close up the bag so -skilfully that the cook will never know that it has been opened. -From the chemist he receives a still more enjoyable because much more -perilous reward, for he is allowed to put his mouth to the spout of a -syphon and, if he can endure, to take what comes--and that is the reason -why syphons are never perfectly full. It occurs to the chemist at this -moment that he was told to lose no time in delivering some medicines, -and so he departs reluctantly; the conference breaks up, and it seems as -if nothing remained for the boy but to deliver the fish. Still you -never know what may happen, and as at that moment he catches sight of a -motor-car, it seems a mere duty to hurry back to the top of the terrace -to see whether it will break down. It does of course, for otherwise one -could hardly believe it to be a motor-car, and the boy under what he -would consider a call of providence, hastens to offer assistance. Other -boys arrive from different quarters, interested, sympathetic, obliging, -willing to co-operate with the irritated motor-man in every possible -way. They remain with him twenty-five minutes till he starts again, and -then three of them accompany him on a back seat, not because they were -invited, but because they feel they are needed. And then the boy goes -back to Rose Terrace and delivers the fish, stating with calm dignity, -that he had just been sent from the shop and had run all the way. - -Things are said to him at the house by the cook, who is not an absolute -fool, and things may be said to him by his master at the shop, who has -some knowledge of boys, but no injurious reflection of any kind affects -the boy. With a mind at leisure from itself he is able to send his empty -basket spinning along the street after a lady's poodle, and to accompany -this attention with a yell that will keep the pampered pet on the run -for a couple of streets to the fierce indignation of its mistress. And -the chances are that he will foregather with an Italian monkey boy, and -although the one knows no Italian and the other knows no English, they -will have pleasant fellowship together, because both are boys, and in -return for being allowed to have the monkey on his shoulder, and seeing -it run up a waterpipe, he will give the Italian half an apple which -comes out of his pocket with two marbles and a knife attached to it. If -he be overtaken by a drenching shower, he covers his head and shoulders -with his empty basket, sticks his hands in his pockets, and goes on his -way singing in the highest of spirits, but if the day be warm he travels -on the steps of a'bus when the conductor is on the roof, or on a lorry, -if the driver be not surly. If it be winter time, and there be ice on -the streets, he does his best, with the assistance of his friends, to -make a slide, and if the police interfere, with whom he is on terms -of honourable warfare, he contents himself with snowballing some -prudish-looking youth, who is out for a walk with his mother. All the -same he is not without his ambitions in the world, and he carries -sacred ideals in the secret of his heart. He would give all that he -possesses,--five lurid and very tattered books, a penknife with four -blades (two broken), nineteen marbles (three glass), and a pair of white -mice--to be the driver of a butcher's cart. The boy is a savage, and -although you may cover him with a thin veneer of civilization he remains -a savage. There is a high-class school for little boys in my district, -and those at a distance are driven home in cabs that they may not get -wet in winter weather and may not be over-fatigued. A cab is passing at -this moment with four boys, who have invited two friends to join them, -and it is raining heavily. Two boys are on the box seat with the driver, -and have thoughtfully left their topcoats inside in case they might get -spoiled. There is a boy with his head out at either window addressing -opprobrious remarks to those on the box-seat, for which insults one of -them has just lost his cap, the other two are fighting furiously in the -bottom of the cab, and will come out an abject spectacle. For you may -train a dog to walk on its hind legs, and you may tame a tiger, but you -cannot take the boyness out of a boy. - - - - -VI.--A RESIDUARY - - -I - -EXCEPTIONS may be allowed in theory, at least, but the rule stands -impregnable in reason and practice, that a wife should have the absolute -control of the household, and that no male person should meddle, even as -an irresponsible critic, with the servant department. There are limits -to the subjection of the gentler sex which reserves the right to choose -its acts of homage to the titular head of the family. Can anything -be prettier, for instance, than the deference which women of very -pronounced character will show to their husbands in some affairs? -"Nothing would have given me greater pleasure than to have taken a stall -at your charming bazaar, but my husband absolutely forbids me, and you -know what a tyrant he is about my health," or "You really must not ask -my opinion about the Eastern Question, for I am shockingly ignorant of -politics, but my husband knows everything, and I have heard him say that -the Government has been very weak." It would not, however, be wise for -this favoured man to trespass too far on the almost Oriental deference -of his wife, or hastily to suppose that because his word was useful in -saving her from the drudgery of an unfashionable bazaar or the weary -drone of a conversational bore, his was a universal infallibility. This -sweet spirit of passive obedience will not continue if a rash man should -differ from the house manager on the technical merits of a servant, for -he will then be told that his views on all such matters are less than -nothing and vanity. - -No man knows, nor ever expects to know, what women talk about after they -have left the dining-room in stately procession and secluded themselves -in the parliament of the drawing-room; but it may be guessed that the -conference, among other things, reviews the incredible folly of mankind -in the sphere of household affairs. How it will not give the head of -the family one minute's serious concern that the cook feeds her kinsfolk -with tit-bits in the kitchen, provided that his toast be crisp and his -favourite dish well cooked. How he would any day give a certificate of -character to the housemaid, if he were allowed to perpetrate such an -absurdity, simply and solely on the ground that his bath was ready every -morning, and his shaving-water hot, while he did not know, nor seem -to care, that the dust was lying thick in hidden corners. How he would -excuse the waitress having a miscellaneous circle of admirers, provided -she did not loiter at the table and was ingenious in saving him from -unwelcome callers. They compare notes on the trials of household -government; they comfort one another with sympathy; they revel in tales -of male innocence and helplessness, till they are amazed that men should -be capable of even such light duties as fall on them in their daily -callings, and are prepared to receive them kindly as they enter the room -with much diffidence and make an appeal by their very simplicity to a -woman's protecting care. - -John Leslie was devoted to his very pretty and very managing wife, and -had learned wisdom, so that he never meddled, but always waited till his -advice was invited. Like other wise husbands, he could read his wife's -face, and he saw that afternoon, two days before Christmas, as soon -as he entered the drawing-room, that there had been trouble in the -household. His kiss was received without response; her cheeks had the -suggestion of a flush; her lips were tightly drawn; and there was a -light in her eyes which meant defiance. She stated with emphasis, -in reply to a daily inquiry, that she was perfectly well, and that -everything had gone well that day. When she inquired why he should -suppose that anything was wrong, he knew that it had been a black storm, -and that the end thereof was not yet. - -"By the way, Flo,"--and Leslie congratulated himself on avoiding every -hidden rock,--"I've completed my list of Christmas presents, and I -flatter myself on one downright success, which suggests that I have -original genius." - -"Do you mean the picture of Soundbergh School for Jack?" said Mrs. -Leslie coldly. "I daresay he will be pleased, although I don't believe -that boys care very much for anything except for games and gingerbread -cakes; they are simply barbarians"; and as Leslie knew that his wife -had been ransacking London to get a natty portable camera wherewith -Jack might take bits of scenery, his worst-weather guess seemed to be -confirmed. - -"No, no, that was obvious, and I believe Jack will be fearfully proud of -his picture," replied Leslie bravely; "but I was at my wit's end to know -what to get for old Margaret. You see, I used to give her pincushions -and works of art from the Thames Tunnel when I was a little chap, and -I bought her boas and gay-coloured handkerchiefs when I came up at -Christmas from Oxford, and you know since she left the old home -and settled with us eighteen years ago we have exhausted the whole -catalogue." - -"You have, at least"; and having no clue, Leslie was amazed at his -wife's indifference to the factotum and ruler of the household, whom the -junior servants were obliged to call Mrs. Hoskins--"Mrs." being a title -of dignity, not of marriage--or Cook at the lowest, and who was called -everything by her old boy John Leslie and his son Jack, from Maggie to -Magsibus, and answered to anything by which her two masters chose to -name her. - -"Oh, you have been as keen as any one in the family about Magsy's -present,"--and Leslie still clung to hope,--"but I've walked out before -you all. What do you think of a first-class likeness of Spurgeon in an -oak frame, with his autograph? You know how she goes on about him, -and reads his sermons. It 'ill be hung in the place of honour in the -kitchen, with burnished tin and brass dishes on either side. Now, -confess, haven't I scored?" - -"If you propose to put your picture on her table on Christmas morning, -I fear you will be a day late, for Margaret has given up her place, and -asked to be allowed to leave to-morrow: she wants to bid Jack good-bye -before she goes," and Mrs. Leslie's voice was iced to twenty degrees -below freezing. - -"What do you mean?" cried Leslie, aghast, for in all his dark -imaginations he had never anticipated this catastrophe. "Maggie! -our Meg! leaving at a day's notice! It's too absurd! You've... had a -quarrel, I suppose, but that won't, come to anything. Christmas is -the time for... making up." - -"You do not know much about household management, John," Mrs. Leslie -explained with much dignity. "Mistresses don't quarrel with servants, -however much provoked they may be. If I have to find fault, I make a -rule of doing so quickly and civilly, and I allow no reply. It was -Margaret flung up her place with very unbecoming language; and you may -be sure this time there will be no 'making up,' as you call it. - -"What happened, Florence?" said John Leslie, with a note in his voice -which a woman never treats with disrespect. "You know I do not interfere -between you and the young servants, but Margaret has been with us since -we married, and before that was for sixteen years in my father's house. -We cannot part lightly; did she speak discourteously to you?" - -"I do not know what a man may call discourtesy, but Margaret informed -me that either she or the housemaid must leave, and that the sooner the -housemaid went the better for the house." - -"But I thought that the housemaid was a Baptist too, and that Margaret -and she got on capitally, and rather looked down on the waitress because -she was a Methodist." - -"So they did for a time, till they found out that they were different -kinds of Baptists, just imagine! They had such arguments in the kitchen -that Lucy has had to sit in her pantry, and last evening Margaret called -the housemaid a 'contracted Baptist,' and she said Margaret was a 'loose -Baptist.' So Margaret told me that if she was a 'loose Baptist,' it -was not good for the housemaid to stay in the house with her; and if I -preferred a woman like that, she would go at once, and so she is going." -"When men break on theology in the smoking-room," remarked Leslie, "the -wise go to bed at once, and two women--and one of them old Margaret--on -the distinctions among the Baptist denomination must be beyond words -and endurance. It is natural that places should be given up, but -not necessary that the offer should be accepted. What did you say to -Margaret, Florence?" - -"That she had secured the dismissal of five servants already within -three years: one because she was High Church; a second because she was -no Church; that big housemaid from Devon for no reason I could discover -except that she ate too much, as if we grudged food; the last waitress -because she did not work enough, as if that concerned her; and the one -before because she had a lover Margaret did not approve, and that I did -not propose to lose a good housemaid because she was not the same sort -of Baptist as Margaret. - -"It is very nice and romantic to talk about the old family servant," -continued Mrs. Leslie with a vibrant voice, "and I hope that I have not -been ungrateful to Margaret, but people forget what a mistress has to -suffer from the 'old family servant,' and I tell you, John, that I can -endure Margaret's dictation no longer. She must leave, or... I must"; -and when his wife swept out of the room to dress for dinner, Leslie knew -that they had come to a crisis in family life. - - -II - -"How are you, mummy?" and Jack burst in upon the delighted household -gathered in the hall with a trail of loosely packed luggage behind him, -and a pair of skates he had forgotten to pack altogether, round his -neck. "I say, that's a ripping dress you have on. Cusack, our house -'pre,' says yours is the prettiest photo he ever saw. You're looking -fit, pater, but you must come a trot with me, or you'll have a pot soon. -Jolly journey? Should rather think so! dressed old Swallow up in a -rug, and laid him out on a seat; people thought he had small-pox, and -wouldn't come in; four of us had the place to ourselves all the way: -foxey, wasn't it? Cold, not a bit. We shoved every hot-water pan in -below the seats, and the chaps put more in at every stop, till we had -eight in full blast. - -"Look out, cabby, and be kind to that hamper with my best china. What is -it? Oh, that's some really decent booze for the festivities--three dozen -Ripon stone ginger; and there's a dozen among my shirts. Can't get that -tipple in the South. How are you, Lucy and Mary? I've got a pair of -spiffing caps for you; do for church if you like. But where is the -youthful Marguerite? She used to be always dodging round, pretending -that she was just passing by accident. Dinner ready? All right; I'm -pretty keen, too. Tell Magsibus I'll be down after dessert with a -brimming bowl of stone ginger. - -"Hello, old lady! As you didn't come up to welcome the returning -prodigal at the door, he's come down to give you his blessing. It's all -right, Mag, I was only fooling. You daren't have taken your eye off that -pudding one minute, I know. It was A 1; best thing you ever did, and -awfully good to have it for the first night. - -"That gingerbread you sent took the cup this term, and no second. -Fellows offered to do my lines for me, and sucked up to me no end just -to get a slice. Ain't that the tin up there you make it in? Chap -next study had a thing he called gingerbread--feeblest show you ever -saw--burnt crust outside and wet dough inside. - -"There's the old brass jam-pan, Peg, ain't it? Do you remember when -Billy Poole and I used to help at the boiling, and get the skim for our -share? Billy's won a scholarship at Cambridge; youngest chap to take it, -and is a howling Greek swell, but you bet he hasn't forgot that hot -jam. Not he; was asking for you last week. I'll get him here next autumn -before he goes up, and we'll have a jam blow-out.... What's wrong, -Magsy? - -"Don't blub. Tell me who's been hitting you. Is it those two young -fools? The mater will soon settle their hash. Here's my handkerchief. -There, now you're all right, ar'n't you?" - -"It's really silly of me, Master Jack, and I ought to be ashamed of -myself, at my age too, but it was you speaking of next year. I thought -perhaps your mother had told you that... I am leaving tomorrow." - -"Going to leave us and your home?" and Jack sat down on the kitchen -table in stark amazement. "Where would you go to, Magsy? Why, you nursed -me when I was a kid, and you knew the pater when he was a fellow at -school. Why, you couldn't get on without us, and, look here, this circus -can't be worked without you. - -"If you don't feel fit for the cooking,--and it must be a beastly stew -over the fire,--mother'ill get another hand, and you'll just order her -round and have a good time." But Margaret sat with sad, despairing eyes, -looking straight before her, and making no sign. - -"You couldn't do it, Magsibus," and the lad came over and put his arm -round her; "it would be too mean. Didn't you promise to wait and start -house with me, the same as you did with father? and now you calmly -announce that you are going to set up for yourself, and be a lady. Oh, -you treacherous, wicked woman!" - -"Master Jack, I have not a relative living, and I couldn't go to another -place--I've been too long with one family--four-and-thirty years--and I -don't know what I'll do without the sight of you, for my heart has no -portion outside this house on earth; but I must go, I cannot do -otherwise, I must go. - -"You see, I'm getting old, dear, and I've been so long here that -I forget it's not my own house--God knows that I would die for you -all--and I have a temper, and I shall be... a trouble and not a help. -Your mother has been a good mistress to me, and been kinder to me than -I have been to her. I'll pray for you all as long as I live, and I would -like to... see you sometimes; but I must go, Master Jack, I must go." - - -III - -"It seems to me, Flo," and Leslie stretched out his legs in the warmth, -"the chief good of easy circumstances is being able to afford a -wood fire in one's bedroom,--that and books. Do you remember that -evil-smelling oil-stove in our little house at Islington? By the way, -did I tell you that I ran out one afternoon last week, when I had an -hour to spare, and paid an outside visit to our first home. It looked -rather forlorn, and so small and shabby." - -"It was the dearest little house when we lived in it, John," and Mrs. -Leslie saw wonderful things in the firelight; "and when you were at -the office I used to go from room to room, arranging and dusting and -admiring." - -"Yes, but you also had the most toothsome evening meals ready at eight -p.m. for a struggling colonial broker, and used to dress perfectly, and -did it all on next to nothing." - -"Two hundred and twenty-two pounds five shillings and threepence--that, -sir, was the first year's income. Don't you remember making up the book, -and finding we had thirty pounds over; but, then, Jack, we had... a -perfect servant." - -"Poor Margaret! what an interest she took in our daring enterprise! By -the way, your memory is better than mine, wife: didn't we tell her how -the balance stood, and she was the best pleased of the three?" - -"'Praise God!' she cried, 'I knew, Mr. John, you did right to trust and -to marry, and some day I'll see you in a big house, if God will'; and -then you told her to bring up her missionary box and you gave her a -sovereign, and when she put it in, her hand was shaking for joy. Her -temper has got masterful since she grew old, and she is aggravating; but -I know she's a good woman." - -"Yes, Meg wouldn't have left us if we had been down on our luck: I -believe she would have seen us through and gone without wages"; and -Leslie spoke with the tone of one hazarding a wild speculation. - -"You believe, John!" clever women are sometimes befooled. "Why, have you -forgotten that winter when you lost so heavily, and it looked as if we -would have to go into rooms, how Margaret wanted to go out cooking to -help the family, and she would have done it had not things taken a turn? -Whatever be her faults,--and she has been provoking,--she is a loyal -soul." - -"Well, we only had one bad illness, Flo, and I'll never forget the -mornings when I came from my lodgings and stood on the street, and you -told me what kind of night Jack had had, and the days when I toiled -at the office, and you fought scarlet fever at home. You were a brave -woman--without a nurse, too." - -"Without what--for shame, John!--when Maggie sat up all night and worked -all day, and was so clever that the doctor said she had saved Jack's -life--well, perhaps be admitted that I helped, but she did more than -I could--I would rather have let twenty housemaids go than see Maggie -leave, John, if she had given me the chance." - -"Margaret always had a temper, Flo, even in the old days when I was a -boy, and now she's fairly roused." - -"It isn't temper at all now, John, or I would not be so vexed: it's her -goodness which will drive her out in the end, and she'll never know -one day of happiness again. She told me to-night that she was sure that -there would always be trouble between her and the other servants, and as -she had tried to serve us well when she was younger she would not make -our home unhappy in her old age. Jack pleaded with her, and I--I nearly -cried; she was quite affected, too, but she is immovable." - -"Well, we can do no more, and you mustn't blame yourself, Flo: it has -just been a smash; and if she does go, we must see that she be made -comfortable in her last years. But I wish old Margaret were not leaving -us on Christmas Eve. Jack is very sick about it, and I rather suspect -that he was crying when I looked into his room just now; but he -pretended to be asleep, and I couldn't insult a fellow in the fifth form -with remarks." - - -IV - -When the Leslies set up house, eighteen years before, Margaret received -them on their return from their ten days' wedding tour in the Lake -District, and she was careful to ask in the evening whether Mr. John -would like prayers before or after breakfast next morning. She -also produced a book of family prayers, which she had purchased in -anticipation of the sole difficulty which is understood to prevent the -majority of male householders from having worship in their homes, and -asked her young master and mistress to accept it from her. So it came -to pass that owing to Margaret there were always morning prayers at the -Leslies'; and in observance of a custom begun when there were just the -three in the little house of Islington, fighting the battle of life -together, the chapter was read round, each person taking one verse in -turn. To-night Leslie divided his time between short snatches of sleep, -when he dreamt of funerals in which Margaret departed sitting beside the -driver of the hearse, while a mourning coach followed with her luggage -on the roof, and long periods of wakefulness when he regarded next -morning's prayers with dismay. Was there a special prayer for a servant -leaving her household after eighteen--no, thirty-four years' faithful -duty; and if there was not, could he weave in a couple of sentences -among the petitions? At half-past six he was certain that he could not, -and was ashamed at the thought that with that well worn prayer-book -of Margaret's before him he would allow her to depart without a -benediction, when he was visited quite suddenly, he declares, with the -most brilliant inspiration of his life. He leaped from bed and lit the -gas in hot haste, as poets are said to do when the missing word to rhyme -with Timbuctoo flashes upon the mind. - -"Florence, please tell me something"; and Mrs. Leslie saw her husband -standing by her bed in poorly concealed excitement. "Where are those -words that were sung at the sacred concert: 'Intreat me not to leave -thee'? I want to know at once; never mind why. Ruth? Thanks so much," and -the noise he made in his bath was audible through the wall, and was that -of a man in hot haste. - -When Mrs. Leslie came down, her husband had a marker in the Bible -projecting six inches, and was checking certain calculations on a sheet -of paper with much care. - -"Morning, Jack--slept well--not very? That's right, I mean I'm very -sorry, must have been the pudding. Not there, for any sake; sit here, -and, let me see--Florence, where are you wandering to? Take this chair. -Six, seven, eight... seventeen, yes, that's Margaret. Now ring the -bell." And Mrs. Leslie could only look at Leslie in silence, while Jack -felt that the firmament was being shaken that day, and one catastrophe -more did not matter. - -"We shall read," said the head of the household in a shaky voice, -"from--eh--the--eh--Book of Ruth, the first chapter and the sixth -verse"; and as soon as his wife saw the passage she understood, and so -did Margaret. - -Round the circle went the verses--Leslie very nervous lest he should -have miscalculated--till Jack read: - -"'And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from -following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou -lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my -God.'" - -Then it came to Margaret, and she began bravely, but soon weakened: -"Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried... the Lord do -so to me, and more also, if ought but death... part..." - -"Let us pray," said Leslie; and it is his fixed belief that, having lost -the place, he read the prayer for the close of the year and making an -attempt to right himself landed in a thanksgiving for the gift of a -new-born child; but nobody is certain and nobody cared. - -"I ought to go," said Margaret, standing very white by the sideboard -after the other servants had left the room, "and it would be better for -you all, whom I love, that I should go; but... I cannot, I can..." - -"Dear old Magsibus," and Jack had her round the waist before she could -say "not" again, or even explain, as she did afterwards, how good a -woman the housemaid was, and how much she would miss her; and as Mrs. -Leslie thought of the days they had been together, the saving the lad -from death and many another deed of loyal, ungrudging service, she -did that which was contrary to every rule of household discipline. But -Leslie could not have seen his wife kiss Margaret, for his back was -turned, and he was studying the snow-covered garden with rapt attention. - - - - -VII.--A RACONTEUR - -"You must excuse me the gaucherie of a compliment," I said to Bevan in -the smoking-room, after a very pleasant dinner, "but you have never been -more brilliant. Five stories, and each a success, is surely a record -even in your experience." - -"It is very good of you to appreciate my poor efforts so highly. I felt -it a distinct risk to attempt five in one evening--six is the farthest -limit sanctioned by any raconteur of standing. You can always -distinguish an artist from a mere amateur by his severe reserve. He -knows that an anecdote is a liqueur, and he offers it seldom; but the -other pours out his stuff like vin ordinaire, which it is, as a rule, -the mere dregs of the vine. Did you ever notice how a man will come back -from Scotland in autumn, and bore companies of unoffending people with a -flood of what he considers humorous Scottish stories? It is one of the -brutalities of conversation. What irritates me is not that the material -is Scottish, for there are many northern stories with a fine flavour; it -is the fellow's utter ignorance of the two great principles of our art." - -"Which are?" - -"Selection and preparation," said Bevan, with decision. "One must first -get good stuff, and then work it into shape. It is amazing how much is -offered and how little is of any use. People are constantly bringing me -situations that they think excellent, and are quite disappointed when -I tell them they are impossible for the purposes of art. Nothing can be -done with them, although of course another artist in a different line -might use them. Now I have passed several 'bits' on to Brown-Johnes, -who delivers popular lectures. The platform story is scene-painting, the -after-dinner miniature." - -"May I ask whether you are ever taken in, as it were, with your -material, and find it 'give' after it has been manufactured, like rotten -yarn or unseasoned wood?" - -"Rarely; one's eye gets to be trained so that you know a promising -subject at sight, but then comes the labour. I've heard a man bore a -dinner-table to the yawning point with a story that had some excellent -points in it, but he had taken no trouble, perhaps had no insight." - -"And you succeeded with it...?" - -"It is, in my humble judgment, as good a story of its kind now as you -would wish to hear, and it bears improvement, which is a good sign. A -really high-class story will take years to perfect, just as I am told -by clergymen that a sermon only begins to go after it has been preached -twenty times." - -"You have been working on that Shakespeare bit, by the way; I noticed at -least one new touch this evening which was excellent." - -"Now that is very gratifying," and Bevan was evidently pleased; "it is -a great satisfaction to have one's work appreciated in an intelligent -manner; perhaps you are the only one present who saw any difference. - -"What I think I like best"--and he tapped his snuff-box in a meditative -way--"is to get an old, decayed, hopeless story, and restore it. -Breaking out a window here, adding a porch there, opening up a room, and -touching up the walls--it is marvellous what can be done. Besides new -drains," he added, with significance, "the sanitary state of some of -those old stories is awful. You feel the atmosphere at the door--quite -intolerable, and indeed dangerous." - -"Then you do not think that indecency...?" - -"No, nor profanity. Both are bad art; they are cheap expedients, like -strong sauces to cover bad cooking. It sounds like boasting, but I have -redeemed one or two very unpleasant tales, which otherwise had been -uninhabitable, if I may trifle again with my little figure, and now are -charming." - -"You rather lean, one would gather, to old tales, while some of the -younger men are terrified of telling a 'chestnut,' always prefacing, -'This must be well known, but it is new to me; say at once if you have -heard it.'" - -"Most humiliating, and quite unworthy of an artist. Heard it before!" -and the old gentleman was full of scorn. "Imagine a painter apologizing -for having taken a bend of the Thames or a Highland glen some man had -used before. Of course, if one makes a copy of a picture and exhibits it -as his own, that is fraud, and the work is certain to be poor. One must -respect another artist's labour, which is the ground of his copyright. -But if one makes a 'bit' of life as old as Aristophanes or Horace his -own, by passing it through his own fancy and turning it out in his -own style, then it is ever new. Then there is the telling! There are -musicians who can compose, but who cannot play, and _vice vers_. So -with our art, there are story-tellers and story-makers. The former can -suffer no wrong, for they are self-protected, but the latter have never -been protected as they deserve in the fruit of their brains. You will -see at once that, if I am right, the ownership of an anecdote is quite -beyond dispute. The original material is really for the most part -common property, and usually very poor property--prairie land, in fact. -Personal rights come in when one has put capital into the land, has -cleared and ploughed and sown it; then it's his own, and he is entitled -to fence it, and he cannot be dispossessed except on fair terms." - -"Which would be?" - -"Well, that depends. He might sell to an editor, or he might give the -use of it to a friend. Personally, as an artist of now thirty years' -standing, I do not part with my work; it may be an old-fashioned -prejudice, but I don't like to let it go to the public." - -"But to a friend?" - -"Of course that is different; still, how few can be trusted. Now I once -gave Higginbotham a very nice little thing of French extraction, but not -too subtle, with just enough body to suit our palate. He beard me tell -it three times in exactly the same form, and I pledged him to make no -changes, for his hand is heavy. Would you believe me?"--and my friend -sat up in his indignation--"he gave it in my presence--but that did -not matter--and left out the best point, which I now think he had never -seen. Life has various trials in store for us as times go on," and Bevan -leant back again. "Some are greater, some are less, but among our minor -vexations I know none like sitting at one end of a table and making talk -with your partner, while a rank amateur at the other end mangles one of -your pet anecdotes." - -"Torture, I should think; but isn't it rather trying when people miss -the point altogether or ask stupid questions?" - -"Artists must take their chance of that, and one is careful; besides, -I've distinctly enjoyed such remarks," and he looked quite genial. "It's -like a painter hearing the people criticize the pictures on a free day. -Once or twice I've got a very happy addition to a story in that way. -After all, the main end of a raconteur must be to give pleasure. -Yes"--and he began to glow--"no art is wholesome which lives for itself -or for a professional class. Art must be a criticism of life and an aid -to better living. No one can tell how much story-telling has contributed -to the brightness and elevation of life. How? By correcting foibles, by -explaining human nature, by destroying cant, by infusing good humour, -by diminishing scandal, by--but I remind myself that a raconteur ought -never to be excited or eloquent. He may, however, be a philanthropist, -as it would appear. Do you know," with a tone of great delight, "that I -was once asked by a physician to call upon one of his patients, a mutual -friend, and spend an hour with him, as a... tonic, in fact. It was -after influenza, and the convalescent began by asking me whether I would -distribute a sum of money among the poor. 'I'm not sure what I'm dying -of; either peritonitis or pneumonia, but I'm glad to see you, Bevan, -and you will do this little kindness for me'--those were his affecting -words. 'Certainly,' I said, and that led me to give him a trifle from -Devonshire--excellent place for stories--which seemed to interest him. -I only told four stories--for he was rather weak, having had a slight -touch of bronchitis--and he is pleased still to thank me," and Bevan -nodded with much satisfaction. - -As I looked at him, so filled with the pride of his art, the time seemed -to have come for a question that had long been in my mind. But it was -necessary to be careful. - -"What, may I ask, Mr. Bevan, do you feel about the matter of... well, -you won't misunderstand me... of accuracy?" - -"You mean whether is there any difference between giving evidence in -a witness-box and relating an anecdote. Everything. The one is a land -surveyor's plan, and must be correct to an inch. The other is a picture, -and must interpret nature. The one is a matter of fact, the other a work -of art. Imagine the folly"--and the good man rose to his feet--"if one -should demand to know whether the figures in a historical painting stood -exactly so and were dressed in those particular colours; we should think -the man mad. A story is a miniature novel, shot through with humour, a -morsel of the irony of things, a tiny comedy, and for it there is but -one rule of judgment--does it represent the spirit of life?" - -"What then do you think of one who should certify an anecdote as a -fact?" - -"That he did not know his craft, for if the tale has no merit, then it -is little compensation to tell us it happened; if it has merit, we are -sure it ought to have happened." - -"And if one should interrupt a raconteur as he approached his point, and -should inquire whether the thing be true?" - -"I am a merciful man," said the venerable artist, "but my conviction is -that he ought to be shot." - - - - -VIII.--WITH UNLEAVENED BREAD - - -RABBI SAUNDERSON, minister of Kilbogie, had been the preacher on the -fast day before Carmichaele's first sacrament in the Glen, and, under the -full conviction that he had only been searching out his own sins, the -old man had gone through the hearts of the congregation as with the -candle of the Lord, till Donald Menzies, who had all along suspected -that he was little better than a hypocrite, was now fully persuaded that -for him to take the sacrament would be to eat and drink condemnation -to himself, and Lauchlan Campbell was amazed to discover that a mere -Lowland Scot like the rabbi was as mighty a preacher of the law as the -chief of the Highland host. The rabbi had been very tender withal, so -that the people were not only humbled, but also moved with the honest -desire after better things. - -Although it was a bitter day, and the snow was deep upon the ground, the -rabbi would not remain over-night with Carmichael. Down in Kilbogie an -old man near fourscore years of age was dying, and was not assured of -the way everlasting, and the rabbi must needs go back through the snow -that he might sit by his bedside and guide his feet into the paths of -peace. All that night the rabbi wrestled with God that it might be His -good pleasure to save this man even at the eleventh hour; and it was one -of the few joys that visited the rabbi in his anxious ministry, that, -before the grey light of a winter morning came into that lowly room, -this aged sinner of Kilbogie had placed himself within the covenant of -grace. - -While he was ministering the promises in that cottage, and fighting a -strong battle for an immortal soul, Carmichael had sent away his dogs, -and was sitting alone in the low-roofed study of the Free Kirk manse, -with the curtains drawn and the wood fire lighting up the room--for he -had put out the lamp--but leaving shadows in the corners where there -were no books, and where occasionally the red paper loomed forth like -blood. - -As the rabbi preached that day, the buoyancy and self-confidence of -youth had been severely chastened, and sitting in the manse pew, -curtained off from the congregation, the conscience of the young -minister had grown tender. It was a fearful charge to lay on any man, -and he only four-and-twenty years of age, the care of human souls; and -what manner of man must he be who should minister unto them after a -spiritual sort the body and blood of Jesus Christ? How true must be his -soul, and how clean his hands! For surely, if any man would be damned -in this world, and in that which is to come, it would be the man who -dispensed the sacrament unworthily. - -As he sat in the firelight the room seemed to turn into a place of -judgment. Round the walls were the saints of the Church Catholic, and -St. Augustine questioned him closely regarding the evil imagination -of youthful days, and Thomas Kempis reproached him because he had so -often flinched in the way of the holy cross. Scottish worthies whose -lives he had often read, and whose sayings had been often quoted from -the pulpit, sat in judgment upon him as to his own personal faith and -to his own ends in the ministry. Samuel Rutherford, with his passionate -letters, reproached him for his coldness towards Christ; and MacCheyne's -life, closed in early manhood, and filled with an unceasing hunger -for the salvation of human souls, condemned him for his easy walk and -conversation; and Leighton, the gentlest of all the Scotch saints, made -him ashamed of bitter words and resentful feelings. And from the walls -the face of his mother's minister regarded him with wistful regret, and -seemed to plead with him to return to his first love and the simplicity -of his mother's faith. - -The roof hung heavy over his head, and the walls took a deeper red, -while the burning logs reminded him of the consuming fire. An owl -hooted outside--a weird and mournful cry--and to the mind of a Celt -like Carmichael it seemed to be a warning to set his house in order. He -crossed to the window, which faced west, and commanded a long stretch -of Glen, and, standing within the curtain, he looked out upon the clear -winter night. How pure was the snow, putting all other white to shame! -How merciless the cold light of the moon, that flung into relief the -tiniest branches of the trees! "Holiness be-cometh thine house, O Lord, -for ever." And he was a minister of the Word and sacrament! The people -had been called unto repentance, but he needed most of all the contrite -heart. The people had been commanded to confess their sins; it were time -that he began. - -He knelt at his table, bending his head over the very place where he -wrote his sermons, and as he prayed before God the sins of early years -came up before him, and passed as in a woful procession--ghosts which -had risen from their graves, in which they had long been hid beneath -the green grass and the flowers. There remained nothing for him but -to acknowledge them one by one with shame and confusion of face, and -behold! as he did so, and humbled himself before the Lord, they vanished -from his sight till he hoped that the last of them had come and gone. -When it seemed to him as if one had lingered behind the rest, and -desired to see him quite alone, and when the shroud fell down, he looked -into the face of one who had been his friend in college days, and then -he knew that all which had gone before was only a preparation, and this -was now his testing time. - -It was a mighty college to which Carmichael had belonged, and the men -thereof had been lifted high above their fellows, and among them all -there had been none so superior as this man who was once his friend. -Some he looked down upon because they were uncouth in manner; and some -because they were deficient in scholarship; and others, who were neither -ill-bred nor unlearned, he would have nothing to do with because they -had not the note of culture, but were Philistine in their ideas of art -and in their ignorance of "precious" literature. - -In spite of all this foolishness, the root of the matter was in -Frederick Harris. No man had a keener sense of honour, no man was more -ready to help a fellow-student, none worked harder in the mission of the -college, none lived a simpler life. Yet because he was without doubt a -superior person, even beyond all other superior persons--and the college -was greatly blessed with this high order of beings--certain men were -blind to his excellences, and cherished a dull feeling of resentment -against him; and there were times when Carmichael dared to laugh at -him, whereat Harris was very indignant, and reproached him for vulgar -frivolity. - -One day a leaflet was found in every class-room of the college, and in -the dining-hall, and in the gymnasium, and in every other room--even, it -is said, in the Senate-room itself. Its title was, _A Mighty Young Man_, -and it was a merciless description of Harris in verse, from the crown of -his head to the sole of his foot, in all his ways and words--coarse and -insulting, but incisive and clever. He was late in entering the Hebrew -class-room that morning, and was soon conscious that the students were -interested in other things besides the authorship of the Pentateuch. -Opposite him lay the poem, and, after he had read the first verse, his -face turned to a fiery red, and then he left the class-room with much -dignity. - -It had been better for himself, and it would have saved much sorrow to -Carmichael, if Harris had treated the poem with indifference; but, like -many other people who allow themselves the luxury of despising their -fellow-creatures, he was morbidly sensitive when his fellow-creatures -turned on him. For some reason, known only to himself, he concluded that -Carmichael had written the poem, and demanded an apology with threats; -and Carmichael, who had thought the thing in very poor taste, and would -have been willing to laugh at it along with Harris, was furious that -he should have been supposed guilty of such a breach of friendship. So, -being a Celt, who acts by impulse rather than by reason, he told Harris -in the Common Hall that, if he supposed that he had written the sheet, -he was at liberty to do so, and need not expect either a denial or an -apology. - -They never spoke again, nor met except in a public place, and when -Carmichael was ordained minister in the Glen, Harris joined a mission -settlement in one of the lowest quarters of a southern city. - -From time to time Carmichael read greedily of his heroic service, and -the power which he was acquiring--for he had never been haughty with -poor people, but ever with them most gentle and humble. Again and again -it had been laid on Carmichael to write to his old friend, and express -regret for his pride, and assure him of his innocence in the matter of -the squib, but he thought that Harris ought first to write to him, and -then, if he did, Carmichael meant to telegraph, and invite his friend -to come up to the Glen, where they would renew the fellowship of former -days. But Harris gave no sign, and Carmichael had no need to telegraph. - -Carmichael rose from his knees, and opened a drawer in his -writing-table, and from below a mass of college papers took out a -photograph. The firelight was enough to show the features, and -memory did the rest. They had once shared rooms together, and a more -considerate chum no man could have. They had gone on more than one -walking tour together, and never once had Harris lost his temper; they -had done work together in a mission school, and on occasion Harris had -been ready to do Carmichael's as well as his own; they had also prayed -together, and there was no pride in Harris when he prayed. - -What were his faults, after all? A certain fastidiousness of -intellect, and an unfortunate mannerism, and a very innocent form of -self-approbation, and an instinctive shrinking from rough-mannered -men--nothing more. There was in him no impurity, nor selfishness, nor -meanness, nor trickiness, nor jealousy, nor evil temper. And this -was the man--his friend also--to whom he had refused to give the -satisfaction of an explanation, and whom he had made to suffer bitterly -during his last college term. And just because Harris was of porcelain -ware, and not common delf, would he suffer the more. - -He had refused to forgive this man his trespass, which was his first -transgression against him, and now that he thought of it, hardly to -be called a transgression. How could he ask God to forgive him his own -trespasses? and if he neither forgave nor was forgiven, how dare he -minister the sacrament unto his people? He would write that night, and -humble himself before his friend, and beseech him for a message, however -brief, that would lift the load from off his heart before he broke bread -in the sacrament. - -Then it came to his mind that no letter could reach that southern town -till Saturday morning, and therefore no answer come to him till Monday, -and meanwhile who would give the people the sacrament, and how could -he communicate himself? For his own sin, his foolish pride and fiery -temper, would fence the holy table and hinder his approach. He must -telegraph, and an impression took hold upon his heart that there must be -no delay. The clock in the lobby--an eight-day clock that had come -from his mother's house, and seemed to him a kind of censor of his -doings--struck three, for the hours had flown in the place of judgment, -and now the impression began to deepen that there was not an hour to be -lost. He must telegraph, and as the office at Kilbogie would be open -at five o'clock to dispatch a mail, they would send a wire for him. It -would be heavy walking through the snow, but the moon was still up, and -two hours were more than enough. - -As he picked his way carefully where the snow had covered the ditches, -or turned the flank of a drift, he was ever grudging the lost time, and -ever the foreboding was deeper in his heart that he might be too late, -not for the opening of Kilbogie post-office, but for something else--he -knew not what. So bravely had he struggled through the snow that it was -still a quarter to five when he passed along sleeping Kilbogie; and so -eager was he by this time that he roused the friendly postmaster, and -induced him by all kinds of pleas, speaking as if it were life and -death, to open communication with Muirtown, where there was always a -clerk on duty, and to send on to that southern city the message he had -been composing as he came down through the snow and the woods: - -"It was not I. I could not have done it. Forgive my silence, and send a -message before Sunday, for it is my first sacrament in Drumtochty. - -"Your affectionate friend, - -"John Carmichael." - -It was still dark when he reached the manse again, and before he fell -asleep he prayed that the telegram might not be too late, but as he -prayed, he asked himself what he meant, and could not answer. For the -Celt has warnings other men do not receive, and hears sounds they do not -hear. - -It was noon next day, the Saturday before the sacrament, and almost time -for the arrival of the preacher, before he awoke, and then he had -not awaked unless the housekeeper had brought him this telegram from -"Mistress Harris, St. Andrew's Settlement, Mutford, E.": - -"My son Frederick died this morning at eight o'clock of malignant fever. -He was conscious at the end, and we read your telegram to him. He sent -this message: 'Long ago I knew it was not you, and I ought to have -written. Forgive me, as I have forgiven you. My last prayer is for a -blessing upon you and your people in the sacrament to-morrow. God be -with you till we meet at the marriage supper of the Lamb!'" - -The text which Carmichael took for his action sermon on the morrow was, -"Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them who trespass against us," -and he declared the forgiveness of sins with such irresistible grace -that Donald Menzies twice said "Amen" aloud, and there are people who -will remember that day unto the ages of ages. - - - - -IX.--OUR FOREIGN MANNERS - - -IF a student of life will only take his stand in the hall of one of -those Swiss caravansaras which receives a trainful of Britons about -six o'clock some evening in August and despatches them on their way by -Diligence next morning, he will not lose his time, for he will have an -opportunity of studying the foreign manners of his nation. The arrival -of an Englishman of the John Bull type is indeed an event, and the place -is shaken as by a whirlwind. A loud, clear, strident voice is heard -sounding in the English tongue to the extremities of the hall, demanding -that its owner be instantly taken to the rooms--"First floor," I said, -"with best view, according to the telegram sent yesterday," refusing -every explanation as to there being none disengaged, insisting that, -somehow or other, rooms of that very kind be offered, and then grumbling -its way upstairs, with an accompaniment in the minor key from a -deprecating landlord, till a distant rumble dying away into the silence -closes the incident. The landlord has reluctantly admitted that he has -rooms on the second floor, better than any other in the house, which are -being kept for a Russian prince, and if Monsieur will accept them for -the night--and then Monsieur calls his wife's attention to the fact -that when he put his foot down he gets his way. One does not, of course, -believe that the landlord said what was absolutely true, and one would -have been delighted had he plucked up courage and shown our compatriot -to the door. But nothing is easier (and more enjoyable) than to point -out how other people ought to conduct their affairs, and no doubt, -were we Swiss innkeepers, needing to make a year's profit out of three -months, we also would have taken rampant Englishmen by guile, as bulls -are lassoed with ropes. Your heart would be adamant if you did not -pardon the poor little device when our national voice is again raised in -the dining-room ordering away a plate on account of an invisible smut, -complaining of the wine because of a bit of cork, comparing the beef -with the home roasts, and enlarging on a dozen defects in bedroom -service to sympathetic spirits right and left, and, for that matter, -as far as the voice can reach. In England that voice will give it to -be understood that it could not be heard amid the chatter of noisy -foreigners "gabbling away goodness knows what," but as a matter of -fact no combination of German, French, and Italian could resist the -penetrating, domineering, unflinching accent. When that host bows the -voice into an omnibus next morning with great politeness, then one -has an illustration of the spread of the Christian spirit enough to -reinforce the heart in the hours of blackest pessimism. - -Would a foreigner believe that the owner of this terrible voice is -really one of the best? He is the soul of honour, and would cut off his -hand rather than do a mean deed; his servants adore him, though he gives -them what he calls a round of the guns once a week; and the last thing -he did before leaving home was to visit an old gamekeeper who taught -him to shoot the year he went to Harrow. When a good man preaches the -charity sermon, this unsympathetic Englishman is quite helpless, and -invariably doubles the sum set aside in his waistcoat pocket. Upon -the bench he is merciless on poachers and tramps; in private he is the -chosen prey of all kinds of beggars. In fact, he is in one way just what -he specially detests--a sham--being the most overbearing, prejudiced, -bigoted, the most modest, simple-minded, kind-hearted of men; and, in -spite of that unchastened voice, a gentleman from the crown of his head -to the sole of his foot. Certainly he ordereth over much, but he will -take care that every servant has a reward before he leaves--going back -from the omnibus to tip "that fellow with the green apron" who did -some trifle for him last night--and if the landlord had only had the -discernment to have described that accident to him, the driver's widow -would have been richer by fifty francs. - -The blame of our foreign manners is partly geographical. We happen to -be bom in an island, and our amazing ideas about continentals are being -very slowly worn away by travel. It is just breaking on the average -Briton that, although a foreigner does not splash in his bath of -a morning so that neighbouring rooms can follow the details of his -toilette, he may not be quite uncleanly; that one need not hide all -his valuables beneath his pillow because the other three men in his -compartment of the wagon lit do not speak English; that an Italian -prince is not always a swindler, but may have as long a pedigree as -certain members of the House of Lords; and that the men who constructed -the Mont Cenis and St. Gothard tunnels must at least have understood -the rudiments of engineering science. The puzzled expression on our -countryman's face when he discovers that the foreigner can give us -points--in conveyance of luggage, for instance, or the making of coffee, -or in the small agriculture--goes to your heart. It seems to him a -surprise on the part of Providence, and a violation of the favoured -nation's clause. - -Perhaps it ought also to be said in our defence that we are afflicted by -the infirmities of a ruling people. We are not only profoundly conscious -that we are an invincible nation ourselves, but also are saturated -with the belief that we have a commission to govern other nations. Our -talents are mostly exercised in India and Africa, but if one reigns -absolutely anywhere, he carries himself as a king everywhere, and the -ordinary Englishman annexes any place he fancies in holiday time because -his fathers have been appropriating provinces from time immemorial. One -sometimes falls a prey to the Philistine that is in us all, and begins -also to despise what our friend pleasantly calls "all this scraping and -bowing," by which he means a Frenchman's politeness in little things, -and is tempted to think that it would be better if local government on -the Continent were relieved of a burden of petty rules and a host -of gorgeous officials, and were reinforced by a strong infusion of -downright common sense. One means, in plain words, that if a foreign -district were handed over to an English stipendiary magistrate and a -score of London policemen, its people would learn for the first time the -scope and meaning of good government. - -Many well-doing Englishmen cannot unto this day achieve a single -grammatical sentence in any language except their own, and are free -from all pretensions. Our rector stoutly declares that in his popular -lecture, "To Paris and back, or a Glimpse of French Life," he did not -cite the familiarity of Parisian children with French as a proof of -the precocity of foreigners, but he can never watch two Frenchmen -in conversation without innocent enjoyment. The sounds they make are -marvellous, but it is beyond question that they mean something, and it -is pleasant to know that persons who cannot speak English are not left -without means of communication. Foreigners, an Englishman remembers, -labour under hopeless disabilities. Little can be expected from a people -whose language permits a sentence--in a scientific book too--to end with -"zu, ab," and one may not be Pharisaic and yet have gloomy views--this -illustration can be used in the pulpit--about a nation that has no word -for home. One of our French class at school, a stout gentleman now, and -worth 100,000, declares he would never demean himself by any attempt -at foreign tongues, and demands that foreigners should learn English, -"which will yet be the language of the world." He was recently boasting -that he had travelled a month by the aid of signs, although he does -himself less than justice, for on sight of the railway station he will -say "Bannhof, eh?" to the driver in quite a jocular way, as one by way -of pleasing a four-footed pet. - -Tittups, on the other hand, who reached the confines of the future tense -with Moossy, and who affects culture, is understood to have an easy -acquaintance with at least three Continental tongues in their more -literary forms--colloquialisms he firmly refuses--and is worth hearing -in a Florentine shop. "Avete voi" (Tittups is a little man, with a -single eyeglass, and a voice three sizes too large for him); "ah... what -you call... ah, papier und... ah, ein, that is eine Feder," goes through -a panto-mine of writing, and finally obtains what he wants by pointing -it out with his stick. He is fond of enlarging on the advantage of -reading Italian, and insists that no translation has ever conveyed the -grander ideas of Dante, although Tittups admits that the ancient Italian -tries him. "Have to work at it, you know; but the modern, a boy who knows -his grammar can manage it. Seen the _Giomate di Roma_ to-day?" Italians -have a keener insight into character than any people in Europe, and -one could almost pardon the attendant in the Mediterranean sleeper who -insisted that Tittups must be a native-born Tuscan from the way he said -"baga-glia." - -"Gli," Tittups mentioned casually to a friend, is a test in Italian -pronunciation, and he presented the discerning critic with a five-franc -piece at Calais. - -But why should the average man laugh at Tittups, as if he had never had -experiences? Has he never been asked by his companion, to whom he has -been an oracle on German literature, to translate some utterly absurd -and unnecessary piece of information posted on the carriage, and been -humbled in the dust? - -"Oh," he said, quite carelessly, "something about not leaving the train -when it is in motion--zug, you know." - -"Pardon, mein Herr" (voice from the opposite side--what business had he -to interfere?) "but the rule, when it has into English been translated, -shall read------" and it turns out to be a warning not to stop the -train without "plausible" reasons. Nothing is more disconcerting (and -offensive) than to discover that the two imperturbable Germans in your -carriage understand English perfectly, after you have been expressing -your mind on German habits with that courtesy and freedom which are the -prerogative of the Briton abroad. And can anything be more irritating -and inexplicable than to find one's painfully accumulated store of -foreign words ooze away in the crisis of travel, so that a respectable -British matron, eager to be driven by the sea road at Cannes, is -reduced to punching cocher in the small of the back with her parasol and -shouting "eau de vie"--"and he drew up at a low public-house, as if we -had been wanting a drink"--while her husband just escapes an apoplectic -seizure, utilizing the remnants of three languages to explain his -feelings as a Custom-house officer turns the contents of his portmanteau -upside down. - -It is not wise, however, for avaricious foreigners to trade upon our -simplicity, for there is always a chance that they may catch a Tartar. -Never have I seen a more ingenuous youth (in appearance) than one who -travelled with me one night from Geneva to Paris. His unbroken ignorance -of Continental ways, which opposed (successfully) the introduction of -more than four persons into our second; his impenetrable stupidity, -which at last saved him from the Customs; his unparalleled atrocities -on the French language, seemed to precede him on the line and suggest -opportunities of brigandage. They charged him eighteen francs for his -supper at a place where we stopped for nearly twenty minutes, and would -likely have appropriated the remaining two francs out of the Napoleon -he offered, but the bell sounded, and he bolted, forgetting in his -nervousness that he had not paid. The garon followed, whom he failed to -understand, and three officials could not make the matter plainer. -When the public meeting outside our door reached its height there were -present the station-master, seven minor officials, two gendarmes -in great glory, a deputation of four persons from the buffet, an -interpreter whose English was miraculous, and a fringe of loafers. -Just as the police were about to do their duty our fellow passenger -condescended on French--he had preferred English words with foreign -terminations up to that point. His speech could not have exceeded three -minutes, but it left nothing to be desired. It contained a succinct -statement of facts--what he had eaten, and how much each dish cost; -what he was charged, and the exact difference between the debt and the -demand; an appeal to the chef de gare to investigate the conduct of the -buffet where such iniquities were perpetrated on guileless Englishmen; -and lastly a fancy sketch of the garon's life, with a selection -of Parisian terms of abuse any two of which were enough to confer -distinction for a lifetime. He concluded by offering three francs, -forty-five cents, as his just due to the manager of the buffet, and his -thanks to the audience for their courteous attention. - -"I am an Englishman by birth," he explained to a delighted compartment, -"but Parisian by education, and I think this incident may do good." - -Certainly it has often done one man good, and goes excellently with -another where imagination reinforces memory with happy effect. One had -a presentiment something was going to happen when two devout ladies -secured their places in the Paris express at Lourdes, and before they -entered placed the tin vessel with water from the sacred well on the -floor of the compartment. It was certainly unfortunate that they did not -keep it in their arms till the precious treasure could be deposited in -the rack. Lourdes pilgrims would recognize the vessel even in its state -of temporary humiliation, but there was a distinct suggestion of humbler -uses, and an excited Englishman must not be hardly judged. - -"Here you are, dear," he shouts to his wife, guarding the rugs; "plenty -of room, and a hot water pan for your feet." - -They all got in together--two Parisian ladies, who (likely) could not -speak a word of English, and our fellow patriot, who was (likely) as -ignorant of French. And the tin vessel. - -Did they lift it with reverence and fold it in many wraps, and did he -fight for its possession? Are they still describing the wanton impiety -of this heretic? and has he a conclusive illustration of the incredible -folly of our neighbours? Perhaps, after all, they knew each other's -tongues, and then nothing happened; but surely there must have been -circumstances, and I, with a spare moment at my disposal occasionally, -refused to be robbed of that interior. - - - - -X.--NILE VIEWS - - -IF one has only three weeks' holiday, and desires sunshine for his body, -let him spend the time upon the Riviera, where he will get a few degrees -higher temperature and a little more sunshine than in Cornwall--with -worse food and a more treacherous climate--and if he rather desires -inspiration for his mind, let him go to Florence; but in any case let -him understand that there is no place in Europe where one can get equal -good both for mind and body, and no place where one can escape winter. -Upon this matter doctors dream dreams and invalids fondly talk against -facts, for the cold in Florence, say, in the month of February, is quite -monumental for its piercing quality, and bad weather on the Riviera is -more cheerless than a wet day in the West Highlands, since in the latter -case you can get a decent fire during the day, and in the evening -you may have a sunset to remember for life. If, however, through any -conjunction of favourable circumstances, a man has six weeks at his -disposal in winter time (it is not likely he will have this very often -in the present vale of tears), then let him take his courage in both his -hands, and go to the Nile. Suppose he had three months, and were a good -sailor, then he ought to join a P. and O. liner at London, and go the -long sea voyage, for there is a chance, even in December or January, -that he might have summer weather on the fickle Mediterranean, and--such -things have happened--across the Bay. But with half that, time his plan -is to go by the special boat express to Marseilles, and join his steamer -there for Port Said; or, if he be hopelessly in fear of the sea, and -wishes to save every hour for Egypt, to take the Brindisi mail, and -cross to Port Said by one of the two passenger torpedo boats which make -the passage between Italy and Egypt in about forty-eight hours either -over the sea or through it. - -Until it has been completely rebuilt after Western fashions, and -electric trolley cars are running down a widened Mooskee, and the men -have given up the tarboosh and the women their veil, Cairo will always -fascinate a European by its Eastern atmosphere. Sitting on the verandah -before his hotel, and looking over the heads of a herd of dragomen, -guides, pedlars, and beggars, he will see a panorama pass. A Pasha's -carriage, with a running footman in front, and the great man within, -mourning the restraints of European government; a camel from the -outlands laden with fresh green grass; a water-seller with his -leather barrel upon his back; a company of Egyptian soldiers, marching -admirably, and looking as if they could go anywhere; working women in -dark blue, with only their eyes visible, which are said to be the single -beautiful feature they possess; a closed carriage, with two ladies of -a great man's harem; a miscellaneous crowd of sellers of many articles, -shouting their goods, and workmen of many trades carrying things they -have made; a Bedouin from the desert in his white flowing robes, tall -and stately, and a Nubian as black as ebony from up country, with people -of all shades between white and black, and in all colours; here and -there a European tourist looking very much out of place in his unsightly -garments, and a couple of Highland soldiers looking as if the whole -place belonged to them. And if one desires to bathe in the life of -the place, then he can spend a day drifting up and down the Mooskee, -plunging down side alleys, attending native auctions, watching street -dramas, bargaining in bazaars, and visiting mosques; but the wise man -who is seeking for rest will not abide long in Cairo. Its air is close -and not invigorating, its smells innumerable and overpowering, its -social occupations wearisome and exacting, and its fleas larger, -hungrier, more impudent, and more insinuating than those of any other -place I have ever known. When the visitor has seen the citadel--and -sunset from the citadel is worth the journey to Cairo--and half a -dozen of the grander mosques, and the Pyramids and the great Museum of -Egyptian Antiquities, then, although it may be difficult to resist the -delightful hospitality of the English community, military and civil, the -traveller had better start by the Nile for Upper Egypt. - -Nothing surely can be so restful as life on a Nile boat, where one lies -at his ease upon the deck with some book like _Pyramids in Progress_ in -his hand, and watches the procession along the banks of men, women, and -children, donkeys, camels, cattle, and occasionally horses, which -goes on from Cairo to Assouan, and, so far as I know, to Khartoum, and -looking into the far distances of the desert, across the strip of green -on either side of the river, and listening to the friendly sound of the -water wheels which distribute the Nile through the parched ground, and -then standing to see the blood-red sunset fade into orange and green -and violet, while the river turns into that delicate and indescribable -colour which, for want of some other word, is known as water-of-Nile. -The river itself takes hold of the imagination, whose origin has been -a historical mystery, on whose rise and fall the welfare of a country -depends, which carries the fertility of Egypt in its bosom, and on which -nations depend for their very life. No wonder it runs as a blue streak -through the frescoes in the tombs, and is never away from the thoughts -of the painters, for the Nile runs also through the life of the people. -It is the great highway up which the native boats sail their skilful -course driven by the north wind, down which they drop laden with produce -or pottery. It gives them the soil they till, which is rich enough to -bear twelve harvests a year, if crops could be ripened in a month. Upon -its banks the people sit as at their club; they bring down their -cattle to water at it, they wash in the Nile, both themselves and their -clothes, they swim and dive in the Nile as if they had been bom in it, -and they drink its thick, brown, sweet water with such relish that a -native Egyptian resents the idea of a filter because it takes away from -him the very joy of taste, and laughs at the idea of danger from his -loved Nile, which may give typhoid fever to Western tourists, but will -never do any injury to its own children. - -After sugar cane and doora, the chief product of the steaming, prolific -Nile valley is the Fellaheen, who are not the descendants of the ancient -Egyptians, a lineage justly claimed by the Copts, but who are the -Egyptian people of to-day. The Fellah is the absolute creature of his -environment, an offspring of Nile mud, and when he is working on his -field, in the garments nature gave him, can hardly be distinguished -from the soil. He is brown, well-built, enduring, with perfect teeth and -excellent health. His home is a mud hut, with one room where he and his -family eat, and another where they sleep, and a courtyard inhabited by -the livestock of goats, donkeys, cocks and hens, pigeons, and a dog. It -is thatched with palm branches or doora straw, and on the roof the dog -will promenade in the daytime with great dignity, and from the roof, -when the moon is shining, and thoughts occur to his mind, he will -express himself to the other seventy-six dogs of the village who are -on their roofs, and are also moved to speech, with the result that no -European can sleep in the vicinity. Add a few vessels and mats by way -of furniture to the inside of the hut, and build a mud jar on the top -of the courtyard wall where the baby of the family can be put in safety, -and the household equipment of the Fellah is complete. He is very -ignorant, is not very keen about his religion, has no principles, except -a habit of industry and a keen sense of property, and he has not one -comfort or luxury of civilization, and not one political or national -ambition. But he has all the clothes he needs, which certainly is not -very much; he has plenty to eat, and for drink the endlessly delightful -Nile water; he is very seldom cold, and he has sunshine from January to -December, and from morning to night. Thanks to England, he is no longer -dragged away to work upon canals and public enterprises without wages -and without food, and to perish through toil and disease as his father -did, but is now paid and cared for when working for the community. He is -no longer in terror of the lash, and he is not robbed by his rulers; he -gets justice at the courts, and is now being delivered from the hands -of the money-lender, that terror of the East, by the excellent national -bank which has been recently established, and which advances him money -on reasonable terms. We pity him as we pass, toiling at his shadoof, -or coming like a rabbit out of his burrow, because he works so hard -and lives so plainly, and has no books and no vote, and no glass in his -windows, and no cheap trips. But perhaps we had better reserve our pity -for the home land. One does not see in the Arab village the ignoble -squalor of a town slum, nor the dreary, hopeless poverty, nor the evil -look of degraded people, nor the miserable intemperance. The Fellah does -not stand very high in the evolution of society, and neither his wife -nor his child is particularly fortunate; one would not wish to be a -Fellah, but, at any rate, he does not know the pinch of want, he is -on good terms with everybody, he has a ready joke, which perhaps it is -better you do not understand, and a quick smile; he is a well-fed and -contented animal. - -The Fellah can be studied near at hand in your donkey boy, who is simply -a Nile peasant quickened by contact with Europeans. Within five minutes -he sizes you up with unerring judgment, and knows whether he can get -baksheesh from you by annoyance, or will fare better by leaving you in -peace; whether he can do as he pleases with you in the matter of speed, -or whether it will be better to do as you tell him. Once you are on -good terms with him--have learned the name of the donkey, approved the -donkey's excellence and his own, and settled whether you are going to -race or not--he settles down to make the journey agreeable both for -himself and you. He will make jests about every little incident, join -in the chorus of English songs, give information, such as he can, on -antiquities, and delight to teach you Arabic. Suppose you have a long -wait somewhere, and time is dragging, two of the junior donkey boys -will improvise a play. They will get up a fight, and after cuffing one -another in a way that would almost deceive you into the belief that they -were serious, one will knock the other down, and the fallen hero will -look as dead as Rames es the Great. A crowd will gather round him, -lifting a leg or an arm, which falls heavily to the ground, raising his -head, which rolls helplessly to the side. Horrified, they will then look -at one another, and shake their heads; they will cover the dead man's -face, and proceed to carry him home. By-and-by they will have a funeral, -and convey the corpse to the cemetery with wailing and weeping, and -after it has been solemnly laid to rest there will be a rapid and -delightful resurrection. The mourners will turn a set of somersaults -with extraordinary rapidity, the murderer and his victim will give -a gymnastic exhibition, and then the whole company, having raised an -enthusiastic hip, hip, hurrah! in applause for their own drama and as -a genial tribute to the Anglo-Saxon race, will stand opposite you in a -body with the most solemn countenance and demand baksheesh. - -Like other folk, the donkey boys have their own trials, and I am still -sorry for Hassan, who attended me for four days at Luxor, and with whom -I became very friendly. His donkey was called Telephone, and was very -strong, handsome, and well caparisoned, and had, indeed, only one vice, -and that was that he would not go slowly, although the thermometer -stood at 130 degrees in the sun, but insisted on leading the procession. -Hassan had just married, and was never weary of describing the beauty -and goodness of his sixteen-year-old bride, and he was greatly lifted -when I sent home to her by his own hand a present of a silk headdress--I -think at least that was what the silk would be used for--such as I was -assured by a native friend the young women of that ilk greatly loved. -Hassan parted with me in high spirits when I went up the river, and I -promised that, on my third visit to Egypt, which will likely never take -place, I would ride no other donkey but "Telephone," and have no other -footman but Hassan. And then tidings reached me at Assouan that the poor -bridegroom had been drawn for the army. For thirteen years he would have -to serve, partly in the regular forces, partly in the police, and for -half the time he would be entirely separated from his wife, and perhaps -for it all, and at the thought thereof and the terror of the army, and -the unknown places and duties before him, there was great lamentation in -Hassan's little home. So Hassan is by this time being drilled at Cairo, -and soon will be a smart soldier in the Egyptian army; but up at Luxor -his young wife will be mourning for him, and, alas! for an Eastern -woman, she will be aged before Hassan returns. This is the shadow which -hangs over the life of a Fellah. - - - - -XI.--THE RESTLESS AMERICAN - -MANY Americans were good enough to call upon me before I had the -pleasure of visiting their country, and many Americans have called -since, and no American ever does me this honour without charging the -very atmosphere of my study with oxygen, and leaving an impression of -activity which quickens my slow pulses and almost reduces me to despair. - -It is now several years ago that a tall, thin, alert man followed his -card into my study with such rapidity that I had barely time to read it -before my visitor was in the room. - -"My name is Elijah K. Higgins, and I am a busy man. You are also busy -and have no time to fool away. Four days is all I can give to the United -Kingdom, and I wished to shake hands with you. Good-bye, I am off to -Drumtochty." - -I calculate that Mr. Higgins spent thirty seconds in my study, and left -the room so swiftly that I overtook him only at the front door. When I -asked him if he knew where Drumtochty was, "Guess I do!" he said. "Got -the route in my pocket, north-west from Perth, N.B.," and in two seconds -more he was whirling away in a fast hansom. As I returned to my study -and imagined my visitor compassing Great Britain (I think he excluded -Ireland, but I am not certain) in four days, I was for a moment roused -from the state of comparative lethargy which we, in England, call work, -and added six more engagements to my afternoon's programme. For days -afterwards, and as often as I was tempted to rest in my chair, the -remembrance of that whirlwind gave me a shock of new vigour. Sometimes -a reaction would follow, and I humbly thanked Providence, although that -was to write myself a weakling and a sluggard, that I was not bom in the -country where Mr. Higgins lived and was at home. - -Such lively experiences, which I often recall in jaded moments, prepare -one for a visit or a re-visit to America, as a tonic gives a sluggish -person an appetite for dinner, and it is bare justice to say that -one's expectations of American energy in its own home have not been -disappointed. If Americans, depressed by our heavy climate and our -leisurely life, could yet maintain such a level of thought and motion, -what might not be possible to them in their own country, where the -atmosphere is charged with electricity, and every second man is a -"hustler from way-back." The stir of the New World affects the visitor -and quickens his pulses as he goes up the Hudson and gets his first -glimpse of New York. Your steamer had waited four hours at Queenstown -for the mails, but the same mails were transferred to the United States -tender as the steamer steams up the bay. Little tugs dart about on all -sides with feverish speed, and larger steamers pass with their upper -machinery indecently exposed, as if there had not been time, or it had -not been worth while, to cover it. Buildings of incredible height line -the shores, and suggest that the American nation, besides utilizing the -ground, proposes also to employ the heavens for commercial purposes. It -was, I think, a Texas paper which translated the austere saying, "_Per -aspera ad astra_," into "the hustler gets to heaven," and certain New -York builders seem now to be on the way. Whetted by this overture on the -river, one is ready for the full music of the city; and I wish to -pay the compliment with all honesty that New York, with the possible -exception of Chicago, is the activest and noisiest place I have ever -seen, or expect to see, in this present world. While an English merchant -saunters down to his office between nine and ten, a New York man rises -at half-past six in his suburb and is busy at work at eight o'clock. The -Englishman takes off an hour during the day for luncheon at his club, -while the American eats his meal in fifteen minutes. The Englishman -spends more than another hour at afternoon tea, and gossip with friends, -and sauntering about between his club and his office, while the American -packs every minute with work. The very walk of an English merchant, -slow, dignified, self-satisfied, and that of the American, rapid, -eager, anxious--the one looking as if time were of no importance nor -circumstances, and the other as if the loss of a minute might mean -ruin--are the visible indices to the character of the nations. It -is only yesterday that elevators were introduced into English city -buildings, and there are many London offices to which you still have to -make an Alpine ascent of four stairs; but a New Yorker regards a stair -as a survival of barbarism, and hardly knows how to use it. The higher -buildings have several sets of elevators, like the four tracks which -railways lay down to work the swift and slow traffic. - -"Don't go in there," my friend said, with whom I was going to lunch at -a club on the top floor of a many-storied New York building. "That's an -accommodation elevator; stops, you know, at every station. This is the -express for the top floor." - -"Would it have made much difference?" I said. - -"Very nearly a minute," as if the loss of the minute would have thrown -us back for the rest of the day. - -No man goes slow if he has the chance of going fast, no man stops to -talk if he can talk walking, no man walks if he can ride in a trolley -car, no one goes in a trolley car if he can get a convenient railway, -and by-and-by no one will go by railway car if he can be shot through a -pneumatic tube. No one writes with his own hand if he can dictate to a -stenographer, no one dictates if he can telegraph, no one telegraphs if -he can telephone, and by-and-by, when the spirit of American invention -has brought wireless telegraphy into thorough condition, a man will -simply sit with his mouth at one hole and his ear at another, and do -business with the ends of the earth in a few seconds, which the same -machine will copy and preserve in letter books and ledgers. It is the -American's regret that at present he can do nothing with his feet while -he is listening at the telephone, but doubtless some employment will be -found for them in the coming age. - -If a slow-witted and slow-moving Englishman desires a liberal education, -let him take a journey of a month on the steam cars in the United -States. No train in Europe travels as fast as certain American -expresses, and if other trains go slower it is a matter of thankfulness, -because they are less likely to kill passengers on level crossings, or -in the main streets of the city along which they take their way, and -cattle have more time to get off the unprotected tracks. As trains have -also a trick of jumping the rails, either through the rails spreading -or the eccentricity of the engine, both being instances of exuberant -national vitality, it is just as well that every express does not go at -the rate of the Empire State Express on the New York Central. Nowhere -in Europe can a traveller find stronger or handsomer cars, and they are -marvels of adaptability and convenience. There is a dining car, in -order that you may not lose time at a station, and also, which is not -unimportant, in order that you may be able to occupy your time with -something practical on the train. Of course, there is a smoking -compartment, where men can compare notes upon politics and business, and -be able to escape from idleness and themselves. The best expresses -have a reading car, where the American can pick up such morsels of -information from the magazines as he can contain between the interstices -of business. There is a desk where he can read his letters, and -a typewriter to answer them, for this train is the American's -sleep-ing-place and dining-place, and his home and his office. One thing -only he regrets; the train, as it flies along, is not connected with -the telegraph and the telephone, so that, as an idea occurs to him or -he obtains a hint from a man in the smoking car, he might be able to do -business with his correspondents in Chicago or San Francisco. While -an Englishman on a railway journey is generally dressed in roughly and -loosely fitting tweeds, suggestive of a country life and of sport, -the coat of his American cousin is of dark material and has not a -superfluous inch of cloth. From his collar to his neat little boot the -American is prim, spick-and-span, and looks as if he had come out of a -band-box and were ready to appear in the principal room of any office. -He is dressed in fact for business, and looks like business from -the crown of his head to the sole of his feet, while an Englishman's -appearance suggests that he is going to see a cricket match or that he -has retired to live upon a farm. - -My countryman arrives at the station with two and a half minutes to -spare, and laden with small baggage. A porter carries his rug and an -ulster, very likely also a hat-box and a bag with books, papers, and -such like in it, to say nothing of an umbrella and a mackintosh, and he -secures his seat at the last moment. He fastens his hat above his head, -puts on a travelling cap, changes into an ulster, if it be winter time, -and throws a rug over his knee; he puts on travelling gloves, and gets -out the Times, and he will sit without budging and read his _Times_ -without intermission for fifty minutes. Besides these trifles with him -in the carriage, he has a portmanteau in the van, which he hopes has -been addressed, and which the porter promised to see put in, and he will -scramble for it at his terminus along with a hundred other passengers, -who are all trying to identify and extricate their luggage from a huge -heap on the platform. - -The American reaches the dpt by a trolley car ten minutes at least -before the hour of departure, having sent his heavy luggage, if he -has any--which is not likely--by baggage express. His only personal -equipment is a slim and compact valise, which, in regard to opening and -shutting, is a marvel of convenience. This he carries in his hand, and -places beneath or beside the seat which he has secured two days before. -He does not carry a rug because the cars are heated, nor an umbrella -because it is not the rainy season. His top coat he hangs up beside his -seat, as if he were in his own house; and his hat if he so please. He -does not wear a travelling-cap any more than in his own drawing-room, -nor gloves in the train any more than in his own office. Should his -hands be soiled, he goes to the lavatory where there are large basins -and an ample supply of water, and if his coat be dusty, there is a -negro porter in every car to brush it. The immense repose of the English -traveller is quite impossible for this mercurial man, whose blood and -whose brain are ever on a stir. Very rarely will you see him reading a -book, because he is not accustomed to read, and the demands of a book -would lessen his time for business meditation. Boys with newspapers -circulate through the cars, and he buys each new paper as it appears -at the different towns. Whether it be Republican, or Democratic, or a -family paper or a yellow journal, does not matter to him; he glances at -the startling headings, takes an accident or a political scandal at -a mouthful, skims over the business news, sees whether anything has -happened at the Philippines, notes that the canard of the morning has -been contradicted in the afternoon, and flings paper after paper on -the floor. Three minutes or, in cases of extreme interest, five minutes -suffice for each paper, and by-and-by this omnivorous reader, who -consumes a paper even more quickly than his food, is knee deep in -printed information or sensation. For two minutes he is almost quiet, -and seems to be digesting some piece of commercial information. He then -rises hurriedly, as if he had been called on the telephone, and makes -for the smoking-car, where he will discuss "Expansion" with vivid, -picturesque speech, and get through a cigar with incredible celerity. -Within fifteen minutes he is in his place again; and, a little -afterwards, wearying of idleness, he is chewing the end of a cigar, -which is a substitute for smoking and saves him from being wearied with -his own company. Half an hour before the train is due at his station, -he is being brushed, and getting ready to alight. Before the train -has reached the outskirts of the town, he has secured his place in a -procession which stands in single file in the narrow exit passage from -the Pullman. Each man is ready dressed for business and has his valise -in his hand; he is counting the minutes before he can alight, and is -envying the man at the head of the procession, who will have a start of -about two seconds. This will give him a great advantage in business, and -he may never be overtaken by his competitors till evening. - -Suppose he lands at 6 a.m., he will find breakfast ready in a hotel, -and half a dozen men eating as if their lives depended upon finishing -by 6.15 a.m. Before seven he will have disposed of a pile of letters, -dictating answers to a typist attached to the hotel, he will have -telegraphed in all directions, and made half a dozen appointments in the -town by telephone. Within the forenoon he will finish his business and -depart for some neighbouring town, lunching on the cars. The second town -he will dispose of in the afternoon, and that evening go on board -the sleeper to travel 400 miles to a third town, where he is going to -negotiate a contract at 8 o'clock next morning. If you sympathize with -him, and wonder how flesh and blood can stand the speed, he accepts your -sympathy as a compliment, and assures you that he never sleeps so well -as on the cars. He never seems to be out of sorts or out of temper: he -is always thoroughly alive and quite good-natured. Sometimes he may -seem for a moment annoyed, when he cannot telegraph as often as he wants -along the line, or when the train is not on time, that he may make a -connection. Nothing would wound him so deeply as to "get left," and he -can only affect to be unconscious when some one declares that he is "no -slouch, and that there are no flies on him." If he is obliged to spend -two hours doing nothing in a hotel, when business is over, then he rocks -himself and smokes, and it is a wonderful spectacle for an indolent -Englishman to look down from the gallery that commands the hall of the -hotel, and to see fifty able-bodied fellow-men who have worked already -twelve hours, at least, and put eighteen hours' work into the time, -all in motion. (One wonders why this motion is not utilized to drive -something.) He discovers how unlike cousins may be, for an Englishman -never moves unless he is obliged to or unless he wants to shoot -something, and these remarkable men never rest unless when they are -asleep. About that even, I am not sure, and I was often tempted to draw -aside the curtain from a berth in a sleeping-car, and, had I done so, I -should not have been at all surprised to find our friend wide awake -with a cold cigar in his cheek, and rocking his knees for want of more -extensive accommodation. He has always rebelled against the ancient -custom of sleep, which he regards as a loss of time and an anachronism. -All that he can do is to spend the night in a sleeping car, which, as he -will tell you, annihilates time and space. - -Foreigners travelling in the States in their innocence are amazed that -a delicate-minded nation, like the Americans, should be willing to sleep -after the fashion of the Pullman cars, and should not insist upon the -Continental cabin-car. The reason for the Arcadian simplicity of the -sections is not really economy, for no American would ever think twice -of spending a dollar; it is simply their abounding and dominant energy. -If you sleep in cabins at night, you must sit in cabins by day; and -this would mean a seclusion and repose which are very distasteful to -the high-strung American temperament. It would be like bottling up a -volatile gas; and one imagines that it might lead to an explosion, which -some day would break down the partitions and break up the car from end -to end. The American must see everything in his car and hear everything, -for which he depends upon the peculiar quality of the local voice; -and he must be at liberty to prowl about his car, and to sit with his -friends here and there. The car is his little world for the time, and he -is not going to live in a backwater. - -There seems no doubt that an American workman will do from twenty-five -to thirty-three per cent, more than an Englishman in the same time, and -that the higher wages of the American have their compensation for -the capitalist in a workman's quickness of mind and sleight of hand. -Everything goes at an accelerated speed, with wonderful inventions in -labour-saving machinery and devices to economize time. If the great end -of a nation be to do as much as possible in as short a time as possible, -then the American climate has been practically arranged for that end. An -Englishwoman living in the States becomes effervescent, and the native -American is the brightest woman on the face of the earth. While the -English atmosphere is heavy and soothing, and lends itself to thought -and quietness, the American climate is exciting and exhilarating, and -quickens both mind and body to the highest activity. It is an electric -climate, and the electricity has passed into the people, who are simply -vessels charged up to a certain number of volts. These vessels as -sources of motive power can then be attached to pulpits, or offices, or -workshops or politics. Of course, a day is apt to come when the vessels -will have been completely discharged, and it arrives very frequently -without warning. A little confusion in the head, and a slight numbness -in the limbs, and the man has to go away a year to Colorado Springs -or to Los Angeles. If he is fortunate, he can be recharged and run for -another five or ten years; then nature does not give any warning, but -simply stops the heart or darkens the brain, and you must get another -man. - -No one, unless he leaves the country or becomes a crank, can escape from -this despotism of activity; he is part of the regiment and must march -with his fellows. The idea of making a competency and then retiring, -say, into the country, never crosses a man's mind. When you urge economy -upon a man for this end, you have injured your case, and are pleading -on the other side. With such a prospect before him, he is more than -ever resolved to be a spendthrift. To seclude an active American in an -old-fashioned country house, with ivy climbing round its Tudor windows, -even although there should be a library of black oak inside and a rose -garden outside, would be cruelty; it would be to imprison a squirrel in -a golden cage. What greatly impresses the traveller in the United States -is that the rich men work as hard and as long as the poor, and that -they cannot even give attention to the affairs of their country, but -are willing to leave them to the very doubtful management of the "Boss," -because it would not pay them to leave their business and go into -politics. If the end of life be riches, then the clever American is a -successful man, for in no country does a respectable man become so very -rich, or rich so soon, and if not respectable he still may do fairly -well. You cannot have everything, however, and one notes that the -average rich man has paid a price for his dollars. He has read very -little--his wife reads for him; he has travelled very little--his -daughters travel for him. He has no voice in the State--professional -politicians speak for him; he has no amusements, unless you include -speculation; and he has no pleasant periods of rest, unless you accept -as an equivalent comparatively early and sudden death, which often -arises from acute indigestion. He has not time to stop and realize -himself, unless, but this is a large exception, when he has dyspepsia. -One reason, perhaps, why Americans do not rest is that given to me by a -bright woman: "We are all so tired," and the American is the victim of -his own qualities. - -One, of course, acknowledges the advantages of this amazing energy, and -there are times when a stolid Englishman grows envious. A university in -America is created in ten years and endowed to the extent of millions -sterling, and equipped with chairs of which a European never dreamt, and -laboratories which border upon palaces. Libraries and picture galleries -are rising in every city, for which the treasuries of Europe have been -ransacked; and, were it not for the restriction of governments, the Old -Masters would have to be sought, not in Italy and England, but in New -York and Chicago. New towns are designed upon a scale of magnificence, -as if each were to be the capital of an empire, and are at least -outlined in building within a few years. Should it be necessary, an army -can be created within a few months, and in a couple of years a new -trade can be established which will kill its European rivals. An English -farmer with fifteen hundred acres is a considerable man, but an American -can have fifteen thousand acres and his different farm buildings will be -connected by telephone. A self-made man in England marries his daughter -to a baronet and is much lifted; but the daughter of a self-made man -in America will marry an English duke, and consider she has conferred -a benefit. When you go to a Western town, you may be taken to see a -university; if not, you are taken to a dry-goods store; each, in its own -way, is the largest of its kind. Certainly, there are stores in America -which have no rival in the Old World, and which you are expected to -visit with the same appreciation as the Duomo of Florence. - -There is almost nothing that the United States does not possess, except -political purity, and nothing which an American cannot do, except rest; -and in the conflict with foreign competition, he has almost discounted -victory. Whether he be able, that is, patient and thorough in the -discovery of principles, may be a question; that he is clever, by which -one means bright and ingenious in turning principles to account, is -beyond all question. If America has not yet had time to produce a -Lord Kelvin, it has given us telephones; and if Professor Dewar has -astonished the world with his liquid air, an American trust is, it -is said, being formed to handle it for commercial purposes. If we are -thought to be dull and slow, as we travel among the most stimulating and -hospitable people on the face of the earth, let some excuse be made for -us and let our hosts share the blame. An Englishman in the United States -is half dazed, like one moving amid the ceaseless din and whirling -wheels of a huge manufactory, where the voice has to be raised to a -shriek, and a sentence compressed into a single word. He goes home -greatly humbled in his estimation of himself, and in low spirits about -the commercial future of his country. He has no bitterness, however, -within his heart, for are not these people of his own blood, and are not -their triumphs his, even if they threaten to outrun his own nation in -the race of productive commerce? And when he comes back to England, has -he not his compensations, Stratford-on-Avon, and Westminster Abbey, and -the greenery of the Home Counties, and the lights and shadows of the -Scots Lochs, and the musical voices of the English women, and the quiet, -contented, cultured English homes? - - - - -XII.--A SCOT INDEED - - -HE had demanded that afternoon to be told the truth, and the doctor, -himself a young Scot, had told him plainly that he could not recover, -and then he had asked, as one man speaking to another, both being brave -and honest men, when he would die, and the doctor thought early next -morning. - -"Aboot daybreak," said the Scot, with much satisfaction, as if, on -the whole, he were content to die, and much pleased it would be at the -rising of the sun. He was a characteristic type of his nation, rugged -in face and dry of manner, an old man, who had drifted somehow to this -English city and was living there alone, and now he was about to die -alone, without friends and in a strange land. The nurse was very kind to -him, and her heart went out to the quiet, self-contained man. She asked -him whether he would like to see a clergyman, and explained that the -chaplain of the infirmary was a good man. - -"A've nae doubt he is," said the Scot, "and that his meenistrations -would be verra acceptable to English fouk, but a've never had ony -dealin's wi' Episcopalians. He micht want to read a prayer, and I -couldna abide that, and mebbe I couldna follow the texts in his English -tongue." - -The nurse still lingered by his bed. He looked up to her and assured -her he was in no need of consolation. "Saxty year ago my mither made me -learn the wale (choice portions) o' the Bible, and they're cornin' up -ane by ane to my memory, but I thank ye kindly." - -As the nurse went back and forward on her duties she heard her patient -saying at intervals to himself, "I know whom I have believed." - -"I am persuaded that neither life nor death." Once again she heard him, -"Although the mountains depart and the hills be removed," but the rest -she did not catch. - -During the afternoon a lady came into the ward whose service to the Lord -was the visitation of the sick, a woman after the type of Barnabas -and Mary of Bethany. When she heard of the old man's illness and his -loneliness, whom no friend came to see or comfort, she went to his -bedside. "You are very ill," she said, "my friend." - -"A'm deein'," he replied, with the exactness of his nation, which -somewhat fails to understand the use of graceful circumlocution and -gentle phrases. - -"Is there anything I can do for you? Would you wish me to sing a few -verses of a hymn? Some sick people feel much comforted and soothed by -singing; you would like, I think, to hear 'Rock of Ages,'" and she sat -down by his bedside and opened her book, while a patient beyond, who had -caught what she said, raised his head to enjoy the singing. - -"Ye're verra kind, mem, and a'm muckle obleeged to ye, but a'm a Scot -and ye're English, and ye dinna understand. A' my days have I been -protestin' against the use o' human hymns in the praise o' God; a've -left three kirks on that account, and raised my testimony in public -places, and noo would ye send me into eternity wi' the sough of a hymn -in my ears?" - -For a moment the visitor had no reply, for in the course of all her -experiences, during which she had come across many kinds of men and -women, she had never yet chanced upon this kind of Scot. The patients in -the infirmary were not distinguished by their religious scruples, and if -they had scruples of such a kind they turned on large and full-blooded -distinctions between Protestant and Catholic, and never entered into -subtleties of doctrine. - -"You'll excuse me, mem, for a'm no ungratefu'," he continued, "and I -would like to meet yir wishes when ye've been so kind to me. The doctor -says I canna live long, and it's possible that my strength may sune give -way, but a'll tell ye what a'm willin' to do." - -The visitor waited anxiously to know what service he was going to render -her and what comfort she might offer to him, but both were beyond her -guessing. - -"Sae lang as a've got strength and my reason continues clear, a'm -prepared to argue with you concerning the lawfulness of using onything -except the Psalms of David in the praise of God either in public or in -private." - -Dear old Scot, the heir of many a covenanting tradition and the worthy -son of covenanting martyrs, it was a strange subject of discussion for -a man's last hour, but the man who could be true to the jots and tittles -of his faith in pain of body and in face of death was the stuff out -of which heroes and saints are made. He belonged to a nation who might -sometimes be narrow and over-concerned with scruples, but which knew -that a stand must be taken somewhere, and where it took a stand was -prepared to die. - -The visitor was a wise as well as gracious woman, and grasped the heart -of the situation. "No, no," she said, "we will not speak about the -things wherein we differ, and I did not know the feeling of the Scots -about the singing of the hymns. But I can understand how you love the -Psalms and how dear to you is your metrical version. Do you know I have -been in the Highlands of Scotland and have heard the Psalms sung, and -the tears came into my eyes at the sound of the grave, sweet melody, for -it was the music of a strong and pious people." - -As she spoke the hard old Scot's face began to soften, and one hand -which was lying outside the bedclothes repeated the time of a Scots -Psalm tune. He was again in the country church of his boyhood, and -saw his father and mother going into the table seats, and heard them -singing: - - "O thou, my soul, bless God the Lord, - And all that in me is - Be stirred up His holy name - To magnify and bless." - -"More than that, I know some of your psalm tunes, and I have the words -in my hymn book; perhaps I have one of the Psalms which you would like -to hear." - -"Div ye think that ye could sing the Twenty-third Psalm-- - - 'The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want'? - -for I would count it verra comfortin'." - -"Yes," she said, "I can, and it will please me very much to sing it, for -I think I love that psalm more than any hymn." - -"It never runs dry," murmured the Scot. - -So she sang it from beginning to end in a low, sweet voice, slowly and -reverently, as she had heard it sung in Scotland. He joined in no word, -but ever he kept time with his hand and with his heart, while his eyes -looked into the things which were far away. - -After she ceased he repeated to himself the last two lines: - - "And in God's house for evermore - My dwelling place shall be." - -"Thank ye, thank ye," he said, after a little pause, and then both -were silent for a few minutes, because she saw that he was in his own -country, and did not wish to bring him back by her foreign accent. - -"Mem, ye've dune me the greatest kindness ony Christian could do for -anither as he stands on the banks of the Jordan." - -For a minute he was silent again, and then he said: "A'm gaein' to tell -ye somethin', and I think ye'll understand. My wife and me wes married -thirty-five years, and ilka nicht of oor married life we sang a psalm -afore we gaed to rest. She took the air and I took the bass, and we sang -the Psalms through frae beginning to end twal times. She was taken frae -me ten year ago, and the nicht afore she dee'd we sang the Twenty-third -Psalm. A've never sung the psalm since, and I didna join wi' ye when ye -sang it, for a'm waitin' to sing it wi' her new in oor Father's hoose -the momin's momin', where there'll be nae nicht nor partin' evermore." - -And this is how one Englishwoman found out that the Scot is at once the -dourest and the tenderest of men. - - - - -XIII.--HIS CROWNING DAY - - -WE will leave the main road which runs through the Glen between oak -trees which were planted fifty years ago, but are only now beginning to -join their branches, and take our way up the hillside till we come to -the purple sea of heather whose billows rise and fall, broken only here -and there by an oasis of green or a running burm. Our goal is this little -cottage which is so low that its roof merges into the hill behind, -and upon whose thatch the wild flowers have encroached. Stoop, if you -please, for it is not wise to have high doorways where the winter storm -beats so fiercely, and being respectable people, we shall be taken into -the inner room, where strangers of high degree are received and the -treasures of the family are kept. It will not take long to give an -inventory of the furniture, and the value will not run to two figures. A -box bed, a small table, four ancient chairs, what they called a chest -of drawers, and on the mantelpiece some peacocks' feathers by way of -decoration, and certain china ornaments representing animals which never -have been seen in this creation, and are never likely to emerge in any -process of evolution. Were this all, I should not have troubled you to -climb so far, or to leave even for five minutes the glory of the open -moor. There is something else in the lowly room which you might well -take a journey to see, for it is a rare sight in shepherds' cottages. -Here is a bookshelf, and on it, I declare, some dozen volumes bound in -full calf, and bearing on one side the arms of a University. You must -revise your judgment of this house, and find another measure than the -height of the walls and the cubic space in the rooms. It matters not -although a house have thirty chambers, with lofty ceilings and soft -carpets and carved furniture; if there be no books which belong to -literature within its walls it is a poor and narrow home, and the souls -therein are apt to be mean and earthly. - -While you are looking at the books the shepherd's wife is looking at -you. From the moment you crossed the threshold she has been thinking of -that bookshelf, and hoping you would take notice thereof, but not for -the world would she have mentioned it by word or sign. We had our own -code of manners in the Glen, and one of our cardinal sins was "blowing," -by which we meant boasting; and while a man though perhaps not a woman, -could be forgiven for "tasting," there was no mercy shown to the person -who allowed himself to brag. When, for instance, old David Ross's son -became a professor, his father and mother simply allowed the glorious -fact to ooze out through Domsie, who certainly had no scruple in making -the most of it, and neither the father nor mother ever said Professor in -public, although we believe they called their son nothing else between -themselves; but the Glen made up for their reticence by decorating -every second sentence about him with the word. All the same, Mistress -McPherson is watching us keenly, and she would be utterly disappointed -if we had overlooked the shelf; and now, in answer to our inquiry, she -will take us into the kitchen and place us by the fireside, that we may -hear the story of her scholar son, which, indeed, is the one romance in -the history of this humble family. - -One morning John left the cottage to go to school, a shepherd's boy, and -likely, as it appeared, to herd sheep and live in the Glen all the -days of his life as his father had done before him. In the evening the -schoolmaster, who is the judge of letters in the Glen, with the minister -as a court of confirmation, came up and told the father and mother that -in the purposes of the Eternal their son was evidently destined to be -a scholar, and that upon them lay the duty of seeing that John made his -calling and election sure. Had tidings come to those two people, whose -wage in money would not amount to ten shillings a week, that they were -heirs to a fortune, it would not have brought such pleasure to their -souls as the good hope that their lowly stock would once at least in -a generation produce the white flower of a scholar's life. The whole -family, father and mother, with their grown-up sons and daughters in -service, will now unite in one labour--to save and to sacrifice, that by -hook or crook their brother may reach a university, and be sustained -in his study there till he has reached its reward. Four years from that -evening, had you been standing under the great arch by which students -enter the quadrangle of Edinburgh University, you had seen the -shepherd's son pass in, plainly dressed and shy in manner, but strong -of body and brave in soul, and charged with all the knowledge that -his schoolmaster and his minister could impart by patient, ungrudging -labour. The lad before him is a noble's son, and the one following is a -merchant's, and so sons of the rich and of the poor, of the high and -of the low, they go together, into the one Republic on the face of the -earth, the Republic of Letters, where money does not count, nor rank, -nor influence, nor intrigue, but where every man stands equal and the -best man wins. - -Another four years and John has obtained his degree, a double first, and -he writes to the cottage on the side of the hill that the two old people -must come up to see him crowned. For six weeks before the day his mother -has just one consuming anxiety, and that is what she should wear on -the occasion, and it is only after fifteen long deliberations with her -gossips in the Glen that the great affair is settled, while the father's -mind is wholly taken up on Sundays with the effort to look as if he were -not the father of a graduate. - -When the shepherd and his wife enter the gates of the University, -they are not to be thought of as two illiterate peasants who cannot -distinguish between a University and a dry-goods store. Although they -had never themselves expected to see so high a place, and had only -cherished it as a secret hope that perhaps one of their boys might -attain so far, they have learned by the tradition of their nation, and -by the speech of Domsie in the kirk-yard on Sabbath, to enter into -the greatness of a university. It is to them the home of the highest -knowledge, and a sacred place to which reverend people might well go -up as a pious Moslem to Mecca or a Jew to Jerusalem. As they cross the -quadrangle, the shepherd touches his wife, and points to an elderly -gentleman in the distance. They follow him with respectful attention as -he shambles along, half a dozen books under his arm, his shabby cloak -held by a single button, a hat as old as Jamie Soutar's resting on the -back of his head. - -"Keep's a', Jeems," whispers Janet respectfully "Div ye really think -that he's a professor?" - -"We canna be sure, woman; he micht juist be a scholar, but I am judgin' -that he's a professor--he hes a' the appearance." - -And the two old people stand still in the bit till he disappears, and -then they go on their way much lifted. Outside religion there is no word -in Scots speech so sacred as "professor." It means a semi-heavenly -body charged with Latin and Greek philosophy and mathematics. It was -something to see such a man, and to be in his company was living in an -atmosphere where you might catch the infection of his learning. When a -glensman, to whom Domsie had spoken of professors with bated breath for -more than a generation, learned that in southern parts the title was -assumed by hairdressers and ventriloquists, and that they were not sent -to gaol for profanity, then Drumtochty discovered another argument for -its favourite doctrine of original sin. - -As the two go down the half-lit passage to the hall of graduation, they -are met by a majestic figure--a young man in evening dress, and over -it the gown of an M.A., with its white silk hood, and on his head the -Master's cap. - -"Are you coming, may I ask," said he, with quite a nice English accent, -to the graduation ceremony, "and can I be of any service?" - -"We are, sir; and as we are strangers frae the country, we would be -muckle obleeged if ye could shew us the door. We dinna want to go where -the gentry are sittin', but if ye would juist tak' us where we could -see, we'd be content and terrible pleased. There's a... friend to get -his degree to-day, and my man and me would like to see him." - -"Mither," said the figure, "and ye dinna ken yir ain son," for he had -taken them in well, and played his little trick with much success. They -had never seen him in evening dress, nor in his Master's robe, and the -light was as darkness; besides, he had dropped the accent of the Glen. -The father and the son laughed together joyfully at Janet, but she -declared that she had known him all the time, and put it to them if a -mother could be mistaken about her son. But she didn't know him all the -same, and as long as she lived it was a pleasant jest between them when -he came north to visit them, and she met him at the garden gate. "Well, -mither," he would say, "div ye ken yir son the day?" - -Janet was well pleased that one should tease her in after times about -this ploy of John's, for it always gave her an opportunity of describing -how handsome he looked in his black and white silk, and of stating that -she. Mistress McPherson, wife of James McPherson, shepherd at Camashach, -considered the dress of a Master of Arts the handsomest that a man could -wear. - -John took his father and mother into the hall, and placed them in the -seats reserved for the friends of graduates, and while a man has various -moments of pure joy in his life, there is none sweeter than when he -brings his mother to see him crowned at the close of his university -career. For in this matter he owes everything to two people--the -schoolmaster who taught him and the mother who inspired him. - -"Now, mither, you watch that door yonder, for through it the procession -will come; and when ye see the men wi' the white silk hoods, ye'll ken -that I'm there, and ye'll surely no mistake me again." - -He was so provoking, and he looked so handsome with the flush of the day -upon his cheek, that, as he stooped over her, she was about to give him -a little shove and tell him not to give "any more impi-dence to his auld -mither," when she remembered where she was sitting, and the grand folk -round her, and so she only answered with a demure nod of intelligence. - -She brought out her glasses, and the shepherd polished them carefully -for her because her hands were trembling, and for that matter he had -almost to put them on her nose, so shaken was she on this great day; and -then she watched the door, as if there was nothing else in all the hall -except that door. It seemed to her twelve hours before it opened and the -procession streamed through with many a famous man and many a coloured -garment. Janet had no eyes for the Chancellor in his purple and gold, -nor for the robes of red and the hoods of lemon silk bordered with white -fur, for there was nothing beautiful in her eyes that day except black -gowns with white silk upon them. When at last the Masters of Arts -appeared, she told me afterwards many and many a time in the Glen that -they were a body of very respectable-looking young men, but that among -them all there was only one outstanding and handsome man, and that, by a -curious accident which mothers only can explain, happened to be her -son. She followed him as he came down the passage, and was a little -disappointed that he was now carrying his trencher in his hand instead -of wearing it-on his head, and she saw him take his seat, and could -hardly forgive some great lady in front of her, whose bonnet, coming in -the line of vision, prevented her catching anything except a little bit -of John's shoulder with the white silk upon it. A little later, and she -watched him rise and go forward and kneel before the Chancellor, and -then there was said over him Latin words so magical that after they were -spoken a student was changed from a common man into a Master of Arts. -We used to say in our jesting that the Latin could not be translated, it -was so mysterious and awful, but the shepherd's wife and John's mother -was an accomplished Latin scholar that day, and she heard the Chancellor -say, as distinctly as ever man spoke-- - -"John McPherson, you are the tallest, strongest, handsomest, ablest, -kindest-hearted son whom this University ever made Master of Arts." -That was a free translation, but it was true in spirit, and the letter -killeth. - -Standing behind the Chancellor, and looking down upon the hall, I saw -the faces of the shepherd and his wife, and I knew that they would never -taste such perfect joy again till they entered through the gates into -the city, and then I longed to be lifted above all circumstances, and to -have the power of the fairy world, where you do what you please. For I -should have gone down into the hall, and held a special and unheard-of -graduation ceremony, conferring a degree of a new kind altogether upon -that shepherd and his wife, because without their unworldly ideals, and -their hard sacrifices, and their holy prayers, John McPherson had never -knelt there that day in his white silk glory, Master of Arts with the -highest honours. - - - - -XIV.--"DINNA FORGET SPURGEON" - - -IS varied charge was given to the good man on the morning of market day -as he brought the mare out from the stable, as he harnessed her into the -dogcart, as he packed the butter basket below the seat, as he wrestled -into his top coat, worn for ceremony's sake, and as he made the -start--line upon line and precept upon precept as he was able to receive -it; but the conclusion of the matter and its crown was ever the same, -"Dinna forget Spurgeon." - -"There's twal pund o' butter for the grocer, the best ever left this -dairy, and he maun gie a shillin,' or it's the laist Andra Davie'ill get -frae me; but begin by askin' fourteenpence, else it's eleven ye'll bring -back. He's a lad, is Andra, an' terrible grippy. - -"For ony sake tak' care o' the eggs, and mind they're no turnips ye're -handlin'--it's a fair temptin' o' Providence to see the basket in yir -hands--ninepence a dozen, mind, and tell him they're new laid an' no -frae Ireland; there's a handfu' o' flowers for the wife, and a bit o' -honey for their sick laddie, but say naethin' o' that till the bargain's -made. - -"The tea and sugar a've markit on a bit paper, for it's nae use bringin' -a bag o' grass-seed, as ye did fower weeks ago; an' there's ae thing -mair I micht mention, for ony sake dinna pit the paraffin oil in the -same basket wi' the loaf sugar; they may fit fine, as ye said, but -otherwise they're no gude neeburs. And, John, dinna forget Spurgeon." - -Again and again during the day, and in the midst of many practical -operations, the good wife predicted to her handmaidens what would -happen, and told them, as she had done weekly, that she had no hope. - -"It's maist awfu' hoo the maister'ill gae wanderin' and dodderin' thro' -the market a' day, pricing cattle he's no gaein' tae buy, an' arguin' -aboot the rent o' farms he's no gaein' to tak', an' never gie a thocht -tae the errands till the laist meenut. - -"He may bring hame some oil," she would continue, gloomily, as if that -were the one necessity of life to which a male person might be expected -to give attention; "but ye needna expect ony tea next week"--as if there -was not a week's stock in the house--"and ye may tak' ma word for it -there'ill be nae Spurgeon's sermon for Sabbath." - -As the provident woman had written every requirement--except the oil, -which was obtained at the ironmonger's, and the Spurgeon, which was -sold at the draper's--on a sheet of paper, and pinned it on the topmost -cabbage leaf which covered the butter, the risk was not great; but that -week the discriminating prophecy of the good man's capabilities seemed -to be justified, for the oil was there, but Spurgeon could not be found. -It was not in the bottom of the dogcart, nor below the cushion, -nor attached to a piece of saddlery, nor even in the good man's -trouser-pocket--all familiar resting-places--and when it was at last -extricated from the inner pocket of his top coat--a garment with which -he had no intimate acquaintance--he received no credit, for it was -pointed out with force that to have purchased the sermon and then to -have mislaid it, was worse than forgetting it altogether. - -"The Salvation of Manasseh," read the good wife; "it would have been a -fine like business to have missed that; a'll warrant this 'ill be ane -o' his sappiest, but they're a' gude": and then Manasseh was put in a -prominent and honourable place, behind the basket of wax flowers in the -best parlour till Sabbath. - -It was the good custom in that kindly home to ask the "lads" from the -bothie into the kitchen on the Sabbath evening, who came in their -best clothes and in much confusion, sitting on the edge of chairs and -refusing to speak on any consideration. They made an admirable meal, -however, and were understood to express gratitude by an attempt at "gude -nicht," while the foreman stated often with the weight of his authority -that they were both "extraordinar' lifted" by the tea and "awfu' ta'en -up" with the sermon. For after tea the "maister" came "but," and having -seen that every person had a Bible, he gave out a Psalm, which was -sung usually either to Coleshill or Martyrdom--the musical taste of the -household being limited and conservative to a degree. The good man then -read the chapter mentioned on the face of the sermon, and remarked by -way of friendly introduction: - -"Noo we'ill see what Mr. Spurgeon has to say the nicht." - -Perhaps the glamour of the past is on me, perhaps a lad was but a -poor judge, but it seemed to me good reading--slow, well pronounced, -reverent, charged with tenderness and pathos. No one slept or moved, and -the firelight falling on the serious faces of the stalwart men, and the -shining of the lamp on the good grey heads, as the gospel came, sentence -by sentence, to every heart, is a sacred memory, and I count that Mr. -Spurgeon would have been mightily pleased to have been in such meetings -of homely folk. - -It was harvest-time, however, when Manasseh was read, and there being -extra men with us, our little gathering was held in the loft, where they -store the com which is to be threshed in the mill. It was full of wheat -in heavy, rich, ripe, golden sheaves, save a wide space in front of the -machinery, and the congregation seated themselves in a semi-circle on -the sheaves. The door through which the com is forked into the loft -was open and, with a skylight in the low dusty roof, gave us, that fine -August evening, all the light we needed. Through that wide window we -could look out on some stacks already safely built, and on fields, -stretching for miles, of grain cut and ready for the gathering and, -beyond, to woods and sloping hills towards which the sun was westering -fast. That evening, I remember, we sang - - "I to the hills will lift mine eyes." - -and sang it to French, and it was laid on me as an honour to read -"Manasseh." Whether the sermon is called by this name I do not know, and -whether it be one of the greatest of Mr. Spurgeon's I do not know, nor -have I a copy of it; but it was mighty unto salvation in that loft, and -I make no doubt that good grain was garnered unto eternity. There is -a passage in it when, after the mercy of God has rested on this chief -sinner, an angel flies through the length and breadth of Heaven, crying, -"Manasseh is saved, Manasseh is saved." Up to that point the lad read, -and further he did not read. You know, because you have been told, how -insensible and careless is a schoolboy, how destitute of all sentiment -and emotion... and therefore I do not ask you to believe me. You know -how dull and stupid is a plowman, because you have been told... and -therefore I do not ask you to believe me. - -It was the light which got into the lad's eyes, and the dust which -choked his voice, and it must have been for the same reasons that a -plowman passed the back of his hand across his eyes. - -"Ye'ill be tired noo," said the good man; "let me feenish the sermon," -but the sermon is not yet finished, and never shall be, for it has been -unto life everlasting. - -Who of all preachers you can mention of our day could have held such -companies save Spurgeon? What is to take their place, when the last -of those well-known sermons disappears from village shops and cottage -shelves? Is there any other gospel which will ever be so understanded of -the people, or so move human hearts as that which Spurgeon preached in -the best words of our own tongue? The good man and his wife have entered -into rest long ago, and of all that company I know not one now; but -I see them as I write, against that setting of gold, and I hear the -angel's voice, "Manasseh is saved," and for that evening and others very -sacred to my heart I cannot forget Spurgeon. - - - - -XV.--THEIR FULL RIGHTS - - -THE departure of a minister of the Scots Kirk from his congregation is, -of course, a subject of regret if he has the heart of the people, but -this regret is tempered by the satisfaction of knowing that there -will be an election. While a free-born Scot is careful to exercise -his political suffrage, he takes an even keener interest in his -ecclesiastical vote, and the whole congregation now constitutes itself -into a constituency. Every preacher is a candidate, and everything about -him is criticised, from his appearance--in one district they would not -have a red-headed man; and his dress--in another district they objected -to grey trousers, up to his voice and to his doctrine; but, of course, -the keenest criticism bears upon his doctrine, which is searched as with -a microscope. As a rule there is no desire to close the poll early, -for a year's vacancy is a year's enjoyment to the congregation giving -endless opportunity for argument and debate for strategy and party -management. One congregation had been ruled so firmly by the retiring -pastor, who was a little man and therefore full of authority, that they -hardly dared to call their souls their own. - -If any one ventured to disagree with this ecclesiastical Napoleon he -was ordered to the door and told to betake himself to some church where -freedom of action was allowed. This magnificent autocracy might have -emptied another church, but it secured a Scots kirk, because to tell a -Scot to go is to make, him stay. As a matter of course, no person did -leave, for that would have been giving in, and the consequence was that -the whole congregation was knit together by the iron bonds of rebellion. - -When Napoleon retired the congregation smacked its lips, for now at -least every one had found his voice and could go his own way. There -never was such a vacancy known in the district. They heard thirty -candidates and rejected them all: they held a meeting every week, which -lasted till midnight, and there were six motions proposed, and no one -dreamed of agreement. It was like the emancipation of the slaves, and -the whole of Scotch cantankerousness came to a height. Every obscure -law was hunted up in order to be used against the other side, and every -well-known law they endeavoured to break. Not because they did not -know the law, but because they wanted to find out whether the presiding -minister knew it. This poor man had the duty of conducting the meetings -of the congregation, and was utterly unfitted for the position by his -exceeding goodness. He was a pious and soft-hearted man, who used to -address them as "dear brethren," and appealed to them on the grounds of -harmony and charity. "You will wish to be at one," he used to say, when -they all really wished to be at sixes and sevens, or, "I am sure," he -would say, "you didn't mean to oppose our dear brother who has just -spoken," when that had been the speaker's intention for twenty-four -hours. One party was led by a tall, raw-boned Scot, with a voice like a -handsaw, who opposed everything, and the other was really managed by the -wife of one of the elders, who could be heard giving directions _sotto -voce_ how to meet the handsaw. They finally drew the wretched acting -moderator to distraction, so that his head, which was never so good as -his heart, gave way, and he required six months' rest in a hydropathic. - -The Presbytery then sent down a minister of another kind, fairly -equipped in law and with no bowels of mercy; a civil, courteous, -determined, fighting man, and there was a royal evening. This minister -explained that they had held many meetings, most of which were -unnecessary, and that they had proposed fifty motions, all of which he -believed were illegal. It was his own conviction he freely stated that -they knew perfectly well that they had been wrong, and that they had -simply been amusing themselves, and he concluded by intimating that they -had met for business on this occasion, that a minister must be elected -before departing, and it was his business to see that he was elected -unanimously. He stood facing the congregation, who were now in a high -state of delight, feeling that there was going to be a real battle, and -that there would be some glory in contending with an able-bodied man, -who would not speak about charity, and say "dear brethren"--words which -always excite a secret feeling of disgust in a Scot. The minister stood -up opposite the congregation, tall, square and alert. "Will you pay -attention and I'll lay down the law; if any one breaks the law he must -sit down at once, and if he does not, I shall not allow him to vote. You -can propose any candidate who is legally qualified, and I will allow one -man to propose him and another to second him, and I will give each five -minutes in which to speak to the excellence of his candidate, and the -moment any person refers to another candidate he must stop. When the -candidates have been proposed we shall take the vote, and we shall go on -voting until we settle upon the candidate who has the majority, and we -will do all this in an hour, and then we will sing a Psalm and go home." - -During this address several stalwart fighters were seen to nod to one -another, and one went the length of slapping his leg, and already the -moderator had acquired the respect of his turbulent congregation. -The handsaw arose and proposed his candidate, and almost immediately -attacked the other party. "Sit down, sir," said the moderator, "you're -out of order," and after a brief stare of amazement and a measuring of -the force against him, the handsaw gave a glance around and collapsed. -A candidate was proposed from the other side, but his name was hardly -mentioned before the mover commenced to refer to the handsaw. "You are -out of order," said the moderator; "not another word," and, although the -female leader of that side nodded to him to go on, he thought better, -and also collapsed. Then an astute old strategist at the back, who had -embroiled many a meeting, and who was sitting with a law book in -his hand, proposed that they should delay the election until another -meeting. "That motion," said the moderator, "I shall not receive. We -have not met to delay; we have met to vote." Whereupon another Scot -arose and stated that he had risen to a point of order, which is always -the excuse by which the proceedings can be interrupted. "What," he said, -"I want to know is this: Is it regular to vote when there was no notice -given that the voting was to take place?" "There was notice given," said -the moderator; "sit down in your place." "Can I not object?" he said. -"No," he said, "you can't." He looked around the meeting. "What," he -said, "is the use of being a Presbyterian if I am not allowed to object? -I might as well be an Episcopalian." The moderator, still standing, eyed -him, and said: "Are you going to sit down or are you not?" "Do you order -me to sit down in your private or in your public capacity?" said the -recalcitrant. "As a man or as a moderator?" For nothing delights a Scot -more than to make this contrast between public and private capacity, -like the Scotch magistrate, who said, "In my public capacity I fine you -five shillings for the assault; in my private capacity I would have done -the same myself." "As moderator," said the minister, "I command you to -take your place." "I consent--I consent," said the Scot, with infinite -relish, like a man who had had a wrestling match and had been fairly -beaten, and he leant back to a friend behind, saying, "Sall, he's a lad, -the moderator," for this is the way in which a man wins respect from -Scots. In a moment he had risen again. "Moderator," he said, "ye -commanded me in yir official capacity to sit doon, and I obeyed, -but"--and there was a silence through the church--"I'll no sit down -for that woman," indicating the elder's wife. "She would turn round and -order me to sit down as if I had been her husband, but, moderator," he -said, "I thank the Almichty I'm not." - -Greatly cheered by this episode, the congregation proceeded to vote, the -leaders taking objections to different voters, which were all overruled -by the moderator, who was now going from strength to strength. And then -at last a minister was elected by a large majority. "Now," said the -moderator, "you've had a fair fight and a year's argument, and there is -not a privilege you have not used, and you have done a thousand things -you had no right to do, and I appeal to the minority to agree with -the majority, as Scots ought to do when they have had their rights." -Whereupon the handsaw arose and declared that he was never prouder of -the Scotch Church than he had been during the last year, and that in all -his life he had never spent a happier time. "We've had a grand argument -and richt stand up fecht, and now," he said, "I'm willing, for masel, -and I speak for my friends, to accept the minister that's been elected, -for I consider him to be a soond preacher and vary spiritual in the -exercises. The fact is," he added, "I would have been content with him -at ony time, but it would have been a peety to have had an immediate -election and to have missed this year. When he comes he'll have my -hearty support, and I'm willing to agree that he should have a proper -stipend, and that the manse be papered and painted and put in order for -his coming." As he sat down he could be heard over all the church saying -to himself with immense satisfaction, "It's been a michty time, and the -law's been well laid down this nicht." The minister gave out the Psalm-- - - "How good a thing it is, and - How becoming well, - To gather such as brethren are - In unity to dwell!" - -Which was sung with immense spirit, and, after the benediction, every -man whom the minister had ordered to sit down came up and shook hands -with him, assuring him that they knew all the time that he was right, -and that they respected him for his ability. They also entreated him -to come and administer the sacrament before the new minister arrived, -believing that a man who could rule with so firm a hand would be an -acceptable preacher of the gospel. - - - - -XVI.--AN EXPERT IN HERESY - - -EVERY country has its own sports, and Scotland has golf, but golf only -satisfies the lighter side of the Scots; the graver side of the Scot -finds its exercise in the prosecution of a heretic. Nothing so delights -this theological and argumentative people as a heresy hunt, and they -have no more ill-will to a heretic than sportsmen have to a fox. It -sometimes occurs to me that they dally with cases in order that they may -be prolonged, and that the sportsmen may have a good run after the -fox. I have even dared to think that they would be willing to preserve -heretics as foxes are preserved in hunting counties in order that they -might have a good time now and again. Every one throws himself into a -heresy case, from the highest to the lowest, from the Duke in his castle -to the shepherd on the hills, from the lawyer in his office to the -railway guard in his van. They all read about it and form their opinion, -and take sides and watch the event, and the issue of the case is a -national incident. From the conflict of wits, in which the hardest heads -have tried conclusions on the deepest subjects, the people return to -business shrewder than ever, more confident and self-satisfied. - -We had missed the connexion, and the North train had gone fifteen -minutes ago, and how I was to reach the station of Pitrodie that night -was a question beyond solution. The station master could give no help, -and only suggested that I might sleep at the inn and take the morning -train, but in that case I would have been too late for the funeral to -which I was going. When he heard the nature of my errand he bestirred -himself with much more zeal, for, although a Scot may not facilitate -your journey for a marriage, which he regards as an event of very -doubtful utility, and associated with little geniality, he is always -ready to assist you to a funeral to which the heart of the Scotch people -goes out with pathetic interest. - -"Would you mind travelling in the guard's van of a luggage train and ye -would be in fine time?" - -On the contrary, I would be delighted, for I had never travelled in such -circumstances, and the guard's van would be a pleasant variety upon a -third-class carriage. - -The guard received me with considerable cordiality and gave me his -seat in the van, which was decorated with pictures of kirks and eminent -divines. For a while he was engaged with various duties, shunting trucks -and making up his train, but after we had started and were out upon the -line he came and placed himself opposite. - -"Now," he said, "we've a run of twenty miles, and it's not likely we'll -be interrupted, for the rails are clear at this time of night, and we're -an express goods. I regard it," he said, "as a providence that ye lost -yer train, for if I'd been asked what I would like this very nicht I -would ha said, 'Gie me a minister.'" - -When I expressed my pleasure at his respect for the cloth, and my -willingness to be of any service to him, he waved his hand as one -does who has been misunderstood. "It's no," he said, "releegious -conversation that I'm wantin', although I'm willing enough to have that -at a time, but there's a point in the Robertson-Smith heresy case that I -would like to have cleared up to my satisfaction." - -A tall and grey-bearded man, about fifty years of age, with a keen eye -and a shrewd face, he leant forward from his place, and, with the light -of the lamp shining on his face, he began: "Now, ye see, the first -article in the libel against Prof. Robertson-Smith has to do with the -construction of the Book of Deuteronomy," but I will not inflict what he -said, for it took ten miles of the railway to open up his point. As we -rattled along the birling of the heavy break van was like music to words -of sonorous sound--"Pentateuch," "Mosaic Authorship," "Confession of -Faith." - -For another ten miles we discussed the length and breadth of the eminent -Hebrew scholar's views till we reached a crisis, which happened also to -be a junction on the railway. "One minute," he said, "and we maun stop, -for we're coming to the junction." The point we were at was the place -of the Song of Solomon in the Old Testament. "Now, I contend," he -continued, "that it hes to be read spiritually, and I've given three -reasons. I've three mair, but I maun shunt the trucks. I'll be back in -ten minutes, and ye'll not forget that the discussion is no closed -but just adjourned, and I've the richt to give the other three reasons -before ye reply." And then, after the three had been given and thirty -more, we parted as the day was breaking. At Pitrodie station he crossed -the platform with me, and shook hands till my bones were almost broken. - -"It's been a very edifying nicht, and I'll gie fair consideration to all -your arguments. Mind ye, I'm proud o' the Professor, for he's a michty -scholar, and I wouldna like to see him put out o' the kirk, but I'm -jalousing that he's a heretic." I stood at a turn of the road and saw -the train pass, and my friend waved his hand to me from the back of the -van, but I could see him sadly shake his head. He was still jalousing -(suspecting) that Prof. Robertson-Smith was a heretic. - - - - -XVII.--THE SCOT AT AN ARGUMENT - - -IT is difficult for one nation to perfectly understand another, and -there is a certain quality of the Scots' intellect which is apt to try -the patience of an Englishman. It is said that an Englishman was once -so exasperated by the arguing by a Scot, who took the opposite side on -every subject from the weather to politics, that at last he cried out in -despair: "You will admit at least that two and two make four," to which -the delighted Scot replied with celerity, "I'll admit naething, but I'm -willing to argue the proposition." It is not recorded whether the Scot -escaped alive, but it is hardly possible to believe that he was not -assaulted. You may be the most conciliatory of people, and may even be -cleansed from all positive opinions--one of those people who are said to -be agreeable because they agree with everybody; and yet a thoroughbred -Scot will in ten minutes or less have you into a tangle of prickly -arguments, and hold you at his mercy, although afterwards you cannot -remember how you were drawn from the main road into the bramble patch, -and you are sure that the only result was the destruction of your peace -of mind for an afternoon. But the Scot enjoyed himself immensely, and -goes on with keen zest to ambush some other passenger. What evil -spirit of logic has possessed this race? an English person cannot -help complaining, and why should any person find his pleasure in wordy -debate? - -From his side of the Tweed and of human nature the Scot is puzzled and -pained by the inconsequence and opportunism of the English mind. After -a Scot, for instance, has proved to his Southern opponent that some -institution is absolutely illogical, that it ought never to have -existed, and ought at once to be abolished, and after the Scot pursuing -his victorious way of pure reason, has almost persuaded himself that -a thing so absurd never has existed, the Englishman, who has been -very much bored by the elaborate argument, will ask with a monstrous -callousness whether the institution does not work well, and put forward -with brazen effrontery the plea that if an institution works well, it -does not matter whether it be logical or not. Then it is that a Scot -will look at an Englishman in mournful silence and wonder upon what -principle he was created. - -The traveller no sooner crosses the border from the genial and -irresponsible South than he finds himself in a land where a nation forms -one huge debating society, and there is a note of interrogation in the -very accent of speech. When an English tourist asked his driver what -was the reason of so many religious denominations in Scotland, and the -driver, looking down upon a village with six different kirks, answered, -"Juist bad temper, naething else," he was indulging his cynicism and -knew very well that he was misinforming the stranger. - -While it is absolutely impossible to make plain to an average Englishman -the difference between one kirk and another in Scotland, yet every one -has its own logical basis, and indeed when one considers the subtlety -and restlessness of the Scots intellect he wonders, not that there -have been so many divisions, but that there have been so few in Scots -religion. By preference a Scot discusses Theology, because it is the -deepest subject and gives him the widest sphere for his dialectic -powers, but in default of Theology he is ready to discuss anything else, -from the Game Laws to the character of Mary, Queen of Scots. He is the -guardian of correct speech and will not allow any inaccuracy to pass, -and therefore you never know when in the hurry of life you may not -be caught and rebuked. When I asked a porter in Stirling Station one -afternoon at what hour the train for Aberfoyle left I made a mistake -of which I speedily repented. _The_ train for Aberfoyle--I had assumed -there was only one train that afternoon, for this beautiful but remote -little place. Very good, that was then the position I had taken up and -must defend. The porter licked his lips with anticipation of victory, -for he held another view. "_The_ train for Aberfoyle," he repeated -triumphantly. "Whatna train div ye mean?"--then severely as one exposing -a hasty assumption--"there's a train at 3.10, there's another at 3.60, -there's another at 6.30" (or some such hours). He challenged me to reply -or withdraw, and his voice was ringing with controversy. When I made an -abject surrender he was not satisfied, but pursued me and gained another -victory. "Very good," I said, "then what train should I take?" He was -now regarding me with something like contempt, an adversary whom it was -hardly worth fighting with. That depended on circumstances he did not -know and purposes which I had not told him. He could only pity me. "How -can I tell," he said, "what train ye should go by, ye can go by ony -train that suits ye, but yir luggage, being booked through, will travel -by the 3.10." During our conversation my portmanteau which I had placed -under his charge was twice removed from its barrow in the shifting of -the luggage, and as my friend watched its goings (without interfering) -he relaxed from his intellectual severity and allowed himself a jest -suitable to my capacity. "That's a lively portmanteau o' yours. I'm -judging that if ye set it on the road it would go Aberfoyle itsel'." -When we parted on a basis of free silver he still implied a reproach, -"so ye did conclude to go by the 3.10, but" (showing how poor were my -reasoning faculties even after I had used them) "ye would have been as -soon by the 3.50." For a sustained and satisfying bout of argument one -must visit a Scot in his home and have an evening to spare. Was it not -Carlyle's father who wrote to Tom that a man had come to the village -with a fine ability for argument, and that he only wished his son were -with them and then he would set Tom on one side of the table and this -man on the other place, and "a proposeetion" between them, and hear them -argue for the night? But one may get pleasant glimpses of the national -sport on railway journeys and by the roadside. A farmer came into the -carriage one summer afternoon, as I was travelling through Ayrshire, who -had been attending market and had evidently dined. He had attended to -the lighter affairs of life in the sale of stock and the buying of a -reaping machine, and now he was ready for the more serious business of -theological discussion. He examined me curiously but did not judge -me worthy, and after one or two remarks on the weather with which I -hastened to agree, he fell into a regretful silence as of one losing -his time. Next station a minister entered, and the moment my -fellow-passenger saw the white tie his eyes glistened, and in about -three minutes they were actively engaged, the farmer and the Minister, -discussing the doctrine of justification. The Minister, as in duty -bound, took the side of justification by faith, and the farmer, simply I -suppose to make debate and certainly with a noble disregard of personal -interests--for he had evidently dined--took the side of works. Perhaps -it may seem as if it was an unequal match between the Minister and the -farmer, since the one was a professional scholar and the other a -rustic amateur. But the difference was not so great as a stranger might -imagine, for if a minister be as it were a theological specialist every -man in Scotland is a general practitioner. And if the latter had his -own difficulties in pronouncing words he was always right in the text -he intended. They conducted their controversy with much ability till we -came to the farmer's station, and then he left still arguing, and with -my last glimpse of that admirable Scot he was steadying himself against -a post at the extremity of the platform, and this was his final -fling: "I grant ye Paul and the Romans, but I take my stand on James." -Wonderful country where the farmers, even after they have dined, take -to theology as a pastime. What could that man not have done before he -dined. - -In earlier days, the far back days of youth, I knew a rustic whose -square and thick-set figure was a picture of his sturdy and indomitable -mind. He was slow of speech and slow also of mind, but what he knew he -held with the grip of a vice and he would yield nothing in conversation. -If you said it was raining (when it might be pouring) he would reply -that it was showery. If you declared a field of com to be fine he said -that he had seen "waur" (worse), and if you praised a sermon he -granted that it wasna bad; and in referring to a minister distinguished -throughout the land for his saintliness he volunteered the judgment that -there was "naething positively veecious in him." Many a time did I try, -sometimes to browbeat him, and sometimes to beguile him into a positive -statement and to get him to take up a position from which he could -not withdraw. I was always beaten, and yet once I was within an ace of -success. We had bought a horse on the strength of a good character -from a dealer, and were learning the vanity of speech in all horse -transactions, for there was nothing that beast did not do of the things -no horse ought to do, and one morning after it had tried to get at James -with its hind legs, and then tried to bring him down with its fore legs, -had done its best to bite him, and also manoeuvred to crush him against -a wall, I hazarded the suggestion that our new purchase was a vicious -brute. He caught the note of assurance in my voice, and saw that he had -been trapped; he cast an almost pathetic look at me as if I was inviting -him to deny his national character and betray a historic part of -unbroken resistance. He hesitated and looked for a way of escape while -he skilfully warded off another attack, this time with the teeth, and -his face brightened. "Na!" he replied, "I'll no admit that the horse -is veecious, we maun hae more experience o' him afore we can pass sic a -judgment, but"--and now he just escaped a playful tap from the horse's -fore-leg--"I'm prepared to admit that this momin' he is a wee thingie -liteegious." And so victory was snatched from my hand, and I was again -worsted. - -If the endless arguing of the Scot be wearisome to strangers and one -would guess is a burden to himself, yet it has its advantages. It has -been a discipline for the Scots mind, and the endless disputations on -doctrine and kirks as well as more trifling matters like history and -politics has toughened the Scots brain and brought it to a fine edge. -When I hear a successful Scot speak lightly of the Shorter Catechism, -then I am amazed and tempted to despise him, for it was by that means -that he was sent forth so acute and enterprising a man, and any fortune -he has made he owes to its training. He has been trained to think and -to reason, to separate what is true from what is false, to use the -principles of speech and test the subtlest meaning of words, and -therefore, if he be in business, he is a banker by preference, because -that is the science of commerce, and if he be an artizan, he becomes an -engineer because that is the most skilful trade, and as a doctor he is -spread all over the world. Wherever hard thinking and a determined will -tell in the world's work this self-reliant and uncompromising man is -sure to succeed, and if his mind has not the geniality and flexibility -of the English, if it secretly hates the English principle of -compromise, and suspects the English standard of commonsense, if it be -too unbending and even unreasonably logical, this only proves that no -one nation, not even the Scots, can possess the whole earth. - - - - -XVIII.--UPON THE LECTURE PLATFORM - - -THERE are four places where a man may lecture, exclusive of the open -air, which is reserved for political demonstrations and religious -meetings, and I arrange the four in order of demerit. The worst is, -beyond question, a church, because ecclesiastical architects have no -regard for acoustics, and a lecturer is apt to crack his voice yelling -into the corners of churches. - -People come to a church, also, in a chastened mood, and sit as if they -were listening to a sermon, so that the unhappy lecturer receives little -encouragement of applause or laughter, and, if he happens to be himself -a clergyman, is hindered from doing anything to enliven the audience. -Besides, the minister of the church will feel it his duty to introduce -the leading members of his congregation after the lecture, and a -reception of this kind in the vestry is the last straw on a weary -lecturer's back. He cannot, however, refuse because he is a fellow -professional, and knows that his discourtesy may be set to the debit of -the minister. Next in badness is a public hall, because it is so bare -and cheerless, and on account of its size is difficult to fill with -an audience, and still more difficult with the voice. Drill halls, -especially, are heart-breaking places, because they are constructed -for the voices of commanding officers shouting "right wheel," "march," -"fire," and such like martial exhortations. - -There is also another objection to halls from the lecturer's standpoint, -and that is the accessibility of the platform. Usually there are two -sets of steps, which the audience consider have been constructed in -order that they may come on the platform in a body and shake hands with -the lecturer. If a lecturer be a human being, he is always glad to see -two or three of his fellow-creatures, especially if they say something -encouraging, but just because he is a human being and has spoken for an -hour and a half, he is apt to lose heart when he sees half of his large -audience, say seven hundred people, processing in his direction. - -It is on such an occasion that he is full of gratitude to a manager who -will come in with his travelling coat and march the lecturer out at -the back door, as a man in haste to catch his train or on any other -pretence. - -A lecturer may count himself fortunate, and need have no anxiety about -circumstances, who speaks from the stage of a theatre, because he will -have his whole audience within convenient compass, and focussed upon -him, and although he comes down to a whisper he will still be heard. -When you lecture at a theatre you are known as the "star," and as you -cross the dark and mysterious under-world behind the stage you hear some -one crying: "This way to the star's room," which generally turns out to -be the room of the leading actress, where you may spend a quarter of an -hour in seeing yourself in the innumerable mirrors, and examining the -long array of toilet instruments on the table. - -Theatrical people are most sympathetic and good-natured, and although -they may not have the faintest idea who you are or what you are going to -do, they always wish you well, and congratulate you if there is a good -house. Their own house may not have been good last night, but they are -glad if yours is good to-day. - -The crowning advantage of a theatre to a nervous and hard-wrought -lecturer is its seclusion. You get in and out by the stage door, and -there is not one person in a hundred of your audience could find that -door, and if he did he would not get admittance. From the floor to the -stage there is no way, and when you pass behind the curtain you are -beyond reach even of an interviewer. - -When I become an impresario I shall never allow my "star" to be seen, -except on the platform, and after he has done his work I will remove him -swiftly in a closed conveyance. In this way I shall lay him under a debt -of gratitude, and keep him in good humour, and get out of him a third -more work. As I have no idea of entering on this business at present, -I offer the hint to all impresarios everywhere, with my respectful -compliments. - -If a lecturer could always choose--which practically he never can do -at all--he would prefer to lecture to a club of men and women in their -club-room, or in the large drawing-room of a private house. He will then -address a limited number of bright people who are at their best; he can -talk as at a dinner-table and make his point easily; he can venture on -an aside, or stop to tell an anecdote, and after an hour or so he will -be as little fatigued as when he began. When the lecture is over he -mixes with his audience and in a minute is a private individual. This -is the very refinement and luxury of lecturing, which a lecturer enjoys -only on rare occasions. - -Local arrangements differ very much, and some of them are rather trying -to a lecturer. There are places where a regular procession is formed -and marches to the platform, headed by a local dignitary, and made up -of clergymen, magistrates, little millionaires, and public characters -of all kinds and degrees. In midst thereof the lecturer marches like a -criminal being taken to the scaffold. - -Once I discovered in the ante-room a magnificent embroidered robe, and -the insane idea took possession of my mind that it was intended for the -lecturer. Had it been put upon me there would have been no lecture, for -I should have been smothered with its greatness and its grandeur. I -was still regarding it with horror and perspiring freely when the chief -magistrate of the city came in, and it was put on his shoulders by two -liveried servants, who then decorated us all, from the chief magistrate -down to myself, with flowers. The servants marched first into the hall, -the great man followed, and I crept, following behind his majestic -figure (which was received with frantic howls of applause), and this was -the grandest entry I ever made upon the lecture platform. - -In some places there is a chairman--I shall have something to say -about chairmen--and votes of thanks, first to the lecturer, then to the -chairman and to other people who have had some connexion or other with -the matter, till a third of the time is taken up by local talk and the -lecturer is put to confusion. - -For votes of thanks I have personally an intense dislike, because the -movers refer to one in terms which might suitably apply to William -Shakespeare (one enthusiastic admirer preferred me to Shakespeare, -because, although he classed us together as occupying a solitary -position, I had the advantage of being more sentimental). As a lecturer -on Scots subjects I have a horror of other speakers, because they feel -it necessary to tell Scots stories without knowing the dialect, and -generally without knowing the story. - -Certain places are very business-like in their arrangements, and the -smartest in this respect is, curious to say, not in America, but in -England. You are brought to the place of operation five minutes before -the hour, and at two minutes to eight placed upon the platform. When the -hand of the clock points to eight you begin to speak, and when the hand -stands at nine you close. If you are one minute late in beginning, the -audience grows restless, and if you are five minutes late in closing, -they leave. There are no preliminaries and no after-talk, and you do -your best with one of the most intelligent audiences any lecturer could -address in sixty minutes. - -The most risky audience in my experience is afforded by the free -lectures given in an English city, which is made up by men who have -dropped in from the streets because the hall is open and because -something is going on. If they are interested they will listen eagerly -and reward the lecturer with enthusiastic applause, besides giving an -irrelevant cheer occasionally for Old Ireland or Lord Roberts. If the -audience is not interested they leave in solid blocks of fifty, without -any regard to the lecturer's feelings, or the disturbance of their -neighbours. - -The most sympathetic and encouraging audience a man can have are the -students of an American ladies' college, because if he is nervous, as -an Englishman is bound to be before three hundred bright American young -women, they will catch his first point, and they will smile upon him and -show that they believe there is something in him if he could only get it -out, and create such a kindly atmosphere that he will rise to his height -and do his best. - -This was how the students of a delightful college not very far from -Philadelphia treated myself when I was almost ready to sink through -the floor from sheer terror of facing so many young women, being a -sisterless and daughterless man, and I wish to thank one young lady who -sat in the front and smiled encouragement upon me until I lifted up my -head and took heart. - -I have never utterly collapsed, and have never fled from the platform, -but I was reduced to confusion and incoherence of speech when I opened -a clubhouse for a company of women students at a certain American -University, and my whole audience suddenly flopped down upon the floor -as I began my little speech. As the floor had a beautiful carpet and -there were no chairs, the young ladies no doubt did well for themselves, -but as I looked down upon that fair flower-garden all my thoughts -vanished, and I do not think that I uttered a grammatical sentence. - -American young women do not know that an Englishman is the most bashful -creature on the face of the earth, and that he would rather face an -audience of two thousand men from the streets than address twenty young -women, every one as sharp as a needle and as pretty as a flower. - -My experience of chairmen is wide and varied, and I have lectured under -the Presidency of some very distinguished and able men, but on the whole -I would rather be without a chairman. There was one who introduced me in -a single sentence of five minutes' length, in which he stated that as he -would treasure every word I said more than pure gold he did not wish to -curtail my time by a single minute. He then fell fast asleep, and I had -the honour of wakening him at the close of the lecture. Had he slept -anywhere else I should not have had the smallest objection, but his -restful attitude in the high estate of the chair had an unedifying and -discomposing effect on the audience. - -On the whole, I preferred that chairman to another who introduced me to -the extent of twenty-five minutes, and occupied the time in commending -to the exasperated audience the claims of a foundling asylum with which -he had some charitable connexion. This time it was the lecturer who fell -asleep and had to be wakened when the audience drove the chairman to his -seat. - -A lecturer is also much refreshed amid his labour by the assurance of -the chairman that he has simply lived upon his books for years, and has -been looking forward to this evening for the last three months with high -expectation, when after these flattering remarks he does not know -your name, and can only put it before the audience after a hurried -consultation with the secretary of the lecture course. - -My memory returns also with delight to a chairman who insisted that one -object had brought them together, and that I was no stranger in that -town because the whole audience before him were my friends, and then -having called me Doctor Maclaren and Ian Watson, besides having hinted -more than once at Mr. Barrie, introduced me to an uproarious audience as -Mr. Ian John Maclaren Watson. - -It is, of course, my gain, and the loss of two more distinguished -fellow-countrymen, that I should be hopelessly associated in the minds -of many people with Mr. Crockett and Mr. Barrie. But when one speaker -declared that I would be remembered by grateful posterity as the Stickit -Minister, I was inclined to protest, for whatever have been my defects -as a preacher, I still have succeeded in obtaining a church; and when -another speaker explained he had gone three times to see my "Little -Minister," I felt obliged to deny myself the authorship of that -delightful play. - -Allusions on the part of the audience, when they shook hands with me -afterwards, I allowed to paas because there was not time to put things -right; merely smiling at the mention of "A Window in Thrums," and -looking modest at the adjectives heaped upon "The Raiders." My cynical -humour was greatly tickled with the chairman, who had been very cordial -with me in private, and who was understood by the public to have been -closely identified with my visit to his city, when he not only escaped -from the stage after he had introduced me, but also immediately left the -theatre and cheerfully betook himself to his office without hearing one -word of the lecture. Perhaps he had discovered from some casual remark -of mine that I was not Mr. Barrie, and was at a loss to make out who I -could be. - -With mayors and other public functionaries who have to speak six times a -day on six different subjects, and who get a little confused as to which -meeting they are attending, I have the utmost sympathy, and never have -been discomposed by any reference to the management of hospitals or -the fallacy of bimetallism, even though the references were very -indifferently connected with the lecturer and his subjects. - -The labour of shaking hands afterwards with a considerable proportion -of your audience is not only lightened by their kindness, but also much -cheered by their conversation. After a few evenings in the United States -I arrived at the rooted conviction that the majority of the American -people belonged to the Scots race, and that America was the real -Scotland. It was not only that native-born Scots came forward to welcome -a fellow-countryman with an accent which was beyond all dispute and -could be heard six yards off, and with allusions to Auchterarder which -warmed your heart, but that every person seemed to be connected with -Scotland. - -One belonged to a family which had emigrated from Scotland in the -seventeenth century, and was anxious to know whether I could give him -any information on the family tree. Another had married a Scots wife, -and believed he owed his prosperity to her; a third was an admirer -of Sir Walter Scott, and looked forward to visiting Scotland as the -ambition of his life. And one lady, full of despair as she heard the -Scots claims of the people around her, came and confessed frankly: "I am -not Scots, and I have no relative a Scot, and none of our family married -a Scot, but my sister has a Scots nurse: will that do?" I assured her it -would, and that I was glad at last to meet a genuine American, because I -had come to see the American people. - -I have a vivid recollection of one place where a clan had turned out -to receive me, and I was escorted to the platform by a band of plaided -warriors, who, headed by a piper, marched me in and ranged themselves -round me on the platform. When the lecture was over, one clansman met me -in the anteroom, and I hardly recognized him; he was about three inches -taller and six inches bigger round the chest than before the lecture, -and was as a man intoxicated, though not with strong drink. - -"Mr. Maclaren," he said to me, "eh, but we are a michty people," and he -slapped his chest vigorously. I hinted that we had one or two faults to -modify our perfection, but he was not in a mood for such consideration. -"No worth mentioning," he said, and departed in glory. The national -prayer of our people is understood to be: "Lord, give us a good -conceit of ourselves," and this prayer in my compatriot's case had been -wonderfully fulfilled. - -Audiences vary very much in excellence, and it is difficult to -understand the reason, because you may have the most delightful and -the most difficult from the same class of people. Audiences are like -horses--some of them so hard in the mouth and spiritless that they -almost pull your arm out of the socket, and others so bright and -high-spirited that you hardly feel the reins in your hands, and -driving--that is to say, speaking--is a delight. - -The ideal audience is not one which accompanies you from beginning -to end with applause and laughter, but one that takes every point and -enjoys it with intelligent reserve, so that your illustrations may be -condensed into allusions, and a word conveys your humour. One of my -pleasures as a lecturer was to test every audience by a certain passage -which divided the sheep from the goats, and I think my enjoyment was -even greater when they were all goats. - -It came into a reading from the _Briar-Bush_ where the word -"intoxication" occurs. My custom was to stop and apologise for the -appearance of such a word in my book, and to explain that the word is -not known in Scots speech. There are, I used to say, two reasons why a -Scotsman does not employ the word. The first is that he is imperfectly -acquainted with the painful circumstances to which this word is supposed -to allude, and the second that a Scotsman considers that no one with -a limited human intellect can know enough about the conditions of his -fellow-creatures to make such a statement. - -When an audience took in the situation at once, then one could rest -for a moment, since they required that time to appreciate the rigid -temperance and conscientious literary accuracy of the Scotch people. -When they took the statement in perfect seriousness, and one or two -solemn reformers nodded their heads in high approval, then I wanted to -go behind the curtain and shake hands with myself. More than once it was -with difficulty I could continue in face of this unbroken seriousness, -and once I broke down utterly, although I hope the audience only -supposed I was laughing at some poor humour of my own. - -The cause of my collapse was not the faces of the audience, but the -conduct of a brother Scot, whose head went down below the seat as -he learned the two reasons why the word intoxicated is not used in -Scotland. When he emerged from the depths he cast a glance of delight in -my direction as to one who was true in all circumstances of his nation, -and then he was composing himself to listen with fresh confidence to a -lecturer who had given such pledges of patriotism, when he caught sight -of the faces of the audience. - -As it dawned upon him that the audience had taken the statement -literally, he was again obliged to go into retirement. Twice he made a -brave effort to regain possession of himself, but as often the sight of -the audience shook him to his foundation. At last he rose and left the -theatre, but at the door he lingered to take one look at the unconscious -audience, and then shaking his head in my direction with patriotic joy, -he departed from the building, and I was obliged to imagine an execution -in order to continue my lecture. - -The lecturer's nerves ought to be made of wire, for he never knows what -may happen. There is one town in the United States where the -express trains run down the main street, and you lecture there to an -accompaniment of engine bells and the blowing-off of steam. When the -music rises too high for the human voice, the lecturer in that town -ought to abandon the contest and offer between the whistles a few -remarks on the legislative power of American railways. These remarks -will be vastly enjoyed by the audience. - -Behind the platform of one large hall is the lift of the next building, -which is used at regular intervals of a minute, and you have your -sentences punctuated by the whoop of the unseen lift till at last you -can calculate the time and know that you have spoken ninety whoops, and -it is nearly time to stop. - -One night I was arrested by the sound of steady snoring which could be -heard over the larger part of the theatre, but although every one was -in search for the offender, he could not be found. At last the sound -was traced to the stage, and, as there was no one on the stage except -myself, to be behind the curtain. One of the servants of the theatre -had laid himself down there in order to enjoy the lecture, and that -had proved of such a solid character that he had fallen into a fit of -meditation, from which he was very rudely awakened. - -One evening in a Canadian town a fox terrier came in, and owing to some -difference of opinion with a gentleman in the stalls, expressed himself -in public. As there was to be a dog story in the lecture, I thought it -well to explain that the terrier had been engaged to take part, but had -broken in too soon. For a while the dog behaved with much propriety, and -then there was a second outbreak. - -Six gentlemen combined to get that dog out of the theatre, but not -without difficulty and danger. The terrier retired fighting. - -The platform does many good things for a lecturer; for one thing, it -strengthens his voice; it brings him into contact with large bodies of -his fellow-men, and it inspires him with humanity. Upon the platform -he learns to command himself; to take disappointments like a man; and, -above all, he gains a new conviction of the kindness and goodwill of -large bodies of people whom he has never seen before and may never see -again, and of whom he will ever think with a grateful heart. - - - - -XIX.--FOR THE SAKE OF A HORSE - - -IN the days of long ago I used to live in the summer-time upon a farm in -one of the rich plains of Scotland, where the soil was deep and we could -grow everything, from the fragrant red clover to the strong, upstanding -wheat. One reason why our farm bore such abundant crops was its -situation; for it lay, in the shape of the letter V, between two rivers -which met upon our ground. One of the rivers was broad and shallow, and -its clear water ran over gravel, brawling and fretting when it came upon -a large stone, and making here and there a pleasant little fall. This -river in the winter-time could rise high and run with a strong current, -and there were days and sometimes weeks when we could not send our men -and horses across its ford. We never hated this river, because, although -it could be angry and proud when the snow was melting on the distant -hill or a big thunder-cloud burst in the glens above us, it was never -treacherous and sullen; it had no unexpected depths into which a man and -horse might fall, but was open as the day, and its water was as bright. -Wherefore I have kindly thoughts of that stream, and when the sun is hot -in the city, and there is no unused air to breathe, I wish I were again -upon its banks and could see it gleaming underneath the bushes as it -sings its way past my feet. - -The other river was narrow, and ran in silence between its banks; or -rather it did not run, but trailed itself along like a serpent, deep, -black, and smooth. There was no end to its wicked cunning, for it -pretended to be only three feet deep and it was twelve, and sometimes it -hollowed out to itself a hole where a twenty-foot line would not touch -the bottom. One of its worst tricks was to undermine the bank so that -the green turf on which you stood became a trap, and, yielding beneath -your feet, unless you were very dexterous, shot you into the river. Then -unless you could swim, the river would drown you in its black water as -if with fiendish delight. - -Over this river, also, we required to have a ford; but in this case it -was not natural, for the bottom of this river was far below the surface -of the water, and it was soft, deep clay. Across the river, therefore, -the ford had to be built up with stones; and it was made in the shape -of a horseshoe, so that any one crossing must follow a rough half-circle -from bank to bank, and he had to keep to the line of the ford, for below -it the water poured into a depth of thirty feet. When the river was low -one could easily trace the ford, and there was no excuse for getting -into danger; but if the river had been fed by the upland rains, then -every sign of the ford was lost, and a man had to be very careful how -he picked his horse's way. And all the time the wicked water would be -bringing its weight to bear on him, in the hope of carrying him and his -horse and everything else that was with him over the edge. - -This river we loathed, and at the thought of its wickedness and its -tragedies--for twice I nearly lost my life in it--I still shudder, here -in my study. - -One afternoon I went down to the ford in order to warn a plowman that -he must not cross. That morning he had taken a load of grain to the -railway-, station, and now he was coming back with the empty cart and -two horses. During the day there had been rain upon the mountains, and -the river was swollen so that every sign of the ford was lost. - -I stood high up upon the bank, and when he came down the road on -the other side I shouted across the river--which was rising every -minute--that he must not on any account attempt it, but must turn back -and go round by the bridge. Of course he ought to have obeyed this -order, and I am not going to say that he was wise in what he did; but -safety would mean a dtour of ten miles, and he knew not fear. It was -from his breed that our Highland regiment got their recruits and more -than one of our men had gone into the "Black Watch." - -"I'll risk it," he cried from the other side; and he made his -preparations for the daring enterprise, while I, on my side, could say -and do nothing more. All that remained for me was to watch, and, if it -were possible, in case of things coming to the worst, to give such help -as I could from the bank. - -It was a heavy two-wheeled cart he had, with one horse in the shafts and -another before, tandem-wise, and this kind of team could not be driven -from the cart. The driver must walk, holding the reins of the tandem -horse in his right hand, and, if necessary, guiding the horse in the -shafts with his left; and so they entered the stream. - -After the horses had gone a few yards into the water they wished to -stop; for they had an instinct of danger, all the more because they -were not free, but were strapped and chained, so that it would be almost -impossible for them to save their lives by swimming. Jock chided and -encouraged them, calling them by name, and they went in without any -more hesitation; for horses are full of faith, and trust their driver -absolutely if they know his voice and love him. Each of our men had a -pair of horses under his charge; and so close was the tie between the -men and their horses that the pair would come to their driver in the -field when he called them by name, and would allow another plowman to -handle them only under protest. - -Very carefully did Jock guide his team round the farther bend of the -horseshoe, but when they reached the middle of the stream the water -reached his waist and was lapping round his chest. Of course he could -not have stood had it not been that he was on the upper side, and had -the support of the shaft, to which he clung, still holding the reins of -the foremost horse and the bridle of the other. - -"Take care, Jock! for any sake, take care, man!" I yelled from my bank. -It was poor advice, but one had to say something as he looked on the -man and the horses, more than half covered by the stream, so lonely and -helpless. "You are at the turn now"; for we knew that the bend of the -shoe was at the middle of the stream. - -"It's a' richt," came back the brave, honest voice. "We'll win through"; -and now Jock turned the leader's head up-stream, and the cart began -to move round on the nearer turn of the horseshoe. Yes, they would win -through, for surely the worst was past, and I jumped upon the bank for -very joy, but ever watched the slightest movement, while every inch -seemed a mile and every moment an hour. - -Alas! there was no end to the deceit and wickedness of that river; for, -owing to some slight bend at a little distance higher up on the opposite -bank, the current ran with its main strength, not in the middle of the -channel, but toward the place where I was standing, and into a black -deep just at my feet. It beat upon the cart, and as I looked I could see -the cart begin to yield, and to be carried sidewise off the track of the -ford. I shouted--I know not what now; I think the plowman's name--but -Jock already had felt himself going with the cart as it turned round. He -called upon his horses: "Pull up, Star! Steady, lass!"--this to the mare -in his hand. - -The intelligent creatures answered to his voice and made a valiant -effort, Star plunging forward, and the mare--a wise old beast--straining -herself to recover the cart. For an instant the cart's further wheel was -pulled on to the track, and I saw the cart once more level in the water; -and again I shouted, calling both man and horses by their names. Then -the river, afraid that she was to be spoiled of her prey, put out all -her strength. The cart yields and sinks on the lower side and begins to -turn over. It is off the ford now, and will pull the horses after it, -and all that can be done is for Jock to let go the horses, who are now -struggling in desperation, and to save his own life. He could swim, and -was a powerful man, forty inches and more round the chest, and a fellow, -if you please, to toss the hammer on a summer evening. - -"For God's sake, let go the horses, Jock, and make for the bank!" And -I went to the edge where he was likely to come, and lying down upon my -chest, I twisted one arm round a sturdy bush, and was ready with the -other hand to catch Jock if he should be fighting his way through the -current and come within reach of shore. - -By this time the horse in the shaft was fighting on the edge of the -abyss, and only the top of one side-board of the cart could be seen, and -the upper shaft, which was standing straight out of the water. Star was -screaming with terror--and a horse's scream is a fearful sound--for if -only he could be free of the two chains that fastened him to the shaft, -he, a powerful young horse, would soon reach safety where the road came -out from the ford through the banks, up the slope, to dry land. And -Jock, forgetful of himself, was determined to give Star his chance -for life--Star, whom he had broken in as a colt, and taught to take an -oatmeal cake out of his pocket, of whom he boasted in the markets, and -for whom he had bought little brass ornaments to wear on his forehead -and chest. The mare was beyond redemption, and must perish with the -cart; she was old, and had done her work. But Star must not be drowned. -Already he has loosened the near chain and on one side Star is free, -and now, in the midst of that wild hurly-burly of plunging horses, Jock, -holding on to the projecting shaft with one hand, is reaching with the -other underneath the neck of the mare, to free the other chain from the -farther shaft. - -He succeeded, as I took it, at the very last moment; for Star, now on -the brink, made a desperate effort, and, shaking himself free of all -entanglement, swam into the quieter water, just above where I had hoped -to meet his driver. - -In another minute Star was standing on the road, shaking in every limb, -and hanging his head between his fore legs, with all the strength and -bravery taken out of him. - -Before he reached the bank, the cart and the mare, and poor Jock with -them, had been swept over the edge of the unseen ford into the deep -water below. Had Jock been free of the cart and horse he might have made -some fight for his life, even in that caldron; but, from the marks upon -his body, we judged that he had been struck, just when he loosed the -chain, by the iron hoofs of the mare in her agony, and had been rendered -unconscious. - -Within a second, horse and cart and man had disappeared, and the cruel -river had triumphed and was satisfied. - -Three days afterward we rescued his body from her grasp; and when we -carried it up to the bothy where he and his mates had lived together, -the roughest of them felt that this man had been a hero. - -No doubt he ought not to have dared so much; but having dared, he did -not flinch. His duty was that of every driver--to stick to the last by -his horses--and he did it to the uttermost. - -He was a rough man, Jock, who never read anything except the stories in -the weekly newspaper which used to circulate in the bothies. There were -times when Jock took a glass too much on a fair-day at Muirtown, and -then he was inclined to fight. His language, also, was not suited for -polite society, and his temper was not always under perfect control. - -Let me say it plainly: Jock was nothing but a Scots plowman, and all he -did that day was to save the life, not of a child or of a man, but of -a cart-horse worth about 50. It was, however, his bit of duty as Jock -understood it; all he had to give was his life, and he gave it without -hesitation and without fear. - - - - -XX.--NO RELEVANT OBJECTION - - -NEXT to the election of a minister nothing stirred the parish of -Thomgreen like an election of elders, and it may be truthfully said that -the people were far more concerned about the men whom they appointed to -this sacred office than about the man whom they sent to represent them -in Parliament. The people had also a keen sense of the kind of man who -was fit to be an elder, and there was many a farmer whom they would -have cheerfully elected to any board, and in whose hands they would have -trusted any amount of money, but whom they would never have dreamt of -making an elder. Persons who were by no means careful about their own -life, and one would not have supposed had any great concern about the -character of the officers of the Christian Church, had yet a fixed idea, -and a very sound one, about the qualifications for an elder; and if -one of themselves had been proposed would have regarded the idea as -an insult, not to them but to the Church. "Me an elder," he would have -said; "for ony sake be quiet; there maun be nae jokin' on sich subjects. -When you and me are made elders the kirk had better be closed." For -the word elder was synonymous in Thorngreen, and, indeed, in every -right-thinking parish, not only with morality and integrity, but with -gravity and spirituality. - -No parish could expect to have many men who filled the conditions, and -Thorngreen had a standing grievance that one man who was evidently an -elder by arrangement of providence would not accept the office. Andrew -Harris, of Rochally, as he was commonly called, after the name of his -farm, was of ancient Thorngreen blood, since his forbears had worked -land in the parish for many generations, and he himself had succeeded -his father, who was also an elder for thirty years. There was no sounder -farmer than Rochally, and what he had done by draining, limeing, and -skilful seeding was known unto all men; no straighter man in a bargain, -for the character of a young horse from Rochally was better than a -written document; no friendlier man in the kirkyard on a Sunday or at -Muirtown markets, and no more regular and attentive hearer in kirk. -Beyond all that, the parish knew, although it never said such things, -that Rochally was a religious man, who not only had worship in his -house, with his men servants and his women servants present, but also -worshipped God in all Christian living from year to year. He was also a -man of substance, and if that could be got with other things, the parish -preferred it in an elder, and he gave liberally to the Free Kirk, of -which, indeed, he was the mainstay. If he was not married, and was never -likely now to marry, it could not be helped, but there was nothing else -wanting to make him the perfect model of an elder. - -As regularly as there was a meeting for the election of elders, which -happened about every five years, the name of Mr. Andrew Harris, farmer -of Rochally, was proposed and seconded, and about to be placed on the -nomination form, when Rochally himself rose, and quietly but very firmly -requested that his name be dropped, "for reasons which are sufficient -to my own conscience." And although three ministers in succession, and a -generation of elders, had pleaded privately with Rochally, and had used -every kind of argument, they could not move him from his position. His -nomination was felt on each occasion to be a debt due to his character -and to the spiritual judgment of the congregation; but the people had -long ago despaired of his consent. Had they consulted his wishes they -would never have mentioned his name; but, at any rate, he made a point -of attending, and at once withdrawing. They were obstinate, and he was -obstinate, and the event had become a custom at the election of elders -in the Free Kirk. - -No one could even guess why Rochally refused office, and every one in -the Free Kirk was a little sore that the best and most respected member -on their roll should sit in his back seat Sunday after Sunday, and -attend every week meeting, and give the largest subscriptions, and also -gamer the utmost respect from without, and yet not be an elder. It was -also felt that if his name could only be printed on the nomination paper -and placed before the people, and the people unanimously elected him, -as they would do, then it would be hard for him to refuse, and if he did -refuse he would have to do what he had not done yet--give his reasons. -If they could only hold the meeting without his being present, or if, -by any innocent ruse, he could be kept from the meeting, then half the -battle would be won; and that is how it came to pass that the minister -and elders of Thomgreen Free Kirk stole a march upon Rochally. They had -been thinking for some time of adding to the eldership, for Essendy, the -father of the Session, had "won awa'" at eighty-seven, and Wester Mains -could only sit on sunny days in the garden; and while they were turning -the matter over in their minds--for nothing was done hurriedly in -Thomgreen--it spread abroad that Rochally was going away for the -unprecedented period of four weeks, partly to visit a sister's son who -had risen to high position in England, and partly to try some baths for -the mild rheumatism which was his only illness. It seemed a providential -arrangement, and one which they must use wisely, and if anything could -have been read on the severe countenances of Thomgreen, Rochally might -have guessed that some conspiracy was afoot when he bade his brethren -good-bye after Kirk one Sabbath. - -As soon as it was known that he had fairly departed, and as it was -perfectly certain there could be no communication with him from his -home except a weekly report of the briefest and most prosaic kind by the -foreman, the Session (that is, the Court of Elders) was called together, -and on two successive Sundays the people were summoned to a meeting for -the nomination of elders. It was held on the Monday following the second -Sunday, and was attended by almost the whole congregation. Six names -were proposed for three vacancies, but, of course, the climax of the -proceedings was the nomination of Mr. Andrew Harris, farmer at Rochally, -and the insertion of his name on the paper of nomination. The nomination -papers were given out on the following Sunday, and on the fourth and -last Sunday of Rochally's absence were returned into the hands of the -Session. Before he came home the Session had met, and as every single -communicant, without exception, had voted for Mr. Andrew Harris, farmer -at Rochally, the Session declared him elected, and when he sat in his -pew on the following Sunday he heard the edict for the ordination of -three elders on that day fortnight, and the first name was his own. - -It was creditable to the good manners of the people that though they -held their breath at the critical moment, none of them looked even -sideways to the pew where Rochally sat alone; but the minister's eye -fell on him from the pulpit, and as he noticed Rochally start and flush, -and grow pale, while a look of pain came over his face, the minister -became anxious, and began to regret their well-intentioned plot. -And when, according to the custom of the kirk, he announced that the -aforesaid persons would be ordained this day fortnight, unless "some -valid objection to their life and doctrine be stated to the Kirk Session -at a meeting to be held for that purpose before the service on Wednesday -evening," and when, even at that distance, he could see Rochally's hand -tighten upon the door of his pew and his head fall forward upon his -breast for an instant, as if he were in pain, he almost wished that they -had not meddled with the secret affairs of a man's life. The minister -was not surprised when Rochally did not call at the manse on Monday or -Tuesday to say that he could not accept the election, although that was -within his power, and he was not surprised, although much grieved, when -he saw Rochally standing in the shadow of the trees not far from the -vestry where the Kirk Session met. Although he had not the faintest idea -of the reason, he was now afraid of what was going to happen, and the -elders, as they came in one by one, having passed Rochally, who stood -apart among the trees, and gave no sign of recognition, were uneasy, -and had a sense of calamity. They knew nothing either, and were not able -even to imagine anything; but they also, having seen Rochally and caught -a faint glimpse of his face, would fain have burned the nomination -papers, and cancelled the whole election. - -The court was opened with prayer, in which the minister was very earnest -that they should be all guided by the Spirit of God and know His will. -And then the minutes were read, wherein the names of those elected were -mentioned, after which the minister declared the time had arrived for -receiving objections to the life and doctrine of the aforesaid persons, -and the beadle, being summoned from the dark kirk where he had been -sitting, was commanded to do his duty. Thereupon, having opened the -outer door of the vestry, as being a public place, he looked into the -darkness, and called upon any persons who could make valid objection -to the life or doctrine of Andrew Harris, farmer at Rochally, that he -should not be ordained an elder, to come forward and declare the same. -Many a time had the beadle made this challenge, and never before had it -been answered, but now, out from the darkness, came Rochally himself, -and entered the vestry. For a moment he was dazzled by the light of the -lamp, though it was never very bright, and as he stood before the -Session he passed his hand over his face. Then he stepped forward to the -table, and, leaning heavily on it with one hand, Rochally unveiled his -secret. - -"Moderator and Elders of the Kirk, I stand here in answer to your -commandment, and in obedience to my own conscience, to give you strong -reasons why Andrew Harris should never be ordained an elder in Christ's -Kirk, and why he is not worthy even to take the sacrament. - -"I ken well that my brethren have often wondered why I wouldna allow -my name to be mentioned for the eldership, and I have often feared that -they judged me as one who despised the call of the kirk, and wouldna put -his hand to the plough. If they did so, they were wrang, for God knows -how I have honoured and loved the Church, and He knows how glad and -proud a man I would have been to carry the vessels of the Lord. But I -dauma, I dauma. - -"It micht have been better if I had told the reason years ago, and saved -mysel' and the brethren much trouble; but it is hard for the Scots heart -to open itsel', and a man is jealous of his secret.' Maybe I sinned in -not confessing to the kirk in this place as I did elsewhere, and as I -confessed to my God. Gin it be so, I have suffered, and now the Lord's -hand is heavy upon me. - -"Lang years ago," and the strong man trembled, but no elder so much as -lifted his eyes, "I lived for a year, although none here will mind of -it, in another parish, where my father had a farm, and there, when I was -a young man, though no one here knows of it, being careless in my walk -and conversation, and resisting the Grace of God, I fell, and sinned -against the law of Moses and of Christ. - -"What the sin was it matters not now; but it was a great sin, such as -nothing but the blude o' Christ can cleanse away, and the guilt of it -was heavy upon my soul. God was merciful unto me, and His Spirit -moved me to that repentance which needeth not to be repented of. -Sic reparation as I could make I made, and them that were injured I -satisfied; but I have never been satisfied. They're all dead now that -had to do with it, long before they died they had forgotten it; but I -have never forgotten it, and the long years have never wiped it from my -memory. - -"There's ae man I envy every day, and mair the nicht than ever; no the -man who is rich and powerful, na, na, it is the man whose life is clean -and white fra his boyhood until this hour, who can turn over the pages -and let every man look on. One chapter o' my life I read alone every -day, and it canna be blotted out from before my eyes. Their hands maun -be dean which bear the vessels of the Lord, and my hands arena clean; -wherefore I take objection, being a true witness against the life of -Andrew Harris, and declare he is not fit to be an elder of the kirk." - -While Rochally was still standing, the minister knelt down, and the -elders with him; but Rochally stood, and the minister began to pray. -First of all, he confessed the sins of their youth and of later years -till every man's soul lay bare before his own eyes and the eyes of God, -then he carried them all, their lives and their sins, unto the Cross of -Calvary, and magnified before God the sacrifice for sin and the dying -love of the Saviour, and then he lifted up their souls in supplication -unto God upon His Throne, and besought the Judge of all, for Christ's -sake, to cast their transgressions behind His back and into the depths -of the sea; and, finally, he besought God to grant unto them all the -assurance of His mercy and the peace which passeth all understanding to -possess their hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. But he made no mention -of Rochally or Rochally's sin, so that one would have supposed it was -the minister and the elders, and not Andrew Harris, who were at the Bar. - -When they rose from their knees more than one elder was weeping, and -every man's face was white and serious, and still Rochally stood as if -he desired to go, but was not able till the minister gave the decision -of the court. The Spirit of the Holy Ministry, which is the most awful -office upon earth, and the most solemn, descended in special measure -upon the minister, a man still young and inexperienced, but who was now -coming out from the holy place of the Most High. - -"Andrew Harris, I ask you, in the name of the Kirk whom the Lord loved -and washed from her sins in His own blood, lovest thou the Lord Jesus -Christ?" Then the minister and the elders faded from before Rochally's -eyes, and the faithful, honest man who had sinned so long ago, and wept -so bitterly, stood face to face with the Master. - -"Lord," said he, for the first time lifting up his head, "Thou knowest -all things; Thou knowest that I love Thee." - -It was after midnight when the minister wrote out the minute of that -meeting, and it states that an objection was taken to the life of Andrew -Harris; but the Session ruled that it was not relevant, in which ruling -the objector acquiesced, and the Session therefore appointed that Andrew -Harris, farmer at Rochally, be ordained on the day appointed to the -office of elder in the Free Kirk of Thomgreen. - - - - -XXI.--WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN - -WHEN Carmichael was Free Kirk minister of Dramtochty, and in the days of -his youth, he had casual ways, and went at his own free will. He never -came across the moor behind his manse on a summer day, and entered -the cool pine wood which separated it from the ploughed land, without -sitting down beside a certain pool of a burn which ran through the -fringe of the wood. Because the water broke over a little rock and then -gathered in a cup of gravel, and there was a heather bank where he could -he as comfortably as in his favourite study chair, which had seen the -Rebellion, but had changed its covering as well as its creed more than -once since then; because the Highland cattle came to drink at that pool -if you were not fussy and suspicious; and because all the sounds of the -moor--the bleating of the sheep, the cry of the grouse, and the wail -of the whaup and the drone of the bees--mingled in one music, and fell -pleasantly upon your ear. "For five minutes only," he said to himself, -and then some Highland cows, with their absurd little calves, arrived, -and would have considered it ill-mannered for him to rise; and he fell -a-thinking while time flew. He rose with a start and hurried down to -the main road, and made for the bridge over the Tochty, fearful lest he -should be too late when the messenger came with momentous tidings from -the telegraph office at Kildrummie. - -For two years the Glen had been in the most delightful state of -intellectual ferment, and it was freely said by those who could remember -that conversation had not risen to such a high level for fifty years, -not even during '43. It goes without saying that the subject which -exercised the minds and tongues of the Glen had to do, not with markets, -but with Kirks; and while many had feared that the golden age of the -Disruption would never be repeated in Drumtochty, when children were -taught the doctrine of spiritual independence as they were supping their -porridge, and women spoke freely about the principle of "Coordinate -Jurisdiction with Mutual Subordination" as they hoed turnips in the -fields, even Jamie Soutar was compelled to allow that the present -debate had points of excellence altogether its own. While the spirit of -disruption had wonderfully sharpened the edge of the intellect, the new -spirit of concord which was abroad had still more powerfully quickened -the feelings of the heart. By the fireside, where the guidwife darned -the stockings and the guidman read the _Muirtown Advertiser_ from the -first word of the advertisements to the last word of the printer's name, -out at work where they were planting potatoes or reaping the com, on -the way to market as they walked down to Kildrummie station on Friday -morning or crammed themselves by fives and sixes into Hillocks' -dog-cart, but most of all in the kirkyard or at the Free Kirk door, -men and women had been discussing with unswerving honesty and amazing -subtlety, but with great goodwill and eager longing, how the differences -between the Free Kirk and the Established could be reconciled, and upon -what terms of honour and self-respect they could be united so that there -should be again one Kirk in Scotland, as in the former days. According -to the light which Providence had been pleased to give to other -parishes, which was as twilight to the sunlight of Drum-tochty, they -also argued this great affair, till even Kildrummie had pronounced ideas -on the subject; and Rabbi Saunderson, the minister of Kilbogie, had -announced a course of twenty-five sermons on the "Principle of Unity -in the Christian Church, considered biblically, theologically, -historically, and experimentally." The ecclesiastics on both sides had -not regarded the movement with conspicuous favour, and, while stating -that the end in view was not only admirable but one they had always -desired, they felt it their duty to point out difficulties. They -mentioned so many, indeed, and expounded them so faithfully, that it -would not have been wonderful if the people had lost heart and abandoned -a hopeless enterprise; for as a rule it had been the ecclesiastics who -spoke and the people who kept silence; the ecclesiastics who passed -measures and the people who paid for them. This time, however, the -younger ministers had taken the matter into their own hands, and refused -to serve themselves heirs to past controversies or to bind themselves to -perpetuate ancient divisions; they were men of another age, and intended -to face the new situation. There had been enough dividing in Scotland -since the days of the Covenanters; it was time there should be some -uniting, and when they were at it they wanted thorough-going and final -union. And the people, who in every country parish had, Sabbath after -Sabbath for more than a generation, passed one another in opposite -directions going to their kirks, began to inquire why they should not -all go in one direction and meet under one roof as their fathers had -done; and when people began to ask that question, both with their heads -and with their hearts, it was bound to be answered in one way. - -The ecclesiastics had yielded under pressure, and as Carmichael went -down to the bridge he recalled, with a keen sense of humour, their -marvellous proceedings and the masterly game which had been played by -the diplomatists of the Kirks, their suave expressions of brotherly -love, their shrewd foresight of every move, their sleepless watchfulness -of one another, their adroit concessions which yielded nothing, their -childlike proposals which would have gained everything, and their -cheerful acquiescence in every delay. But the temper of the people was -not to be trifled with, and if the young party among the clergy were not -skilled in the wiles of Church Courts, they had considerable vigour of -speech, and the managers of affairs were given to understand that they -must bring things quickly to a head. Early last spring the leader of -the Free Kirk had submitted his terms, which the Established Kirk men -studied together for three days and then read in seven different ways, -and they in turn submitted their proposals, which were so simple and -direct that the great Free Kirk man was genuinely disappointed, and -wished that it had been his lot to negotiate with a Roman cardinal. But -the people were getting impatient, and when the Assemblies met in the -end of May, the pleasant spring-time, the terms had been adjusted, and -Carmichael ran over them as he came down the near road through Hillocks' -farm and pronounced them good. That the Free Church and the Established -should unite together; that its legal title should be the Church of -Scotland; that it should retain the ancient endowments and all -the accumulated funds of both the former Churches; that the -newly-constituted Church of Scotland should cease its legal connexion -with the State, but maintain the old parochial system; that the new -Church should re-arrange its resources so as to meet every religious and -moral want in Scotland, and work with the State for the well-being of -the Scots Commonwealth. The motions were proposed about the same time -in the two Assemblies, in speeches worthy of the occasion: in the -Established Kirk by a Scots noble; in the Free Kirk by the ablest -ecclesiastical statesman of his day; Carmichael was thankful that he was -in the Free Kirk Assembly when the motion was carried, with tears -and cheers, none objecting, and that he was in time, with a fearful -struggle, to get his head within the door of the Tolbooth, when the -ministers and elders of the Established Kirk stood up as one man at -the bidding of their moderator, and before Her Majesty's Lord High -Commissioner, and declared for union; and thankful that he was one -of the crowd that poured out of both Assemblies in the High Street of -Edinburgh and heard the bells of St. Giles, which had been the witness -of many a fierce conflict, ringing out the news of peace and concord -through the grey capital of the nation. - -There was still one risk to be run and one barrier to be surmounted, for -the concordat of the Church required the sanction of Parliament. Through -the summer days the battle had been fought in the lobbies and committee -rooms of the House of Commons, and that afternoon it was to be decided; -and up to the last there was a chance that the bill might be thrown out, -and the heart's desire of Scotland once more refused at Westminster. For -there were cross-currents which no man could calculate; there were stiff -old Tories who hated the idea of the Church being disestablished; keen -Radicals who were determined that the Church should be also disendowed; -Episcopalians who were eager that the title of the Church of Scotland -should be left open to be claimed by that respectable, though limited, -dissenting community, which traces its descent through Archbishop Sharpe -and John Graham of Claverhouse; and a balance of men who disliked all -Churches equally, and were always ready to hinder religion, when they -could get an opportunity. If the bill were thrown out it would be a sad -calamity, and Lord Kilspindie had promised to telegraph to Dr. Davidson -the moment the bill passed the Commons; for it had been taken first in -the Lords (and carried with a brisk fight), and Carmichael proposed to -meet the messenger at Tochty bridge, and escort him to the manse. - -It did not, however, surprise Carmichael to find the minister of the -parish of Drumtochty walking to and fro on the level ground from which -the wonderful arch of the ancient bridge sprang, and talking affably -with Hillocks on the prospects of harvest, but keeping all the time a -watchful eye on the distant point on the other side of the Glen where -the road emerged from the pine woods and the Kildrummie messenger would -first be seen. - -"Glad to see you, Carmichael," said the doctor, with just the faintest -suggestion of excitement in his manner; "I left a message at the manse -that if you called they were to send you down to the bridge, but I -rather suspected you would be here. For myself, I frankly confess -I could neither sit nor read, so I just turned out to wait for the -messenger. It's a historical day, Carmichael, charged with great issues -for Scotland." - -They climbed the stiff ascent, and stood on the arch through which the -Tochty ran, clear and sparkling, that summer evening. - -"More than a century of Scots history has run since this bridge was -built, some of it sad enough; but, please God, we shall see good days -before they build the new bridge. What hinders the messenger? Kilspindie -expected to telegraph by five at latest, and now it's six o'clock." The -doctor snuffed uneasily and wiped his eye-glasses. "I wish I had gone -down to Kildrummie. What's that, Carmichael, on the crest of the hill? -Your eyes are quicker than mine." - -"It's a man on horseback, and we'll soon know who he is, for he's riding -hard. I should recognize that horse. Why, it's Macfarlane's chestnut -that brings me up from the station in forty minutes and something to -spare, and Macfarlane's riding her himself. If the old chap hasn't -saddled a horse and ridden up to bring us the news post-haste! Isn't he -going! He would never come that speed if it were bad news. They've let -it out at the post office, as sure as we're standing here; and, look, -Macfarlane has seen us. He's waving his hat, doctor; the bill has -passed, and the Kirks are one." They went down the other side of the -bridge, and Carmichael did not look at Dr. Davidson, for the doctor's -stately step was broken, and he was again polishing his eyeglasses. -The chestnut was covered with dust, and so was Macfarlane, and the mare -herself seemed to be triumphant when Macfarlane reined her in on the -other side of the bridge. - -"Half expeckit to see you here, gentlemen," for even Macfarlane, dealer -in horses, in coals, in manure, and hirer of carriages, was discomposed. -"Message came in at 6.48; had the mare ready; left at 6.60; done the -three miles in thirteen and a half minutes"--all this in one breath; -then, jumping off his horse and taking off his hat, "A telegram for you, -Dr. Davidson." - -He patted the chestnut on the neck for her good going, and tried to look -as if he did not know what was in the envelope. Dr. Davidson handed the -envelope to Carmichael, who understood the reason, and, stripping it -off, handed him the message. - -"Quiet, lass, quiet!" said Macfarlane. Carmichael straightened himself, -and raised his hand to that weather-beaten soft hat of his, which was -the scandal of the Presbytery; the doctor unfolded the paper with a -shaking hand, a flush passed over his face, the tears--which already -were in his eyes--broke and rolled down his face, and he read out with -a trembling voice--"Bill carried by a majority of two hundred and -thirty-three. God bless the Kirk of Scotland, one again and for -ever!--Kilspindie." - -"Hip, hip, hurrah!" Carmichael was very young, but Macfarlane might -have known better, who was waving his cap with one hand and holding the -dancing mare with the other; while Hillocks was a spectacle of glory, -standing on the summit of the bridge and throwing in a hoarse shout. -Dr. Davidson took no part in the cheer, for he had turned aside and was -looking to the hill where the Parish Kirk peeped out from the trees, and -there were many thoughts in his mind. - -"Dr. Davidson," said Carmichael, still holding his hat in his hand, and -tuning his voice to affectionate respect, "you are minister this day -unto every man in the parish of Drumtochty, and you will add to all your -past kindnesses by letting me be your faithful assistant." - -The old man took Carmichael's hand in both his own, but for once he -could find no words. - -"Ye saw them gang oot, doctor, and ye'll see them come back," said -Hillocks, descending from the top of the bridge. - -"I honoured them when they went out," replied the doctor, finding speech -again, "and I love them coming back to their old Kirk." It was agreed -between Carmichael and the doctor that half an hour from that time the -bells of the two kirks should be rung, and though neither bell dominated -more than the distance of three fields, Dr. Davidson declared that the -Free Church bell was distinctly audible in the kirkyard; while a group -of Free Kirk men gathered round their door remarked to one another that -they had never noticed before how sweet was the sound of the Old Kirk -bell. And they were speaking true, for the bells were ringing in their -hearts. While Parliament had been deliberating on the bill, the two -Kirks had been making their arrangements in faith for the uniting of -congregations, and it had already been determined that Dr. Davidson and -Carmichael should be joint ministers of the parish of Drumtochty, and -that the congregations should worship in the Parish Kirk. When there -was a will in Drumtochty there was always a way, and arrangements -were quickly made that the parish should gather again on the following -Sabbath into the kirk where their fathers had worshipped, and round -which the dust of generations lay. At eleven o'clock the Free Church -congregation met for the last time as a separate flock, in the building -which they had erected with great sacrifice, and which was sanctified by -many sacred memories; and then, after Carmichael had conducted a short -service, and Donald Menzies, one of the elders, had offered up a prayer -of thanksgiving wherein he carried the congregation with him to -the Mercy Seat, and moved even the stiffest, they sang the second -Paraphrase, "O God of Bethel! by whose hand," and Carmichael pronounced -the benediction, with more than one pause between the words. Then they -went out through the door by which, more than a generation ago, the -congregation had entered, obeying their conscience, and testifying for -the freedom of Christ's Kirk. Without any marshalling or vain ceremony -they fell into a procession, and this was the order in which they went. -First came Carmichael in his gown and bands, his M.A. hood and college -cap, carrying in his hand his mother's Bible, and beside him Bumbrae, -Donald Menzies, Lauchlan Campbell, and the other elders, all dressed as -for the Sacrament. Behind them followed the choir, and then the people -as they pleased, family by family, parents and children together. Thrice -on the road they broke into singing, and these were the Psalms they -sang--the xcviii.-- - - "O sing a new song to the Lord, - For wonders He hath done: - His right hand and His holy arm - Him victory hath won"; - -and the lxxxiv.-- - - "How lovely is Thy dwelling-place, - O Lord of hosts, to me! - The tabernacles of Thy grace - How pleasant, Lord, they be!" - -and the cxxxiii.-- - - "Behold, how good a thing it is, - And how becoming well, - Together such as brethren are - In unity to dwell!" - -They began to sing this Psalm as they were ascending the height on which -the Parish Kirk stood, and when they reached the top of the hill the -sound of the Psalm was still in the air. Then Carmichael and the elders -beheld a heartening spectacle. Dr. Davidson and, his people had also -met for worship in their kirk, and, being told by a swift messenger that -their brethren were at hand, they had come out through the kirkyard and -ranged themselves in two rows along the roadside; while in the centre -of the high road, and in front of his people, stood the parish minister, -with his ruling elder, Drum-sheugh, by his side. The two ministers faced -one another, and the people stood perfectly still; the glorious sunshine -poured down upon their heads, and on either side the fields were golden -unto the harvest. Clear but tender was Dr. Davidson's voice. "Reverend -and dearly-beloved brother, I greet you, your elders, and your -congregation in the name of the Lord, and, as senior minister of this -parish, I bid you welcome to the Kirk of Drumtochty." - -And then Carmichael--"Reverend and honoured father in the Gospel of -our Lord Jesus Christ, my people and I thank God that there is now one -congregation in Drumtochty, and that you are our minister." - -Drumsheugh grasped Bumbrae's hand, but what passed between those two -worthy men no one heard, and then Dr. Davidson and Carmichael headed the -united procession, with the elders behind them; and as they moved down -the sideway between the hedges, the Old Kirk folk fell in with the Free -Kirk, so that they passed through the kirkyard one united company, and -as they went they sang the Psalm cxxii.-- - - "I joy'd when to the house of God, - Go up, they said to me. - Jerusalem, within thy gates - Our feet shall standing be." - -And by a happy coincidence they were singing the last words as the -ministers and elders went in through the door-- - - "Now, for my friends' and brethren's sakes, - Peace be in thee, I'll say. - And for the house of God our Lord, - I'll seek thy good alway." - -It had been arranged between them, who were indeed as father and son, -that Dr. Davidson should take the service and Carmichael should preach -the sermon, and when the people were all seated, neither Established nor -Free now, but all Scots Kirk men with one heart, one faith, one love, -Dr. Davidson gave out another of the glorious Psalms, whose ancient -traditions and wealth of spiritual emotion had served the people so well -that day. - -"Let us worship God this day, and sing unto the praise of His glorious -name Psalm cxxvi." - - "When Sion's bondage God turn'd back, - As men that dream'd were we." - -But he was not able to read further, and the congregation, who -understood, and whose own hearts were full, broke into the singing; and -at the noise thereof Carmichael awoke, for it was only a dream. - -"What might have been," he said to himself, with wistful regret, as he -descended the hill, and then his heart lifted, "and, please God, what is -going to be before my day is done." - - - - -XXII.--THE VISION OF THE SOUL - - -THERE were many modest homes in the Glen, but the humblest of them all -was that of Bell Robb, where she lived with Jean, her sister, and blind -Marjorie. It had only one room, and that had only one window. A tall man -could stand upright only in the centre, and the hearth was so near the -top of the chimney that it was a fight in the winter time between the -fire and the snow, and the snow used to win the battle before morning. -There was a box bed at the back of the room where Bell and Jean -slept, and the lowliest of little beds just below the window had been -Marjorie's home night and day for many a long year, because she had -not only been blind from her birth, but since middle age had also been -paralyzed. There was a table and two chairs, and a dresser on which -the humble stock of crockery was carefully displayed. From above the -fireplace the humblest of oil lamps, called a cruizie, projected, but -the cottage had two brass candlesticks which were never used, but were -polished like unto fine gold and were the glory of the home. - -If providence had been unkind to any person in the Glen it was to -Marjorie, for her birth had been a tragedy, and the helpless child, -blind and feeble, had been flung upon the world. She had never known -father or mother, she had never seen the primroses in the Tochty woods -when spring made her first visit, nor the purple of the heather in -autumn time, nor the golden com in the field before her door, nor the -sunshine upon the Burn down below. She had no kinsfolk to take charge of -her, she had no claim upon any one except the poor law authorities, and -had she been bom into a parish like Kilbogie the workhouse had been her -only asylum. But it was a kindly little world into which this poor waif -and stray had come--a world which had not many words nor much money, -whose ways were curious and whose manner was austere, but whose heart -was big and warm. Drumtochty had its laws of public policy which -Government itself was never able to over-ride, which every man and woman -in the Glen set themselves to enforce. And one was that no native of -the Glen should ever be sent to the coldness and bondage of a workhouse; -that however poor he might be and however long he lived, he must be kept -in the shelter of our pine woods where he could see the Tochty run. As -a matter of fact, this was not so great a burden on the neighbours, for -Drumtochty folk had a rooted objection, which not even the modern spirit -creeping up into the Glen could overcome, against being paupers or -depending on any person save on themselves and God. Drumtochty had no -pity for wastrels and very little sympathy with shiftless people, but -Marjorie, poor Marjorie, she had the spirit to work--we judged she had -about the highest spirit in the Glen--but what could she do without -sight and with her trembling hands? So the Glen adopted Marjorie, and -declared in wayside talk and many a kirkyard conference that she had -given them more than they had ever given to her. - -Bell Robb and Jean, her sister, earned their living by hoeing turnips, -lifting potatoes, binding at harvest and gathering the stones off -the field--which were ever coming up to the surface in our poor thin -soil--and they made between them on an average from January to December -nearly twelve shillings a week. They declared that being two solitary -women providence had intended they should have Marjorie, and now for -thirty years she had been with them, and they spent upon her twice as -much as they received in grants from the parish inspector, and declared -with brazen effrontery that they were making a little fortune out of -her. They also gave sixpence a month to the sustentation fund of the -Free Kirk, and a shilling at a great collection, and if there was any -little presentation in the Glen they had a shilling for that also. How -they did those things was only known to God. Their faces were lined by -labour and burned brown by the sun, but they looked well in the light of -the Sacrament, for they were partakers of the Lord's Cross; their hands -were rough and hard with field labour, but very gentle and kindly -when they waited upon Marjorie. And when Marjorie began to relate the -catalogue of her blessings, she always put next to her Saviour Bell and -her sister Jean. The two sisters have had their humble funeral years -ago, and their tired bodies with Marjorie's body of humiliation were -laid to rest in the old kirkyard, and theirs was then the reward of Him -who said, "I was a stranger and ye took me in." Drumsheugh, returning -from Muirtown market one afternoon by road, dropped in to pass the time -o' day with Marjorie--leaving half a pound of tea upon the dresser--and -was arrested by the humility of her bed. He was overheard saying "Sall" -to himself as he returned to the main road with the tone of a man who -had come to a resolution, and next Friday he drove up from Muirtown with -a small iron bedstead, arranged in parts over his dogcart, while he sat -with dignity upon the mattress. The installation of Marjorie into her -new couch was the event of her life, and for weeks the Glen dropped in, -partly to see Drumsheugh's amazing gift, but chiefly to hear Marjorie on -his unparalleled kindness and its unparalleled splendour. She had -felt it over inch by inch, and knew the pattern to a turn, but she -was chiefly concerned that her visitors should observe and rightly -appreciate the brass knobs at the four corners. - -"Drumsheugh micht have got an ordinary bed for half the money, but -naething wud sateesfy him but brass knobs. Ye may say that I canna -see them, but I can feel them, and I ken that they're there, and the -neighbours see them, and to think o't that I'm lying here like a queen -on a spring bed with four brass knobs. And me that has no claim on -Drumsheugh or ony other body, juist crowned wi' loving kindness. I'll -need to ask grace to be kept humble." - -According to Marjorie indeed her whole life had been arranged on the -principle of Drumsheugh's giving: instead of iron she had received -brass, yea, much fine gold, and all things had worked together for her -good. When her minister Carmichael forgot himself one day and pitied her -for her afflictions she was amazed, and had to remind herself that he -had only come to the Glen. For was it not her helplessness that had won -her so much love, so that from high Glen Urtarch down to the borders of -Kilbogie every man, woman and child was her friend, dropping in to see -her, bringing her all the news, and making her so many little presents -that she was "fair ashamed"? And she reminded John Carmichael that if -she, Marjorie, had been an able-bodied woman, he would not have paid her -so many visits, nor told her so many "bonny stories." - -"Mr. Carmichael, I'll have much to answer for, for I've been greatly -blessed. I judge masel' the maist priveeleged woman in Drumtochty." And -then Carmichael, who had his own troubles and discontentments, used to -go away a wiser and a better man. - -Marjorie saw the hand of an all,-wise and all-loving Providence in the -arrangements of her home. For one thing it faced south, and she got the -warmth and the shining of the sun through her little window, and there -was an advantage in the door opening straight from the garden into the -room, for the scent of the flowers came in to her bed, and she knew when -the wallflowers had begun to bloom and when the first rosebud above the -doorway had opened. She would have liked very well to have gone to the -Kirk with a goodly company, but lying alone on her bed through the hours -of service she had time for prayer, and I have heard her declare that -the time was too short for her petitions. "For, ye see, I have sae mony -friends to remember, and my plan is to begin at the top of the Glen and -tak' them family by family till I come to the end of the parish. And wud -ye believe it, I judge that it takes me four complete days to bring a' -the fowk I love before the Throne of Grace." - -As for her darkness of earthly sight, this, she insisted, was the chief -good which God had bestowed upon her, and she made out her case with the -ingenuity of a faithful and contented heart. - -"If I dinna see"--and she spoke as if this was a matter of doubt and she -were making a concession for argument's sake--"there's naebody in the -Glen can hear like me. There's no a footstep of a Drum-tochty man comes -to the door but I ken his name, and there's no a voice oot on the road -that I canna tell. The birds sing sweeter to me than to onybody else, -and I can hear them cheeping to one another in the bushes before they -go to sleep. And the flowers smell sweeter to me--the roses and the -carnations and the bonny moss rose--and I judge that the oatcake and -milk taste the richer because I dinna see them. Na, na, ye're no to -think that I've been ill treated by my God, for if He didna give me ae -thing, He gave me mony things instead. - -"And mind ye, it's no as if I'd seen once and lost my sight; that micht -ha' been a trial, and my faith micht have failed. I've lost naething; my -life has been all getting." - -And she said confidentially one day to her elder, Donald Menzies-- - -"There's a mercy waitin' for me that'll crown a' His goodness, and I'm -feared when I think o't, for I'm no worthy." - -"What iss that that you will be meaning, Marjorie," said the elder. - -"He has covered my face with His hand as a father plays with his bairn, -but some day sune He will lift His hand, and the first thing that -Marjorie sees in a' her life will be His ain face." - -And Donald Menzies declared to Bumbrae on the way home that he would -gladly go blind all the days of his life if he were as sure of that -sight when the day broke and the shadows fled away. - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of His Majesty Baby and Some Common People, by -Ian MacLaren - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIS MAJESTY BABY *** - -***** This file should be named 43727-8.txt or 43727-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/7/2/43727/ - -Produced by David Widger - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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-<title>
-His Majesty Baby and Some Common People, by Ian Maclaren
-</title>
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-Project Gutenberg's His Majesty Baby and Some Common People, by Ian MacLaren
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-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
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-Title: His Majesty Baby and Some Common People
-
-Author: Ian MacLaren
-
-Release Date: September 15, 2013 [EBook #43727]
-Last Updated: March 1, 2018
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-Language: English
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-Character set encoding: UTF-8
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-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIS MAJESTY BABY ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
-<div style="height: 8em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h1>
-HIS MAJESTY BABY <br /><br /> AND SOME COMMON PEOPLE
-</h1>
-<p>
-<br />
-</p>
-<h2>
-By Ian MacLaren
-</h2>
-<p>
-<br />
-</p>
-<h3>
-1902
-</h3>
-<p>
-<br /> <br />
-</p>
-<h4>
-To Andrew Carnegie, <br /> <br /> The Munificent Benefactor Of <br /> Scots
-Students
-</h4>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<p>
-<b>CONTENTS</b>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I.—HIS MAJESTY BABY </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II.—NEWS OF A FAMOUS VICTORY </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III.—A MODEST SCHOLAR </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV.—MY FRIEND THE TRAMP </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0005"> V.—OUR BOY </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0006"> VI.—A RESIDUARY </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VII.—A RACONTEUR </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VIII.—WITH UNLEAVENED BREAD </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0009"> IX.—OUR FOREIGN MANNERS </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0010"> X.—NILE VIEWS </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0011"> XI.—THE RESTLESS AMERICAN </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XII.—A SCOT INDEED </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XIII.—HIS CROWNING DAY </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIV.—“DINNA FORGET SPURGEON” </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XV.—THEIR FULL RIGHTS </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XVI.—AN EXPERT IN HERESY </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVII.—THE SCOT AT AN ARGUMENT </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVIII.—UPON THE LECTURE PLATFORM </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XIX.—FOR THE SAKE OF A HORSE </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XX.—NO RELEVANT OBJECTION </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XXI.—WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XXII.—THE VISION OF THE SOUL </a>
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-I.—HIS MAJESTY BABY
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">U</span>NTIL the a'bus stopped and the old gentleman entered, we had been a
-contented and genial company, travelling from a suburb into the city in
-high, good fellowship, and our absolute monarch was Baby. His mother was
-evidently the wife of a well-doing artisan, a wise-looking, capable,
-bonnie young woman; and Baby was not a marvel of attire, nor could he be
-called beautiful. He was dressed after a careful, tidy, comfortable
-fashion, and he was a clear-skinned, healthy child; that is all you would
-have noticed had you met the two on the street. In a'bus where there is
-nothing to do for forty minutes except stare into one another's faces, a
-baby has the great chance of his life, and this baby was made to seize it.
-He was not hungry, and there were no pins about his clothes, and nobody
-had made him afraid, and he was by nature a human soul. So he took us in
-hand one by one, till he had reduced us all to a state of delighted
-subjection, to the pretended scandal and secret pride of his mother. His
-first conquest was easy, and might have been discounted, for against such
-an onset there was no power of resistance in the elderly woman opposite—one
-of the lower middles, fearfully stout, and of course a grandmother. He
-simply looked at her—if he smiled, that was thrown in—for,
-without her knowledge, her arms had begun to shape for his reception—so
-often had children lain on that ample resting-place. “Bless 'is little
-'eart; it do me good to see him.” No one cared to criticize the words, and
-we remarked to ourselves how the expression changes the countenance. Not
-heavy and red, far less dull, the proper adjective for the face is
-motherly. The next passenger, just above Grannie, is a lady, young and
-pretty, and a mother? Of course; did you not see her look Baby over, as an
-expert at her sharpest, before she grows old and is too easily satisfied?
-Will she approve, or is there something wrong which male persons and
-grandmothers cannot detect? The mother is conscious of inspection, and
-adjusts a ribbon His Majesty had tossed aside—one of his few
-decorations which he wore on parade for the good of the public and his own
-glory—and then she meekly awaited approval. For a moment we were
-anxious, but that was our foolishness, for in half a minute the lady's
-face relaxed, and she passed Baby. She leant forward and asked questions,
-and we overheard scraps of technical detail: “My first... fourteen
-months... six teeth... always well.” Baby was bored, and apologised to
-the'bus. “Mothers, you know—this is the way they go on; but what a
-lot they do for us! so we must be patient.” Although rank outsiders—excluded
-from the rites of the nursery—yet we made no complaint, but were
-rather pleased at this conference. One was a lady, the other a working
-woman; they had not met before, they were not likely to meet again, but
-they had forgotten strangeness and differences in the common bond of
-motherhood. Opposite me a priest was sitting and saying his office, but at
-this point his eye fell on the mothers, and I thought his lips shaped the
-words “Sancta Maria” before he went on with the appointed portion, but
-that may have been my fancy. The'bus will soon be dropping into poetry.
-Let us be serious and stare before us, as becometh well-bred English
-people.
-</p>
-<p>
-Baby has wearied of inaction, and has begun another campaign, and my heart
-sinks, for this time he courts defeat; On the other side of Grannie and
-within Baby's sphere of influence was a man about whose profession there
-could be little doubt, even if he had not a bag on his knee and were not
-reading from a parchment document. After a long and serious consideration
-of the lawyer's clear-cut, clean-shaven, bloodless face, Baby leant
-forward and tapped gently on the deed, and then, when the keen face looked
-up in quick inquiry, Baby replied with a smile of roguish intelligence, as
-if to say, “Full of big words as long as myself, but quite useless; it
-could all have been said in a sentence, as you and I know quite well; by
-the way, that parchment would make an excellent drum; do you mind me? A
-tune has just come into my head.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The lawyer, of course, drew away the deed, and frowned at the insolence of
-the thing? No, he did not—there is a soul in lawyers, if you know
-how to find it. He smiled. Well, it was not a first-rate smile, but I
-swear that it was genuine, and the next time he did it better, and
-afterwards it spread all over his face and lighted up his eyes. He had
-never been exposed in such a genial, irresistible way before, and so he
-held the drum, and Baby played a variation on “Rule Britannia” with much
-spirit, while grannie appealed for applause.
-</p>
-<p>
-“If 'e don't play as well as the band in 'yde Park of a Sunday.”
- </p>
-<p>
-After a well deserved rest of forty seconds, during which we wagged our
-heads in wonder, Baby turned his attention to his right-hand neighbour,
-and for the balance of the minute examined her with compassion. An old
-maid without question, with her disposition written on the thin, tightly
-drawn lips, and the hard, grey eyes. None of us would care to trifle
-with... Will he dare?... if he has not! That was his chief stroke of
-genius, and it deserved success—when, with an expression of
-unaffected pity, he put out his soft, dimpled hand and gently stroked her
-cheek. “Poor thing, all alone, 'lone, 'lone,” he cooed in her ear, as if to
-say with liquid baby speech, “I'm so solly, solly, solly, so velly, velly,
-velly solly.” Did I say that her eyes were tender and true enough to win a
-man's heart and keep it, and that her lips spoke of patience and
-gentleness? If I did not, I repair my neglect. She must have been a
-beautiful woman in her youth—no, no, to-day, just when she inclines
-her head ever so slightly, and Baby strokes her cheek again, and cooes,
-“Pretty, pretty, pretty, and so velly, velly, velly good.” Was not that a
-lovely flush on her cheek?—oh, the fool of a man who might have had
-that love. She opens a neat little bag, and as this was an imperial
-incident we watched without shame. Quite so; she is to be away all day,
-and has got a frugal luncheon, and—it's all she can do in return.
-Perhaps he cannot eat it. I don't know, nor does she; that's the pity of
-it, poor soul, baby-ways are a mystery to her; but would he refuse that
-biscuit? Not he; he makes an immense to do over it, and shows it to his
-mother and all his loyal subjects; and he was ready to be kissed, but she
-did not like to kiss him. Peace be with thy shy, modest soul, the
-Christ-child come into thine heart!
-</p>
-<p>
-Two passengers on Baby's left had endured these escapades with patient and
-suffering dignity. When a boy is profoundly conscious that he is—well,
-a man—and yet a blind and unfeeling world conspires to treat him as—well,
-a child—he must protect himself and assert his position. Which he
-does, to the delight of everybody with any sense of humour, by refusing
-indignantly to be kissed by his mother—or at least sisters—in
-public, by severely checking any natural tendency to enthusiasm about
-anything except sport, by allowing it to be understood that he has
-exhausted the last remaining pleasure and is fairly burnt out. Dear boy,
-and all the time ready to run a mile to see a cavalry regiment drill, and
-tormented by a secret hankering after the Zoological Gardens. These two
-had been nice little chaps two years ago, and would be manly fellows two
-years hence. Meanwhile they were provoking, and required chastisement or
-regeneration. Baby was to them a “kid,” to be treated with contempt, and
-when in a paroxysm of delight over the folly of a law paper he had tilted
-one of the young men's hats, that blase ancient replaced it in position
-with a bored and weary air. How Baby had taken in the situation I cannot
-guess, but he had his mind on the lads, and suddenly, while they were
-sustaining an elaborate unconcern, he flung himself back and crowed—yes,
-joyfully crowed—with rosy, jocund countenance in the whites of the
-eyes of the two solemnities. One raised his eyebrows, and the other looked
-at the roof in despair; but I had hopes, and who could resist this
-bubbling, chortling mirth? Next minute one chuckles joyfully, and the
-other tickles Baby just at the right spot below the chin—has a baby
-at home after all, and loves it—declaring aloud that he is “a jolly
-little beggar.” Those boys are all right; there is a sound heart below the
-little affectations, and they are going to be men.
-</p>
-<p>
-This outburst of His Majesty cheered us all mightily, and a young woman at
-the top of the'bus catching his eye, waved her hand to him, with a happy
-smile. Brown glove, size six and a quarter, perhaps six, much worn, and
-jacket also not of yesterday; but everything is well made, and in perfect
-taste. Milk-white teeth, hazel eyes. Grecian nose, what a winsome girl!—and
-let me see, she takes off a glove—yes, is wearing an engagement
-ring: a lucky fellow, for she must be good with those eyes and that merry
-smile. Daughter of a doctor or clergyman who died before he could provide
-for his family; a teacher, one guesses, and to-day off duty, going to meet
-her fiancé in the city; and then the three—her mother, that dear
-woman with hair turning grey—will go upon the river, and come home
-in the sweet summer evening, full of content. As soon as he gets a rise in
-the office they will marry, and she will also have her gift, as every
-woman should. But where am I now?—let that Baby bear the blame.
-</p>
-<p>
-We had one vacant place, and that was how the old gentleman intruded on
-our peace; but let me make every excuse for him. It is aggravating to
-stand on the edge of the pavement and wave your umbrella ostentatiously to
-a'bus which passes you and draws up fifteen yards ahead, to make your
-dangerous way along a slippery street with hansoms bent upon your life, to
-be ordered to “hurry up,” by an impatient conductor and ignominiously
-hauled on to a moving 'bus. For an elderly man of military appearance and
-short temper it was not soothing, and he might have been excused a word or
-two, but he distinctly exceeded.
-</p>
-<p>
-He insisted in language of great directness and simplicity that the
-conductor had seen him all the time; that if he didn't he ought to have
-been looking; that he—the Colonel—was not a fox-terrier to run
-after a'bus in the mud; that the conductor was an impertinent scoundrel,
-and that he would have him dismissed, with other things and words unworthy
-even of a retired Anglo-Indian. The sympathy of the'bus did not go out to
-him, and when he forced himself in between the lawyer and Grannie, and,
-leaning forward with his hands on his cane, glared at us impartially,
-relations were strained. A cut on his left cheek and a bristly white
-moustache, half hiding, half concealing a cruel mouth, did not commend the
-new passenger to a peaceable company. Baby regarded the old man with sad
-attention, pained at his unlicensed talk, but full of charity, and at last
-he indicates that his fancy is to examine the silver head of the Colonel's
-cane. The Colonel, after two moments' hesitation, removes his hands and
-gives full liberty. On second thoughts, he must have got that cut in some
-stiff fight; wonder whether he is a V.G. Baby moves the cane back and
-forwards to a march of his own devising—the Colonel actively
-assisting. Now that I see it in a proper light, his moustache is soft and
-sets off the face excellently. Had it not been the cut puckering the
-corner of the upper lip, that would have been a very sweet mouth for a
-man, or even for a woman. Baby is not lifted above all human weaknesses—preserve
-us from perfect people—and he indicates a desire to taste as well as
-handle the silver head. The Colonel is quite agreeable—the most
-good-natured man you could meet in a day's journey. But Baby's guardian
-objects, and history warns us of the dangers which beset a collision
-between an absolute monarch and his faithful Commons. We were all
-concerned, but the crisis is safe in the Colonel's hands. He thrusts his
-hand within the tightly-buttoned frock-coat and produces a gold
-hunting-watch—crested, did you notice, and... yes, just what every
-father has done for his baby since watches were invented—before that
-a fist served the purpose—he blew, the lid flew open. Baby blew, and
-the lid flew open faster and farther. Grannie would like to know whether
-any baby could have done the trick better, but there was no use asking us.
-“Reminds me of my boy at that age... Bailed on frontier last year.” Is
-much ashamed of this confidence, and we all look unconscious. What a fine,
-simple old fellow he is!
-</p>
-<p>
-“Saved up, has he”—the Colonel is speaking to the mother—“to
-give Baby and you a week at Ramsgate?... he's the right sort, your
-husband... it's for Baby, not for you, to get him some fol-de-rol, you
-know... he's done a lot of good to a crusty old chap.”... The conductor
-has taken in the scene with huge delight, and closes it just at the right
-point. “Your club, General; just wait till the'bus stops.... Can ye get
-near the kerb, Bill? Now, that's right, take care, sir, plenty of time...
-Oh, that was nothing, might'ave seen you sooner... thank ye, I do smoke at
-a time... Mornin', General; all right, Bill.” The Colonel was standing on
-the broad top step of the “Veteran's” smiling and waving his hand; the'bus
-waved back, and the conductor touched his cap. “A gentleman every inch;
-cads ain't mide that wy,” and Baby danced for sheer Christian joy, since
-there is no victory like Love.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-II.—NEWS OF A FAMOUS VICTORY
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>E had been talking that morning at the Office of the siege of Ladysmith,
-for six relatives of the family were at the front, three with Sir George
-White in the besieged place, and three with Sir Redvers Buller, fighting
-for their deliverance. Word had come to the house the night before that
-Ladysmith might be relieved any hour, and every one knew that unless help
-came speedily, the garrison would have to surrender. Duty took me to
-Cambridge that day, and I had gone upstairs to get ready, and coming down
-again I heard a shout in the hall as if something had happened, but it did
-not occur to me what it was. My hostess was speaking excitedly somewhere,
-and I could not catch what she was saying. Servants had rushed out from
-bedrooms and other places, and were standing on the breakfast-table in a
-house near the War landings. As I reached the hall the butler, a most
-stately personage, broke forth from his quarters and rushed past me
-carrying his coat on his arm, and then in his shirt sleeves, having
-forgotten to put on his coat, and without a hat—he will likely deny
-this, but he was a spectacle for gods and men—he ran, yes, he who
-was intended by nature to be an archbishop, ran across the square. Then I
-understood, and turned to a footman, who looked as if he would like to
-follow the butler.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Ladysmith,” was all I said.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Yes,” he cried; “word come, War Office, sent here, butler gone, make
-sure”; then he went out to the doorstep to catch the first sight of the
-returning butler. Meanwhile my hostess had come down to the hall, and
-there had gathered the household of all kinds and degrees—my host
-and the other guests had gone out—housemaids, ladies' maids,
-kitchen-maids, footmen, her majesty the cook, and every other person
-beneath the roof, high and low, and we were all trembling lest there had
-been some mistake in the message, and the news was not true. The butler
-came across St. James's Square, and when he saw us standing—forgetting
-himself again, but now he had his coat on—he waved triumphantly, and
-then we knew that Ladysmith was saved. We gave some sort of cheer and
-shook hands indiscriminately, each one with his neighbour, and with two or
-three neighbours, and talked together, mingling names of Generals and
-relatives, and places, and battles, while the butler, who had arrived and
-regained his breath, but not yet his unapproachable dignity, assured us
-that the siege was lifted, and that White, and what remained of his
-gallant men, were unconquered.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was time for me to start, and I told the hansom man to drive round by
-the War Office, that I might see this great thing. When we got down the
-Press were just leaving with the intelligence, and the first of the public
-were reading the news. Each man took the news in his own fashion, one
-laughing and slapping his legs, another crying and speaking to himself, a
-third rushing out to cheer, and I, why I, being an unemotional Scot,
-remembered that if I fooled away any more time, reading news of victories,
-I might lose my train, so I rushed back to the hansom.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Is't all correct?” the driver leant down from his perch, determined not
-to let himself go till he was perfectly certain that, not only the
-straight tip had been given, but that at last the event had come off.
-</p>
-<p>
-“All right,” I said; “Buller's army have driven back the Boers, and the
-advance guard has entered Ladysmith.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Whereupon he whipped off his hat, and standing up in his place, a stout,
-red-faced Englishman in sporting dress, he gave a cheer all on his own
-account, and then when I got in he opened the trap and shouted down, “Old
-Buller's done it; he had a bloomin' tough job, but he's a game sportsman,
-and I said he'd do it. And old Buller's done it.” Again he celebrated the
-event with a cheer, and we started for Charing Cross.
-</p>
-<p>
-Something occurred to me, and I pushed the trap open. “Look here,” I said,
-“the people near the War Office have heard the news, but after we pass
-Piccadilly Circus you'll be the first man to tell that the siege is
-raised.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Right, sir, I'm on the job. Old Buller's done it.” By the time we reached
-Bloomsbury he had the whole country to himself, and he did his duty
-manfully. As we crossed a thoroughfare, he would shout to the'bus drivers
-on either side, “Ladysmith relieved; just come from the War Office. Old
-Buller's done it.” Then in an instant, before we plunged into the opposite
-street, one could see the tidings run both ways, from 'bus to 'bus, from
-cab to cab, and the hats waving in the air, and hear, “Ladysmith and
-Buller.” Bloomsbury is a fearfully decorous and immovable district,
-inhabited by professors and British Museum students, and solid merchants,
-and professional men, but my driver for once stirred up Bloomsbury. A
-householder would be standing on his doorstep in tall hat and frock coat,
-well brushed, and with a daintily folded umbrella under his left arm,
-fastening the left button of the second glove, and looking out upon the
-world from the serene superiority of a single eyeglass. Then he would
-catch sight of us, and the sound of something my driver was flinging to
-the men on a furniture van.
-</p>
-<p>
-“What's that?” he would cry in a sharp, excited, insistent voice;
-“anything about Ladysmith?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Relieved,” from the hansom top. “War Office news. Old Buller's done it.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Down fell the umbrella on the step, and down came the eyeglass from the
-eye, and with an answering cheer the unstarched, enthusiastic, triumphant,
-transformed householder bolted into his home to make it known from attic
-to kitchen that White and his men had not fought in vain.
-</p>
-<p>
-Round the dustbin at the corner of a street half a dozen street boys were
-gathered, and the driver in his glory passed a word to them also. They did
-not know where they would get their dinner, and they had not had much
-breakfast, their whole stock of clothes would not have been worth 1s. 9d.,
-and not one of them had a cap, but they also were a bit of England, and
-this victory was theirs, and the last I saw of them they were standing
-each one upon his head and waving joyfully with his feet.
-</p>
-<p>
-“See, sir, how the kids took it,” for my driver was getting more
-magnificent every minute; “said all along old Buller would do it.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Coming down Euston Road was one blaze of glory, and when we swept into
-King's Cross Station at the gallop, and my driver saw the crowd of waiting
-porters and other hangers-on, an audience as yet unspoiled and waiting,
-ready for such news, it was, I take it, the greatest moment in his life.
-He pulled up the horse on his haunches, and again stood up on his high
-place.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Straight from the War Office, as hard as we could drive; it's all right
-at Ladysmith—the siege is lifted, and old Buller's done it”; and
-then, to crown the occasion, “Three cheers for General Buller.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He led from the top, and they joined from below, and so great was the
-excitement that when I offered the usual tip to the porter to carry my
-things to the carriage, he flatly refused to take it.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Hexcuse me, sir, not to-day; I ain't that sort. You brought the news of
-Ladysmith.” Which indeed was all my share of the glory of the passage: the
-rest belonged to my driver, who was indeed a Mercury fit for the work of
-the gods.
-</p>
-<p>
-Just as the train was starting a man arrived with a pile of newspapers to
-sell them on the downward journey, for the special editions with the
-relief of Ladysmith had been got out with vast celerity. It was a pretty
-sight when the train stopped at some country station to see the man jump
-out and hear him shout the news, while the people, a moment ago stolid and
-indifferent, crowded round him to buy the paper. And then the train went
-on its way, followed by a cheer, because Ladysmith was safe. At one
-station two respectable country women got into the compartment where I had
-been alone, and they had been so eager, as their kind is, to secure their
-places, that they had not caught the news before the train left the
-station. By-and-by they began talking together, and it appeared that the
-elderly woman had a son at the front, a reservist in an infantry regiment
-with General Buller, while the other was the wife of a reservist who was
-with the cavalry under General French. It was hard lines, one could not
-but feel, for those women to have a son and a husband taken away from
-their homes and peaceful employment, and sent out to hardship and danger.
-And it would not have been wonderful if they had complained of their lot.
-But no, my heart swelled with pride as in a corner of the carriage, and
-behind my newspaper, I heard the mother and the wife exchanging news from
-the seat of campaign, and talking cheerily of critical affairs. Till at
-last, and quite suddenly, trouble arose, and there might have been a hot
-quarrel in that compartment.
-</p>
-<p>
-“My man's all right,” said the wife; “he's with French, you know, and
-French looks after his men, 'e does. Jim says as 'ow 'is General won't let
-'is men into any traps.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Who are ye getting hat may I ask?” said the elderly lady, flushing purple
-with indignation—“talking about traps. If it's General Buller ye're
-meanin', hexcuse me telling you, 'e don't get 'is men into traps. My boy
-says that he 'ad the hardest job of them hall, 'ad General Buller, and
-George, 'e writes and says to me in 'is last letter, 'you just wait and
-see if General Buller don't do it'—them's 'is very words, 'you just
-wait and see if General Buller don't do it.'”
- </p>
-<p>
-The younger woman explained she had been making no reflections on General
-Buller, but only had been telling how proud her husband was of his
-Commander, but nothing would appease the old lady.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I know nothing about French, and I say nothing against French, but I wish
-you to understand that Buller is a good old sort, and, as sure as you're
-sitting there in this carriage, 'e'll do the job.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Then I laid down my newspaper, and addressed the reservist's mother.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Madam,” I said, “your son was right, and Buller is a good old sort; he's
-done the job, and Ladysmith is safe.”
- </p>
-<p>
-We all shook hands, two women wept, but not for sorrow, and a man looked
-out of the window, intent upon the scenery.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-III.—A MODEST SCHOLAR
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>EING a household of moderate attainments, and not being at all superior
-people, we were gravely concerned on learning that it was our duty to
-entertain the distinguished scholar, for our pride was chastened by
-anxiety and we had once received moderators. His name was carried far and
-wide on the wings of fame, and even learned people referred to him with a
-reverence in the tone, because it was supposed there was almost nothing
-within the range of languages and philosophy and theology which he did not
-know, and that if there happened to be any obscure department he had not
-yet overtaken, he would likely be on the way to its conquest. We
-speculated what like he would be—having only heard rumours—and
-whether he would be strangely clothed, we discussed what kind of company
-we could gather to meet such a man, and whether we ought, that is the two
-trembling heads of the household, to read up some subject beforehand that
-we might be able at least to know where he was if we could not follow him.
-And we were haunted with the remembrance of a literary woman who once
-condescended to live with us for two days, and whose conversation was so
-exhausting that we took it in turns like the watch on board ship, one
-standing on the bridge with the spin-drift of quotations flying over his
-head, and the other snatching a few minutes' sleep to strengthen her for
-the storm. That overwhelming lady was only the oracle of a circle after
-all, but our coming visitor was known to the ends of the earth.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was my place to receive him at the station, and pacing up and down the
-platform, I turned over in my mind appropriate subjects for conversation
-in the cab, and determined to lure the great man into a discussion of the
-work of an eminent Oxford philosopher which had just been published, and
-which I knew something about. I had just arranged a question which I
-intended to submit for his consideration, when the express came in, and I
-hastened down the first-class carriages to identify the great man. High
-and mighty people, clothed in purple and fine linen, or what corresponds
-to such garments in our country, were descending in troops with servants
-and porters waiting upon them, but there was no person that suggested a
-scholar. Had he, in the multitude of his thoughts, forgotten his
-engagement altogether, or had he left the train at some stopping-place and
-allowed it to go without him—anything is possible with such a
-learned man.
-</p>
-<p>
-Then I saw a tall and venerable figure descend from a third-class
-compartment and a whole company of genuine “third classers” handing out
-his luggage while he took the most affectionate farewell of them. A
-working man got out to deposit the scholar's Gladstone bag upon the
-platform while his wife passed out his umbrella, and another working man
-handled delicately a parcel of books. The scholar shook hands with every
-one of his fellow-passengers including children, and then I presented
-myself, and looked him in the face. He was rather over six feet in height,
-and erect as a sapling, dressed in old-fashioned and well brushed black
-clothes, and his face placed me immediately at ease, for though it was
-massive and grave, with deep lines and crowned with thick white hair, his
-eyes were so friendly and sincere, had such an expression of modesty and
-affection, that even then, and on the first experience, I forgot the gulf
-between us. Next instant, and almost before I had mentioned my name he
-seized me by the hand, and thanked me for my coming.
-</p>
-<p>
-“This, my good sir,” he said with his old-fashioned courtesy, “is a
-kindness which I never for an instant anticipated, and when I remember
-your many important engagements (important!) and the sacrifice which this
-gracious act (gracious!) must have entailed upon you, I feel this to be an
-honour, sir, for which you will accept this expression of gratitude.” It
-seemed as if there must have been something wrong in our imagination of a
-great man's manner, and when he insisted, beyond my preventing, in
-carrying his bag himself, and would only allow me with many remonstrances
-to relieve him of the books; when I had difficulty in persuading him to
-enter a cab because he was anxious to walk to our house, our fancy
-portrait had almost disappeared. Before leaving the platform he had
-interviewed the guard and thanked him by both word and deed for certain
-“gracious and mindful attentions in the course of the journey.”
- </p>
-<p>
-My wife acknowledged that she had been waiting to give the great man
-afternoon tea in fear and trembling, but there was something about him so
-winsome that she did not need even to study my face, but felt at once that
-however trying writing-women and dilletante critics might be, one could be
-at home with a chief scholar. When I described the guests who were coming—to
-meet him at dinner—such eminent persons as I could gather—he
-was overcome by the trouble we had taken, but also alarmed lest he should
-be hardly fit for their company, being, as he explained himself, a man
-much restricted in knowledge through the just burden of professional
-studies. And before he went to his room to dress he had struck up an
-acquaintance with the youngest member of the family, who seemed to have
-forgotten that our guest was a very great man, and had visited a family of
-Japanese mice with evident satisfaction. During dinner he was so conscious
-of his poverty of attainment in the presence of so many distinguished
-people that he would say very little, but listened greedily to everything
-that fell from the lips of a young Oxford man who had taken a fair degree
-and was omniscient. After dinner we wiled him into a field where very few
-men have gone, and where he was supposed to know everything that could be
-known, and then being once started he spoke for forty minutes to our huge
-delight with such fulness and accuracy of knowledge, with such lucidity
-and purity of speech—allowing for the old-fashioned style—that
-even the Oxford man was silent and admired.
-</p>
-<p>
-Once and again he stopped to qualify his statement of some other scholar's
-position lest he should have done him injustice, and in the end he became
-suddenly conscious of the time he had spoken and implored every one's
-pardon, seeing, as he explained “that the gentlemen present will likely
-have far more intimate knowledge of this subject than I can ever hope to
-attain.” He then asked whether any person present had ever seen a family
-of Japanese mice, and especially whether they had ever seen them waltzing,
-or as he described it “performing their circular motions of the most
-graceful and intricate nature, with almost incredible continuance.” And
-when no one had, he insisted on the company going to visit the menagerie,
-which was conduct not unbecoming a gentleman, but very unbecoming a
-scholar.
-</p>
-<p>
-Next morning, as he was a clergyman, I asked him to take family worship,
-and in the course of the prayer he made most tender supplication for the
-sick relative of “one who serves in this household,” and we learned that
-he had been conversing with the housemaid who attended to his room, having
-traced some expression of sorrow on her face, and found out that her
-mother was ill; while we, the heads of the household, had known nothing
-about the matter, and while we imagined that a scholar would be only
-distantly aware that a housemaid had a mother. It was plainer than ever
-that we knew nothing whatever about great scholars. The public function
-for which he came was an overwhelming success, and after the lapse of now
-many years people still remember that man of amazing erudition and
-grandeur of speech. But we, being simple people, and especially a certain
-lad, who is rapidly coming now to manhood, remember with keen delight how
-this absurd scholar had hardly finished afternoon tea before he demanded
-to see the mice, who were good enough to turn out of their nest, a mother
-and four children, and having rotated, the mother by herself, and the
-children by themselves, and each one having rotated by itself, all whirled
-round together in one delirium of delight, partly the delight of the mice
-and partly of the scholar.
-</p>
-<p>
-Having moved us all to the tears of the heart by his prayer next morning,
-for it was as the supplication of a little child, so simple, so confiding,
-so reverent and affectionate, he bade the whole household farewell, from
-the oldest to the youngest with a suitable word for each, and he shook
-hands with the servants, making special inquiry for the housemaid's
-mother, and—there is no use concealing a scholar's disgrace any more
-than another man's—he made his last call upon the Japanese mice, and
-departed bowing at the door, and bowing at the gate of the garden, and
-bowing before he entered the cab, and bowing his last farewell from the
-window, while he loaded us all with expressions of gratitude for our
-“gracious and unbounded hospitality, which had refreshed him alike both in
-body and mind.” And he declared that he would have both that hospitality
-and ourselves in “continual remembrance.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Before we retired to rest I had approached the question of his expenses,
-although I had an instinct that our scholar would be difficult to handle,
-and he had waived the whole matter as unworthy of attention. On the way to
-the station I insisted upon a settlement with the result that he refused
-to charge any fee, being thankful if his “remarks,” for he refused to give
-them the name of lecture, had been of any use for the furtherance of
-knowledge, and as regards expenses they were limited to a third-class
-return fare. He also explained that there were no other charges, as he
-travelled in cars and not in cabs, and any gifts he bestowed (by which I
-understood the most generous tips to every human being that served him in
-any fashion) were simply a private pleasure of his own. When I established
-him in the corner seat of a third-class compartment, with his humble
-luggage above his head, and an Arabic book in his hand, and some slight
-luncheon for the way in his pocket, he declared that he was going to
-travel as a prince. Before the train left an old lady opposite him in the
-carriage—I should say a tradesman's widow—was already
-explaining the reason of her journey, and he was listening with benignant
-interest. Three days later he returned the fee which was sent him, having
-deducted the third-class return fare, thanking us for our undeserved
-generosity, but explaining that he would count it a shame to grow rich
-through his services to knowledge. Some years afterwards I saw him in the
-distance, at a great public meeting, and when he mounted the platform the
-huge audience burst into prolonged applause, and were all the more
-delighted when he, who never had the remotest idea that people were
-honouring him, looked round, and discovering a pompous nonentity who
-followed him, clapped enthusiastically. And the only other time and the
-last that I saw him was on the street of a famous city, when he caught
-sight of a country woman dazed amid the people and the traffic, and afraid
-to cross to the other side. Whereupon our scholar gave the old woman his
-arm and led her carefully over, then he bowed to her, and shook hands with
-her, and I watched his tall form and white hair till he was lost in the
-distance. I never saw him again, for shortly after he had also passed over
-to the other side.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-IV.—MY FRIEND THE TRAMP
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>NE of the memorable and pitiable sights of the West, as the traveller
-journeys across the prairies, is the little group of Indians hanging round
-the lonely railway station. They are not dangerous now, nor are they
-dignified; they are harmless, poor, abject, shiftless, ready to beg or
-ready to steal, or to do anything else except work, and the one possession
-of the past which they still retain is the inventive and instinctive
-cunning of the savage, who can read the faintest sign like a written
-language, and knows the surest way of capturing his prey. One never
-forgets the squalid figure with some remains of former grandeur in his
-dress, and the gulf between us and this being of another race, unchanged
-amid the modern civilization. And then one comes home and suddenly
-recognizes our savages at our own doors.
-</p>
-<p>
-Our savage tramps along our country roads, and loafs along our busy
-streets, he stops us with his whine when no policeman is near, and
-presents himself upon our doorstep, and when he is a master of his
-business he will make his way into our house. He has his own dress,
-combining many styles and various periods, though reduced to a harmony by
-his vagabond personality. He has his own language, which is unintelligible
-to strangers, and a complete system of communication by pictures. He
-marries and lives and dies outside civilization, sharing neither our
-habits nor our ideas, nor our labours, nor our religion, and the one
-infallible and universal badge of his tribe is that our savage will not
-work. He will hunger and thirst, he will sweat and suffer, he will go
-without shelter and without comfort, he will starve and die, but one thing
-he will not do, not even to get bread, and that is work; not even for
-tobacco, his dearest treasure and kindliest support, will he do fifteen
-minutes' honest labour. The first and last article in his creed, for which
-he is prepared to be a martyr and which makes him part of a community, is
-“I believe in idleness.” He has in him the blood of generations of nomads,
-and if taken off the roads, and compelled to earn his living would likely
-die. A general law of compulsory industry would bring the race to an end.
-</p>
-<p>
-Besides his idleness he has many faults, for he is a liar to the bone, he
-is a drunkard whenever he can get the chance, he steals in small ways when
-it is safe, he bullies women if they are alone in a country house, he has
-not a speaking acquaintance with soap and water, and if he has any virtue
-it is not of a domestic character. He is ungrateful, treacherous,
-uncleanly, and vicious, to whom it is really wrong to give food, far more
-money, and to whom it is barely safe to give the shelter of an outhouse,
-far less one's roof. And yet he is an adroit, shrewd, clever, entertaining
-rascal. He carries the geography of counties in his head down to the
-minutest details which you can find on no map, knowing every mountain
-track, and forgotten footpath, every spring where he can get water, and
-the warmest corner in a wood where he can sleep. He has also another map
-in his memory of the houses with the people that dwell therein; which he
-ought to pass by, which it were a sin to neglect, which are worth trying,
-and which have changed hands. And he is ever carrying on his ordnance
-survey, and bringing information up to date; and as he and his fellows
-make a note of their experiences for those who follow after, it may be
-safely said that no one knows better either a country-side or its
-inhabitants from his own point of view than our friend the vagrant.
-</p>
-<p>
-Perhaps the struggle for existence has quickened his wits beyond those of
-his race, but at any rate our vagabond is not fettered by that solid and
-conventional English intellect which persists in doing things as our
-fathers used to do them, and will not accommodate itself to changing
-conditions. Our vagabond has certain old lines which he has long practised
-and which he is always willing to use, in suitable circumstances, such as
-the workman out of employment and tramping to another city to get a job
-because he has not money enough to pay his railway fare, or a convalescent
-just discharged from hospital and making his way home to his wife and
-children, or a high-spirited man too proud to beg, and only anxious for a
-day's work (in some employment which cannot be found within twenty miles).
-And when he plays any of these rôles he is able to assume an air of
-interesting weariness as if he could not drag one leg after the other, and
-on occasion will cough with such skill as to suggest galloping
-consumption. And poor (but proud) he only allows the truth to be dragged
-from him after much hesitation. But when those lines fail and new
-inventions are needed for new times he rises to the occasion. If there be
-a great miner's strike he goes from town to town begging money for his
-wife and children at home, and explaining the hardships of a miner's life,
-which he has diligently, although superficially, learned; and after a war
-he is a reservist who threw up a profitable job at his country's call, and
-is now penniless and starving, but still unwaveringly patriotic; and if
-there be any interest in the sea through recent storm and shipwrecks, he
-also, this man of many trials and many journeys, has been saved with
-difficulty from the waves and lost his little all. If he calls upon a
-priest, he is careful to call him “Father,” and to pose as a faithful
-Catholic; and if he be an Irishman, his brogue then becomes a fortune, but
-if he drops in upon a Minister of the Kirk he recalls the good which he
-got when sitting in the West Kirk of Paisley; and if he be so fortunate as
-to be really Scots in blood, and therefore acquainted with theology, he
-will not only deceive that minister, but even the elect themselves, I mean
-the Caledonian Society. When the vagabond comes upon a home of simple lay
-piety, he allows it to be understood that he has led a life of fearful
-wickedness but is now a genuine penitent, asking only for the means of
-gaining an honest livelihood. He is fertile in devices and brilliant in
-execution, without any prejudices against the past or present, but ever
-bringing forth from his treasury of unabashed falsehood and ingenious
-impudence things new and old.
-</p>
-<p>
-Our savage has also got, what I believe the Red Indians have not, an
-agreeable sense of humour, which no doubt is limited by practical details,
-but is in its way very captivating. What a stroke of delightful irony it
-was for a pair of our savages to take a long street between them, the man
-begging down the right-hand side, and the woman the left, while the man
-told a mournful tale of his wife's death, and asked money to get her a
-coffin that she might be respectably buried—he being poor (but
-proud) and a broken-hearted widower—as well as to clothe their two
-mourning little ones in black for the funerals, and for the woman to tell
-exactly the same story as she went down the opposite side of the street,
-except that it was her husband she was burying, and she poor (but proud)
-and a broken-hearted widow. They took no notice of one another across the
-street, and none when they completed their work at the further end, but a
-few minutes later they were sitting in the same public-house together,
-both wonderfully comforted and affording a remarkable illustration of the
-dead burying their dead.
-</p>
-<p>
-Our vagabond is a superb actor within his own province, and greatly enjoys
-a triumph in any conflict with the enemy. He was one day singing the
-“Sweet By-and-By” with such a voice and so much unctuous emotion that I
-lost patience, and broke out on him for his laziness and profanity. For a
-moment he was almost confounded, and then he assumed an air of meek
-martyrdom suggestive of a good man who had been trying to do his little
-best for the salvation of his fellow-creatures, and was being persecuted
-for righteousness sake. This was for the benefit of a simple-minded old
-gentleman who had been greatly shocked at my remarks, and now, as a rebuke
-to an ungodly and unsympathetic clergyman and an encouragement to humble
-piety, gave the vagabond a shilling. “God bless you,” he said with much
-feeling to the philanthropist, and started again the “Sweet By-and-By”!
-but before we parted he tipped me a wink over his victory, charged with
-inexpressible humour.
-</p>
-<p>
-When one of the savages honoured our humble home by calling one day as an
-incapacitated member of the Mercantile Marine and obtained half-a-crown
-from my tender-hearted wife, partly through sympathy, but also through
-alarm, because the suffering sailor proposed to exhibit the sores upon his
-legs, I knew that the tidings would be carried far and wide throughout the
-nearest tribe, our local Black-feet as it were, and that we would be much
-favoured in days to come. So we were, by other sailors, also with sores,
-by persons who had been greatly helped by my preaching in the years of
-long ago, by widow women full of sorrow and gin, by countrymen stranded
-helpless in a big unsympathetic city, till our house was little better
-than a casual ward. Then I took the matter in hand and interviewed the
-next caller, who had been long out of employment, but had now obtained a
-job and only wanted the means of living till Monday when he would be
-independent of everybody. He had spent his last penny the day before on a
-piece of bread, and had tasted nothing since. “Not even drink,” I ventured
-to inquire, for by this time the air round me was charged with alcohol,
-when he replied with severe dignity that he had been a teetotaller since
-his boyhood. Then I addressed him briefly but clearly, explaining that the
-half-crown had been given by mistake, that we were greatly obliged for the
-visit of his friends, that I had enjoyed his own call, but that it would
-save a great deal of trouble to both sides if he would only intimate to
-his fellow-tribesmen and women when they gathered round the camp fire in
-the evening that there was no more spoil to be obtained at our house. He
-looked at me, and I looked at him, and a smile came over his face. “I'm
-fly,” he said. And then as he went out at the door he turned for a last
-shot, “Look here, sir, if you give me a bob, I'll join your church, and be
-an elder in a month.” A fellow of infinite jest, and I gave him a
-shilling, but without conditions.
-</p>
-<p>
-The humour of our nomad is always practical, and when it masters him it
-sweeps all professional hypocrisy before it like a water-flood, and
-reveals the real man. Certainly quite unclothed, but also quite unashamed.
-He had told his story so artfully, with such care in detail and such
-conviction in tone, that I did believe for the moment that he was a poor
-Scot trying to get home by sea to Glasgow, together with his wife and four
-children, that he had obtained his passage-money from the Caledonian
-Society, and that he only needed a little money for food and such like
-expenses. This money I gave him somewhat lavishly, and yet not quite
-without suspicion, and he left full of gratitude and national enthusiasm.
-Three years later a man got entrance to my study on the grounds of
-Christianity and nationality, and before he addressed me directly I
-thought that I knew his voice. When he explained that he had got his
-passage to Glasgow from that noble institution, the Caledonian Society,
-but that as he had a wife and four children... I was sure we had met
-before, and I offered to do the rest of the story myself, which I did with
-such an accurate memory that he listened with keen appreciation like a composer
-to the playing of his own piece, and only added when I had finished, “So I
-did it here afore. Well, sir, ye may take my word for it, it's the first
-mistake I've made in my business.” And he departed with the self-conceit
-of the Scots only slightly chastened.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-V.—OUR BOY
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE boy must have had a father, and some day he may be a father himself,
-but in the meantime he is absolutely different from anything else on the
-face of the earth. He is a race by himself, a special creation that cannot
-be traced, for who would venture to liken his ways to the respectability
-of his father, or who would ever connect him with the grave and decorous
-man which he is to be. By-and-by, say in thirty years, he will preside at
-a meeting for the prevention of cruelty to animals, or make enthusiastic
-speeches for the conversion of black people, or get in a white heat about
-the danger of explosives in the house, or be exceedingly careful about the
-rate of driving. Meanwhile he watches two dogs settle their political
-differences with keen interest, and would consider it unsportsmanlike to
-interfere if they were fairly matched, and the sight of a black man is to
-him a subject of unfailing and practical amusement, if he can blow himself
-and a brother up with gunpowder, he feels that time has not been lost, and
-it is to him a chief delight—although stolen—to travel round
-at early morn with the milkman, and being foolishly allowed to drive, to
-take every corner on one wheel. He is skilful in arranging a waterfall
-which comes into operation by the opening of a door; he keeps a menagerie
-of pets, unsightly in appearance, and extremely offensive in smell in his
-bedroom. He has an inexhaustible repertory of tricks for any servant with
-whom he has quarrelled, and it is his pleasure to come downstairs on the
-bannisters, and if any one is looking to make believe that he is going to
-fall off and dash himself to destruction three floors below. His father is
-aghast at him, and uses the strongest language regarding his escapades; he
-wonders how it came to pass that such a boy should turn up in his home,
-and considers him what gardeners would call “a sport” or unaccountable
-eccentricity in the family. He is sure that he never did such things when
-he was a boy, and would be very indignant if you insinuated he had simply
-been a prophecy of his son. According to his conversation you would
-imagine that his early life had been distinguished by unbroken and
-spotless propriety, and his son himself would not believe for a moment
-that the pater had ever been guilty of his own exploits. The Boy is
-therefore lonely in his home, cut off from the past and the future; he is
-apt to be misunderstood and even (in an extreme case) censured, and his
-sufferings as a creature of a foreign race with all the powers of
-government against him would be intolerable had he not such a joy in
-living, and were he not sustained in everything he does by a quite
-unaffected sense of innocence, and the proud consciousness of honourable
-martyrdom.
-</p>
-<p>
-As wild animals are best studied in their native states, and are much
-restricted in the captivity of a cage, so the Boy is not seen at his best
-in a middle-class home where he is sadly fettered by vain customs
-(although it is wonderful how even there he can realize himself). When you
-want to understand what manner of creature he is, you must see him on the
-street. And the boy <i>in exedsis</i>, and <i>de profundis</i> too, is a
-message-boy.
-</p>
-<p>
-Concluding that his son has had enough of the Board School, and learning
-from his master that there was not the remotest chance he would ever reach
-a higher standard, his father brings him some morning to a respectable
-tradesman, and persuades the unsuspecting man to take him as message-boy.
-Nothing could exceed the modesty and demure appearance of the Boy, and the
-only fear is that he be too timid and too simple for his duty—that
-he may be run over by a cab or bullied upon the streets. Carefully washed
-by his mother, and with his hair nicely brushed, in a plain but untorn
-suit of clothes, and a cap set decently on his head, he is a beautiful
-sight, and he listens to his father's instructions to do what he is told,
-and his master's commandment that he is not to meddle with anything in the
-shop, in respectful and engaging silence. His father departs with a
-warning look, and his master gives him an easy errand, and the Boy goes
-out to begin life in a hard, unfriendly world, while one pities his tender
-youth.
-</p>
-<p>
-The Boy has started with a considerable capital of knowledge, gathered at
-school, and in a few weeks he is free of the streets—a full-grown
-citizen in his own kingdom, and, if you please, we will watch him for an
-hour. His master has given him some fish, and charged him as he values his
-life to deliver them at once at No. 29, Rose Terrace, and the boy departs
-with conscientious purpose. Half way to his destination he sees in the far
-distance the butcher's boy, who also has been sent in hot haste to some
-house where the cook is demanding the raw material for luncheon. They
-signal to one another with clear, penetrating, unintelligible cries like
-savages across a desert, and the result is that the two messengers
-rendezvous at the corner of Rose Terrace. What they talk about no person
-can tell, for their speech is their own, but by-and-by under the influence
-of, no doubt informing, conversation, they relax from there austere
-labours and lay down their baskets. A minute later they are playing
-marbles with undivided minds, and might be playing pitch and toss were
-they not afraid of a policeman coming round the corner. It is nothing to
-them, gay, irresponsible children of nature, that two cooks are making two
-kitchens unbearable with their indignation, for the boy has learned to
-receive complaints with imperturbable gravity and ingenious falsehood.
-Life for him is a succession of pleasures, slightly chastened by work and
-foolish impatience. As they play, a dog who has been watching them from
-afar with keen interest, and thoroughly understands their ways, creeps
-near with cautious cunning, and seizing the chance of a moment when the
-butcher's boy has won a “streaky” from the fishmonger, dashes in and
-seizes the leg of mutton. If he had been less ambitious and taken a chop,
-he would have succeeded, and then the boy would have explained that the
-chop had been lost in a street accident in which he was almost killed, but
-a leg of mutton is heavy to lift and a boy is only less alert than a dog.
-The spoil is barely over the edge of the basket, and the dog has not yet
-tasted its sweetness, before the boy gives a yell so shrill and fearsome
-that it raises the very hair on the dog's back, and the thief bolts in
-terror without his prey. The boy picks up the mutton, dusts it on his
-trousers, puts it back in the basket, gives the fishmonger a playful punch
-on the side of the head, to which that worthy responds with an attempted
-kick, and the two friends depart in opposite directions, whistling, with a
-light heart and an undisturbed conscience.
-</p>
-<p>
-If any one imagines that the boy will now hurry with his fish, he does not
-understand the nature of the race and its freedom from enslaving rule. A
-few yards down Rose Terrace he comes upon the grocer's boy and the two
-unearth a chemist's boy, and our boy produces a penny dreadful, much tom
-and very fishy, but which contains the picture of a battle swimming in
-blood, and the three sit down for its enjoyment. When they have fairly
-exhausted their literature the boy receives his fee, as the keeper of a
-circulating library, by being allowed to dip his finger carefully wetted
-before into a bag of moist sugar, and to keep all that he can take out,
-and the grocer's boy is able to close up the bag so skilfully that the
-cook will never know that it has been opened. From the chemist he receives
-a still more enjoyable because much more perilous reward, for he is
-allowed to put his mouth to the spout of a syphon and, if he can endure,
-to take what comes—and that is the reason why syphons are never
-perfectly full. It occurs to the chemist at this moment that he was told
-to lose no time in delivering some medicines, and so he departs
-reluctantly; the conference breaks up, and it seems as if nothing remained
-for the boy but to deliver the fish. Still you never know what may happen,
-and as at that moment he catches sight of a motor-car, it seems a mere
-duty to hurry back to the top of the terrace to see whether it will break
-down. It does of course, for otherwise one could hardly believe it to be a
-motor-car, and the boy under what he would consider a call of providence,
-hastens to offer assistance. Other boys arrive from different quarters,
-interested, sympathetic, obliging, willing to co-operate with the
-irritated motor-man in every possible way. They remain with him
-twenty-five minutes till he starts again, and then three of them accompany
-him on a back seat, not because they were invited, but because they feel
-they are needed. And then the boy goes back to Rose Terrace and delivers
-the fish, stating with calm dignity, that he had just been sent from the
-shop and had run all the way.
-</p>
-<p>
-Things are said to him at the house by the cook, who is not an absolute
-fool, and things may be said to him by his master at the shop, who has
-some knowledge of boys, but no injurious reflection of any kind affects
-the boy. With a mind at leisure from itself he is able to send his empty
-basket spinning along the street after a lady's poodle, and to accompany
-this attention with a yell that will keep the pampered pet on the run for
-a couple of streets to the fierce indignation of its mistress. And the
-chances are that he will foregather with an Italian monkey boy, and
-although the one knows no Italian and the other knows no English, they
-will have pleasant fellowship together, because both are boys, and in
-return for being allowed to have the monkey on his shoulder, and seeing it
-run up a waterpipe, he will give the Italian half an apple which comes out
-of his pocket with two marbles and a knife attached to it. If he be
-overtaken by a drenching shower, he covers his head and shoulders with his
-empty basket, sticks his hands in his pockets, and goes on his way singing
-in the highest of spirits, but if the day be warm he travels on the steps
-of a'bus when the conductor is on the roof, or on a lorry, if the driver
-be not surly. If it be winter time, and there be ice on the streets, he
-does his best, with the assistance of his friends, to make a slide, and if
-the police interfere, with whom he is on terms of honourable warfare, he
-contents himself with snowballing some prudish-looking youth, who is out
-for a walk with his mother. All the same he is not without his ambitions
-in the world, and he carries sacred ideals in the secret of his heart. He
-would give all that he possesses,—five lurid and very tattered
-books, a penknife with four blades (two broken), nineteen marbles (three
-glass), and a pair of white mice—to be the driver of a butcher's
-cart. The boy is a savage, and although you may cover him with a thin
-veneer of civilization he remains a savage. There is a high-class school
-for little boys in my district, and those at a distance are driven home in
-cabs that they may not get wet in winter weather and may not be
-over-fatigued. A cab is passing at this moment with four boys, who have
-invited two friends to join them, and it is raining heavily. Two boys are
-on the box seat with the driver, and have thoughtfully left their topcoats
-inside in case they might get spoiled. There is a boy with his head out at
-either window addressing opprobrious remarks to those on the box-seat, for
-which insults one of them has just lost his cap, the other two are
-fighting furiously in the bottom of the cab, and will come out an abject
-spectacle. For you may train a dog to walk on its hind legs, and you may
-tame a tiger, but you cannot take the boyness out of a boy.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-VI.—A RESIDUARY
-</h2>
-<h3>
-I
-</h3>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>XCEPTIONS may be allowed in theory, at least, but the rule stands
-impregnable in reason and practice, that a wife should have the absolute
-control of the household, and that no male person should meddle, even as
-an irresponsible critic, with the servant department. There are limits to
-the subjection of the gentler sex which reserves the right to choose its
-acts of homage to the titular head of the family. Can anything be
-prettier, for instance, than the deference which women of very pronounced
-character will show to their husbands in some affairs? “Nothing would have
-given me greater pleasure than to have taken a stall at your charming
-bazaar, but my husband absolutely forbids me, and you know what a tyrant
-he is about my health,” or “You really must not ask my opinion about the
-Eastern Question, for I am shockingly ignorant of politics, but my husband
-knows everything, and I have heard him say that the Government has been
-very weak.” It would not, however, be wise for this favoured man to
-trespass too far on the almost Oriental deference of his wife, or hastily
-to suppose that because his word was useful in saving her from the
-drudgery of an unfashionable bazaar or the weary drone of a conversational
-bore, his was a universal infallibility. This sweet spirit of passive
-obedience will not continue if a rash man should differ from the house
-manager on the technical merits of a servant, for he will then be told
-that his views on all such matters are less than nothing and vanity.
-</p>
-<p>
-No man knows, nor ever expects to know, what women talk about after they
-have left the dining-room in stately procession and secluded themselves in
-the parliament of the drawing-room; but it may be guessed that the
-conference, among other things, reviews the incredible folly of mankind in
-the sphere of household affairs. How it will not give the head of the
-family one minute's serious concern that the cook feeds her kinsfolk with
-tit-bits in the kitchen, provided that his toast be crisp and his
-favourite dish well cooked. How he would any day give a certificate of
-character to the housemaid, if he were allowed to perpetrate such an
-absurdity, simply and solely on the ground that his bath was ready every
-morning, and his shaving-water hot, while he did not know, nor seem to
-care, that the dust was lying thick in hidden corners. How he would excuse
-the waitress having a miscellaneous circle of admirers, provided she did
-not loiter at the table and was ingenious in saving him from unwelcome
-callers. They compare notes on the trials of household government; they
-comfort one another with sympathy; they revel in tales of male innocence
-and helplessness, till they are amazed that men should be capable of even
-such light duties as fall on them in their daily callings, and are
-prepared to receive them kindly as they enter the room with much
-diffidence and make an appeal by their very simplicity to a woman's
-protecting care.
-</p>
-<p>
-John Leslie was devoted to his very pretty and very managing wife, and had
-learned wisdom, so that he never meddled, but always waited till his
-advice was invited. Like other wise husbands, he could read his wife's
-face, and he saw that afternoon, two days before Christmas, as soon as he
-entered the drawing-room, that there had been trouble in the household.
-His kiss was received without response; her cheeks had the suggestion of a
-flush; her lips were tightly drawn; and there was a light in her eyes
-which meant defiance. She stated with emphasis, in reply to a daily
-inquiry, that she was perfectly well, and that everything had gone well
-that day. When she inquired why he should suppose that anything was wrong,
-he knew that it had been a black storm, and that the end thereof was not
-yet.
-</p>
-<p>
-“By the way, Flo,”—and Leslie congratulated himself on avoiding
-every hidden rock,—“I've completed my list of Christmas presents,
-and I flatter myself on one downright success, which suggests that I have
-original genius.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Do you mean the picture of Soundbergh School for Jack?” said Mrs. Leslie
-coldly. “I daresay he will be pleased, although I don't believe that boys
-care very much for anything except for games and gingerbread cakes; they
-are simply barbarians”; and as Leslie knew that his wife had been
-ransacking London to get a natty portable camera wherewith Jack might take
-bits of scenery, his worst-weather guess seemed to be confirmed.
-</p>
-<p>
-“No, no, that was obvious, and I believe Jack will be fearfully proud of
-his picture,” replied Leslie bravely; “but I was at my wit's end to know
-what to get for old Margaret. You see, I used to give her pincushions and
-works of art from the Thames Tunnel when I was a little chap, and I bought
-her boas and gay-coloured handkerchiefs when I came up at Christmas from
-Oxford, and you know since she left the old home and settled with us
-eighteen years ago we have exhausted the whole catalogue.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You have, at least”; and having no clue, Leslie was amazed at his wife's
-indifference to the factotum and ruler of the household, whom the junior
-servants were obliged to call Mrs. Hoskins—“Mrs.” being a title of
-dignity, not of marriage—or Cook at the lowest, and who was called
-everything by her old boy John Leslie and his son Jack, from Maggie to
-Magsibus, and answered to anything by which her two masters chose to name
-her.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Oh, you have been as keen as any one in the family about Magsy's
-present,”—and Leslie still clung to hope,—“but I've walked out
-before you all. What do you think of a first-class likeness of Spurgeon in
-an oak frame, with his autograph? You know how she goes on about him, and
-reads his sermons. It 'ill be hung in the place of honour in the kitchen,
-with burnished tin and brass dishes on either side. Now, confess, haven't
-I scored?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“If you propose to put your picture on her table on Christmas morning, I
-fear you will be a day late, for Margaret has given up her place, and
-asked to be allowed to leave to-morrow: she wants to bid Jack good-bye
-before she goes,” and Mrs. Leslie's voice was iced to twenty degrees below
-freezing.
-</p>
-<p>
-“What do you mean?” cried Leslie, aghast, for in all his dark imaginations
-he had never anticipated this catastrophe. “Maggie! our Meg! leaving at a
-day's notice! It's too absurd! You've... had a quarrel, I suppose, but
-that won't, come to anything. Christmas is the time for... making up.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You do not know much about household management, John,” Mrs. Leslie
-explained with much dignity. “Mistresses don't quarrel with servants,
-however much provoked they may be. If I have to find fault, I make a rule
-of doing so quickly and civilly, and I allow no reply. It was Margaret
-flung up her place with very unbecoming language; and you may be sure this
-time there will be no 'making up,' as you call it.
-</p>
-<p>
-“What happened, Florence?” said John Leslie, with a note in his voice
-which a woman never treats with disrespect. “You know I do not interfere
-between you and the young servants, but Margaret has been with us since we
-married, and before that was for sixteen years in my father's house. We
-cannot part lightly; did she speak discourteously to you?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I do not know what a man may call discourtesy, but Margaret informed me
-that either she or the housemaid must leave, and that the sooner the
-housemaid went the better for the house.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“But I thought that the housemaid was a Baptist too, and that Margaret and
-she got on capitally, and rather looked down on the waitress because she
-was a Methodist.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“So they did for a time, till they found out that they were different
-kinds of Baptists, just imagine! They had such arguments in the kitchen
-that Lucy has had to sit in her pantry, and last evening Margaret called
-the housemaid a 'contracted Baptist,' and she said Margaret was a 'loose
-Baptist.' So Margaret told me that if she was a 'loose Baptist,' it was
-not good for the housemaid to stay in the house with her; and if I
-preferred a woman like that, she would go at once, and so she is going.”
- “When men break on theology in the smoking-room,” remarked Leslie, “the
-wise go to bed at once, and two women—and one of them old Margaret—on
-the distinctions among the Baptist denomination must be beyond words and
-endurance. It is natural that places should be given up, but not necessary
-that the offer should be accepted. What did you say to Margaret,
-Florence?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“That she had secured the dismissal of five servants already within three
-years: one because she was High Church; a second because she was no
-Church; that big housemaid from Devon for no reason I could discover
-except that she ate too much, as if we grudged food; the last waitress
-because she did not work enough, as if that concerned her; and the one
-before because she had a lover Margaret did not approve, and that I did
-not propose to lose a good housemaid because she was not the same sort of
-Baptist as Margaret.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It is very nice and romantic to talk about the old family servant,”
- continued Mrs. Leslie with a vibrant voice, “and I hope that I have not
-been ungrateful to Margaret, but people forget what a mistress has to
-suffer from the 'old family servant,' and I tell you, John, that I can
-endure Margaret's dictation no longer. She must leave, or... I must”; and
-when his wife swept out of the room to dress for dinner, Leslie knew that
-they had come to a crisis in family life.
-</p>
-<h3>
-II
-</h3>
-<p>
-“How are you, mummy?” and Jack burst in upon the delighted household
-gathered in the hall with a trail of loosely packed luggage behind him,
-and a pair of skates he had forgotten to pack altogether, round his neck.
-“I say, that's a ripping dress you have on. Cusack, our house 'pre,' says
-yours is the prettiest photo he ever saw. You're looking fit, pater, but
-you must come a trot with me, or you'll have a pot soon. Jolly journey?
-Should rather think so! dressed old Swallow up in a rug, and laid him out
-on a seat; people thought he had small-pox, and wouldn't come in; four of
-us had the place to ourselves all the way: foxey, wasn't it? Cold, not a
-bit. We shoved every hot-water pan in below the seats, and the chaps put
-more in at every stop, till we had eight in full blast.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Look out, cabby, and be kind to that hamper with my best china. What is
-it? Oh, that's some really decent booze for the festivities—three
-dozen Ripon stone ginger; and there's a dozen among my shirts. Can't get
-that tipple in the South. How are you, Lucy and Mary? I've got a pair of
-spiffing caps for you; do for church if you like. But where is the
-youthful Marguerite? She used to be always dodging round, pretending that
-she was just passing by accident. Dinner ready? All right; I'm pretty
-keen, too. Tell Magsibus I'll be down after dessert with a brimming bowl
-of stone ginger.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Hello, old lady! As you didn't come up to welcome the returning prodigal
-at the door, he's come down to give you his blessing. It's all right, Mag,
-I was only fooling. You daren't have taken your eye off that pudding one
-minute, I know. It was A 1; best thing you ever did, and awfully good to
-have it for the first night.
-</p>
-<p>
-“That gingerbread you sent took the cup this term, and no second. Fellows
-offered to do my lines for me, and sucked up to me no end just to get a
-slice. Ain't that the tin up there you make it in? Chap next study had a
-thing he called gingerbread—feeblest show you ever saw—burnt
-crust outside and wet dough inside.
-</p>
-<p>
-“There's the old brass jam-pan, Peg, ain't it? Do you remember when Billy
-Poole and I used to help at the boiling, and get the skim for our share?
-Billy's won a scholarship at Cambridge; youngest chap to take it, and is a
-howling Greek swell, but you bet he hasn't forgot that hot jam. Not he;
-was asking for you last week. I'll get him here next autumn before he goes
-up, and we'll have a jam blow-out.... What's wrong, Magsy?
-</p>
-<p>
-“Don't blub. Tell me who's been hitting you. Is it those two young fools?
-The mater will soon settle their hash. Here's my handkerchief. There, now
-you're all right, ar'n't you?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It's really silly of me, Master Jack, and I ought to be ashamed of
-myself, at my age too, but it was you speaking of next year. I thought
-perhaps your mother had told you that... I am leaving tomorrow.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Going to leave us and your home?” and Jack sat down on the kitchen table
-in stark amazement. “Where would you go to, Magsy? Why, you nursed me when
-I was a kid, and you knew the pater when he was a fellow at school. Why,
-you couldn't get on without us, and, look here, this circus can't be
-worked without you.
-</p>
-<p>
-“If you don't feel fit for the cooking,—and it must be a beastly
-stew over the fire,—mother'ill get another hand, and you'll just
-order her round and have a good time.” But Margaret sat with sad,
-despairing eyes, looking straight before her, and making no sign.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You couldn't do it, Magsibus,” and the lad came over and put his arm
-round her; “it would be too mean. Didn't you promise to wait and start
-house with me, the same as you did with father? and now you calmly
-announce that you are going to set up for yourself, and be a lady. Oh, you
-treacherous, wicked woman!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Master Jack, I have not a relative living, and I couldn't go to another
-place—I've been too long with one family—four-and-thirty years—and
-I don't know what I'll do without the sight of you, for my heart has no
-portion outside this house on earth; but I must go, I cannot do otherwise,
-I must go.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You see, I'm getting old, dear, and I've been so long here that I forget
-it's not my own house—God knows that I would die for you all—and
-I have a temper, and I shall be... a trouble and not a help. Your mother
-has been a good mistress to me, and been kinder to me than I have been to
-her. I'll pray for you all as long as I live, and I would like to... see
-you sometimes; but I must go, Master Jack, I must go.”
- </p>
-<h3>
-III
-</h3>
-<p>
-“It seems to me, Flo,” and Leslie stretched out his legs in the warmth,
-“the chief good of easy circumstances is being able to afford a wood fire
-in one's bedroom,—that and books. Do you remember that evil-smelling
-oil-stove in our little house at Islington? By the way, did I tell you
-that I ran out one afternoon last week, when I had an hour to spare, and
-paid an outside visit to our first home. It looked rather forlorn, and so
-small and shabby.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It was the dearest little house when we lived in it, John,” and Mrs.
-Leslie saw wonderful things in the firelight; “and when you were at the
-office I used to go from room to room, arranging and dusting and
-admiring.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes, but you also had the most toothsome evening meals ready at eight
-p.m. for a struggling colonial broker, and used to dress perfectly, and
-did it all on next to nothing.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Two hundred and twenty-two pounds five shillings and threepence—that,
-sir, was the first year's income. Don't you remember making up the book,
-and finding we had thirty pounds over; but, then, Jack, we had... a
-perfect servant.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Poor Margaret! what an interest she took in our daring enterprise! By the
-way, your memory is better than mine, wife: didn't we tell her how the
-balance stood, and she was the best pleased of the three?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“'Praise God!' she cried, 'I knew, Mr. John, you did right to trust and to
-marry, and some day I'll see you in a big house, if God will'; and then
-you told her to bring up her missionary box and you gave her a sovereign,
-and when she put it in, her hand was shaking for joy. Her temper has got
-masterful since she grew old, and she is aggravating; but I know she's a
-good woman.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes, Meg wouldn't have left us if we had been down on our luck: I believe
-she would have seen us through and gone without wages”; and Leslie spoke
-with the tone of one hazarding a wild speculation.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You believe, John!” clever women are sometimes befooled. “Why, have you
-forgotten that winter when you lost so heavily, and it looked as if we
-would have to go into rooms, how Margaret wanted to go out cooking to help
-the family, and she would have done it had not things taken a turn?
-Whatever be her faults,—and she has been provoking,—she is a
-loyal soul.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, we only had one bad illness, Flo, and I'll never forget the
-mornings when I came from my lodgings and stood on the street, and you
-told me what kind of night Jack had had, and the days when I toiled at the
-office, and you fought scarlet fever at home. You were a brave woman—without
-a nurse, too.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Without what—for shame, John!—when Maggie sat up all night
-and worked all day, and was so clever that the doctor said she had saved
-Jack's life—well, perhaps be admitted that I helped, but she did
-more than I could—I would rather have let twenty housemaids go than
-see Maggie leave, John, if she had given me the chance.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Margaret always had a temper, Flo, even in the old days when I was a boy,
-and now she's fairly roused.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It isn't temper at all now, John, or I would not be so vexed: it's her
-goodness which will drive her out in the end, and she'll never know one
-day of happiness again. She told me to-night that she was sure that there
-would always be trouble between her and the other servants, and as she had
-tried to serve us well when she was younger she would not make our home
-unhappy in her old age. Jack pleaded with her, and I—I nearly cried;
-she was quite affected, too, but she is immovable.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, we can do no more, and you mustn't blame yourself, Flo: it has just
-been a smash; and if she does go, we must see that she be made comfortable
-in her last years. But I wish old Margaret were not leaving us on
-Christmas Eve. Jack is very sick about it, and I rather suspect that he
-was crying when I looked into his room just now; but he pretended to be
-asleep, and I couldn't insult a fellow in the fifth form with remarks.”
- </p>
-<h3>
-IV
-</h3>
-<p>
-When the Leslies set up house, eighteen years before, Margaret received
-them on their return from their ten days' wedding tour in the Lake
-District, and she was careful to ask in the evening whether Mr. John would
-like prayers before or after breakfast next morning. She also produced a
-book of family prayers, which she had purchased in anticipation of the
-sole difficulty which is understood to prevent the majority of male
-householders from having worship in their homes, and asked her young
-master and mistress to accept it from her. So it came to pass that owing
-to Margaret there were always morning prayers at the Leslies'; and in
-observance of a custom begun when there were just the three in the little
-house of Islington, fighting the battle of life together, the chapter was
-read round, each person taking one verse in turn. To-night Leslie divided
-his time between short snatches of sleep, when he dreamt of funerals in
-which Margaret departed sitting beside the driver of the hearse, while a
-mourning coach followed with her luggage on the roof, and long periods of
-wakefulness when he regarded next morning's prayers with dismay. Was there
-a special prayer for a servant leaving her household after eighteen—no,
-thirty-four years' faithful duty; and if there was not, could he weave in
-a couple of sentences among the petitions? At half-past six he was certain
-that he could not, and was ashamed at the thought that with that well worn
-prayer-book of Margaret's before him he would allow her to depart without
-a benediction, when he was visited quite suddenly, he declares, with the
-most brilliant inspiration of his life. He leaped from bed and lit the gas
-in hot haste, as poets are said to do when the missing word to rhyme with
-Timbuctoo flashes upon the mind.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Florence, please tell me something”; and Mrs. Leslie saw her husband
-standing by her bed in poorly concealed excitement. “Where are those words
-that were sung at the sacred concert: 'Intreat me not to leave thee'? I
-want to know at once; never mind why. Ruth? Thanks so much,” and the noise
-he made in his bath was audible through the wall, and was that of a man in
-hot haste.
-</p>
-<p>
-When Mrs. Leslie came down, her husband had a marker in the Bible
-projecting six inches, and was checking certain calculations on a sheet of
-paper with much care.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Morning, Jack—slept well—not very? That's right, I mean I'm
-very sorry, must have been the pudding. Not there, for any sake; sit here,
-and, let me see—Florence, where are you wandering to? Take this
-chair. Six, seven, eight... seventeen, yes, that's Margaret. Now ring the
-bell.” And Mrs. Leslie could only look at Leslie in silence, while Jack
-felt that the firmament was being shaken that day, and one catastrophe
-more did not matter.
-</p>
-<p>
-“We shall read,” said the head of the household in a shaky voice, “from—eh—the—eh—Book
-of Ruth, the first chapter and the sixth verse”; and as soon as his wife
-saw the passage she understood, and so did Margaret.
-</p>
-<p>
-Round the circle went the verses—Leslie very nervous lest he should
-have miscalculated—till Jack read:
-</p>
-<p>
-“'And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following
-after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I
-will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.'”
- </p>
-<p>
-Then it came to Margaret, and she began bravely, but soon weakened: “Where
-thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried... the Lord do so to
-me, and more also, if ought but death... part...”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Let us pray,” said Leslie; and it is his fixed belief that, having lost
-the place, he read the prayer for the close of the year and making an
-attempt to right himself landed in a thanksgiving for the gift of a
-new-born child; but nobody is certain and nobody cared.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I ought to go,” said Margaret, standing very white by the sideboard after
-the other servants had left the room, “and it would be better for you all,
-whom I love, that I should go; but... I cannot, I can...”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Dear old Magsibus,” and Jack had her round the waist before she could say
-“not” again, or even explain, as she did afterwards, how good a woman the
-housemaid was, and how much she would miss her; and as Mrs. Leslie thought
-of the days they had been together, the saving the lad from death and many
-another deed of loyal, ungrudging service, she did that which was contrary
-to every rule of household discipline. But Leslie could not have seen his
-wife kiss Margaret, for his back was turned, and he was studying the
-snow-covered garden with rapt attention.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-VII.—A RACONTEUR
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>OU must excuse me the gaucherie of a compliment,” I said to Bevan in the
-smoking-room, after a very pleasant dinner, “but you have never been more
-brilliant. Five stories, and each a success, is surely a record even in
-your experience.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It is very good of you to appreciate my poor efforts so highly. I felt it
-a distinct risk to attempt five in one evening—six is the farthest
-limit sanctioned by any raconteur of standing. You can always distinguish
-an artist from a mere amateur by his severe reserve. He knows that an
-anecdote is a liqueur, and he offers it seldom; but the other pours out
-his stuff like vin ordinaire, which it is, as a rule, the mere dregs of
-the vine. Did you ever notice how a man will come back from Scotland in
-autumn, and bore companies of unoffending people with a flood of what he
-considers humorous Scottish stories? It is one of the brutalities of
-conversation. What irritates me is not that the material is Scottish, for
-there are many northern stories with a fine flavour; it is the fellow's
-utter ignorance of the two great principles of our art.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Which are?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Selection and preparation,” said Bevan, with decision. “One must first
-get good stuff, and then work it into shape. It is amazing how much is
-offered and how little is of any use. People are constantly bringing me
-situations that they think excellent, and are quite disappointed when I
-tell them they are impossible for the purposes of art. Nothing can be done
-with them, although of course another artist in a different line might use
-them. Now I have passed several 'bits' on to Brown-Johnes, who delivers
-popular lectures. The platform story is scene-painting, the after-dinner
-miniature.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“May I ask whether you are ever taken in, as it were, with your material,
-and find it 'give' after it has been manufactured, like rotten yarn or
-unseasoned wood?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Rarely; one's eye gets to be trained so that you know a promising subject
-at sight, but then comes the labour. I've heard a man bore a dinner-table
-to the yawning point with a story that had some excellent points in it,
-but he had taken no trouble, perhaps had no insight.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“And you succeeded with it...?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It is, in my humble judgment, as good a story of its kind now as you
-would wish to hear, and it bears improvement, which is a good sign. A
-really high-class story will take years to perfect, just as I am told by
-clergymen that a sermon only begins to go after it has been preached
-twenty times.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You have been working on that Shakespeare bit, by the way; I noticed at
-least one new touch this evening which was excellent.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Now that is very gratifying,” and Bevan was evidently pleased; “it is a
-great satisfaction to have one's work appreciated in an intelligent
-manner; perhaps you are the only one present who saw any difference.
-</p>
-<p>
-“What I think I like best”—and he tapped his snuff-box in a
-meditative way—“is to get an old, decayed, hopeless story, and
-restore it. Breaking out a window here, adding a porch there, opening up a
-room, and touching up the walls—it is marvellous what can be done.
-Besides new drains,” he added, with significance, “the sanitary state of
-some of those old stories is awful. You feel the atmosphere at the door—quite
-intolerable, and indeed dangerous.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Then you do not think that indecency...?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“No, nor profanity. Both are bad art; they are cheap expedients, like
-strong sauces to cover bad cooking. It sounds like boasting, but I have
-redeemed one or two very unpleasant tales, which otherwise had been
-uninhabitable, if I may trifle again with my little figure, and now are
-charming.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You rather lean, one would gather, to old tales, while some of the
-younger men are terrified of telling a 'chestnut,' always prefacing, 'This
-must be well known, but it is new to me; say at once if you have heard
-it.'”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Most humiliating, and quite unworthy of an artist. Heard it before!” and
-the old gentleman was full of scorn. “Imagine a painter apologizing for
-having taken a bend of the Thames or a Highland glen some man had used
-before. Of course, if one makes a copy of a picture and exhibits it as his
-own, that is fraud, and the work is certain to be poor. One must respect
-another artist's labour, which is the ground of his copyright. But if one
-makes a 'bit' of life as old as Aristophanes or Horace his own, by passing
-it through his own fancy and turning it out in his own style, then it is
-ever new. Then there is the telling! There are musicians who can compose,
-but who cannot play, and <i>vice versâ</i>. So with our art, there are
-story-tellers and story-makers. The former can suffer no wrong, for they
-are self-protected, but the latter have never been protected as they
-deserve in the fruit of their brains. You will see at once that, if I am
-right, the ownership of an anecdote is quite beyond dispute. The original
-material is really for the most part common property, and usually very
-poor property—prairie land, in fact. Personal rights come in when
-one has put capital into the land, has cleared and ploughed and sown it;
-then it's his own, and he is entitled to fence it, and he cannot be
-dispossessed except on fair terms.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Which would be?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, that depends. He might sell to an editor, or he might give the use
-of it to a friend. Personally, as an artist of now thirty years' standing,
-I do not part with my work; it may be an old-fashioned prejudice, but I
-don't like to let it go to the public.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“But to a friend?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Of course that is different; still, how few can be trusted. Now I once
-gave Higginbotham a very nice little thing of French extraction, but not
-too subtle, with just enough body to suit our palate. He beard me tell it
-three times in exactly the same form, and I pledged him to make no
-changes, for his hand is heavy. Would you believe me?”—and my friend
-sat up in his indignation—“he gave it in my presence—but that
-did not matter—and left out the best point, which I now think he had
-never seen. Life has various trials in store for us as times go on,” and
-Bevan leant back again. “Some are greater, some are less, but among our
-minor vexations I know none like sitting at one end of a table and making
-talk with your partner, while a rank amateur at the other end mangles one
-of your pet anecdotes.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Torture, I should think; but isn't it rather trying when people miss the
-point altogether or ask stupid questions?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Artists must take their chance of that, and one is careful; besides, I've
-distinctly enjoyed such remarks,” and he looked quite genial. “It's like a
-painter hearing the people criticize the pictures on a free day. Once or
-twice I've got a very happy addition to a story in that way. After all,
-the main end of a raconteur must be to give pleasure. Yes”—and he
-began to glow—“no art is wholesome which lives for itself or for a
-professional class. Art must be a criticism of life and an aid to better
-living. No one can tell how much story-telling has contributed to the
-brightness and elevation of life. How? By correcting foibles, by
-explaining human nature, by destroying cant, by infusing good humour, by
-diminishing scandal, by—but I remind myself that a raconteur ought
-never to be excited or eloquent. He may, however, be a philanthropist, as
-it would appear. Do you know,” with a tone of great delight, “that I was
-once asked by a physician to call upon one of his patients, a mutual
-friend, and spend an hour with him, as a... tonic, in fact. It was after
-influenza, and the convalescent began by asking me whether I would
-distribute a sum of money among the poor. 'I'm not sure what I'm dying of;
-either peritonitis or pneumonia, but I'm glad to see you, Bevan, and you
-will do this little kindness for me'—those were his affecting words.
-'Certainly,' I said, and that led me to give him a trifle from Devonshire—excellent
-place for stories—which seemed to interest him. I only told four
-stories—for he was rather weak, having had a slight touch of
-bronchitis—and he is pleased still to thank me,” and Bevan nodded
-with much satisfaction.
-</p>
-<p>
-As I looked at him, so filled with the pride of his art, the time seemed
-to have come for a question that had long been in my mind. But it was
-necessary to be careful.
-</p>
-<p>
-“What, may I ask, Mr. Bevan, do you feel about the matter of... well, you
-won't misunderstand me... of accuracy?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You mean whether is there any difference between giving evidence in a
-witness-box and relating an anecdote. Everything. The one is a land
-surveyor's plan, and must be correct to an inch. The other is a picture,
-and must interpret nature. The one is a matter of fact, the other a work
-of art. Imagine the folly”—and the good man rose to his feet—“if
-one should demand to know whether the figures in a historical painting
-stood exactly so and were dressed in those particular colours; we should
-think the man mad. A story is a miniature novel, shot through with humour,
-a morsel of the irony of things, a tiny comedy, and for it there is but
-one rule of judgment—does it represent the spirit of life?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“What then do you think of one who should certify an anecdote as a fact?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“That he did not know his craft, for if the tale has no merit, then it is
-little compensation to tell us it happened; if it has merit, we are sure
-it ought to have happened.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“And if one should interrupt a raconteur as he approached his point, and
-should inquire whether the thing be true?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I am a merciful man,” said the venerable artist, “but my conviction is
-that he ought to be shot.”
- </p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-VIII.—WITH UNLEAVENED BREAD
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">R</span>ABBI SAUNDERSON, minister of Kilbogie, had been the preacher on the fast
-day before Carmichaele's first sacrament in the Glen, and, under the full
-conviction that he had only been searching out his own sins, the old man
-had gone through the hearts of the congregation as with the candle of the
-Lord, till Donald Menzies, who had all along suspected that he was little
-better than a hypocrite, was now fully persuaded that for him to take the
-sacrament would be to eat and drink condemnation to himself, and Lauchlan
-Campbell was amazed to discover that a mere Lowland Scot like the rabbi
-was as mighty a preacher of the law as the chief of the Highland host. The
-rabbi had been very tender withal, so that the people were not only
-humbled, but also moved with the honest desire after better things.
-</p>
-<p>
-Although it was a bitter day, and the snow was deep upon the ground, the
-rabbi would not remain over-night with Carmichael. Down in Kilbogie an old
-man near fourscore years of age was dying, and was not assured of the way
-everlasting, and the rabbi must needs go back through the snow that he
-might sit by his bedside and guide his feet into the paths of peace. All
-that night the rabbi wrestled with God that it might be His good pleasure
-to save this man even at the eleventh hour; and it was one of the few joys
-that visited the rabbi in his anxious ministry, that, before the grey
-light of a winter morning came into that lowly room, this aged sinner of
-Kilbogie had placed himself within the covenant of grace.
-</p>
-<p>
-While he was ministering the promises in that cottage, and fighting a
-strong battle for an immortal soul, Carmichael had sent away his dogs, and
-was sitting alone in the low-roofed study of the Free Kirk manse, with the
-curtains drawn and the wood fire lighting up the room—for he had put
-out the lamp—but leaving shadows in the corners where there were no
-books, and where occasionally the red paper loomed forth like blood.
-</p>
-<p>
-As the rabbi preached that day, the buoyancy and self-confidence of youth
-had been severely chastened, and sitting in the manse pew, curtained off
-from the congregation, the conscience of the young minister had grown
-tender. It was a fearful charge to lay on any man, and he only
-four-and-twenty years of age, the care of human souls; and what manner of
-man must he be who should minister unto them after a spiritual sort the
-body and blood of Jesus Christ? How true must be his soul, and how clean
-his hands! For surely, if any man would be damned in this world, and in
-that which is to come, it would be the man who dispensed the sacrament
-unworthily.
-</p>
-<p>
-As he sat in the firelight the room seemed to turn into a place of
-judgment. Round the walls were the saints of the Church Catholic, and St.
-Augustine questioned him closely regarding the evil imagination of
-youthful days, and Thomas à Kempis reproached him because he had so often
-flinched in the way of the holy cross. Scottish worthies whose lives he
-had often read, and whose sayings had been often quoted from the pulpit,
-sat in judgment upon him as to his own personal faith and to his own ends
-in the ministry. Samuel Rutherford, with his passionate letters,
-reproached him for his coldness towards Christ; and MacCheyne's life,
-closed in early manhood, and filled with an unceasing hunger for the
-salvation of human souls, condemned him for his easy walk and
-conversation; and Leighton, the gentlest of all the Scotch saints, made
-him ashamed of bitter words and resentful feelings. And from the walls the
-face of his mother's minister regarded him with wistful regret, and seemed
-to plead with him to return to his first love and the simplicity of his
-mother's faith.
-</p>
-<p>
-The roof hung heavy over his head, and the walls took a deeper red, while
-the burning logs reminded him of the consuming fire. An owl hooted outside—a
-weird and mournful cry—and to the mind of a Celt like Carmichael it
-seemed to be a warning to set his house in order. He crossed to the
-window, which faced west, and commanded a long stretch of Glen, and,
-standing within the curtain, he looked out upon the clear winter night.
-How pure was the snow, putting all other white to shame! How merciless the
-cold light of the moon, that flung into relief the tiniest branches of the
-trees! “Holiness be-cometh thine house, O Lord, for ever.” And he was a
-minister of the Word and sacrament! The people had been called unto
-repentance, but he needed most of all the contrite heart. The people had
-been commanded to confess their sins; it were time that he began.
-</p>
-<p>
-He knelt at his table, bending his head over the very place where he wrote
-his sermons, and as he prayed before God the sins of early years came up
-before him, and passed as in a woful procession—ghosts which had
-risen from their graves, in which they had long been hid beneath the green
-grass and the flowers. There remained nothing for him but to acknowledge
-them one by one with shame and confusion of face, and behold! as he did
-so, and humbled himself before the Lord, they vanished from his sight till
-he hoped that the last of them had come and gone. When it seemed to him as
-if one had lingered behind the rest, and desired to see him quite alone,
-and when the shroud fell down, he looked into the face of one who had been
-his friend in college days, and then he knew that all which had gone
-before was only a preparation, and this was now his testing time.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was a mighty college to which Carmichael had belonged, and the men
-thereof had been lifted high above their fellows, and among them all there
-had been none so superior as this man who was once his friend. Some he
-looked down upon because they were uncouth in manner; and some because
-they were deficient in scholarship; and others, who were neither ill-bred
-nor unlearned, he would have nothing to do with because they had not the
-note of culture, but were Philistine in their ideas of art and in their
-ignorance of “precious” literature.
-</p>
-<p>
-In spite of all this foolishness, the root of the matter was in Frederick
-Harris. No man had a keener sense of honour, no man was more ready to help
-a fellow-student, none worked harder in the mission of the college, none
-lived a simpler life. Yet because he was without doubt a superior person,
-even beyond all other superior persons—and the college was greatly
-blessed with this high order of beings—certain men were blind to his
-excellences, and cherished a dull feeling of resentment against him; and
-there were times when Carmichael dared to laugh at him, whereat Harris was
-very indignant, and reproached him for vulgar frivolity.
-</p>
-<p>
-One day a leaflet was found in every class-room of the college, and in the
-dining-hall, and in the gymnasium, and in every other room—even, it
-is said, in the Senate-room itself. Its title was, <i>A Mighty Young Man</i>,
-and it was a merciless description of Harris in verse, from the crown of
-his head to the sole of his foot, in all his ways and words—coarse
-and insulting, but incisive and clever. He was late in entering the Hebrew
-class-room that morning, and was soon conscious that the students were
-interested in other things besides the authorship of the Pentateuch.
-Opposite him lay the poem, and, after he had read the first verse, his
-face turned to a fiery red, and then he left the class-room with much
-dignity.
-</p>
-<p>
-It had been better for himself, and it would have saved much sorrow to
-Carmichael, if Harris had treated the poem with indifference; but, like
-many other people who allow themselves the luxury of despising their
-fellow-creatures, he was morbidly sensitive when his fellow-creatures
-turned on him. For some reason, known only to himself, he concluded that
-Carmichael had written the poem, and demanded an apology with threats; and
-Carmichael, who had thought the thing in very poor taste, and would have
-been willing to laugh at it along with Harris, was furious that he should
-have been supposed guilty of such a breach of friendship. So, being a
-Celt, who acts by impulse rather than by reason, he told Harris in the
-Common Hall that, if he supposed that he had written the sheet, he was at
-liberty to do so, and need not expect either a denial or an apology.
-</p>
-<p>
-They never spoke again, nor met except in a public place, and when
-Carmichael was ordained minister in the Glen, Harris joined a mission
-settlement in one of the lowest quarters of a southern city.
-</p>
-<p>
-From time to time Carmichael read greedily of his heroic service, and the
-power which he was acquiring—for he had never been haughty with poor
-people, but ever with them most gentle and humble. Again and again it had
-been laid on Carmichael to write to his old friend, and express regret for
-his pride, and assure him of his innocence in the matter of the squib, but
-he thought that Harris ought first to write to him, and then, if he did,
-Carmichael meant to telegraph, and invite his friend to come up to the
-Glen, where they would renew the fellowship of former days. But Harris
-gave no sign, and Carmichael had no need to telegraph.
-</p>
-<p>
-Carmichael rose from his knees, and opened a drawer in his writing-table,
-and from below a mass of college papers took out a photograph. The
-firelight was enough to show the features, and memory did the rest. They
-had once shared rooms together, and a more considerate chum no man could
-have. They had gone on more than one walking tour together, and never once
-had Harris lost his temper; they had done work together in a mission
-school, and on occasion Harris had been ready to do Carmichael's as well
-as his own; they had also prayed together, and there was no pride in
-Harris when he prayed.
-</p>
-<p>
-What were his faults, after all? A certain fastidiousness of intellect,
-and an unfortunate mannerism, and a very innocent form of
-self-approbation, and an instinctive shrinking from rough-mannered men—nothing
-more. There was in him no impurity, nor selfishness, nor meanness, nor
-trickiness, nor jealousy, nor evil temper. And this was the man—his
-friend also—to whom he had refused to give the satisfaction of an
-explanation, and whom he had made to suffer bitterly during his last
-college term. And just because Harris was of porcelain ware, and not
-common delf, would he suffer the more.
-</p>
-<p>
-He had refused to forgive this man his trespass, which was his first
-transgression against him, and now that he thought of it, hardly to be
-called a transgression. How could he ask God to forgive him his own
-trespasses? and if he neither forgave nor was forgiven, how dare he
-minister the sacrament unto his people? He would write that night, and
-humble himself before his friend, and beseech him for a message, however
-brief, that would lift the load from off his heart before he broke bread
-in the sacrament.
-</p>
-<p>
-Then it came to his mind that no letter could reach that southern town
-till Saturday morning, and therefore no answer come to him till Monday,
-and meanwhile who would give the people the sacrament, and how could he
-communicate himself? For his own sin, his foolish pride and fiery temper,
-would fence the holy table and hinder his approach. He must telegraph, and
-an impression took hold upon his heart that there must be no delay. The
-clock in the lobby—an eight-day clock that had come from his
-mother's house, and seemed to him a kind of censor of his doings—struck
-three, for the hours had flown in the place of judgment, and now the
-impression began to deepen that there was not an hour to be lost. He must
-telegraph, and as the office at Kilbogie would be open at five o'clock to
-dispatch a mail, they would send a wire for him. It would be heavy walking
-through the snow, but the moon was still up, and two hours were more than
-enough.
-</p>
-<p>
-As he picked his way carefully where the snow had covered the ditches, or
-turned the flank of a drift, he was ever grudging the lost time, and ever
-the foreboding was deeper in his heart that he might be too late, not for
-the opening of Kilbogie post-office, but for something else—he knew
-not what. So bravely had he struggled through the snow that it was still a
-quarter to five when he passed along sleeping Kilbogie; and so eager was
-he by this time that he roused the friendly postmaster, and induced him by
-all kinds of pleas, speaking as if it were life and death, to open
-communication with Muirtown, where there was always a clerk on duty, and
-to send on to that southern city the message he had been composing as he
-came down through the snow and the woods:
-</p>
-<p>
-“It was not I. I could not have done it. Forgive my silence, and send a
-message before Sunday, for it is my first sacrament in Drumtochty.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Your affectionate friend,
-</p>
-<p>
-“John Carmichael.”
- </p>
-<p>
-It was still dark when he reached the manse again, and before he fell
-asleep he prayed that the telegram might not be too late, but as he
-prayed, he asked himself what he meant, and could not answer. For the Celt
-has warnings other men do not receive, and hears sounds they do not hear.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was noon next day, the Saturday before the sacrament, and almost time
-for the arrival of the preacher, before he awoke, and then he had not
-awaked unless the housekeeper had brought him this telegram from “Mistress
-Harris, St. Andrew's Settlement, Mutford, E.”:
-</p>
-<p>
-“My son Frederick died this morning at eight o'clock of malignant fever.
-He was conscious at the end, and we read your telegram to him. He sent
-this message: 'Long ago I knew it was not you, and I ought to have
-written. Forgive me, as I have forgiven you. My last prayer is for a
-blessing upon you and your people in the sacrament to-morrow. God be with
-you till we meet at the marriage supper of the Lamb!'”
- </p>
-<p>
-The text which Carmichael took for his action sermon on the morrow was,
-“Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them who trespass against us,”
- and he declared the forgiveness of sins with such irresistible grace that
-Donald Menzies twice said “Amen” aloud, and there are people who will
-remember that day unto the ages of ages.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-IX.—OUR FOREIGN MANNERS
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>F a student of life will only take his stand in the hall of one of those
-Swiss caravansaras which receives a trainful of Britons about six o'clock
-some evening in August and despatches them on their way by Diligence next
-morning, he will not lose his time, for he will have an opportunity of
-studying the foreign manners of his nation. The arrival of an Englishman
-of the John Bull type is indeed an event, and the place is shaken as by a
-whirlwind. A loud, clear, strident voice is heard sounding in the English
-tongue to the extremities of the hall, demanding that its owner be
-instantly taken to the rooms—“First floor,” I said, “with best view,
-according to the telegram sent yesterday,” refusing every explanation as
-to there being none disengaged, insisting that, somehow or other, rooms of
-that very kind be offered, and then grumbling its way upstairs, with an
-accompaniment in the minor key from a deprecating landlord, till a distant
-rumble dying away into the silence closes the incident. The landlord has
-reluctantly admitted that he has rooms on the second floor, better than
-any other in the house, which are being kept for a Russian prince, and if
-Monsieur will accept them for the night—and then Monsieur calls his
-wife's attention to the fact that when he put his foot down he gets his
-way. One does not, of course, believe that the landlord said what was
-absolutely true, and one would have been delighted had he plucked up
-courage and shown our compatriot to the door. But nothing is easier (and
-more enjoyable) than to point out how other people ought to conduct their
-affairs, and no doubt, were we Swiss innkeepers, needing to make a year's
-profit out of three months, we also would have taken rampant Englishmen by
-guile, as bulls are lassoed with ropes. Your heart would be adamant if you
-did not pardon the poor little device when our national voice is again
-raised in the dining-room ordering away a plate on account of an invisible
-smut, complaining of the wine because of a bit of cork, comparing the beef
-with the home roasts, and enlarging on a dozen defects in bedroom service
-to sympathetic spirits right and left, and, for that matter, as far as the
-voice can reach. In England that voice will give it to be understood that
-it could not be heard amid the chatter of noisy foreigners “gabbling away
-goodness knows what,” but as a matter of fact no combination of German,
-French, and Italian could resist the penetrating, domineering, unflinching
-accent. When that host bows the voice into an omnibus next morning with
-great politeness, then one has an illustration of the spread of the
-Christian spirit enough to reinforce the heart in the hours of blackest
-pessimism.
-</p>
-<p>
-Would a foreigner believe that the owner of this terrible voice is really
-one of the best? He is the soul of honour, and would cut off his hand
-rather than do a mean deed; his servants adore him, though he gives them
-what he calls a round of the guns once a week; and the last thing he did
-before leaving home was to visit an old gamekeeper who taught him to shoot
-the year he went to Harrow. When a good man preaches the charity sermon,
-this unsympathetic Englishman is quite helpless, and invariably doubles
-the sum set aside in his waistcoat pocket. Upon the bench he is merciless
-on poachers and tramps; in private he is the chosen prey of all kinds of
-beggars. In fact, he is in one way just what he specially detests—a
-sham—being the most overbearing, prejudiced, bigoted, the most
-modest, simple-minded, kind-hearted of men; and, in spite of that
-unchastened voice, a gentleman from the crown of his head to the sole of
-his foot. Certainly he ordereth over much, but he will take care that
-every servant has a reward before he leaves—going back from the
-omnibus to tip “that fellow with the green apron” who did some trifle for
-him last night—and if the landlord had only had the discernment to
-have described that accident to him, the driver's widow would have been
-richer by fifty francs.
-</p>
-<p>
-The blame of our foreign manners is partly geographical. We happen to be
-bom in an island, and our amazing ideas about continentals are being very
-slowly worn away by travel. It is just breaking on the average Briton
-that, although a foreigner does not splash in his bath of a morning so
-that neighbouring rooms can follow the details of his toilette, he may not
-be quite uncleanly; that one need not hide all his valuables beneath his
-pillow because the other three men in his compartment of the wagon lit do
-not speak English; that an Italian prince is not always a swindler, but
-may have as long a pedigree as certain members of the House of Lords; and
-that the men who constructed the Mont Cenis and St. Gothard tunnels must
-at least have understood the rudiments of engineering science. The puzzled
-expression on our countryman's face when he discovers that the foreigner
-can give us points—in conveyance of luggage, for instance, or the
-making of coffee, or in the small agriculture—goes to your heart. It
-seems to him a surprise on the part of Providence, and a violation of the
-favoured nation's clause.
-</p>
-<p>
-Perhaps it ought also to be said in our defence that we are afflicted by
-the infirmities of a ruling people. We are not only profoundly conscious
-that we are an invincible nation ourselves, but also are saturated with
-the belief that we have a commission to govern other nations. Our talents
-are mostly exercised in India and Africa, but if one reigns absolutely
-anywhere, he carries himself as a king everywhere, and the ordinary
-Englishman annexes any place he fancies in holiday time because his
-fathers have been appropriating provinces from time immemorial. One
-sometimes falls a prey to the Philistine that is in us all, and begins
-also to despise what our friend pleasantly calls “all this scraping and
-bowing,” by which he means a Frenchman's politeness in little things, and
-is tempted to think that it would be better if local government on the
-Continent were relieved of a burden of petty rules and a host of gorgeous
-officials, and were reinforced by a strong infusion of downright common
-sense. One means, in plain words, that if a foreign district were handed
-over to an English stipendiary magistrate and a score of London policemen,
-its people would learn for the first time the scope and meaning of good
-government.
-</p>
-<p>
-Many well-doing Englishmen cannot unto this day achieve a single
-grammatical sentence in any language except their own, and are free from
-all pretensions. Our rector stoutly declares that in his popular lecture,
-“To Paris and back, or a Glimpse of French Life,” he did not cite the
-familiarity of Parisian children with French as a proof of the precocity
-of foreigners, but he can never watch two Frenchmen in conversation
-without innocent enjoyment. The sounds they make are marvellous, but it is
-beyond question that they mean something, and it is pleasant to know that
-persons who cannot speak English are not left without means of
-communication. Foreigners, an Englishman remembers, labour under hopeless
-disabilities. Little can be expected from a people whose language permits
-a sentence—in a scientific book too—to end with “zu, ab,” and
-one may not be Pharisaic and yet have gloomy views—this illustration
-can be used in the pulpit—about a nation that has no word for home.
-One of our French class at school, a stout gentleman now, and worth
-£100,000, declares he would never demean himself by any attempt at foreign
-tongues, and demands that foreigners should learn English, “which will yet
-be the language of the world.” He was recently boasting that he had
-travelled a month by the aid of signs, although he does himself less than
-justice, for on sight of the railway station he will say “Bannhof, eh?” to
-the driver in quite a jocular way, as one by way of pleasing a four-footed
-pet.
-</p>
-<p>
-Tittups, on the other hand, who reached the confines of the future tense
-with Moossy, and who affects culture, is understood to have an easy
-acquaintance with at least three Continental tongues in their more
-literary forms—colloquialisms he firmly refuses—and is worth
-hearing in a Florentine shop. “Avete voi” (Tittups is a little man, with a
-single eyeglass, and a voice three sizes too large for him); “ah... what
-you call... ah, papier und... ah, ein, that is eine Feder,” goes through a
-panto-mine of writing, and finally obtains what he wants by pointing it
-out with his stick. He is fond of enlarging on the advantage of reading
-Italian, and insists that no translation has ever conveyed the grander
-ideas of Dante, although Tittups admits that the ancient Italian tries
-him. “Have to work at it, you know; but the modern, a boy who knows his
-grammar can manage it. Seen the <i>Giomate di Roma</i> to-day?” Italians
-have a keener insight into character than any people in Europe, and one
-could almost pardon the attendant in the Mediterranean sleeper who
-insisted that Tittups must be a native-born Tuscan from the way he said
-“baga-glia.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Gli,” Tittups mentioned casually to a friend, is a test in Italian
-pronunciation, and he presented the discerning critic with a five-franc
-piece at Calais.
-</p>
-<p>
-But why should the average man laugh at Tittups, as if he had never had
-experiences? Has he never been asked by his companion, to whom he has been
-an oracle on German literature, to translate some utterly absurd and
-unnecessary piece of information posted on the carriage, and been humbled
-in the dust?
-</p>
-<p>
-“Oh,” he said, quite carelessly, “something about not leaving the train
-when it is in motion—zug, you know.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Pardon, mein Herr” (voice from the opposite side—what business had
-he to interfere?) “but the rule, when it has into English been translated,
-shall read———” and it turns out to be a warning not to
-stop the train without “plausible” reasons. Nothing is more disconcerting
-(and offensive) than to discover that the two imperturbable Germans in
-your carriage understand English perfectly, after you have been expressing
-your mind on German habits with that courtesy and freedom which are the
-prerogative of the Briton abroad. And can anything be more irritating and
-inexplicable than to find one's painfully accumulated store of foreign
-words ooze away in the crisis of travel, so that a respectable British
-matron, eager to be driven by the sea road at Cannes, is reduced to
-punching cocher in the small of the back with her parasol and shouting
-“eau de vie”—“and he drew up at a low public-house, as if we had
-been wanting a drink”—while her husband just escapes an apoplectic
-seizure, utilizing the remnants of three languages to explain his feelings
-as a Custom-house officer turns the contents of his portmanteau upside
-down.
-</p>
-<p>
-It is not wise, however, for avaricious foreigners to trade upon our
-simplicity, for there is always a chance that they may catch a Tartar.
-Never have I seen a more ingenuous youth (in appearance) than one who
-travelled with me one night from Geneva to Paris. His unbroken ignorance
-of Continental ways, which opposed (successfully) the introduction of more
-than four persons into our second; his impenetrable stupidity, which at
-last saved him from the Customs; his unparalleled atrocities on the French
-language, seemed to precede him on the line and suggest opportunities of
-brigandage. They charged him eighteen francs for his supper at a place
-where we stopped for nearly twenty minutes, and would likely have
-appropriated the remaining two francs out of the Napoleon he offered, but
-the bell sounded, and he bolted, forgetting in his nervousness that he had
-not paid. The garçon followed, whom he failed to understand, and three
-officials could not make the matter plainer. When the public meeting
-outside our door reached its height there were present the station-master,
-seven minor officials, two gendarmes in great glory, a deputation of four
-persons from the buffet, an interpreter whose English was miraculous, and
-a fringe of loafers. Just as the police were about to do their duty our
-fellow passenger condescended on French—he had preferred English
-words with foreign terminations up to that point. His speech could not
-have exceeded three minutes, but it left nothing to be desired. It
-contained a succinct statement of facts—what he had eaten, and how
-much each dish cost; what he was charged, and the exact difference between
-the debt and the demand; an appeal to the chef de gare to investigate the
-conduct of the buffet where such iniquities were perpetrated on guileless
-Englishmen; and lastly a fancy sketch of the garçon's life, with a
-selection of Parisian terms of abuse any two of which were enough to
-confer distinction for a lifetime. He concluded by offering three francs,
-forty-five cents, as his just due to the manager of the buffet, and his
-thanks to the audience for their courteous attention.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I am an Englishman by birth,” he explained to a delighted compartment,
-“but Parisian by education, and I think this incident may do good.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Certainly it has often done one man good, and goes excellently with
-another where imagination reinforces memory with happy effect. One had a
-presentiment something was going to happen when two devout ladies secured
-their places in the Paris express at Lourdes, and before they entered
-placed the tin vessel with water from the sacred well on the floor of the
-compartment. It was certainly unfortunate that they did not keep it in
-their arms till the precious treasure could be deposited in the rack.
-Lourdes pilgrims would recognize the vessel even in its state of temporary
-humiliation, but there was a distinct suggestion of humbler uses, and an
-excited Englishman must not be hardly judged.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Here you are, dear,” he shouts to his wife, guarding the rugs; “plenty of
-room, and a hot water pan for your feet.”
- </p>
-<p>
-They all got in together—two Parisian ladies, who (likely) could not
-speak a word of English, and our fellow patriot, who was (likely) as
-ignorant of French. And the tin vessel.
-</p>
-<p>
-Did they lift it with reverence and fold it in many wraps, and did he
-fight for its possession? Are they still describing the wanton impiety of
-this heretic? and has he a conclusive illustration of the incredible folly
-of our neighbours? Perhaps, after all, they knew each other's tongues, and
-then nothing happened; but surely there must have been circumstances, and
-I, with a spare moment at my disposal occasionally, refused to be robbed
-of that interior.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-X.—NILE VIEWS
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>F one has only three weeks' holiday, and desires sunshine for his body,
-let him spend the time upon the Riviera, where he will get a few degrees
-higher temperature and a little more sunshine than in Cornwall—with
-worse food and a more treacherous climate—and if he rather desires
-inspiration for his mind, let him go to Florence; but in any case let him
-understand that there is no place in Europe where one can get equal good
-both for mind and body, and no place where one can escape winter. Upon
-this matter doctors dream dreams and invalids fondly talk against facts,
-for the cold in Florence, say, in the month of February, is quite
-monumental for its piercing quality, and bad weather on the Riviera is
-more cheerless than a wet day in the West Highlands, since in the latter
-case you can get a decent fire during the day, and in the evening you may
-have a sunset to remember for life. If, however, through any conjunction
-of favourable circumstances, a man has six weeks at his disposal in winter
-time (it is not likely he will have this very often in the present vale of
-tears), then let him take his courage in both his hands, and go to the
-Nile. Suppose he had three months, and were a good sailor, then he ought
-to join a P. and O. liner at London, and go the long sea voyage, for there
-is a chance, even in December or January, that he might have summer
-weather on the fickle Mediterranean, and—such things have happened—across
-the Bay. But with half that, time his plan is to go by the special boat
-express to Marseilles, and join his steamer there for Port Said; or, if he
-be hopelessly in fear of the sea, and wishes to save every hour for Egypt,
-to take the Brindisi mail, and cross to Port Said by one of the two
-passenger torpedo boats which make the passage between Italy and Egypt in
-about forty-eight hours either over the sea or through it.
-</p>
-<p>
-Until it has been completely rebuilt after Western fashions, and electric
-trolley cars are running down a widened Mooskee, and the men have given up
-the tarboosh and the women their veil, Cairo will always fascinate a
-European by its Eastern atmosphere. Sitting on the verandah before his
-hotel, and looking over the heads of a herd of dragomen, guides, pedlars,
-and beggars, he will see a panorama pass. A Pasha's carriage, with a
-running footman in front, and the great man within, mourning the
-restraints of European government; a camel from the outlands laden with
-fresh green grass; a water-seller with his leather barrel upon his back; a
-company of Egyptian soldiers, marching admirably, and looking as if they
-could go anywhere; working women in dark blue, with only their eyes
-visible, which are said to be the single beautiful feature they possess; a
-closed carriage, with two ladies of a great man's harem; a miscellaneous
-crowd of sellers of many articles, shouting their goods, and workmen of
-many trades carrying things they have made; a Bedouin from the desert in
-his white flowing robes, tall and stately, and a Nubian as black as ebony
-from up country, with people of all shades between white and black, and in
-all colours; here and there a European tourist looking very much out of
-place in his unsightly garments, and a couple of Highland soldiers looking
-as if the whole place belonged to them. And if one desires to bathe in the
-life of the place, then he can spend a day drifting up and down the
-Mooskee, plunging down side alleys, attending native auctions, watching
-street dramas, bargaining in bazaars, and visiting mosques; but the wise
-man who is seeking for rest will not abide long in Cairo. Its air is close
-and not invigorating, its smells innumerable and overpowering, its social
-occupations wearisome and exacting, and its fleas larger, hungrier, more
-impudent, and more insinuating than those of any other place I have ever
-known. When the visitor has seen the citadel—and sunset from the
-citadel is worth the journey to Cairo—and half a dozen of the
-grander mosques, and the Pyramids and the great Museum of Egyptian
-Antiquities, then, although it may be difficult to resist the delightful
-hospitality of the English community, military and civil, the traveller
-had better start by the Nile for Upper Egypt.
-</p>
-<p>
-Nothing surely can be so restful as life on a Nile boat, where one lies at
-his ease upon the deck with some book like <i>Pyramids in Progress</i> in
-his hand, and watches the procession along the banks of men, women, and
-children, donkeys, camels, cattle, and occasionally horses, which goes on
-from Cairo to Assouan, and, so far as I know, to Khartoum, and looking
-into the far distances of the desert, across the strip of green on either
-side of the river, and listening to the friendly sound of the water wheels
-which distribute the Nile through the parched ground, and then standing to
-see the blood-red sunset fade into orange and green and violet, while the
-river turns into that delicate and indescribable colour which, for want of
-some other word, is known as water-of-Nile. The river itself takes hold of
-the imagination, whose origin has been a historical mystery, on whose rise
-and fall the welfare of a country depends, which carries the fertility of
-Egypt in its bosom, and on which nations depend for their very life. No
-wonder it runs as a blue streak through the frescoes in the tombs, and is
-never away from the thoughts of the painters, for the Nile runs also
-through the life of the people. It is the great highway up which the
-native boats sail their skilful course driven by the north wind, down
-which they drop laden with produce or pottery. It gives them the soil they
-till, which is rich enough to bear twelve harvests a year, if crops could
-be ripened in a month. Upon its banks the people sit as at their club;
-they bring down their cattle to water at it, they wash in the Nile, both
-themselves and their clothes, they swim and dive in the Nile as if they
-had been bom in it, and they drink its thick, brown, sweet water with such
-relish that a native Egyptian resents the idea of a filter because it
-takes away from him the very joy of taste, and laughs at the idea of
-danger from his loved Nile, which may give typhoid fever to Western
-tourists, but will never do any injury to its own children.
-</p>
-<p>
-After sugar cane and doora, the chief product of the steaming, prolific
-Nile valley is the Fellaheen, who are not the descendants of the ancient
-Egyptians, a lineage justly claimed by the Copts, but who are the Egyptian
-people of to-day. The Fellah is the absolute creature of his environment,
-an offspring of Nile mud, and when he is working on his field, in the
-garments nature gave him, can hardly be distinguished from the soil. He is
-brown, well-built, enduring, with perfect teeth and excellent health. His
-home is a mud hut, with one room where he and his family eat, and another
-where they sleep, and a courtyard inhabited by the livestock of goats,
-donkeys, cocks and hens, pigeons, and a dog. It is thatched with palm
-branches or doora straw, and on the roof the dog will promenade in the
-daytime with great dignity, and from the roof, when the moon is shining,
-and thoughts occur to his mind, he will express himself to the other
-seventy-six dogs of the village who are on their roofs, and are also moved
-to speech, with the result that no European can sleep in the vicinity. Add
-a few vessels and mats by way of furniture to the inside of the hut, and
-build a mud jar on the top of the courtyard wall where the baby of the
-family can be put in safety, and the household equipment of the Fellah is
-complete. He is very ignorant, is not very keen about his religion, has no
-principles, except a habit of industry and a keen sense of property, and
-he has not one comfort or luxury of civilization, and not one political or
-national ambition. But he has all the clothes he needs, which certainly is
-not very much; he has plenty to eat, and for drink the endlessly
-delightful Nile water; he is very seldom cold, and he has sunshine from
-January to December, and from morning to night. Thanks to England, he is
-no longer dragged away to work upon canals and public enterprises without
-wages and without food, and to perish through toil and disease as his
-father did, but is now paid and cared for when working for the community.
-He is no longer in terror of the lash, and he is not robbed by his rulers;
-he gets justice at the courts, and is now being delivered from the hands
-of the money-lender, that terror of the East, by the excellent national
-bank which has been recently established, and which advances him money on
-reasonable terms. We pity him as we pass, toiling at his shadoof, or
-coming like a rabbit out of his burrow, because he works so hard and lives
-so plainly, and has no books and no vote, and no glass in his windows, and
-no cheap trips. But perhaps we had better reserve our pity for the home
-land. One does not see in the Arab village the ignoble squalor of a town
-slum, nor the dreary, hopeless poverty, nor the evil look of degraded
-people, nor the miserable intemperance. The Fellah does not stand very
-high in the evolution of society, and neither his wife nor his child is
-particularly fortunate; one would not wish to be a Fellah, but, at any
-rate, he does not know the pinch of want, he is on good terms with
-everybody, he has a ready joke, which perhaps it is better you do not
-understand, and a quick smile; he is a well-fed and contented animal.
-</p>
-<p>
-The Fellah can be studied near at hand in your donkey boy, who is simply a
-Nile peasant quickened by contact with Europeans. Within five minutes he
-sizes you up with unerring judgment, and knows whether he can get
-baksheesh from you by annoyance, or will fare better by leaving you in
-peace; whether he can do as he pleases with you in the matter of speed, or
-whether it will be better to do as you tell him. Once you are on good
-terms with him—have learned the name of the donkey, approved the
-donkey's excellence and his own, and settled whether you are going to race
-or not—he settles down to make the journey agreeable both for
-himself and you. He will make jests about every little incident, join in
-the chorus of English songs, give information, such as he can, on
-antiquities, and delight to teach you Arabic. Suppose you have a long wait
-somewhere, and time is dragging, two of the junior donkey boys will
-improvise a play. They will get up a fight, and after cuffing one another
-in a way that would almost deceive you into the belief that they were
-serious, one will knock the other down, and the fallen hero will look as
-dead as Rames es the Great. A crowd will gather round him, lifting a leg
-or an arm, which falls heavily to the ground, raising his head, which
-rolls helplessly to the side. Horrified, they will then look at one
-another, and shake their heads; they will cover the dead man's face, and
-proceed to carry him home. By-and-by they will have a funeral, and convey
-the corpse to the cemetery with wailing and weeping, and after it has been
-solemnly laid to rest there will be a rapid and delightful resurrection.
-The mourners will turn a set of somersaults with extraordinary rapidity,
-the murderer and his victim will give a gymnastic exhibition, and then the
-whole company, having raised an enthusiastic hip, hip, hurrah! in applause
-for their own drama and as a genial tribute to the Anglo-Saxon race, will
-stand opposite you in a body with the most solemn countenance and demand
-baksheesh.
-</p>
-<p>
-Like other folk, the donkey boys have their own trials, and I am still
-sorry for Hassan, who attended me for four days at Luxor, and with whom I
-became very friendly. His donkey was called Telephone, and was very
-strong, handsome, and well caparisoned, and had, indeed, only one vice,
-and that was that he would not go slowly, although the thermometer stood
-at 130 degrees in the sun, but insisted on leading the procession. Hassan
-had just married, and was never weary of describing the beauty and
-goodness of his sixteen-year-old bride, and he was greatly lifted when I
-sent home to her by his own hand a present of a silk headdress—I
-think at least that was what the silk would be used for—such as I
-was assured by a native friend the young women of that ilk greatly loved.
-Hassan parted with me in high spirits when I went up the river, and I
-promised that, on my third visit to Egypt, which will likely never take
-place, I would ride no other donkey but “Telephone,” and have no other
-footman but Hassan. And then tidings reached me at Assouan that the poor
-bridegroom had been drawn for the army. For thirteen years he would have
-to serve, partly in the regular forces, partly in the police, and for half
-the time he would be entirely separated from his wife, and perhaps for it
-all, and at the thought thereof and the terror of the army, and the
-unknown places and duties before him, there was great lamentation in
-Hassan's little home. So Hassan is by this time being drilled at Cairo,
-and soon will be a smart soldier in the Egyptian army; but up at Luxor his
-young wife will be mourning for him, and, alas! for an Eastern woman, she
-will be aged before Hassan returns. This is the shadow which hangs over
-the life of a Fellah.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XI.—THE RESTLESS AMERICAN
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>ANY Americans were good enough to call upon me before I had the pleasure
-of visiting their country, and many Americans have called since, and no
-American ever does me this honour without charging the very atmosphere of
-my study with oxygen, and leaving an impression of activity which quickens
-my slow pulses and almost reduces me to despair.
-</p>
-<p>
-It is now several years ago that a tall, thin, alert man followed his card
-into my study with such rapidity that I had barely time to read it before
-my visitor was in the room.
-</p>
-<p>
-“My name is Elijah K. Higgins, and I am a busy man. You are also busy and
-have no time to fool away. Four days is all I can give to the United
-Kingdom, and I wished to shake hands with you. Good-bye, I am off to
-Drumtochty.”
- </p>
-<p>
-I calculate that Mr. Higgins spent thirty seconds in my study, and left
-the room so swiftly that I overtook him only at the front door. When I
-asked him if he knew where Drumtochty was, “Guess I do!” he said. “Got the
-route in my pocket, north-west from Perth, N.B.,” and in two seconds more
-he was whirling away in a fast hansom. As I returned to my study and
-imagined my visitor compassing Great Britain (I think he excluded Ireland,
-but I am not certain) in four days, I was for a moment roused from the
-state of comparative lethargy which we, in England, call work, and added
-six more engagements to my afternoon's programme. For days afterwards, and
-as often as I was tempted to rest in my chair, the remembrance of that
-whirlwind gave me a shock of new vigour. Sometimes a reaction would
-follow, and I humbly thanked Providence, although that was to write myself
-a weakling and a sluggard, that I was not bom in the country where Mr.
-Higgins lived and was at home.
-</p>
-<p>
-Such lively experiences, which I often recall in jaded moments, prepare
-one for a visit or a re-visit to America, as a tonic gives a sluggish
-person an appetite for dinner, and it is bare justice to say that one's
-expectations of American energy in its own home have not been
-disappointed. If Americans, depressed by our heavy climate and our
-leisurely life, could yet maintain such a level of thought and motion,
-what might not be possible to them in their own country, where the
-atmosphere is charged with electricity, and every second man is a “hustler
-from way-back.” The stir of the New World affects the visitor and quickens
-his pulses as he goes up the Hudson and gets his first glimpse of New
-York. Your steamer had waited four hours at Queenstown for the mails, but
-the same mails were transferred to the United States tender as the steamer
-steams up the bay. Little tugs dart about on all sides with feverish
-speed, and larger steamers pass with their upper machinery indecently
-exposed, as if there had not been time, or it had not been worth while, to
-cover it. Buildings of incredible height line the shores, and suggest that
-the American nation, besides utilizing the ground, proposes also to employ
-the heavens for commercial purposes. It was, I think, a Texas paper which
-translated the austere saying, “<i>Per aspera ad astra</i>,” into “the
-hustler gets to heaven,” and certain New York builders seem now to be on
-the way. Whetted by this overture on the river, one is ready for the full
-music of the city; and I wish to pay the compliment with all honesty that
-New York, with the possible exception of Chicago, is the activest and
-noisiest place I have ever seen, or expect to see, in this present world.
-While an English merchant saunters down to his office between nine and
-ten, a New York man rises at half-past six in his suburb and is busy at
-work at eight o'clock. The Englishman takes off an hour during the day for
-luncheon at his club, while the American eats his meal in fifteen minutes.
-The Englishman spends more than another hour at afternoon tea, and gossip
-with friends, and sauntering about between his club and his office, while
-the American packs every minute with work. The very walk of an English
-merchant, slow, dignified, self-satisfied, and that of the American,
-rapid, eager, anxious—the one looking as if time were of no
-importance nor circumstances, and the other as if the loss of a minute
-might mean ruin—are the visible indices to the character of the
-nations. It is only yesterday that elevators were introduced into English
-city buildings, and there are many London offices to which you still have
-to make an Alpine ascent of four stairs; but a New Yorker regards a stair
-as a survival of barbarism, and hardly knows how to use it. The higher
-buildings have several sets of elevators, like the four tracks which
-railways lay down to work the swift and slow traffic.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Don't go in there,” my friend said, with whom I was going to lunch at a
-club on the top floor of a many-storied New York building. “That's an
-accommodation elevator; stops, you know, at every station. This is the
-express for the top floor.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Would it have made much difference?” I said.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Very nearly a minute,” as if the loss of the minute would have thrown us
-back for the rest of the day.
-</p>
-<p>
-No man goes slow if he has the chance of going fast, no man stops to talk
-if he can talk walking, no man walks if he can ride in a trolley car, no
-one goes in a trolley car if he can get a convenient railway, and
-by-and-by no one will go by railway car if he can be shot through a
-pneumatic tube. No one writes with his own hand if he can dictate to a
-stenographer, no one dictates if he can telegraph, no one telegraphs if he
-can telephone, and by-and-by, when the spirit of American invention has
-brought wireless telegraphy into thorough condition, a man will simply sit
-with his mouth at one hole and his ear at another, and do business with
-the ends of the earth in a few seconds, which the same machine will copy
-and preserve in letter books and ledgers. It is the American's regret that
-at present he can do nothing with his feet while he is listening at the
-telephone, but doubtless some employment will be found for them in the
-coming age.
-</p>
-<p>
-If a slow-witted and slow-moving Englishman desires a liberal education,
-let him take a journey of a month on the steam cars in the United States.
-No train in Europe travels as fast as certain American expresses, and if
-other trains go slower it is a matter of thankfulness, because they are
-less likely to kill passengers on level crossings, or in the main streets
-of the city along which they take their way, and cattle have more time to
-get off the unprotected tracks. As trains have also a trick of jumping the
-rails, either through the rails spreading or the eccentricity of the
-engine, both being instances of exuberant national vitality, it is just as
-well that every express does not go at the rate of the Empire State
-Express on the New York Central. Nowhere in Europe can a traveller find
-stronger or handsomer cars, and they are marvels of adaptability and
-convenience. There is a dining car, in order that you may not lose time at
-a station, and also, which is not unimportant, in order that you may be
-able to occupy your time with something practical on the train. Of course,
-there is a smoking compartment, where men can compare notes upon politics
-and business, and be able to escape from idleness and themselves. The best
-expresses have a reading car, where the American can pick up such morsels
-of information from the magazines as he can contain between the
-interstices of business. There is a desk where he can read his letters,
-and a typewriter to answer them, for this train is the American's
-sleep-ing-place and dining-place, and his home and his office. One thing
-only he regrets; the train, as it flies along, is not connected with the
-telegraph and the telephone, so that, as an idea occurs to him or he
-obtains a hint from a man in the smoking car, he might be able to do
-business with his correspondents in Chicago or San Francisco. While an
-Englishman on a railway journey is generally dressed in roughly and
-loosely fitting tweeds, suggestive of a country life and of sport, the
-coat of his American cousin is of dark material and has not a superfluous
-inch of cloth. From his collar to his neat little boot the American is
-prim, spick-and-span, and looks as if he had come out of a band-box and
-were ready to appear in the principal room of any office. He is dressed in
-fact for business, and looks like business from the crown of his head to
-the sole of his feet, while an Englishman's appearance suggests that he is
-going to see a cricket match or that he has retired to live upon a farm.
-</p>
-<p>
-My countryman arrives at the station with two and a half minutes to spare,
-and laden with small baggage. A porter carries his rug and an ulster, very
-likely also a hat-box and a bag with books, papers, and such like in it,
-to say nothing of an umbrella and a mackintosh, and he secures his seat at
-the last moment. He fastens his hat above his head, puts on a travelling
-cap, changes into an ulster, if it be winter time, and throws a rug over
-his knee; he puts on travelling gloves, and gets out the Times, and he
-will sit without budging and read his <i>Times</i> without intermission
-for fifty minutes. Besides these trifles with him in the carriage, he has
-a portmanteau in the van, which he hopes has been addressed, and which the
-porter promised to see put in, and he will scramble for it at his terminus
-along with a hundred other passengers, who are all trying to identify and
-extricate their luggage from a huge heap on the platform.
-</p>
-<p>
-The American reaches the dépôt by a trolley car ten minutes at least
-before the hour of departure, having sent his heavy luggage, if he has any—which
-is not likely—by baggage express. His only personal equipment is a
-slim and compact valise, which, in regard to opening and shutting, is a
-marvel of convenience. This he carries in his hand, and places beneath or
-beside the seat which he has secured two days before. He does not carry a
-rug because the cars are heated, nor an umbrella because it is not the
-rainy season. His top coat he hangs up beside his seat, as if he were in
-his own house; and his hat if he so please. He does not wear a
-travelling-cap any more than in his own drawing-room, nor gloves in the
-train any more than in his own office. Should his hands be soiled, he goes
-to the lavatory where there are large basins and an ample supply of water,
-and if his coat be dusty, there is a negro porter in every car to brush
-it. The immense repose of the English traveller is quite impossible for
-this mercurial man, whose blood and whose brain are ever on a stir. Very
-rarely will you see him reading a book, because he is not accustomed to
-read, and the demands of a book would lessen his time for business
-meditation. Boys with newspapers circulate through the cars, and he buys
-each new paper as it appears at the different towns. Whether it be
-Republican, or Democratic, or a family paper or a yellow journal, does not
-matter to him; he glances at the startling headings, takes an accident or
-a political scandal at a mouthful, skims over the business news, sees
-whether anything has happened at the Philippines, notes that the canard of
-the morning has been contradicted in the afternoon, and flings paper after
-paper on the floor. Three minutes or, in cases of extreme interest, five
-minutes suffice for each paper, and by-and-by this omnivorous reader, who
-consumes a paper even more quickly than his food, is knee deep in printed
-information or sensation. For two minutes he is almost quiet, and seems to
-be digesting some piece of commercial information. He then rises
-hurriedly, as if he had been called on the telephone, and makes for the
-smoking-car, where he will discuss “Expansion” with vivid, picturesque
-speech, and get through a cigar with incredible celerity. Within fifteen
-minutes he is in his place again; and, a little afterwards, wearying of
-idleness, he is chewing the end of a cigar, which is a substitute for
-smoking and saves him from being wearied with his own company. Half an
-hour before the train is due at his station, he is being brushed, and
-getting ready to alight. Before the train has reached the outskirts of the
-town, he has secured his place in a procession which stands in single file
-in the narrow exit passage from the Pullman. Each man is ready dressed for
-business and has his valise in his hand; he is counting the minutes before
-he can alight, and is envying the man at the head of the procession, who
-will have a start of about two seconds. This will give him a great
-advantage in business, and he may never be overtaken by his competitors
-till evening.
-</p>
-<p>
-Suppose he lands at 6 a.m., he will find breakfast ready in a hotel, and
-half a dozen men eating as if their lives depended upon finishing by 6.15
-a.m. Before seven he will have disposed of a pile of letters, dictating
-answers to a typist attached to the hotel, he will have telegraphed in all
-directions, and made half a dozen appointments in the town by telephone.
-Within the forenoon he will finish his business and depart for some
-neighbouring town, lunching on the cars. The second town he will dispose
-of in the afternoon, and that evening go on board the sleeper to travel
-400 miles to a third town, where he is going to negotiate a contract at 8
-o'clock next morning. If you sympathize with him, and wonder how flesh and
-blood can stand the speed, he accepts your sympathy as a compliment, and
-assures you that he never sleeps so well as on the cars. He never seems to
-be out of sorts or out of temper: he is always thoroughly alive and quite
-good-natured. Sometimes he may seem for a moment annoyed, when he cannot
-telegraph as often as he wants along the line, or when the train is not on
-time, that he may make a connection. Nothing would wound him so deeply as
-to “get left,” and he can only affect to be unconscious when some one
-declares that he is “no slouch, and that there are no flies on him.” If he
-is obliged to spend two hours doing nothing in a hotel, when business is
-over, then he rocks himself and smokes, and it is a wonderful spectacle
-for an indolent Englishman to look down from the gallery that commands the
-hall of the hotel, and to see fifty able-bodied fellow-men who have worked
-already twelve hours, at least, and put eighteen hours' work into the
-time, all in motion. (One wonders why this motion is not utilized to drive
-something.) He discovers how unlike cousins may be, for an Englishman
-never moves unless he is obliged to or unless he wants to shoot something,
-and these remarkable men never rest unless when they are asleep. About
-that even, I am not sure, and I was often tempted to draw aside the
-curtain from a berth in a sleeping-car, and, had I done so, I should not
-have been at all surprised to find our friend wide awake with a cold cigar
-in his cheek, and rocking his knees for want of more extensive
-accommodation. He has always rebelled against the ancient custom of sleep,
-which he regards as a loss of time and an anachronism. All that he can do
-is to spend the night in a sleeping car, which, as he will tell you,
-annihilates time and space.
-</p>
-<p>
-Foreigners travelling in the States in their innocence are amazed that a
-delicate-minded nation, like the Americans, should be willing to sleep
-after the fashion of the Pullman cars, and should not insist upon the
-Continental cabin-car. The reason for the Arcadian simplicity of the
-sections is not really economy, for no American would ever think twice of
-spending a dollar; it is simply their abounding and dominant energy. If
-you sleep in cabins at night, you must sit in cabins by day; and this
-would mean a seclusion and repose which are very distasteful to the
-high-strung American temperament. It would be like bottling up a volatile
-gas; and one imagines that it might lead to an explosion, which some day
-would break down the partitions and break up the car from end to end. The
-American must see everything in his car and hear everything, for which he
-depends upon the peculiar quality of the local voice; and he must be at
-liberty to prowl about his car, and to sit with his friends here and
-there. The car is his little world for the time, and he is not going to
-live in a backwater.
-</p>
-<p>
-There seems no doubt that an American workman will do from twenty-five to
-thirty-three per cent, more than an Englishman in the same time, and that
-the higher wages of the American have their compensation for the
-capitalist in a workman's quickness of mind and sleight of hand.
-Everything goes at an accelerated speed, with wonderful inventions in
-labour-saving machinery and devices to economize time. If the great end of
-a nation be to do as much as possible in as short a time as possible, then
-the American climate has been practically arranged for that end. An
-Englishwoman living in the States becomes effervescent, and the native
-American is the brightest woman on the face of the earth. While the
-English atmosphere is heavy and soothing, and lends itself to thought and
-quietness, the American climate is exciting and exhilarating, and quickens
-both mind and body to the highest activity. It is an electric climate, and
-the electricity has passed into the people, who are simply vessels charged
-up to a certain number of volts. These vessels as sources of motive power
-can then be attached to pulpits, or offices, or workshops or politics. Of
-course, a day is apt to come when the vessels will have been completely
-discharged, and it arrives very frequently without warning. A little
-confusion in the head, and a slight numbness in the limbs, and the man has
-to go away a year to Colorado Springs or to Los Angeles. If he is
-fortunate, he can be recharged and run for another five or ten years; then
-nature does not give any warning, but simply stops the heart or darkens
-the brain, and you must get another man.
-</p>
-<p>
-No one, unless he leaves the country or becomes a crank, can escape from
-this despotism of activity; he is part of the regiment and must march with
-his fellows. The idea of making a competency and then retiring, say, into
-the country, never crosses a man's mind. When you urge economy upon a man
-for this end, you have injured your case, and are pleading on the other
-side. With such a prospect before him, he is more than ever resolved to be
-a spendthrift. To seclude an active American in an old-fashioned country
-house, with ivy climbing round its Tudor windows, even although there
-should be a library of black oak inside and a rose garden outside, would
-be cruelty; it would be to imprison a squirrel in a golden cage. What
-greatly impresses the traveller in the United States is that the rich men
-work as hard and as long as the poor, and that they cannot even give
-attention to the affairs of their country, but are willing to leave them
-to the very doubtful management of the “Boss,” because it would not pay
-them to leave their business and go into politics. If the end of life be
-riches, then the clever American is a successful man, for in no country
-does a respectable man become so very rich, or rich so soon, and if not
-respectable he still may do fairly well. You cannot have everything,
-however, and one notes that the average rich man has paid a price for his
-dollars. He has read very little—his wife reads for him; he has
-travelled very little—his daughters travel for him. He has no voice
-in the State—professional politicians speak for him; he has no
-amusements, unless you include speculation; and he has no pleasant periods
-of rest, unless you accept as an equivalent comparatively early and sudden
-death, which often arises from acute indigestion. He has not time to stop
-and realize himself, unless, but this is a large exception, when he has
-dyspepsia. One reason, perhaps, why Americans do not rest is that given to
-me by a bright woman: “We are all so tired,” and the American is the
-victim of his own qualities.
-</p>
-<p>
-One, of course, acknowledges the advantages of this amazing energy, and
-there are times when a stolid Englishman grows envious. A university in
-America is created in ten years and endowed to the extent of millions
-sterling, and equipped with chairs of which a European never dreamt, and
-laboratories which border upon palaces. Libraries and picture galleries
-are rising in every city, for which the treasuries of Europe have been
-ransacked; and, were it not for the restriction of governments, the Old
-Masters would have to be sought, not in Italy and England, but in New York
-and Chicago. New towns are designed upon a scale of magnificence, as if
-each were to be the capital of an empire, and are at least outlined in
-building within a few years. Should it be necessary, an army can be
-created within a few months, and in a couple of years a new trade can be
-established which will kill its European rivals. An English farmer with
-fifteen hundred acres is a considerable man, but an American can have
-fifteen thousand acres and his different farm buildings will be connected
-by telephone. A self-made man in England marries his daughter to a baronet
-and is much lifted; but the daughter of a self-made man in America will
-marry an English duke, and consider she has conferred a benefit. When you
-go to a Western town, you may be taken to see a university; if not, you
-are taken to a dry-goods store; each, in its own way, is the largest of
-its kind. Certainly, there are stores in America which have no rival in
-the Old World, and which you are expected to visit with the same
-appreciation as the Duomo of Florence.
-</p>
-<p>
-There is almost nothing that the United States does not possess, except
-political purity, and nothing which an American cannot do, except rest;
-and in the conflict with foreign competition, he has almost discounted
-victory. Whether he be able, that is, patient and thorough in the
-discovery of principles, may be a question; that he is clever, by which
-one means bright and ingenious in turning principles to account, is beyond
-all question. If America has not yet had time to produce a Lord Kelvin, it
-has given us telephones; and if Professor Dewar has astonished the world
-with his liquid air, an American trust is, it is said, being formed to
-handle it for commercial purposes. If we are thought to be dull and slow,
-as we travel among the most stimulating and hospitable people on the face
-of the earth, let some excuse be made for us and let our hosts share the
-blame. An Englishman in the United States is half dazed, like one moving
-amid the ceaseless din and whirling wheels of a huge manufactory, where
-the voice has to be raised to a shriek, and a sentence compressed into a
-single word. He goes home greatly humbled in his estimation of himself,
-and in low spirits about the commercial future of his country. He has no
-bitterness, however, within his heart, for are not these people of his own
-blood, and are not their triumphs his, even if they threaten to outrun his
-own nation in the race of productive commerce? And when he comes back to
-England, has he not his compensations, Stratford-on-Avon, and Westminster
-Abbey, and the greenery of the Home Counties, and the lights and shadows
-of the Scots Lochs, and the musical voices of the English women, and the
-quiet, contented, cultured English homes?
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XII.—A SCOT INDEED
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>E had demanded that afternoon to be told the truth, and the doctor,
-himself a young Scot, had told him plainly that he could not recover, and
-then he had asked, as one man speaking to another, both being brave and
-honest men, when he would die, and the doctor thought early next morning.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Aboot daybreak,” said the Scot, with much satisfaction, as if, on the
-whole, he were content to die, and much pleased it would be at the rising
-of the sun. He was a characteristic type of his nation, rugged in face and
-dry of manner, an old man, who had drifted somehow to this English city
-and was living there alone, and now he was about to die alone, without
-friends and in a strange land. The nurse was very kind to him, and her
-heart went out to the quiet, self-contained man. She asked him whether he
-would like to see a clergyman, and explained that the chaplain of the
-infirmary was a good man.
-</p>
-<p>
-“A've nae doubt he is,” said the Scot, “and that his meenistrations would
-be verra acceptable to English fouk, but a've never had ony dealin's wi'
-Episcopalians. He micht want to read a prayer, and I couldna abide that,
-and mebbe I couldna follow the texts in his English tongue.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The nurse still lingered by his bed. He looked up to her and assured her
-he was in no need of consolation. “Saxty year ago my mither made me learn
-the wale (choice portions) o' the Bible, and they're cornin' up ane by ane
-to my memory, but I thank ye kindly.”
- </p>
-<p>
-As the nurse went back and forward on her duties she heard her patient
-saying at intervals to himself, “I know whom I have believed.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I am persuaded that neither life nor death.” Once again she heard him,
-“Although the mountains depart and the hills be removed,” but the rest she
-did not catch.
-</p>
-<p>
-During the afternoon a lady came into the ward whose service to the Lord
-was the visitation of the sick, a woman after the type of Barnabas and
-Mary of Bethany. When she heard of the old man's illness and his
-loneliness, whom no friend came to see or comfort, she went to his
-bedside. “You are very ill,” she said, “my friend.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“A'm deein',” he replied, with the exactness of his nation, which somewhat
-fails to understand the use of graceful circumlocution and gentle phrases.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Is there anything I can do for you? Would you wish me to sing a few
-verses of a hymn? Some sick people feel much comforted and soothed by
-singing; you would like, I think, to hear 'Rock of Ages,'” and she sat
-down by his bedside and opened her book, while a patient beyond, who had
-caught what she said, raised his head to enjoy the singing.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Ye're verra kind, mem, and a'm muckle obleeged to ye, but a'm a Scot and
-ye're English, and ye dinna understand. A' my days have I been protestin'
-against the use o' human hymns in the praise o' God; a've left three kirks
-on that account, and raised my testimony in public places, and noo would
-ye send me into eternity wi' the sough of a hymn in my ears?”
- </p>
-<p>
-For a moment the visitor had no reply, for in the course of all her
-experiences, during which she had come across many kinds of men and women,
-she had never yet chanced upon this kind of Scot. The patients in the
-infirmary were not distinguished by their religious scruples, and if they
-had scruples of such a kind they turned on large and full-blooded
-distinctions between Protestant and Catholic, and never entered into
-subtleties of doctrine.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You'll excuse me, mem, for a'm no ungratefu',” he continued, “and I would
-like to meet yir wishes when ye've been so kind to me. The doctor says I
-canna live long, and it's possible that my strength may sune give way, but
-a'll tell ye what a'm willin' to do.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The visitor waited anxiously to know what service he was going to render
-her and what comfort she might offer to him, but both were beyond her
-guessing.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Sae lang as a've got strength and my reason continues clear, a'm prepared
-to argue with you concerning the lawfulness of using onything except the
-Psalms of David in the praise of God either in public or in private.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Dear old Scot, the heir of many a covenanting tradition and the worthy son
-of covenanting martyrs, it was a strange subject of discussion for a man's
-last hour, but the man who could be true to the jots and tittles of his
-faith in pain of body and in face of death was the stuff out of which
-heroes and saints are made. He belonged to a nation who might sometimes be
-narrow and over-concerned with scruples, but which knew that a stand must
-be taken somewhere, and where it took a stand was prepared to die.
-</p>
-<p>
-The visitor was a wise as well as gracious woman, and grasped the heart of
-the situation. “No, no,” she said, “we will not speak about the things
-wherein we differ, and I did not know the feeling of the Scots about the
-singing of the hymns. But I can understand how you love the Psalms and how
-dear to you is your metrical version. Do you know I have been in the
-Highlands of Scotland and have heard the Psalms sung, and the tears came
-into my eyes at the sound of the grave, sweet melody, for it was the music
-of a strong and pious people.”
- </p>
-<p>
-As she spoke the hard old Scot's face began to soften, and one hand which
-was lying outside the bedclothes repeated the time of a Scots Psalm tune.
-He was again in the country church of his boyhood, and saw his father and
-mother going into the table seats, and heard them singing:
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“O thou, my soul, bless God the Lord,
-And all that in me is
-Be stirred up His holy name
-To magnify and bless.”
- </pre>
-<p>
-“More than that, I know some of your psalm tunes, and I have the words in
-my hymn book; perhaps I have one of the Psalms which you would like to
-hear.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Div ye think that ye could sing the Twenty-third Psalm—
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-'The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want'?
-</pre>
-<p>
-for I would count it verra comfortin'.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes,” she said, “I can, and it will please me very much to sing it, for I
-think I love that psalm more than any hymn.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It never runs dry,” murmured the Scot.
-</p>
-<p>
-So she sang it from beginning to end in a low, sweet voice, slowly and
-reverently, as she had heard it sung in Scotland. He joined in no word,
-but ever he kept time with his hand and with his heart, while his eyes
-looked into the things which were far away.
-</p>
-<p>
-After she ceased he repeated to himself the last two lines:
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“And in God's house for evermore
-My dwelling place shall be.”
- </pre>
-<p>
-“Thank ye, thank ye,” he said, after a little pause, and then both were
-silent for a few minutes, because she saw that he was in his own country,
-and did not wish to bring him back by her foreign accent.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Mem, ye've dune me the greatest kindness ony Christian could do for
-anither as he stands on the banks of the Jordan.”
- </p>
-<p>
-For a minute he was silent again, and then he said: “A'm gaein' to tell ye
-somethin', and I think ye'll understand. My wife and me wes married
-thirty-five years, and ilka nicht of oor married life we sang a psalm
-afore we gaed to rest. She took the air and I took the bass, and we sang
-the Psalms through frae beginning to end twal times. She was taken frae me
-ten year ago, and the nicht afore she dee'd we sang the Twenty-third
-Psalm. A've never sung the psalm since, and I didna join wi' ye when ye
-sang it, for a'm waitin' to sing it wi' her new in oor Father's hoose the
-momin's momin', where there'll be nae nicht nor partin' evermore.”
- </p>
-<p>
-And this is how one Englishwoman found out that the Scot is at once the
-dourest and the tenderest of men.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XIII.—HIS CROWNING DAY
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>E will leave the main road which runs through the Glen between oak trees
-which were planted fifty years ago, but are only now beginning to join
-their branches, and take our way up the hillside till we come to the
-purple sea of heather whose billows rise and fall, broken only here and
-there by an oasis of green or a running burm. Our goal is this little
-cottage which is so low that its roof merges into the hill behind, and
-upon whose thatch the wild flowers have encroached. Stoop, if you please,
-for it is not wise to have high doorways where the winter storm beats so
-fiercely, and being respectable people, we shall be taken into the inner
-room, where strangers of high degree are received and the treasures of the
-family are kept. It will not take long to give an inventory of the
-furniture, and the value will not run to two figures. A box bed, a small
-table, four ancient chairs, what they called a chest of drawers, and on
-the mantelpiece some peacocks' feathers by way of decoration, and certain
-china ornaments representing animals which never have been seen in this
-creation, and are never likely to emerge in any process of evolution. Were
-this all, I should not have troubled you to climb so far, or to leave even
-for five minutes the glory of the open moor. There is something else in
-the lowly room which you might well take a journey to see, for it is a
-rare sight in shepherds' cottages. Here is a bookshelf, and on it, I
-declare, some dozen volumes bound in full calf, and bearing on one side
-the arms of a University. You must revise your judgment of this house, and
-find another measure than the height of the walls and the cubic space in
-the rooms. It matters not although a house have thirty chambers, with
-lofty ceilings and soft carpets and carved furniture; if there be no books
-which belong to literature within its walls it is a poor and narrow home,
-and the souls therein are apt to be mean and earthly.
-</p>
-<p>
-While you are looking at the books the shepherd's wife is looking at you.
-From the moment you crossed the threshold she has been thinking of that
-bookshelf, and hoping you would take notice thereof, but not for the world
-would she have mentioned it by word or sign. We had our own code of
-manners in the Glen, and one of our cardinal sins was “blowing,” by which
-we meant boasting; and while a man though perhaps not a woman, could be
-forgiven for “tasting,” there was no mercy shown to the person who allowed
-himself to brag. When, for instance, old David Ross's son became a
-professor, his father and mother simply allowed the glorious fact to ooze
-out through Domsie, who certainly had no scruple in making the most of it,
-and neither the father nor mother ever said Professor in public, although
-we believe they called their son nothing else between themselves; but the
-Glen made up for their reticence by decorating every second sentence about
-him with the word. All the same, Mistress McPherson is watching us keenly,
-and she would be utterly disappointed if we had overlooked the shelf; and
-now, in answer to our inquiry, she will take us into the kitchen and place
-us by the fireside, that we may hear the story of her scholar son, which,
-indeed, is the one romance in the history of this humble family.
-</p>
-<p>
-One morning John left the cottage to go to school, a shepherd's boy, and
-likely, as it appeared, to herd sheep and live in the Glen all the days of
-his life as his father had done before him. In the evening the
-schoolmaster, who is the judge of letters in the Glen, with the minister
-as a court of confirmation, came up and told the father and mother that in
-the purposes of the Eternal their son was evidently destined to be a
-scholar, and that upon them lay the duty of seeing that John made his
-calling and election sure. Had tidings come to those two people, whose
-wage in money would not amount to ten shillings a week, that they were
-heirs to a fortune, it would not have brought such pleasure to their souls
-as the good hope that their lowly stock would once at least in a
-generation produce the white flower of a scholar's life. The whole family,
-father and mother, with their grown-up sons and daughters in service, will
-now unite in one labour—to save and to sacrifice, that by hook or
-crook their brother may reach a university, and be sustained in his study
-there till he has reached its reward. Four years from that evening, had
-you been standing under the great arch by which students enter the
-quadrangle of Edinburgh University, you had seen the shepherd's son pass
-in, plainly dressed and shy in manner, but strong of body and brave in
-soul, and charged with all the knowledge that his schoolmaster and his
-minister could impart by patient, ungrudging labour. The lad before him is
-a noble's son, and the one following is a merchant's, and so sons of the
-rich and of the poor, of the high and of the low, they go together, into
-the one Republic on the face of the earth, the Republic of Letters, where
-money does not count, nor rank, nor influence, nor intrigue, but where
-every man stands equal and the best man wins.
-</p>
-<p>
-Another four years and John has obtained his degree, a double first, and
-he writes to the cottage on the side of the hill that the two old people
-must come up to see him crowned. For six weeks before the day his mother
-has just one consuming anxiety, and that is what she should wear on the
-occasion, and it is only after fifteen long deliberations with her gossips
-in the Glen that the great affair is settled, while the father's mind is
-wholly taken up on Sundays with the effort to look as if he were not the
-father of a graduate.
-</p>
-<p>
-When the shepherd and his wife enter the gates of the University, they are
-not to be thought of as two illiterate peasants who cannot distinguish
-between a University and a dry-goods store. Although they had never
-themselves expected to see so high a place, and had only cherished it as a
-secret hope that perhaps one of their boys might attain so far, they have
-learned by the tradition of their nation, and by the speech of Domsie in
-the kirk-yard on Sabbath, to enter into the greatness of a university. It
-is to them the home of the highest knowledge, and a sacred place to which
-reverend people might well go up as a pious Moslem to Mecca or a Jew to
-Jerusalem. As they cross the quadrangle, the shepherd touches his wife,
-and points to an elderly gentleman in the distance. They follow him with
-respectful attention as he shambles along, half a dozen books under his
-arm, his shabby cloak held by a single button, a hat as old as Jamie
-Soutar's resting on the back of his head.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Keep's a', Jeems,” whispers Janet respectfully “Div ye really think that
-he's a professor?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“We canna be sure, woman; he micht juist be a scholar, but I am judgin'
-that he's a professor—he hes a' the appearance.”
- </p>
-<p>
-And the two old people stand still in the bit till he disappears, and then
-they go on their way much lifted. Outside religion there is no word in
-Scots speech so sacred as “professor.” It means a semi-heavenly body
-charged with Latin and Greek philosophy and mathematics. It was something
-to see such a man, and to be in his company was living in an atmosphere
-where you might catch the infection of his learning. When a glensman, to
-whom Domsie had spoken of professors with bated breath for more than a
-generation, learned that in southern parts the title was assumed by
-hairdressers and ventriloquists, and that they were not sent to gaol for
-profanity, then Drumtochty discovered another argument for its favourite
-doctrine of original sin.
-</p>
-<p>
-As the two go down the half-lit passage to the hall of graduation, they
-are met by a majestic figure—a young man in evening dress, and over
-it the gown of an M.A., with its white silk hood, and on his head the
-Master's cap.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Are you coming, may I ask,” said he, with quite a nice English accent, to
-the graduation ceremony, “and can I be of any service?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“We are, sir; and as we are strangers frae the country, we would be muckle
-obleeged if ye could shew us the door. We dinna want to go where the
-gentry are sittin', but if ye would juist tak' us where we could see, we'd
-be content and terrible pleased. There's a... friend to get his degree
-to-day, and my man and me would like to see him.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Mither,” said the figure, “and ye dinna ken yir ain son,” for he had
-taken them in well, and played his little trick with much success. They
-had never seen him in evening dress, nor in his Master's robe, and the
-light was as darkness; besides, he had dropped the accent of the Glen. The
-father and the son laughed together joyfully at Janet, but she declared
-that she had known him all the time, and put it to them if a mother could
-be mistaken about her son. But she didn't know him all the same, and as
-long as she lived it was a pleasant jest between them when he came north
-to visit them, and she met him at the garden gate. “Well, mither,” he
-would say, “div ye ken yir son the day?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Janet was well pleased that one should tease her in after times about this
-ploy of John's, for it always gave her an opportunity of describing how
-handsome he looked in his black and white silk, and of stating that she.
-Mistress McPherson, wife of James McPherson, shepherd at Camashach,
-considered the dress of a Master of Arts the handsomest that a man could
-wear.
-</p>
-<p>
-John took his father and mother into the hall, and placed them in the
-seats reserved for the friends of graduates, and while a man has various
-moments of pure joy in his life, there is none sweeter than when he brings
-his mother to see him crowned at the close of his university career. For
-in this matter he owes everything to two people—the schoolmaster who
-taught him and the mother who inspired him.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Now, mither, you watch that door yonder, for through it the procession
-will come; and when ye see the men wi' the white silk hoods, ye'll ken
-that I'm there, and ye'll surely no mistake me again.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He was so provoking, and he looked so handsome with the flush of the day
-upon his cheek, that, as he stooped over her, she was about to give him a
-little shove and tell him not to give “any more impi-dence to his auld
-mither,” when she remembered where she was sitting, and the grand folk
-round her, and so she only answered with a demure nod of intelligence.
-</p>
-<p>
-She brought out her glasses, and the shepherd polished them carefully for
-her because her hands were trembling, and for that matter he had almost to
-put them on her nose, so shaken was she on this great day; and then she
-watched the door, as if there was nothing else in all the hall except that
-door. It seemed to her twelve hours before it opened and the procession
-streamed through with many a famous man and many a coloured garment. Janet
-had no eyes for the Chancellor in his purple and gold, nor for the robes
-of red and the hoods of lemon silk bordered with white fur, for there was
-nothing beautiful in her eyes that day except black gowns with white silk
-upon them. When at last the Masters of Arts appeared, she told me
-afterwards many and many a time in the Glen that they were a body of very
-respectable-looking young men, but that among them all there was only one
-outstanding and handsome man, and that, by a curious accident which
-mothers only can explain, happened to be her son. She followed him as he
-came down the passage, and was a little disappointed that he was now
-carrying his trencher in his hand instead of wearing it-on his head, and
-she saw him take his seat, and could hardly forgive some great lady in
-front of her, whose bonnet, coming in the line of vision, prevented her
-catching anything except a little bit of John's shoulder with the white
-silk upon it. A little later, and she watched him rise and go forward and
-kneel before the Chancellor, and then there was said over him Latin words
-so magical that after they were spoken a student was changed from a common
-man into a Master of Arts. We used to say in our jesting that the Latin
-could not be translated, it was so mysterious and awful, but the
-shepherd's wife and John's mother was an accomplished Latin scholar that
-day, and she heard the Chancellor say, as distinctly as ever man spoke—
-</p>
-<p>
-“John McPherson, you are the tallest, strongest, handsomest, ablest,
-kindest-hearted son whom this University ever made Master of Arts.” That
-was a free translation, but it was true in spirit, and the letter killeth.
-</p>
-<p>
-Standing behind the Chancellor, and looking down upon the hall, I saw the
-faces of the shepherd and his wife, and I knew that they would never taste
-such perfect joy again till they entered through the gates into the city,
-and then I longed to be lifted above all circumstances, and to have the
-power of the fairy world, where you do what you please. For I should have
-gone down into the hall, and held a special and unheard-of graduation
-ceremony, conferring a degree of a new kind altogether upon that shepherd
-and his wife, because without their unworldly ideals, and their hard
-sacrifices, and their holy prayers, John McPherson had never knelt there
-that day in his white silk glory, Master of Arts with the highest honours.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XIV.—“DINNA FORGET SPURGEON”
- </h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>IS varied charge was given to the good man on the morning of market day as
-he brought the mare out from the stable, as he harnessed her into the
-dogcart, as he packed the butter basket below the seat, as he wrestled
-into his top coat, worn for ceremony's sake, and as he made the start—line
-upon line and precept upon precept as he was able to receive it; but the
-conclusion of the matter and its crown was ever the same, “Dinna forget
-Spurgeon.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“There's twal pund o' butter for the grocer, the best ever left this
-dairy, and he maun gie a shillin,' or it's the laist Andra Davie'ill get
-frae me; but begin by askin' fourteenpence, else it's eleven ye'll bring
-back. He's a lad, is Andra, an' terrible grippy.
-</p>
-<p>
-“For ony sake tak' care o' the eggs, and mind they're no turnips ye're
-handlin'—it's a fair temptin' o' Providence to see the basket in yir
-hands—ninepence a dozen, mind, and tell him they're new laid an' no
-frae Ireland; there's a handfu' o' flowers for the wife, and a bit o'
-honey for their sick laddie, but say naethin' o' that till the bargain's
-made.
-</p>
-<p>
-“The tea and sugar a've markit on a bit paper, for it's nae use bringin' a
-bag o' grass-seed, as ye did fower weeks ago; an' there's ae thing mair I
-micht mention, for ony sake dinna pit the paraffin oil in the same basket
-wi' the loaf sugar; they may fit fine, as ye said, but otherwise they're
-no gude neeburs. And, John, dinna forget Spurgeon.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Again and again during the day, and in the midst of many practical
-operations, the good wife predicted to her handmaidens what would happen,
-and told them, as she had done weekly, that she had no hope.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It's maist awfu' hoo the maister'ill gae wanderin' and dodderin' thro'
-the market a' day, pricing cattle he's no gaein' tae buy, an' arguin'
-aboot the rent o' farms he's no gaein' to tak', an' never gie a thocht tae
-the errands till the laist meenut.
-</p>
-<p>
-“He may bring hame some oil,” she would continue, gloomily, as if that
-were the one necessity of life to which a male person might be expected to
-give attention; “but ye needna expect ony tea next week”—as if there
-was not a week's stock in the house—“and ye may tak' ma word for it
-there'ill be nae Spurgeon's sermon for Sabbath.”
- </p>
-<p>
-As the provident woman had written every requirement—except the oil,
-which was obtained at the ironmonger's, and the Spurgeon, which was sold
-at the draper's—on a sheet of paper, and pinned it on the topmost
-cabbage leaf which covered the butter, the risk was not great; but that
-week the discriminating prophecy of the good man's capabilities seemed to
-be justified, for the oil was there, but Spurgeon could not be found. It
-was not in the bottom of the dogcart, nor below the cushion, nor attached
-to a piece of saddlery, nor even in the good man's trouser-pocket—all
-familiar resting-places—and when it was at last extricated from the
-inner pocket of his top coat—a garment with which he had no intimate
-acquaintance—he received no credit, for it was pointed out with
-force that to have purchased the sermon and then to have mislaid it, was
-worse than forgetting it altogether.
-</p>
-<p>
-“The Salvation of Manasseh,” read the good wife; “it would have been a
-fine like business to have missed that; a'll warrant this 'ill be ane o'
-his sappiest, but they're a' gude”: and then Manasseh was put in a
-prominent and honourable place, behind the basket of wax flowers in the
-best parlour till Sabbath.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was the good custom in that kindly home to ask the “lads” from the
-bothie into the kitchen on the Sabbath evening, who came in their best
-clothes and in much confusion, sitting on the edge of chairs and refusing
-to speak on any consideration. They made an admirable meal, however, and
-were understood to express gratitude by an attempt at “gude nicht,” while
-the foreman stated often with the weight of his authority that they were
-both “extraordinar' lifted” by the tea and “awfu' ta'en up” with the
-sermon. For after tea the “maister” came “but,” and having seen that every
-person had a Bible, he gave out a Psalm, which was sung usually either to
-Coleshill or Martyrdom—the musical taste of the household being
-limited and conservative to a degree. The good man then read the chapter
-mentioned on the face of the sermon, and remarked by way of friendly
-introduction:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Noo we'ill see what Mr. Spurgeon has to say the nicht.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Perhaps the glamour of the past is on me, perhaps a lad was but a poor
-judge, but it seemed to me good reading—slow, well pronounced,
-reverent, charged with tenderness and pathos. No one slept or moved, and
-the firelight falling on the serious faces of the stalwart men, and the
-shining of the lamp on the good grey heads, as the gospel came, sentence
-by sentence, to every heart, is a sacred memory, and I count that Mr.
-Spurgeon would have been mightily pleased to have been in such meetings of
-homely folk.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was harvest-time, however, when Manasseh was read, and there being
-extra men with us, our little gathering was held in the loft, where they
-store the com which is to be threshed in the mill. It was full of wheat in
-heavy, rich, ripe, golden sheaves, save a wide space in front of the
-machinery, and the congregation seated themselves in a semi-circle on the
-sheaves. The door through which the com is forked into the loft was open
-and, with a skylight in the low dusty roof, gave us, that fine August
-evening, all the light we needed. Through that wide window we could look
-out on some stacks already safely built, and on fields, stretching for
-miles, of grain cut and ready for the gathering and, beyond, to woods and
-sloping hills towards which the sun was westering fast. That evening, I
-remember, we sang
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“I to the hills will lift mine eyes.”
- </pre>
-<p>
-and sang it to French, and it was laid on me as an honour to read
-“Manasseh.” Whether the sermon is called by this name I do not know, and
-whether it be one of the greatest of Mr. Spurgeon's I do not know, nor
-have I a copy of it; but it was mighty unto salvation in that loft, and I
-make no doubt that good grain was garnered unto eternity. There is a
-passage in it when, after the mercy of God has rested on this chief
-sinner, an angel flies through the length and breadth of Heaven, crying,
-“Manasseh is saved, Manasseh is saved.” Up to that point the lad read, and
-further he did not read. You know, because you have been told, how
-insensible and careless is a schoolboy, how destitute of all sentiment and
-emotion... and therefore I do not ask you to believe me. You know how dull
-and stupid is a plowman, because you have been told... and therefore I do
-not ask you to believe me.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was the light which got into the lad's eyes, and the dust which choked
-his voice, and it must have been for the same reasons that a plowman
-passed the back of his hand across his eyes.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Ye'ill be tired noo,” said the good man; “let me feenish the sermon,” but
-the sermon is not yet finished, and never shall be, for it has been unto
-life everlasting.
-</p>
-<p>
-Who of all preachers you can mention of our day could have held such
-companies save Spurgeon? What is to take their place, when the last of
-those well-known sermons disappears from village shops and cottage
-shelves? Is there any other gospel which will ever be so understanded of
-the people, or so move human hearts as that which Spurgeon preached in the
-best words of our own tongue? The good man and his wife have entered into
-rest long ago, and of all that company I know not one now; but I see them
-as I write, against that setting of gold, and I hear the angel's voice,
-“Manasseh is saved,” and for that evening and others very sacred to my
-heart I cannot forget Spurgeon.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XV.—THEIR FULL RIGHTS
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE departure of a minister of the Scots Kirk from his congregation is, of
-course, a subject of regret if he has the heart of the people, but this
-regret is tempered by the satisfaction of knowing that there will be an
-election. While a free-born Scot is careful to exercise his political
-suffrage, he takes an even keener interest in his ecclesiastical vote, and
-the whole congregation now constitutes itself into a constituency. Every
-preacher is a candidate, and everything about him is criticised, from his
-appearance—in one district they would not have a red-headed man; and
-his dress—in another district they objected to grey trousers, up to
-his voice and to his doctrine; but, of course, the keenest criticism bears
-upon his doctrine, which is searched as with a microscope. As a rule there
-is no desire to close the poll early, for a year's vacancy is a year's
-enjoyment to the congregation giving endless opportunity for argument and
-debate for strategy and party management. One congregation had been ruled
-so firmly by the retiring pastor, who was a little man and therefore full
-of authority, that they hardly dared to call their souls their own.
-</p>
-<p>
-If any one ventured to disagree with this ecclesiastical Napoleon he was
-ordered to the door and told to betake himself to some church where
-freedom of action was allowed. This magnificent autocracy might have
-emptied another church, but it secured a Scots kirk, because to tell a
-Scot to go is to make, him stay. As a matter of course, no person did
-leave, for that would have been giving in, and the consequence was that
-the whole congregation was knit together by the iron bonds of rebellion.
-</p>
-<p>
-When Napoleon retired the congregation smacked its lips, for now at least
-every one had found his voice and could go his own way. There never was
-such a vacancy known in the district. They heard thirty candidates and
-rejected them all: they held a meeting every week, which lasted till
-midnight, and there were six motions proposed, and no one dreamed of
-agreement. It was like the emancipation of the slaves, and the whole of
-Scotch cantankerousness came to a height. Every obscure law was hunted up
-in order to be used against the other side, and every well-known law they
-endeavoured to break. Not because they did not know the law, but because
-they wanted to find out whether the presiding minister knew it. This poor
-man had the duty of conducting the meetings of the congregation, and was
-utterly unfitted for the position by his exceeding goodness. He was a
-pious and soft-hearted man, who used to address them as “dear brethren,”
- and appealed to them on the grounds of harmony and charity. “You will wish
-to be at one,” he used to say, when they all really wished to be at sixes
-and sevens, or, “I am sure,” he would say, “you didn't mean to oppose our
-dear brother who has just spoken,” when that had been the speaker's
-intention for twenty-four hours. One party was led by a tall, raw-boned
-Scot, with a voice like a handsaw, who opposed everything, and the other
-was really managed by the wife of one of the elders, who could be heard
-giving directions <i>sotto voce</i> how to meet the handsaw. They finally
-drew the wretched acting moderator to distraction, so that his head, which
-was never so good as his heart, gave way, and he required six months' rest
-in a hydropathic.
-</p>
-<p>
-The Presbytery then sent down a minister of another kind, fairly equipped
-in law and with no bowels of mercy; a civil, courteous, determined,
-fighting man, and there was a royal evening. This minister explained that
-they had held many meetings, most of which were unnecessary, and that they
-had proposed fifty motions, all of which he believed were illegal. It was
-his own conviction he freely stated that they knew perfectly well that
-they had been wrong, and that they had simply been amusing themselves, and
-he concluded by intimating that they had met for business on this
-occasion, that a minister must be elected before departing, and it was his
-business to see that he was elected unanimously. He stood facing the
-congregation, who were now in a high state of delight, feeling that there
-was going to be a real battle, and that there would be some glory in
-contending with an able-bodied man, who would not speak about charity, and
-say “dear brethren”—words which always excite a secret feeling of
-disgust in a Scot. The minister stood up opposite the congregation, tall,
-square and alert. “Will you pay attention and I'll lay down the law; if
-any one breaks the law he must sit down at once, and if he does not, I
-shall not allow him to vote. You can propose any candidate who is legally
-qualified, and I will allow one man to propose him and another to second
-him, and I will give each five minutes in which to speak to the excellence
-of his candidate, and the moment any person refers to another candidate he
-must stop. When the candidates have been proposed we shall take the vote,
-and we shall go on voting until we settle upon the candidate who has the
-majority, and we will do all this in an hour, and then we will sing a
-Psalm and go home.”
- </p>
-<p>
-During this address several stalwart fighters were seen to nod to one
-another, and one went the length of slapping his leg, and already the
-moderator had acquired the respect of his turbulent congregation. The
-handsaw arose and proposed his candidate, and almost immediately attacked
-the other party. “Sit down, sir,” said the moderator, “you're out of
-order,” and after a brief stare of amazement and a measuring of the force
-against him, the handsaw gave a glance around and collapsed. A candidate
-was proposed from the other side, but his name was hardly mentioned before
-the mover commenced to refer to the handsaw. “You are out of order,” said
-the moderator; “not another word,” and, although the female leader of that
-side nodded to him to go on, he thought better, and also collapsed. Then
-an astute old strategist at the back, who had embroiled many a meeting,
-and who was sitting with a law book in his hand, proposed that they should
-delay the election until another meeting. “That motion,” said the
-moderator, “I shall not receive. We have not met to delay; we have met to
-vote.” Whereupon another Scot arose and stated that he had risen to a
-point of order, which is always the excuse by which the proceedings can be
-interrupted. “What,” he said, “I want to know is this: Is it regular to
-vote when there was no notice given that the voting was to take place?”
- “There was notice given,” said the moderator; “sit down in your place.”
- “Can I not object?” he said. “No,” he said, “you can't.” He looked around
-the meeting. “What,” he said, “is the use of being a Presbyterian if I am
-not allowed to object? I might as well be an Episcopalian.” The moderator,
-still standing, eyed him, and said: “Are you going to sit down or are you
-not?” “Do you order me to sit down in your private or in your public
-capacity?” said the recalcitrant. “As a man or as a moderator?” For
-nothing delights a Scot more than to make this contrast between public and
-private capacity, like the Scotch magistrate, who said, “In my public
-capacity I fine you five shillings for the assault; in my private capacity
-I would have done the same myself.” “As moderator,” said the minister, “I
-command you to take your place.” “I consent—I consent,” said the
-Scot, with infinite relish, like a man who had had a wrestling match and
-had been fairly beaten, and he leant back to a friend behind, saying,
-“Sall, he's a lad, the moderator,” for this is the way in which a man wins
-respect from Scots. In a moment he had risen again. “Moderator,” he said,
-“ye commanded me in yir official capacity to sit doon, and I obeyed, but”—and
-there was a silence through the church—“I'll no sit down for that
-woman,” indicating the elder's wife. “She would turn round and order me to
-sit down as if I had been her husband, but, moderator,” he said, “I thank
-the Almichty I'm not.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Greatly cheered by this episode, the congregation proceeded to vote, the
-leaders taking objections to different voters, which were all overruled by
-the moderator, who was now going from strength to strength. And then at
-last a minister was elected by a large majority. “Now,” said the
-moderator, “you've had a fair fight and a year's argument, and there is
-not a privilege you have not used, and you have done a thousand things you
-had no right to do, and I appeal to the minority to agree with the
-majority, as Scots ought to do when they have had their rights.” Whereupon
-the handsaw arose and declared that he was never prouder of the Scotch
-Church than he had been during the last year, and that in all his life he
-had never spent a happier time. “We've had a grand argument and richt
-stand up fecht, and now,” he said, “I'm willing, for masel, and I speak
-for my friends, to accept the minister that's been elected, for I consider
-him to be a soond preacher and vary spiritual in the exercises. The fact
-is,” he added, “I would have been content with him at ony time, but it
-would have been a peety to have had an immediate election and to have
-missed this year. When he comes he'll have my hearty support, and I'm
-willing to agree that he should have a proper stipend, and that the manse
-be papered and painted and put in order for his coming.” As he sat down he
-could be heard over all the church saying to himself with immense
-satisfaction, “It's been a michty time, and the law's been well laid down
-this nicht.” The minister gave out the Psalm—
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“How good a thing it is, and
-How becoming well,
-To gather such as brethren are
-In unity to dwell!”
- </pre>
-<p>
-Which was sung with immense spirit, and, after the benediction, every man
-whom the minister had ordered to sit down came up and shook hands with
-him, assuring him that they knew all the time that he was right, and that
-they respected him for his ability. They also entreated him to come and
-administer the sacrament before the new minister arrived, believing that a
-man who could rule with so firm a hand would be an acceptable preacher of
-the gospel.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XVI.—AN EXPERT IN HERESY
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>VERY country has its own sports, and Scotland has golf, but golf only
-satisfies the lighter side of the Scots; the graver side of the Scot finds
-its exercise in the prosecution of a heretic. Nothing so delights this
-theological and argumentative people as a heresy hunt, and they have no
-more ill-will to a heretic than sportsmen have to a fox. It sometimes
-occurs to me that they dally with cases in order that they may be
-prolonged, and that the sportsmen may have a good run after the fox. I
-have even dared to think that they would be willing to preserve heretics
-as foxes are preserved in hunting counties in order that they might have a
-good time now and again. Every one throws himself into a heresy case, from
-the highest to the lowest, from the Duke in his castle to the shepherd on
-the hills, from the lawyer in his office to the railway guard in his van.
-They all read about it and form their opinion, and take sides and watch
-the event, and the issue of the case is a national incident. From the
-conflict of wits, in which the hardest heads have tried conclusions on the
-deepest subjects, the people return to business shrewder than ever, more
-confident and self-satisfied.
-</p>
-<p>
-We had missed the connexion, and the North train had gone fifteen minutes
-ago, and how I was to reach the station of Pitrodie that night was a
-question beyond solution. The station master could give no help, and only
-suggested that I might sleep at the inn and take the morning train, but in
-that case I would have been too late for the funeral to which I was going.
-When he heard the nature of my errand he bestirred himself with much more
-zeal, for, although a Scot may not facilitate your journey for a marriage,
-which he regards as an event of very doubtful utility, and associated with
-little geniality, he is always ready to assist you to a funeral to which
-the heart of the Scotch people goes out with pathetic interest.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Would you mind travelling in the guard's van of a luggage train and ye
-would be in fine time?”
- </p>
-<p>
-On the contrary, I would be delighted, for I had never travelled in such
-circumstances, and the guard's van would be a pleasant variety upon a
-third-class carriage.
-</p>
-<p>
-The guard received me with considerable cordiality and gave me his seat in
-the van, which was decorated with pictures of kirks and eminent divines.
-For a while he was engaged with various duties, shunting trucks and making
-up his train, but after we had started and were out upon the line he came
-and placed himself opposite.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Now,” he said, “we've a run of twenty miles, and it's not likely we'll be
-interrupted, for the rails are clear at this time of night, and we're an
-express goods. I regard it,” he said, “as a providence that ye lost yer
-train, for if I'd been asked what I would like this very nicht I would ha
-said, 'Gie me a minister.'”
- </p>
-<p>
-When I expressed my pleasure at his respect for the cloth, and my
-willingness to be of any service to him, he waved his hand as one does who
-has been misunderstood. “It's no,” he said, “releegious conversation that
-I'm wantin', although I'm willing enough to have that at a time, but
-there's a point in the Robertson-Smith heresy case that I would like to
-have cleared up to my satisfaction.”
- </p>
-<p>
-A tall and grey-bearded man, about fifty years of age, with a keen eye and
-a shrewd face, he leant forward from his place, and, with the light of the
-lamp shining on his face, he began: “Now, ye see, the first article in the
-libel against Prof. Robertson-Smith has to do with the construction of the
-Book of Deuteronomy,” but I will not inflict what he said, for it took ten
-miles of the railway to open up his point. As we rattled along the birling
-of the heavy break van was like music to words of sonorous sound—“Pentateuch,”
- “Mosaic Authorship,” “Confession of Faith.”
- </p>
-<p>
-For another ten miles we discussed the length and breadth of the eminent
-Hebrew scholar's views till we reached a crisis, which happened also to be
-a junction on the railway. “One minute,” he said, “and we maun stop, for
-we're coming to the junction.” The point we were at was the place of the
-Song of Solomon in the Old Testament. “Now, I contend,” he continued,
-“that it hes to be read spiritually, and I've given three reasons. I've
-three mair, but I maun shunt the trucks. I'll be back in ten minutes, and
-ye'll not forget that the discussion is no closed but just adjourned, and
-I've the richt to give the other three reasons before ye reply.” And then,
-after the three had been given and thirty more, we parted as the day was
-breaking. At Pitrodie station he crossed the platform with me, and shook
-hands till my bones were almost broken.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It's been a very edifying nicht, and I'll gie fair consideration to all
-your arguments. Mind ye, I'm proud o' the Professor, for he's a michty
-scholar, and I wouldna like to see him put out o' the kirk, but I'm
-jalousing that he's a heretic.” I stood at a turn of the road and saw the
-train pass, and my friend waved his hand to me from the back of the van,
-but I could see him sadly shake his head. He was still jalousing
-(suspecting) that Prof. Robertson-Smith was a heretic.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XVII.—THE SCOT AT AN ARGUMENT
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T is difficult for one nation to perfectly understand another, and there
-is a certain quality of the Scots' intellect which is apt to try the
-patience of an Englishman. It is said that an Englishman was once so
-exasperated by the arguing by a Scot, who took the opposite side on every
-subject from the weather to politics, that at last he cried out in
-despair: “You will admit at least that two and two make four,” to which
-the delighted Scot replied with celerity, “I'll admit naething, but I'm
-willing to argue the proposition.” It is not recorded whether the Scot
-escaped alive, but it is hardly possible to believe that he was not
-assaulted. You may be the most conciliatory of people, and may even be
-cleansed from all positive opinions—one of those people who are said
-to be agreeable because they agree with everybody; and yet a thoroughbred
-Scot will in ten minutes or less have you into a tangle of prickly
-arguments, and hold you at his mercy, although afterwards you cannot
-remember how you were drawn from the main road into the bramble patch, and
-you are sure that the only result was the destruction of your peace of
-mind for an afternoon. But the Scot enjoyed himself immensely, and goes on
-with keen zest to ambush some other passenger. What evil spirit of logic
-has possessed this race? an English person cannot help complaining, and
-why should any person find his pleasure in wordy debate?
-</p>
-<p>
-From his side of the Tweed and of human nature the Scot is puzzled and
-pained by the inconsequence and opportunism of the English mind. After a
-Scot, for instance, has proved to his Southern opponent that some
-institution is absolutely illogical, that it ought never to have existed,
-and ought at once to be abolished, and after the Scot pursuing his
-victorious way of pure reason, has almost persuaded himself that a thing
-so absurd never has existed, the Englishman, who has been very much bored
-by the elaborate argument, will ask with a monstrous callousness whether
-the institution does not work well, and put forward with brazen effrontery
-the plea that if an institution works well, it does not matter whether it
-be logical or not. Then it is that a Scot will look at an Englishman in
-mournful silence and wonder upon what principle he was created.
-</p>
-<p>
-The traveller no sooner crosses the border from the genial and
-irresponsible South than he finds himself in a land where a nation forms
-one huge debating society, and there is a note of interrogation in the
-very accent of speech. When an English tourist asked his driver what was
-the reason of so many religious denominations in Scotland, and the driver,
-looking down upon a village with six different kirks, answered, “Juist bad
-temper, naething else,” he was indulging his cynicism and knew very well
-that he was misinforming the stranger.
-</p>
-<p>
-While it is absolutely impossible to make plain to an average Englishman
-the difference between one kirk and another in Scotland, yet every one has
-its own logical basis, and indeed when one considers the subtlety and
-restlessness of the Scots intellect he wonders, not that there have been
-so many divisions, but that there have been so few in Scots religion. By
-preference a Scot discusses Theology, because it is the deepest subject
-and gives him the widest sphere for his dialectic powers, but in default
-of Theology he is ready to discuss anything else, from the Game Laws to
-the character of Mary, Queen of Scots. He is the guardian of correct
-speech and will not allow any inaccuracy to pass, and therefore you never
-know when in the hurry of life you may not be caught and rebuked. When I
-asked a porter in Stirling Station one afternoon at what hour the train
-for Aberfoyle left I made a mistake of which I speedily repented. <i>The</i>
-train for Aberfoyle—I had assumed there was only one train that
-afternoon, for this beautiful but remote little place. Very good, that was
-then the position I had taken up and must defend. The porter licked his
-lips with anticipation of victory, for he held another view. “<i>The</i>
-train for Aberfoyle,” he repeated triumphantly. “Whatna train div ye
-mean?”—then severely as one exposing a hasty assumption—“there's
-a train at 3.10, there's another at 3.60, there's another at 6.30” (or
-some such hours). He challenged me to reply or withdraw, and his voice was
-ringing with controversy. When I made an abject surrender he was not
-satisfied, but pursued me and gained another victory. “Very good,” I said,
-“then what train should I take?” He was now regarding me with something
-like contempt, an adversary whom it was hardly worth fighting with. That
-depended on circumstances he did not know and purposes which I had not
-told him. He could only pity me. “How can I tell,” he said, “what train ye
-should go by, ye can go by ony train that suits ye, but yir luggage, being
-booked through, will travel by the 3.10.” During our conversation my
-portmanteau which I had placed under his charge was twice removed from its
-barrow in the shifting of the luggage, and as my friend watched its goings
-(without interfering) he relaxed from his intellectual severity and
-allowed himself a jest suitable to my capacity. “That's a lively
-portmanteau o' yours. I'm judging that if ye set it on the road it would
-go Aberfoyle itsel'.” When we parted on a basis of free silver he still
-implied a reproach, “so ye did conclude to go by the 3.10, but” (showing
-how poor were my reasoning faculties even after I had used them) “ye would
-have been as soon by the 3.50.” For a sustained and satisfying bout of
-argument one must visit a Scot in his home and have an evening to spare.
-Was it not Carlyle's father who wrote to Tom that a man had come to the
-village with a fine ability for argument, and that he only wished his son
-were with them and then he would set Tom on one side of the table and this
-man on the other place, and “a proposeetion” between them, and hear them
-argue for the night? But one may get pleasant glimpses of the national
-sport on railway journeys and by the roadside. A farmer came into the
-carriage one summer afternoon, as I was travelling through Ayrshire, who
-had been attending market and had evidently dined. He had attended to the
-lighter affairs of life in the sale of stock and the buying of a reaping
-machine, and now he was ready for the more serious business of theological
-discussion. He examined me curiously but did not judge me worthy, and
-after one or two remarks on the weather with which I hastened to agree, he
-fell into a regretful silence as of one losing his time. Next station a
-minister entered, and the moment my fellow-passenger saw the white tie his
-eyes glistened, and in about three minutes they were actively engaged, the
-farmer and the Minister, discussing the doctrine of justification. The
-Minister, as in duty bound, took the side of justification by faith, and
-the farmer, simply I suppose to make debate and certainly with a noble
-disregard of personal interests—for he had evidently dined—took
-the side of works. Perhaps it may seem as if it was an unequal match
-between the Minister and the farmer, since the one was a professional
-scholar and the other a rustic amateur. But the difference was not so
-great as a stranger might imagine, for if a minister be as it were a
-theological specialist every man in Scotland is a general practitioner.
-And if the latter had his own difficulties in pronouncing words he was
-always right in the text he intended. They conducted their controversy
-with much ability till we came to the farmer's station, and then he left
-still arguing, and with my last glimpse of that admirable Scot he was
-steadying himself against a post at the extremity of the platform, and
-this was his final fling: “I grant ye Paul and the Romans, but I take my
-stand on James.” Wonderful country where the farmers, even after they have
-dined, take to theology as a pastime. What could that man not have done
-before he dined.
-</p>
-<p>
-In earlier days, the far back days of youth, I knew a rustic whose square
-and thick-set figure was a picture of his sturdy and indomitable mind. He
-was slow of speech and slow also of mind, but what he knew he held with
-the grip of a vice and he would yield nothing in conversation. If you said
-it was raining (when it might be pouring) he would reply that it was
-showery. If you declared a field of com to be fine he said that he had
-seen “waur” (worse), and if you praised a sermon he granted that it wasna
-bad; and in referring to a minister distinguished throughout the land for
-his saintliness he volunteered the judgment that there was “naething
-positively veecious in him.” Many a time did I try, sometimes to browbeat
-him, and sometimes to beguile him into a positive statement and to get him
-to take up a position from which he could not withdraw. I was always
-beaten, and yet once I was within an ace of success. We had bought a horse
-on the strength of a good character from a dealer, and were learning the
-vanity of speech in all horse transactions, for there was nothing that
-beast did not do of the things no horse ought to do, and one morning after
-it had tried to get at James with its hind legs, and then tried to bring
-him down with its fore legs, had done its best to bite him, and also
-manoeuvred to crush him against a wall, I hazarded the suggestion that our
-new purchase was a vicious brute. He caught the note of assurance in my
-voice, and saw that he had been trapped; he cast an almost pathetic look
-at me as if I was inviting him to deny his national character and betray a
-historic part of unbroken resistance. He hesitated and looked for a way of
-escape while he skilfully warded off another attack, this time with the
-teeth, and his face brightened. “Na!” he replied, “I'll no admit that the
-horse is veecious, we maun hae more experience o' him afore we can pass
-sic a judgment, but”—and now he just escaped a playful tap from the
-horse's fore-leg—“I'm prepared to admit that this momin' he is a wee
-thingie liteegious.” And so victory was snatched from my hand, and I was
-again worsted.
-</p>
-<p>
-If the endless arguing of the Scot be wearisome to strangers and one would
-guess is a burden to himself, yet it has its advantages. It has been a
-discipline for the Scots mind, and the endless disputations on doctrine
-and kirks as well as more trifling matters like history and politics has
-toughened the Scots brain and brought it to a fine edge. When I hear a
-successful Scot speak lightly of the Shorter Catechism, then I am amazed
-and tempted to despise him, for it was by that means that he was sent
-forth so acute and enterprising a man, and any fortune he has made he owes
-to its training. He has been trained to think and to reason, to separate
-what is true from what is false, to use the principles of speech and test
-the subtlest meaning of words, and therefore, if he be in business, he is
-a banker by preference, because that is the science of commerce, and if he
-be an artizan, he becomes an engineer because that is the most skilful
-trade, and as a doctor he is spread all over the world. Wherever hard
-thinking and a determined will tell in the world's work this self-reliant
-and uncompromising man is sure to succeed, and if his mind has not the
-geniality and flexibility of the English, if it secretly hates the English
-principle of compromise, and suspects the English standard of commonsense,
-if it be too unbending and even unreasonably logical, this only proves
-that no one nation, not even the Scots, can possess the whole earth.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XVIII.—UPON THE LECTURE PLATFORM
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HERE are four places where a man may lecture, exclusive of the open air,
-which is reserved for political demonstrations and religious meetings, and
-I arrange the four in order of demerit. The worst is, beyond question, a
-church, because ecclesiastical architects have no regard for acoustics,
-and a lecturer is apt to crack his voice yelling into the corners of
-churches.
-</p>
-<p>
-People come to a church, also, in a chastened mood, and sit as if they
-were listening to a sermon, so that the unhappy lecturer receives little
-encouragement of applause or laughter, and, if he happens to be himself a
-clergyman, is hindered from doing anything to enliven the audience.
-Besides, the minister of the church will feel it his duty to introduce the
-leading members of his congregation after the lecture, and a reception of
-this kind in the vestry is the last straw on a weary lecturer's back. He
-cannot, however, refuse because he is a fellow professional, and knows
-that his discourtesy may be set to the debit of the minister. Next in
-badness is a public hall, because it is so bare and cheerless, and on
-account of its size is difficult to fill with an audience, and still more
-difficult with the voice. Drill halls, especially, are heart-breaking
-places, because they are constructed for the voices of commanding officers
-shouting “right wheel,” “march,” “fire,” and such like martial
-exhortations.
-</p>
-<p>
-There is also another objection to halls from the lecturer's standpoint,
-and that is the accessibility of the platform. Usually there are two sets
-of steps, which the audience consider have been constructed in order that
-they may come on the platform in a body and shake hands with the lecturer.
-If a lecturer be a human being, he is always glad to see two or three of
-his fellow-creatures, especially if they say something encouraging, but
-just because he is a human being and has spoken for an hour and a half, he
-is apt to lose heart when he sees half of his large audience, say seven
-hundred people, processing in his direction.
-</p>
-<p>
-It is on such an occasion that he is full of gratitude to a manager who
-will come in with his travelling coat and march the lecturer out at the
-back door, as a man in haste to catch his train or on any other pretence.
-</p>
-<p>
-A lecturer may count himself fortunate, and need have no anxiety about
-circumstances, who speaks from the stage of a theatre, because he will
-have his whole audience within convenient compass, and focussed upon him,
-and although he comes down to a whisper he will still be heard. When you
-lecture at a theatre you are known as the “star,” and as you cross the
-dark and mysterious under-world behind the stage you hear some one crying:
-“This way to the star's room,” which generally turns out to be the room of
-the leading actress, where you may spend a quarter of an hour in seeing
-yourself in the innumerable mirrors, and examining the long array of
-toilet instruments on the table.
-</p>
-<p>
-Theatrical people are most sympathetic and good-natured, and although they
-may not have the faintest idea who you are or what you are going to do,
-they always wish you well, and congratulate you if there is a good house.
-Their own house may not have been good last night, but they are glad if
-yours is good to-day.
-</p>
-<p>
-The crowning advantage of a theatre to a nervous and hard-wrought lecturer
-is its seclusion. You get in and out by the stage door, and there is not
-one person in a hundred of your audience could find that door, and if he
-did he would not get admittance. From the floor to the stage there is no
-way, and when you pass behind the curtain you are beyond reach even of an
-interviewer.
-</p>
-<p>
-When I become an impresario I shall never allow my “star” to be seen,
-except on the platform, and after he has done his work I will remove him
-swiftly in a closed conveyance. In this way I shall lay him under a debt
-of gratitude, and keep him in good humour, and get out of him a third more
-work. As I have no idea of entering on this business at present, I offer
-the hint to all impresarios everywhere, with my respectful compliments.
-</p>
-<p>
-If a lecturer could always choose—which practically he never can do
-at all—he would prefer to lecture to a club of men and women in
-their club-room, or in the large drawing-room of a private house. He will
-then address a limited number of bright people who are at their best; he
-can talk as at a dinner-table and make his point easily; he can venture on
-an aside, or stop to tell an anecdote, and after an hour or so he will be
-as little fatigued as when he began. When the lecture is over he mixes
-with his audience and in a minute is a private individual. This is the
-very refinement and luxury of lecturing, which a lecturer enjoys only on
-rare occasions.
-</p>
-<p>
-Local arrangements differ very much, and some of them are rather trying to
-a lecturer. There are places where a regular procession is formed and
-marches to the platform, headed by a local dignitary, and made up of
-clergymen, magistrates, little millionaires, and public characters of all
-kinds and degrees. In midst thereof the lecturer marches like a criminal
-being taken to the scaffold.
-</p>
-<p>
-Once I discovered in the ante-room a magnificent embroidered robe, and the
-insane idea took possession of my mind that it was intended for the
-lecturer. Had it been put upon me there would have been no lecture, for I
-should have been smothered with its greatness and its grandeur. I was
-still regarding it with horror and perspiring freely when the chief
-magistrate of the city came in, and it was put on his shoulders by two
-liveried servants, who then decorated us all, from the chief magistrate
-down to myself, with flowers. The servants marched first into the hall,
-the great man followed, and I crept, following behind his majestic figure
-(which was received with frantic howls of applause), and this was the
-grandest entry I ever made upon the lecture platform.
-</p>
-<p>
-In some places there is a chairman—I shall have something to say
-about chairmen—and votes of thanks, first to the lecturer, then to
-the chairman and to other people who have had some connexion or other with
-the matter, till a third of the time is taken up by local talk and the
-lecturer is put to confusion.
-</p>
-<p>
-For votes of thanks I have personally an intense dislike, because the
-movers refer to one in terms which might suitably apply to William
-Shakespeare (one enthusiastic admirer preferred me to Shakespeare,
-because, although he classed us together as occupying a solitary position,
-I had the advantage of being more sentimental). As a lecturer on Scots
-subjects I have a horror of other speakers, because they feel it necessary
-to tell Scots stories without knowing the dialect, and generally without
-knowing the story.
-</p>
-<p>
-Certain places are very business-like in their arrangements, and the
-smartest in this respect is, curious to say, not in America, but in
-England. You are brought to the place of operation five minutes before the
-hour, and at two minutes to eight placed upon the platform. When the hand
-of the clock points to eight you begin to speak, and when the hand stands
-at nine you close. If you are one minute late in beginning, the audience
-grows restless, and if you are five minutes late in closing, they leave.
-There are no preliminaries and no after-talk, and you do your best with
-one of the most intelligent audiences any lecturer could address in sixty
-minutes.
-</p>
-<p>
-The most risky audience in my experience is afforded by the free lectures
-given in an English city, which is made up by men who have dropped in from
-the streets because the hall is open and because something is going on. If
-they are interested they will listen eagerly and reward the lecturer with
-enthusiastic applause, besides giving an irrelevant cheer occasionally for
-Old Ireland or Lord Roberts. If the audience is not interested they leave
-in solid blocks of fifty, without any regard to the lecturer's feelings,
-or the disturbance of their neighbours.
-</p>
-<p>
-The most sympathetic and encouraging audience a man can have are the
-students of an American ladies' college, because if he is nervous, as an
-Englishman is bound to be before three hundred bright American young
-women, they will catch his first point, and they will smile upon him and
-show that they believe there is something in him if he could only get it
-out, and create such a kindly atmosphere that he will rise to his height
-and do his best.
-</p>
-<p>
-This was how the students of a delightful college not very far from
-Philadelphia treated myself when I was almost ready to sink through the
-floor from sheer terror of facing so many young women, being a sisterless
-and daughterless man, and I wish to thank one young lady who sat in the
-front and smiled encouragement upon me until I lifted up my head and took
-heart.
-</p>
-<p>
-I have never utterly collapsed, and have never fled from the platform, but
-I was reduced to confusion and incoherence of speech when I opened a
-clubhouse for a company of women students at a certain American
-University, and my whole audience suddenly flopped down upon the floor as
-I began my little speech. As the floor had a beautiful carpet and there
-were no chairs, the young ladies no doubt did well for themselves, but as
-I looked down upon that fair flower-garden all my thoughts vanished, and I
-do not think that I uttered a grammatical sentence.
-</p>
-<p>
-American young women do not know that an Englishman is the most bashful
-creature on the face of the earth, and that he would rather face an
-audience of two thousand men from the streets than address twenty young
-women, every one as sharp as a needle and as pretty as a flower.
-</p>
-<p>
-My experience of chairmen is wide and varied, and I have lectured under
-the Presidency of some very distinguished and able men, but on the whole I
-would rather be without a chairman. There was one who introduced me in a
-single sentence of five minutes' length, in which he stated that as he
-would treasure every word I said more than pure gold he did not wish to
-curtail my time by a single minute. He then fell fast asleep, and I had
-the honour of wakening him at the close of the lecture. Had he slept
-anywhere else I should not have had the smallest objection, but his
-restful attitude in the high estate of the chair had an unedifying and
-discomposing effect on the audience.
-</p>
-<p>
-On the whole, I preferred that chairman to another who introduced me to
-the extent of twenty-five minutes, and occupied the time in commending to
-the exasperated audience the claims of a foundling asylum with which he
-had some charitable connexion. This time it was the lecturer who fell
-asleep and had to be wakened when the audience drove the chairman to his
-seat.
-</p>
-<p>
-A lecturer is also much refreshed amid his labour by the assurance of the
-chairman that he has simply lived upon his books for years, and has been
-looking forward to this evening for the last three months with high
-expectation, when after these flattering remarks he does not know your
-name, and can only put it before the audience after a hurried consultation
-with the secretary of the lecture course.
-</p>
-<p>
-My memory returns also with delight to a chairman who insisted that one
-object had brought them together, and that I was no stranger in that town
-because the whole audience before him were my friends, and then having
-called me Doctor Maclaren and Ian Watson, besides having hinted more than
-once at Mr. Barrie, introduced me to an uproarious audience as Mr. Ian
-John Maclaren Watson.
-</p>
-<p>
-It is, of course, my gain, and the loss of two more distinguished
-fellow-countrymen, that I should be hopelessly associated in the minds of
-many people with Mr. Crockett and Mr. Barrie. But when one speaker
-declared that I would be remembered by grateful posterity as the Stickit
-Minister, I was inclined to protest, for whatever have been my defects as
-a preacher, I still have succeeded in obtaining a church; and when another
-speaker explained he had gone three times to see my “Little Minister,” I
-felt obliged to deny myself the authorship of that delightful play.
-</p>
-<p>
-Allusions on the part of the audience, when they shook hands with me
-afterwards, I allowed to paas because there was not time to put things
-right; merely smiling at the mention of “A Window in Thrums,” and looking
-modest at the adjectives heaped upon “The Raiders.” My cynical humour was
-greatly tickled with the chairman, who had been very cordial with me in
-private, and who was understood by the public to have been closely
-identified with my visit to his city, when he not only escaped from the
-stage after he had introduced me, but also immediately left the theatre
-and cheerfully betook himself to his office without hearing one word of
-the lecture. Perhaps he had discovered from some casual remark of mine
-that I was not Mr. Barrie, and was at a loss to make out who I could be.
-</p>
-<p>
-With mayors and other public functionaries who have to speak six times a
-day on six different subjects, and who get a little confused as to which
-meeting they are attending, I have the utmost sympathy, and never have
-been discomposed by any reference to the management of hospitals or the
-fallacy of bimetallism, even though the references were very indifferently
-connected with the lecturer and his subjects.
-</p>
-<p>
-The labour of shaking hands afterwards with a considerable proportion of
-your audience is not only lightened by their kindness, but also much
-cheered by their conversation. After a few evenings in the United States I
-arrived at the rooted conviction that the majority of the American people
-belonged to the Scots race, and that America was the real Scotland. It was
-not only that native-born Scots came forward to welcome a
-fellow-countryman with an accent which was beyond all dispute and could be
-heard six yards off, and with allusions to Auchterarder which warmed your
-heart, but that every person seemed to be connected with Scotland.
-</p>
-<p>
-One belonged to a family which had emigrated from Scotland in the
-seventeenth century, and was anxious to know whether I could give him any
-information on the family tree. Another had married a Scots wife, and
-believed he owed his prosperity to her; a third was an admirer of Sir
-Walter Scott, and looked forward to visiting Scotland as the ambition of
-his life. And one lady, full of despair as she heard the Scots claims of
-the people around her, came and confessed frankly: “I am not Scots, and I
-have no relative a Scot, and none of our family married a Scot, but my
-sister has a Scots nurse: will that do?” I assured her it would, and that
-I was glad at last to meet a genuine American, because I had come to see
-the American people.
-</p>
-<p>
-I have a vivid recollection of one place where a clan had turned out to
-receive me, and I was escorted to the platform by a band of plaided
-warriors, who, headed by a piper, marched me in and ranged themselves
-round me on the platform. When the lecture was over, one clansman met me
-in the anteroom, and I hardly recognized him; he was about three inches
-taller and six inches bigger round the chest than before the lecture, and
-was as a man intoxicated, though not with strong drink.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Mr. Maclaren,” he said to me, “eh, but we are a michty people,” and he
-slapped his chest vigorously. I hinted that we had one or two faults to
-modify our perfection, but he was not in a mood for such consideration.
-“No worth mentioning,” he said, and departed in glory. The national prayer
-of our people is understood to be: “Lord, give us a good conceit of
-ourselves,” and this prayer in my compatriot's case had been wonderfully
-fulfilled.
-</p>
-<p>
-Audiences vary very much in excellence, and it is difficult to understand
-the reason, because you may have the most delightful and the most
-difficult from the same class of people. Audiences are like horses—some
-of them so hard in the mouth and spiritless that they almost pull your arm
-out of the socket, and others so bright and high-spirited that you hardly
-feel the reins in your hands, and driving—that is to say, speaking—is
-a delight.
-</p>
-<p>
-The ideal audience is not one which accompanies you from beginning to end
-with applause and laughter, but one that takes every point and enjoys it
-with intelligent reserve, so that your illustrations may be condensed into
-allusions, and a word conveys your humour. One of my pleasures as a
-lecturer was to test every audience by a certain passage which divided the
-sheep from the goats, and I think my enjoyment was even greater when they
-were all goats.
-</p>
-<p>
-It came into a reading from the <i>Briar-Bush</i> where the word
-“intoxication” occurs. My custom was to stop and apologise for the
-appearance of such a word in my book, and to explain that the word is not
-known in Scots speech. There are, I used to say, two reasons why a
-Scotsman does not employ the word. The first is that he is imperfectly
-acquainted with the painful circumstances to which this word is supposed
-to allude, and the second that a Scotsman considers that no one with a
-limited human intellect can know enough about the conditions of his
-fellow-creatures to make such a statement.
-</p>
-<p>
-When an audience took in the situation at once, then one could rest for a
-moment, since they required that time to appreciate the rigid temperance
-and conscientious literary accuracy of the Scotch people. When they took
-the statement in perfect seriousness, and one or two solemn reformers
-nodded their heads in high approval, then I wanted to go behind the
-curtain and shake hands with myself. More than once it was with difficulty
-I could continue in face of this unbroken seriousness, and once I broke
-down utterly, although I hope the audience only supposed I was laughing at
-some poor humour of my own.
-</p>
-<p>
-The cause of my collapse was not the faces of the audience, but the
-conduct of a brother Scot, whose head went down below the seat as he
-learned the two reasons why the word intoxicated is not used in Scotland.
-When he emerged from the depths he cast a glance of delight in my
-direction as to one who was true in all circumstances of his nation, and
-then he was composing himself to listen with fresh confidence to a
-lecturer who had given such pledges of patriotism, when he caught sight of
-the faces of the audience.
-</p>
-<p>
-As it dawned upon him that the audience had taken the statement literally,
-he was again obliged to go into retirement. Twice he made a brave effort
-to regain possession of himself, but as often the sight of the audience
-shook him to his foundation. At last he rose and left the theatre, but at
-the door he lingered to take one look at the unconscious audience, and
-then shaking his head in my direction with patriotic joy, he departed from
-the building, and I was obliged to imagine an execution in order to
-continue my lecture.
-</p>
-<p>
-The lecturer's nerves ought to be made of wire, for he never knows what
-may happen. There is one town in the United States where the express
-trains run down the main street, and you lecture there to an accompaniment
-of engine bells and the blowing-off of steam. When the music rises too
-high for the human voice, the lecturer in that town ought to abandon the
-contest and offer between the whistles a few remarks on the legislative
-power of American railways. These remarks will be vastly enjoyed by the
-audience.
-</p>
-<p>
-Behind the platform of one large hall is the lift of the next building,
-which is used at regular intervals of a minute, and you have your
-sentences punctuated by the whoop of the unseen lift till at last you can
-calculate the time and know that you have spoken ninety whoops, and it is
-nearly time to stop.
-</p>
-<p>
-One night I was arrested by the sound of steady snoring which could be
-heard over the larger part of the theatre, but although every one was in
-search for the offender, he could not be found. At last the sound was
-traced to the stage, and, as there was no one on the stage except myself,
-to be behind the curtain. One of the servants of the theatre had laid
-himself down there in order to enjoy the lecture, and that had proved of
-such a solid character that he had fallen into a fit of meditation, from
-which he was very rudely awakened.
-</p>
-<p>
-One evening in a Canadian town a fox terrier came in, and owing to some
-difference of opinion with a gentleman in the stalls, expressed himself in
-public. As there was to be a dog story in the lecture, I thought it well
-to explain that the terrier had been engaged to take part, but had broken
-in too soon. For a while the dog behaved with much propriety, and then
-there was a second outbreak.
-</p>
-<p>
-Six gentlemen combined to get that dog out of the theatre, but not without
-difficulty and danger. The terrier retired fighting.
-</p>
-<p>
-The platform does many good things for a lecturer; for one thing, it
-strengthens his voice; it brings him into contact with large bodies of his
-fellow-men, and it inspires him with humanity. Upon the platform he learns
-to command himself; to take disappointments like a man; and, above all, he
-gains a new conviction of the kindness and goodwill of large bodies of
-people whom he has never seen before and may never see again, and of whom
-he will ever think with a grateful heart.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XIX.—FOR THE SAKE OF A HORSE
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N the days of long ago I used to live in the summer-time upon a farm in
-one of the rich plains of Scotland, where the soil was deep and we could
-grow everything, from the fragrant red clover to the strong, upstanding
-wheat. One reason why our farm bore such abundant crops was its situation;
-for it lay, in the shape of the letter V, between two rivers which met
-upon our ground. One of the rivers was broad and shallow, and its clear
-water ran over gravel, brawling and fretting when it came upon a large
-stone, and making here and there a pleasant little fall. This river in the
-winter-time could rise high and run with a strong current, and there were
-days and sometimes weeks when we could not send our men and horses across
-its ford. We never hated this river, because, although it could be angry
-and proud when the snow was melting on the distant hill or a big
-thunder-cloud burst in the glens above us, it was never treacherous and
-sullen; it had no unexpected depths into which a man and horse might fall,
-but was open as the day, and its water was as bright. Wherefore I have
-kindly thoughts of that stream, and when the sun is hot in the city, and
-there is no unused air to breathe, I wish I were again upon its banks and
-could see it gleaming underneath the bushes as it sings its way past my
-feet.
-</p>
-<p>
-The other river was narrow, and ran in silence between its banks; or
-rather it did not run, but trailed itself along like a serpent, deep,
-black, and smooth. There was no end to its wicked cunning, for it
-pretended to be only three feet deep and it was twelve, and sometimes it
-hollowed out to itself a hole where a twenty-foot line would not touch the
-bottom. One of its worst tricks was to undermine the bank so that the
-green turf on which you stood became a trap, and, yielding beneath your
-feet, unless you were very dexterous, shot you into the river. Then unless
-you could swim, the river would drown you in its black water as if with
-fiendish delight.
-</p>
-<p>
-Over this river, also, we required to have a ford; but in this case it was
-not natural, for the bottom of this river was far below the surface of the
-water, and it was soft, deep clay. Across the river, therefore, the ford
-had to be built up with stones; and it was made in the shape of a
-horseshoe, so that any one crossing must follow a rough half-circle from
-bank to bank, and he had to keep to the line of the ford, for below it the
-water poured into a depth of thirty feet. When the river was low one could
-easily trace the ford, and there was no excuse for getting into danger;
-but if the river had been fed by the upland rains, then every sign of the
-ford was lost, and a man had to be very careful how he picked his horse's
-way. And all the time the wicked water would be bringing its weight to
-bear on him, in the hope of carrying him and his horse and everything else
-that was with him over the edge.
-</p>
-<p>
-This river we loathed, and at the thought of its wickedness and its
-tragedies—for twice I nearly lost my life in it—I still
-shudder, here in my study.
-</p>
-<p>
-One afternoon I went down to the ford in order to warn a plowman that he
-must not cross. That morning he had taken a load of grain to the railway-,
-station, and now he was coming back with the empty cart and two horses.
-During the day there had been rain upon the mountains, and the river was
-swollen so that every sign of the ford was lost.
-</p>
-<p>
-I stood high up upon the bank, and when he came down the road on the other
-side I shouted across the river—which was rising every minute—that
-he must not on any account attempt it, but must turn back and go round by
-the bridge. Of course he ought to have obeyed this order, and I am not
-going to say that he was wise in what he did; but safety would mean a
-détour of ten miles, and he knew not fear. It was from his breed that our
-Highland regiment got their recruits and more than one of our men had gone
-into the “Black Watch.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I'll risk it,” he cried from the other side; and he made his preparations
-for the daring enterprise, while I, on my side, could say and do nothing
-more. All that remained for me was to watch, and, if it were possible, in
-case of things coming to the worst, to give such help as I could from the
-bank.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was a heavy two-wheeled cart he had, with one horse in the shafts and
-another before, tandem-wise, and this kind of team could not be driven
-from the cart. The driver must walk, holding the reins of the tandem horse
-in his right hand, and, if necessary, guiding the horse in the shafts with
-his left; and so they entered the stream.
-</p>
-<p>
-After the horses had gone a few yards into the water they wished to stop;
-for they had an instinct of danger, all the more because they were not
-free, but were strapped and chained, so that it would be almost impossible
-for them to save their lives by swimming. Jock chided and encouraged them,
-calling them by name, and they went in without any more hesitation; for
-horses are full of faith, and trust their driver absolutely if they know
-his voice and love him. Each of our men had a pair of horses under his
-charge; and so close was the tie between the men and their horses that the
-pair would come to their driver in the field when he called them by name,
-and would allow another plowman to handle them only under protest.
-</p>
-<p>
-Very carefully did Jock guide his team round the farther bend of the
-horseshoe, but when they reached the middle of the stream the water
-reached his waist and was lapping round his chest. Of course he could not
-have stood had it not been that he was on the upper side, and had the
-support of the shaft, to which he clung, still holding the reins of the
-foremost horse and the bridle of the other.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Take care, Jock! for any sake, take care, man!” I yelled from my bank. It
-was poor advice, but one had to say something as he looked on the man and
-the horses, more than half covered by the stream, so lonely and helpless.
-“You are at the turn now”; for we knew that the bend of the shoe was at
-the middle of the stream.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It's a' richt,” came back the brave, honest voice. “We'll win through”;
-and now Jock turned the leader's head up-stream, and the cart began to
-move round on the nearer turn of the horseshoe. Yes, they would win
-through, for surely the worst was past, and I jumped upon the bank for
-very joy, but ever watched the slightest movement, while every inch seemed
-a mile and every moment an hour.
-</p>
-<p>
-Alas! there was no end to the deceit and wickedness of that river; for,
-owing to some slight bend at a little distance higher up on the opposite
-bank, the current ran with its main strength, not in the middle of the
-channel, but toward the place where I was standing, and into a black deep
-just at my feet. It beat upon the cart, and as I looked I could see the
-cart begin to yield, and to be carried sidewise off the track of the ford.
-I shouted—I know not what now; I think the plowman's name—but
-Jock already had felt himself going with the cart as it turned round. He
-called upon his horses: “Pull up, Star! Steady, lass!”—this to the
-mare in his hand.
-</p>
-<p>
-The intelligent creatures answered to his voice and made a valiant effort,
-Star plunging forward, and the mare—a wise old beast—straining
-herself to recover the cart. For an instant the cart's further wheel was
-pulled on to the track, and I saw the cart once more level in the water;
-and again I shouted, calling both man and horses by their names. Then the
-river, afraid that she was to be spoiled of her prey, put out all her
-strength. The cart yields and sinks on the lower side and begins to turn
-over. It is off the ford now, and will pull the horses after it, and all
-that can be done is for Jock to let go the horses, who are now struggling
-in desperation, and to save his own life. He could swim, and was a
-powerful man, forty inches and more round the chest, and a fellow, if you
-please, to toss the hammer on a summer evening.
-</p>
-<p>
-“For God's sake, let go the horses, Jock, and make for the bank!” And I
-went to the edge where he was likely to come, and lying down upon my
-chest, I twisted one arm round a sturdy bush, and was ready with the other
-hand to catch Jock if he should be fighting his way through the current
-and come within reach of shore.
-</p>
-<p>
-By this time the horse in the shaft was fighting on the edge of the abyss,
-and only the top of one side-board of the cart could be seen, and the
-upper shaft, which was standing straight out of the water. Star was
-screaming with terror—and a horse's scream is a fearful sound—for
-if only he could be free of the two chains that fastened him to the shaft,
-he, a powerful young horse, would soon reach safety where the road came
-out from the ford through the banks, up the slope, to dry land. And Jock,
-forgetful of himself, was determined to give Star his chance for life—Star,
-whom he had broken in as a colt, and taught to take an oatmeal cake out of
-his pocket, of whom he boasted in the markets, and for whom he had bought
-little brass ornaments to wear on his forehead and chest. The mare was
-beyond redemption, and must perish with the cart; she was old, and had
-done her work. But Star must not be drowned. Already he has loosened the
-near chain and on one side Star is free, and now, in the midst of that
-wild hurly-burly of plunging horses, Jock, holding on to the projecting
-shaft with one hand, is reaching with the other underneath the neck of the
-mare, to free the other chain from the farther shaft.
-</p>
-<p>
-He succeeded, as I took it, at the very last moment; for Star, now on the
-brink, made a desperate effort, and, shaking himself free of all
-entanglement, swam into the quieter water, just above where I had hoped to
-meet his driver.
-</p>
-<p>
-In another minute Star was standing on the road, shaking in every limb,
-and hanging his head between his fore legs, with all the strength and
-bravery taken out of him.
-</p>
-<p>
-Before he reached the bank, the cart and the mare, and poor Jock with
-them, had been swept over the edge of the unseen ford into the deep water
-below. Had Jock been free of the cart and horse he might have made some
-fight for his life, even in that caldron; but, from the marks upon his
-body, we judged that he had been struck, just when he loosed the chain, by
-the iron hoofs of the mare in her agony, and had been rendered
-unconscious.
-</p>
-<p>
-Within a second, horse and cart and man had disappeared, and the cruel
-river had triumphed and was satisfied.
-</p>
-<p>
-Three days afterward we rescued his body from her grasp; and when we
-carried it up to the bothy where he and his mates had lived together, the
-roughest of them felt that this man had been a hero.
-</p>
-<p>
-No doubt he ought not to have dared so much; but having dared, he did not
-flinch. His duty was that of every driver—to stick to the last by
-his horses—and he did it to the uttermost.
-</p>
-<p>
-He was a rough man, Jock, who never read anything except the stories in
-the weekly newspaper which used to circulate in the bothies. There were
-times when Jock took a glass too much on a fair-day at Muirtown, and then
-he was inclined to fight. His language, also, was not suited for polite
-society, and his temper was not always under perfect control.
-</p>
-<p>
-Let me say it plainly: Jock was nothing but a Scots plowman, and all he
-did that day was to save the life, not of a child or of a man, but of a
-cart-horse worth about £50. It was, however, his bit of duty as Jock
-understood it; all he had to give was his life, and he gave it without
-hesitation and without fear.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XX.—NO RELEVANT OBJECTION
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>EXT to the election of a minister nothing stirred the parish of Thomgreen
-like an election of elders, and it may be truthfully said that the people
-were far more concerned about the men whom they appointed to this sacred
-office than about the man whom they sent to represent them in Parliament.
-The people had also a keen sense of the kind of man who was fit to be an
-elder, and there was many a farmer whom they would have cheerfully elected
-to any board, and in whose hands they would have trusted any amount of
-money, but whom they would never have dreamt of making an elder. Persons
-who were by no means careful about their own life, and one would not have
-supposed had any great concern about the character of the officers of the
-Christian Church, had yet a fixed idea, and a very sound one, about the
-qualifications for an elder; and if one of themselves had been proposed
-would have regarded the idea as an insult, not to them but to the Church.
-“Me an elder,” he would have said; “for ony sake be quiet; there maun be
-nae jokin' on sich subjects. When you and me are made elders the kirk had
-better be closed.” For the word elder was synonymous in Thorngreen, and,
-indeed, in every right-thinking parish, not only with morality and
-integrity, but with gravity and spirituality.
-</p>
-<p>
-No parish could expect to have many men who filled the conditions, and
-Thorngreen had a standing grievance that one man who was evidently an
-elder by arrangement of providence would not accept the office. Andrew
-Harris, of Rochally, as he was commonly called, after the name of his
-farm, was of ancient Thorngreen blood, since his forbears had worked land
-in the parish for many generations, and he himself had succeeded his
-father, who was also an elder for thirty years. There was no sounder
-farmer than Rochally, and what he had done by draining, limeing, and
-skilful seeding was known unto all men; no straighter man in a bargain,
-for the character of a young horse from Rochally was better than a written
-document; no friendlier man in the kirkyard on a Sunday or at Muirtown
-markets, and no more regular and attentive hearer in kirk. Beyond all
-that, the parish knew, although it never said such things, that Rochally
-was a religious man, who not only had worship in his house, with his men
-servants and his women servants present, but also worshipped God in all
-Christian living from year to year. He was also a man of substance, and if
-that could be got with other things, the parish preferred it in an elder,
-and he gave liberally to the Free Kirk, of which, indeed, he was the
-mainstay. If he was not married, and was never likely now to marry, it
-could not be helped, but there was nothing else wanting to make him the
-perfect model of an elder.
-</p>
-<p>
-As regularly as there was a meeting for the election of elders, which
-happened about every five years, the name of Mr. Andrew Harris, farmer of
-Rochally, was proposed and seconded, and about to be placed on the
-nomination form, when Rochally himself rose, and quietly but very firmly
-requested that his name be dropped, “for reasons which are sufficient to
-my own conscience.” And although three ministers in succession, and a
-generation of elders, had pleaded privately with Rochally, and had used
-every kind of argument, they could not move him from his position. His
-nomination was felt on each occasion to be a debt due to his character and
-to the spiritual judgment of the congregation; but the people had long ago
-despaired of his consent. Had they consulted his wishes they would never
-have mentioned his name; but, at any rate, he made a point of attending,
-and at once withdrawing. They were obstinate, and he was obstinate, and
-the event had become a custom at the election of elders in the Free Kirk.
-</p>
-<p>
-No one could even guess why Rochally refused office, and every one in the
-Free Kirk was a little sore that the best and most respected member on
-their roll should sit in his back seat Sunday after Sunday, and attend
-every week meeting, and give the largest subscriptions, and also gamer the
-utmost respect from without, and yet not be an elder. It was also felt
-that if his name could only be printed on the nomination paper and placed
-before the people, and the people unanimously elected him, as they would
-do, then it would be hard for him to refuse, and if he did refuse he would
-have to do what he had not done yet—give his reasons. If they could
-only hold the meeting without his being present, or if, by any innocent
-ruse, he could be kept from the meeting, then half the battle would be
-won; and that is how it came to pass that the minister and elders of
-Thomgreen Free Kirk stole a march upon Rochally. They had been thinking
-for some time of adding to the eldership, for Essendy, the father of the
-Session, had “won awa'” at eighty-seven, and Wester Mains could only sit
-on sunny days in the garden; and while they were turning the matter over
-in their minds—for nothing was done hurriedly in Thomgreen—it
-spread abroad that Rochally was going away for the unprecedented period of
-four weeks, partly to visit a sister's son who had risen to high position
-in England, and partly to try some baths for the mild rheumatism which was
-his only illness. It seemed a providential arrangement, and one which they
-must use wisely, and if anything could have been read on the severe
-countenances of Thomgreen, Rochally might have guessed that some
-conspiracy was afoot when he bade his brethren good-bye after Kirk one
-Sabbath.
-</p>
-<p>
-As soon as it was known that he had fairly departed, and as it was
-perfectly certain there could be no communication with him from his home
-except a weekly report of the briefest and most prosaic kind by the
-foreman, the Session (that is, the Court of Elders) was called together,
-and on two successive Sundays the people were summoned to a meeting for
-the nomination of elders. It was held on the Monday following the second
-Sunday, and was attended by almost the whole congregation. Six names were
-proposed for three vacancies, but, of course, the climax of the
-proceedings was the nomination of Mr. Andrew Harris, farmer at Rochally,
-and the insertion of his name on the paper of nomination. The nomination
-papers were given out on the following Sunday, and on the fourth and last
-Sunday of Rochally's absence were returned into the hands of the Session.
-Before he came home the Session had met, and as every single communicant,
-without exception, had voted for Mr. Andrew Harris, farmer at Rochally,
-the Session declared him elected, and when he sat in his pew on the
-following Sunday he heard the edict for the ordination of three elders on
-that day fortnight, and the first name was his own.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was creditable to the good manners of the people that though they held
-their breath at the critical moment, none of them looked even sideways to
-the pew where Rochally sat alone; but the minister's eye fell on him from
-the pulpit, and as he noticed Rochally start and flush, and grow pale,
-while a look of pain came over his face, the minister became anxious, and
-began to regret their well-intentioned plot. And when, according to the
-custom of the kirk, he announced that the aforesaid persons would be
-ordained this day fortnight, unless “some valid objection to their life
-and doctrine be stated to the Kirk Session at a meeting to be held for
-that purpose before the service on Wednesday evening,” and when, even at
-that distance, he could see Rochally's hand tighten upon the door of his
-pew and his head fall forward upon his breast for an instant, as if he
-were in pain, he almost wished that they had not meddled with the secret
-affairs of a man's life. The minister was not surprised when Rochally did
-not call at the manse on Monday or Tuesday to say that he could not accept
-the election, although that was within his power, and he was not
-surprised, although much grieved, when he saw Rochally standing in the
-shadow of the trees not far from the vestry where the Kirk Session met.
-Although he had not the faintest idea of the reason, he was now afraid of
-what was going to happen, and the elders, as they came in one by one,
-having passed Rochally, who stood apart among the trees, and gave no sign
-of recognition, were uneasy, and had a sense of calamity. They knew
-nothing either, and were not able even to imagine anything; but they also,
-having seen Rochally and caught a faint glimpse of his face, would fain
-have burned the nomination papers, and cancelled the whole election.
-</p>
-<p>
-The court was opened with prayer, in which the minister was very earnest
-that they should be all guided by the Spirit of God and know His will. And
-then the minutes were read, wherein the names of those elected were
-mentioned, after which the minister declared the time had arrived for
-receiving objections to the life and doctrine of the aforesaid persons,
-and the beadle, being summoned from the dark kirk where he had been
-sitting, was commanded to do his duty. Thereupon, having opened the outer
-door of the vestry, as being a public place, he looked into the darkness,
-and called upon any persons who could make valid objection to the life or
-doctrine of Andrew Harris, farmer at Rochally, that he should not be
-ordained an elder, to come forward and declare the same. Many a time had
-the beadle made this challenge, and never before had it been answered, but
-now, out from the darkness, came Rochally himself, and entered the vestry.
-For a moment he was dazzled by the light of the lamp, though it was never
-very bright, and as he stood before the Session he passed his hand over
-his face. Then he stepped forward to the table, and, leaning heavily on it
-with one hand, Rochally unveiled his secret.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Moderator and Elders of the Kirk, I stand here in answer to your
-commandment, and in obedience to my own conscience, to give you strong
-reasons why Andrew Harris should never be ordained an elder in Christ's
-Kirk, and why he is not worthy even to take the sacrament.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I ken well that my brethren have often wondered why I wouldna allow my
-name to be mentioned for the eldership, and I have often feared that they
-judged me as one who despised the call of the kirk, and wouldna put his
-hand to the plough. If they did so, they were wrang, for God knows how I
-have honoured and loved the Church, and He knows how glad and proud a man
-I would have been to carry the vessels of the Lord. But I dauma, I dauma.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It micht have been better if I had told the reason years ago, and saved
-mysel' and the brethren much trouble; but it is hard for the Scots heart
-to open itsel', and a man is jealous of his secret.' Maybe I sinned in not
-confessing to the kirk in this place as I did elsewhere, and as I
-confessed to my God. Gin it be so, I have suffered, and now the Lord's
-hand is heavy upon me.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Lang years ago,” and the strong man trembled, but no elder so much as
-lifted his eyes, “I lived for a year, although none here will mind of it,
-in another parish, where my father had a farm, and there, when I was a
-young man, though no one here knows of it, being careless in my walk and
-conversation, and resisting the Grace of God, I fell, and sinned against
-the law of Moses and of Christ.
-</p>
-<p>
-“What the sin was it matters not now; but it was a great sin, such as
-nothing but the blude o' Christ can cleanse away, and the guilt of it was
-heavy upon my soul. God was merciful unto me, and His Spirit moved me to
-that repentance which needeth not to be repented of. Sic reparation as I
-could make I made, and them that were injured I satisfied; but I have
-never been satisfied. They're all dead now that had to do with it, long
-before they died they had forgotten it; but I have never forgotten it, and
-the long years have never wiped it from my memory.
-</p>
-<p>
-“There's ae man I envy every day, and mair the nicht than ever; no the man
-who is rich and powerful, na, na, it is the man whose life is clean and
-white fra his boyhood until this hour, who can turn over the pages and let
-every man look on. One chapter o' my life I read alone every day, and it
-canna be blotted out from before my eyes. Their hands maun be dean which
-bear the vessels of the Lord, and my hands arena clean; wherefore I take
-objection, being a true witness against the life of Andrew Harris, and
-declare he is not fit to be an elder of the kirk.”
- </p>
-<p>
-While Rochally was still standing, the minister knelt down, and the elders
-with him; but Rochally stood, and the minister began to pray. First of
-all, he confessed the sins of their youth and of later years till every
-man's soul lay bare before his own eyes and the eyes of God, then he
-carried them all, their lives and their sins, unto the Cross of Calvary,
-and magnified before God the sacrifice for sin and the dying love of the
-Saviour, and then he lifted up their souls in supplication unto God upon
-His Throne, and besought the Judge of all, for Christ's sake, to cast
-their transgressions behind His back and into the depths of the sea; and,
-finally, he besought God to grant unto them all the assurance of His mercy
-and the peace which passeth all understanding to possess their hearts and
-minds in Christ Jesus. But he made no mention of Rochally or Rochally's
-sin, so that one would have supposed it was the minister and the elders,
-and not Andrew Harris, who were at the Bar.
-</p>
-<p>
-When they rose from their knees more than one elder was weeping, and every
-man's face was white and serious, and still Rochally stood as if he
-desired to go, but was not able till the minister gave the decision of the
-court. The Spirit of the Holy Ministry, which is the most awful office
-upon earth, and the most solemn, descended in special measure upon the
-minister, a man still young and inexperienced, but who was now coming out
-from the holy place of the Most High.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Andrew Harris, I ask you, in the name of the Kirk whom the Lord loved and
-washed from her sins in His own blood, lovest thou the Lord Jesus Christ?”
- Then the minister and the elders faded from before Rochally's eyes, and
-the faithful, honest man who had sinned so long ago, and wept so bitterly,
-stood face to face with the Master.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Lord,” said he, for the first time lifting up his head, “Thou knowest all
-things; Thou knowest that I love Thee.”
- </p>
-<p>
-It was after midnight when the minister wrote out the minute of that
-meeting, and it states that an objection was taken to the life of Andrew
-Harris; but the Session ruled that it was not relevant, in which ruling
-the objector acquiesced, and the Session therefore appointed that Andrew
-Harris, farmer at Rochally, be ordained on the day appointed to the office
-of elder in the Free Kirk of Thomgreen.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XXI.—WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN Carmichael was Free Kirk minister of Dramtochty, and in the days of
-his youth, he had casual ways, and went at his own free will. He never
-came across the moor behind his manse on a summer day, and entered the
-cool pine wood which separated it from the ploughed land, without sitting
-down beside a certain pool of a burn which ran through the fringe of the
-wood. Because the water broke over a little rock and then gathered in a
-cup of gravel, and there was a heather bank where he could he as
-comfortably as in his favourite study chair, which had seen the Rebellion,
-but had changed its covering as well as its creed more than once since
-then; because the Highland cattle came to drink at that pool if you were
-not fussy and suspicious; and because all the sounds of the moor—the
-bleating of the sheep, the cry of the grouse, and the wail of the whaup
-and the drone of the bees—mingled in one music, and fell pleasantly
-upon your ear. “For five minutes only,” he said to himself, and then some
-Highland cows, with their absurd little calves, arrived, and would have
-considered it ill-mannered for him to rise; and he fell a-thinking while
-time flew. He rose with a start and hurried down to the main road, and
-made for the bridge over the Tochty, fearful lest he should be too late
-when the messenger came with momentous tidings from the telegraph office
-at Kildrummie.
-</p>
-<p>
-For two years the Glen had been in the most delightful state of
-intellectual ferment, and it was freely said by those who could remember
-that conversation had not risen to such a high level for fifty years, not
-even during '43. It goes without saying that the subject which exercised
-the minds and tongues of the Glen had to do, not with markets, but with
-Kirks; and while many had feared that the golden age of the Disruption
-would never be repeated in Drumtochty, when children were taught the
-doctrine of spiritual independence as they were supping their porridge,
-and women spoke freely about the principle of “Coordinate Jurisdiction
-with Mutual Subordination” as they hoed turnips in the fields, even Jamie
-Soutar was compelled to allow that the present debate had points of
-excellence altogether its own. While the spirit of disruption had
-wonderfully sharpened the edge of the intellect, the new spirit of concord
-which was abroad had still more powerfully quickened the feelings of the
-heart. By the fireside, where the guidwife darned the stockings and the
-guidman read the <i>Muirtown Advertiser</i> from the first word of the
-advertisements to the last word of the printer's name, out at work where
-they were planting potatoes or reaping the com, on the way to market as
-they walked down to Kildrummie station on Friday morning or crammed
-themselves by fives and sixes into Hillocks' dog-cart, but most of all in
-the kirkyard or at the Free Kirk door, men and women had been discussing
-with unswerving honesty and amazing subtlety, but with great goodwill and
-eager longing, how the differences between the Free Kirk and the
-Established could be reconciled, and upon what terms of honour and
-self-respect they could be united so that there should be again one Kirk
-in Scotland, as in the former days. According to the light which
-Providence had been pleased to give to other parishes, which was as
-twilight to the sunlight of Drum-tochty, they also argued this great
-affair, till even Kildrummie had pronounced ideas on the subject; and
-Rabbi Saunderson, the minister of Kilbogie, had announced a course of
-twenty-five sermons on the “Principle of Unity in the Christian Church,
-considered biblically, theologically, historically, and experimentally.”
- The ecclesiastics on both sides had not regarded the movement with
-conspicuous favour, and, while stating that the end in view was not only
-admirable but one they had always desired, they felt it their duty to
-point out difficulties. They mentioned so many, indeed, and expounded them
-so faithfully, that it would not have been wonderful if the people had
-lost heart and abandoned a hopeless enterprise; for as a rule it had been
-the ecclesiastics who spoke and the people who kept silence; the
-ecclesiastics who passed measures and the people who paid for them. This
-time, however, the younger ministers had taken the matter into their own
-hands, and refused to serve themselves heirs to past controversies or to
-bind themselves to perpetuate ancient divisions; they were men of another
-age, and intended to face the new situation. There had been enough
-dividing in Scotland since the days of the Covenanters; it was time there
-should be some uniting, and when they were at it they wanted
-thorough-going and final union. And the people, who in every country
-parish had, Sabbath after Sabbath for more than a generation, passed one
-another in opposite directions going to their kirks, began to inquire why
-they should not all go in one direction and meet under one roof as their
-fathers had done; and when people began to ask that question, both with
-their heads and with their hearts, it was bound to be answered in one way.
-</p>
-<p>
-The ecclesiastics had yielded under pressure, and as Carmichael went down
-to the bridge he recalled, with a keen sense of humour, their marvellous
-proceedings and the masterly game which had been played by the
-diplomatists of the Kirks, their suave expressions of brotherly love,
-their shrewd foresight of every move, their sleepless watchfulness of one
-another, their adroit concessions which yielded nothing, their childlike
-proposals which would have gained everything, and their cheerful
-acquiescence in every delay. But the temper of the people was not to be
-trifled with, and if the young party among the clergy were not skilled in
-the wiles of Church Courts, they had considerable vigour of speech, and
-the managers of affairs were given to understand that they must bring
-things quickly to a head. Early last spring the leader of the Free Kirk
-had submitted his terms, which the Established Kirk men studied together
-for three days and then read in seven different ways, and they in turn
-submitted their proposals, which were so simple and direct that the great
-Free Kirk man was genuinely disappointed, and wished that it had been his
-lot to negotiate with a Roman cardinal. But the people were getting
-impatient, and when the Assemblies met in the end of May, the pleasant
-spring-time, the terms had been adjusted, and Carmichael ran over them as
-he came down the near road through Hillocks' farm and pronounced them
-good. That the Free Church and the Established should unite together; that
-its legal title should be the Church of Scotland; that it should retain
-the ancient endowments and all the accumulated funds of both the former
-Churches; that the newly-constituted Church of Scotland should cease its
-legal connexion with the State, but maintain the old parochial system;
-that the new Church should re-arrange its resources so as to meet every
-religious and moral want in Scotland, and work with the State for the
-well-being of the Scots Commonwealth. The motions were proposed about the
-same time in the two Assemblies, in speeches worthy of the occasion: in
-the Established Kirk by a Scots noble; in the Free Kirk by the ablest
-ecclesiastical statesman of his day; Carmichael was thankful that he was
-in the Free Kirk Assembly when the motion was carried, with tears and
-cheers, none objecting, and that he was in time, with a fearful struggle,
-to get his head within the door of the Tolbooth, when the ministers and
-elders of the Established Kirk stood up as one man at the bidding of their
-moderator, and before Her Majesty's Lord High Commissioner, and declared
-for union; and thankful that he was one of the crowd that poured out of
-both Assemblies in the High Street of Edinburgh and heard the bells of St.
-Giles, which had been the witness of many a fierce conflict, ringing out
-the news of peace and concord through the grey capital of the nation.
-</p>
-<p>
-There was still one risk to be run and one barrier to be surmounted, for
-the concordat of the Church required the sanction of Parliament. Through
-the summer days the battle had been fought in the lobbies and committee
-rooms of the House of Commons, and that afternoon it was to be decided;
-and up to the last there was a chance that the bill might be thrown out,
-and the heart's desire of Scotland once more refused at Westminster. For
-there were cross-currents which no man could calculate; there were stiff
-old Tories who hated the idea of the Church being disestablished; keen
-Radicals who were determined that the Church should be also disendowed;
-Episcopalians who were eager that the title of the Church of Scotland
-should be left open to be claimed by that respectable, though limited,
-dissenting community, which traces its descent through Archbishop Sharpe
-and John Graham of Claverhouse; and a balance of men who disliked all
-Churches equally, and were always ready to hinder religion, when they
-could get an opportunity. If the bill were thrown out it would be a sad
-calamity, and Lord Kilspindie had promised to telegraph to Dr. Davidson
-the moment the bill passed the Commons; for it had been taken first in the
-Lords (and carried with a brisk fight), and Carmichael proposed to meet
-the messenger at Tochty bridge, and escort him to the manse.
-</p>
-<p>
-It did not, however, surprise Carmichael to find the minister of the
-parish of Drumtochty walking to and fro on the level ground from which the
-wonderful arch of the ancient bridge sprang, and talking affably with
-Hillocks on the prospects of harvest, but keeping all the time a watchful
-eye on the distant point on the other side of the Glen where the road
-emerged from the pine woods and the Kildrummie messenger would first be
-seen.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Glad to see you, Carmichael,” said the doctor, with just the faintest
-suggestion of excitement in his manner; “I left a message at the manse
-that if you called they were to send you down to the bridge, but I rather
-suspected you would be here. For myself, I frankly confess I could neither
-sit nor read, so I just turned out to wait for the messenger. It's a
-historical day, Carmichael, charged with great issues for Scotland.”
- </p>
-<p>
-They climbed the stiff ascent, and stood on the arch through which the
-Tochty ran, clear and sparkling, that summer evening.
-</p>
-<p>
-“More than a century of Scots history has run since this bridge was built,
-some of it sad enough; but, please God, we shall see good days before they
-build the new bridge. What hinders the messenger? Kilspindie expected to
-telegraph by five at latest, and now it's six o'clock.” The doctor snuffed
-uneasily and wiped his eye-glasses. “I wish I had gone down to Kildrummie.
-What's that, Carmichael, on the crest of the hill? Your eyes are quicker
-than mine.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It's a man on horseback, and we'll soon know who he is, for he's riding
-hard. I should recognize that horse. Why, it's Macfarlane's chestnut that
-brings me up from the station in forty minutes and something to spare, and
-Macfarlane's riding her himself. If the old chap hasn't saddled a horse
-and ridden up to bring us the news post-haste! Isn't he going! He would
-never come that speed if it were bad news. They've let it out at the post
-office, as sure as we're standing here; and, look, Macfarlane has seen us.
-He's waving his hat, doctor; the bill has passed, and the Kirks are one.”
- They went down the other side of the bridge, and Carmichael did not look
-at Dr. Davidson, for the doctor's stately step was broken, and he was
-again polishing his eyeglasses. The chestnut was covered with dust, and so
-was Macfarlane, and the mare herself seemed to be triumphant when
-Macfarlane reined her in on the other side of the bridge.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Half expeckit to see you here, gentlemen,” for even Macfarlane, dealer in
-horses, in coals, in manure, and hirer of carriages, was discomposed.
-“Message came in at 6.48; had the mare ready; left at 6.60; done the three
-miles in thirteen and a half minutes”—all this in one breath; then,
-jumping off his horse and taking off his hat, “A telegram for you, Dr.
-Davidson.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He patted the chestnut on the neck for her good going, and tried to look
-as if he did not know what was in the envelope. Dr. Davidson handed the
-envelope to Carmichael, who understood the reason, and, stripping it off,
-handed him the message.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Quiet, lass, quiet!” said Macfarlane. Carmichael straightened himself,
-and raised his hand to that weather-beaten soft hat of his, which was the
-scandal of the Presbytery; the doctor unfolded the paper with a shaking
-hand, a flush passed over his face, the tears—which already were in
-his eyes—broke and rolled down his face, and he read out with a
-trembling voice—“Bill carried by a majority of two hundred and
-thirty-three. God bless the Kirk of Scotland, one again and for ever!—Kilspindie.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Hip, hip, hurrah!” Carmichael was very young, but Macfarlane might have
-known better, who was waving his cap with one hand and holding the dancing
-mare with the other; while Hillocks was a spectacle of glory, standing on
-the summit of the bridge and throwing in a hoarse shout. Dr. Davidson took
-no part in the cheer, for he had turned aside and was looking to the hill
-where the Parish Kirk peeped out from the trees, and there were many
-thoughts in his mind.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Dr. Davidson,” said Carmichael, still holding his hat in his hand, and
-tuning his voice to affectionate respect, “you are minister this day unto
-every man in the parish of Drumtochty, and you will add to all your past
-kindnesses by letting me be your faithful assistant.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The old man took Carmichael's hand in both his own, but for once he could
-find no words.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Ye saw them gang oot, doctor, and ye'll see them come back,” said
-Hillocks, descending from the top of the bridge.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I honoured them when they went out,” replied the doctor, finding speech
-again, “and I love them coming back to their old Kirk.” It was agreed
-between Carmichael and the doctor that half an hour from that time the
-bells of the two kirks should be rung, and though neither bell dominated
-more than the distance of three fields, Dr. Davidson declared that the
-Free Church bell was distinctly audible in the kirkyard; while a group of
-Free Kirk men gathered round their door remarked to one another that they
-had never noticed before how sweet was the sound of the Old Kirk bell. And
-they were speaking true, for the bells were ringing in their hearts. While
-Parliament had been deliberating on the bill, the two Kirks had been
-making their arrangements in faith for the uniting of congregations, and
-it had already been determined that Dr. Davidson and Carmichael should be
-joint ministers of the parish of Drumtochty, and that the congregations
-should worship in the Parish Kirk. When there was a will in Drumtochty
-there was always a way, and arrangements were quickly made that the parish
-should gather again on the following Sabbath into the kirk where their
-fathers had worshipped, and round which the dust of generations lay. At
-eleven o'clock the Free Church congregation met for the last time as a
-separate flock, in the building which they had erected with great
-sacrifice, and which was sanctified by many sacred memories; and then,
-after Carmichael had conducted a short service, and Donald Menzies, one of
-the elders, had offered up a prayer of thanksgiving wherein he carried the
-congregation with him to the Mercy Seat, and moved even the stiffest, they
-sang the second Paraphrase, “O God of Bethel! by whose hand,” and
-Carmichael pronounced the benediction, with more than one pause between
-the words. Then they went out through the door by which, more than a
-generation ago, the congregation had entered, obeying their conscience,
-and testifying for the freedom of Christ's Kirk. Without any marshalling
-or vain ceremony they fell into a procession, and this was the order in
-which they went. First came Carmichael in his gown and bands, his M.A.
-hood and college cap, carrying in his hand his mother's Bible, and beside
-him Bumbrae, Donald Menzies, Lauchlan Campbell, and the other elders, all
-dressed as for the Sacrament. Behind them followed the choir, and then the
-people as they pleased, family by family, parents and children together.
-Thrice on the road they broke into singing, and these were the Psalms they
-sang—the xcviii.—
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“O sing a new song to the Lord,
-For wonders He hath done:
-His right hand and His holy arm
-Him victory hath won”;
-</pre>
-<p>
-and the lxxxiv.—
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“How lovely is Thy dwelling-place,
-O Lord of hosts, to me!
-The tabernacles of Thy grace
-How pleasant, Lord, they be!”
- </pre>
-<p>
-and the cxxxiii.—
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“Behold, how good a thing it is,
-And how becoming well,
-Together such as brethren are
-In unity to dwell!”
- </pre>
-<p>
-They began to sing this Psalm as they were ascending the height on which
-the Parish Kirk stood, and when they reached the top of the hill the sound
-of the Psalm was still in the air. Then Carmichael and the elders beheld a
-heartening spectacle. Dr. Davidson and, his people had also met for
-worship in their kirk, and, being told by a swift messenger that their
-brethren were at hand, they had come out through the kirkyard and ranged
-themselves in two rows along the roadside; while in the centre of the high
-road, and in front of his people, stood the parish minister, with his
-ruling elder, Drum-sheugh, by his side. The two ministers faced one
-another, and the people stood perfectly still; the glorious sunshine
-poured down upon their heads, and on either side the fields were golden
-unto the harvest. Clear but tender was Dr. Davidson's voice. “Reverend and
-dearly-beloved brother, I greet you, your elders, and your congregation in
-the name of the Lord, and, as senior minister of this parish, I bid you
-welcome to the Kirk of Drumtochty.”
- </p>
-<p>
-And then Carmichael—“Reverend and honoured father in the Gospel of
-our Lord Jesus Christ, my people and I thank God that there is now one
-congregation in Drumtochty, and that you are our minister.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Drumsheugh grasped Bumbrae's hand, but what passed between those two
-worthy men no one heard, and then Dr. Davidson and Carmichael headed the
-united procession, with the elders behind them; and as they moved down the
-sideway between the hedges, the Old Kirk folk fell in with the Free Kirk,
-so that they passed through the kirkyard one united company, and as they
-went they sang the Psalm cxxii.—
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“I joy'd when to the house of God,
-Go up, they said to me.
-Jerusalem, within thy gates
-Our feet shall standing be.”
- </pre>
-<p>
-And by a happy coincidence they were singing the last words as the
-ministers and elders went in through the door—
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“Now, for my friends' and brethren's sakes,
-Peace be in thee, I'll say.
-And for the house of God our Lord,
-I'll seek thy good alway.”
- </pre>
-<p>
-It had been arranged between them, who were indeed as father and son, that
-Dr. Davidson should take the service and Carmichael should preach the
-sermon, and when the people were all seated, neither Established nor Free
-now, but all Scots Kirk men with one heart, one faith, one love, Dr.
-Davidson gave out another of the glorious Psalms, whose ancient traditions
-and wealth of spiritual emotion had served the people so well that day.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Let us worship God this day, and sing unto the praise of His glorious
-name Psalm cxxvi.”
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“When Sion's bondage God turn'd back,
-As men that dream'd were we.”
- </pre>
-<p>
-But he was not able to read further, and the congregation, who understood,
-and whose own hearts were full, broke into the singing; and at the noise
-thereof Carmichael awoke, for it was only a dream.
-</p>
-<p>
-“What might have been,” he said to himself, with wistful regret, as he
-descended the hill, and then his heart lifted, “and, please God, what is
-going to be before my day is done.”
- </p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XXII.—THE VISION OF THE SOUL
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HERE were many modest homes in the Glen, but the humblest of them all was
-that of Bell Robb, where she lived with Jean, her sister, and blind
-Marjorie. It had only one room, and that had only one window. A tall man
-could stand upright only in the centre, and the hearth was so near the top
-of the chimney that it was a fight in the winter time between the fire and
-the snow, and the snow used to win the battle before morning. There was a
-box bed at the back of the room where Bell and Jean slept, and the
-lowliest of little beds just below the window had been Marjorie's home
-night and day for many a long year, because she had not only been blind
-from her birth, but since middle age had also been paralyzed. There was a
-table and two chairs, and a dresser on which the humble stock of crockery
-was carefully displayed. From above the fireplace the humblest of oil
-lamps, called a cruizie, projected, but the cottage had two brass
-candlesticks which were never used, but were polished like unto fine gold
-and were the glory of the home.
-</p>
-<p>
-If providence had been unkind to any person in the Glen it was to
-Marjorie, for her birth had been a tragedy, and the helpless child, blind
-and feeble, had been flung upon the world. She had never known father or
-mother, she had never seen the primroses in the Tochty woods when spring
-made her first visit, nor the purple of the heather in autumn time, nor
-the golden com in the field before her door, nor the sunshine upon the
-Burn down below. She had no kinsfolk to take charge of her, she had no
-claim upon any one except the poor law authorities, and had she been bom
-into a parish like Kilbogie the workhouse had been her only asylum. But it
-was a kindly little world into which this poor waif and stray had come—a
-world which had not many words nor much money, whose ways were curious and
-whose manner was austere, but whose heart was big and warm. Drumtochty had
-its laws of public policy which Government itself was never able to
-over-ride, which every man and woman in the Glen set themselves to
-enforce. And one was that no native of the Glen should ever be sent to the
-coldness and bondage of a workhouse; that however poor he might be and
-however long he lived, he must be kept in the shelter of our pine woods
-where he could see the Tochty run. As a matter of fact, this was not so
-great a burden on the neighbours, for Drumtochty folk had a rooted
-objection, which not even the modern spirit creeping up into the Glen
-could overcome, against being paupers or depending on any person save on
-themselves and God. Drumtochty had no pity for wastrels and very little
-sympathy with shiftless people, but Marjorie, poor Marjorie, she had the
-spirit to work—we judged she had about the highest spirit in the
-Glen—but what could she do without sight and with her trembling
-hands? So the Glen adopted Marjorie, and declared in wayside talk and many
-a kirkyard conference that she had given them more than they had ever
-given to her.
-</p>
-<p>
-Bell Robb and Jean, her sister, earned their living by hoeing turnips,
-lifting potatoes, binding at harvest and gathering the stones off the
-field—which were ever coming up to the surface in our poor thin soil—and
-they made between them on an average from January to December nearly
-twelve shillings a week. They declared that being two solitary women
-providence had intended they should have Marjorie, and now for thirty
-years she had been with them, and they spent upon her twice as much as
-they received in grants from the parish inspector, and declared with
-brazen effrontery that they were making a little fortune out of her. They
-also gave sixpence a month to the sustentation fund of the Free Kirk, and
-a shilling at a great collection, and if there was any little presentation
-in the Glen they had a shilling for that also. How they did those things
-was only known to God. Their faces were lined by labour and burned brown
-by the sun, but they looked well in the light of the Sacrament, for they
-were partakers of the Lord's Cross; their hands were rough and hard with
-field labour, but very gentle and kindly when they waited upon Marjorie.
-And when Marjorie began to relate the catalogue of her blessings, she
-always put next to her Saviour Bell and her sister Jean. The two sisters
-have had their humble funeral years ago, and their tired bodies with
-Marjorie's body of humiliation were laid to rest in the old kirkyard, and
-theirs was then the reward of Him who said, “I was a stranger and ye took
-me in.” Drumsheugh, returning from Muirtown market one afternoon by road,
-dropped in to pass the time o' day with Marjorie—leaving half a
-pound of tea upon the dresser—and was arrested by the humility of
-her bed. He was overheard saying “Sall” to himself as he returned to the
-main road with the tone of a man who had come to a resolution, and next
-Friday he drove up from Muirtown with a small iron bedstead, arranged in
-parts over his dogcart, while he sat with dignity upon the mattress. The
-installation of Marjorie into her new couch was the event of her life, and
-for weeks the Glen dropped in, partly to see Drumsheugh's amazing gift,
-but chiefly to hear Marjorie on his unparalleled kindness and its
-unparalleled splendour. She had felt it over inch by inch, and knew the
-pattern to a turn, but she was chiefly concerned that her visitors should
-observe and rightly appreciate the brass knobs at the four corners.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Drumsheugh micht have got an ordinary bed for half the money, but
-naething wud sateesfy him but brass knobs. Ye may say that I canna see
-them, but I can feel them, and I ken that they're there, and the
-neighbours see them, and to think o't that I'm lying here like a queen on
-a spring bed with four brass knobs. And me that has no claim on Drumsheugh
-or ony other body, juist crowned wi' loving kindness. I'll need to ask
-grace to be kept humble.”
- </p>
-<p>
-According to Marjorie indeed her whole life had been arranged on the
-principle of Drumsheugh's giving: instead of iron she had received brass,
-yea, much fine gold, and all things had worked together for her good. When
-her minister Carmichael forgot himself one day and pitied her for her
-afflictions she was amazed, and had to remind herself that he had only
-come to the Glen. For was it not her helplessness that had won her so much
-love, so that from high Glen Urtarch down to the borders of Kilbogie every
-man, woman and child was her friend, dropping in to see her, bringing her
-all the news, and making her so many little presents that she was “fair
-ashamed”? And she reminded John Carmichael that if she, Marjorie, had been
-an able-bodied woman, he would not have paid her so many visits, nor told
-her so many “bonny stories.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Mr. Carmichael, I'll have much to answer for, for I've been greatly
-blessed. I judge masel' the maist priveeleged woman in Drumtochty.” And
-then Carmichael, who had his own troubles and discontentments, used to go
-away a wiser and a better man.
-</p>
-<p>
-Marjorie saw the hand of an all,-wise and all-loving Providence in the
-arrangements of her home. For one thing it faced south, and she got the
-warmth and the shining of the sun through her little window, and there was
-an advantage in the door opening straight from the garden into the room,
-for the scent of the flowers came in to her bed, and she knew when the
-wallflowers had begun to bloom and when the first rosebud above the
-doorway had opened. She would have liked very well to have gone to the
-Kirk with a goodly company, but lying alone on her bed through the hours
-of service she had time for prayer, and I have heard her declare that the
-time was too short for her petitions. “For, ye see, I have sae mony
-friends to remember, and my plan is to begin at the top of the Glen and
-tak' them family by family till I come to the end of the parish. And wud
-ye believe it, I judge that it takes me four complete days to bring a' the
-fowk I love before the Throne of Grace.”
- </p>
-<p>
-As for her darkness of earthly sight, this, she insisted, was the chief
-good which God had bestowed upon her, and she made out her case with the
-ingenuity of a faithful and contented heart.
-</p>
-<p>
-“If I dinna see”—and she spoke as if this was a matter of doubt and
-she were making a concession for argument's sake—“there's naebody in
-the Glen can hear like me. There's no a footstep of a Drum-tochty man
-comes to the door but I ken his name, and there's no a voice oot on the
-road that I canna tell. The birds sing sweeter to me than to onybody else,
-and I can hear them cheeping to one another in the bushes before they go
-to sleep. And the flowers smell sweeter to me—the roses and the
-carnations and the bonny moss rose—and I judge that the oatcake and
-milk taste the richer because I dinna see them. Na, na, ye're no to think
-that I've been ill treated by my God, for if He didna give me ae thing, He
-gave me mony things instead.
-</p>
-<p>
-“And mind ye, it's no as if I'd seen once and lost my sight; that micht
-ha' been a trial, and my faith micht have failed. I've lost naething; my
-life has been all getting.”
- </p>
-<p>
-And she said confidentially one day to her elder, Donald Menzies—
-</p>
-<p>
-“There's a mercy waitin' for me that'll crown a' His goodness, and I'm
-feared when I think o't, for I'm no worthy.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“What iss that that you will be meaning, Marjorie,” said the elder.
-</p>
-<p>
-“He has covered my face with His hand as a father plays with his bairn,
-but some day sune He will lift His hand, and the first thing that Marjorie
-sees in a' her life will be His ain face.”
- </p>
-<p>
-And Donald Menzies declared to Bumbrae on the way home that he would
-gladly go blind all the days of his life if he were as sure of that sight
-when the day broke and the shadows fled away.
-</p>
-<div style="height: 6em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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diff --git a/old/43727-h.zip b/old/43727-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index c2c9d73..0000000 --- a/old/43727-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/43727-h/43727-h.htm b/old/43727-h/43727-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index edd7c72..0000000 --- a/old/43727-h/43727-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5875 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!DOCTYPE html -PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" -"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> -<head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> -<title> -His Majesty Baby and Some Common People, by Ian Maclaren -</title> -<style type="text/css"> - <!-- - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 100%; font-style:normal; - margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; - text-align: right;} - .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} - span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - --> -</style> -</head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -Project Gutenberg's His Majesty Baby and Some Common People, by Ian MacLaren - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: His Majesty Baby and Some Common People - -Author: Ian MacLaren - -Release Date: September 15, 2013 [EBook #43727] -Last Updated: March 1, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIS MAJESTY BABY *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - -</pre> - -<div style="height: 8em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h1> -HIS MAJESTY BABY <br /><br /> AND SOME COMMON PEOPLE -</h1> -<p> -<br /> -</p> -<h2> -By Ian MacLaren -</h2> -<p> -<br /> -</p> -<h3> -1902 -</h3> -<p> -<br /> <br /> -</p> -<h4> -To Andrew Carnegie, <br /> <br /> The Munificent Benefactor Of <br /> Scots -Students -</h4> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<p> -<b>CONTENTS</b> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I.—HIS MAJESTY BABY </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II.—NEWS OF A FAMOUS VICTORY </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III.—A MODEST SCHOLAR </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV.—MY FRIEND THE TRAMP </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0005"> V.—OUR BOY </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0006"> VI.—A RESIDUARY </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VII.—A RACONTEUR </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VIII.—WITH UNLEAVENED BREAD </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0009"> IX.—OUR FOREIGN MANNERS </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0010"> X.—NILE VIEWS </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0011"> XI.—THE RESTLESS AMERICAN </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XII.—A SCOT INDEED </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XIII.—HIS CROWNING DAY </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIV.—“DINNA FORGET SPURGEON” </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XV.—THEIR FULL RIGHTS </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XVI.—AN EXPERT IN HERESY </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVII.—THE SCOT AT AN ARGUMENT </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVIII.—UPON THE LECTURE PLATFORM </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XIX.—FOR THE SAKE OF A HORSE </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XX.—NO RELEVANT OBJECTION </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XXI.—WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XXII.—THE VISION OF THE SOUL </a> -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -I.—HIS MAJESTY BABY -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">U</span>NTIL the a'bus stopped and the old gentleman entered, we had been a -contented and genial company, travelling from a suburb into the city in -high, good fellowship, and our absolute monarch was Baby. His mother was -evidently the wife of a well-doing artisan, a wise-looking, capable, -bonnie young woman; and Baby was not a marvel of attire, nor could he be -called beautiful. He was dressed after a careful, tidy, comfortable -fashion, and he was a clear-skinned, healthy child; that is all you would -have noticed had you met the two on the street. In a'bus where there is -nothing to do for forty minutes except stare into one another's faces, a -baby has the great chance of his life, and this baby was made to seize it. -He was not hungry, and there were no pins about his clothes, and nobody -had made him afraid, and he was by nature a human soul. So he took us in -hand one by one, till he had reduced us all to a state of delighted -subjection, to the pretended scandal and secret pride of his mother. His -first conquest was easy, and might have been discounted, for against such -an onset there was no power of resistance in the elderly woman opposite—one -of the lower middles, fearfully stout, and of course a grandmother. He -simply looked at her—if he smiled, that was thrown in—for, -without her knowledge, her arms had begun to shape for his reception—so -often had children lain on that ample resting-place. “Bless 'is little -'eart; it do me good to see him.” No one cared to criticize the words, and -we remarked to ourselves how the expression changes the countenance. Not -heavy and red, far less dull, the proper adjective for the face is -motherly. The next passenger, just above Grannie, is a lady, young and -pretty, and a mother? Of course; did you not see her look Baby over, as an -expert at her sharpest, before she grows old and is too easily satisfied? -Will she approve, or is there something wrong which male persons and -grandmothers cannot detect? The mother is conscious of inspection, and -adjusts a ribbon His Majesty had tossed aside—one of his few -decorations which he wore on parade for the good of the public and his own -glory—and then she meekly awaited approval. For a moment we were -anxious, but that was our foolishness, for in half a minute the lady's -face relaxed, and she passed Baby. She leant forward and asked questions, -and we overheard scraps of technical detail: “My first... fourteen -months... six teeth... always well.” Baby was bored, and apologised to -the'bus. “Mothers, you know—this is the way they go on; but what a -lot they do for us! so we must be patient.” Although rank outsiders—excluded -from the rites of the nursery—yet we made no complaint, but were -rather pleased at this conference. One was a lady, the other a working -woman; they had not met before, they were not likely to meet again, but -they had forgotten strangeness and differences in the common bond of -motherhood. Opposite me a priest was sitting and saying his office, but at -this point his eye fell on the mothers, and I thought his lips shaped the -words “Sancta Maria” before he went on with the appointed portion, but -that may have been my fancy. The'bus will soon be dropping into poetry. -Let us be serious and stare before us, as becometh well-bred English -people. -</p> -<p> -Baby has wearied of inaction, and has begun another campaign, and my heart -sinks, for this time he courts defeat; On the other side of Grannie and -within Baby's sphere of influence was a man about whose profession there -could be little doubt, even if he had not a bag on his knee and were not -reading from a parchment document. After a long and serious consideration -of the lawyer's clear-cut, clean-shaven, bloodless face, Baby leant -forward and tapped gently on the deed, and then, when the keen face looked -up in quick inquiry, Baby replied with a smile of roguish intelligence, as -if to say, “Full of big words as long as myself, but quite useless; it -could all have been said in a sentence, as you and I know quite well; by -the way, that parchment would make an excellent drum; do you mind me? A -tune has just come into my head.” - </p> -<p> -The lawyer, of course, drew away the deed, and frowned at the insolence of -the thing? No, he did not—there is a soul in lawyers, if you know -how to find it. He smiled. Well, it was not a first-rate smile, but I -swear that it was genuine, and the next time he did it better, and -afterwards it spread all over his face and lighted up his eyes. He had -never been exposed in such a genial, irresistible way before, and so he -held the drum, and Baby played a variation on “Rule Britannia” with much -spirit, while grannie appealed for applause. -</p> -<p> -“If 'e don't play as well as the band in 'yde Park of a Sunday.” - </p> -<p> -After a well deserved rest of forty seconds, during which we wagged our -heads in wonder, Baby turned his attention to his right-hand neighbour, -and for the balance of the minute examined her with compassion. An old -maid without question, with her disposition written on the thin, tightly -drawn lips, and the hard, grey eyes. None of us would care to trifle -with... Will he dare?... if he has not! That was his chief stroke of -genius, and it deserved success—when, with an expression of -unaffected pity, he put out his soft, dimpled hand and gently stroked her -cheek. “Poor thing, all alone, 'lone, 'lone,” he cooed in her ear, as if to -say with liquid baby speech, “I'm so solly, solly, solly, so velly, velly, -velly solly.” Did I say that her eyes were tender and true enough to win a -man's heart and keep it, and that her lips spoke of patience and -gentleness? If I did not, I repair my neglect. She must have been a -beautiful woman in her youth—no, no, to-day, just when she inclines -her head ever so slightly, and Baby strokes her cheek again, and cooes, -“Pretty, pretty, pretty, and so velly, velly, velly good.” Was not that a -lovely flush on her cheek?—oh, the fool of a man who might have had -that love. She opens a neat little bag, and as this was an imperial -incident we watched without shame. Quite so; she is to be away all day, -and has got a frugal luncheon, and—it's all she can do in return. -Perhaps he cannot eat it. I don't know, nor does she; that's the pity of -it, poor soul, baby-ways are a mystery to her; but would he refuse that -biscuit? Not he; he makes an immense to do over it, and shows it to his -mother and all his loyal subjects; and he was ready to be kissed, but she -did not like to kiss him. Peace be with thy shy, modest soul, the -Christ-child come into thine heart! -</p> -<p> -Two passengers on Baby's left had endured these escapades with patient and -suffering dignity. When a boy is profoundly conscious that he is—well, -a man—and yet a blind and unfeeling world conspires to treat him as—well, -a child—he must protect himself and assert his position. Which he -does, to the delight of everybody with any sense of humour, by refusing -indignantly to be kissed by his mother—or at least sisters—in -public, by severely checking any natural tendency to enthusiasm about -anything except sport, by allowing it to be understood that he has -exhausted the last remaining pleasure and is fairly burnt out. Dear boy, -and all the time ready to run a mile to see a cavalry regiment drill, and -tormented by a secret hankering after the Zoological Gardens. These two -had been nice little chaps two years ago, and would be manly fellows two -years hence. Meanwhile they were provoking, and required chastisement or -regeneration. Baby was to them a “kid,” to be treated with contempt, and -when in a paroxysm of delight over the folly of a law paper he had tilted -one of the young men's hats, that blase ancient replaced it in position -with a bored and weary air. How Baby had taken in the situation I cannot -guess, but he had his mind on the lads, and suddenly, while they were -sustaining an elaborate unconcern, he flung himself back and crowed—yes, -joyfully crowed—with rosy, jocund countenance in the whites of the -eyes of the two solemnities. One raised his eyebrows, and the other looked -at the roof in despair; but I had hopes, and who could resist this -bubbling, chortling mirth? Next minute one chuckles joyfully, and the -other tickles Baby just at the right spot below the chin—has a baby -at home after all, and loves it—declaring aloud that he is “a jolly -little beggar.” Those boys are all right; there is a sound heart below the -little affectations, and they are going to be men. -</p> -<p> -This outburst of His Majesty cheered us all mightily, and a young woman at -the top of the'bus catching his eye, waved her hand to him, with a happy -smile. Brown glove, size six and a quarter, perhaps six, much worn, and -jacket also not of yesterday; but everything is well made, and in perfect -taste. Milk-white teeth, hazel eyes. Grecian nose, what a winsome girl!—and -let me see, she takes off a glove—yes, is wearing an engagement -ring: a lucky fellow, for she must be good with those eyes and that merry -smile. Daughter of a doctor or clergyman who died before he could provide -for his family; a teacher, one guesses, and to-day off duty, going to meet -her fiancé in the city; and then the three—her mother, that dear -woman with hair turning grey—will go upon the river, and come home -in the sweet summer evening, full of content. As soon as he gets a rise in -the office they will marry, and she will also have her gift, as every -woman should. But where am I now?—let that Baby bear the blame. -</p> -<p> -We had one vacant place, and that was how the old gentleman intruded on -our peace; but let me make every excuse for him. It is aggravating to -stand on the edge of the pavement and wave your umbrella ostentatiously to -a'bus which passes you and draws up fifteen yards ahead, to make your -dangerous way along a slippery street with hansoms bent upon your life, to -be ordered to “hurry up,” by an impatient conductor and ignominiously -hauled on to a moving 'bus. For an elderly man of military appearance and -short temper it was not soothing, and he might have been excused a word or -two, but he distinctly exceeded. -</p> -<p> -He insisted in language of great directness and simplicity that the -conductor had seen him all the time; that if he didn't he ought to have -been looking; that he—the Colonel—was not a fox-terrier to run -after a'bus in the mud; that the conductor was an impertinent scoundrel, -and that he would have him dismissed, with other things and words unworthy -even of a retired Anglo-Indian. The sympathy of the'bus did not go out to -him, and when he forced himself in between the lawyer and Grannie, and, -leaning forward with his hands on his cane, glared at us impartially, -relations were strained. A cut on his left cheek and a bristly white -moustache, half hiding, half concealing a cruel mouth, did not commend the -new passenger to a peaceable company. Baby regarded the old man with sad -attention, pained at his unlicensed talk, but full of charity, and at last -he indicates that his fancy is to examine the silver head of the Colonel's -cane. The Colonel, after two moments' hesitation, removes his hands and -gives full liberty. On second thoughts, he must have got that cut in some -stiff fight; wonder whether he is a V.G. Baby moves the cane back and -forwards to a march of his own devising—the Colonel actively -assisting. Now that I see it in a proper light, his moustache is soft and -sets off the face excellently. Had it not been the cut puckering the -corner of the upper lip, that would have been a very sweet mouth for a -man, or even for a woman. Baby is not lifted above all human weaknesses—preserve -us from perfect people—and he indicates a desire to taste as well as -handle the silver head. The Colonel is quite agreeable—the most -good-natured man you could meet in a day's journey. But Baby's guardian -objects, and history warns us of the dangers which beset a collision -between an absolute monarch and his faithful Commons. We were all -concerned, but the crisis is safe in the Colonel's hands. He thrusts his -hand within the tightly-buttoned frock-coat and produces a gold -hunting-watch—crested, did you notice, and... yes, just what every -father has done for his baby since watches were invented—before that -a fist served the purpose—he blew, the lid flew open. Baby blew, and -the lid flew open faster and farther. Grannie would like to know whether -any baby could have done the trick better, but there was no use asking us. -“Reminds me of my boy at that age... Bailed on frontier last year.” Is -much ashamed of this confidence, and we all look unconscious. What a fine, -simple old fellow he is! -</p> -<p> -“Saved up, has he”—the Colonel is speaking to the mother—“to -give Baby and you a week at Ramsgate?... he's the right sort, your -husband... it's for Baby, not for you, to get him some fol-de-rol, you -know... he's done a lot of good to a crusty old chap.”... The conductor -has taken in the scene with huge delight, and closes it just at the right -point. “Your club, General; just wait till the'bus stops.... Can ye get -near the kerb, Bill? Now, that's right, take care, sir, plenty of time... -Oh, that was nothing, might'ave seen you sooner... thank ye, I do smoke at -a time... Mornin', General; all right, Bill.” The Colonel was standing on -the broad top step of the “Veteran's” smiling and waving his hand; the'bus -waved back, and the conductor touched his cap. “A gentleman every inch; -cads ain't mide that wy,” and Baby danced for sheer Christian joy, since -there is no victory like Love. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -II.—NEWS OF A FAMOUS VICTORY -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>E had been talking that morning at the Office of the siege of Ladysmith, -for six relatives of the family were at the front, three with Sir George -White in the besieged place, and three with Sir Redvers Buller, fighting -for their deliverance. Word had come to the house the night before that -Ladysmith might be relieved any hour, and every one knew that unless help -came speedily, the garrison would have to surrender. Duty took me to -Cambridge that day, and I had gone upstairs to get ready, and coming down -again I heard a shout in the hall as if something had happened, but it did -not occur to me what it was. My hostess was speaking excitedly somewhere, -and I could not catch what she was saying. Servants had rushed out from -bedrooms and other places, and were standing on the breakfast-table in a -house near the War landings. As I reached the hall the butler, a most -stately personage, broke forth from his quarters and rushed past me -carrying his coat on his arm, and then in his shirt sleeves, having -forgotten to put on his coat, and without a hat—he will likely deny -this, but he was a spectacle for gods and men—he ran, yes, he who -was intended by nature to be an archbishop, ran across the square. Then I -understood, and turned to a footman, who looked as if he would like to -follow the butler. -</p> -<p> -“Ladysmith,” was all I said. -</p> -<p> -“Yes,” he cried; “word come, War Office, sent here, butler gone, make -sure”; then he went out to the doorstep to catch the first sight of the -returning butler. Meanwhile my hostess had come down to the hall, and -there had gathered the household of all kinds and degrees—my host -and the other guests had gone out—housemaids, ladies' maids, -kitchen-maids, footmen, her majesty the cook, and every other person -beneath the roof, high and low, and we were all trembling lest there had -been some mistake in the message, and the news was not true. The butler -came across St. James's Square, and when he saw us standing—forgetting -himself again, but now he had his coat on—he waved triumphantly, and -then we knew that Ladysmith was saved. We gave some sort of cheer and -shook hands indiscriminately, each one with his neighbour, and with two or -three neighbours, and talked together, mingling names of Generals and -relatives, and places, and battles, while the butler, who had arrived and -regained his breath, but not yet his unapproachable dignity, assured us -that the siege was lifted, and that White, and what remained of his -gallant men, were unconquered. -</p> -<p> -It was time for me to start, and I told the hansom man to drive round by -the War Office, that I might see this great thing. When we got down the -Press were just leaving with the intelligence, and the first of the public -were reading the news. Each man took the news in his own fashion, one -laughing and slapping his legs, another crying and speaking to himself, a -third rushing out to cheer, and I, why I, being an unemotional Scot, -remembered that if I fooled away any more time, reading news of victories, -I might lose my train, so I rushed back to the hansom. -</p> -<p> -“Is't all correct?” the driver leant down from his perch, determined not -to let himself go till he was perfectly certain that, not only the -straight tip had been given, but that at last the event had come off. -</p> -<p> -“All right,” I said; “Buller's army have driven back the Boers, and the -advance guard has entered Ladysmith.” - </p> -<p> -Whereupon he whipped off his hat, and standing up in his place, a stout, -red-faced Englishman in sporting dress, he gave a cheer all on his own -account, and then when I got in he opened the trap and shouted down, “Old -Buller's done it; he had a bloomin' tough job, but he's a game sportsman, -and I said he'd do it. And old Buller's done it.” Again he celebrated the -event with a cheer, and we started for Charing Cross. -</p> -<p> -Something occurred to me, and I pushed the trap open. “Look here,” I said, -“the people near the War Office have heard the news, but after we pass -Piccadilly Circus you'll be the first man to tell that the siege is -raised.” - </p> -<p> -“Right, sir, I'm on the job. Old Buller's done it.” By the time we reached -Bloomsbury he had the whole country to himself, and he did his duty -manfully. As we crossed a thoroughfare, he would shout to the'bus drivers -on either side, “Ladysmith relieved; just come from the War Office. Old -Buller's done it.” Then in an instant, before we plunged into the opposite -street, one could see the tidings run both ways, from 'bus to 'bus, from -cab to cab, and the hats waving in the air, and hear, “Ladysmith and -Buller.” Bloomsbury is a fearfully decorous and immovable district, -inhabited by professors and British Museum students, and solid merchants, -and professional men, but my driver for once stirred up Bloomsbury. A -householder would be standing on his doorstep in tall hat and frock coat, -well brushed, and with a daintily folded umbrella under his left arm, -fastening the left button of the second glove, and looking out upon the -world from the serene superiority of a single eyeglass. Then he would -catch sight of us, and the sound of something my driver was flinging to -the men on a furniture van. -</p> -<p> -“What's that?” he would cry in a sharp, excited, insistent voice; -“anything about Ladysmith?” - </p> -<p> -“Relieved,” from the hansom top. “War Office news. Old Buller's done it.” - </p> -<p> -Down fell the umbrella on the step, and down came the eyeglass from the -eye, and with an answering cheer the unstarched, enthusiastic, triumphant, -transformed householder bolted into his home to make it known from attic -to kitchen that White and his men had not fought in vain. -</p> -<p> -Round the dustbin at the corner of a street half a dozen street boys were -gathered, and the driver in his glory passed a word to them also. They did -not know where they would get their dinner, and they had not had much -breakfast, their whole stock of clothes would not have been worth 1s. 9d., -and not one of them had a cap, but they also were a bit of England, and -this victory was theirs, and the last I saw of them they were standing -each one upon his head and waving joyfully with his feet. -</p> -<p> -“See, sir, how the kids took it,” for my driver was getting more -magnificent every minute; “said all along old Buller would do it.” - </p> -<p> -Coming down Euston Road was one blaze of glory, and when we swept into -King's Cross Station at the gallop, and my driver saw the crowd of waiting -porters and other hangers-on, an audience as yet unspoiled and waiting, -ready for such news, it was, I take it, the greatest moment in his life. -He pulled up the horse on his haunches, and again stood up on his high -place. -</p> -<p> -“Straight from the War Office, as hard as we could drive; it's all right -at Ladysmith—the siege is lifted, and old Buller's done it”; and -then, to crown the occasion, “Three cheers for General Buller.” - </p> -<p> -He led from the top, and they joined from below, and so great was the -excitement that when I offered the usual tip to the porter to carry my -things to the carriage, he flatly refused to take it. -</p> -<p> -“Hexcuse me, sir, not to-day; I ain't that sort. You brought the news of -Ladysmith.” Which indeed was all my share of the glory of the passage: the -rest belonged to my driver, who was indeed a Mercury fit for the work of -the gods. -</p> -<p> -Just as the train was starting a man arrived with a pile of newspapers to -sell them on the downward journey, for the special editions with the -relief of Ladysmith had been got out with vast celerity. It was a pretty -sight when the train stopped at some country station to see the man jump -out and hear him shout the news, while the people, a moment ago stolid and -indifferent, crowded round him to buy the paper. And then the train went -on its way, followed by a cheer, because Ladysmith was safe. At one -station two respectable country women got into the compartment where I had -been alone, and they had been so eager, as their kind is, to secure their -places, that they had not caught the news before the train left the -station. By-and-by they began talking together, and it appeared that the -elderly woman had a son at the front, a reservist in an infantry regiment -with General Buller, while the other was the wife of a reservist who was -with the cavalry under General French. It was hard lines, one could not -but feel, for those women to have a son and a husband taken away from -their homes and peaceful employment, and sent out to hardship and danger. -And it would not have been wonderful if they had complained of their lot. -But no, my heart swelled with pride as in a corner of the carriage, and -behind my newspaper, I heard the mother and the wife exchanging news from -the seat of campaign, and talking cheerily of critical affairs. Till at -last, and quite suddenly, trouble arose, and there might have been a hot -quarrel in that compartment. -</p> -<p> -“My man's all right,” said the wife; “he's with French, you know, and -French looks after his men, 'e does. Jim says as 'ow 'is General won't let -'is men into any traps.” - </p> -<p> -“Who are ye getting hat may I ask?” said the elderly lady, flushing purple -with indignation—“talking about traps. If it's General Buller ye're -meanin', hexcuse me telling you, 'e don't get 'is men into traps. My boy -says that he 'ad the hardest job of them hall, 'ad General Buller, and -George, 'e writes and says to me in 'is last letter, 'you just wait and -see if General Buller don't do it'—them's 'is very words, 'you just -wait and see if General Buller don't do it.'” - </p> -<p> -The younger woman explained she had been making no reflections on General -Buller, but only had been telling how proud her husband was of his -Commander, but nothing would appease the old lady. -</p> -<p> -“I know nothing about French, and I say nothing against French, but I wish -you to understand that Buller is a good old sort, and, as sure as you're -sitting there in this carriage, 'e'll do the job.” - </p> -<p> -Then I laid down my newspaper, and addressed the reservist's mother. -</p> -<p> -“Madam,” I said, “your son was right, and Buller is a good old sort; he's -done the job, and Ladysmith is safe.” - </p> -<p> -We all shook hands, two women wept, but not for sorrow, and a man looked -out of the window, intent upon the scenery. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -III.—A MODEST SCHOLAR -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>EING a household of moderate attainments, and not being at all superior -people, we were gravely concerned on learning that it was our duty to -entertain the distinguished scholar, for our pride was chastened by -anxiety and we had once received moderators. His name was carried far and -wide on the wings of fame, and even learned people referred to him with a -reverence in the tone, because it was supposed there was almost nothing -within the range of languages and philosophy and theology which he did not -know, and that if there happened to be any obscure department he had not -yet overtaken, he would likely be on the way to its conquest. We -speculated what like he would be—having only heard rumours—and -whether he would be strangely clothed, we discussed what kind of company -we could gather to meet such a man, and whether we ought, that is the two -trembling heads of the household, to read up some subject beforehand that -we might be able at least to know where he was if we could not follow him. -And we were haunted with the remembrance of a literary woman who once -condescended to live with us for two days, and whose conversation was so -exhausting that we took it in turns like the watch on board ship, one -standing on the bridge with the spin-drift of quotations flying over his -head, and the other snatching a few minutes' sleep to strengthen her for -the storm. That overwhelming lady was only the oracle of a circle after -all, but our coming visitor was known to the ends of the earth. -</p> -<p> -It was my place to receive him at the station, and pacing up and down the -platform, I turned over in my mind appropriate subjects for conversation -in the cab, and determined to lure the great man into a discussion of the -work of an eminent Oxford philosopher which had just been published, and -which I knew something about. I had just arranged a question which I -intended to submit for his consideration, when the express came in, and I -hastened down the first-class carriages to identify the great man. High -and mighty people, clothed in purple and fine linen, or what corresponds -to such garments in our country, were descending in troops with servants -and porters waiting upon them, but there was no person that suggested a -scholar. Had he, in the multitude of his thoughts, forgotten his -engagement altogether, or had he left the train at some stopping-place and -allowed it to go without him—anything is possible with such a -learned man. -</p> -<p> -Then I saw a tall and venerable figure descend from a third-class -compartment and a whole company of genuine “third classers” handing out -his luggage while he took the most affectionate farewell of them. A -working man got out to deposit the scholar's Gladstone bag upon the -platform while his wife passed out his umbrella, and another working man -handled delicately a parcel of books. The scholar shook hands with every -one of his fellow-passengers including children, and then I presented -myself, and looked him in the face. He was rather over six feet in height, -and erect as a sapling, dressed in old-fashioned and well brushed black -clothes, and his face placed me immediately at ease, for though it was -massive and grave, with deep lines and crowned with thick white hair, his -eyes were so friendly and sincere, had such an expression of modesty and -affection, that even then, and on the first experience, I forgot the gulf -between us. Next instant, and almost before I had mentioned my name he -seized me by the hand, and thanked me for my coming. -</p> -<p> -“This, my good sir,” he said with his old-fashioned courtesy, “is a -kindness which I never for an instant anticipated, and when I remember -your many important engagements (important!) and the sacrifice which this -gracious act (gracious!) must have entailed upon you, I feel this to be an -honour, sir, for which you will accept this expression of gratitude.” It -seemed as if there must have been something wrong in our imagination of a -great man's manner, and when he insisted, beyond my preventing, in -carrying his bag himself, and would only allow me with many remonstrances -to relieve him of the books; when I had difficulty in persuading him to -enter a cab because he was anxious to walk to our house, our fancy -portrait had almost disappeared. Before leaving the platform he had -interviewed the guard and thanked him by both word and deed for certain -“gracious and mindful attentions in the course of the journey.” - </p> -<p> -My wife acknowledged that she had been waiting to give the great man -afternoon tea in fear and trembling, but there was something about him so -winsome that she did not need even to study my face, but felt at once that -however trying writing-women and dilletante critics might be, one could be -at home with a chief scholar. When I described the guests who were coming—to -meet him at dinner—such eminent persons as I could gather—he -was overcome by the trouble we had taken, but also alarmed lest he should -be hardly fit for their company, being, as he explained himself, a man -much restricted in knowledge through the just burden of professional -studies. And before he went to his room to dress he had struck up an -acquaintance with the youngest member of the family, who seemed to have -forgotten that our guest was a very great man, and had visited a family of -Japanese mice with evident satisfaction. During dinner he was so conscious -of his poverty of attainment in the presence of so many distinguished -people that he would say very little, but listened greedily to everything -that fell from the lips of a young Oxford man who had taken a fair degree -and was omniscient. After dinner we wiled him into a field where very few -men have gone, and where he was supposed to know everything that could be -known, and then being once started he spoke for forty minutes to our huge -delight with such fulness and accuracy of knowledge, with such lucidity -and purity of speech—allowing for the old-fashioned style—that -even the Oxford man was silent and admired. -</p> -<p> -Once and again he stopped to qualify his statement of some other scholar's -position lest he should have done him injustice, and in the end he became -suddenly conscious of the time he had spoken and implored every one's -pardon, seeing, as he explained “that the gentlemen present will likely -have far more intimate knowledge of this subject than I can ever hope to -attain.” He then asked whether any person present had ever seen a family -of Japanese mice, and especially whether they had ever seen them waltzing, -or as he described it “performing their circular motions of the most -graceful and intricate nature, with almost incredible continuance.” And -when no one had, he insisted on the company going to visit the menagerie, -which was conduct not unbecoming a gentleman, but very unbecoming a -scholar. -</p> -<p> -Next morning, as he was a clergyman, I asked him to take family worship, -and in the course of the prayer he made most tender supplication for the -sick relative of “one who serves in this household,” and we learned that -he had been conversing with the housemaid who attended to his room, having -traced some expression of sorrow on her face, and found out that her -mother was ill; while we, the heads of the household, had known nothing -about the matter, and while we imagined that a scholar would be only -distantly aware that a housemaid had a mother. It was plainer than ever -that we knew nothing whatever about great scholars. The public function -for which he came was an overwhelming success, and after the lapse of now -many years people still remember that man of amazing erudition and -grandeur of speech. But we, being simple people, and especially a certain -lad, who is rapidly coming now to manhood, remember with keen delight how -this absurd scholar had hardly finished afternoon tea before he demanded -to see the mice, who were good enough to turn out of their nest, a mother -and four children, and having rotated, the mother by herself, and the -children by themselves, and each one having rotated by itself, all whirled -round together in one delirium of delight, partly the delight of the mice -and partly of the scholar. -</p> -<p> -Having moved us all to the tears of the heart by his prayer next morning, -for it was as the supplication of a little child, so simple, so confiding, -so reverent and affectionate, he bade the whole household farewell, from -the oldest to the youngest with a suitable word for each, and he shook -hands with the servants, making special inquiry for the housemaid's -mother, and—there is no use concealing a scholar's disgrace any more -than another man's—he made his last call upon the Japanese mice, and -departed bowing at the door, and bowing at the gate of the garden, and -bowing before he entered the cab, and bowing his last farewell from the -window, while he loaded us all with expressions of gratitude for our -“gracious and unbounded hospitality, which had refreshed him alike both in -body and mind.” And he declared that he would have both that hospitality -and ourselves in “continual remembrance.” - </p> -<p> -Before we retired to rest I had approached the question of his expenses, -although I had an instinct that our scholar would be difficult to handle, -and he had waived the whole matter as unworthy of attention. On the way to -the station I insisted upon a settlement with the result that he refused -to charge any fee, being thankful if his “remarks,” for he refused to give -them the name of lecture, had been of any use for the furtherance of -knowledge, and as regards expenses they were limited to a third-class -return fare. He also explained that there were no other charges, as he -travelled in cars and not in cabs, and any gifts he bestowed (by which I -understood the most generous tips to every human being that served him in -any fashion) were simply a private pleasure of his own. When I established -him in the corner seat of a third-class compartment, with his humble -luggage above his head, and an Arabic book in his hand, and some slight -luncheon for the way in his pocket, he declared that he was going to -travel as a prince. Before the train left an old lady opposite him in the -carriage—I should say a tradesman's widow—was already -explaining the reason of her journey, and he was listening with benignant -interest. Three days later he returned the fee which was sent him, having -deducted the third-class return fare, thanking us for our undeserved -generosity, but explaining that he would count it a shame to grow rich -through his services to knowledge. Some years afterwards I saw him in the -distance, at a great public meeting, and when he mounted the platform the -huge audience burst into prolonged applause, and were all the more -delighted when he, who never had the remotest idea that people were -honouring him, looked round, and discovering a pompous nonentity who -followed him, clapped enthusiastically. And the only other time and the -last that I saw him was on the street of a famous city, when he caught -sight of a country woman dazed amid the people and the traffic, and afraid -to cross to the other side. Whereupon our scholar gave the old woman his -arm and led her carefully over, then he bowed to her, and shook hands with -her, and I watched his tall form and white hair till he was lost in the -distance. I never saw him again, for shortly after he had also passed over -to the other side. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -IV.—MY FRIEND THE TRAMP -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>NE of the memorable and pitiable sights of the West, as the traveller -journeys across the prairies, is the little group of Indians hanging round -the lonely railway station. They are not dangerous now, nor are they -dignified; they are harmless, poor, abject, shiftless, ready to beg or -ready to steal, or to do anything else except work, and the one possession -of the past which they still retain is the inventive and instinctive -cunning of the savage, who can read the faintest sign like a written -language, and knows the surest way of capturing his prey. One never -forgets the squalid figure with some remains of former grandeur in his -dress, and the gulf between us and this being of another race, unchanged -amid the modern civilization. And then one comes home and suddenly -recognizes our savages at our own doors. -</p> -<p> -Our savage tramps along our country roads, and loafs along our busy -streets, he stops us with his whine when no policeman is near, and -presents himself upon our doorstep, and when he is a master of his -business he will make his way into our house. He has his own dress, -combining many styles and various periods, though reduced to a harmony by -his vagabond personality. He has his own language, which is unintelligible -to strangers, and a complete system of communication by pictures. He -marries and lives and dies outside civilization, sharing neither our -habits nor our ideas, nor our labours, nor our religion, and the one -infallible and universal badge of his tribe is that our savage will not -work. He will hunger and thirst, he will sweat and suffer, he will go -without shelter and without comfort, he will starve and die, but one thing -he will not do, not even to get bread, and that is work; not even for -tobacco, his dearest treasure and kindliest support, will he do fifteen -minutes' honest labour. The first and last article in his creed, for which -he is prepared to be a martyr and which makes him part of a community, is -“I believe in idleness.” He has in him the blood of generations of nomads, -and if taken off the roads, and compelled to earn his living would likely -die. A general law of compulsory industry would bring the race to an end. -</p> -<p> -Besides his idleness he has many faults, for he is a liar to the bone, he -is a drunkard whenever he can get the chance, he steals in small ways when -it is safe, he bullies women if they are alone in a country house, he has -not a speaking acquaintance with soap and water, and if he has any virtue -it is not of a domestic character. He is ungrateful, treacherous, -uncleanly, and vicious, to whom it is really wrong to give food, far more -money, and to whom it is barely safe to give the shelter of an outhouse, -far less one's roof. And yet he is an adroit, shrewd, clever, entertaining -rascal. He carries the geography of counties in his head down to the -minutest details which you can find on no map, knowing every mountain -track, and forgotten footpath, every spring where he can get water, and -the warmest corner in a wood where he can sleep. He has also another map -in his memory of the houses with the people that dwell therein; which he -ought to pass by, which it were a sin to neglect, which are worth trying, -and which have changed hands. And he is ever carrying on his ordnance -survey, and bringing information up to date; and as he and his fellows -make a note of their experiences for those who follow after, it may be -safely said that no one knows better either a country-side or its -inhabitants from his own point of view than our friend the vagrant. -</p> -<p> -Perhaps the struggle for existence has quickened his wits beyond those of -his race, but at any rate our vagabond is not fettered by that solid and -conventional English intellect which persists in doing things as our -fathers used to do them, and will not accommodate itself to changing -conditions. Our vagabond has certain old lines which he has long practised -and which he is always willing to use, in suitable circumstances, such as -the workman out of employment and tramping to another city to get a job -because he has not money enough to pay his railway fare, or a convalescent -just discharged from hospital and making his way home to his wife and -children, or a high-spirited man too proud to beg, and only anxious for a -day's work (in some employment which cannot be found within twenty miles). -And when he plays any of these rôles he is able to assume an air of -interesting weariness as if he could not drag one leg after the other, and -on occasion will cough with such skill as to suggest galloping -consumption. And poor (but proud) he only allows the truth to be dragged -from him after much hesitation. But when those lines fail and new -inventions are needed for new times he rises to the occasion. If there be -a great miner's strike he goes from town to town begging money for his -wife and children at home, and explaining the hardships of a miner's life, -which he has diligently, although superficially, learned; and after a war -he is a reservist who threw up a profitable job at his country's call, and -is now penniless and starving, but still unwaveringly patriotic; and if -there be any interest in the sea through recent storm and shipwrecks, he -also, this man of many trials and many journeys, has been saved with -difficulty from the waves and lost his little all. If he calls upon a -priest, he is careful to call him “Father,” and to pose as a faithful -Catholic; and if he be an Irishman, his brogue then becomes a fortune, but -if he drops in upon a Minister of the Kirk he recalls the good which he -got when sitting in the West Kirk of Paisley; and if he be so fortunate as -to be really Scots in blood, and therefore acquainted with theology, he -will not only deceive that minister, but even the elect themselves, I mean -the Caledonian Society. When the vagabond comes upon a home of simple lay -piety, he allows it to be understood that he has led a life of fearful -wickedness but is now a genuine penitent, asking only for the means of -gaining an honest livelihood. He is fertile in devices and brilliant in -execution, without any prejudices against the past or present, but ever -bringing forth from his treasury of unabashed falsehood and ingenious -impudence things new and old. -</p> -<p> -Our savage has also got, what I believe the Red Indians have not, an -agreeable sense of humour, which no doubt is limited by practical details, -but is in its way very captivating. What a stroke of delightful irony it -was for a pair of our savages to take a long street between them, the man -begging down the right-hand side, and the woman the left, while the man -told a mournful tale of his wife's death, and asked money to get her a -coffin that she might be respectably buried—he being poor (but -proud) and a broken-hearted widower—as well as to clothe their two -mourning little ones in black for the funerals, and for the woman to tell -exactly the same story as she went down the opposite side of the street, -except that it was her husband she was burying, and she poor (but proud) -and a broken-hearted widow. They took no notice of one another across the -street, and none when they completed their work at the further end, but a -few minutes later they were sitting in the same public-house together, -both wonderfully comforted and affording a remarkable illustration of the -dead burying their dead. -</p> -<p> -Our vagabond is a superb actor within his own province, and greatly enjoys -a triumph in any conflict with the enemy. He was one day singing the -“Sweet By-and-By” with such a voice and so much unctuous emotion that I -lost patience, and broke out on him for his laziness and profanity. For a -moment he was almost confounded, and then he assumed an air of meek -martyrdom suggestive of a good man who had been trying to do his little -best for the salvation of his fellow-creatures, and was being persecuted -for righteousness sake. This was for the benefit of a simple-minded old -gentleman who had been greatly shocked at my remarks, and now, as a rebuke -to an ungodly and unsympathetic clergyman and an encouragement to humble -piety, gave the vagabond a shilling. “God bless you,” he said with much -feeling to the philanthropist, and started again the “Sweet By-and-By”! -but before we parted he tipped me a wink over his victory, charged with -inexpressible humour. -</p> -<p> -When one of the savages honoured our humble home by calling one day as an -incapacitated member of the Mercantile Marine and obtained half-a-crown -from my tender-hearted wife, partly through sympathy, but also through -alarm, because the suffering sailor proposed to exhibit the sores upon his -legs, I knew that the tidings would be carried far and wide throughout the -nearest tribe, our local Black-feet as it were, and that we would be much -favoured in days to come. So we were, by other sailors, also with sores, -by persons who had been greatly helped by my preaching in the years of -long ago, by widow women full of sorrow and gin, by countrymen stranded -helpless in a big unsympathetic city, till our house was little better -than a casual ward. Then I took the matter in hand and interviewed the -next caller, who had been long out of employment, but had now obtained a -job and only wanted the means of living till Monday when he would be -independent of everybody. He had spent his last penny the day before on a -piece of bread, and had tasted nothing since. “Not even drink,” I ventured -to inquire, for by this time the air round me was charged with alcohol, -when he replied with severe dignity that he had been a teetotaller since -his boyhood. Then I addressed him briefly but clearly, explaining that the -half-crown had been given by mistake, that we were greatly obliged for the -visit of his friends, that I had enjoyed his own call, but that it would -save a great deal of trouble to both sides if he would only intimate to -his fellow-tribesmen and women when they gathered round the camp fire in -the evening that there was no more spoil to be obtained at our house. He -looked at me, and I looked at him, and a smile came over his face. “I'm -fly,” he said. And then as he went out at the door he turned for a last -shot, “Look here, sir, if you give me a bob, I'll join your church, and be -an elder in a month.” A fellow of infinite jest, and I gave him a -shilling, but without conditions. -</p> -<p> -The humour of our nomad is always practical, and when it masters him it -sweeps all professional hypocrisy before it like a water-flood, and -reveals the real man. Certainly quite unclothed, but also quite unashamed. -He had told his story so artfully, with such care in detail and such -conviction in tone, that I did believe for the moment that he was a poor -Scot trying to get home by sea to Glasgow, together with his wife and four -children, that he had obtained his passage-money from the Caledonian -Society, and that he only needed a little money for food and such like -expenses. This money I gave him somewhat lavishly, and yet not quite -without suspicion, and he left full of gratitude and national enthusiasm. -Three years later a man got entrance to my study on the grounds of -Christianity and nationality, and before he addressed me directly I -thought that I knew his voice. When he explained that he had got his -passage to Glasgow from that noble institution, the Caledonian Society, -but that as he had a wife and four children... I was sure we had met -before, and I offered to do the rest of the story myself, which I did with -such an accurate memory that he listened with keen appreciation like a composer -to the playing of his own piece, and only added when I had finished, “So I -did it here afore. Well, sir, ye may take my word for it, it's the first -mistake I've made in my business.” And he departed with the self-conceit -of the Scots only slightly chastened. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -V.—OUR BOY -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE boy must have had a father, and some day he may be a father himself, -but in the meantime he is absolutely different from anything else on the -face of the earth. He is a race by himself, a special creation that cannot -be traced, for who would venture to liken his ways to the respectability -of his father, or who would ever connect him with the grave and decorous -man which he is to be. By-and-by, say in thirty years, he will preside at -a meeting for the prevention of cruelty to animals, or make enthusiastic -speeches for the conversion of black people, or get in a white heat about -the danger of explosives in the house, or be exceedingly careful about the -rate of driving. Meanwhile he watches two dogs settle their political -differences with keen interest, and would consider it unsportsmanlike to -interfere if they were fairly matched, and the sight of a black man is to -him a subject of unfailing and practical amusement, if he can blow himself -and a brother up with gunpowder, he feels that time has not been lost, and -it is to him a chief delight—although stolen—to travel round -at early morn with the milkman, and being foolishly allowed to drive, to -take every corner on one wheel. He is skilful in arranging a waterfall -which comes into operation by the opening of a door; he keeps a menagerie -of pets, unsightly in appearance, and extremely offensive in smell in his -bedroom. He has an inexhaustible repertory of tricks for any servant with -whom he has quarrelled, and it is his pleasure to come downstairs on the -bannisters, and if any one is looking to make believe that he is going to -fall off and dash himself to destruction three floors below. His father is -aghast at him, and uses the strongest language regarding his escapades; he -wonders how it came to pass that such a boy should turn up in his home, -and considers him what gardeners would call “a sport” or unaccountable -eccentricity in the family. He is sure that he never did such things when -he was a boy, and would be very indignant if you insinuated he had simply -been a prophecy of his son. According to his conversation you would -imagine that his early life had been distinguished by unbroken and -spotless propriety, and his son himself would not believe for a moment -that the pater had ever been guilty of his own exploits. The Boy is -therefore lonely in his home, cut off from the past and the future; he is -apt to be misunderstood and even (in an extreme case) censured, and his -sufferings as a creature of a foreign race with all the powers of -government against him would be intolerable had he not such a joy in -living, and were he not sustained in everything he does by a quite -unaffected sense of innocence, and the proud consciousness of honourable -martyrdom. -</p> -<p> -As wild animals are best studied in their native states, and are much -restricted in the captivity of a cage, so the Boy is not seen at his best -in a middle-class home where he is sadly fettered by vain customs -(although it is wonderful how even there he can realize himself). When you -want to understand what manner of creature he is, you must see him on the -street. And the boy <i>in exedsis</i>, and <i>de profundis</i> too, is a -message-boy. -</p> -<p> -Concluding that his son has had enough of the Board School, and learning -from his master that there was not the remotest chance he would ever reach -a higher standard, his father brings him some morning to a respectable -tradesman, and persuades the unsuspecting man to take him as message-boy. -Nothing could exceed the modesty and demure appearance of the Boy, and the -only fear is that he be too timid and too simple for his duty—that -he may be run over by a cab or bullied upon the streets. Carefully washed -by his mother, and with his hair nicely brushed, in a plain but untorn -suit of clothes, and a cap set decently on his head, he is a beautiful -sight, and he listens to his father's instructions to do what he is told, -and his master's commandment that he is not to meddle with anything in the -shop, in respectful and engaging silence. His father departs with a -warning look, and his master gives him an easy errand, and the Boy goes -out to begin life in a hard, unfriendly world, while one pities his tender -youth. -</p> -<p> -The Boy has started with a considerable capital of knowledge, gathered at -school, and in a few weeks he is free of the streets—a full-grown -citizen in his own kingdom, and, if you please, we will watch him for an -hour. His master has given him some fish, and charged him as he values his -life to deliver them at once at No. 29, Rose Terrace, and the boy departs -with conscientious purpose. Half way to his destination he sees in the far -distance the butcher's boy, who also has been sent in hot haste to some -house where the cook is demanding the raw material for luncheon. They -signal to one another with clear, penetrating, unintelligible cries like -savages across a desert, and the result is that the two messengers -rendezvous at the corner of Rose Terrace. What they talk about no person -can tell, for their speech is their own, but by-and-by under the influence -of, no doubt informing, conversation, they relax from there austere -labours and lay down their baskets. A minute later they are playing -marbles with undivided minds, and might be playing pitch and toss were -they not afraid of a policeman coming round the corner. It is nothing to -them, gay, irresponsible children of nature, that two cooks are making two -kitchens unbearable with their indignation, for the boy has learned to -receive complaints with imperturbable gravity and ingenious falsehood. -Life for him is a succession of pleasures, slightly chastened by work and -foolish impatience. As they play, a dog who has been watching them from -afar with keen interest, and thoroughly understands their ways, creeps -near with cautious cunning, and seizing the chance of a moment when the -butcher's boy has won a “streaky” from the fishmonger, dashes in and -seizes the leg of mutton. If he had been less ambitious and taken a chop, -he would have succeeded, and then the boy would have explained that the -chop had been lost in a street accident in which he was almost killed, but -a leg of mutton is heavy to lift and a boy is only less alert than a dog. -The spoil is barely over the edge of the basket, and the dog has not yet -tasted its sweetness, before the boy gives a yell so shrill and fearsome -that it raises the very hair on the dog's back, and the thief bolts in -terror without his prey. The boy picks up the mutton, dusts it on his -trousers, puts it back in the basket, gives the fishmonger a playful punch -on the side of the head, to which that worthy responds with an attempted -kick, and the two friends depart in opposite directions, whistling, with a -light heart and an undisturbed conscience. -</p> -<p> -If any one imagines that the boy will now hurry with his fish, he does not -understand the nature of the race and its freedom from enslaving rule. A -few yards down Rose Terrace he comes upon the grocer's boy and the two -unearth a chemist's boy, and our boy produces a penny dreadful, much tom -and very fishy, but which contains the picture of a battle swimming in -blood, and the three sit down for its enjoyment. When they have fairly -exhausted their literature the boy receives his fee, as the keeper of a -circulating library, by being allowed to dip his finger carefully wetted -before into a bag of moist sugar, and to keep all that he can take out, -and the grocer's boy is able to close up the bag so skilfully that the -cook will never know that it has been opened. From the chemist he receives -a still more enjoyable because much more perilous reward, for he is -allowed to put his mouth to the spout of a syphon and, if he can endure, -to take what comes—and that is the reason why syphons are never -perfectly full. It occurs to the chemist at this moment that he was told -to lose no time in delivering some medicines, and so he departs -reluctantly; the conference breaks up, and it seems as if nothing remained -for the boy but to deliver the fish. Still you never know what may happen, -and as at that moment he catches sight of a motor-car, it seems a mere -duty to hurry back to the top of the terrace to see whether it will break -down. It does of course, for otherwise one could hardly believe it to be a -motor-car, and the boy under what he would consider a call of providence, -hastens to offer assistance. Other boys arrive from different quarters, -interested, sympathetic, obliging, willing to co-operate with the -irritated motor-man in every possible way. They remain with him -twenty-five minutes till he starts again, and then three of them accompany -him on a back seat, not because they were invited, but because they feel -they are needed. And then the boy goes back to Rose Terrace and delivers -the fish, stating with calm dignity, that he had just been sent from the -shop and had run all the way. -</p> -<p> -Things are said to him at the house by the cook, who is not an absolute -fool, and things may be said to him by his master at the shop, who has -some knowledge of boys, but no injurious reflection of any kind affects -the boy. With a mind at leisure from itself he is able to send his empty -basket spinning along the street after a lady's poodle, and to accompany -this attention with a yell that will keep the pampered pet on the run for -a couple of streets to the fierce indignation of its mistress. And the -chances are that he will foregather with an Italian monkey boy, and -although the one knows no Italian and the other knows no English, they -will have pleasant fellowship together, because both are boys, and in -return for being allowed to have the monkey on his shoulder, and seeing it -run up a waterpipe, he will give the Italian half an apple which comes out -of his pocket with two marbles and a knife attached to it. If he be -overtaken by a drenching shower, he covers his head and shoulders with his -empty basket, sticks his hands in his pockets, and goes on his way singing -in the highest of spirits, but if the day be warm he travels on the steps -of a'bus when the conductor is on the roof, or on a lorry, if the driver -be not surly. If it be winter time, and there be ice on the streets, he -does his best, with the assistance of his friends, to make a slide, and if -the police interfere, with whom he is on terms of honourable warfare, he -contents himself with snowballing some prudish-looking youth, who is out -for a walk with his mother. All the same he is not without his ambitions -in the world, and he carries sacred ideals in the secret of his heart. He -would give all that he possesses,—five lurid and very tattered -books, a penknife with four blades (two broken), nineteen marbles (three -glass), and a pair of white mice—to be the driver of a butcher's -cart. The boy is a savage, and although you may cover him with a thin -veneer of civilization he remains a savage. There is a high-class school -for little boys in my district, and those at a distance are driven home in -cabs that they may not get wet in winter weather and may not be -over-fatigued. A cab is passing at this moment with four boys, who have -invited two friends to join them, and it is raining heavily. Two boys are -on the box seat with the driver, and have thoughtfully left their topcoats -inside in case they might get spoiled. There is a boy with his head out at -either window addressing opprobrious remarks to those on the box-seat, for -which insults one of them has just lost his cap, the other two are -fighting furiously in the bottom of the cab, and will come out an abject -spectacle. For you may train a dog to walk on its hind legs, and you may -tame a tiger, but you cannot take the boyness out of a boy. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -VI.—A RESIDUARY -</h2> -<h3> -I -</h3> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>XCEPTIONS may be allowed in theory, at least, but the rule stands -impregnable in reason and practice, that a wife should have the absolute -control of the household, and that no male person should meddle, even as -an irresponsible critic, with the servant department. There are limits to -the subjection of the gentler sex which reserves the right to choose its -acts of homage to the titular head of the family. Can anything be -prettier, for instance, than the deference which women of very pronounced -character will show to their husbands in some affairs? “Nothing would have -given me greater pleasure than to have taken a stall at your charming -bazaar, but my husband absolutely forbids me, and you know what a tyrant -he is about my health,” or “You really must not ask my opinion about the -Eastern Question, for I am shockingly ignorant of politics, but my husband -knows everything, and I have heard him say that the Government has been -very weak.” It would not, however, be wise for this favoured man to -trespass too far on the almost Oriental deference of his wife, or hastily -to suppose that because his word was useful in saving her from the -drudgery of an unfashionable bazaar or the weary drone of a conversational -bore, his was a universal infallibility. This sweet spirit of passive -obedience will not continue if a rash man should differ from the house -manager on the technical merits of a servant, for he will then be told -that his views on all such matters are less than nothing and vanity. -</p> -<p> -No man knows, nor ever expects to know, what women talk about after they -have left the dining-room in stately procession and secluded themselves in -the parliament of the drawing-room; but it may be guessed that the -conference, among other things, reviews the incredible folly of mankind in -the sphere of household affairs. How it will not give the head of the -family one minute's serious concern that the cook feeds her kinsfolk with -tit-bits in the kitchen, provided that his toast be crisp and his -favourite dish well cooked. How he would any day give a certificate of -character to the housemaid, if he were allowed to perpetrate such an -absurdity, simply and solely on the ground that his bath was ready every -morning, and his shaving-water hot, while he did not know, nor seem to -care, that the dust was lying thick in hidden corners. How he would excuse -the waitress having a miscellaneous circle of admirers, provided she did -not loiter at the table and was ingenious in saving him from unwelcome -callers. They compare notes on the trials of household government; they -comfort one another with sympathy; they revel in tales of male innocence -and helplessness, till they are amazed that men should be capable of even -such light duties as fall on them in their daily callings, and are -prepared to receive them kindly as they enter the room with much -diffidence and make an appeal by their very simplicity to a woman's -protecting care. -</p> -<p> -John Leslie was devoted to his very pretty and very managing wife, and had -learned wisdom, so that he never meddled, but always waited till his -advice was invited. Like other wise husbands, he could read his wife's -face, and he saw that afternoon, two days before Christmas, as soon as he -entered the drawing-room, that there had been trouble in the household. -His kiss was received without response; her cheeks had the suggestion of a -flush; her lips were tightly drawn; and there was a light in her eyes -which meant defiance. She stated with emphasis, in reply to a daily -inquiry, that she was perfectly well, and that everything had gone well -that day. When she inquired why he should suppose that anything was wrong, -he knew that it had been a black storm, and that the end thereof was not -yet. -</p> -<p> -“By the way, Flo,”—and Leslie congratulated himself on avoiding -every hidden rock,—“I've completed my list of Christmas presents, -and I flatter myself on one downright success, which suggests that I have -original genius.” - </p> -<p> -“Do you mean the picture of Soundbergh School for Jack?” said Mrs. Leslie -coldly. “I daresay he will be pleased, although I don't believe that boys -care very much for anything except for games and gingerbread cakes; they -are simply barbarians”; and as Leslie knew that his wife had been -ransacking London to get a natty portable camera wherewith Jack might take -bits of scenery, his worst-weather guess seemed to be confirmed. -</p> -<p> -“No, no, that was obvious, and I believe Jack will be fearfully proud of -his picture,” replied Leslie bravely; “but I was at my wit's end to know -what to get for old Margaret. You see, I used to give her pincushions and -works of art from the Thames Tunnel when I was a little chap, and I bought -her boas and gay-coloured handkerchiefs when I came up at Christmas from -Oxford, and you know since she left the old home and settled with us -eighteen years ago we have exhausted the whole catalogue.” - </p> -<p> -“You have, at least”; and having no clue, Leslie was amazed at his wife's -indifference to the factotum and ruler of the household, whom the junior -servants were obliged to call Mrs. Hoskins—“Mrs.” being a title of -dignity, not of marriage—or Cook at the lowest, and who was called -everything by her old boy John Leslie and his son Jack, from Maggie to -Magsibus, and answered to anything by which her two masters chose to name -her. -</p> -<p> -“Oh, you have been as keen as any one in the family about Magsy's -present,”—and Leslie still clung to hope,—“but I've walked out -before you all. What do you think of a first-class likeness of Spurgeon in -an oak frame, with his autograph? You know how she goes on about him, and -reads his sermons. It 'ill be hung in the place of honour in the kitchen, -with burnished tin and brass dishes on either side. Now, confess, haven't -I scored?” - </p> -<p> -“If you propose to put your picture on her table on Christmas morning, I -fear you will be a day late, for Margaret has given up her place, and -asked to be allowed to leave to-morrow: she wants to bid Jack good-bye -before she goes,” and Mrs. Leslie's voice was iced to twenty degrees below -freezing. -</p> -<p> -“What do you mean?” cried Leslie, aghast, for in all his dark imaginations -he had never anticipated this catastrophe. “Maggie! our Meg! leaving at a -day's notice! It's too absurd! You've... had a quarrel, I suppose, but -that won't, come to anything. Christmas is the time for... making up.” - </p> -<p> -“You do not know much about household management, John,” Mrs. Leslie -explained with much dignity. “Mistresses don't quarrel with servants, -however much provoked they may be. If I have to find fault, I make a rule -of doing so quickly and civilly, and I allow no reply. It was Margaret -flung up her place with very unbecoming language; and you may be sure this -time there will be no 'making up,' as you call it. -</p> -<p> -“What happened, Florence?” said John Leslie, with a note in his voice -which a woman never treats with disrespect. “You know I do not interfere -between you and the young servants, but Margaret has been with us since we -married, and before that was for sixteen years in my father's house. We -cannot part lightly; did she speak discourteously to you?” - </p> -<p> -“I do not know what a man may call discourtesy, but Margaret informed me -that either she or the housemaid must leave, and that the sooner the -housemaid went the better for the house.” - </p> -<p> -“But I thought that the housemaid was a Baptist too, and that Margaret and -she got on capitally, and rather looked down on the waitress because she -was a Methodist.” - </p> -<p> -“So they did for a time, till they found out that they were different -kinds of Baptists, just imagine! They had such arguments in the kitchen -that Lucy has had to sit in her pantry, and last evening Margaret called -the housemaid a 'contracted Baptist,' and she said Margaret was a 'loose -Baptist.' So Margaret told me that if she was a 'loose Baptist,' it was -not good for the housemaid to stay in the house with her; and if I -preferred a woman like that, she would go at once, and so she is going.” - “When men break on theology in the smoking-room,” remarked Leslie, “the -wise go to bed at once, and two women—and one of them old Margaret—on -the distinctions among the Baptist denomination must be beyond words and -endurance. It is natural that places should be given up, but not necessary -that the offer should be accepted. What did you say to Margaret, -Florence?” - </p> -<p> -“That she had secured the dismissal of five servants already within three -years: one because she was High Church; a second because she was no -Church; that big housemaid from Devon for no reason I could discover -except that she ate too much, as if we grudged food; the last waitress -because she did not work enough, as if that concerned her; and the one -before because she had a lover Margaret did not approve, and that I did -not propose to lose a good housemaid because she was not the same sort of -Baptist as Margaret. -</p> -<p> -“It is very nice and romantic to talk about the old family servant,” - continued Mrs. Leslie with a vibrant voice, “and I hope that I have not -been ungrateful to Margaret, but people forget what a mistress has to -suffer from the 'old family servant,' and I tell you, John, that I can -endure Margaret's dictation no longer. She must leave, or... I must”; and -when his wife swept out of the room to dress for dinner, Leslie knew that -they had come to a crisis in family life. -</p> -<h3> -II -</h3> -<p> -“How are you, mummy?” and Jack burst in upon the delighted household -gathered in the hall with a trail of loosely packed luggage behind him, -and a pair of skates he had forgotten to pack altogether, round his neck. -“I say, that's a ripping dress you have on. Cusack, our house 'pre,' says -yours is the prettiest photo he ever saw. You're looking fit, pater, but -you must come a trot with me, or you'll have a pot soon. Jolly journey? -Should rather think so! dressed old Swallow up in a rug, and laid him out -on a seat; people thought he had small-pox, and wouldn't come in; four of -us had the place to ourselves all the way: foxey, wasn't it? Cold, not a -bit. We shoved every hot-water pan in below the seats, and the chaps put -more in at every stop, till we had eight in full blast. -</p> -<p> -“Look out, cabby, and be kind to that hamper with my best china. What is -it? Oh, that's some really decent booze for the festivities—three -dozen Ripon stone ginger; and there's a dozen among my shirts. Can't get -that tipple in the South. How are you, Lucy and Mary? I've got a pair of -spiffing caps for you; do for church if you like. But where is the -youthful Marguerite? She used to be always dodging round, pretending that -she was just passing by accident. Dinner ready? All right; I'm pretty -keen, too. Tell Magsibus I'll be down after dessert with a brimming bowl -of stone ginger. -</p> -<p> -“Hello, old lady! As you didn't come up to welcome the returning prodigal -at the door, he's come down to give you his blessing. It's all right, Mag, -I was only fooling. You daren't have taken your eye off that pudding one -minute, I know. It was A 1; best thing you ever did, and awfully good to -have it for the first night. -</p> -<p> -“That gingerbread you sent took the cup this term, and no second. Fellows -offered to do my lines for me, and sucked up to me no end just to get a -slice. Ain't that the tin up there you make it in? Chap next study had a -thing he called gingerbread—feeblest show you ever saw—burnt -crust outside and wet dough inside. -</p> -<p> -“There's the old brass jam-pan, Peg, ain't it? Do you remember when Billy -Poole and I used to help at the boiling, and get the skim for our share? -Billy's won a scholarship at Cambridge; youngest chap to take it, and is a -howling Greek swell, but you bet he hasn't forgot that hot jam. Not he; -was asking for you last week. I'll get him here next autumn before he goes -up, and we'll have a jam blow-out.... What's wrong, Magsy? -</p> -<p> -“Don't blub. Tell me who's been hitting you. Is it those two young fools? -The mater will soon settle their hash. Here's my handkerchief. There, now -you're all right, ar'n't you?” - </p> -<p> -“It's really silly of me, Master Jack, and I ought to be ashamed of -myself, at my age too, but it was you speaking of next year. I thought -perhaps your mother had told you that... I am leaving tomorrow.” - </p> -<p> -“Going to leave us and your home?” and Jack sat down on the kitchen table -in stark amazement. “Where would you go to, Magsy? Why, you nursed me when -I was a kid, and you knew the pater when he was a fellow at school. Why, -you couldn't get on without us, and, look here, this circus can't be -worked without you. -</p> -<p> -“If you don't feel fit for the cooking,—and it must be a beastly -stew over the fire,—mother'ill get another hand, and you'll just -order her round and have a good time.” But Margaret sat with sad, -despairing eyes, looking straight before her, and making no sign. -</p> -<p> -“You couldn't do it, Magsibus,” and the lad came over and put his arm -round her; “it would be too mean. Didn't you promise to wait and start -house with me, the same as you did with father? and now you calmly -announce that you are going to set up for yourself, and be a lady. Oh, you -treacherous, wicked woman!” - </p> -<p> -“Master Jack, I have not a relative living, and I couldn't go to another -place—I've been too long with one family—four-and-thirty years—and -I don't know what I'll do without the sight of you, for my heart has no -portion outside this house on earth; but I must go, I cannot do otherwise, -I must go. -</p> -<p> -“You see, I'm getting old, dear, and I've been so long here that I forget -it's not my own house—God knows that I would die for you all—and -I have a temper, and I shall be... a trouble and not a help. Your mother -has been a good mistress to me, and been kinder to me than I have been to -her. I'll pray for you all as long as I live, and I would like to... see -you sometimes; but I must go, Master Jack, I must go.” - </p> -<h3> -III -</h3> -<p> -“It seems to me, Flo,” and Leslie stretched out his legs in the warmth, -“the chief good of easy circumstances is being able to afford a wood fire -in one's bedroom,—that and books. Do you remember that evil-smelling -oil-stove in our little house at Islington? By the way, did I tell you -that I ran out one afternoon last week, when I had an hour to spare, and -paid an outside visit to our first home. It looked rather forlorn, and so -small and shabby.” - </p> -<p> -“It was the dearest little house when we lived in it, John,” and Mrs. -Leslie saw wonderful things in the firelight; “and when you were at the -office I used to go from room to room, arranging and dusting and -admiring.” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, but you also had the most toothsome evening meals ready at eight -p.m. for a struggling colonial broker, and used to dress perfectly, and -did it all on next to nothing.” - </p> -<p> -“Two hundred and twenty-two pounds five shillings and threepence—that, -sir, was the first year's income. Don't you remember making up the book, -and finding we had thirty pounds over; but, then, Jack, we had... a -perfect servant.” - </p> -<p> -“Poor Margaret! what an interest she took in our daring enterprise! By the -way, your memory is better than mine, wife: didn't we tell her how the -balance stood, and she was the best pleased of the three?” - </p> -<p> -“'Praise God!' she cried, 'I knew, Mr. John, you did right to trust and to -marry, and some day I'll see you in a big house, if God will'; and then -you told her to bring up her missionary box and you gave her a sovereign, -and when she put it in, her hand was shaking for joy. Her temper has got -masterful since she grew old, and she is aggravating; but I know she's a -good woman.” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, Meg wouldn't have left us if we had been down on our luck: I believe -she would have seen us through and gone without wages”; and Leslie spoke -with the tone of one hazarding a wild speculation. -</p> -<p> -“You believe, John!” clever women are sometimes befooled. “Why, have you -forgotten that winter when you lost so heavily, and it looked as if we -would have to go into rooms, how Margaret wanted to go out cooking to help -the family, and she would have done it had not things taken a turn? -Whatever be her faults,—and she has been provoking,—she is a -loyal soul.” - </p> -<p> -“Well, we only had one bad illness, Flo, and I'll never forget the -mornings when I came from my lodgings and stood on the street, and you -told me what kind of night Jack had had, and the days when I toiled at the -office, and you fought scarlet fever at home. You were a brave woman—without -a nurse, too.” - </p> -<p> -“Without what—for shame, John!—when Maggie sat up all night -and worked all day, and was so clever that the doctor said she had saved -Jack's life—well, perhaps be admitted that I helped, but she did -more than I could—I would rather have let twenty housemaids go than -see Maggie leave, John, if she had given me the chance.” - </p> -<p> -“Margaret always had a temper, Flo, even in the old days when I was a boy, -and now she's fairly roused.” - </p> -<p> -“It isn't temper at all now, John, or I would not be so vexed: it's her -goodness which will drive her out in the end, and she'll never know one -day of happiness again. She told me to-night that she was sure that there -would always be trouble between her and the other servants, and as she had -tried to serve us well when she was younger she would not make our home -unhappy in her old age. Jack pleaded with her, and I—I nearly cried; -she was quite affected, too, but she is immovable.” - </p> -<p> -“Well, we can do no more, and you mustn't blame yourself, Flo: it has just -been a smash; and if she does go, we must see that she be made comfortable -in her last years. But I wish old Margaret were not leaving us on -Christmas Eve. Jack is very sick about it, and I rather suspect that he -was crying when I looked into his room just now; but he pretended to be -asleep, and I couldn't insult a fellow in the fifth form with remarks.” - </p> -<h3> -IV -</h3> -<p> -When the Leslies set up house, eighteen years before, Margaret received -them on their return from their ten days' wedding tour in the Lake -District, and she was careful to ask in the evening whether Mr. John would -like prayers before or after breakfast next morning. She also produced a -book of family prayers, which she had purchased in anticipation of the -sole difficulty which is understood to prevent the majority of male -householders from having worship in their homes, and asked her young -master and mistress to accept it from her. So it came to pass that owing -to Margaret there were always morning prayers at the Leslies'; and in -observance of a custom begun when there were just the three in the little -house of Islington, fighting the battle of life together, the chapter was -read round, each person taking one verse in turn. To-night Leslie divided -his time between short snatches of sleep, when he dreamt of funerals in -which Margaret departed sitting beside the driver of the hearse, while a -mourning coach followed with her luggage on the roof, and long periods of -wakefulness when he regarded next morning's prayers with dismay. Was there -a special prayer for a servant leaving her household after eighteen—no, -thirty-four years' faithful duty; and if there was not, could he weave in -a couple of sentences among the petitions? At half-past six he was certain -that he could not, and was ashamed at the thought that with that well worn -prayer-book of Margaret's before him he would allow her to depart without -a benediction, when he was visited quite suddenly, he declares, with the -most brilliant inspiration of his life. He leaped from bed and lit the gas -in hot haste, as poets are said to do when the missing word to rhyme with -Timbuctoo flashes upon the mind. -</p> -<p> -“Florence, please tell me something”; and Mrs. Leslie saw her husband -standing by her bed in poorly concealed excitement. “Where are those words -that were sung at the sacred concert: 'Intreat me not to leave thee'? I -want to know at once; never mind why. Ruth? Thanks so much,” and the noise -he made in his bath was audible through the wall, and was that of a man in -hot haste. -</p> -<p> -When Mrs. Leslie came down, her husband had a marker in the Bible -projecting six inches, and was checking certain calculations on a sheet of -paper with much care. -</p> -<p> -“Morning, Jack—slept well—not very? That's right, I mean I'm -very sorry, must have been the pudding. Not there, for any sake; sit here, -and, let me see—Florence, where are you wandering to? Take this -chair. Six, seven, eight... seventeen, yes, that's Margaret. Now ring the -bell.” And Mrs. Leslie could only look at Leslie in silence, while Jack -felt that the firmament was being shaken that day, and one catastrophe -more did not matter. -</p> -<p> -“We shall read,” said the head of the household in a shaky voice, “from—eh—the—eh—Book -of Ruth, the first chapter and the sixth verse”; and as soon as his wife -saw the passage she understood, and so did Margaret. -</p> -<p> -Round the circle went the verses—Leslie very nervous lest he should -have miscalculated—till Jack read: -</p> -<p> -“'And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following -after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I -will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.'” - </p> -<p> -Then it came to Margaret, and she began bravely, but soon weakened: “Where -thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried... the Lord do so to -me, and more also, if ought but death... part...” - </p> -<p> -“Let us pray,” said Leslie; and it is his fixed belief that, having lost -the place, he read the prayer for the close of the year and making an -attempt to right himself landed in a thanksgiving for the gift of a -new-born child; but nobody is certain and nobody cared. -</p> -<p> -“I ought to go,” said Margaret, standing very white by the sideboard after -the other servants had left the room, “and it would be better for you all, -whom I love, that I should go; but... I cannot, I can...” - </p> -<p> -“Dear old Magsibus,” and Jack had her round the waist before she could say -“not” again, or even explain, as she did afterwards, how good a woman the -housemaid was, and how much she would miss her; and as Mrs. Leslie thought -of the days they had been together, the saving the lad from death and many -another deed of loyal, ungrudging service, she did that which was contrary -to every rule of household discipline. But Leslie could not have seen his -wife kiss Margaret, for his back was turned, and he was studying the -snow-covered garden with rapt attention. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -VII.—A RACONTEUR -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>OU must excuse me the gaucherie of a compliment,” I said to Bevan in the -smoking-room, after a very pleasant dinner, “but you have never been more -brilliant. Five stories, and each a success, is surely a record even in -your experience.” - </p> -<p> -“It is very good of you to appreciate my poor efforts so highly. I felt it -a distinct risk to attempt five in one evening—six is the farthest -limit sanctioned by any raconteur of standing. You can always distinguish -an artist from a mere amateur by his severe reserve. He knows that an -anecdote is a liqueur, and he offers it seldom; but the other pours out -his stuff like vin ordinaire, which it is, as a rule, the mere dregs of -the vine. Did you ever notice how a man will come back from Scotland in -autumn, and bore companies of unoffending people with a flood of what he -considers humorous Scottish stories? It is one of the brutalities of -conversation. What irritates me is not that the material is Scottish, for -there are many northern stories with a fine flavour; it is the fellow's -utter ignorance of the two great principles of our art.” - </p> -<p> -“Which are?” - </p> -<p> -“Selection and preparation,” said Bevan, with decision. “One must first -get good stuff, and then work it into shape. It is amazing how much is -offered and how little is of any use. People are constantly bringing me -situations that they think excellent, and are quite disappointed when I -tell them they are impossible for the purposes of art. Nothing can be done -with them, although of course another artist in a different line might use -them. Now I have passed several 'bits' on to Brown-Johnes, who delivers -popular lectures. The platform story is scene-painting, the after-dinner -miniature.” - </p> -<p> -“May I ask whether you are ever taken in, as it were, with your material, -and find it 'give' after it has been manufactured, like rotten yarn or -unseasoned wood?” - </p> -<p> -“Rarely; one's eye gets to be trained so that you know a promising subject -at sight, but then comes the labour. I've heard a man bore a dinner-table -to the yawning point with a story that had some excellent points in it, -but he had taken no trouble, perhaps had no insight.” - </p> -<p> -“And you succeeded with it...?” - </p> -<p> -“It is, in my humble judgment, as good a story of its kind now as you -would wish to hear, and it bears improvement, which is a good sign. A -really high-class story will take years to perfect, just as I am told by -clergymen that a sermon only begins to go after it has been preached -twenty times.” - </p> -<p> -“You have been working on that Shakespeare bit, by the way; I noticed at -least one new touch this evening which was excellent.” - </p> -<p> -“Now that is very gratifying,” and Bevan was evidently pleased; “it is a -great satisfaction to have one's work appreciated in an intelligent -manner; perhaps you are the only one present who saw any difference. -</p> -<p> -“What I think I like best”—and he tapped his snuff-box in a -meditative way—“is to get an old, decayed, hopeless story, and -restore it. Breaking out a window here, adding a porch there, opening up a -room, and touching up the walls—it is marvellous what can be done. -Besides new drains,” he added, with significance, “the sanitary state of -some of those old stories is awful. You feel the atmosphere at the door—quite -intolerable, and indeed dangerous.” - </p> -<p> -“Then you do not think that indecency...?” - </p> -<p> -“No, nor profanity. Both are bad art; they are cheap expedients, like -strong sauces to cover bad cooking. It sounds like boasting, but I have -redeemed one or two very unpleasant tales, which otherwise had been -uninhabitable, if I may trifle again with my little figure, and now are -charming.” - </p> -<p> -“You rather lean, one would gather, to old tales, while some of the -younger men are terrified of telling a 'chestnut,' always prefacing, 'This -must be well known, but it is new to me; say at once if you have heard -it.'” - </p> -<p> -“Most humiliating, and quite unworthy of an artist. Heard it before!” and -the old gentleman was full of scorn. “Imagine a painter apologizing for -having taken a bend of the Thames or a Highland glen some man had used -before. Of course, if one makes a copy of a picture and exhibits it as his -own, that is fraud, and the work is certain to be poor. One must respect -another artist's labour, which is the ground of his copyright. But if one -makes a 'bit' of life as old as Aristophanes or Horace his own, by passing -it through his own fancy and turning it out in his own style, then it is -ever new. Then there is the telling! There are musicians who can compose, -but who cannot play, and <i>vice versâ</i>. So with our art, there are -story-tellers and story-makers. The former can suffer no wrong, for they -are self-protected, but the latter have never been protected as they -deserve in the fruit of their brains. You will see at once that, if I am -right, the ownership of an anecdote is quite beyond dispute. The original -material is really for the most part common property, and usually very -poor property—prairie land, in fact. Personal rights come in when -one has put capital into the land, has cleared and ploughed and sown it; -then it's his own, and he is entitled to fence it, and he cannot be -dispossessed except on fair terms.” - </p> -<p> -“Which would be?” - </p> -<p> -“Well, that depends. He might sell to an editor, or he might give the use -of it to a friend. Personally, as an artist of now thirty years' standing, -I do not part with my work; it may be an old-fashioned prejudice, but I -don't like to let it go to the public.” - </p> -<p> -“But to a friend?” - </p> -<p> -“Of course that is different; still, how few can be trusted. Now I once -gave Higginbotham a very nice little thing of French extraction, but not -too subtle, with just enough body to suit our palate. He beard me tell it -three times in exactly the same form, and I pledged him to make no -changes, for his hand is heavy. Would you believe me?”—and my friend -sat up in his indignation—“he gave it in my presence—but that -did not matter—and left out the best point, which I now think he had -never seen. Life has various trials in store for us as times go on,” and -Bevan leant back again. “Some are greater, some are less, but among our -minor vexations I know none like sitting at one end of a table and making -talk with your partner, while a rank amateur at the other end mangles one -of your pet anecdotes.” - </p> -<p> -“Torture, I should think; but isn't it rather trying when people miss the -point altogether or ask stupid questions?” - </p> -<p> -“Artists must take their chance of that, and one is careful; besides, I've -distinctly enjoyed such remarks,” and he looked quite genial. “It's like a -painter hearing the people criticize the pictures on a free day. Once or -twice I've got a very happy addition to a story in that way. After all, -the main end of a raconteur must be to give pleasure. Yes”—and he -began to glow—“no art is wholesome which lives for itself or for a -professional class. Art must be a criticism of life and an aid to better -living. No one can tell how much story-telling has contributed to the -brightness and elevation of life. How? By correcting foibles, by -explaining human nature, by destroying cant, by infusing good humour, by -diminishing scandal, by—but I remind myself that a raconteur ought -never to be excited or eloquent. He may, however, be a philanthropist, as -it would appear. Do you know,” with a tone of great delight, “that I was -once asked by a physician to call upon one of his patients, a mutual -friend, and spend an hour with him, as a... tonic, in fact. It was after -influenza, and the convalescent began by asking me whether I would -distribute a sum of money among the poor. 'I'm not sure what I'm dying of; -either peritonitis or pneumonia, but I'm glad to see you, Bevan, and you -will do this little kindness for me'—those were his affecting words. -'Certainly,' I said, and that led me to give him a trifle from Devonshire—excellent -place for stories—which seemed to interest him. I only told four -stories—for he was rather weak, having had a slight touch of -bronchitis—and he is pleased still to thank me,” and Bevan nodded -with much satisfaction. -</p> -<p> -As I looked at him, so filled with the pride of his art, the time seemed -to have come for a question that had long been in my mind. But it was -necessary to be careful. -</p> -<p> -“What, may I ask, Mr. Bevan, do you feel about the matter of... well, you -won't misunderstand me... of accuracy?” - </p> -<p> -“You mean whether is there any difference between giving evidence in a -witness-box and relating an anecdote. Everything. The one is a land -surveyor's plan, and must be correct to an inch. The other is a picture, -and must interpret nature. The one is a matter of fact, the other a work -of art. Imagine the folly”—and the good man rose to his feet—“if -one should demand to know whether the figures in a historical painting -stood exactly so and were dressed in those particular colours; we should -think the man mad. A story is a miniature novel, shot through with humour, -a morsel of the irony of things, a tiny comedy, and for it there is but -one rule of judgment—does it represent the spirit of life?” - </p> -<p> -“What then do you think of one who should certify an anecdote as a fact?” - </p> -<p> -“That he did not know his craft, for if the tale has no merit, then it is -little compensation to tell us it happened; if it has merit, we are sure -it ought to have happened.” - </p> -<p> -“And if one should interrupt a raconteur as he approached his point, and -should inquire whether the thing be true?” - </p> -<p> -“I am a merciful man,” said the venerable artist, “but my conviction is -that he ought to be shot.” - </p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -VIII.—WITH UNLEAVENED BREAD -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">R</span>ABBI SAUNDERSON, minister of Kilbogie, had been the preacher on the fast -day before Carmichaele's first sacrament in the Glen, and, under the full -conviction that he had only been searching out his own sins, the old man -had gone through the hearts of the congregation as with the candle of the -Lord, till Donald Menzies, who had all along suspected that he was little -better than a hypocrite, was now fully persuaded that for him to take the -sacrament would be to eat and drink condemnation to himself, and Lauchlan -Campbell was amazed to discover that a mere Lowland Scot like the rabbi -was as mighty a preacher of the law as the chief of the Highland host. The -rabbi had been very tender withal, so that the people were not only -humbled, but also moved with the honest desire after better things. -</p> -<p> -Although it was a bitter day, and the snow was deep upon the ground, the -rabbi would not remain over-night with Carmichael. Down in Kilbogie an old -man near fourscore years of age was dying, and was not assured of the way -everlasting, and the rabbi must needs go back through the snow that he -might sit by his bedside and guide his feet into the paths of peace. All -that night the rabbi wrestled with God that it might be His good pleasure -to save this man even at the eleventh hour; and it was one of the few joys -that visited the rabbi in his anxious ministry, that, before the grey -light of a winter morning came into that lowly room, this aged sinner of -Kilbogie had placed himself within the covenant of grace. -</p> -<p> -While he was ministering the promises in that cottage, and fighting a -strong battle for an immortal soul, Carmichael had sent away his dogs, and -was sitting alone in the low-roofed study of the Free Kirk manse, with the -curtains drawn and the wood fire lighting up the room—for he had put -out the lamp—but leaving shadows in the corners where there were no -books, and where occasionally the red paper loomed forth like blood. -</p> -<p> -As the rabbi preached that day, the buoyancy and self-confidence of youth -had been severely chastened, and sitting in the manse pew, curtained off -from the congregation, the conscience of the young minister had grown -tender. It was a fearful charge to lay on any man, and he only -four-and-twenty years of age, the care of human souls; and what manner of -man must he be who should minister unto them after a spiritual sort the -body and blood of Jesus Christ? How true must be his soul, and how clean -his hands! For surely, if any man would be damned in this world, and in -that which is to come, it would be the man who dispensed the sacrament -unworthily. -</p> -<p> -As he sat in the firelight the room seemed to turn into a place of -judgment. Round the walls were the saints of the Church Catholic, and St. -Augustine questioned him closely regarding the evil imagination of -youthful days, and Thomas à Kempis reproached him because he had so often -flinched in the way of the holy cross. Scottish worthies whose lives he -had often read, and whose sayings had been often quoted from the pulpit, -sat in judgment upon him as to his own personal faith and to his own ends -in the ministry. Samuel Rutherford, with his passionate letters, -reproached him for his coldness towards Christ; and MacCheyne's life, -closed in early manhood, and filled with an unceasing hunger for the -salvation of human souls, condemned him for his easy walk and -conversation; and Leighton, the gentlest of all the Scotch saints, made -him ashamed of bitter words and resentful feelings. And from the walls the -face of his mother's minister regarded him with wistful regret, and seemed -to plead with him to return to his first love and the simplicity of his -mother's faith. -</p> -<p> -The roof hung heavy over his head, and the walls took a deeper red, while -the burning logs reminded him of the consuming fire. An owl hooted outside—a -weird and mournful cry—and to the mind of a Celt like Carmichael it -seemed to be a warning to set his house in order. He crossed to the -window, which faced west, and commanded a long stretch of Glen, and, -standing within the curtain, he looked out upon the clear winter night. -How pure was the snow, putting all other white to shame! How merciless the -cold light of the moon, that flung into relief the tiniest branches of the -trees! “Holiness be-cometh thine house, O Lord, for ever.” And he was a -minister of the Word and sacrament! The people had been called unto -repentance, but he needed most of all the contrite heart. The people had -been commanded to confess their sins; it were time that he began. -</p> -<p> -He knelt at his table, bending his head over the very place where he wrote -his sermons, and as he prayed before God the sins of early years came up -before him, and passed as in a woful procession—ghosts which had -risen from their graves, in which they had long been hid beneath the green -grass and the flowers. There remained nothing for him but to acknowledge -them one by one with shame and confusion of face, and behold! as he did -so, and humbled himself before the Lord, they vanished from his sight till -he hoped that the last of them had come and gone. When it seemed to him as -if one had lingered behind the rest, and desired to see him quite alone, -and when the shroud fell down, he looked into the face of one who had been -his friend in college days, and then he knew that all which had gone -before was only a preparation, and this was now his testing time. -</p> -<p> -It was a mighty college to which Carmichael had belonged, and the men -thereof had been lifted high above their fellows, and among them all there -had been none so superior as this man who was once his friend. Some he -looked down upon because they were uncouth in manner; and some because -they were deficient in scholarship; and others, who were neither ill-bred -nor unlearned, he would have nothing to do with because they had not the -note of culture, but were Philistine in their ideas of art and in their -ignorance of “precious” literature. -</p> -<p> -In spite of all this foolishness, the root of the matter was in Frederick -Harris. No man had a keener sense of honour, no man was more ready to help -a fellow-student, none worked harder in the mission of the college, none -lived a simpler life. Yet because he was without doubt a superior person, -even beyond all other superior persons—and the college was greatly -blessed with this high order of beings—certain men were blind to his -excellences, and cherished a dull feeling of resentment against him; and -there were times when Carmichael dared to laugh at him, whereat Harris was -very indignant, and reproached him for vulgar frivolity. -</p> -<p> -One day a leaflet was found in every class-room of the college, and in the -dining-hall, and in the gymnasium, and in every other room—even, it -is said, in the Senate-room itself. Its title was, <i>A Mighty Young Man</i>, -and it was a merciless description of Harris in verse, from the crown of -his head to the sole of his foot, in all his ways and words—coarse -and insulting, but incisive and clever. He was late in entering the Hebrew -class-room that morning, and was soon conscious that the students were -interested in other things besides the authorship of the Pentateuch. -Opposite him lay the poem, and, after he had read the first verse, his -face turned to a fiery red, and then he left the class-room with much -dignity. -</p> -<p> -It had been better for himself, and it would have saved much sorrow to -Carmichael, if Harris had treated the poem with indifference; but, like -many other people who allow themselves the luxury of despising their -fellow-creatures, he was morbidly sensitive when his fellow-creatures -turned on him. For some reason, known only to himself, he concluded that -Carmichael had written the poem, and demanded an apology with threats; and -Carmichael, who had thought the thing in very poor taste, and would have -been willing to laugh at it along with Harris, was furious that he should -have been supposed guilty of such a breach of friendship. So, being a -Celt, who acts by impulse rather than by reason, he told Harris in the -Common Hall that, if he supposed that he had written the sheet, he was at -liberty to do so, and need not expect either a denial or an apology. -</p> -<p> -They never spoke again, nor met except in a public place, and when -Carmichael was ordained minister in the Glen, Harris joined a mission -settlement in one of the lowest quarters of a southern city. -</p> -<p> -From time to time Carmichael read greedily of his heroic service, and the -power which he was acquiring—for he had never been haughty with poor -people, but ever with them most gentle and humble. Again and again it had -been laid on Carmichael to write to his old friend, and express regret for -his pride, and assure him of his innocence in the matter of the squib, but -he thought that Harris ought first to write to him, and then, if he did, -Carmichael meant to telegraph, and invite his friend to come up to the -Glen, where they would renew the fellowship of former days. But Harris -gave no sign, and Carmichael had no need to telegraph. -</p> -<p> -Carmichael rose from his knees, and opened a drawer in his writing-table, -and from below a mass of college papers took out a photograph. The -firelight was enough to show the features, and memory did the rest. They -had once shared rooms together, and a more considerate chum no man could -have. They had gone on more than one walking tour together, and never once -had Harris lost his temper; they had done work together in a mission -school, and on occasion Harris had been ready to do Carmichael's as well -as his own; they had also prayed together, and there was no pride in -Harris when he prayed. -</p> -<p> -What were his faults, after all? A certain fastidiousness of intellect, -and an unfortunate mannerism, and a very innocent form of -self-approbation, and an instinctive shrinking from rough-mannered men—nothing -more. There was in him no impurity, nor selfishness, nor meanness, nor -trickiness, nor jealousy, nor evil temper. And this was the man—his -friend also—to whom he had refused to give the satisfaction of an -explanation, and whom he had made to suffer bitterly during his last -college term. And just because Harris was of porcelain ware, and not -common delf, would he suffer the more. -</p> -<p> -He had refused to forgive this man his trespass, which was his first -transgression against him, and now that he thought of it, hardly to be -called a transgression. How could he ask God to forgive him his own -trespasses? and if he neither forgave nor was forgiven, how dare he -minister the sacrament unto his people? He would write that night, and -humble himself before his friend, and beseech him for a message, however -brief, that would lift the load from off his heart before he broke bread -in the sacrament. -</p> -<p> -Then it came to his mind that no letter could reach that southern town -till Saturday morning, and therefore no answer come to him till Monday, -and meanwhile who would give the people the sacrament, and how could he -communicate himself? For his own sin, his foolish pride and fiery temper, -would fence the holy table and hinder his approach. He must telegraph, and -an impression took hold upon his heart that there must be no delay. The -clock in the lobby—an eight-day clock that had come from his -mother's house, and seemed to him a kind of censor of his doings—struck -three, for the hours had flown in the place of judgment, and now the -impression began to deepen that there was not an hour to be lost. He must -telegraph, and as the office at Kilbogie would be open at five o'clock to -dispatch a mail, they would send a wire for him. It would be heavy walking -through the snow, but the moon was still up, and two hours were more than -enough. -</p> -<p> -As he picked his way carefully where the snow had covered the ditches, or -turned the flank of a drift, he was ever grudging the lost time, and ever -the foreboding was deeper in his heart that he might be too late, not for -the opening of Kilbogie post-office, but for something else—he knew -not what. So bravely had he struggled through the snow that it was still a -quarter to five when he passed along sleeping Kilbogie; and so eager was -he by this time that he roused the friendly postmaster, and induced him by -all kinds of pleas, speaking as if it were life and death, to open -communication with Muirtown, where there was always a clerk on duty, and -to send on to that southern city the message he had been composing as he -came down through the snow and the woods: -</p> -<p> -“It was not I. I could not have done it. Forgive my silence, and send a -message before Sunday, for it is my first sacrament in Drumtochty. -</p> -<p> -“Your affectionate friend, -</p> -<p> -“John Carmichael.” - </p> -<p> -It was still dark when he reached the manse again, and before he fell -asleep he prayed that the telegram might not be too late, but as he -prayed, he asked himself what he meant, and could not answer. For the Celt -has warnings other men do not receive, and hears sounds they do not hear. -</p> -<p> -It was noon next day, the Saturday before the sacrament, and almost time -for the arrival of the preacher, before he awoke, and then he had not -awaked unless the housekeeper had brought him this telegram from “Mistress -Harris, St. Andrew's Settlement, Mutford, E.”: -</p> -<p> -“My son Frederick died this morning at eight o'clock of malignant fever. -He was conscious at the end, and we read your telegram to him. He sent -this message: 'Long ago I knew it was not you, and I ought to have -written. Forgive me, as I have forgiven you. My last prayer is for a -blessing upon you and your people in the sacrament to-morrow. God be with -you till we meet at the marriage supper of the Lamb!'” - </p> -<p> -The text which Carmichael took for his action sermon on the morrow was, -“Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them who trespass against us,” - and he declared the forgiveness of sins with such irresistible grace that -Donald Menzies twice said “Amen” aloud, and there are people who will -remember that day unto the ages of ages. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -IX.—OUR FOREIGN MANNERS -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>F a student of life will only take his stand in the hall of one of those -Swiss caravansaras which receives a trainful of Britons about six o'clock -some evening in August and despatches them on their way by Diligence next -morning, he will not lose his time, for he will have an opportunity of -studying the foreign manners of his nation. The arrival of an Englishman -of the John Bull type is indeed an event, and the place is shaken as by a -whirlwind. A loud, clear, strident voice is heard sounding in the English -tongue to the extremities of the hall, demanding that its owner be -instantly taken to the rooms—“First floor,” I said, “with best view, -according to the telegram sent yesterday,” refusing every explanation as -to there being none disengaged, insisting that, somehow or other, rooms of -that very kind be offered, and then grumbling its way upstairs, with an -accompaniment in the minor key from a deprecating landlord, till a distant -rumble dying away into the silence closes the incident. The landlord has -reluctantly admitted that he has rooms on the second floor, better than -any other in the house, which are being kept for a Russian prince, and if -Monsieur will accept them for the night—and then Monsieur calls his -wife's attention to the fact that when he put his foot down he gets his -way. One does not, of course, believe that the landlord said what was -absolutely true, and one would have been delighted had he plucked up -courage and shown our compatriot to the door. But nothing is easier (and -more enjoyable) than to point out how other people ought to conduct their -affairs, and no doubt, were we Swiss innkeepers, needing to make a year's -profit out of three months, we also would have taken rampant Englishmen by -guile, as bulls are lassoed with ropes. Your heart would be adamant if you -did not pardon the poor little device when our national voice is again -raised in the dining-room ordering away a plate on account of an invisible -smut, complaining of the wine because of a bit of cork, comparing the beef -with the home roasts, and enlarging on a dozen defects in bedroom service -to sympathetic spirits right and left, and, for that matter, as far as the -voice can reach. In England that voice will give it to be understood that -it could not be heard amid the chatter of noisy foreigners “gabbling away -goodness knows what,” but as a matter of fact no combination of German, -French, and Italian could resist the penetrating, domineering, unflinching -accent. When that host bows the voice into an omnibus next morning with -great politeness, then one has an illustration of the spread of the -Christian spirit enough to reinforce the heart in the hours of blackest -pessimism. -</p> -<p> -Would a foreigner believe that the owner of this terrible voice is really -one of the best? He is the soul of honour, and would cut off his hand -rather than do a mean deed; his servants adore him, though he gives them -what he calls a round of the guns once a week; and the last thing he did -before leaving home was to visit an old gamekeeper who taught him to shoot -the year he went to Harrow. When a good man preaches the charity sermon, -this unsympathetic Englishman is quite helpless, and invariably doubles -the sum set aside in his waistcoat pocket. Upon the bench he is merciless -on poachers and tramps; in private he is the chosen prey of all kinds of -beggars. In fact, he is in one way just what he specially detests—a -sham—being the most overbearing, prejudiced, bigoted, the most -modest, simple-minded, kind-hearted of men; and, in spite of that -unchastened voice, a gentleman from the crown of his head to the sole of -his foot. Certainly he ordereth over much, but he will take care that -every servant has a reward before he leaves—going back from the -omnibus to tip “that fellow with the green apron” who did some trifle for -him last night—and if the landlord had only had the discernment to -have described that accident to him, the driver's widow would have been -richer by fifty francs. -</p> -<p> -The blame of our foreign manners is partly geographical. We happen to be -bom in an island, and our amazing ideas about continentals are being very -slowly worn away by travel. It is just breaking on the average Briton -that, although a foreigner does not splash in his bath of a morning so -that neighbouring rooms can follow the details of his toilette, he may not -be quite uncleanly; that one need not hide all his valuables beneath his -pillow because the other three men in his compartment of the wagon lit do -not speak English; that an Italian prince is not always a swindler, but -may have as long a pedigree as certain members of the House of Lords; and -that the men who constructed the Mont Cenis and St. Gothard tunnels must -at least have understood the rudiments of engineering science. The puzzled -expression on our countryman's face when he discovers that the foreigner -can give us points—in conveyance of luggage, for instance, or the -making of coffee, or in the small agriculture—goes to your heart. It -seems to him a surprise on the part of Providence, and a violation of the -favoured nation's clause. -</p> -<p> -Perhaps it ought also to be said in our defence that we are afflicted by -the infirmities of a ruling people. We are not only profoundly conscious -that we are an invincible nation ourselves, but also are saturated with -the belief that we have a commission to govern other nations. Our talents -are mostly exercised in India and Africa, but if one reigns absolutely -anywhere, he carries himself as a king everywhere, and the ordinary -Englishman annexes any place he fancies in holiday time because his -fathers have been appropriating provinces from time immemorial. One -sometimes falls a prey to the Philistine that is in us all, and begins -also to despise what our friend pleasantly calls “all this scraping and -bowing,” by which he means a Frenchman's politeness in little things, and -is tempted to think that it would be better if local government on the -Continent were relieved of a burden of petty rules and a host of gorgeous -officials, and were reinforced by a strong infusion of downright common -sense. One means, in plain words, that if a foreign district were handed -over to an English stipendiary magistrate and a score of London policemen, -its people would learn for the first time the scope and meaning of good -government. -</p> -<p> -Many well-doing Englishmen cannot unto this day achieve a single -grammatical sentence in any language except their own, and are free from -all pretensions. Our rector stoutly declares that in his popular lecture, -“To Paris and back, or a Glimpse of French Life,” he did not cite the -familiarity of Parisian children with French as a proof of the precocity -of foreigners, but he can never watch two Frenchmen in conversation -without innocent enjoyment. The sounds they make are marvellous, but it is -beyond question that they mean something, and it is pleasant to know that -persons who cannot speak English are not left without means of -communication. Foreigners, an Englishman remembers, labour under hopeless -disabilities. Little can be expected from a people whose language permits -a sentence—in a scientific book too—to end with “zu, ab,” and -one may not be Pharisaic and yet have gloomy views—this illustration -can be used in the pulpit—about a nation that has no word for home. -One of our French class at school, a stout gentleman now, and worth -£100,000, declares he would never demean himself by any attempt at foreign -tongues, and demands that foreigners should learn English, “which will yet -be the language of the world.” He was recently boasting that he had -travelled a month by the aid of signs, although he does himself less than -justice, for on sight of the railway station he will say “Bannhof, eh?” to -the driver in quite a jocular way, as one by way of pleasing a four-footed -pet. -</p> -<p> -Tittups, on the other hand, who reached the confines of the future tense -with Moossy, and who affects culture, is understood to have an easy -acquaintance with at least three Continental tongues in their more -literary forms—colloquialisms he firmly refuses—and is worth -hearing in a Florentine shop. “Avete voi” (Tittups is a little man, with a -single eyeglass, and a voice three sizes too large for him); “ah... what -you call... ah, papier und... ah, ein, that is eine Feder,” goes through a -panto-mine of writing, and finally obtains what he wants by pointing it -out with his stick. He is fond of enlarging on the advantage of reading -Italian, and insists that no translation has ever conveyed the grander -ideas of Dante, although Tittups admits that the ancient Italian tries -him. “Have to work at it, you know; but the modern, a boy who knows his -grammar can manage it. Seen the <i>Giomate di Roma</i> to-day?” Italians -have a keener insight into character than any people in Europe, and one -could almost pardon the attendant in the Mediterranean sleeper who -insisted that Tittups must be a native-born Tuscan from the way he said -“baga-glia.” - </p> -<p> -“Gli,” Tittups mentioned casually to a friend, is a test in Italian -pronunciation, and he presented the discerning critic with a five-franc -piece at Calais. -</p> -<p> -But why should the average man laugh at Tittups, as if he had never had -experiences? Has he never been asked by his companion, to whom he has been -an oracle on German literature, to translate some utterly absurd and -unnecessary piece of information posted on the carriage, and been humbled -in the dust? -</p> -<p> -“Oh,” he said, quite carelessly, “something about not leaving the train -when it is in motion—zug, you know.” - </p> -<p> -“Pardon, mein Herr” (voice from the opposite side—what business had -he to interfere?) “but the rule, when it has into English been translated, -shall read———” and it turns out to be a warning not to -stop the train without “plausible” reasons. Nothing is more disconcerting -(and offensive) than to discover that the two imperturbable Germans in -your carriage understand English perfectly, after you have been expressing -your mind on German habits with that courtesy and freedom which are the -prerogative of the Briton abroad. And can anything be more irritating and -inexplicable than to find one's painfully accumulated store of foreign -words ooze away in the crisis of travel, so that a respectable British -matron, eager to be driven by the sea road at Cannes, is reduced to -punching cocher in the small of the back with her parasol and shouting -“eau de vie”—“and he drew up at a low public-house, as if we had -been wanting a drink”—while her husband just escapes an apoplectic -seizure, utilizing the remnants of three languages to explain his feelings -as a Custom-house officer turns the contents of his portmanteau upside -down. -</p> -<p> -It is not wise, however, for avaricious foreigners to trade upon our -simplicity, for there is always a chance that they may catch a Tartar. -Never have I seen a more ingenuous youth (in appearance) than one who -travelled with me one night from Geneva to Paris. His unbroken ignorance -of Continental ways, which opposed (successfully) the introduction of more -than four persons into our second; his impenetrable stupidity, which at -last saved him from the Customs; his unparalleled atrocities on the French -language, seemed to precede him on the line and suggest opportunities of -brigandage. They charged him eighteen francs for his supper at a place -where we stopped for nearly twenty minutes, and would likely have -appropriated the remaining two francs out of the Napoleon he offered, but -the bell sounded, and he bolted, forgetting in his nervousness that he had -not paid. The garçon followed, whom he failed to understand, and three -officials could not make the matter plainer. When the public meeting -outside our door reached its height there were present the station-master, -seven minor officials, two gendarmes in great glory, a deputation of four -persons from the buffet, an interpreter whose English was miraculous, and -a fringe of loafers. Just as the police were about to do their duty our -fellow passenger condescended on French—he had preferred English -words with foreign terminations up to that point. His speech could not -have exceeded three minutes, but it left nothing to be desired. It -contained a succinct statement of facts—what he had eaten, and how -much each dish cost; what he was charged, and the exact difference between -the debt and the demand; an appeal to the chef de gare to investigate the -conduct of the buffet where such iniquities were perpetrated on guileless -Englishmen; and lastly a fancy sketch of the garçon's life, with a -selection of Parisian terms of abuse any two of which were enough to -confer distinction for a lifetime. He concluded by offering three francs, -forty-five cents, as his just due to the manager of the buffet, and his -thanks to the audience for their courteous attention. -</p> -<p> -“I am an Englishman by birth,” he explained to a delighted compartment, -“but Parisian by education, and I think this incident may do good.” - </p> -<p> -Certainly it has often done one man good, and goes excellently with -another where imagination reinforces memory with happy effect. One had a -presentiment something was going to happen when two devout ladies secured -their places in the Paris express at Lourdes, and before they entered -placed the tin vessel with water from the sacred well on the floor of the -compartment. It was certainly unfortunate that they did not keep it in -their arms till the precious treasure could be deposited in the rack. -Lourdes pilgrims would recognize the vessel even in its state of temporary -humiliation, but there was a distinct suggestion of humbler uses, and an -excited Englishman must not be hardly judged. -</p> -<p> -“Here you are, dear,” he shouts to his wife, guarding the rugs; “plenty of -room, and a hot water pan for your feet.” - </p> -<p> -They all got in together—two Parisian ladies, who (likely) could not -speak a word of English, and our fellow patriot, who was (likely) as -ignorant of French. And the tin vessel. -</p> -<p> -Did they lift it with reverence and fold it in many wraps, and did he -fight for its possession? Are they still describing the wanton impiety of -this heretic? and has he a conclusive illustration of the incredible folly -of our neighbours? Perhaps, after all, they knew each other's tongues, and -then nothing happened; but surely there must have been circumstances, and -I, with a spare moment at my disposal occasionally, refused to be robbed -of that interior. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -X.—NILE VIEWS -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>F one has only three weeks' holiday, and desires sunshine for his body, -let him spend the time upon the Riviera, where he will get a few degrees -higher temperature and a little more sunshine than in Cornwall—with -worse food and a more treacherous climate—and if he rather desires -inspiration for his mind, let him go to Florence; but in any case let him -understand that there is no place in Europe where one can get equal good -both for mind and body, and no place where one can escape winter. Upon -this matter doctors dream dreams and invalids fondly talk against facts, -for the cold in Florence, say, in the month of February, is quite -monumental for its piercing quality, and bad weather on the Riviera is -more cheerless than a wet day in the West Highlands, since in the latter -case you can get a decent fire during the day, and in the evening you may -have a sunset to remember for life. If, however, through any conjunction -of favourable circumstances, a man has six weeks at his disposal in winter -time (it is not likely he will have this very often in the present vale of -tears), then let him take his courage in both his hands, and go to the -Nile. Suppose he had three months, and were a good sailor, then he ought -to join a P. and O. liner at London, and go the long sea voyage, for there -is a chance, even in December or January, that he might have summer -weather on the fickle Mediterranean, and—such things have happened—across -the Bay. But with half that, time his plan is to go by the special boat -express to Marseilles, and join his steamer there for Port Said; or, if he -be hopelessly in fear of the sea, and wishes to save every hour for Egypt, -to take the Brindisi mail, and cross to Port Said by one of the two -passenger torpedo boats which make the passage between Italy and Egypt in -about forty-eight hours either over the sea or through it. -</p> -<p> -Until it has been completely rebuilt after Western fashions, and electric -trolley cars are running down a widened Mooskee, and the men have given up -the tarboosh and the women their veil, Cairo will always fascinate a -European by its Eastern atmosphere. Sitting on the verandah before his -hotel, and looking over the heads of a herd of dragomen, guides, pedlars, -and beggars, he will see a panorama pass. A Pasha's carriage, with a -running footman in front, and the great man within, mourning the -restraints of European government; a camel from the outlands laden with -fresh green grass; a water-seller with his leather barrel upon his back; a -company of Egyptian soldiers, marching admirably, and looking as if they -could go anywhere; working women in dark blue, with only their eyes -visible, which are said to be the single beautiful feature they possess; a -closed carriage, with two ladies of a great man's harem; a miscellaneous -crowd of sellers of many articles, shouting their goods, and workmen of -many trades carrying things they have made; a Bedouin from the desert in -his white flowing robes, tall and stately, and a Nubian as black as ebony -from up country, with people of all shades between white and black, and in -all colours; here and there a European tourist looking very much out of -place in his unsightly garments, and a couple of Highland soldiers looking -as if the whole place belonged to them. And if one desires to bathe in the -life of the place, then he can spend a day drifting up and down the -Mooskee, plunging down side alleys, attending native auctions, watching -street dramas, bargaining in bazaars, and visiting mosques; but the wise -man who is seeking for rest will not abide long in Cairo. Its air is close -and not invigorating, its smells innumerable and overpowering, its social -occupations wearisome and exacting, and its fleas larger, hungrier, more -impudent, and more insinuating than those of any other place I have ever -known. When the visitor has seen the citadel—and sunset from the -citadel is worth the journey to Cairo—and half a dozen of the -grander mosques, and the Pyramids and the great Museum of Egyptian -Antiquities, then, although it may be difficult to resist the delightful -hospitality of the English community, military and civil, the traveller -had better start by the Nile for Upper Egypt. -</p> -<p> -Nothing surely can be so restful as life on a Nile boat, where one lies at -his ease upon the deck with some book like <i>Pyramids in Progress</i> in -his hand, and watches the procession along the banks of men, women, and -children, donkeys, camels, cattle, and occasionally horses, which goes on -from Cairo to Assouan, and, so far as I know, to Khartoum, and looking -into the far distances of the desert, across the strip of green on either -side of the river, and listening to the friendly sound of the water wheels -which distribute the Nile through the parched ground, and then standing to -see the blood-red sunset fade into orange and green and violet, while the -river turns into that delicate and indescribable colour which, for want of -some other word, is known as water-of-Nile. The river itself takes hold of -the imagination, whose origin has been a historical mystery, on whose rise -and fall the welfare of a country depends, which carries the fertility of -Egypt in its bosom, and on which nations depend for their very life. No -wonder it runs as a blue streak through the frescoes in the tombs, and is -never away from the thoughts of the painters, for the Nile runs also -through the life of the people. It is the great highway up which the -native boats sail their skilful course driven by the north wind, down -which they drop laden with produce or pottery. It gives them the soil they -till, which is rich enough to bear twelve harvests a year, if crops could -be ripened in a month. Upon its banks the people sit as at their club; -they bring down their cattle to water at it, they wash in the Nile, both -themselves and their clothes, they swim and dive in the Nile as if they -had been bom in it, and they drink its thick, brown, sweet water with such -relish that a native Egyptian resents the idea of a filter because it -takes away from him the very joy of taste, and laughs at the idea of -danger from his loved Nile, which may give typhoid fever to Western -tourists, but will never do any injury to its own children. -</p> -<p> -After sugar cane and doora, the chief product of the steaming, prolific -Nile valley is the Fellaheen, who are not the descendants of the ancient -Egyptians, a lineage justly claimed by the Copts, but who are the Egyptian -people of to-day. The Fellah is the absolute creature of his environment, -an offspring of Nile mud, and when he is working on his field, in the -garments nature gave him, can hardly be distinguished from the soil. He is -brown, well-built, enduring, with perfect teeth and excellent health. His -home is a mud hut, with one room where he and his family eat, and another -where they sleep, and a courtyard inhabited by the livestock of goats, -donkeys, cocks and hens, pigeons, and a dog. It is thatched with palm -branches or doora straw, and on the roof the dog will promenade in the -daytime with great dignity, and from the roof, when the moon is shining, -and thoughts occur to his mind, he will express himself to the other -seventy-six dogs of the village who are on their roofs, and are also moved -to speech, with the result that no European can sleep in the vicinity. Add -a few vessels and mats by way of furniture to the inside of the hut, and -build a mud jar on the top of the courtyard wall where the baby of the -family can be put in safety, and the household equipment of the Fellah is -complete. He is very ignorant, is not very keen about his religion, has no -principles, except a habit of industry and a keen sense of property, and -he has not one comfort or luxury of civilization, and not one political or -national ambition. But he has all the clothes he needs, which certainly is -not very much; he has plenty to eat, and for drink the endlessly -delightful Nile water; he is very seldom cold, and he has sunshine from -January to December, and from morning to night. Thanks to England, he is -no longer dragged away to work upon canals and public enterprises without -wages and without food, and to perish through toil and disease as his -father did, but is now paid and cared for when working for the community. -He is no longer in terror of the lash, and he is not robbed by his rulers; -he gets justice at the courts, and is now being delivered from the hands -of the money-lender, that terror of the East, by the excellent national -bank which has been recently established, and which advances him money on -reasonable terms. We pity him as we pass, toiling at his shadoof, or -coming like a rabbit out of his burrow, because he works so hard and lives -so plainly, and has no books and no vote, and no glass in his windows, and -no cheap trips. But perhaps we had better reserve our pity for the home -land. One does not see in the Arab village the ignoble squalor of a town -slum, nor the dreary, hopeless poverty, nor the evil look of degraded -people, nor the miserable intemperance. The Fellah does not stand very -high in the evolution of society, and neither his wife nor his child is -particularly fortunate; one would not wish to be a Fellah, but, at any -rate, he does not know the pinch of want, he is on good terms with -everybody, he has a ready joke, which perhaps it is better you do not -understand, and a quick smile; he is a well-fed and contented animal. -</p> -<p> -The Fellah can be studied near at hand in your donkey boy, who is simply a -Nile peasant quickened by contact with Europeans. Within five minutes he -sizes you up with unerring judgment, and knows whether he can get -baksheesh from you by annoyance, or will fare better by leaving you in -peace; whether he can do as he pleases with you in the matter of speed, or -whether it will be better to do as you tell him. Once you are on good -terms with him—have learned the name of the donkey, approved the -donkey's excellence and his own, and settled whether you are going to race -or not—he settles down to make the journey agreeable both for -himself and you. He will make jests about every little incident, join in -the chorus of English songs, give information, such as he can, on -antiquities, and delight to teach you Arabic. Suppose you have a long wait -somewhere, and time is dragging, two of the junior donkey boys will -improvise a play. They will get up a fight, and after cuffing one another -in a way that would almost deceive you into the belief that they were -serious, one will knock the other down, and the fallen hero will look as -dead as Rames es the Great. A crowd will gather round him, lifting a leg -or an arm, which falls heavily to the ground, raising his head, which -rolls helplessly to the side. Horrified, they will then look at one -another, and shake their heads; they will cover the dead man's face, and -proceed to carry him home. By-and-by they will have a funeral, and convey -the corpse to the cemetery with wailing and weeping, and after it has been -solemnly laid to rest there will be a rapid and delightful resurrection. -The mourners will turn a set of somersaults with extraordinary rapidity, -the murderer and his victim will give a gymnastic exhibition, and then the -whole company, having raised an enthusiastic hip, hip, hurrah! in applause -for their own drama and as a genial tribute to the Anglo-Saxon race, will -stand opposite you in a body with the most solemn countenance and demand -baksheesh. -</p> -<p> -Like other folk, the donkey boys have their own trials, and I am still -sorry for Hassan, who attended me for four days at Luxor, and with whom I -became very friendly. His donkey was called Telephone, and was very -strong, handsome, and well caparisoned, and had, indeed, only one vice, -and that was that he would not go slowly, although the thermometer stood -at 130 degrees in the sun, but insisted on leading the procession. Hassan -had just married, and was never weary of describing the beauty and -goodness of his sixteen-year-old bride, and he was greatly lifted when I -sent home to her by his own hand a present of a silk headdress—I -think at least that was what the silk would be used for—such as I -was assured by a native friend the young women of that ilk greatly loved. -Hassan parted with me in high spirits when I went up the river, and I -promised that, on my third visit to Egypt, which will likely never take -place, I would ride no other donkey but “Telephone,” and have no other -footman but Hassan. And then tidings reached me at Assouan that the poor -bridegroom had been drawn for the army. For thirteen years he would have -to serve, partly in the regular forces, partly in the police, and for half -the time he would be entirely separated from his wife, and perhaps for it -all, and at the thought thereof and the terror of the army, and the -unknown places and duties before him, there was great lamentation in -Hassan's little home. So Hassan is by this time being drilled at Cairo, -and soon will be a smart soldier in the Egyptian army; but up at Luxor his -young wife will be mourning for him, and, alas! for an Eastern woman, she -will be aged before Hassan returns. This is the shadow which hangs over -the life of a Fellah. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -XI.—THE RESTLESS AMERICAN -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>ANY Americans were good enough to call upon me before I had the pleasure -of visiting their country, and many Americans have called since, and no -American ever does me this honour without charging the very atmosphere of -my study with oxygen, and leaving an impression of activity which quickens -my slow pulses and almost reduces me to despair. -</p> -<p> -It is now several years ago that a tall, thin, alert man followed his card -into my study with such rapidity that I had barely time to read it before -my visitor was in the room. -</p> -<p> -“My name is Elijah K. Higgins, and I am a busy man. You are also busy and -have no time to fool away. Four days is all I can give to the United -Kingdom, and I wished to shake hands with you. Good-bye, I am off to -Drumtochty.” - </p> -<p> -I calculate that Mr. Higgins spent thirty seconds in my study, and left -the room so swiftly that I overtook him only at the front door. When I -asked him if he knew where Drumtochty was, “Guess I do!” he said. “Got the -route in my pocket, north-west from Perth, N.B.,” and in two seconds more -he was whirling away in a fast hansom. As I returned to my study and -imagined my visitor compassing Great Britain (I think he excluded Ireland, -but I am not certain) in four days, I was for a moment roused from the -state of comparative lethargy which we, in England, call work, and added -six more engagements to my afternoon's programme. For days afterwards, and -as often as I was tempted to rest in my chair, the remembrance of that -whirlwind gave me a shock of new vigour. Sometimes a reaction would -follow, and I humbly thanked Providence, although that was to write myself -a weakling and a sluggard, that I was not bom in the country where Mr. -Higgins lived and was at home. -</p> -<p> -Such lively experiences, which I often recall in jaded moments, prepare -one for a visit or a re-visit to America, as a tonic gives a sluggish -person an appetite for dinner, and it is bare justice to say that one's -expectations of American energy in its own home have not been -disappointed. If Americans, depressed by our heavy climate and our -leisurely life, could yet maintain such a level of thought and motion, -what might not be possible to them in their own country, where the -atmosphere is charged with electricity, and every second man is a “hustler -from way-back.” The stir of the New World affects the visitor and quickens -his pulses as he goes up the Hudson and gets his first glimpse of New -York. Your steamer had waited four hours at Queenstown for the mails, but -the same mails were transferred to the United States tender as the steamer -steams up the bay. Little tugs dart about on all sides with feverish -speed, and larger steamers pass with their upper machinery indecently -exposed, as if there had not been time, or it had not been worth while, to -cover it. Buildings of incredible height line the shores, and suggest that -the American nation, besides utilizing the ground, proposes also to employ -the heavens for commercial purposes. It was, I think, a Texas paper which -translated the austere saying, “<i>Per aspera ad astra</i>,” into “the -hustler gets to heaven,” and certain New York builders seem now to be on -the way. Whetted by this overture on the river, one is ready for the full -music of the city; and I wish to pay the compliment with all honesty that -New York, with the possible exception of Chicago, is the activest and -noisiest place I have ever seen, or expect to see, in this present world. -While an English merchant saunters down to his office between nine and -ten, a New York man rises at half-past six in his suburb and is busy at -work at eight o'clock. The Englishman takes off an hour during the day for -luncheon at his club, while the American eats his meal in fifteen minutes. -The Englishman spends more than another hour at afternoon tea, and gossip -with friends, and sauntering about between his club and his office, while -the American packs every minute with work. The very walk of an English -merchant, slow, dignified, self-satisfied, and that of the American, -rapid, eager, anxious—the one looking as if time were of no -importance nor circumstances, and the other as if the loss of a minute -might mean ruin—are the visible indices to the character of the -nations. It is only yesterday that elevators were introduced into English -city buildings, and there are many London offices to which you still have -to make an Alpine ascent of four stairs; but a New Yorker regards a stair -as a survival of barbarism, and hardly knows how to use it. The higher -buildings have several sets of elevators, like the four tracks which -railways lay down to work the swift and slow traffic. -</p> -<p> -“Don't go in there,” my friend said, with whom I was going to lunch at a -club on the top floor of a many-storied New York building. “That's an -accommodation elevator; stops, you know, at every station. This is the -express for the top floor.” - </p> -<p> -“Would it have made much difference?” I said. -</p> -<p> -“Very nearly a minute,” as if the loss of the minute would have thrown us -back for the rest of the day. -</p> -<p> -No man goes slow if he has the chance of going fast, no man stops to talk -if he can talk walking, no man walks if he can ride in a trolley car, no -one goes in a trolley car if he can get a convenient railway, and -by-and-by no one will go by railway car if he can be shot through a -pneumatic tube. No one writes with his own hand if he can dictate to a -stenographer, no one dictates if he can telegraph, no one telegraphs if he -can telephone, and by-and-by, when the spirit of American invention has -brought wireless telegraphy into thorough condition, a man will simply sit -with his mouth at one hole and his ear at another, and do business with -the ends of the earth in a few seconds, which the same machine will copy -and preserve in letter books and ledgers. It is the American's regret that -at present he can do nothing with his feet while he is listening at the -telephone, but doubtless some employment will be found for them in the -coming age. -</p> -<p> -If a slow-witted and slow-moving Englishman desires a liberal education, -let him take a journey of a month on the steam cars in the United States. -No train in Europe travels as fast as certain American expresses, and if -other trains go slower it is a matter of thankfulness, because they are -less likely to kill passengers on level crossings, or in the main streets -of the city along which they take their way, and cattle have more time to -get off the unprotected tracks. As trains have also a trick of jumping the -rails, either through the rails spreading or the eccentricity of the -engine, both being instances of exuberant national vitality, it is just as -well that every express does not go at the rate of the Empire State -Express on the New York Central. Nowhere in Europe can a traveller find -stronger or handsomer cars, and they are marvels of adaptability and -convenience. There is a dining car, in order that you may not lose time at -a station, and also, which is not unimportant, in order that you may be -able to occupy your time with something practical on the train. Of course, -there is a smoking compartment, where men can compare notes upon politics -and business, and be able to escape from idleness and themselves. The best -expresses have a reading car, where the American can pick up such morsels -of information from the magazines as he can contain between the -interstices of business. There is a desk where he can read his letters, -and a typewriter to answer them, for this train is the American's -sleep-ing-place and dining-place, and his home and his office. One thing -only he regrets; the train, as it flies along, is not connected with the -telegraph and the telephone, so that, as an idea occurs to him or he -obtains a hint from a man in the smoking car, he might be able to do -business with his correspondents in Chicago or San Francisco. While an -Englishman on a railway journey is generally dressed in roughly and -loosely fitting tweeds, suggestive of a country life and of sport, the -coat of his American cousin is of dark material and has not a superfluous -inch of cloth. From his collar to his neat little boot the American is -prim, spick-and-span, and looks as if he had come out of a band-box and -were ready to appear in the principal room of any office. He is dressed in -fact for business, and looks like business from the crown of his head to -the sole of his feet, while an Englishman's appearance suggests that he is -going to see a cricket match or that he has retired to live upon a farm. -</p> -<p> -My countryman arrives at the station with two and a half minutes to spare, -and laden with small baggage. A porter carries his rug and an ulster, very -likely also a hat-box and a bag with books, papers, and such like in it, -to say nothing of an umbrella and a mackintosh, and he secures his seat at -the last moment. He fastens his hat above his head, puts on a travelling -cap, changes into an ulster, if it be winter time, and throws a rug over -his knee; he puts on travelling gloves, and gets out the Times, and he -will sit without budging and read his <i>Times</i> without intermission -for fifty minutes. Besides these trifles with him in the carriage, he has -a portmanteau in the van, which he hopes has been addressed, and which the -porter promised to see put in, and he will scramble for it at his terminus -along with a hundred other passengers, who are all trying to identify and -extricate their luggage from a huge heap on the platform. -</p> -<p> -The American reaches the dépôt by a trolley car ten minutes at least -before the hour of departure, having sent his heavy luggage, if he has any—which -is not likely—by baggage express. His only personal equipment is a -slim and compact valise, which, in regard to opening and shutting, is a -marvel of convenience. This he carries in his hand, and places beneath or -beside the seat which he has secured two days before. He does not carry a -rug because the cars are heated, nor an umbrella because it is not the -rainy season. His top coat he hangs up beside his seat, as if he were in -his own house; and his hat if he so please. He does not wear a -travelling-cap any more than in his own drawing-room, nor gloves in the -train any more than in his own office. Should his hands be soiled, he goes -to the lavatory where there are large basins and an ample supply of water, -and if his coat be dusty, there is a negro porter in every car to brush -it. The immense repose of the English traveller is quite impossible for -this mercurial man, whose blood and whose brain are ever on a stir. Very -rarely will you see him reading a book, because he is not accustomed to -read, and the demands of a book would lessen his time for business -meditation. Boys with newspapers circulate through the cars, and he buys -each new paper as it appears at the different towns. Whether it be -Republican, or Democratic, or a family paper or a yellow journal, does not -matter to him; he glances at the startling headings, takes an accident or -a political scandal at a mouthful, skims over the business news, sees -whether anything has happened at the Philippines, notes that the canard of -the morning has been contradicted in the afternoon, and flings paper after -paper on the floor. Three minutes or, in cases of extreme interest, five -minutes suffice for each paper, and by-and-by this omnivorous reader, who -consumes a paper even more quickly than his food, is knee deep in printed -information or sensation. For two minutes he is almost quiet, and seems to -be digesting some piece of commercial information. He then rises -hurriedly, as if he had been called on the telephone, and makes for the -smoking-car, where he will discuss “Expansion” with vivid, picturesque -speech, and get through a cigar with incredible celerity. Within fifteen -minutes he is in his place again; and, a little afterwards, wearying of -idleness, he is chewing the end of a cigar, which is a substitute for -smoking and saves him from being wearied with his own company. Half an -hour before the train is due at his station, he is being brushed, and -getting ready to alight. Before the train has reached the outskirts of the -town, he has secured his place in a procession which stands in single file -in the narrow exit passage from the Pullman. Each man is ready dressed for -business and has his valise in his hand; he is counting the minutes before -he can alight, and is envying the man at the head of the procession, who -will have a start of about two seconds. This will give him a great -advantage in business, and he may never be overtaken by his competitors -till evening. -</p> -<p> -Suppose he lands at 6 a.m., he will find breakfast ready in a hotel, and -half a dozen men eating as if their lives depended upon finishing by 6.15 -a.m. Before seven he will have disposed of a pile of letters, dictating -answers to a typist attached to the hotel, he will have telegraphed in all -directions, and made half a dozen appointments in the town by telephone. -Within the forenoon he will finish his business and depart for some -neighbouring town, lunching on the cars. The second town he will dispose -of in the afternoon, and that evening go on board the sleeper to travel -400 miles to a third town, where he is going to negotiate a contract at 8 -o'clock next morning. If you sympathize with him, and wonder how flesh and -blood can stand the speed, he accepts your sympathy as a compliment, and -assures you that he never sleeps so well as on the cars. He never seems to -be out of sorts or out of temper: he is always thoroughly alive and quite -good-natured. Sometimes he may seem for a moment annoyed, when he cannot -telegraph as often as he wants along the line, or when the train is not on -time, that he may make a connection. Nothing would wound him so deeply as -to “get left,” and he can only affect to be unconscious when some one -declares that he is “no slouch, and that there are no flies on him.” If he -is obliged to spend two hours doing nothing in a hotel, when business is -over, then he rocks himself and smokes, and it is a wonderful spectacle -for an indolent Englishman to look down from the gallery that commands the -hall of the hotel, and to see fifty able-bodied fellow-men who have worked -already twelve hours, at least, and put eighteen hours' work into the -time, all in motion. (One wonders why this motion is not utilized to drive -something.) He discovers how unlike cousins may be, for an Englishman -never moves unless he is obliged to or unless he wants to shoot something, -and these remarkable men never rest unless when they are asleep. About -that even, I am not sure, and I was often tempted to draw aside the -curtain from a berth in a sleeping-car, and, had I done so, I should not -have been at all surprised to find our friend wide awake with a cold cigar -in his cheek, and rocking his knees for want of more extensive -accommodation. He has always rebelled against the ancient custom of sleep, -which he regards as a loss of time and an anachronism. All that he can do -is to spend the night in a sleeping car, which, as he will tell you, -annihilates time and space. -</p> -<p> -Foreigners travelling in the States in their innocence are amazed that a -delicate-minded nation, like the Americans, should be willing to sleep -after the fashion of the Pullman cars, and should not insist upon the -Continental cabin-car. The reason for the Arcadian simplicity of the -sections is not really economy, for no American would ever think twice of -spending a dollar; it is simply their abounding and dominant energy. If -you sleep in cabins at night, you must sit in cabins by day; and this -would mean a seclusion and repose which are very distasteful to the -high-strung American temperament. It would be like bottling up a volatile -gas; and one imagines that it might lead to an explosion, which some day -would break down the partitions and break up the car from end to end. The -American must see everything in his car and hear everything, for which he -depends upon the peculiar quality of the local voice; and he must be at -liberty to prowl about his car, and to sit with his friends here and -there. The car is his little world for the time, and he is not going to -live in a backwater. -</p> -<p> -There seems no doubt that an American workman will do from twenty-five to -thirty-three per cent, more than an Englishman in the same time, and that -the higher wages of the American have their compensation for the -capitalist in a workman's quickness of mind and sleight of hand. -Everything goes at an accelerated speed, with wonderful inventions in -labour-saving machinery and devices to economize time. If the great end of -a nation be to do as much as possible in as short a time as possible, then -the American climate has been practically arranged for that end. An -Englishwoman living in the States becomes effervescent, and the native -American is the brightest woman on the face of the earth. While the -English atmosphere is heavy and soothing, and lends itself to thought and -quietness, the American climate is exciting and exhilarating, and quickens -both mind and body to the highest activity. It is an electric climate, and -the electricity has passed into the people, who are simply vessels charged -up to a certain number of volts. These vessels as sources of motive power -can then be attached to pulpits, or offices, or workshops or politics. Of -course, a day is apt to come when the vessels will have been completely -discharged, and it arrives very frequently without warning. A little -confusion in the head, and a slight numbness in the limbs, and the man has -to go away a year to Colorado Springs or to Los Angeles. If he is -fortunate, he can be recharged and run for another five or ten years; then -nature does not give any warning, but simply stops the heart or darkens -the brain, and you must get another man. -</p> -<p> -No one, unless he leaves the country or becomes a crank, can escape from -this despotism of activity; he is part of the regiment and must march with -his fellows. The idea of making a competency and then retiring, say, into -the country, never crosses a man's mind. When you urge economy upon a man -for this end, you have injured your case, and are pleading on the other -side. With such a prospect before him, he is more than ever resolved to be -a spendthrift. To seclude an active American in an old-fashioned country -house, with ivy climbing round its Tudor windows, even although there -should be a library of black oak inside and a rose garden outside, would -be cruelty; it would be to imprison a squirrel in a golden cage. What -greatly impresses the traveller in the United States is that the rich men -work as hard and as long as the poor, and that they cannot even give -attention to the affairs of their country, but are willing to leave them -to the very doubtful management of the “Boss,” because it would not pay -them to leave their business and go into politics. If the end of life be -riches, then the clever American is a successful man, for in no country -does a respectable man become so very rich, or rich so soon, and if not -respectable he still may do fairly well. You cannot have everything, -however, and one notes that the average rich man has paid a price for his -dollars. He has read very little—his wife reads for him; he has -travelled very little—his daughters travel for him. He has no voice -in the State—professional politicians speak for him; he has no -amusements, unless you include speculation; and he has no pleasant periods -of rest, unless you accept as an equivalent comparatively early and sudden -death, which often arises from acute indigestion. He has not time to stop -and realize himself, unless, but this is a large exception, when he has -dyspepsia. One reason, perhaps, why Americans do not rest is that given to -me by a bright woman: “We are all so tired,” and the American is the -victim of his own qualities. -</p> -<p> -One, of course, acknowledges the advantages of this amazing energy, and -there are times when a stolid Englishman grows envious. A university in -America is created in ten years and endowed to the extent of millions -sterling, and equipped with chairs of which a European never dreamt, and -laboratories which border upon palaces. Libraries and picture galleries -are rising in every city, for which the treasuries of Europe have been -ransacked; and, were it not for the restriction of governments, the Old -Masters would have to be sought, not in Italy and England, but in New York -and Chicago. New towns are designed upon a scale of magnificence, as if -each were to be the capital of an empire, and are at least outlined in -building within a few years. Should it be necessary, an army can be -created within a few months, and in a couple of years a new trade can be -established which will kill its European rivals. An English farmer with -fifteen hundred acres is a considerable man, but an American can have -fifteen thousand acres and his different farm buildings will be connected -by telephone. A self-made man in England marries his daughter to a baronet -and is much lifted; but the daughter of a self-made man in America will -marry an English duke, and consider she has conferred a benefit. When you -go to a Western town, you may be taken to see a university; if not, you -are taken to a dry-goods store; each, in its own way, is the largest of -its kind. Certainly, there are stores in America which have no rival in -the Old World, and which you are expected to visit with the same -appreciation as the Duomo of Florence. -</p> -<p> -There is almost nothing that the United States does not possess, except -political purity, and nothing which an American cannot do, except rest; -and in the conflict with foreign competition, he has almost discounted -victory. Whether he be able, that is, patient and thorough in the -discovery of principles, may be a question; that he is clever, by which -one means bright and ingenious in turning principles to account, is beyond -all question. If America has not yet had time to produce a Lord Kelvin, it -has given us telephones; and if Professor Dewar has astonished the world -with his liquid air, an American trust is, it is said, being formed to -handle it for commercial purposes. If we are thought to be dull and slow, -as we travel among the most stimulating and hospitable people on the face -of the earth, let some excuse be made for us and let our hosts share the -blame. An Englishman in the United States is half dazed, like one moving -amid the ceaseless din and whirling wheels of a huge manufactory, where -the voice has to be raised to a shriek, and a sentence compressed into a -single word. He goes home greatly humbled in his estimation of himself, -and in low spirits about the commercial future of his country. He has no -bitterness, however, within his heart, for are not these people of his own -blood, and are not their triumphs his, even if they threaten to outrun his -own nation in the race of productive commerce? And when he comes back to -England, has he not his compensations, Stratford-on-Avon, and Westminster -Abbey, and the greenery of the Home Counties, and the lights and shadows -of the Scots Lochs, and the musical voices of the English women, and the -quiet, contented, cultured English homes? -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -XII.—A SCOT INDEED -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>E had demanded that afternoon to be told the truth, and the doctor, -himself a young Scot, had told him plainly that he could not recover, and -then he had asked, as one man speaking to another, both being brave and -honest men, when he would die, and the doctor thought early next morning. -</p> -<p> -“Aboot daybreak,” said the Scot, with much satisfaction, as if, on the -whole, he were content to die, and much pleased it would be at the rising -of the sun. He was a characteristic type of his nation, rugged in face and -dry of manner, an old man, who had drifted somehow to this English city -and was living there alone, and now he was about to die alone, without -friends and in a strange land. The nurse was very kind to him, and her -heart went out to the quiet, self-contained man. She asked him whether he -would like to see a clergyman, and explained that the chaplain of the -infirmary was a good man. -</p> -<p> -“A've nae doubt he is,” said the Scot, “and that his meenistrations would -be verra acceptable to English fouk, but a've never had ony dealin's wi' -Episcopalians. He micht want to read a prayer, and I couldna abide that, -and mebbe I couldna follow the texts in his English tongue.” - </p> -<p> -The nurse still lingered by his bed. He looked up to her and assured her -he was in no need of consolation. “Saxty year ago my mither made me learn -the wale (choice portions) o' the Bible, and they're cornin' up ane by ane -to my memory, but I thank ye kindly.” - </p> -<p> -As the nurse went back and forward on her duties she heard her patient -saying at intervals to himself, “I know whom I have believed.” - </p> -<p> -“I am persuaded that neither life nor death.” Once again she heard him, -“Although the mountains depart and the hills be removed,” but the rest she -did not catch. -</p> -<p> -During the afternoon a lady came into the ward whose service to the Lord -was the visitation of the sick, a woman after the type of Barnabas and -Mary of Bethany. When she heard of the old man's illness and his -loneliness, whom no friend came to see or comfort, she went to his -bedside. “You are very ill,” she said, “my friend.” - </p> -<p> -“A'm deein',” he replied, with the exactness of his nation, which somewhat -fails to understand the use of graceful circumlocution and gentle phrases. -</p> -<p> -“Is there anything I can do for you? Would you wish me to sing a few -verses of a hymn? Some sick people feel much comforted and soothed by -singing; you would like, I think, to hear 'Rock of Ages,'” and she sat -down by his bedside and opened her book, while a patient beyond, who had -caught what she said, raised his head to enjoy the singing. -</p> -<p> -“Ye're verra kind, mem, and a'm muckle obleeged to ye, but a'm a Scot and -ye're English, and ye dinna understand. A' my days have I been protestin' -against the use o' human hymns in the praise o' God; a've left three kirks -on that account, and raised my testimony in public places, and noo would -ye send me into eternity wi' the sough of a hymn in my ears?” - </p> -<p> -For a moment the visitor had no reply, for in the course of all her -experiences, during which she had come across many kinds of men and women, -she had never yet chanced upon this kind of Scot. The patients in the -infirmary were not distinguished by their religious scruples, and if they -had scruples of such a kind they turned on large and full-blooded -distinctions between Protestant and Catholic, and never entered into -subtleties of doctrine. -</p> -<p> -“You'll excuse me, mem, for a'm no ungratefu',” he continued, “and I would -like to meet yir wishes when ye've been so kind to me. The doctor says I -canna live long, and it's possible that my strength may sune give way, but -a'll tell ye what a'm willin' to do.” - </p> -<p> -The visitor waited anxiously to know what service he was going to render -her and what comfort she might offer to him, but both were beyond her -guessing. -</p> -<p> -“Sae lang as a've got strength and my reason continues clear, a'm prepared -to argue with you concerning the lawfulness of using onything except the -Psalms of David in the praise of God either in public or in private.” - </p> -<p> -Dear old Scot, the heir of many a covenanting tradition and the worthy son -of covenanting martyrs, it was a strange subject of discussion for a man's -last hour, but the man who could be true to the jots and tittles of his -faith in pain of body and in face of death was the stuff out of which -heroes and saints are made. He belonged to a nation who might sometimes be -narrow and over-concerned with scruples, but which knew that a stand must -be taken somewhere, and where it took a stand was prepared to die. -</p> -<p> -The visitor was a wise as well as gracious woman, and grasped the heart of -the situation. “No, no,” she said, “we will not speak about the things -wherein we differ, and I did not know the feeling of the Scots about the -singing of the hymns. But I can understand how you love the Psalms and how -dear to you is your metrical version. Do you know I have been in the -Highlands of Scotland and have heard the Psalms sung, and the tears came -into my eyes at the sound of the grave, sweet melody, for it was the music -of a strong and pious people.” - </p> -<p> -As she spoke the hard old Scot's face began to soften, and one hand which -was lying outside the bedclothes repeated the time of a Scots Psalm tune. -He was again in the country church of his boyhood, and saw his father and -mother going into the table seats, and heard them singing: -</p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> -“O thou, my soul, bless God the Lord, -And all that in me is -Be stirred up His holy name -To magnify and bless.” - </pre> -<p> -“More than that, I know some of your psalm tunes, and I have the words in -my hymn book; perhaps I have one of the Psalms which you would like to -hear.” - </p> -<p> -“Div ye think that ye could sing the Twenty-third Psalm— -</p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> -'The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want'? -</pre> -<p> -for I would count it verra comfortin'.” - </p> -<p> -“Yes,” she said, “I can, and it will please me very much to sing it, for I -think I love that psalm more than any hymn.” - </p> -<p> -“It never runs dry,” murmured the Scot. -</p> -<p> -So she sang it from beginning to end in a low, sweet voice, slowly and -reverently, as she had heard it sung in Scotland. He joined in no word, -but ever he kept time with his hand and with his heart, while his eyes -looked into the things which were far away. -</p> -<p> -After she ceased he repeated to himself the last two lines: -</p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> -“And in God's house for evermore -My dwelling place shall be.” - </pre> -<p> -“Thank ye, thank ye,” he said, after a little pause, and then both were -silent for a few minutes, because she saw that he was in his own country, -and did not wish to bring him back by her foreign accent. -</p> -<p> -“Mem, ye've dune me the greatest kindness ony Christian could do for -anither as he stands on the banks of the Jordan.” - </p> -<p> -For a minute he was silent again, and then he said: “A'm gaein' to tell ye -somethin', and I think ye'll understand. My wife and me wes married -thirty-five years, and ilka nicht of oor married life we sang a psalm -afore we gaed to rest. She took the air and I took the bass, and we sang -the Psalms through frae beginning to end twal times. She was taken frae me -ten year ago, and the nicht afore she dee'd we sang the Twenty-third -Psalm. A've never sung the psalm since, and I didna join wi' ye when ye -sang it, for a'm waitin' to sing it wi' her new in oor Father's hoose the -momin's momin', where there'll be nae nicht nor partin' evermore.” - </p> -<p> -And this is how one Englishwoman found out that the Scot is at once the -dourest and the tenderest of men. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -XIII.—HIS CROWNING DAY -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>E will leave the main road which runs through the Glen between oak trees -which were planted fifty years ago, but are only now beginning to join -their branches, and take our way up the hillside till we come to the -purple sea of heather whose billows rise and fall, broken only here and -there by an oasis of green or a running burm. Our goal is this little -cottage which is so low that its roof merges into the hill behind, and -upon whose thatch the wild flowers have encroached. Stoop, if you please, -for it is not wise to have high doorways where the winter storm beats so -fiercely, and being respectable people, we shall be taken into the inner -room, where strangers of high degree are received and the treasures of the -family are kept. It will not take long to give an inventory of the -furniture, and the value will not run to two figures. A box bed, a small -table, four ancient chairs, what they called a chest of drawers, and on -the mantelpiece some peacocks' feathers by way of decoration, and certain -china ornaments representing animals which never have been seen in this -creation, and are never likely to emerge in any process of evolution. Were -this all, I should not have troubled you to climb so far, or to leave even -for five minutes the glory of the open moor. There is something else in -the lowly room which you might well take a journey to see, for it is a -rare sight in shepherds' cottages. Here is a bookshelf, and on it, I -declare, some dozen volumes bound in full calf, and bearing on one side -the arms of a University. You must revise your judgment of this house, and -find another measure than the height of the walls and the cubic space in -the rooms. It matters not although a house have thirty chambers, with -lofty ceilings and soft carpets and carved furniture; if there be no books -which belong to literature within its walls it is a poor and narrow home, -and the souls therein are apt to be mean and earthly. -</p> -<p> -While you are looking at the books the shepherd's wife is looking at you. -From the moment you crossed the threshold she has been thinking of that -bookshelf, and hoping you would take notice thereof, but not for the world -would she have mentioned it by word or sign. We had our own code of -manners in the Glen, and one of our cardinal sins was “blowing,” by which -we meant boasting; and while a man though perhaps not a woman, could be -forgiven for “tasting,” there was no mercy shown to the person who allowed -himself to brag. When, for instance, old David Ross's son became a -professor, his father and mother simply allowed the glorious fact to ooze -out through Domsie, who certainly had no scruple in making the most of it, -and neither the father nor mother ever said Professor in public, although -we believe they called their son nothing else between themselves; but the -Glen made up for their reticence by decorating every second sentence about -him with the word. All the same, Mistress McPherson is watching us keenly, -and she would be utterly disappointed if we had overlooked the shelf; and -now, in answer to our inquiry, she will take us into the kitchen and place -us by the fireside, that we may hear the story of her scholar son, which, -indeed, is the one romance in the history of this humble family. -</p> -<p> -One morning John left the cottage to go to school, a shepherd's boy, and -likely, as it appeared, to herd sheep and live in the Glen all the days of -his life as his father had done before him. In the evening the -schoolmaster, who is the judge of letters in the Glen, with the minister -as a court of confirmation, came up and told the father and mother that in -the purposes of the Eternal their son was evidently destined to be a -scholar, and that upon them lay the duty of seeing that John made his -calling and election sure. Had tidings come to those two people, whose -wage in money would not amount to ten shillings a week, that they were -heirs to a fortune, it would not have brought such pleasure to their souls -as the good hope that their lowly stock would once at least in a -generation produce the white flower of a scholar's life. The whole family, -father and mother, with their grown-up sons and daughters in service, will -now unite in one labour—to save and to sacrifice, that by hook or -crook their brother may reach a university, and be sustained in his study -there till he has reached its reward. Four years from that evening, had -you been standing under the great arch by which students enter the -quadrangle of Edinburgh University, you had seen the shepherd's son pass -in, plainly dressed and shy in manner, but strong of body and brave in -soul, and charged with all the knowledge that his schoolmaster and his -minister could impart by patient, ungrudging labour. The lad before him is -a noble's son, and the one following is a merchant's, and so sons of the -rich and of the poor, of the high and of the low, they go together, into -the one Republic on the face of the earth, the Republic of Letters, where -money does not count, nor rank, nor influence, nor intrigue, but where -every man stands equal and the best man wins. -</p> -<p> -Another four years and John has obtained his degree, a double first, and -he writes to the cottage on the side of the hill that the two old people -must come up to see him crowned. For six weeks before the day his mother -has just one consuming anxiety, and that is what she should wear on the -occasion, and it is only after fifteen long deliberations with her gossips -in the Glen that the great affair is settled, while the father's mind is -wholly taken up on Sundays with the effort to look as if he were not the -father of a graduate. -</p> -<p> -When the shepherd and his wife enter the gates of the University, they are -not to be thought of as two illiterate peasants who cannot distinguish -between a University and a dry-goods store. Although they had never -themselves expected to see so high a place, and had only cherished it as a -secret hope that perhaps one of their boys might attain so far, they have -learned by the tradition of their nation, and by the speech of Domsie in -the kirk-yard on Sabbath, to enter into the greatness of a university. It -is to them the home of the highest knowledge, and a sacred place to which -reverend people might well go up as a pious Moslem to Mecca or a Jew to -Jerusalem. As they cross the quadrangle, the shepherd touches his wife, -and points to an elderly gentleman in the distance. They follow him with -respectful attention as he shambles along, half a dozen books under his -arm, his shabby cloak held by a single button, a hat as old as Jamie -Soutar's resting on the back of his head. -</p> -<p> -“Keep's a', Jeems,” whispers Janet respectfully “Div ye really think that -he's a professor?” - </p> -<p> -“We canna be sure, woman; he micht juist be a scholar, but I am judgin' -that he's a professor—he hes a' the appearance.” - </p> -<p> -And the two old people stand still in the bit till he disappears, and then -they go on their way much lifted. Outside religion there is no word in -Scots speech so sacred as “professor.” It means a semi-heavenly body -charged with Latin and Greek philosophy and mathematics. It was something -to see such a man, and to be in his company was living in an atmosphere -where you might catch the infection of his learning. When a glensman, to -whom Domsie had spoken of professors with bated breath for more than a -generation, learned that in southern parts the title was assumed by -hairdressers and ventriloquists, and that they were not sent to gaol for -profanity, then Drumtochty discovered another argument for its favourite -doctrine of original sin. -</p> -<p> -As the two go down the half-lit passage to the hall of graduation, they -are met by a majestic figure—a young man in evening dress, and over -it the gown of an M.A., with its white silk hood, and on his head the -Master's cap. -</p> -<p> -“Are you coming, may I ask,” said he, with quite a nice English accent, to -the graduation ceremony, “and can I be of any service?” - </p> -<p> -“We are, sir; and as we are strangers frae the country, we would be muckle -obleeged if ye could shew us the door. We dinna want to go where the -gentry are sittin', but if ye would juist tak' us where we could see, we'd -be content and terrible pleased. There's a... friend to get his degree -to-day, and my man and me would like to see him.” - </p> -<p> -“Mither,” said the figure, “and ye dinna ken yir ain son,” for he had -taken them in well, and played his little trick with much success. They -had never seen him in evening dress, nor in his Master's robe, and the -light was as darkness; besides, he had dropped the accent of the Glen. The -father and the son laughed together joyfully at Janet, but she declared -that she had known him all the time, and put it to them if a mother could -be mistaken about her son. But she didn't know him all the same, and as -long as she lived it was a pleasant jest between them when he came north -to visit them, and she met him at the garden gate. “Well, mither,” he -would say, “div ye ken yir son the day?” - </p> -<p> -Janet was well pleased that one should tease her in after times about this -ploy of John's, for it always gave her an opportunity of describing how -handsome he looked in his black and white silk, and of stating that she. -Mistress McPherson, wife of James McPherson, shepherd at Camashach, -considered the dress of a Master of Arts the handsomest that a man could -wear. -</p> -<p> -John took his father and mother into the hall, and placed them in the -seats reserved for the friends of graduates, and while a man has various -moments of pure joy in his life, there is none sweeter than when he brings -his mother to see him crowned at the close of his university career. For -in this matter he owes everything to two people—the schoolmaster who -taught him and the mother who inspired him. -</p> -<p> -“Now, mither, you watch that door yonder, for through it the procession -will come; and when ye see the men wi' the white silk hoods, ye'll ken -that I'm there, and ye'll surely no mistake me again.” - </p> -<p> -He was so provoking, and he looked so handsome with the flush of the day -upon his cheek, that, as he stooped over her, she was about to give him a -little shove and tell him not to give “any more impi-dence to his auld -mither,” when she remembered where she was sitting, and the grand folk -round her, and so she only answered with a demure nod of intelligence. -</p> -<p> -She brought out her glasses, and the shepherd polished them carefully for -her because her hands were trembling, and for that matter he had almost to -put them on her nose, so shaken was she on this great day; and then she -watched the door, as if there was nothing else in all the hall except that -door. It seemed to her twelve hours before it opened and the procession -streamed through with many a famous man and many a coloured garment. Janet -had no eyes for the Chancellor in his purple and gold, nor for the robes -of red and the hoods of lemon silk bordered with white fur, for there was -nothing beautiful in her eyes that day except black gowns with white silk -upon them. When at last the Masters of Arts appeared, she told me -afterwards many and many a time in the Glen that they were a body of very -respectable-looking young men, but that among them all there was only one -outstanding and handsome man, and that, by a curious accident which -mothers only can explain, happened to be her son. She followed him as he -came down the passage, and was a little disappointed that he was now -carrying his trencher in his hand instead of wearing it-on his head, and -she saw him take his seat, and could hardly forgive some great lady in -front of her, whose bonnet, coming in the line of vision, prevented her -catching anything except a little bit of John's shoulder with the white -silk upon it. A little later, and she watched him rise and go forward and -kneel before the Chancellor, and then there was said over him Latin words -so magical that after they were spoken a student was changed from a common -man into a Master of Arts. We used to say in our jesting that the Latin -could not be translated, it was so mysterious and awful, but the -shepherd's wife and John's mother was an accomplished Latin scholar that -day, and she heard the Chancellor say, as distinctly as ever man spoke— -</p> -<p> -“John McPherson, you are the tallest, strongest, handsomest, ablest, -kindest-hearted son whom this University ever made Master of Arts.” That -was a free translation, but it was true in spirit, and the letter killeth. -</p> -<p> -Standing behind the Chancellor, and looking down upon the hall, I saw the -faces of the shepherd and his wife, and I knew that they would never taste -such perfect joy again till they entered through the gates into the city, -and then I longed to be lifted above all circumstances, and to have the -power of the fairy world, where you do what you please. For I should have -gone down into the hall, and held a special and unheard-of graduation -ceremony, conferring a degree of a new kind altogether upon that shepherd -and his wife, because without their unworldly ideals, and their hard -sacrifices, and their holy prayers, John McPherson had never knelt there -that day in his white silk glory, Master of Arts with the highest honours. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -XIV.—“DINNA FORGET SPURGEON” - </h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>IS varied charge was given to the good man on the morning of market day as -he brought the mare out from the stable, as he harnessed her into the -dogcart, as he packed the butter basket below the seat, as he wrestled -into his top coat, worn for ceremony's sake, and as he made the start—line -upon line and precept upon precept as he was able to receive it; but the -conclusion of the matter and its crown was ever the same, “Dinna forget -Spurgeon.” - </p> -<p> -“There's twal pund o' butter for the grocer, the best ever left this -dairy, and he maun gie a shillin,' or it's the laist Andra Davie'ill get -frae me; but begin by askin' fourteenpence, else it's eleven ye'll bring -back. He's a lad, is Andra, an' terrible grippy. -</p> -<p> -“For ony sake tak' care o' the eggs, and mind they're no turnips ye're -handlin'—it's a fair temptin' o' Providence to see the basket in yir -hands—ninepence a dozen, mind, and tell him they're new laid an' no -frae Ireland; there's a handfu' o' flowers for the wife, and a bit o' -honey for their sick laddie, but say naethin' o' that till the bargain's -made. -</p> -<p> -“The tea and sugar a've markit on a bit paper, for it's nae use bringin' a -bag o' grass-seed, as ye did fower weeks ago; an' there's ae thing mair I -micht mention, for ony sake dinna pit the paraffin oil in the same basket -wi' the loaf sugar; they may fit fine, as ye said, but otherwise they're -no gude neeburs. And, John, dinna forget Spurgeon.” - </p> -<p> -Again and again during the day, and in the midst of many practical -operations, the good wife predicted to her handmaidens what would happen, -and told them, as she had done weekly, that she had no hope. -</p> -<p> -“It's maist awfu' hoo the maister'ill gae wanderin' and dodderin' thro' -the market a' day, pricing cattle he's no gaein' tae buy, an' arguin' -aboot the rent o' farms he's no gaein' to tak', an' never gie a thocht tae -the errands till the laist meenut. -</p> -<p> -“He may bring hame some oil,” she would continue, gloomily, as if that -were the one necessity of life to which a male person might be expected to -give attention; “but ye needna expect ony tea next week”—as if there -was not a week's stock in the house—“and ye may tak' ma word for it -there'ill be nae Spurgeon's sermon for Sabbath.” - </p> -<p> -As the provident woman had written every requirement—except the oil, -which was obtained at the ironmonger's, and the Spurgeon, which was sold -at the draper's—on a sheet of paper, and pinned it on the topmost -cabbage leaf which covered the butter, the risk was not great; but that -week the discriminating prophecy of the good man's capabilities seemed to -be justified, for the oil was there, but Spurgeon could not be found. It -was not in the bottom of the dogcart, nor below the cushion, nor attached -to a piece of saddlery, nor even in the good man's trouser-pocket—all -familiar resting-places—and when it was at last extricated from the -inner pocket of his top coat—a garment with which he had no intimate -acquaintance—he received no credit, for it was pointed out with -force that to have purchased the sermon and then to have mislaid it, was -worse than forgetting it altogether. -</p> -<p> -“The Salvation of Manasseh,” read the good wife; “it would have been a -fine like business to have missed that; a'll warrant this 'ill be ane o' -his sappiest, but they're a' gude”: and then Manasseh was put in a -prominent and honourable place, behind the basket of wax flowers in the -best parlour till Sabbath. -</p> -<p> -It was the good custom in that kindly home to ask the “lads” from the -bothie into the kitchen on the Sabbath evening, who came in their best -clothes and in much confusion, sitting on the edge of chairs and refusing -to speak on any consideration. They made an admirable meal, however, and -were understood to express gratitude by an attempt at “gude nicht,” while -the foreman stated often with the weight of his authority that they were -both “extraordinar' lifted” by the tea and “awfu' ta'en up” with the -sermon. For after tea the “maister” came “but,” and having seen that every -person had a Bible, he gave out a Psalm, which was sung usually either to -Coleshill or Martyrdom—the musical taste of the household being -limited and conservative to a degree. The good man then read the chapter -mentioned on the face of the sermon, and remarked by way of friendly -introduction: -</p> -<p> -“Noo we'ill see what Mr. Spurgeon has to say the nicht.” - </p> -<p> -Perhaps the glamour of the past is on me, perhaps a lad was but a poor -judge, but it seemed to me good reading—slow, well pronounced, -reverent, charged with tenderness and pathos. No one slept or moved, and -the firelight falling on the serious faces of the stalwart men, and the -shining of the lamp on the good grey heads, as the gospel came, sentence -by sentence, to every heart, is a sacred memory, and I count that Mr. -Spurgeon would have been mightily pleased to have been in such meetings of -homely folk. -</p> -<p> -It was harvest-time, however, when Manasseh was read, and there being -extra men with us, our little gathering was held in the loft, where they -store the com which is to be threshed in the mill. It was full of wheat in -heavy, rich, ripe, golden sheaves, save a wide space in front of the -machinery, and the congregation seated themselves in a semi-circle on the -sheaves. The door through which the com is forked into the loft was open -and, with a skylight in the low dusty roof, gave us, that fine August -evening, all the light we needed. Through that wide window we could look -out on some stacks already safely built, and on fields, stretching for -miles, of grain cut and ready for the gathering and, beyond, to woods and -sloping hills towards which the sun was westering fast. That evening, I -remember, we sang -</p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> -“I to the hills will lift mine eyes.” - </pre> -<p> -and sang it to French, and it was laid on me as an honour to read -“Manasseh.” Whether the sermon is called by this name I do not know, and -whether it be one of the greatest of Mr. Spurgeon's I do not know, nor -have I a copy of it; but it was mighty unto salvation in that loft, and I -make no doubt that good grain was garnered unto eternity. There is a -passage in it when, after the mercy of God has rested on this chief -sinner, an angel flies through the length and breadth of Heaven, crying, -“Manasseh is saved, Manasseh is saved.” Up to that point the lad read, and -further he did not read. You know, because you have been told, how -insensible and careless is a schoolboy, how destitute of all sentiment and -emotion... and therefore I do not ask you to believe me. You know how dull -and stupid is a plowman, because you have been told... and therefore I do -not ask you to believe me. -</p> -<p> -It was the light which got into the lad's eyes, and the dust which choked -his voice, and it must have been for the same reasons that a plowman -passed the back of his hand across his eyes. -</p> -<p> -“Ye'ill be tired noo,” said the good man; “let me feenish the sermon,” but -the sermon is not yet finished, and never shall be, for it has been unto -life everlasting. -</p> -<p> -Who of all preachers you can mention of our day could have held such -companies save Spurgeon? What is to take their place, when the last of -those well-known sermons disappears from village shops and cottage -shelves? Is there any other gospel which will ever be so understanded of -the people, or so move human hearts as that which Spurgeon preached in the -best words of our own tongue? The good man and his wife have entered into -rest long ago, and of all that company I know not one now; but I see them -as I write, against that setting of gold, and I hear the angel's voice, -“Manasseh is saved,” and for that evening and others very sacred to my -heart I cannot forget Spurgeon. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -XV.—THEIR FULL RIGHTS -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE departure of a minister of the Scots Kirk from his congregation is, of -course, a subject of regret if he has the heart of the people, but this -regret is tempered by the satisfaction of knowing that there will be an -election. While a free-born Scot is careful to exercise his political -suffrage, he takes an even keener interest in his ecclesiastical vote, and -the whole congregation now constitutes itself into a constituency. Every -preacher is a candidate, and everything about him is criticised, from his -appearance—in one district they would not have a red-headed man; and -his dress—in another district they objected to grey trousers, up to -his voice and to his doctrine; but, of course, the keenest criticism bears -upon his doctrine, which is searched as with a microscope. As a rule there -is no desire to close the poll early, for a year's vacancy is a year's -enjoyment to the congregation giving endless opportunity for argument and -debate for strategy and party management. One congregation had been ruled -so firmly by the retiring pastor, who was a little man and therefore full -of authority, that they hardly dared to call their souls their own. -</p> -<p> -If any one ventured to disagree with this ecclesiastical Napoleon he was -ordered to the door and told to betake himself to some church where -freedom of action was allowed. This magnificent autocracy might have -emptied another church, but it secured a Scots kirk, because to tell a -Scot to go is to make, him stay. As a matter of course, no person did -leave, for that would have been giving in, and the consequence was that -the whole congregation was knit together by the iron bonds of rebellion. -</p> -<p> -When Napoleon retired the congregation smacked its lips, for now at least -every one had found his voice and could go his own way. There never was -such a vacancy known in the district. They heard thirty candidates and -rejected them all: they held a meeting every week, which lasted till -midnight, and there were six motions proposed, and no one dreamed of -agreement. It was like the emancipation of the slaves, and the whole of -Scotch cantankerousness came to a height. Every obscure law was hunted up -in order to be used against the other side, and every well-known law they -endeavoured to break. Not because they did not know the law, but because -they wanted to find out whether the presiding minister knew it. This poor -man had the duty of conducting the meetings of the congregation, and was -utterly unfitted for the position by his exceeding goodness. He was a -pious and soft-hearted man, who used to address them as “dear brethren,” - and appealed to them on the grounds of harmony and charity. “You will wish -to be at one,” he used to say, when they all really wished to be at sixes -and sevens, or, “I am sure,” he would say, “you didn't mean to oppose our -dear brother who has just spoken,” when that had been the speaker's -intention for twenty-four hours. One party was led by a tall, raw-boned -Scot, with a voice like a handsaw, who opposed everything, and the other -was really managed by the wife of one of the elders, who could be heard -giving directions <i>sotto voce</i> how to meet the handsaw. They finally -drew the wretched acting moderator to distraction, so that his head, which -was never so good as his heart, gave way, and he required six months' rest -in a hydropathic. -</p> -<p> -The Presbytery then sent down a minister of another kind, fairly equipped -in law and with no bowels of mercy; a civil, courteous, determined, -fighting man, and there was a royal evening. This minister explained that -they had held many meetings, most of which were unnecessary, and that they -had proposed fifty motions, all of which he believed were illegal. It was -his own conviction he freely stated that they knew perfectly well that -they had been wrong, and that they had simply been amusing themselves, and -he concluded by intimating that they had met for business on this -occasion, that a minister must be elected before departing, and it was his -business to see that he was elected unanimously. He stood facing the -congregation, who were now in a high state of delight, feeling that there -was going to be a real battle, and that there would be some glory in -contending with an able-bodied man, who would not speak about charity, and -say “dear brethren”—words which always excite a secret feeling of -disgust in a Scot. The minister stood up opposite the congregation, tall, -square and alert. “Will you pay attention and I'll lay down the law; if -any one breaks the law he must sit down at once, and if he does not, I -shall not allow him to vote. You can propose any candidate who is legally -qualified, and I will allow one man to propose him and another to second -him, and I will give each five minutes in which to speak to the excellence -of his candidate, and the moment any person refers to another candidate he -must stop. When the candidates have been proposed we shall take the vote, -and we shall go on voting until we settle upon the candidate who has the -majority, and we will do all this in an hour, and then we will sing a -Psalm and go home.” - </p> -<p> -During this address several stalwart fighters were seen to nod to one -another, and one went the length of slapping his leg, and already the -moderator had acquired the respect of his turbulent congregation. The -handsaw arose and proposed his candidate, and almost immediately attacked -the other party. “Sit down, sir,” said the moderator, “you're out of -order,” and after a brief stare of amazement and a measuring of the force -against him, the handsaw gave a glance around and collapsed. A candidate -was proposed from the other side, but his name was hardly mentioned before -the mover commenced to refer to the handsaw. “You are out of order,” said -the moderator; “not another word,” and, although the female leader of that -side nodded to him to go on, he thought better, and also collapsed. Then -an astute old strategist at the back, who had embroiled many a meeting, -and who was sitting with a law book in his hand, proposed that they should -delay the election until another meeting. “That motion,” said the -moderator, “I shall not receive. We have not met to delay; we have met to -vote.” Whereupon another Scot arose and stated that he had risen to a -point of order, which is always the excuse by which the proceedings can be -interrupted. “What,” he said, “I want to know is this: Is it regular to -vote when there was no notice given that the voting was to take place?” - “There was notice given,” said the moderator; “sit down in your place.” - “Can I not object?” he said. “No,” he said, “you can't.” He looked around -the meeting. “What,” he said, “is the use of being a Presbyterian if I am -not allowed to object? I might as well be an Episcopalian.” The moderator, -still standing, eyed him, and said: “Are you going to sit down or are you -not?” “Do you order me to sit down in your private or in your public -capacity?” said the recalcitrant. “As a man or as a moderator?” For -nothing delights a Scot more than to make this contrast between public and -private capacity, like the Scotch magistrate, who said, “In my public -capacity I fine you five shillings for the assault; in my private capacity -I would have done the same myself.” “As moderator,” said the minister, “I -command you to take your place.” “I consent—I consent,” said the -Scot, with infinite relish, like a man who had had a wrestling match and -had been fairly beaten, and he leant back to a friend behind, saying, -“Sall, he's a lad, the moderator,” for this is the way in which a man wins -respect from Scots. In a moment he had risen again. “Moderator,” he said, -“ye commanded me in yir official capacity to sit doon, and I obeyed, but”—and -there was a silence through the church—“I'll no sit down for that -woman,” indicating the elder's wife. “She would turn round and order me to -sit down as if I had been her husband, but, moderator,” he said, “I thank -the Almichty I'm not.” - </p> -<p> -Greatly cheered by this episode, the congregation proceeded to vote, the -leaders taking objections to different voters, which were all overruled by -the moderator, who was now going from strength to strength. And then at -last a minister was elected by a large majority. “Now,” said the -moderator, “you've had a fair fight and a year's argument, and there is -not a privilege you have not used, and you have done a thousand things you -had no right to do, and I appeal to the minority to agree with the -majority, as Scots ought to do when they have had their rights.” Whereupon -the handsaw arose and declared that he was never prouder of the Scotch -Church than he had been during the last year, and that in all his life he -had never spent a happier time. “We've had a grand argument and richt -stand up fecht, and now,” he said, “I'm willing, for masel, and I speak -for my friends, to accept the minister that's been elected, for I consider -him to be a soond preacher and vary spiritual in the exercises. The fact -is,” he added, “I would have been content with him at ony time, but it -would have been a peety to have had an immediate election and to have -missed this year. When he comes he'll have my hearty support, and I'm -willing to agree that he should have a proper stipend, and that the manse -be papered and painted and put in order for his coming.” As he sat down he -could be heard over all the church saying to himself with immense -satisfaction, “It's been a michty time, and the law's been well laid down -this nicht.” The minister gave out the Psalm— -</p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> -“How good a thing it is, and -How becoming well, -To gather such as brethren are -In unity to dwell!” - </pre> -<p> -Which was sung with immense spirit, and, after the benediction, every man -whom the minister had ordered to sit down came up and shook hands with -him, assuring him that they knew all the time that he was right, and that -they respected him for his ability. They also entreated him to come and -administer the sacrament before the new minister arrived, believing that a -man who could rule with so firm a hand would be an acceptable preacher of -the gospel. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -XVI.—AN EXPERT IN HERESY -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>VERY country has its own sports, and Scotland has golf, but golf only -satisfies the lighter side of the Scots; the graver side of the Scot finds -its exercise in the prosecution of a heretic. Nothing so delights this -theological and argumentative people as a heresy hunt, and they have no -more ill-will to a heretic than sportsmen have to a fox. It sometimes -occurs to me that they dally with cases in order that they may be -prolonged, and that the sportsmen may have a good run after the fox. I -have even dared to think that they would be willing to preserve heretics -as foxes are preserved in hunting counties in order that they might have a -good time now and again. Every one throws himself into a heresy case, from -the highest to the lowest, from the Duke in his castle to the shepherd on -the hills, from the lawyer in his office to the railway guard in his van. -They all read about it and form their opinion, and take sides and watch -the event, and the issue of the case is a national incident. From the -conflict of wits, in which the hardest heads have tried conclusions on the -deepest subjects, the people return to business shrewder than ever, more -confident and self-satisfied. -</p> -<p> -We had missed the connexion, and the North train had gone fifteen minutes -ago, and how I was to reach the station of Pitrodie that night was a -question beyond solution. The station master could give no help, and only -suggested that I might sleep at the inn and take the morning train, but in -that case I would have been too late for the funeral to which I was going. -When he heard the nature of my errand he bestirred himself with much more -zeal, for, although a Scot may not facilitate your journey for a marriage, -which he regards as an event of very doubtful utility, and associated with -little geniality, he is always ready to assist you to a funeral to which -the heart of the Scotch people goes out with pathetic interest. -</p> -<p> -“Would you mind travelling in the guard's van of a luggage train and ye -would be in fine time?” - </p> -<p> -On the contrary, I would be delighted, for I had never travelled in such -circumstances, and the guard's van would be a pleasant variety upon a -third-class carriage. -</p> -<p> -The guard received me with considerable cordiality and gave me his seat in -the van, which was decorated with pictures of kirks and eminent divines. -For a while he was engaged with various duties, shunting trucks and making -up his train, but after we had started and were out upon the line he came -and placed himself opposite. -</p> -<p> -“Now,” he said, “we've a run of twenty miles, and it's not likely we'll be -interrupted, for the rails are clear at this time of night, and we're an -express goods. I regard it,” he said, “as a providence that ye lost yer -train, for if I'd been asked what I would like this very nicht I would ha -said, 'Gie me a minister.'” - </p> -<p> -When I expressed my pleasure at his respect for the cloth, and my -willingness to be of any service to him, he waved his hand as one does who -has been misunderstood. “It's no,” he said, “releegious conversation that -I'm wantin', although I'm willing enough to have that at a time, but -there's a point in the Robertson-Smith heresy case that I would like to -have cleared up to my satisfaction.” - </p> -<p> -A tall and grey-bearded man, about fifty years of age, with a keen eye and -a shrewd face, he leant forward from his place, and, with the light of the -lamp shining on his face, he began: “Now, ye see, the first article in the -libel against Prof. Robertson-Smith has to do with the construction of the -Book of Deuteronomy,” but I will not inflict what he said, for it took ten -miles of the railway to open up his point. As we rattled along the birling -of the heavy break van was like music to words of sonorous sound—“Pentateuch,” - “Mosaic Authorship,” “Confession of Faith.” - </p> -<p> -For another ten miles we discussed the length and breadth of the eminent -Hebrew scholar's views till we reached a crisis, which happened also to be -a junction on the railway. “One minute,” he said, “and we maun stop, for -we're coming to the junction.” The point we were at was the place of the -Song of Solomon in the Old Testament. “Now, I contend,” he continued, -“that it hes to be read spiritually, and I've given three reasons. I've -three mair, but I maun shunt the trucks. I'll be back in ten minutes, and -ye'll not forget that the discussion is no closed but just adjourned, and -I've the richt to give the other three reasons before ye reply.” And then, -after the three had been given and thirty more, we parted as the day was -breaking. At Pitrodie station he crossed the platform with me, and shook -hands till my bones were almost broken. -</p> -<p> -“It's been a very edifying nicht, and I'll gie fair consideration to all -your arguments. Mind ye, I'm proud o' the Professor, for he's a michty -scholar, and I wouldna like to see him put out o' the kirk, but I'm -jalousing that he's a heretic.” I stood at a turn of the road and saw the -train pass, and my friend waved his hand to me from the back of the van, -but I could see him sadly shake his head. He was still jalousing -(suspecting) that Prof. Robertson-Smith was a heretic. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -XVII.—THE SCOT AT AN ARGUMENT -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T is difficult for one nation to perfectly understand another, and there -is a certain quality of the Scots' intellect which is apt to try the -patience of an Englishman. It is said that an Englishman was once so -exasperated by the arguing by a Scot, who took the opposite side on every -subject from the weather to politics, that at last he cried out in -despair: “You will admit at least that two and two make four,” to which -the delighted Scot replied with celerity, “I'll admit naething, but I'm -willing to argue the proposition.” It is not recorded whether the Scot -escaped alive, but it is hardly possible to believe that he was not -assaulted. You may be the most conciliatory of people, and may even be -cleansed from all positive opinions—one of those people who are said -to be agreeable because they agree with everybody; and yet a thoroughbred -Scot will in ten minutes or less have you into a tangle of prickly -arguments, and hold you at his mercy, although afterwards you cannot -remember how you were drawn from the main road into the bramble patch, and -you are sure that the only result was the destruction of your peace of -mind for an afternoon. But the Scot enjoyed himself immensely, and goes on -with keen zest to ambush some other passenger. What evil spirit of logic -has possessed this race? an English person cannot help complaining, and -why should any person find his pleasure in wordy debate? -</p> -<p> -From his side of the Tweed and of human nature the Scot is puzzled and -pained by the inconsequence and opportunism of the English mind. After a -Scot, for instance, has proved to his Southern opponent that some -institution is absolutely illogical, that it ought never to have existed, -and ought at once to be abolished, and after the Scot pursuing his -victorious way of pure reason, has almost persuaded himself that a thing -so absurd never has existed, the Englishman, who has been very much bored -by the elaborate argument, will ask with a monstrous callousness whether -the institution does not work well, and put forward with brazen effrontery -the plea that if an institution works well, it does not matter whether it -be logical or not. Then it is that a Scot will look at an Englishman in -mournful silence and wonder upon what principle he was created. -</p> -<p> -The traveller no sooner crosses the border from the genial and -irresponsible South than he finds himself in a land where a nation forms -one huge debating society, and there is a note of interrogation in the -very accent of speech. When an English tourist asked his driver what was -the reason of so many religious denominations in Scotland, and the driver, -looking down upon a village with six different kirks, answered, “Juist bad -temper, naething else,” he was indulging his cynicism and knew very well -that he was misinforming the stranger. -</p> -<p> -While it is absolutely impossible to make plain to an average Englishman -the difference between one kirk and another in Scotland, yet every one has -its own logical basis, and indeed when one considers the subtlety and -restlessness of the Scots intellect he wonders, not that there have been -so many divisions, but that there have been so few in Scots religion. By -preference a Scot discusses Theology, because it is the deepest subject -and gives him the widest sphere for his dialectic powers, but in default -of Theology he is ready to discuss anything else, from the Game Laws to -the character of Mary, Queen of Scots. He is the guardian of correct -speech and will not allow any inaccuracy to pass, and therefore you never -know when in the hurry of life you may not be caught and rebuked. When I -asked a porter in Stirling Station one afternoon at what hour the train -for Aberfoyle left I made a mistake of which I speedily repented. <i>The</i> -train for Aberfoyle—I had assumed there was only one train that -afternoon, for this beautiful but remote little place. Very good, that was -then the position I had taken up and must defend. The porter licked his -lips with anticipation of victory, for he held another view. “<i>The</i> -train for Aberfoyle,” he repeated triumphantly. “Whatna train div ye -mean?”—then severely as one exposing a hasty assumption—“there's -a train at 3.10, there's another at 3.60, there's another at 6.30” (or -some such hours). He challenged me to reply or withdraw, and his voice was -ringing with controversy. When I made an abject surrender he was not -satisfied, but pursued me and gained another victory. “Very good,” I said, -“then what train should I take?” He was now regarding me with something -like contempt, an adversary whom it was hardly worth fighting with. That -depended on circumstances he did not know and purposes which I had not -told him. He could only pity me. “How can I tell,” he said, “what train ye -should go by, ye can go by ony train that suits ye, but yir luggage, being -booked through, will travel by the 3.10.” During our conversation my -portmanteau which I had placed under his charge was twice removed from its -barrow in the shifting of the luggage, and as my friend watched its goings -(without interfering) he relaxed from his intellectual severity and -allowed himself a jest suitable to my capacity. “That's a lively -portmanteau o' yours. I'm judging that if ye set it on the road it would -go Aberfoyle itsel'.” When we parted on a basis of free silver he still -implied a reproach, “so ye did conclude to go by the 3.10, but” (showing -how poor were my reasoning faculties even after I had used them) “ye would -have been as soon by the 3.50.” For a sustained and satisfying bout of -argument one must visit a Scot in his home and have an evening to spare. -Was it not Carlyle's father who wrote to Tom that a man had come to the -village with a fine ability for argument, and that he only wished his son -were with them and then he would set Tom on one side of the table and this -man on the other place, and “a proposeetion” between them, and hear them -argue for the night? But one may get pleasant glimpses of the national -sport on railway journeys and by the roadside. A farmer came into the -carriage one summer afternoon, as I was travelling through Ayrshire, who -had been attending market and had evidently dined. He had attended to the -lighter affairs of life in the sale of stock and the buying of a reaping -machine, and now he was ready for the more serious business of theological -discussion. He examined me curiously but did not judge me worthy, and -after one or two remarks on the weather with which I hastened to agree, he -fell into a regretful silence as of one losing his time. Next station a -minister entered, and the moment my fellow-passenger saw the white tie his -eyes glistened, and in about three minutes they were actively engaged, the -farmer and the Minister, discussing the doctrine of justification. The -Minister, as in duty bound, took the side of justification by faith, and -the farmer, simply I suppose to make debate and certainly with a noble -disregard of personal interests—for he had evidently dined—took -the side of works. Perhaps it may seem as if it was an unequal match -between the Minister and the farmer, since the one was a professional -scholar and the other a rustic amateur. But the difference was not so -great as a stranger might imagine, for if a minister be as it were a -theological specialist every man in Scotland is a general practitioner. -And if the latter had his own difficulties in pronouncing words he was -always right in the text he intended. They conducted their controversy -with much ability till we came to the farmer's station, and then he left -still arguing, and with my last glimpse of that admirable Scot he was -steadying himself against a post at the extremity of the platform, and -this was his final fling: “I grant ye Paul and the Romans, but I take my -stand on James.” Wonderful country where the farmers, even after they have -dined, take to theology as a pastime. What could that man not have done -before he dined. -</p> -<p> -In earlier days, the far back days of youth, I knew a rustic whose square -and thick-set figure was a picture of his sturdy and indomitable mind. He -was slow of speech and slow also of mind, but what he knew he held with -the grip of a vice and he would yield nothing in conversation. If you said -it was raining (when it might be pouring) he would reply that it was -showery. If you declared a field of com to be fine he said that he had -seen “waur” (worse), and if you praised a sermon he granted that it wasna -bad; and in referring to a minister distinguished throughout the land for -his saintliness he volunteered the judgment that there was “naething -positively veecious in him.” Many a time did I try, sometimes to browbeat -him, and sometimes to beguile him into a positive statement and to get him -to take up a position from which he could not withdraw. I was always -beaten, and yet once I was within an ace of success. We had bought a horse -on the strength of a good character from a dealer, and were learning the -vanity of speech in all horse transactions, for there was nothing that -beast did not do of the things no horse ought to do, and one morning after -it had tried to get at James with its hind legs, and then tried to bring -him down with its fore legs, had done its best to bite him, and also -manoeuvred to crush him against a wall, I hazarded the suggestion that our -new purchase was a vicious brute. He caught the note of assurance in my -voice, and saw that he had been trapped; he cast an almost pathetic look -at me as if I was inviting him to deny his national character and betray a -historic part of unbroken resistance. He hesitated and looked for a way of -escape while he skilfully warded off another attack, this time with the -teeth, and his face brightened. “Na!” he replied, “I'll no admit that the -horse is veecious, we maun hae more experience o' him afore we can pass -sic a judgment, but”—and now he just escaped a playful tap from the -horse's fore-leg—“I'm prepared to admit that this momin' he is a wee -thingie liteegious.” And so victory was snatched from my hand, and I was -again worsted. -</p> -<p> -If the endless arguing of the Scot be wearisome to strangers and one would -guess is a burden to himself, yet it has its advantages. It has been a -discipline for the Scots mind, and the endless disputations on doctrine -and kirks as well as more trifling matters like history and politics has -toughened the Scots brain and brought it to a fine edge. When I hear a -successful Scot speak lightly of the Shorter Catechism, then I am amazed -and tempted to despise him, for it was by that means that he was sent -forth so acute and enterprising a man, and any fortune he has made he owes -to its training. He has been trained to think and to reason, to separate -what is true from what is false, to use the principles of speech and test -the subtlest meaning of words, and therefore, if he be in business, he is -a banker by preference, because that is the science of commerce, and if he -be an artizan, he becomes an engineer because that is the most skilful -trade, and as a doctor he is spread all over the world. Wherever hard -thinking and a determined will tell in the world's work this self-reliant -and uncompromising man is sure to succeed, and if his mind has not the -geniality and flexibility of the English, if it secretly hates the English -principle of compromise, and suspects the English standard of commonsense, -if it be too unbending and even unreasonably logical, this only proves -that no one nation, not even the Scots, can possess the whole earth. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -XVIII.—UPON THE LECTURE PLATFORM -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HERE are four places where a man may lecture, exclusive of the open air, -which is reserved for political demonstrations and religious meetings, and -I arrange the four in order of demerit. The worst is, beyond question, a -church, because ecclesiastical architects have no regard for acoustics, -and a lecturer is apt to crack his voice yelling into the corners of -churches. -</p> -<p> -People come to a church, also, in a chastened mood, and sit as if they -were listening to a sermon, so that the unhappy lecturer receives little -encouragement of applause or laughter, and, if he happens to be himself a -clergyman, is hindered from doing anything to enliven the audience. -Besides, the minister of the church will feel it his duty to introduce the -leading members of his congregation after the lecture, and a reception of -this kind in the vestry is the last straw on a weary lecturer's back. He -cannot, however, refuse because he is a fellow professional, and knows -that his discourtesy may be set to the debit of the minister. Next in -badness is a public hall, because it is so bare and cheerless, and on -account of its size is difficult to fill with an audience, and still more -difficult with the voice. Drill halls, especially, are heart-breaking -places, because they are constructed for the voices of commanding officers -shouting “right wheel,” “march,” “fire,” and such like martial -exhortations. -</p> -<p> -There is also another objection to halls from the lecturer's standpoint, -and that is the accessibility of the platform. Usually there are two sets -of steps, which the audience consider have been constructed in order that -they may come on the platform in a body and shake hands with the lecturer. -If a lecturer be a human being, he is always glad to see two or three of -his fellow-creatures, especially if they say something encouraging, but -just because he is a human being and has spoken for an hour and a half, he -is apt to lose heart when he sees half of his large audience, say seven -hundred people, processing in his direction. -</p> -<p> -It is on such an occasion that he is full of gratitude to a manager who -will come in with his travelling coat and march the lecturer out at the -back door, as a man in haste to catch his train or on any other pretence. -</p> -<p> -A lecturer may count himself fortunate, and need have no anxiety about -circumstances, who speaks from the stage of a theatre, because he will -have his whole audience within convenient compass, and focussed upon him, -and although he comes down to a whisper he will still be heard. When you -lecture at a theatre you are known as the “star,” and as you cross the -dark and mysterious under-world behind the stage you hear some one crying: -“This way to the star's room,” which generally turns out to be the room of -the leading actress, where you may spend a quarter of an hour in seeing -yourself in the innumerable mirrors, and examining the long array of -toilet instruments on the table. -</p> -<p> -Theatrical people are most sympathetic and good-natured, and although they -may not have the faintest idea who you are or what you are going to do, -they always wish you well, and congratulate you if there is a good house. -Their own house may not have been good last night, but they are glad if -yours is good to-day. -</p> -<p> -The crowning advantage of a theatre to a nervous and hard-wrought lecturer -is its seclusion. You get in and out by the stage door, and there is not -one person in a hundred of your audience could find that door, and if he -did he would not get admittance. From the floor to the stage there is no -way, and when you pass behind the curtain you are beyond reach even of an -interviewer. -</p> -<p> -When I become an impresario I shall never allow my “star” to be seen, -except on the platform, and after he has done his work I will remove him -swiftly in a closed conveyance. In this way I shall lay him under a debt -of gratitude, and keep him in good humour, and get out of him a third more -work. As I have no idea of entering on this business at present, I offer -the hint to all impresarios everywhere, with my respectful compliments. -</p> -<p> -If a lecturer could always choose—which practically he never can do -at all—he would prefer to lecture to a club of men and women in -their club-room, or in the large drawing-room of a private house. He will -then address a limited number of bright people who are at their best; he -can talk as at a dinner-table and make his point easily; he can venture on -an aside, or stop to tell an anecdote, and after an hour or so he will be -as little fatigued as when he began. When the lecture is over he mixes -with his audience and in a minute is a private individual. This is the -very refinement and luxury of lecturing, which a lecturer enjoys only on -rare occasions. -</p> -<p> -Local arrangements differ very much, and some of them are rather trying to -a lecturer. There are places where a regular procession is formed and -marches to the platform, headed by a local dignitary, and made up of -clergymen, magistrates, little millionaires, and public characters of all -kinds and degrees. In midst thereof the lecturer marches like a criminal -being taken to the scaffold. -</p> -<p> -Once I discovered in the ante-room a magnificent embroidered robe, and the -insane idea took possession of my mind that it was intended for the -lecturer. Had it been put upon me there would have been no lecture, for I -should have been smothered with its greatness and its grandeur. I was -still regarding it with horror and perspiring freely when the chief -magistrate of the city came in, and it was put on his shoulders by two -liveried servants, who then decorated us all, from the chief magistrate -down to myself, with flowers. The servants marched first into the hall, -the great man followed, and I crept, following behind his majestic figure -(which was received with frantic howls of applause), and this was the -grandest entry I ever made upon the lecture platform. -</p> -<p> -In some places there is a chairman—I shall have something to say -about chairmen—and votes of thanks, first to the lecturer, then to -the chairman and to other people who have had some connexion or other with -the matter, till a third of the time is taken up by local talk and the -lecturer is put to confusion. -</p> -<p> -For votes of thanks I have personally an intense dislike, because the -movers refer to one in terms which might suitably apply to William -Shakespeare (one enthusiastic admirer preferred me to Shakespeare, -because, although he classed us together as occupying a solitary position, -I had the advantage of being more sentimental). As a lecturer on Scots -subjects I have a horror of other speakers, because they feel it necessary -to tell Scots stories without knowing the dialect, and generally without -knowing the story. -</p> -<p> -Certain places are very business-like in their arrangements, and the -smartest in this respect is, curious to say, not in America, but in -England. You are brought to the place of operation five minutes before the -hour, and at two minutes to eight placed upon the platform. When the hand -of the clock points to eight you begin to speak, and when the hand stands -at nine you close. If you are one minute late in beginning, the audience -grows restless, and if you are five minutes late in closing, they leave. -There are no preliminaries and no after-talk, and you do your best with -one of the most intelligent audiences any lecturer could address in sixty -minutes. -</p> -<p> -The most risky audience in my experience is afforded by the free lectures -given in an English city, which is made up by men who have dropped in from -the streets because the hall is open and because something is going on. If -they are interested they will listen eagerly and reward the lecturer with -enthusiastic applause, besides giving an irrelevant cheer occasionally for -Old Ireland or Lord Roberts. If the audience is not interested they leave -in solid blocks of fifty, without any regard to the lecturer's feelings, -or the disturbance of their neighbours. -</p> -<p> -The most sympathetic and encouraging audience a man can have are the -students of an American ladies' college, because if he is nervous, as an -Englishman is bound to be before three hundred bright American young -women, they will catch his first point, and they will smile upon him and -show that they believe there is something in him if he could only get it -out, and create such a kindly atmosphere that he will rise to his height -and do his best. -</p> -<p> -This was how the students of a delightful college not very far from -Philadelphia treated myself when I was almost ready to sink through the -floor from sheer terror of facing so many young women, being a sisterless -and daughterless man, and I wish to thank one young lady who sat in the -front and smiled encouragement upon me until I lifted up my head and took -heart. -</p> -<p> -I have never utterly collapsed, and have never fled from the platform, but -I was reduced to confusion and incoherence of speech when I opened a -clubhouse for a company of women students at a certain American -University, and my whole audience suddenly flopped down upon the floor as -I began my little speech. As the floor had a beautiful carpet and there -were no chairs, the young ladies no doubt did well for themselves, but as -I looked down upon that fair flower-garden all my thoughts vanished, and I -do not think that I uttered a grammatical sentence. -</p> -<p> -American young women do not know that an Englishman is the most bashful -creature on the face of the earth, and that he would rather face an -audience of two thousand men from the streets than address twenty young -women, every one as sharp as a needle and as pretty as a flower. -</p> -<p> -My experience of chairmen is wide and varied, and I have lectured under -the Presidency of some very distinguished and able men, but on the whole I -would rather be without a chairman. There was one who introduced me in a -single sentence of five minutes' length, in which he stated that as he -would treasure every word I said more than pure gold he did not wish to -curtail my time by a single minute. He then fell fast asleep, and I had -the honour of wakening him at the close of the lecture. Had he slept -anywhere else I should not have had the smallest objection, but his -restful attitude in the high estate of the chair had an unedifying and -discomposing effect on the audience. -</p> -<p> -On the whole, I preferred that chairman to another who introduced me to -the extent of twenty-five minutes, and occupied the time in commending to -the exasperated audience the claims of a foundling asylum with which he -had some charitable connexion. This time it was the lecturer who fell -asleep and had to be wakened when the audience drove the chairman to his -seat. -</p> -<p> -A lecturer is also much refreshed amid his labour by the assurance of the -chairman that he has simply lived upon his books for years, and has been -looking forward to this evening for the last three months with high -expectation, when after these flattering remarks he does not know your -name, and can only put it before the audience after a hurried consultation -with the secretary of the lecture course. -</p> -<p> -My memory returns also with delight to a chairman who insisted that one -object had brought them together, and that I was no stranger in that town -because the whole audience before him were my friends, and then having -called me Doctor Maclaren and Ian Watson, besides having hinted more than -once at Mr. Barrie, introduced me to an uproarious audience as Mr. Ian -John Maclaren Watson. -</p> -<p> -It is, of course, my gain, and the loss of two more distinguished -fellow-countrymen, that I should be hopelessly associated in the minds of -many people with Mr. Crockett and Mr. Barrie. But when one speaker -declared that I would be remembered by grateful posterity as the Stickit -Minister, I was inclined to protest, for whatever have been my defects as -a preacher, I still have succeeded in obtaining a church; and when another -speaker explained he had gone three times to see my “Little Minister,” I -felt obliged to deny myself the authorship of that delightful play. -</p> -<p> -Allusions on the part of the audience, when they shook hands with me -afterwards, I allowed to paas because there was not time to put things -right; merely smiling at the mention of “A Window in Thrums,” and looking -modest at the adjectives heaped upon “The Raiders.” My cynical humour was -greatly tickled with the chairman, who had been very cordial with me in -private, and who was understood by the public to have been closely -identified with my visit to his city, when he not only escaped from the -stage after he had introduced me, but also immediately left the theatre -and cheerfully betook himself to his office without hearing one word of -the lecture. Perhaps he had discovered from some casual remark of mine -that I was not Mr. Barrie, and was at a loss to make out who I could be. -</p> -<p> -With mayors and other public functionaries who have to speak six times a -day on six different subjects, and who get a little confused as to which -meeting they are attending, I have the utmost sympathy, and never have -been discomposed by any reference to the management of hospitals or the -fallacy of bimetallism, even though the references were very indifferently -connected with the lecturer and his subjects. -</p> -<p> -The labour of shaking hands afterwards with a considerable proportion of -your audience is not only lightened by their kindness, but also much -cheered by their conversation. After a few evenings in the United States I -arrived at the rooted conviction that the majority of the American people -belonged to the Scots race, and that America was the real Scotland. It was -not only that native-born Scots came forward to welcome a -fellow-countryman with an accent which was beyond all dispute and could be -heard six yards off, and with allusions to Auchterarder which warmed your -heart, but that every person seemed to be connected with Scotland. -</p> -<p> -One belonged to a family which had emigrated from Scotland in the -seventeenth century, and was anxious to know whether I could give him any -information on the family tree. Another had married a Scots wife, and -believed he owed his prosperity to her; a third was an admirer of Sir -Walter Scott, and looked forward to visiting Scotland as the ambition of -his life. And one lady, full of despair as she heard the Scots claims of -the people around her, came and confessed frankly: “I am not Scots, and I -have no relative a Scot, and none of our family married a Scot, but my -sister has a Scots nurse: will that do?” I assured her it would, and that -I was glad at last to meet a genuine American, because I had come to see -the American people. -</p> -<p> -I have a vivid recollection of one place where a clan had turned out to -receive me, and I was escorted to the platform by a band of plaided -warriors, who, headed by a piper, marched me in and ranged themselves -round me on the platform. When the lecture was over, one clansman met me -in the anteroom, and I hardly recognized him; he was about three inches -taller and six inches bigger round the chest than before the lecture, and -was as a man intoxicated, though not with strong drink. -</p> -<p> -“Mr. Maclaren,” he said to me, “eh, but we are a michty people,” and he -slapped his chest vigorously. I hinted that we had one or two faults to -modify our perfection, but he was not in a mood for such consideration. -“No worth mentioning,” he said, and departed in glory. The national prayer -of our people is understood to be: “Lord, give us a good conceit of -ourselves,” and this prayer in my compatriot's case had been wonderfully -fulfilled. -</p> -<p> -Audiences vary very much in excellence, and it is difficult to understand -the reason, because you may have the most delightful and the most -difficult from the same class of people. Audiences are like horses—some -of them so hard in the mouth and spiritless that they almost pull your arm -out of the socket, and others so bright and high-spirited that you hardly -feel the reins in your hands, and driving—that is to say, speaking—is -a delight. -</p> -<p> -The ideal audience is not one which accompanies you from beginning to end -with applause and laughter, but one that takes every point and enjoys it -with intelligent reserve, so that your illustrations may be condensed into -allusions, and a word conveys your humour. One of my pleasures as a -lecturer was to test every audience by a certain passage which divided the -sheep from the goats, and I think my enjoyment was even greater when they -were all goats. -</p> -<p> -It came into a reading from the <i>Briar-Bush</i> where the word -“intoxication” occurs. My custom was to stop and apologise for the -appearance of such a word in my book, and to explain that the word is not -known in Scots speech. There are, I used to say, two reasons why a -Scotsman does not employ the word. The first is that he is imperfectly -acquainted with the painful circumstances to which this word is supposed -to allude, and the second that a Scotsman considers that no one with a -limited human intellect can know enough about the conditions of his -fellow-creatures to make such a statement. -</p> -<p> -When an audience took in the situation at once, then one could rest for a -moment, since they required that time to appreciate the rigid temperance -and conscientious literary accuracy of the Scotch people. When they took -the statement in perfect seriousness, and one or two solemn reformers -nodded their heads in high approval, then I wanted to go behind the -curtain and shake hands with myself. More than once it was with difficulty -I could continue in face of this unbroken seriousness, and once I broke -down utterly, although I hope the audience only supposed I was laughing at -some poor humour of my own. -</p> -<p> -The cause of my collapse was not the faces of the audience, but the -conduct of a brother Scot, whose head went down below the seat as he -learned the two reasons why the word intoxicated is not used in Scotland. -When he emerged from the depths he cast a glance of delight in my -direction as to one who was true in all circumstances of his nation, and -then he was composing himself to listen with fresh confidence to a -lecturer who had given such pledges of patriotism, when he caught sight of -the faces of the audience. -</p> -<p> -As it dawned upon him that the audience had taken the statement literally, -he was again obliged to go into retirement. Twice he made a brave effort -to regain possession of himself, but as often the sight of the audience -shook him to his foundation. At last he rose and left the theatre, but at -the door he lingered to take one look at the unconscious audience, and -then shaking his head in my direction with patriotic joy, he departed from -the building, and I was obliged to imagine an execution in order to -continue my lecture. -</p> -<p> -The lecturer's nerves ought to be made of wire, for he never knows what -may happen. There is one town in the United States where the express -trains run down the main street, and you lecture there to an accompaniment -of engine bells and the blowing-off of steam. When the music rises too -high for the human voice, the lecturer in that town ought to abandon the -contest and offer between the whistles a few remarks on the legislative -power of American railways. These remarks will be vastly enjoyed by the -audience. -</p> -<p> -Behind the platform of one large hall is the lift of the next building, -which is used at regular intervals of a minute, and you have your -sentences punctuated by the whoop of the unseen lift till at last you can -calculate the time and know that you have spoken ninety whoops, and it is -nearly time to stop. -</p> -<p> -One night I was arrested by the sound of steady snoring which could be -heard over the larger part of the theatre, but although every one was in -search for the offender, he could not be found. At last the sound was -traced to the stage, and, as there was no one on the stage except myself, -to be behind the curtain. One of the servants of the theatre had laid -himself down there in order to enjoy the lecture, and that had proved of -such a solid character that he had fallen into a fit of meditation, from -which he was very rudely awakened. -</p> -<p> -One evening in a Canadian town a fox terrier came in, and owing to some -difference of opinion with a gentleman in the stalls, expressed himself in -public. As there was to be a dog story in the lecture, I thought it well -to explain that the terrier had been engaged to take part, but had broken -in too soon. For a while the dog behaved with much propriety, and then -there was a second outbreak. -</p> -<p> -Six gentlemen combined to get that dog out of the theatre, but not without -difficulty and danger. The terrier retired fighting. -</p> -<p> -The platform does many good things for a lecturer; for one thing, it -strengthens his voice; it brings him into contact with large bodies of his -fellow-men, and it inspires him with humanity. Upon the platform he learns -to command himself; to take disappointments like a man; and, above all, he -gains a new conviction of the kindness and goodwill of large bodies of -people whom he has never seen before and may never see again, and of whom -he will ever think with a grateful heart. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -XIX.—FOR THE SAKE OF A HORSE -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N the days of long ago I used to live in the summer-time upon a farm in -one of the rich plains of Scotland, where the soil was deep and we could -grow everything, from the fragrant red clover to the strong, upstanding -wheat. One reason why our farm bore such abundant crops was its situation; -for it lay, in the shape of the letter V, between two rivers which met -upon our ground. One of the rivers was broad and shallow, and its clear -water ran over gravel, brawling and fretting when it came upon a large -stone, and making here and there a pleasant little fall. This river in the -winter-time could rise high and run with a strong current, and there were -days and sometimes weeks when we could not send our men and horses across -its ford. We never hated this river, because, although it could be angry -and proud when the snow was melting on the distant hill or a big -thunder-cloud burst in the glens above us, it was never treacherous and -sullen; it had no unexpected depths into which a man and horse might fall, -but was open as the day, and its water was as bright. Wherefore I have -kindly thoughts of that stream, and when the sun is hot in the city, and -there is no unused air to breathe, I wish I were again upon its banks and -could see it gleaming underneath the bushes as it sings its way past my -feet. -</p> -<p> -The other river was narrow, and ran in silence between its banks; or -rather it did not run, but trailed itself along like a serpent, deep, -black, and smooth. There was no end to its wicked cunning, for it -pretended to be only three feet deep and it was twelve, and sometimes it -hollowed out to itself a hole where a twenty-foot line would not touch the -bottom. One of its worst tricks was to undermine the bank so that the -green turf on which you stood became a trap, and, yielding beneath your -feet, unless you were very dexterous, shot you into the river. Then unless -you could swim, the river would drown you in its black water as if with -fiendish delight. -</p> -<p> -Over this river, also, we required to have a ford; but in this case it was -not natural, for the bottom of this river was far below the surface of the -water, and it was soft, deep clay. Across the river, therefore, the ford -had to be built up with stones; and it was made in the shape of a -horseshoe, so that any one crossing must follow a rough half-circle from -bank to bank, and he had to keep to the line of the ford, for below it the -water poured into a depth of thirty feet. When the river was low one could -easily trace the ford, and there was no excuse for getting into danger; -but if the river had been fed by the upland rains, then every sign of the -ford was lost, and a man had to be very careful how he picked his horse's -way. And all the time the wicked water would be bringing its weight to -bear on him, in the hope of carrying him and his horse and everything else -that was with him over the edge. -</p> -<p> -This river we loathed, and at the thought of its wickedness and its -tragedies—for twice I nearly lost my life in it—I still -shudder, here in my study. -</p> -<p> -One afternoon I went down to the ford in order to warn a plowman that he -must not cross. That morning he had taken a load of grain to the railway-, -station, and now he was coming back with the empty cart and two horses. -During the day there had been rain upon the mountains, and the river was -swollen so that every sign of the ford was lost. -</p> -<p> -I stood high up upon the bank, and when he came down the road on the other -side I shouted across the river—which was rising every minute—that -he must not on any account attempt it, but must turn back and go round by -the bridge. Of course he ought to have obeyed this order, and I am not -going to say that he was wise in what he did; but safety would mean a -détour of ten miles, and he knew not fear. It was from his breed that our -Highland regiment got their recruits and more than one of our men had gone -into the “Black Watch.” - </p> -<p> -“I'll risk it,” he cried from the other side; and he made his preparations -for the daring enterprise, while I, on my side, could say and do nothing -more. All that remained for me was to watch, and, if it were possible, in -case of things coming to the worst, to give such help as I could from the -bank. -</p> -<p> -It was a heavy two-wheeled cart he had, with one horse in the shafts and -another before, tandem-wise, and this kind of team could not be driven -from the cart. The driver must walk, holding the reins of the tandem horse -in his right hand, and, if necessary, guiding the horse in the shafts with -his left; and so they entered the stream. -</p> -<p> -After the horses had gone a few yards into the water they wished to stop; -for they had an instinct of danger, all the more because they were not -free, but were strapped and chained, so that it would be almost impossible -for them to save their lives by swimming. Jock chided and encouraged them, -calling them by name, and they went in without any more hesitation; for -horses are full of faith, and trust their driver absolutely if they know -his voice and love him. Each of our men had a pair of horses under his -charge; and so close was the tie between the men and their horses that the -pair would come to their driver in the field when he called them by name, -and would allow another plowman to handle them only under protest. -</p> -<p> -Very carefully did Jock guide his team round the farther bend of the -horseshoe, but when they reached the middle of the stream the water -reached his waist and was lapping round his chest. Of course he could not -have stood had it not been that he was on the upper side, and had the -support of the shaft, to which he clung, still holding the reins of the -foremost horse and the bridle of the other. -</p> -<p> -“Take care, Jock! for any sake, take care, man!” I yelled from my bank. It -was poor advice, but one had to say something as he looked on the man and -the horses, more than half covered by the stream, so lonely and helpless. -“You are at the turn now”; for we knew that the bend of the shoe was at -the middle of the stream. -</p> -<p> -“It's a' richt,” came back the brave, honest voice. “We'll win through”; -and now Jock turned the leader's head up-stream, and the cart began to -move round on the nearer turn of the horseshoe. Yes, they would win -through, for surely the worst was past, and I jumped upon the bank for -very joy, but ever watched the slightest movement, while every inch seemed -a mile and every moment an hour. -</p> -<p> -Alas! there was no end to the deceit and wickedness of that river; for, -owing to some slight bend at a little distance higher up on the opposite -bank, the current ran with its main strength, not in the middle of the -channel, but toward the place where I was standing, and into a black deep -just at my feet. It beat upon the cart, and as I looked I could see the -cart begin to yield, and to be carried sidewise off the track of the ford. -I shouted—I know not what now; I think the plowman's name—but -Jock already had felt himself going with the cart as it turned round. He -called upon his horses: “Pull up, Star! Steady, lass!”—this to the -mare in his hand. -</p> -<p> -The intelligent creatures answered to his voice and made a valiant effort, -Star plunging forward, and the mare—a wise old beast—straining -herself to recover the cart. For an instant the cart's further wheel was -pulled on to the track, and I saw the cart once more level in the water; -and again I shouted, calling both man and horses by their names. Then the -river, afraid that she was to be spoiled of her prey, put out all her -strength. The cart yields and sinks on the lower side and begins to turn -over. It is off the ford now, and will pull the horses after it, and all -that can be done is for Jock to let go the horses, who are now struggling -in desperation, and to save his own life. He could swim, and was a -powerful man, forty inches and more round the chest, and a fellow, if you -please, to toss the hammer on a summer evening. -</p> -<p> -“For God's sake, let go the horses, Jock, and make for the bank!” And I -went to the edge where he was likely to come, and lying down upon my -chest, I twisted one arm round a sturdy bush, and was ready with the other -hand to catch Jock if he should be fighting his way through the current -and come within reach of shore. -</p> -<p> -By this time the horse in the shaft was fighting on the edge of the abyss, -and only the top of one side-board of the cart could be seen, and the -upper shaft, which was standing straight out of the water. Star was -screaming with terror—and a horse's scream is a fearful sound—for -if only he could be free of the two chains that fastened him to the shaft, -he, a powerful young horse, would soon reach safety where the road came -out from the ford through the banks, up the slope, to dry land. And Jock, -forgetful of himself, was determined to give Star his chance for life—Star, -whom he had broken in as a colt, and taught to take an oatmeal cake out of -his pocket, of whom he boasted in the markets, and for whom he had bought -little brass ornaments to wear on his forehead and chest. The mare was -beyond redemption, and must perish with the cart; she was old, and had -done her work. But Star must not be drowned. Already he has loosened the -near chain and on one side Star is free, and now, in the midst of that -wild hurly-burly of plunging horses, Jock, holding on to the projecting -shaft with one hand, is reaching with the other underneath the neck of the -mare, to free the other chain from the farther shaft. -</p> -<p> -He succeeded, as I took it, at the very last moment; for Star, now on the -brink, made a desperate effort, and, shaking himself free of all -entanglement, swam into the quieter water, just above where I had hoped to -meet his driver. -</p> -<p> -In another minute Star was standing on the road, shaking in every limb, -and hanging his head between his fore legs, with all the strength and -bravery taken out of him. -</p> -<p> -Before he reached the bank, the cart and the mare, and poor Jock with -them, had been swept over the edge of the unseen ford into the deep water -below. Had Jock been free of the cart and horse he might have made some -fight for his life, even in that caldron; but, from the marks upon his -body, we judged that he had been struck, just when he loosed the chain, by -the iron hoofs of the mare in her agony, and had been rendered -unconscious. -</p> -<p> -Within a second, horse and cart and man had disappeared, and the cruel -river had triumphed and was satisfied. -</p> -<p> -Three days afterward we rescued his body from her grasp; and when we -carried it up to the bothy where he and his mates had lived together, the -roughest of them felt that this man had been a hero. -</p> -<p> -No doubt he ought not to have dared so much; but having dared, he did not -flinch. His duty was that of every driver—to stick to the last by -his horses—and he did it to the uttermost. -</p> -<p> -He was a rough man, Jock, who never read anything except the stories in -the weekly newspaper which used to circulate in the bothies. There were -times when Jock took a glass too much on a fair-day at Muirtown, and then -he was inclined to fight. His language, also, was not suited for polite -society, and his temper was not always under perfect control. -</p> -<p> -Let me say it plainly: Jock was nothing but a Scots plowman, and all he -did that day was to save the life, not of a child or of a man, but of a -cart-horse worth about £50. It was, however, his bit of duty as Jock -understood it; all he had to give was his life, and he gave it without -hesitation and without fear. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -XX.—NO RELEVANT OBJECTION -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>EXT to the election of a minister nothing stirred the parish of Thomgreen -like an election of elders, and it may be truthfully said that the people -were far more concerned about the men whom they appointed to this sacred -office than about the man whom they sent to represent them in Parliament. -The people had also a keen sense of the kind of man who was fit to be an -elder, and there was many a farmer whom they would have cheerfully elected -to any board, and in whose hands they would have trusted any amount of -money, but whom they would never have dreamt of making an elder. Persons -who were by no means careful about their own life, and one would not have -supposed had any great concern about the character of the officers of the -Christian Church, had yet a fixed idea, and a very sound one, about the -qualifications for an elder; and if one of themselves had been proposed -would have regarded the idea as an insult, not to them but to the Church. -“Me an elder,” he would have said; “for ony sake be quiet; there maun be -nae jokin' on sich subjects. When you and me are made elders the kirk had -better be closed.” For the word elder was synonymous in Thorngreen, and, -indeed, in every right-thinking parish, not only with morality and -integrity, but with gravity and spirituality. -</p> -<p> -No parish could expect to have many men who filled the conditions, and -Thorngreen had a standing grievance that one man who was evidently an -elder by arrangement of providence would not accept the office. Andrew -Harris, of Rochally, as he was commonly called, after the name of his -farm, was of ancient Thorngreen blood, since his forbears had worked land -in the parish for many generations, and he himself had succeeded his -father, who was also an elder for thirty years. There was no sounder -farmer than Rochally, and what he had done by draining, limeing, and -skilful seeding was known unto all men; no straighter man in a bargain, -for the character of a young horse from Rochally was better than a written -document; no friendlier man in the kirkyard on a Sunday or at Muirtown -markets, and no more regular and attentive hearer in kirk. Beyond all -that, the parish knew, although it never said such things, that Rochally -was a religious man, who not only had worship in his house, with his men -servants and his women servants present, but also worshipped God in all -Christian living from year to year. He was also a man of substance, and if -that could be got with other things, the parish preferred it in an elder, -and he gave liberally to the Free Kirk, of which, indeed, he was the -mainstay. If he was not married, and was never likely now to marry, it -could not be helped, but there was nothing else wanting to make him the -perfect model of an elder. -</p> -<p> -As regularly as there was a meeting for the election of elders, which -happened about every five years, the name of Mr. Andrew Harris, farmer of -Rochally, was proposed and seconded, and about to be placed on the -nomination form, when Rochally himself rose, and quietly but very firmly -requested that his name be dropped, “for reasons which are sufficient to -my own conscience.” And although three ministers in succession, and a -generation of elders, had pleaded privately with Rochally, and had used -every kind of argument, they could not move him from his position. His -nomination was felt on each occasion to be a debt due to his character and -to the spiritual judgment of the congregation; but the people had long ago -despaired of his consent. Had they consulted his wishes they would never -have mentioned his name; but, at any rate, he made a point of attending, -and at once withdrawing. They were obstinate, and he was obstinate, and -the event had become a custom at the election of elders in the Free Kirk. -</p> -<p> -No one could even guess why Rochally refused office, and every one in the -Free Kirk was a little sore that the best and most respected member on -their roll should sit in his back seat Sunday after Sunday, and attend -every week meeting, and give the largest subscriptions, and also gamer the -utmost respect from without, and yet not be an elder. It was also felt -that if his name could only be printed on the nomination paper and placed -before the people, and the people unanimously elected him, as they would -do, then it would be hard for him to refuse, and if he did refuse he would -have to do what he had not done yet—give his reasons. If they could -only hold the meeting without his being present, or if, by any innocent -ruse, he could be kept from the meeting, then half the battle would be -won; and that is how it came to pass that the minister and elders of -Thomgreen Free Kirk stole a march upon Rochally. They had been thinking -for some time of adding to the eldership, for Essendy, the father of the -Session, had “won awa'” at eighty-seven, and Wester Mains could only sit -on sunny days in the garden; and while they were turning the matter over -in their minds—for nothing was done hurriedly in Thomgreen—it -spread abroad that Rochally was going away for the unprecedented period of -four weeks, partly to visit a sister's son who had risen to high position -in England, and partly to try some baths for the mild rheumatism which was -his only illness. It seemed a providential arrangement, and one which they -must use wisely, and if anything could have been read on the severe -countenances of Thomgreen, Rochally might have guessed that some -conspiracy was afoot when he bade his brethren good-bye after Kirk one -Sabbath. -</p> -<p> -As soon as it was known that he had fairly departed, and as it was -perfectly certain there could be no communication with him from his home -except a weekly report of the briefest and most prosaic kind by the -foreman, the Session (that is, the Court of Elders) was called together, -and on two successive Sundays the people were summoned to a meeting for -the nomination of elders. It was held on the Monday following the second -Sunday, and was attended by almost the whole congregation. Six names were -proposed for three vacancies, but, of course, the climax of the -proceedings was the nomination of Mr. Andrew Harris, farmer at Rochally, -and the insertion of his name on the paper of nomination. The nomination -papers were given out on the following Sunday, and on the fourth and last -Sunday of Rochally's absence were returned into the hands of the Session. -Before he came home the Session had met, and as every single communicant, -without exception, had voted for Mr. Andrew Harris, farmer at Rochally, -the Session declared him elected, and when he sat in his pew on the -following Sunday he heard the edict for the ordination of three elders on -that day fortnight, and the first name was his own. -</p> -<p> -It was creditable to the good manners of the people that though they held -their breath at the critical moment, none of them looked even sideways to -the pew where Rochally sat alone; but the minister's eye fell on him from -the pulpit, and as he noticed Rochally start and flush, and grow pale, -while a look of pain came over his face, the minister became anxious, and -began to regret their well-intentioned plot. And when, according to the -custom of the kirk, he announced that the aforesaid persons would be -ordained this day fortnight, unless “some valid objection to their life -and doctrine be stated to the Kirk Session at a meeting to be held for -that purpose before the service on Wednesday evening,” and when, even at -that distance, he could see Rochally's hand tighten upon the door of his -pew and his head fall forward upon his breast for an instant, as if he -were in pain, he almost wished that they had not meddled with the secret -affairs of a man's life. The minister was not surprised when Rochally did -not call at the manse on Monday or Tuesday to say that he could not accept -the election, although that was within his power, and he was not -surprised, although much grieved, when he saw Rochally standing in the -shadow of the trees not far from the vestry where the Kirk Session met. -Although he had not the faintest idea of the reason, he was now afraid of -what was going to happen, and the elders, as they came in one by one, -having passed Rochally, who stood apart among the trees, and gave no sign -of recognition, were uneasy, and had a sense of calamity. They knew -nothing either, and were not able even to imagine anything; but they also, -having seen Rochally and caught a faint glimpse of his face, would fain -have burned the nomination papers, and cancelled the whole election. -</p> -<p> -The court was opened with prayer, in which the minister was very earnest -that they should be all guided by the Spirit of God and know His will. And -then the minutes were read, wherein the names of those elected were -mentioned, after which the minister declared the time had arrived for -receiving objections to the life and doctrine of the aforesaid persons, -and the beadle, being summoned from the dark kirk where he had been -sitting, was commanded to do his duty. Thereupon, having opened the outer -door of the vestry, as being a public place, he looked into the darkness, -and called upon any persons who could make valid objection to the life or -doctrine of Andrew Harris, farmer at Rochally, that he should not be -ordained an elder, to come forward and declare the same. Many a time had -the beadle made this challenge, and never before had it been answered, but -now, out from the darkness, came Rochally himself, and entered the vestry. -For a moment he was dazzled by the light of the lamp, though it was never -very bright, and as he stood before the Session he passed his hand over -his face. Then he stepped forward to the table, and, leaning heavily on it -with one hand, Rochally unveiled his secret. -</p> -<p> -“Moderator and Elders of the Kirk, I stand here in answer to your -commandment, and in obedience to my own conscience, to give you strong -reasons why Andrew Harris should never be ordained an elder in Christ's -Kirk, and why he is not worthy even to take the sacrament. -</p> -<p> -“I ken well that my brethren have often wondered why I wouldna allow my -name to be mentioned for the eldership, and I have often feared that they -judged me as one who despised the call of the kirk, and wouldna put his -hand to the plough. If they did so, they were wrang, for God knows how I -have honoured and loved the Church, and He knows how glad and proud a man -I would have been to carry the vessels of the Lord. But I dauma, I dauma. -</p> -<p> -“It micht have been better if I had told the reason years ago, and saved -mysel' and the brethren much trouble; but it is hard for the Scots heart -to open itsel', and a man is jealous of his secret.' Maybe I sinned in not -confessing to the kirk in this place as I did elsewhere, and as I -confessed to my God. Gin it be so, I have suffered, and now the Lord's -hand is heavy upon me. -</p> -<p> -“Lang years ago,” and the strong man trembled, but no elder so much as -lifted his eyes, “I lived for a year, although none here will mind of it, -in another parish, where my father had a farm, and there, when I was a -young man, though no one here knows of it, being careless in my walk and -conversation, and resisting the Grace of God, I fell, and sinned against -the law of Moses and of Christ. -</p> -<p> -“What the sin was it matters not now; but it was a great sin, such as -nothing but the blude o' Christ can cleanse away, and the guilt of it was -heavy upon my soul. God was merciful unto me, and His Spirit moved me to -that repentance which needeth not to be repented of. Sic reparation as I -could make I made, and them that were injured I satisfied; but I have -never been satisfied. They're all dead now that had to do with it, long -before they died they had forgotten it; but I have never forgotten it, and -the long years have never wiped it from my memory. -</p> -<p> -“There's ae man I envy every day, and mair the nicht than ever; no the man -who is rich and powerful, na, na, it is the man whose life is clean and -white fra his boyhood until this hour, who can turn over the pages and let -every man look on. One chapter o' my life I read alone every day, and it -canna be blotted out from before my eyes. Their hands maun be dean which -bear the vessels of the Lord, and my hands arena clean; wherefore I take -objection, being a true witness against the life of Andrew Harris, and -declare he is not fit to be an elder of the kirk.” - </p> -<p> -While Rochally was still standing, the minister knelt down, and the elders -with him; but Rochally stood, and the minister began to pray. First of -all, he confessed the sins of their youth and of later years till every -man's soul lay bare before his own eyes and the eyes of God, then he -carried them all, their lives and their sins, unto the Cross of Calvary, -and magnified before God the sacrifice for sin and the dying love of the -Saviour, and then he lifted up their souls in supplication unto God upon -His Throne, and besought the Judge of all, for Christ's sake, to cast -their transgressions behind His back and into the depths of the sea; and, -finally, he besought God to grant unto them all the assurance of His mercy -and the peace which passeth all understanding to possess their hearts and -minds in Christ Jesus. But he made no mention of Rochally or Rochally's -sin, so that one would have supposed it was the minister and the elders, -and not Andrew Harris, who were at the Bar. -</p> -<p> -When they rose from their knees more than one elder was weeping, and every -man's face was white and serious, and still Rochally stood as if he -desired to go, but was not able till the minister gave the decision of the -court. The Spirit of the Holy Ministry, which is the most awful office -upon earth, and the most solemn, descended in special measure upon the -minister, a man still young and inexperienced, but who was now coming out -from the holy place of the Most High. -</p> -<p> -“Andrew Harris, I ask you, in the name of the Kirk whom the Lord loved and -washed from her sins in His own blood, lovest thou the Lord Jesus Christ?” - Then the minister and the elders faded from before Rochally's eyes, and -the faithful, honest man who had sinned so long ago, and wept so bitterly, -stood face to face with the Master. -</p> -<p> -“Lord,” said he, for the first time lifting up his head, “Thou knowest all -things; Thou knowest that I love Thee.” - </p> -<p> -It was after midnight when the minister wrote out the minute of that -meeting, and it states that an objection was taken to the life of Andrew -Harris; but the Session ruled that it was not relevant, in which ruling -the objector acquiesced, and the Session therefore appointed that Andrew -Harris, farmer at Rochally, be ordained on the day appointed to the office -of elder in the Free Kirk of Thomgreen. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -XXI.—WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN Carmichael was Free Kirk minister of Dramtochty, and in the days of -his youth, he had casual ways, and went at his own free will. He never -came across the moor behind his manse on a summer day, and entered the -cool pine wood which separated it from the ploughed land, without sitting -down beside a certain pool of a burn which ran through the fringe of the -wood. Because the water broke over a little rock and then gathered in a -cup of gravel, and there was a heather bank where he could he as -comfortably as in his favourite study chair, which had seen the Rebellion, -but had changed its covering as well as its creed more than once since -then; because the Highland cattle came to drink at that pool if you were -not fussy and suspicious; and because all the sounds of the moor—the -bleating of the sheep, the cry of the grouse, and the wail of the whaup -and the drone of the bees—mingled in one music, and fell pleasantly -upon your ear. “For five minutes only,” he said to himself, and then some -Highland cows, with their absurd little calves, arrived, and would have -considered it ill-mannered for him to rise; and he fell a-thinking while -time flew. He rose with a start and hurried down to the main road, and -made for the bridge over the Tochty, fearful lest he should be too late -when the messenger came with momentous tidings from the telegraph office -at Kildrummie. -</p> -<p> -For two years the Glen had been in the most delightful state of -intellectual ferment, and it was freely said by those who could remember -that conversation had not risen to such a high level for fifty years, not -even during '43. It goes without saying that the subject which exercised -the minds and tongues of the Glen had to do, not with markets, but with -Kirks; and while many had feared that the golden age of the Disruption -would never be repeated in Drumtochty, when children were taught the -doctrine of spiritual independence as they were supping their porridge, -and women spoke freely about the principle of “Coordinate Jurisdiction -with Mutual Subordination” as they hoed turnips in the fields, even Jamie -Soutar was compelled to allow that the present debate had points of -excellence altogether its own. While the spirit of disruption had -wonderfully sharpened the edge of the intellect, the new spirit of concord -which was abroad had still more powerfully quickened the feelings of the -heart. By the fireside, where the guidwife darned the stockings and the -guidman read the <i>Muirtown Advertiser</i> from the first word of the -advertisements to the last word of the printer's name, out at work where -they were planting potatoes or reaping the com, on the way to market as -they walked down to Kildrummie station on Friday morning or crammed -themselves by fives and sixes into Hillocks' dog-cart, but most of all in -the kirkyard or at the Free Kirk door, men and women had been discussing -with unswerving honesty and amazing subtlety, but with great goodwill and -eager longing, how the differences between the Free Kirk and the -Established could be reconciled, and upon what terms of honour and -self-respect they could be united so that there should be again one Kirk -in Scotland, as in the former days. According to the light which -Providence had been pleased to give to other parishes, which was as -twilight to the sunlight of Drum-tochty, they also argued this great -affair, till even Kildrummie had pronounced ideas on the subject; and -Rabbi Saunderson, the minister of Kilbogie, had announced a course of -twenty-five sermons on the “Principle of Unity in the Christian Church, -considered biblically, theologically, historically, and experimentally.” - The ecclesiastics on both sides had not regarded the movement with -conspicuous favour, and, while stating that the end in view was not only -admirable but one they had always desired, they felt it their duty to -point out difficulties. They mentioned so many, indeed, and expounded them -so faithfully, that it would not have been wonderful if the people had -lost heart and abandoned a hopeless enterprise; for as a rule it had been -the ecclesiastics who spoke and the people who kept silence; the -ecclesiastics who passed measures and the people who paid for them. This -time, however, the younger ministers had taken the matter into their own -hands, and refused to serve themselves heirs to past controversies or to -bind themselves to perpetuate ancient divisions; they were men of another -age, and intended to face the new situation. There had been enough -dividing in Scotland since the days of the Covenanters; it was time there -should be some uniting, and when they were at it they wanted -thorough-going and final union. And the people, who in every country -parish had, Sabbath after Sabbath for more than a generation, passed one -another in opposite directions going to their kirks, began to inquire why -they should not all go in one direction and meet under one roof as their -fathers had done; and when people began to ask that question, both with -their heads and with their hearts, it was bound to be answered in one way. -</p> -<p> -The ecclesiastics had yielded under pressure, and as Carmichael went down -to the bridge he recalled, with a keen sense of humour, their marvellous -proceedings and the masterly game which had been played by the -diplomatists of the Kirks, their suave expressions of brotherly love, -their shrewd foresight of every move, their sleepless watchfulness of one -another, their adroit concessions which yielded nothing, their childlike -proposals which would have gained everything, and their cheerful -acquiescence in every delay. But the temper of the people was not to be -trifled with, and if the young party among the clergy were not skilled in -the wiles of Church Courts, they had considerable vigour of speech, and -the managers of affairs were given to understand that they must bring -things quickly to a head. Early last spring the leader of the Free Kirk -had submitted his terms, which the Established Kirk men studied together -for three days and then read in seven different ways, and they in turn -submitted their proposals, which were so simple and direct that the great -Free Kirk man was genuinely disappointed, and wished that it had been his -lot to negotiate with a Roman cardinal. But the people were getting -impatient, and when the Assemblies met in the end of May, the pleasant -spring-time, the terms had been adjusted, and Carmichael ran over them as -he came down the near road through Hillocks' farm and pronounced them -good. That the Free Church and the Established should unite together; that -its legal title should be the Church of Scotland; that it should retain -the ancient endowments and all the accumulated funds of both the former -Churches; that the newly-constituted Church of Scotland should cease its -legal connexion with the State, but maintain the old parochial system; -that the new Church should re-arrange its resources so as to meet every -religious and moral want in Scotland, and work with the State for the -well-being of the Scots Commonwealth. The motions were proposed about the -same time in the two Assemblies, in speeches worthy of the occasion: in -the Established Kirk by a Scots noble; in the Free Kirk by the ablest -ecclesiastical statesman of his day; Carmichael was thankful that he was -in the Free Kirk Assembly when the motion was carried, with tears and -cheers, none objecting, and that he was in time, with a fearful struggle, -to get his head within the door of the Tolbooth, when the ministers and -elders of the Established Kirk stood up as one man at the bidding of their -moderator, and before Her Majesty's Lord High Commissioner, and declared -for union; and thankful that he was one of the crowd that poured out of -both Assemblies in the High Street of Edinburgh and heard the bells of St. -Giles, which had been the witness of many a fierce conflict, ringing out -the news of peace and concord through the grey capital of the nation. -</p> -<p> -There was still one risk to be run and one barrier to be surmounted, for -the concordat of the Church required the sanction of Parliament. Through -the summer days the battle had been fought in the lobbies and committee -rooms of the House of Commons, and that afternoon it was to be decided; -and up to the last there was a chance that the bill might be thrown out, -and the heart's desire of Scotland once more refused at Westminster. For -there were cross-currents which no man could calculate; there were stiff -old Tories who hated the idea of the Church being disestablished; keen -Radicals who were determined that the Church should be also disendowed; -Episcopalians who were eager that the title of the Church of Scotland -should be left open to be claimed by that respectable, though limited, -dissenting community, which traces its descent through Archbishop Sharpe -and John Graham of Claverhouse; and a balance of men who disliked all -Churches equally, and were always ready to hinder religion, when they -could get an opportunity. If the bill were thrown out it would be a sad -calamity, and Lord Kilspindie had promised to telegraph to Dr. Davidson -the moment the bill passed the Commons; for it had been taken first in the -Lords (and carried with a brisk fight), and Carmichael proposed to meet -the messenger at Tochty bridge, and escort him to the manse. -</p> -<p> -It did not, however, surprise Carmichael to find the minister of the -parish of Drumtochty walking to and fro on the level ground from which the -wonderful arch of the ancient bridge sprang, and talking affably with -Hillocks on the prospects of harvest, but keeping all the time a watchful -eye on the distant point on the other side of the Glen where the road -emerged from the pine woods and the Kildrummie messenger would first be -seen. -</p> -<p> -“Glad to see you, Carmichael,” said the doctor, with just the faintest -suggestion of excitement in his manner; “I left a message at the manse -that if you called they were to send you down to the bridge, but I rather -suspected you would be here. For myself, I frankly confess I could neither -sit nor read, so I just turned out to wait for the messenger. It's a -historical day, Carmichael, charged with great issues for Scotland.” - </p> -<p> -They climbed the stiff ascent, and stood on the arch through which the -Tochty ran, clear and sparkling, that summer evening. -</p> -<p> -“More than a century of Scots history has run since this bridge was built, -some of it sad enough; but, please God, we shall see good days before they -build the new bridge. What hinders the messenger? Kilspindie expected to -telegraph by five at latest, and now it's six o'clock.” The doctor snuffed -uneasily and wiped his eye-glasses. “I wish I had gone down to Kildrummie. -What's that, Carmichael, on the crest of the hill? Your eyes are quicker -than mine.” - </p> -<p> -“It's a man on horseback, and we'll soon know who he is, for he's riding -hard. I should recognize that horse. Why, it's Macfarlane's chestnut that -brings me up from the station in forty minutes and something to spare, and -Macfarlane's riding her himself. If the old chap hasn't saddled a horse -and ridden up to bring us the news post-haste! Isn't he going! He would -never come that speed if it were bad news. They've let it out at the post -office, as sure as we're standing here; and, look, Macfarlane has seen us. -He's waving his hat, doctor; the bill has passed, and the Kirks are one.” - They went down the other side of the bridge, and Carmichael did not look -at Dr. Davidson, for the doctor's stately step was broken, and he was -again polishing his eyeglasses. The chestnut was covered with dust, and so -was Macfarlane, and the mare herself seemed to be triumphant when -Macfarlane reined her in on the other side of the bridge. -</p> -<p> -“Half expeckit to see you here, gentlemen,” for even Macfarlane, dealer in -horses, in coals, in manure, and hirer of carriages, was discomposed. -“Message came in at 6.48; had the mare ready; left at 6.60; done the three -miles in thirteen and a half minutes”—all this in one breath; then, -jumping off his horse and taking off his hat, “A telegram for you, Dr. -Davidson.” - </p> -<p> -He patted the chestnut on the neck for her good going, and tried to look -as if he did not know what was in the envelope. Dr. Davidson handed the -envelope to Carmichael, who understood the reason, and, stripping it off, -handed him the message. -</p> -<p> -“Quiet, lass, quiet!” said Macfarlane. Carmichael straightened himself, -and raised his hand to that weather-beaten soft hat of his, which was the -scandal of the Presbytery; the doctor unfolded the paper with a shaking -hand, a flush passed over his face, the tears—which already were in -his eyes—broke and rolled down his face, and he read out with a -trembling voice—“Bill carried by a majority of two hundred and -thirty-three. God bless the Kirk of Scotland, one again and for ever!—Kilspindie.” - </p> -<p> -“Hip, hip, hurrah!” Carmichael was very young, but Macfarlane might have -known better, who was waving his cap with one hand and holding the dancing -mare with the other; while Hillocks was a spectacle of glory, standing on -the summit of the bridge and throwing in a hoarse shout. Dr. Davidson took -no part in the cheer, for he had turned aside and was looking to the hill -where the Parish Kirk peeped out from the trees, and there were many -thoughts in his mind. -</p> -<p> -“Dr. Davidson,” said Carmichael, still holding his hat in his hand, and -tuning his voice to affectionate respect, “you are minister this day unto -every man in the parish of Drumtochty, and you will add to all your past -kindnesses by letting me be your faithful assistant.” - </p> -<p> -The old man took Carmichael's hand in both his own, but for once he could -find no words. -</p> -<p> -“Ye saw them gang oot, doctor, and ye'll see them come back,” said -Hillocks, descending from the top of the bridge. -</p> -<p> -“I honoured them when they went out,” replied the doctor, finding speech -again, “and I love them coming back to their old Kirk.” It was agreed -between Carmichael and the doctor that half an hour from that time the -bells of the two kirks should be rung, and though neither bell dominated -more than the distance of three fields, Dr. Davidson declared that the -Free Church bell was distinctly audible in the kirkyard; while a group of -Free Kirk men gathered round their door remarked to one another that they -had never noticed before how sweet was the sound of the Old Kirk bell. And -they were speaking true, for the bells were ringing in their hearts. While -Parliament had been deliberating on the bill, the two Kirks had been -making their arrangements in faith for the uniting of congregations, and -it had already been determined that Dr. Davidson and Carmichael should be -joint ministers of the parish of Drumtochty, and that the congregations -should worship in the Parish Kirk. When there was a will in Drumtochty -there was always a way, and arrangements were quickly made that the parish -should gather again on the following Sabbath into the kirk where their -fathers had worshipped, and round which the dust of generations lay. At -eleven o'clock the Free Church congregation met for the last time as a -separate flock, in the building which they had erected with great -sacrifice, and which was sanctified by many sacred memories; and then, -after Carmichael had conducted a short service, and Donald Menzies, one of -the elders, had offered up a prayer of thanksgiving wherein he carried the -congregation with him to the Mercy Seat, and moved even the stiffest, they -sang the second Paraphrase, “O God of Bethel! by whose hand,” and -Carmichael pronounced the benediction, with more than one pause between -the words. Then they went out through the door by which, more than a -generation ago, the congregation had entered, obeying their conscience, -and testifying for the freedom of Christ's Kirk. Without any marshalling -or vain ceremony they fell into a procession, and this was the order in -which they went. First came Carmichael in his gown and bands, his M.A. -hood and college cap, carrying in his hand his mother's Bible, and beside -him Bumbrae, Donald Menzies, Lauchlan Campbell, and the other elders, all -dressed as for the Sacrament. Behind them followed the choir, and then the -people as they pleased, family by family, parents and children together. -Thrice on the road they broke into singing, and these were the Psalms they -sang—the xcviii.— -</p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> -“O sing a new song to the Lord, -For wonders He hath done: -His right hand and His holy arm -Him victory hath won”; -</pre> -<p> -and the lxxxiv.— -</p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> -“How lovely is Thy dwelling-place, -O Lord of hosts, to me! -The tabernacles of Thy grace -How pleasant, Lord, they be!” - </pre> -<p> -and the cxxxiii.— -</p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> -“Behold, how good a thing it is, -And how becoming well, -Together such as brethren are -In unity to dwell!” - </pre> -<p> -They began to sing this Psalm as they were ascending the height on which -the Parish Kirk stood, and when they reached the top of the hill the sound -of the Psalm was still in the air. Then Carmichael and the elders beheld a -heartening spectacle. Dr. Davidson and, his people had also met for -worship in their kirk, and, being told by a swift messenger that their -brethren were at hand, they had come out through the kirkyard and ranged -themselves in two rows along the roadside; while in the centre of the high -road, and in front of his people, stood the parish minister, with his -ruling elder, Drum-sheugh, by his side. The two ministers faced one -another, and the people stood perfectly still; the glorious sunshine -poured down upon their heads, and on either side the fields were golden -unto the harvest. Clear but tender was Dr. Davidson's voice. “Reverend and -dearly-beloved brother, I greet you, your elders, and your congregation in -the name of the Lord, and, as senior minister of this parish, I bid you -welcome to the Kirk of Drumtochty.” - </p> -<p> -And then Carmichael—“Reverend and honoured father in the Gospel of -our Lord Jesus Christ, my people and I thank God that there is now one -congregation in Drumtochty, and that you are our minister.” - </p> -<p> -Drumsheugh grasped Bumbrae's hand, but what passed between those two -worthy men no one heard, and then Dr. Davidson and Carmichael headed the -united procession, with the elders behind them; and as they moved down the -sideway between the hedges, the Old Kirk folk fell in with the Free Kirk, -so that they passed through the kirkyard one united company, and as they -went they sang the Psalm cxxii.— -</p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> -“I joy'd when to the house of God, -Go up, they said to me. -Jerusalem, within thy gates -Our feet shall standing be.” - </pre> -<p> -And by a happy coincidence they were singing the last words as the -ministers and elders went in through the door— -</p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> -“Now, for my friends' and brethren's sakes, -Peace be in thee, I'll say. -And for the house of God our Lord, -I'll seek thy good alway.” - </pre> -<p> -It had been arranged between them, who were indeed as father and son, that -Dr. Davidson should take the service and Carmichael should preach the -sermon, and when the people were all seated, neither Established nor Free -now, but all Scots Kirk men with one heart, one faith, one love, Dr. -Davidson gave out another of the glorious Psalms, whose ancient traditions -and wealth of spiritual emotion had served the people so well that day. -</p> -<p> -“Let us worship God this day, and sing unto the praise of His glorious -name Psalm cxxvi.” - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> -“When Sion's bondage God turn'd back, -As men that dream'd were we.” - </pre> -<p> -But he was not able to read further, and the congregation, who understood, -and whose own hearts were full, broke into the singing; and at the noise -thereof Carmichael awoke, for it was only a dream. -</p> -<p> -“What might have been,” he said to himself, with wistful regret, as he -descended the hill, and then his heart lifted, “and, please God, what is -going to be before my day is done.” - </p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -XXII.—THE VISION OF THE SOUL -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HERE were many modest homes in the Glen, but the humblest of them all was -that of Bell Robb, where she lived with Jean, her sister, and blind -Marjorie. It had only one room, and that had only one window. A tall man -could stand upright only in the centre, and the hearth was so near the top -of the chimney that it was a fight in the winter time between the fire and -the snow, and the snow used to win the battle before morning. There was a -box bed at the back of the room where Bell and Jean slept, and the -lowliest of little beds just below the window had been Marjorie's home -night and day for many a long year, because she had not only been blind -from her birth, but since middle age had also been paralyzed. There was a -table and two chairs, and a dresser on which the humble stock of crockery -was carefully displayed. From above the fireplace the humblest of oil -lamps, called a cruizie, projected, but the cottage had two brass -candlesticks which were never used, but were polished like unto fine gold -and were the glory of the home. -</p> -<p> -If providence had been unkind to any person in the Glen it was to -Marjorie, for her birth had been a tragedy, and the helpless child, blind -and feeble, had been flung upon the world. She had never known father or -mother, she had never seen the primroses in the Tochty woods when spring -made her first visit, nor the purple of the heather in autumn time, nor -the golden com in the field before her door, nor the sunshine upon the -Burn down below. She had no kinsfolk to take charge of her, she had no -claim upon any one except the poor law authorities, and had she been bom -into a parish like Kilbogie the workhouse had been her only asylum. But it -was a kindly little world into which this poor waif and stray had come—a -world which had not many words nor much money, whose ways were curious and -whose manner was austere, but whose heart was big and warm. Drumtochty had -its laws of public policy which Government itself was never able to -over-ride, which every man and woman in the Glen set themselves to -enforce. And one was that no native of the Glen should ever be sent to the -coldness and bondage of a workhouse; that however poor he might be and -however long he lived, he must be kept in the shelter of our pine woods -where he could see the Tochty run. As a matter of fact, this was not so -great a burden on the neighbours, for Drumtochty folk had a rooted -objection, which not even the modern spirit creeping up into the Glen -could overcome, against being paupers or depending on any person save on -themselves and God. Drumtochty had no pity for wastrels and very little -sympathy with shiftless people, but Marjorie, poor Marjorie, she had the -spirit to work—we judged she had about the highest spirit in the -Glen—but what could she do without sight and with her trembling -hands? So the Glen adopted Marjorie, and declared in wayside talk and many -a kirkyard conference that she had given them more than they had ever -given to her. -</p> -<p> -Bell Robb and Jean, her sister, earned their living by hoeing turnips, -lifting potatoes, binding at harvest and gathering the stones off the -field—which were ever coming up to the surface in our poor thin soil—and -they made between them on an average from January to December nearly -twelve shillings a week. They declared that being two solitary women -providence had intended they should have Marjorie, and now for thirty -years she had been with them, and they spent upon her twice as much as -they received in grants from the parish inspector, and declared with -brazen effrontery that they were making a little fortune out of her. They -also gave sixpence a month to the sustentation fund of the Free Kirk, and -a shilling at a great collection, and if there was any little presentation -in the Glen they had a shilling for that also. How they did those things -was only known to God. Their faces were lined by labour and burned brown -by the sun, but they looked well in the light of the Sacrament, for they -were partakers of the Lord's Cross; their hands were rough and hard with -field labour, but very gentle and kindly when they waited upon Marjorie. -And when Marjorie began to relate the catalogue of her blessings, she -always put next to her Saviour Bell and her sister Jean. The two sisters -have had their humble funeral years ago, and their tired bodies with -Marjorie's body of humiliation were laid to rest in the old kirkyard, and -theirs was then the reward of Him who said, “I was a stranger and ye took -me in.” Drumsheugh, returning from Muirtown market one afternoon by road, -dropped in to pass the time o' day with Marjorie—leaving half a -pound of tea upon the dresser—and was arrested by the humility of -her bed. He was overheard saying “Sall” to himself as he returned to the -main road with the tone of a man who had come to a resolution, and next -Friday he drove up from Muirtown with a small iron bedstead, arranged in -parts over his dogcart, while he sat with dignity upon the mattress. The -installation of Marjorie into her new couch was the event of her life, and -for weeks the Glen dropped in, partly to see Drumsheugh's amazing gift, -but chiefly to hear Marjorie on his unparalleled kindness and its -unparalleled splendour. She had felt it over inch by inch, and knew the -pattern to a turn, but she was chiefly concerned that her visitors should -observe and rightly appreciate the brass knobs at the four corners. -</p> -<p> -“Drumsheugh micht have got an ordinary bed for half the money, but -naething wud sateesfy him but brass knobs. Ye may say that I canna see -them, but I can feel them, and I ken that they're there, and the -neighbours see them, and to think o't that I'm lying here like a queen on -a spring bed with four brass knobs. And me that has no claim on Drumsheugh -or ony other body, juist crowned wi' loving kindness. I'll need to ask -grace to be kept humble.” - </p> -<p> -According to Marjorie indeed her whole life had been arranged on the -principle of Drumsheugh's giving: instead of iron she had received brass, -yea, much fine gold, and all things had worked together for her good. When -her minister Carmichael forgot himself one day and pitied her for her -afflictions she was amazed, and had to remind herself that he had only -come to the Glen. For was it not her helplessness that had won her so much -love, so that from high Glen Urtarch down to the borders of Kilbogie every -man, woman and child was her friend, dropping in to see her, bringing her -all the news, and making her so many little presents that she was “fair -ashamed”? And she reminded John Carmichael that if she, Marjorie, had been -an able-bodied woman, he would not have paid her so many visits, nor told -her so many “bonny stories.” - </p> -<p> -“Mr. Carmichael, I'll have much to answer for, for I've been greatly -blessed. I judge masel' the maist priveeleged woman in Drumtochty.” And -then Carmichael, who had his own troubles and discontentments, used to go -away a wiser and a better man. -</p> -<p> -Marjorie saw the hand of an all,-wise and all-loving Providence in the -arrangements of her home. For one thing it faced south, and she got the -warmth and the shining of the sun through her little window, and there was -an advantage in the door opening straight from the garden into the room, -for the scent of the flowers came in to her bed, and she knew when the -wallflowers had begun to bloom and when the first rosebud above the -doorway had opened. She would have liked very well to have gone to the -Kirk with a goodly company, but lying alone on her bed through the hours -of service she had time for prayer, and I have heard her declare that the -time was too short for her petitions. “For, ye see, I have sae mony -friends to remember, and my plan is to begin at the top of the Glen and -tak' them family by family till I come to the end of the parish. And wud -ye believe it, I judge that it takes me four complete days to bring a' the -fowk I love before the Throne of Grace.” - </p> -<p> -As for her darkness of earthly sight, this, she insisted, was the chief -good which God had bestowed upon her, and she made out her case with the -ingenuity of a faithful and contented heart. -</p> -<p> -“If I dinna see”—and she spoke as if this was a matter of doubt and -she were making a concession for argument's sake—“there's naebody in -the Glen can hear like me. There's no a footstep of a Drum-tochty man -comes to the door but I ken his name, and there's no a voice oot on the -road that I canna tell. The birds sing sweeter to me than to onybody else, -and I can hear them cheeping to one another in the bushes before they go -to sleep. And the flowers smell sweeter to me—the roses and the -carnations and the bonny moss rose—and I judge that the oatcake and -milk taste the richer because I dinna see them. Na, na, ye're no to think -that I've been ill treated by my God, for if He didna give me ae thing, He -gave me mony things instead. -</p> -<p> -“And mind ye, it's no as if I'd seen once and lost my sight; that micht -ha' been a trial, and my faith micht have failed. I've lost naething; my -life has been all getting.” - </p> -<p> -And she said confidentially one day to her elder, Donald Menzies— -</p> -<p> -“There's a mercy waitin' for me that'll crown a' His goodness, and I'm -feared when I think o't, for I'm no worthy.” - </p> -<p> -“What iss that that you will be meaning, Marjorie,” said the elder. -</p> -<p> -“He has covered my face with His hand as a father plays with his bairn, -but some day sune He will lift His hand, and the first thing that Marjorie -sees in a' her life will be His ain face.” - </p> -<p> -And Donald Menzies declared to Bumbrae on the way home that he would -gladly go blind all the days of his life if he were as sure of that sight -when the day broke and the shadows fled away. -</p> -<div style="height: 6em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of His Majesty Baby and Some Common People, by -Ian MacLaren - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIS MAJESTY BABY *** - -***** This file should be named 43727-h.htm or 43727-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/7/2/43727/ - -Produced by David Widger - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: His Majesty Baby and Some Common People - -Author: Ian MacLaren - -Release Date: September 15, 2013 [EBook #43727] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIS MAJESTY BABY *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - - -HIS MAJESTY BABY AND SOME COMMON PEOPLE - -By Ian MacLaren - -1902 - -To Andrew Carnegie, - -The Munificent Benefactor Of - -Scots Students - - - - -I.--HIS MAJESTY BABY - -UNTIL the a'bus stopped and the old gentleman entered, we had been a -contented and genial company, travelling from a suburb into the city in -high, good fellowship, and our absolute monarch was Baby. His mother -was evidently the wife of a well-doing artisan, a wise-looking, capable, -bonnie young woman; and Baby was not a marvel of attire, nor could he -be called beautiful. He was dressed after a careful, tidy, comfortable -fashion, and he was a clear-skinned, healthy child; that is all you -would have noticed had you met the two on the street. In a'bus where -there is nothing to do for forty minutes except stare into one another's -faces, a baby has the great chance of his life, and this baby was -made to seize it. He was not hungry, and there were no pins about his -clothes, and nobody had made him afraid, and he was by nature a human -soul. So he took us in hand one by one, till he had reduced us all to a -state of delighted subjection, to the pretended scandal and secret -pride of his mother. His first conquest was easy, and might have been -discounted, for against such an onset there was no power of resistance -in the elderly woman opposite--one of the lower middles, fearfully -stout, and of course a grandmother. He simply looked at her--if he -smiled, that was thrown in--for, without her knowledge, her arms had -begun to shape for his reception--so often had children lain on that -ample resting-place. "Bless 'is little 'eart; it do me good to see him." -No one cared to criticize the words, and we remarked to ourselves how -the expression changes the countenance. Not heavy and red, far less -dull, the proper adjective for the face is motherly. The next passenger, -just above Grannie, is a lady, young and pretty, and a mother? Of -course; did you not see her look Baby over, as an expert at her -sharpest, before she grows old and is too easily satisfied? Will she -approve, or is there something wrong which male persons and grandmothers -cannot detect? The mother is conscious of inspection, and adjusts a -ribbon His Majesty had tossed aside--one of his few decorations which -he wore on parade for the good of the public and his own glory--and then -she meekly awaited approval. For a moment we were anxious, but that was -our foolishness, for in half a minute the lady's face relaxed, and she -passed Baby. She leant forward and asked questions, and we overheard -scraps of technical detail: "My first... fourteen months... six teeth... -always well." Baby was bored, and apologised to the'bus. "Mothers, you -know--this is the way they go on; but what a lot they do for us! so we -must be patient." Although rank outsiders--excluded from the rites of -the nursery--yet we made no complaint, but were rather pleased at this -conference. One was a lady, the other a working woman; they had not -met before, they were not likely to meet again, but they had forgotten -strangeness and differences in the common bond of motherhood. Opposite -me a priest was sitting and saying his office, but at this point his -eye fell on the mothers, and I thought his lips shaped the words "Sancta -Maria" before he went on with the appointed portion, but that may have -been my fancy. The'bus will soon be dropping into poetry. Let us be -serious and stare before us, as becometh well-bred English people. - -Baby has wearied of inaction, and has begun another campaign, and -my heart sinks, for this time he courts defeat; On the other side of -Grannie and within Baby's sphere of influence was a man about whose -profession there could be little doubt, even if he had not a bag on his -knee and were not reading from a parchment document. After a long and -serious consideration of the lawyer's clear-cut, clean-shaven, bloodless -face, Baby leant forward and tapped gently on the deed, and then, when -the keen face looked up in quick inquiry, Baby replied with a smile -of roguish intelligence, as if to say, "Full of big words as long as -myself, but quite useless; it could all have been said in a sentence, -as you and I know quite well; by the way, that parchment would make an -excellent drum; do you mind me? A tune has just come into my head." - -The lawyer, of course, drew away the deed, and frowned at the insolence -of the thing? No, he did not--there is a soul in lawyers, if you know -how to find it. He smiled. Well, it was not a first-rate smile, but -I swear that it was genuine, and the next time he did it better, and -afterwards it spread all over his face and lighted up his eyes. He had -never been exposed in such a genial, irresistible way before, and so he -held the drum, and Baby played a variation on "Rule Britannia" with much -spirit, while grannie appealed for applause. - -"If 'e don't play as well as the band in 'yde Park of a Sunday." - -After a well deserved rest of forty seconds, during which we wagged our -heads in wonder, Baby turned his attention to his right-hand neighbour, -and for the balance of the minute examined her with compassion. An old -maid without question, with her disposition written on the thin, tightly -drawn lips, and the hard, grey eyes. None of us would care to trifle -with... Will he dare?... if he has not! That was his chief stroke of -genius, and it deserved success--when, with an expression of unaffected -pity, he put out his soft, dimpled hand and gently stroked her cheek. -"Poor thing, all alone,'lone,'lone," he cooed in her ear, as if to say -with liquid baby speech, "I'm so solly, solly, solly, so velly, velly, -velly solly." Did I say that her eyes were tender and true enough to -win a man's heart and keep it, and that her lips spoke of patience and -gentleness? If I did not, I repair my neglect. She must have been a -beautiful woman in her youth--no, no, to-day, just when she inclines -her head ever so slightly, and Baby strokes her cheek again, and cooes, -"Pretty, pretty, pretty, and so velly, velly, velly good." Was not that -a lovely flush on her cheek?--oh, the fool of a man who might have had -that love. She opens a neat little bag, and as this was an imperial -incident we watched without shame. Quite so; she is to be away all -day, and has got a frugal luncheon, and--it's all she can do in return. -Perhaps he cannot eat it. I don't know, nor does she; that's the pity of -it, poor soul, baby-ways are a mystery to her; but would he refuse that -biscuit? Not he; he makes an immense to do over it, and shows it to his -mother and all his loyal subjects; and he was ready to be kissed, but -she did not like to kiss him. Peace be with thy shy, modest soul, the -Christ-child come into thine heart! - -Two passengers on Baby's left had endured these escapades with patient -and suffering dignity. When a boy is profoundly conscious that he -is--well, a man--and yet a blind and unfeeling world conspires to treat -him as--well, a child--he must protect himself and assert his position. -Which he does, to the delight of everybody with any sense of humour, by -refusing indignantly to be kissed by his mother--or at least sisters--in -public, by severely checking any natural tendency to enthusiasm about -anything except sport, by allowing it to be understood that he has -exhausted the last remaining pleasure and is fairly burnt out. Dear boy, -and all the time ready to run a mile to see a cavalry regiment drill, -and tormented by a secret hankering after the Zoological Gardens. These -two had been nice little chaps two years ago, and would be manly -fellows two years hence. Meanwhile they were provoking, and required -chastisement or regeneration. Baby was to them a "kid," to be treated -with contempt, and when in a paroxysm of delight over the folly of a -law paper he had tilted one of the young men's hats, that blase ancient -replaced it in position with a bored and weary air. How Baby had taken -in the situation I cannot guess, but he had his mind on the lads, and -suddenly, while they were sustaining an elaborate unconcern, he flung -himself back and crowed--yes, joyfully crowed--with rosy, jocund -countenance in the whites of the eyes of the two solemnities. One raised -his eyebrows, and the other looked at the roof in despair; but I had -hopes, and who could resist this bubbling, chortling mirth? Next minute -one chuckles joyfully, and the other tickles Baby just at the right spot -below the chin--has a baby at home after all, and loves it--declaring -aloud that he is "a jolly little beggar." Those boys are all right; -there is a sound heart below the little affectations, and they are going -to be men. - -This outburst of His Majesty cheered us all mightily, and a young woman -at the top of the'bus catching his eye, waved her hand to him, with -a happy smile. Brown glove, size six and a quarter, perhaps six, much -worn, and jacket also not of yesterday; but everything is well made, -and in perfect taste. Milk-white teeth, hazel eyes. Grecian nose, what a -winsome girl!--and let me see, she takes off a glove--yes, is wearing -an engagement ring: a lucky fellow, for she must be good with those eyes -and that merry smile. Daughter of a doctor or clergyman who died before -he could provide for his family; a teacher, one guesses, and to-day -off duty, going to meet her fiance in the city; and then the three--her -mother, that dear woman with hair turning grey--will go upon the river, -and come home in the sweet summer evening, full of content. As soon as -he gets a rise in the office they will marry, and she will also have her -gift, as every woman should. But where am I now?--let that Baby bear the -blame. - -We had one vacant place, and that was how the old gentleman intruded on -our peace; but let me make every excuse for him. It is aggravating to -stand on the edge of the pavement and wave your umbrella ostentatiously -to a'bus which passes you and draws up fifteen yards ahead, to make your -dangerous way along a slippery street with hansoms bent upon your life, -to be ordered to "hurry up," by an impatient conductor and ignominiously -hauled on to a moving 'bus. For an elderly man of military appearance and -short temper it was not soothing, and he might have been excused a word -or two, but he distinctly exceeded. - -He insisted in language of great directness and simplicity that the -conductor had seen him all the time; that if he didn't he ought to have -been looking; that he--the Colonel--was not a fox-terrier to run after -a'bus in the mud; that the conductor was an impertinent scoundrel, and -that he would have him dismissed, with other things and words unworthy -even of a retired Anglo-Indian. The sympathy of the'bus did not go out -to him, and when he forced himself in between the lawyer and Grannie, -and, leaning forward with his hands on his cane, glared at us -impartially, relations were strained. A cut on his left cheek and a -bristly white moustache, half hiding, half concealing a cruel mouth, did -not commend the new passenger to a peaceable company. Baby regarded the -old man with sad attention, pained at his unlicensed talk, but full -of charity, and at last he indicates that his fancy is to examine the -silver head of the Colonel's cane. The Colonel, after two moments' -hesitation, removes his hands and gives full liberty. On second -thoughts, he must have got that cut in some stiff fight; wonder whether -he is a V.G. Baby moves the cane back and forwards to a march of his own -devising--the Colonel actively assisting. Now that I see it in a proper -light, his moustache is soft and sets off the face excellently. Had it -not been the cut puckering the corner of the upper lip, that would have -been a very sweet mouth for a man, or even for a woman. Baby is not -lifted above all human weaknesses--preserve us from perfect people--and -he indicates a desire to taste as well as handle the silver head. The -Colonel is quite agreeable--the most good-natured man you could meet in -a day's journey. But Baby's guardian objects, and history warns us of -the dangers which beset a collision between an absolute monarch and his -faithful Commons. We were all concerned, but the crisis is safe in -the Colonel's hands. He thrusts his hand within the tightly-buttoned -frock-coat and produces a gold hunting-watch--crested, did you notice, -and... yes, just what every father has done for his baby since watches -were invented--before that a fist served the purpose--he blew, the lid -flew open. Baby blew, and the lid flew open faster and farther. Grannie -would like to know whether any baby could have done the trick better, -but there was no use asking us. "Reminds me of my boy at that age... -Bailed on frontier last year." Is much ashamed of this confidence, and -we all look unconscious. What a fine, simple old fellow he is! - -"Saved up, has he"--the Colonel is speaking to the mother--"to give Baby -and you a week at Ramsgate?... he's the right sort, your husband... it's -for Baby, not for you, to get him some fol-de-rol, you know... he's done -a lot of good to a crusty old chap."... The conductor has taken in the -scene with huge delight, and closes it just at the right point. "Your -club, General; just wait till the'bus stops.... Can ye get near the -kerb, Bill? Now, that's right, take care, sir, plenty of time... Oh, -that was nothing, might'ave seen you sooner... thank ye, I do smoke at a -time... Mornin', General; all right, Bill." The Colonel was standing -on the broad top step of the "Veteran's" smiling and waving his hand; -the'bus waved back, and the conductor touched his cap. "A gentleman -every inch; cads ain't mide that wy," and Baby danced for sheer -Christian joy, since there is no victory like Love. - - - - -II.--NEWS OF A FAMOUS VICTORY - - -HE had been talking that morning at the Office of the siege of -Ladysmith, for six relatives of the family were at the front, three -with Sir George White in the besieged place, and three with Sir Redvers -Buller, fighting for their deliverance. Word had come to the house the -night before that Ladysmith might be relieved any hour, and every -one knew that unless help came speedily, the garrison would have to -surrender. Duty took me to Cambridge that day, and I had gone upstairs -to get ready, and coming down again I heard a shout in the hall as -if something had happened, but it did not occur to me what it was. My -hostess was speaking excitedly somewhere, and I could not catch what she -was saying. Servants had rushed out from bedrooms and other places, and -were standing on the breakfast-table in a house near the War landings. -As I reached the hall the butler, a most stately personage, broke forth -from his quarters and rushed past me carrying his coat on his arm, and -then in his shirt sleeves, having forgotten to put on his coat, and -without a hat--he will likely deny this, but he was a spectacle for gods -and men--he ran, yes, he who was intended by nature to be an archbishop, -ran across the square. Then I understood, and turned to a footman, who -looked as if he would like to follow the butler. - -"Ladysmith," was all I said. - -"Yes," he cried; "word come, War Office, sent here, butler gone, make -sure"; then he went out to the doorstep to catch the first sight of the -returning butler. Meanwhile my hostess had come down to the hall, and -there had gathered the household of all kinds and degrees--my host and -the other guests had gone out--housemaids, ladies' maids, kitchen-maids, -footmen, her majesty the cook, and every other person beneath the roof, -high and low, and we were all trembling lest there had been some mistake -in the message, and the news was not true. The butler came across St. -James's Square, and when he saw us standing--forgetting himself again, -but now he had his coat on--he waved triumphantly, and then we knew -that Ladysmith was saved. We gave some sort of cheer and shook hands -indiscriminately, each one with his neighbour, and with two or three -neighbours, and talked together, mingling names of Generals and -relatives, and places, and battles, while the butler, who had arrived -and regained his breath, but not yet his unapproachable dignity, assured -us that the siege was lifted, and that White, and what remained of his -gallant men, were unconquered. - -It was time for me to start, and I told the hansom man to drive round by -the War Office, that I might see this great thing. When we got down -the Press were just leaving with the intelligence, and the first of the -public were reading the news. Each man took the news in his own fashion, -one laughing and slapping his legs, another crying and speaking -to himself, a third rushing out to cheer, and I, why I, being an -unemotional Scot, remembered that if I fooled away any more time, -reading news of victories, I might lose my train, so I rushed back to -the hansom. - -"Is't all correct?" the driver leant down from his perch, determined -not to let himself go till he was perfectly certain that, not only the -straight tip had been given, but that at last the event had come off. - -"All right," I said; "Buller's army have driven back the Boers, and the -advance guard has entered Ladysmith." - -Whereupon he whipped off his hat, and standing up in his place, a stout, -red-faced Englishman in sporting dress, he gave a cheer all on his own -account, and then when I got in he opened the trap and shouted down, -"Old Buller's done it; he had a bloomin' tough job, but he's a game -sportsman, and I said he'd do it. And old Buller's done it." Again he -celebrated the event with a cheer, and we started for Charing Cross. - -Something occurred to me, and I pushed the trap open. "Look here," I -said, "the people near the War Office have heard the news, but after we -pass Piccadilly Circus you'll be the first man to tell that the siege is -raised." - -"Right, sir, I'm on the job. Old Buller's done it." By the time we -reached Bloomsbury he had the whole country to himself, and he did his -duty manfully. As we crossed a thoroughfare, he would shout to the'bus -drivers on either side, "Ladysmith relieved; just come from the War -Office. Old Buller's done it." Then in an instant, before we plunged -into the opposite street, one could see the tidings run both ways, -from 'bus to 'bus, from cab to cab, and the hats waving in the air, and -hear, "Ladysmith and Buller." Bloomsbury is a fearfully decorous and -immovable district, inhabited by professors and British Museum students, -and solid merchants, and professional men, but my driver for once -stirred up Bloomsbury. A householder would be standing on his doorstep -in tall hat and frock coat, well brushed, and with a daintily folded -umbrella under his left arm, fastening the left button of the second -glove, and looking out upon the world from the serene superiority of a -single eyeglass. Then he would catch sight of us, and the sound of -something my driver was flinging to the men on a furniture van. - -"What's that?" he would cry in a sharp, excited, insistent voice; -"anything about Ladysmith?" - -"Relieved," from the hansom top. "War Office news. Old Buller's done -it." - -Down fell the umbrella on the step, and down came the eyeglass from -the eye, and with an answering cheer the unstarched, enthusiastic, -triumphant, transformed householder bolted into his home to make it -known from attic to kitchen that White and his men had not fought in -vain. - -Round the dustbin at the corner of a street half a dozen street boys were -gathered, and the driver in his glory passed a word to them also. They -did not know where they would get their dinner, and they had not had -much breakfast, their whole stock of clothes would not have been worth -1s. 9d., and not one of them had a cap, but they also were a bit of -England, and this victory was theirs, and the last I saw of them they -were standing each one upon his head and waving joyfully with his feet. - -"See, sir, how the kids took it," for my driver was getting more -magnificent every minute; "said all along old Buller would do it." - -Coming down Euston Road was one blaze of glory, and when we swept into -King's Cross Station at the gallop, and my driver saw the crowd of -waiting porters and other hangers-on, an audience as yet unspoiled and -waiting, ready for such news, it was, I take it, the greatest moment in -his life. He pulled up the horse on his haunches, and again stood up on -his high place. - -"Straight from the War Office, as hard as we could drive; it's all right -at Ladysmith--the siege is lifted, and old Buller's done it"; and then, -to crown the occasion, "Three cheers for General Buller." - -He led from the top, and they joined from below, and so great was the -excitement that when I offered the usual tip to the porter to carry my -things to the carriage, he flatly refused to take it. - -"Hexcuse me, sir, not to-day; I ain't that sort. You brought the news of -Ladysmith." Which indeed was all my share of the glory of the passage: -the rest belonged to my driver, who was indeed a Mercury fit for the -work of the gods. - -Just as the train was starting a man arrived with a pile of newspapers -to sell them on the downward journey, for the special editions with the -relief of Ladysmith had been got out with vast celerity. It was a pretty -sight when the train stopped at some country station to see the man jump -out and hear him shout the news, while the people, a moment ago stolid -and indifferent, crowded round him to buy the paper. And then the train -went on its way, followed by a cheer, because Ladysmith was safe. At one -station two respectable country women got into the compartment where I -had been alone, and they had been so eager, as their kind is, to secure -their places, that they had not caught the news before the train left -the station. By-and-by they began talking together, and it appeared that -the elderly woman had a son at the front, a reservist in an infantry -regiment with General Buller, while the other was the wife of a -reservist who was with the cavalry under General French. It was hard -lines, one could not but feel, for those women to have a son and a -husband taken away from their homes and peaceful employment, and sent -out to hardship and danger. And it would not have been wonderful if they -had complained of their lot. But no, my heart swelled with pride as in -a corner of the carriage, and behind my newspaper, I heard the mother and -the wife exchanging news from the seat of campaign, and talking cheerily -of critical affairs. Till at last, and quite suddenly, trouble arose, -and there might have been a hot quarrel in that compartment. - -"My man's all right," said the wife; "he's with French, you know, and -French looks after his men, 'e does. Jim says as 'ow 'is General won't -let 'is men into any traps." - -"Who are ye getting hat may I ask?" said the elderly lady, flushing -purple with indignation--"talking about traps. If it's General Buller -ye're meanin', hexcuse me telling you, 'e don't get 'is men into traps. My -boy says that he 'ad the hardest job of them hall, 'ad General Buller, and -George, 'e writes and says to me in 'is last letter, 'you just wait and -see if General Buller don't do it'--them's 'is very words, 'you just -wait and see if General Buller don't do it.'" - -The younger woman explained she had been making no reflections on -General Buller, but only had been telling how proud her husband was of -his Commander, but nothing would appease the old lady. - -"I know nothing about French, and I say nothing against French, but I -wish you to understand that Buller is a good old sort, and, as sure as -you're sitting there in this carriage,'e'll do the job." - -Then I laid down my newspaper, and addressed the reservist's mother. - -"Madam," I said, "your son was right, and Buller is a good old sort; -he's done the job, and Ladysmith is safe." - -We all shook hands, two women wept, but not for sorrow, and a man looked -out of the window, intent upon the scenery. - - - - -III.--A MODEST SCHOLAR - - -BEING a household of moderate attainments, and not being at all superior -people, we were gravely concerned on learning that it was our duty to -entertain the distinguished scholar, for our pride was chastened by -anxiety and we had once received moderators. His name was carried far -and wide on the wings of fame, and even learned people referred to him -with a reverence in the tone, because it was supposed there was almost -nothing within the range of languages and philosophy and theology which -he did not know, and that if there happened to be any obscure department -he had not yet overtaken, he would likely be on the way to its conquest. -We speculated what like he would be--having only heard rumours--and -whether he would be strangely clothed, we discussed what kind of company -we could gather to meet such a man, and whether we ought, that is the -two trembling heads of the household, to read up some subject beforehand -that we might be able at least to know where he was if we could not -follow him. And we were haunted with the remembrance of a literary -woman who once condescended to live with us for two days, and whose -conversation was so exhausting that we took it in turns like the -watch on board ship, one standing on the bridge with the spin-drift of -quotations flying over his head, and the other snatching a few minutes' -sleep to strengthen her for the storm. That overwhelming lady was only -the oracle of a circle after all, but our coming visitor was known to -the ends of the earth. - -It was my place to receive him at the station, and pacing up and -down the platform, I turned over in my mind appropriate subjects for -conversation in the cab, and determined to lure the great man into a -discussion of the work of an eminent Oxford philosopher which had just -been published, and which I knew something about. I had just arranged -a question which I intended to submit for his consideration, when -the express came in, and I hastened down the first-class carriages to -identify the great man. High and mighty people, clothed in purple and -fine linen, or what corresponds to such garments in our country, were -descending in troops with servants and porters waiting upon them, but -there was no person that suggested a scholar. Had he, in the multitude -of his thoughts, forgotten his engagement altogether, or had he left the -train at some stopping-place and allowed it to go without him--anything -is possible with such a learned man. - -Then I saw a tall and venerable figure descend from a third-class -compartment and a whole company of genuine "third classers" handing -out his luggage while he took the most affectionate farewell of them. -A working man got out to deposit the scholar's Gladstone bag upon the -platform while his wife passed out his umbrella, and another working man -handled delicately a parcel of books. The scholar shook hands with every -one of his fellow-passengers including children, and then I presented -myself, and looked him in the face. He was rather over six feet in -height, and erect as a sapling, dressed in old-fashioned and well -brushed black clothes, and his face placed me immediately at ease, for -though it was massive and grave, with deep lines and crowned with -thick white hair, his eyes were so friendly and sincere, had such an -expression of modesty and affection, that even then, and on the first -experience, I forgot the gulf between us. Next instant, and almost -before I had mentioned my name he seized me by the hand, and thanked me -for my coming. - -"This, my good sir," he said with his old-fashioned courtesy, "is a -kindness which I never for an instant anticipated, and when I remember -your many important engagements (important!) and the sacrifice which -this gracious act (gracious!) must have entailed upon you, I feel this -to be an honour, sir, for which you will accept this expression of -gratitude." It seemed as if there must have been something wrong in our -imagination of a great man's manner, and when he insisted, beyond my -preventing, in carrying his bag himself, and would only allow me with -many remonstrances to relieve him of the books; when I had difficulty -in persuading him to enter a cab because he was anxious to walk to our -house, our fancy portrait had almost disappeared. Before leaving the -platform he had interviewed the guard and thanked him by both word and -deed for certain "gracious and mindful attentions in the course of the -journey." - -My wife acknowledged that she had been waiting to give the great man -afternoon tea in fear and trembling, but there was something about him -so winsome that she did not need even to study my face, but felt at once -that however trying writing-women and dilletante critics might be, one -could be at home with a chief scholar. When I described the guests who -were coming--to meet him at dinner--such eminent persons as I could -gather--he was overcome by the trouble we had taken, but also alarmed -lest he should be hardly fit for their company, being, as he explained -himself, a man much restricted in knowledge through the just burden of -professional studies. And before he went to his room to dress he had -struck up an acquaintance with the youngest member of the family, who -seemed to have forgotten that our guest was a very great man, and had -visited a family of Japanese mice with evident satisfaction. During -dinner he was so conscious of his poverty of attainment in the presence -of so many distinguished people that he would say very little, but -listened greedily to everything that fell from the lips of a young -Oxford man who had taken a fair degree and was omniscient. After dinner -we wiled him into a field where very few men have gone, and where he -was supposed to know everything that could be known, and then being once -started he spoke for forty minutes to our huge delight with such -fulness and accuracy of knowledge, with such lucidity and purity of -speech--allowing for the old-fashioned style--that even the Oxford man -was silent and admired. - -Once and again he stopped to qualify his statement of some other -scholar's position lest he should have done him injustice, and in the -end he became suddenly conscious of the time he had spoken and implored -every one's pardon, seeing, as he explained "that the gentlemen present -will likely have far more intimate knowledge of this subject than I can -ever hope to attain." He then asked whether any person present had ever -seen a family of Japanese mice, and especially whether they had ever -seen them waltzing, or as he described it "performing their circular -motions of the most graceful and intricate nature, with almost -incredible continuance." And when no one had, he insisted on the -company going to visit the menagerie, which was conduct not unbecoming a -gentleman, but very unbecoming a scholar. - -Next morning, as he was a clergyman, I asked him to take family worship, -and in the course of the prayer he made most tender supplication for the -sick relative of "one who serves in this household," and we learned -that he had been conversing with the housemaid who attended to his room, -having traced some expression of sorrow on her face, and found out that -her mother was ill; while we, the heads of the household, had known -nothing about the matter, and while we imagined that a scholar would be -only distantly aware that a housemaid had a mother. It was plainer than -ever that we knew nothing whatever about great scholars. The public -function for which he came was an overwhelming success, and after -the lapse of now many years people still remember that man of amazing -erudition and grandeur of speech. But we, being simple people, and -especially a certain lad, who is rapidly coming now to manhood, remember -with keen delight how this absurd scholar had hardly finished afternoon -tea before he demanded to see the mice, who were good enough to turn -out of their nest, a mother and four children, and having rotated, the -mother by herself, and the children by themselves, and each one having -rotated by itself, all whirled round together in one delirium of -delight, partly the delight of the mice and partly of the scholar. - -Having moved us all to the tears of the heart by his prayer next -morning, for it was as the supplication of a little child, so simple, -so confiding, so reverent and affectionate, he bade the whole household -farewell, from the oldest to the youngest with a suitable word for each, -and he shook hands with the servants, making special inquiry for the -housemaid's mother, and--there is no use concealing a scholar's disgrace -any more than another man's--he made his last call upon the Japanese -mice, and departed bowing at the door, and bowing at the gate of the -garden, and bowing before he entered the cab, and bowing his last -farewell from the window, while he loaded us all with expressions -of gratitude for our "gracious and unbounded hospitality, which had -refreshed him alike both in body and mind." And he declared that -he would have both that hospitality and ourselves in "continual -remembrance." - -Before we retired to rest I had approached the question of his expenses, -although I had an instinct that our scholar would be difficult to -handle, and he had waived the whole matter as unworthy of attention. On -the way to the station I insisted upon a settlement with the result that -he refused to charge any fee, being thankful if his "remarks," for he -refused to give them the name of lecture, had been of any use for the -furtherance of knowledge, and as regards expenses they were limited to -a third-class return fare. He also explained that there were no other -charges, as he travelled in cars and not in cabs, and any gifts he -bestowed (by which I understood the most generous tips to every human -being that served him in any fashion) were simply a private pleasure -of his own. When I established him in the corner seat of a third-class -compartment, with his humble luggage above his head, and an Arabic book -in his hand, and some slight luncheon for the way in his pocket, he -declared that he was going to travel as a prince. Before the train left -an old lady opposite him in the carriage--I should say a tradesman's -widow--was already explaining the reason of her journey, and he was -listening with benignant interest. Three days later he returned the -fee which was sent him, having deducted the third-class return fare, -thanking us for our undeserved generosity, but explaining that he would -count it a shame to grow rich through his services to knowledge. Some -years afterwards I saw him in the distance, at a great public meeting, -and when he mounted the platform the huge audience burst into prolonged -applause, and were all the more delighted when he, who never had -the remotest idea that people were honouring him, looked round, -and discovering a pompous nonentity who followed him, clapped -enthusiastically. And the only other time and the last that I saw him -was on the street of a famous city, when he caught sight of a country -woman dazed amid the people and the traffic, and afraid to cross to the -other side. Whereupon our scholar gave the old woman his arm and led her -carefully over, then he bowed to her, and shook hands with her, and I -watched his tall form and white hair till he was lost in the distance. -I never saw him again, for shortly after he had also passed over to the -other side. - - - - -IV.--MY FRIEND THE TRAMP - - -ONE of the memorable and pitiable sights of the West, as the traveller -journeys across the prairies, is the little group of Indians hanging -round the lonely railway station. They are not dangerous now, nor are -they dignified; they are harmless, poor, abject, shiftless, ready to -beg or ready to steal, or to do anything else except work, and the one -possession of the past which they still retain is the inventive and -instinctive cunning of the savage, who can read the faintest sign like -a written language, and knows the surest way of capturing his prey. One -never forgets the squalid figure with some remains of former grandeur -in his dress, and the gulf between us and this being of another race, -unchanged amid the modern civilization. And then one comes home and -suddenly recognizes our savages at our own doors. - -Our savage tramps along our country roads, and loafs along our busy -streets, he stops us with his whine when no policeman is near, and -presents himself upon our doorstep, and when he is a master of his -business he will make his way into our house. He has his own dress, -combining many styles and various periods, though reduced to a -harmony by his vagabond personality. He has his own language, which is -unintelligible to strangers, and a complete system of communication by -pictures. He marries and lives and dies outside civilization, sharing -neither our habits nor our ideas, nor our labours, nor our religion, and -the one infallible and universal badge of his tribe is that our savage -will not work. He will hunger and thirst, he will sweat and suffer, he -will go without shelter and without comfort, he will starve and die, but -one thing he will not do, not even to get bread, and that is work; not -even for tobacco, his dearest treasure and kindliest support, will he do -fifteen minutes' honest labour. The first and last article in his creed, -for which he is prepared to be a martyr and which makes him part of -a community, is "I believe in idleness." He has in him the blood of -generations of nomads, and if taken off the roads, and compelled to earn -his living would likely die. A general law of compulsory industry would -bring the race to an end. - -Besides his idleness he has many faults, for he is a liar to the bone, -he is a drunkard whenever he can get the chance, he steals in small ways -when it is safe, he bullies women if they are alone in a country house, -he has not a speaking acquaintance with soap and water, and if he -has any virtue it is not of a domestic character. He is ungrateful, -treacherous, uncleanly, and vicious, to whom it is really wrong to give -food, far more money, and to whom it is barely safe to give the shelter -of an outhouse, far less one's roof. And yet he is an adroit, shrewd, -clever, entertaining rascal. He carries the geography of counties in his -head down to the minutest details which you can find on no map, knowing -every mountain track, and forgotten footpath, every spring where he can -get water, and the warmest corner in a wood where he can sleep. He has -also another map in his memory of the houses with the people that dwell -therein; which he ought to pass by, which it were a sin to neglect, -which are worth trying, and which have changed hands. And he is ever -carrying on his ordnance survey, and bringing information up to date; -and as he and his fellows make a note of their experiences for those who -follow after, it may be safely said that no one knows better either -a country-side or its inhabitants from his own point of view than our -friend the vagrant. - -Perhaps the struggle for existence has quickened his wits beyond those -of his race, but at any rate our vagabond is not fettered by that solid -and conventional English intellect which persists in doing things as -our fathers used to do them, and will not accommodate itself to changing -conditions. Our vagabond has certain old lines which he has long -practised and which he is always willing to use, in suitable -circumstances, such as the workman out of employment and tramping to -another city to get a job because he has not money enough to pay his -railway fare, or a convalescent just discharged from hospital and making -his way home to his wife and children, or a high-spirited man too proud -to beg, and only anxious for a day's work (in some employment which -cannot be found within twenty miles). And when he plays any of these -roles he is able to assume an air of interesting weariness as if he -could not drag one leg after the other, and on occasion will cough with -such skill as to suggest galloping consumption. And poor (but proud) he -only allows the truth to be dragged from him after much hesitation. But -when those lines fail and new inventions are needed for new times he -rises to the occasion. If there be a great miner's strike he goes -from town to town begging money for his wife and children at home, and -explaining the hardships of a miner's life, which he has diligently, -although superficially, learned; and after a war he is a reservist who -threw up a profitable job at his country's call, and is now penniless -and starving, but still unwaveringly patriotic; and if there be any -interest in the sea through recent storm and shipwrecks, he also, this -man of many trials and many journeys, has been saved with difficulty -from the waves and lost his little all. If he calls upon a priest, he is -careful to call him "Father," and to pose as a faithful Catholic; and if -he be an Irishman, his brogue then becomes a fortune, but if he drops -in upon a Minister of the Kirk he recalls the good which he got when -sitting in the West Kirk of Paisley; and if he be so fortunate as to be -really Scots in blood, and therefore acquainted with theology, he will -not only deceive that minister, but even the elect themselves, I mean -the Caledonian Society. When the vagabond comes upon a home of simple -lay piety, he allows it to be understood that he has led a life of -fearful wickedness but is now a genuine penitent, asking only for the -means of gaining an honest livelihood. He is fertile in devices and -brilliant in execution, without any prejudices against the past -or present, but ever bringing forth from his treasury of unabashed -falsehood and ingenious impudence things new and old. - -Our savage has also got, what I believe the Red Indians have not, -an agreeable sense of humour, which no doubt is limited by practical -details, but is in its way very captivating. What a stroke of delightful -irony it was for a pair of our savages to take a long street between -them, the man begging down the right-hand side, and the woman the left, -while the man told a mournful tale of his wife's death, and asked money -to get her a coffin that she might be respectably buried--he being poor -(but proud) and a broken-hearted widower--as well as to clothe their two -mourning little ones in black for the funerals, and for the woman to tell -exactly the same story as she went down the opposite side of the street, -except that it was her husband she was burying, and she poor (but proud) -and a broken-hearted widow. They took no notice of one another across -the street, and none when they completed their work at the further -end, but a few minutes later they were sitting in the same public-house -together, both wonderfully comforted and affording a remarkable -illustration of the dead burying their dead. - -Our vagabond is a superb actor within his own province, and greatly -enjoys a triumph in any conflict with the enemy. He was one day singing -the "Sweet By-and-By" with such a voice and so much unctuous emotion -that I lost patience, and broke out on him for his laziness and -profanity. For a moment he was almost confounded, and then he assumed an -air of meek martyrdom suggestive of a good man who had been trying to do -his little best for the salvation of his fellow-creatures, and was -being persecuted for righteousness sake. This was for the benefit of a -simple-minded old gentleman who had been greatly shocked at my remarks, -and now, as a rebuke to an ungodly and unsympathetic clergyman and an -encouragement to humble piety, gave the vagabond a shilling. "God bless -you," he said with much feeling to the philanthropist, and started again -the "Sweet By-and-By"! but before we parted he tipped me a wink over his -victory, charged with inexpressible humour. - -When one of the savages honoured our humble home by calling one day -as an incapacitated member of the Mercantile Marine and obtained -half-a-crown from my tender-hearted wife, partly through sympathy, but -also through alarm, because the suffering sailor proposed to exhibit the -sores upon his legs, I knew that the tidings would be carried far and -wide throughout the nearest tribe, our local Black-feet as it were, and -that we would be much favoured in days to come. So we were, by other -sailors, also with sores, by persons who had been greatly helped by my -preaching in the years of long ago, by widow women full of sorrow and -gin, by countrymen stranded helpless in a big unsympathetic city, till -our house was little better than a casual ward. Then I took the matter -in hand and interviewed the next caller, who had been long out of -employment, but had now obtained a job and only wanted the means of -living till Monday when he would be independent of everybody. He had -spent his last penny the day before on a piece of bread, and had tasted -nothing since. "Not even drink," I ventured to inquire, for by this time -the air round me was charged with alcohol, when he replied with severe -dignity that he had been a teetotaller since his boyhood. Then I -addressed him briefly but clearly, explaining that the half-crown had -been given by mistake, that we were greatly obliged for the visit of his -friends, that I had enjoyed his own call, but that it would save a -great deal of trouble to both sides if he would only intimate to his -fellow-tribesmen and women when they gathered round the camp fire in -the evening that there was no more spoil to be obtained at our house. He -looked at me, and I looked at him, and a smile came over his face. "I'm -fly," he said. And then as he went out at the door he turned for a last -shot, "Look here, sir, if you give me a bob, I'll join your church, and -be an elder in a month." A fellow of infinite jest, and I gave him a -shilling, but without conditions. - -The humour of our nomad is always practical, and when it masters him -it sweeps all professional hypocrisy before it like a water-flood, -and reveals the real man. Certainly quite unclothed, but also quite -unashamed. He had told his story so artfully, with such care in detail -and such conviction in tone, that I did believe for the moment that he -was a poor Scot trying to get home by sea to Glasgow, together with his -wife and four children, that he had obtained his passage-money from the -Caledonian Society, and that he only needed a little money for food and -such like expenses. This money I gave him somewhat lavishly, and yet -not quite without suspicion, and he left full of gratitude and national -enthusiasm. Three years later a man got entrance to my study on the -grounds of Christianity and nationality, and before he addressed me -directly I thought that I knew his voice. When he explained that he had -got his passage to Glasgow from that noble institution, the Caledonian -Society, but that as he had a wife and four children... I was sure we -had met before, and I offered to do the rest of the story myself, -which I did with such an accurate memory that he listened with keen -appreciation like a composer to the playing of his own piece, and only -added when I had finished, "So I did it here afore. Well, sir, ye may -take my word for it, it's the first mistake I've made in my business." -And he departed with the self-conceit of the Scots only slightly -chastened. - - - - -V.--OUR BOY - - -THE boy must have had a father, and some day he may be a father himself, -but in the meantime he is absolutely different from anything else on -the face of the earth. He is a race by himself, a special creation -that cannot be traced, for who would venture to liken his ways to the -respectability of his father, or who would ever connect him with the -grave and decorous man which he is to be. By-and-by, say in thirty -years, he will preside at a meeting for the prevention of cruelty to -animals, or make enthusiastic speeches for the conversion of black -people, or get in a white heat about the danger of explosives in the -house, or be exceedingly careful about the rate of driving. Meanwhile he -watches two dogs settle their political differences with keen interest, -and would consider it unsportsmanlike to interfere if they were fairly -matched, and the sight of a black man is to him a subject of unfailing -and practical amusement, if he can blow himself and a brother up with -gunpowder, he feels that time has not been lost, and it is to him a -chief delight--although stolen--to travel round at early morn with the -milkman, and being foolishly allowed to drive, to take every corner -on one wheel. He is skilful in arranging a waterfall which comes into -operation by the opening of a door; he keeps a menagerie of pets, -unsightly in appearance, and extremely offensive in smell in his -bedroom. He has an inexhaustible repertory of tricks for any servant -with whom he has quarrelled, and it is his pleasure to come downstairs -on the bannisters, and if any one is looking to make believe that he is -going to fall off and dash himself to destruction three floors below. -His father is aghast at him, and uses the strongest language regarding -his escapades; he wonders how it came to pass that such a boy should -turn up in his home, and considers him what gardeners would call "a -sport" or unaccountable eccentricity in the family. He is sure that he -never did such things when he was a boy, and would be very indignant if -you insinuated he had simply been a prophecy of his son. According -to his conversation you would imagine that his early life had been -distinguished by unbroken and spotless propriety, and his son himself -would not believe for a moment that the pater had ever been guilty of -his own exploits. The Boy is therefore lonely in his home, cut off from -the past and the future; he is apt to be misunderstood and even (in an -extreme case) censured, and his sufferings as a creature of a foreign -race with all the powers of government against him would be intolerable -had he not such a joy in living, and were he not sustained in everything -he does by a quite unaffected sense of innocence, and the proud -consciousness of honourable martyrdom. - -As wild animals are best studied in their native states, and are much -restricted in the captivity of a cage, so the Boy is not seen at his -best in a middle-class home where he is sadly fettered by vain customs -(although it is wonderful how even there he can realize himself). When -you want to understand what manner of creature he is, you must see him -on the street. And the boy _in exedsis_, and _de profundis_ too, is a -message-boy. - -Concluding that his son has had enough of the Board School, and learning -from his master that there was not the remotest chance he would ever -reach a higher standard, his father brings him some morning to a -respectable tradesman, and persuades the unsuspecting man to take him as -message-boy. Nothing could exceed the modesty and demure appearance of -the Boy, and the only fear is that he be too timid and too simple for -his duty--that he may be run over by a cab or bullied upon the streets. -Carefully washed by his mother, and with his hair nicely brushed, in a -plain but untorn suit of clothes, and a cap set decently on his head, he -is a beautiful sight, and he listens to his father's instructions to do -what he is told, and his master's commandment that he is not to meddle -with anything in the shop, in respectful and engaging silence. His -father departs with a warning look, and his master gives him an easy -errand, and the Boy goes out to begin life in a hard, unfriendly world, -while one pities his tender youth. - -The Boy has started with a considerable capital of knowledge, gathered -at school, and in a few weeks he is free of the streets--a full-grown -citizen in his own kingdom, and, if you please, we will watch him for an -hour. His master has given him some fish, and charged him as he values -his life to deliver them at once at No. 29, Rose Terrace, and the boy -departs with conscientious purpose. Half way to his destination he sees -in the far distance the butcher's boy, who also has been sent in hot -haste to some house where the cook is demanding the raw material -for luncheon. They signal to one another with clear, penetrating, -unintelligible cries like savages across a desert, and the result is -that the two messengers rendezvous at the corner of Rose Terrace. What -they talk about no person can tell, for their speech is their own, but -by-and-by under the influence of, no doubt informing, conversation, they -relax from there austere labours and lay down their baskets. A minute -later they are playing marbles with undivided minds, and might be -playing pitch and toss were they not afraid of a policeman coming round -the corner. It is nothing to them, gay, irresponsible children of -nature, that two cooks are making two kitchens unbearable with their -indignation, for the boy has learned to receive complaints with -imperturbable gravity and ingenious falsehood. Life for him is a -succession of pleasures, slightly chastened by work and foolish -impatience. As they play, a dog who has been watching them from afar -with keen interest, and thoroughly understands their ways, creeps near -with cautious cunning, and seizing the chance of a moment when the -butcher's boy has won a "streaky" from the fishmonger, dashes in and -seizes the leg of mutton. If he had been less ambitious and taken a -chop, he would have succeeded, and then the boy would have explained -that the chop had been lost in a street accident in which he was almost -killed, but a leg of mutton is heavy to lift and a boy is only less -alert than a dog. The spoil is barely over the edge of the basket, and -the dog has not yet tasted its sweetness, before the boy gives a yell so -shrill and fearsome that it raises the very hair on the dog's back, and -the thief bolts in terror without his prey. The boy picks up the -mutton, dusts it on his trousers, puts it back in the basket, gives the -fishmonger a playful punch on the side of the head, to which that worthy -responds with an attempted kick, and the two friends depart in opposite -directions, whistling, with a light heart and an undisturbed conscience. - -If any one imagines that the boy will now hurry with his fish, he does -not understand the nature of the race and its freedom from enslaving -rule. A few yards down Rose Terrace he comes upon the grocer's boy and -the two unearth a chemist's boy, and our boy produces a penny dreadful, -much tom and very fishy, but which contains the picture of a battle -swimming in blood, and the three sit down for its enjoyment. When they -have fairly exhausted their literature the boy receives his fee, as -the keeper of a circulating library, by being allowed to dip his finger -carefully wetted before into a bag of moist sugar, and to keep all that -he can take out, and the grocer's boy is able to close up the bag so -skilfully that the cook will never know that it has been opened. -From the chemist he receives a still more enjoyable because much more -perilous reward, for he is allowed to put his mouth to the spout of a -syphon and, if he can endure, to take what comes--and that is the reason -why syphons are never perfectly full. It occurs to the chemist at this -moment that he was told to lose no time in delivering some medicines, -and so he departs reluctantly; the conference breaks up, and it seems as -if nothing remained for the boy but to deliver the fish. Still you -never know what may happen, and as at that moment he catches sight of a -motor-car, it seems a mere duty to hurry back to the top of the terrace -to see whether it will break down. It does of course, for otherwise one -could hardly believe it to be a motor-car, and the boy under what he -would consider a call of providence, hastens to offer assistance. Other -boys arrive from different quarters, interested, sympathetic, obliging, -willing to co-operate with the irritated motor-man in every possible -way. They remain with him twenty-five minutes till he starts again, and -then three of them accompany him on a back seat, not because they were -invited, but because they feel they are needed. And then the boy goes -back to Rose Terrace and delivers the fish, stating with calm dignity, -that he had just been sent from the shop and had run all the way. - -Things are said to him at the house by the cook, who is not an absolute -fool, and things may be said to him by his master at the shop, who has -some knowledge of boys, but no injurious reflection of any kind affects -the boy. With a mind at leisure from itself he is able to send his empty -basket spinning along the street after a lady's poodle, and to accompany -this attention with a yell that will keep the pampered pet on the run -for a couple of streets to the fierce indignation of its mistress. And -the chances are that he will foregather with an Italian monkey boy, and -although the one knows no Italian and the other knows no English, they -will have pleasant fellowship together, because both are boys, and in -return for being allowed to have the monkey on his shoulder, and seeing -it run up a waterpipe, he will give the Italian half an apple which -comes out of his pocket with two marbles and a knife attached to it. If -he be overtaken by a drenching shower, he covers his head and shoulders -with his empty basket, sticks his hands in his pockets, and goes on his -way singing in the highest of spirits, but if the day be warm he travels -on the steps of a'bus when the conductor is on the roof, or on a lorry, -if the driver be not surly. If it be winter time, and there be ice on -the streets, he does his best, with the assistance of his friends, to -make a slide, and if the police interfere, with whom he is on terms -of honourable warfare, he contents himself with snowballing some -prudish-looking youth, who is out for a walk with his mother. All the -same he is not without his ambitions in the world, and he carries -sacred ideals in the secret of his heart. He would give all that he -possesses,--five lurid and very tattered books, a penknife with four -blades (two broken), nineteen marbles (three glass), and a pair of white -mice--to be the driver of a butcher's cart. The boy is a savage, and -although you may cover him with a thin veneer of civilization he remains -a savage. There is a high-class school for little boys in my district, -and those at a distance are driven home in cabs that they may not get -wet in winter weather and may not be over-fatigued. A cab is passing at -this moment with four boys, who have invited two friends to join them, -and it is raining heavily. Two boys are on the box seat with the driver, -and have thoughtfully left their topcoats inside in case they might get -spoiled. There is a boy with his head out at either window addressing -opprobrious remarks to those on the box-seat, for which insults one of -them has just lost his cap, the other two are fighting furiously in the -bottom of the cab, and will come out an abject spectacle. For you may -train a dog to walk on its hind legs, and you may tame a tiger, but you -cannot take the boyness out of a boy. - - - - -VI.--A RESIDUARY - - -I - -EXCEPTIONS may be allowed in theory, at least, but the rule stands -impregnable in reason and practice, that a wife should have the absolute -control of the household, and that no male person should meddle, even as -an irresponsible critic, with the servant department. There are limits -to the subjection of the gentler sex which reserves the right to choose -its acts of homage to the titular head of the family. Can anything -be prettier, for instance, than the deference which women of very -pronounced character will show to their husbands in some affairs? -"Nothing would have given me greater pleasure than to have taken a stall -at your charming bazaar, but my husband absolutely forbids me, and you -know what a tyrant he is about my health," or "You really must not ask -my opinion about the Eastern Question, for I am shockingly ignorant of -politics, but my husband knows everything, and I have heard him say that -the Government has been very weak." It would not, however, be wise for -this favoured man to trespass too far on the almost Oriental deference -of his wife, or hastily to suppose that because his word was useful in -saving her from the drudgery of an unfashionable bazaar or the weary -drone of a conversational bore, his was a universal infallibility. This -sweet spirit of passive obedience will not continue if a rash man should -differ from the house manager on the technical merits of a servant, for -he will then be told that his views on all such matters are less than -nothing and vanity. - -No man knows, nor ever expects to know, what women talk about after they -have left the dining-room in stately procession and secluded themselves -in the parliament of the drawing-room; but it may be guessed that the -conference, among other things, reviews the incredible folly of mankind -in the sphere of household affairs. How it will not give the head of -the family one minute's serious concern that the cook feeds her kinsfolk -with tit-bits in the kitchen, provided that his toast be crisp and his -favourite dish well cooked. How he would any day give a certificate of -character to the housemaid, if he were allowed to perpetrate such an -absurdity, simply and solely on the ground that his bath was ready every -morning, and his shaving-water hot, while he did not know, nor seem -to care, that the dust was lying thick in hidden corners. How he would -excuse the waitress having a miscellaneous circle of admirers, provided -she did not loiter at the table and was ingenious in saving him from -unwelcome callers. They compare notes on the trials of household -government; they comfort one another with sympathy; they revel in tales -of male innocence and helplessness, till they are amazed that men should -be capable of even such light duties as fall on them in their daily -callings, and are prepared to receive them kindly as they enter the room -with much diffidence and make an appeal by their very simplicity to a -woman's protecting care. - -John Leslie was devoted to his very pretty and very managing wife, and -had learned wisdom, so that he never meddled, but always waited till his -advice was invited. Like other wise husbands, he could read his wife's -face, and he saw that afternoon, two days before Christmas, as soon -as he entered the drawing-room, that there had been trouble in the -household. His kiss was received without response; her cheeks had the -suggestion of a flush; her lips were tightly drawn; and there was a -light in her eyes which meant defiance. She stated with emphasis, -in reply to a daily inquiry, that she was perfectly well, and that -everything had gone well that day. When she inquired why he should -suppose that anything was wrong, he knew that it had been a black storm, -and that the end thereof was not yet. - -"By the way, Flo,"--and Leslie congratulated himself on avoiding every -hidden rock,--"I've completed my list of Christmas presents, and I -flatter myself on one downright success, which suggests that I have -original genius." - -"Do you mean the picture of Soundbergh School for Jack?" said Mrs. -Leslie coldly. "I daresay he will be pleased, although I don't believe -that boys care very much for anything except for games and gingerbread -cakes; they are simply barbarians"; and as Leslie knew that his wife -had been ransacking London to get a natty portable camera wherewith -Jack might take bits of scenery, his worst-weather guess seemed to be -confirmed. - -"No, no, that was obvious, and I believe Jack will be fearfully proud of -his picture," replied Leslie bravely; "but I was at my wit's end to know -what to get for old Margaret. You see, I used to give her pincushions -and works of art from the Thames Tunnel when I was a little chap, and -I bought her boas and gay-coloured handkerchiefs when I came up at -Christmas from Oxford, and you know since she left the old home -and settled with us eighteen years ago we have exhausted the whole -catalogue." - -"You have, at least"; and having no clue, Leslie was amazed at his -wife's indifference to the factotum and ruler of the household, whom the -junior servants were obliged to call Mrs. Hoskins--"Mrs." being a title -of dignity, not of marriage--or Cook at the lowest, and who was called -everything by her old boy John Leslie and his son Jack, from Maggie to -Magsibus, and answered to anything by which her two masters chose to -name her. - -"Oh, you have been as keen as any one in the family about Magsy's -present,"--and Leslie still clung to hope,--"but I've walked out before -you all. What do you think of a first-class likeness of Spurgeon in an -oak frame, with his autograph? You know how she goes on about him, -and reads his sermons. It 'ill be hung in the place of honour in the -kitchen, with burnished tin and brass dishes on either side. Now, -confess, haven't I scored?" - -"If you propose to put your picture on her table on Christmas morning, -I fear you will be a day late, for Margaret has given up her place, and -asked to be allowed to leave to-morrow: she wants to bid Jack good-bye -before she goes," and Mrs. Leslie's voice was iced to twenty degrees -below freezing. - -"What do you mean?" cried Leslie, aghast, for in all his dark -imaginations he had never anticipated this catastrophe. "Maggie! -our Meg! leaving at a day's notice! It's too absurd! You've... had a -quarrel, I suppose, but that won't, come to anything. Christmas is -the time for... making up." - -"You do not know much about household management, John," Mrs. Leslie -explained with much dignity. "Mistresses don't quarrel with servants, -however much provoked they may be. If I have to find fault, I make a -rule of doing so quickly and civilly, and I allow no reply. It was -Margaret flung up her place with very unbecoming language; and you may -be sure this time there will be no 'making up,' as you call it. - -"What happened, Florence?" said John Leslie, with a note in his voice -which a woman never treats with disrespect. "You know I do not interfere -between you and the young servants, but Margaret has been with us since -we married, and before that was for sixteen years in my father's house. -We cannot part lightly; did she speak discourteously to you?" - -"I do not know what a man may call discourtesy, but Margaret informed -me that either she or the housemaid must leave, and that the sooner the -housemaid went the better for the house." - -"But I thought that the housemaid was a Baptist too, and that Margaret -and she got on capitally, and rather looked down on the waitress because -she was a Methodist." - -"So they did for a time, till they found out that they were different -kinds of Baptists, just imagine! They had such arguments in the kitchen -that Lucy has had to sit in her pantry, and last evening Margaret called -the housemaid a 'contracted Baptist,' and she said Margaret was a 'loose -Baptist.' So Margaret told me that if she was a 'loose Baptist,' it -was not good for the housemaid to stay in the house with her; and if I -preferred a woman like that, she would go at once, and so she is going." -"When men break on theology in the smoking-room," remarked Leslie, "the -wise go to bed at once, and two women--and one of them old Margaret--on -the distinctions among the Baptist denomination must be beyond words -and endurance. It is natural that places should be given up, but -not necessary that the offer should be accepted. What did you say to -Margaret, Florence?" - -"That she had secured the dismissal of five servants already within -three years: one because she was High Church; a second because she was -no Church; that big housemaid from Devon for no reason I could discover -except that she ate too much, as if we grudged food; the last waitress -because she did not work enough, as if that concerned her; and the one -before because she had a lover Margaret did not approve, and that I did -not propose to lose a good housemaid because she was not the same sort -of Baptist as Margaret. - -"It is very nice and romantic to talk about the old family servant," -continued Mrs. Leslie with a vibrant voice, "and I hope that I have not -been ungrateful to Margaret, but people forget what a mistress has to -suffer from the 'old family servant,' and I tell you, John, that I can -endure Margaret's dictation no longer. She must leave, or... I must"; -and when his wife swept out of the room to dress for dinner, Leslie knew -that they had come to a crisis in family life. - - -II - -"How are you, mummy?" and Jack burst in upon the delighted household -gathered in the hall with a trail of loosely packed luggage behind him, -and a pair of skates he had forgotten to pack altogether, round his -neck. "I say, that's a ripping dress you have on. Cusack, our house -'pre,' says yours is the prettiest photo he ever saw. You're looking -fit, pater, but you must come a trot with me, or you'll have a pot soon. -Jolly journey? Should rather think so! dressed old Swallow up in a -rug, and laid him out on a seat; people thought he had small-pox, and -wouldn't come in; four of us had the place to ourselves all the way: -foxey, wasn't it? Cold, not a bit. We shoved every hot-water pan in -below the seats, and the chaps put more in at every stop, till we had -eight in full blast. - -"Look out, cabby, and be kind to that hamper with my best china. What is -it? Oh, that's some really decent booze for the festivities--three dozen -Ripon stone ginger; and there's a dozen among my shirts. Can't get that -tipple in the South. How are you, Lucy and Mary? I've got a pair of -spiffing caps for you; do for church if you like. But where is the -youthful Marguerite? She used to be always dodging round, pretending -that she was just passing by accident. Dinner ready? All right; I'm -pretty keen, too. Tell Magsibus I'll be down after dessert with a -brimming bowl of stone ginger. - -"Hello, old lady! As you didn't come up to welcome the returning -prodigal at the door, he's come down to give you his blessing. It's all -right, Mag, I was only fooling. You daren't have taken your eye off that -pudding one minute, I know. It was A 1; best thing you ever did, and -awfully good to have it for the first night. - -"That gingerbread you sent took the cup this term, and no second. -Fellows offered to do my lines for me, and sucked up to me no end just -to get a slice. Ain't that the tin up there you make it in? Chap -next study had a thing he called gingerbread--feeblest show you ever -saw--burnt crust outside and wet dough inside. - -"There's the old brass jam-pan, Peg, ain't it? Do you remember when -Billy Poole and I used to help at the boiling, and get the skim for our -share? Billy's won a scholarship at Cambridge; youngest chap to take it, -and is a howling Greek swell, but you bet he hasn't forgot that hot -jam. Not he; was asking for you last week. I'll get him here next autumn -before he goes up, and we'll have a jam blow-out.... What's wrong, -Magsy? - -"Don't blub. Tell me who's been hitting you. Is it those two young -fools? The mater will soon settle their hash. Here's my handkerchief. -There, now you're all right, ar'n't you?" - -"It's really silly of me, Master Jack, and I ought to be ashamed of -myself, at my age too, but it was you speaking of next year. I thought -perhaps your mother had told you that... I am leaving tomorrow." - -"Going to leave us and your home?" and Jack sat down on the kitchen -table in stark amazement. "Where would you go to, Magsy? Why, you nursed -me when I was a kid, and you knew the pater when he was a fellow at -school. Why, you couldn't get on without us, and, look here, this circus -can't be worked without you. - -"If you don't feel fit for the cooking,--and it must be a beastly stew -over the fire,--mother'ill get another hand, and you'll just order her -round and have a good time." But Margaret sat with sad, despairing eyes, -looking straight before her, and making no sign. - -"You couldn't do it, Magsibus," and the lad came over and put his arm -round her; "it would be too mean. Didn't you promise to wait and start -house with me, the same as you did with father? and now you calmly -announce that you are going to set up for yourself, and be a lady. Oh, -you treacherous, wicked woman!" - -"Master Jack, I have not a relative living, and I couldn't go to another -place--I've been too long with one family--four-and-thirty years--and I -don't know what I'll do without the sight of you, for my heart has no -portion outside this house on earth; but I must go, I cannot do -otherwise, I must go. - -"You see, I'm getting old, dear, and I've been so long here that -I forget it's not my own house--God knows that I would die for you -all--and I have a temper, and I shall be... a trouble and not a help. -Your mother has been a good mistress to me, and been kinder to me than -I have been to her. I'll pray for you all as long as I live, and I would -like to... see you sometimes; but I must go, Master Jack, I must go." - - -III - -"It seems to me, Flo," and Leslie stretched out his legs in the warmth, -"the chief good of easy circumstances is being able to afford a -wood fire in one's bedroom,--that and books. Do you remember that -evil-smelling oil-stove in our little house at Islington? By the way, -did I tell you that I ran out one afternoon last week, when I had an -hour to spare, and paid an outside visit to our first home. It looked -rather forlorn, and so small and shabby." - -"It was the dearest little house when we lived in it, John," and Mrs. -Leslie saw wonderful things in the firelight; "and when you were at -the office I used to go from room to room, arranging and dusting and -admiring." - -"Yes, but you also had the most toothsome evening meals ready at eight -p.m. for a struggling colonial broker, and used to dress perfectly, and -did it all on next to nothing." - -"Two hundred and twenty-two pounds five shillings and threepence--that, -sir, was the first year's income. Don't you remember making up the book, -and finding we had thirty pounds over; but, then, Jack, we had... a -perfect servant." - -"Poor Margaret! what an interest she took in our daring enterprise! By -the way, your memory is better than mine, wife: didn't we tell her how -the balance stood, and she was the best pleased of the three?" - -"'Praise God!' she cried, 'I knew, Mr. John, you did right to trust and -to marry, and some day I'll see you in a big house, if God will'; and -then you told her to bring up her missionary box and you gave her a -sovereign, and when she put it in, her hand was shaking for joy. Her -temper has got masterful since she grew old, and she is aggravating; but -I know she's a good woman." - -"Yes, Meg wouldn't have left us if we had been down on our luck: I -believe she would have seen us through and gone without wages"; and -Leslie spoke with the tone of one hazarding a wild speculation. - -"You believe, John!" clever women are sometimes befooled. "Why, have you -forgotten that winter when you lost so heavily, and it looked as if we -would have to go into rooms, how Margaret wanted to go out cooking to -help the family, and she would have done it had not things taken a turn? -Whatever be her faults,--and she has been provoking,--she is a loyal -soul." - -"Well, we only had one bad illness, Flo, and I'll never forget the -mornings when I came from my lodgings and stood on the street, and you -told me what kind of night Jack had had, and the days when I toiled -at the office, and you fought scarlet fever at home. You were a brave -woman--without a nurse, too." - -"Without what--for shame, John!--when Maggie sat up all night and worked -all day, and was so clever that the doctor said she had saved Jack's -life--well, perhaps be admitted that I helped, but she did more than -I could--I would rather have let twenty housemaids go than see Maggie -leave, John, if she had given me the chance." - -"Margaret always had a temper, Flo, even in the old days when I was a -boy, and now she's fairly roused." - -"It isn't temper at all now, John, or I would not be so vexed: it's her -goodness which will drive her out in the end, and she'll never know -one day of happiness again. She told me to-night that she was sure that -there would always be trouble between her and the other servants, and as -she had tried to serve us well when she was younger she would not make -our home unhappy in her old age. Jack pleaded with her, and I--I nearly -cried; she was quite affected, too, but she is immovable." - -"Well, we can do no more, and you mustn't blame yourself, Flo: it has -just been a smash; and if she does go, we must see that she be made -comfortable in her last years. But I wish old Margaret were not leaving -us on Christmas Eve. Jack is very sick about it, and I rather suspect -that he was crying when I looked into his room just now; but he -pretended to be asleep, and I couldn't insult a fellow in the fifth form -with remarks." - - -IV - -When the Leslies set up house, eighteen years before, Margaret received -them on their return from their ten days' wedding tour in the Lake -District, and she was careful to ask in the evening whether Mr. John -would like prayers before or after breakfast next morning. She -also produced a book of family prayers, which she had purchased in -anticipation of the sole difficulty which is understood to prevent the -majority of male householders from having worship in their homes, and -asked her young master and mistress to accept it from her. So it came -to pass that owing to Margaret there were always morning prayers at the -Leslies'; and in observance of a custom begun when there were just the -three in the little house of Islington, fighting the battle of life -together, the chapter was read round, each person taking one verse in -turn. To-night Leslie divided his time between short snatches of sleep, -when he dreamt of funerals in which Margaret departed sitting beside the -driver of the hearse, while a mourning coach followed with her luggage -on the roof, and long periods of wakefulness when he regarded next -morning's prayers with dismay. Was there a special prayer for a servant -leaving her household after eighteen--no, thirty-four years' faithful -duty; and if there was not, could he weave in a couple of sentences -among the petitions? At half-past six he was certain that he could not, -and was ashamed at the thought that with that well worn prayer-book -of Margaret's before him he would allow her to depart without a -benediction, when he was visited quite suddenly, he declares, with the -most brilliant inspiration of his life. He leaped from bed and lit the -gas in hot haste, as poets are said to do when the missing word to rhyme -with Timbuctoo flashes upon the mind. - -"Florence, please tell me something"; and Mrs. Leslie saw her husband -standing by her bed in poorly concealed excitement. "Where are those -words that were sung at the sacred concert: 'Intreat me not to leave -thee'? I want to know at once; never mind why. Ruth? Thanks so much," and -the noise he made in his bath was audible through the wall, and was that -of a man in hot haste. - -When Mrs. Leslie came down, her husband had a marker in the Bible -projecting six inches, and was checking certain calculations on a sheet -of paper with much care. - -"Morning, Jack--slept well--not very? That's right, I mean I'm very -sorry, must have been the pudding. Not there, for any sake; sit here, -and, let me see--Florence, where are you wandering to? Take this chair. -Six, seven, eight... seventeen, yes, that's Margaret. Now ring the -bell." And Mrs. Leslie could only look at Leslie in silence, while Jack -felt that the firmament was being shaken that day, and one catastrophe -more did not matter. - -"We shall read," said the head of the household in a shaky voice, -"from--eh--the--eh--Book of Ruth, the first chapter and the sixth -verse"; and as soon as his wife saw the passage she understood, and so -did Margaret. - -Round the circle went the verses--Leslie very nervous lest he should -have miscalculated--till Jack read: - -"'And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from -following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou -lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my -God.'" - -Then it came to Margaret, and she began bravely, but soon weakened: -"Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried... the Lord do -so to me, and more also, if ought but death... part..." - -"Let us pray," said Leslie; and it is his fixed belief that, having lost -the place, he read the prayer for the close of the year and making an -attempt to right himself landed in a thanksgiving for the gift of a -new-born child; but nobody is certain and nobody cared. - -"I ought to go," said Margaret, standing very white by the sideboard -after the other servants had left the room, "and it would be better for -you all, whom I love, that I should go; but... I cannot, I can..." - -"Dear old Magsibus," and Jack had her round the waist before she could -say "not" again, or even explain, as she did afterwards, how good a -woman the housemaid was, and how much she would miss her; and as Mrs. -Leslie thought of the days they had been together, the saving the lad -from death and many another deed of loyal, ungrudging service, she -did that which was contrary to every rule of household discipline. But -Leslie could not have seen his wife kiss Margaret, for his back was -turned, and he was studying the snow-covered garden with rapt attention. - - - - -VII.--A RACONTEUR - -"You must excuse me the gaucherie of a compliment," I said to Bevan in -the smoking-room, after a very pleasant dinner, "but you have never been -more brilliant. Five stories, and each a success, is surely a record -even in your experience." - -"It is very good of you to appreciate my poor efforts so highly. I felt -it a distinct risk to attempt five in one evening--six is the farthest -limit sanctioned by any raconteur of standing. You can always -distinguish an artist from a mere amateur by his severe reserve. He -knows that an anecdote is a liqueur, and he offers it seldom; but the -other pours out his stuff like vin ordinaire, which it is, as a rule, -the mere dregs of the vine. Did you ever notice how a man will come back -from Scotland in autumn, and bore companies of unoffending people with a -flood of what he considers humorous Scottish stories? It is one of the -brutalities of conversation. What irritates me is not that the material -is Scottish, for there are many northern stories with a fine flavour; it -is the fellow's utter ignorance of the two great principles of our art." - -"Which are?" - -"Selection and preparation," said Bevan, with decision. "One must first -get good stuff, and then work it into shape. It is amazing how much is -offered and how little is of any use. People are constantly bringing me -situations that they think excellent, and are quite disappointed when -I tell them they are impossible for the purposes of art. Nothing can be -done with them, although of course another artist in a different line -might use them. Now I have passed several 'bits' on to Brown-Johnes, -who delivers popular lectures. The platform story is scene-painting, the -after-dinner miniature." - -"May I ask whether you are ever taken in, as it were, with your -material, and find it 'give' after it has been manufactured, like rotten -yarn or unseasoned wood?" - -"Rarely; one's eye gets to be trained so that you know a promising -subject at sight, but then comes the labour. I've heard a man bore a -dinner-table to the yawning point with a story that had some excellent -points in it, but he had taken no trouble, perhaps had no insight." - -"And you succeeded with it...?" - -"It is, in my humble judgment, as good a story of its kind now as you -would wish to hear, and it bears improvement, which is a good sign. A -really high-class story will take years to perfect, just as I am told -by clergymen that a sermon only begins to go after it has been preached -twenty times." - -"You have been working on that Shakespeare bit, by the way; I noticed at -least one new touch this evening which was excellent." - -"Now that is very gratifying," and Bevan was evidently pleased; "it is -a great satisfaction to have one's work appreciated in an intelligent -manner; perhaps you are the only one present who saw any difference. - -"What I think I like best"--and he tapped his snuff-box in a meditative -way--"is to get an old, decayed, hopeless story, and restore it. -Breaking out a window here, adding a porch there, opening up a room, and -touching up the walls--it is marvellous what can be done. Besides new -drains," he added, with significance, "the sanitary state of some of -those old stories is awful. You feel the atmosphere at the door--quite -intolerable, and indeed dangerous." - -"Then you do not think that indecency...?" - -"No, nor profanity. Both are bad art; they are cheap expedients, like -strong sauces to cover bad cooking. It sounds like boasting, but I have -redeemed one or two very unpleasant tales, which otherwise had been -uninhabitable, if I may trifle again with my little figure, and now are -charming." - -"You rather lean, one would gather, to old tales, while some of the -younger men are terrified of telling a 'chestnut,' always prefacing, -'This must be well known, but it is new to me; say at once if you have -heard it.'" - -"Most humiliating, and quite unworthy of an artist. Heard it before!" -and the old gentleman was full of scorn. "Imagine a painter apologizing -for having taken a bend of the Thames or a Highland glen some man had -used before. Of course, if one makes a copy of a picture and exhibits it -as his own, that is fraud, and the work is certain to be poor. One must -respect another artist's labour, which is the ground of his copyright. -But if one makes a 'bit' of life as old as Aristophanes or Horace his -own, by passing it through his own fancy and turning it out in his -own style, then it is ever new. Then there is the telling! There are -musicians who can compose, but who cannot play, and _vice versa_. So -with our art, there are story-tellers and story-makers. The former can -suffer no wrong, for they are self-protected, but the latter have never -been protected as they deserve in the fruit of their brains. You will -see at once that, if I am right, the ownership of an anecdote is quite -beyond dispute. The original material is really for the most part -common property, and usually very poor property--prairie land, in fact. -Personal rights come in when one has put capital into the land, has -cleared and ploughed and sown it; then it's his own, and he is entitled -to fence it, and he cannot be dispossessed except on fair terms." - -"Which would be?" - -"Well, that depends. He might sell to an editor, or he might give the -use of it to a friend. Personally, as an artist of now thirty years' -standing, I do not part with my work; it may be an old-fashioned -prejudice, but I don't like to let it go to the public." - -"But to a friend?" - -"Of course that is different; still, how few can be trusted. Now I once -gave Higginbotham a very nice little thing of French extraction, but not -too subtle, with just enough body to suit our palate. He beard me tell -it three times in exactly the same form, and I pledged him to make no -changes, for his hand is heavy. Would you believe me?"--and my friend -sat up in his indignation--"he gave it in my presence--but that did -not matter--and left out the best point, which I now think he had never -seen. Life has various trials in store for us as times go on," and Bevan -leant back again. "Some are greater, some are less, but among our minor -vexations I know none like sitting at one end of a table and making talk -with your partner, while a rank amateur at the other end mangles one of -your pet anecdotes." - -"Torture, I should think; but isn't it rather trying when people miss -the point altogether or ask stupid questions?" - -"Artists must take their chance of that, and one is careful; besides, -I've distinctly enjoyed such remarks," and he looked quite genial. "It's -like a painter hearing the people criticize the pictures on a free day. -Once or twice I've got a very happy addition to a story in that way. -After all, the main end of a raconteur must be to give pleasure. -Yes"--and he began to glow--"no art is wholesome which lives for itself -or for a professional class. Art must be a criticism of life and an aid -to better living. No one can tell how much story-telling has contributed -to the brightness and elevation of life. How? By correcting foibles, by -explaining human nature, by destroying cant, by infusing good humour, -by diminishing scandal, by--but I remind myself that a raconteur ought -never to be excited or eloquent. He may, however, be a philanthropist, -as it would appear. Do you know," with a tone of great delight, "that I -was once asked by a physician to call upon one of his patients, a mutual -friend, and spend an hour with him, as a... tonic, in fact. It was -after influenza, and the convalescent began by asking me whether I would -distribute a sum of money among the poor. 'I'm not sure what I'm dying -of; either peritonitis or pneumonia, but I'm glad to see you, Bevan, -and you will do this little kindness for me'--those were his affecting -words. 'Certainly,' I said, and that led me to give him a trifle from -Devonshire--excellent place for stories--which seemed to interest him. -I only told four stories--for he was rather weak, having had a slight -touch of bronchitis--and he is pleased still to thank me," and Bevan -nodded with much satisfaction. - -As I looked at him, so filled with the pride of his art, the time seemed -to have come for a question that had long been in my mind. But it was -necessary to be careful. - -"What, may I ask, Mr. Bevan, do you feel about the matter of... well, -you won't misunderstand me... of accuracy?" - -"You mean whether is there any difference between giving evidence in -a witness-box and relating an anecdote. Everything. The one is a land -surveyor's plan, and must be correct to an inch. The other is a picture, -and must interpret nature. The one is a matter of fact, the other a work -of art. Imagine the folly"--and the good man rose to his feet--"if one -should demand to know whether the figures in a historical painting stood -exactly so and were dressed in those particular colours; we should think -the man mad. A story is a miniature novel, shot through with humour, a -morsel of the irony of things, a tiny comedy, and for it there is but -one rule of judgment--does it represent the spirit of life?" - -"What then do you think of one who should certify an anecdote as a -fact?" - -"That he did not know his craft, for if the tale has no merit, then it -is little compensation to tell us it happened; if it has merit, we are -sure it ought to have happened." - -"And if one should interrupt a raconteur as he approached his point, and -should inquire whether the thing be true?" - -"I am a merciful man," said the venerable artist, "but my conviction is -that he ought to be shot." - - - - -VIII.--WITH UNLEAVENED BREAD - - -RABBI SAUNDERSON, minister of Kilbogie, had been the preacher on the -fast day before Carmichaele's first sacrament in the Glen, and, under the -full conviction that he had only been searching out his own sins, the -old man had gone through the hearts of the congregation as with the -candle of the Lord, till Donald Menzies, who had all along suspected -that he was little better than a hypocrite, was now fully persuaded that -for him to take the sacrament would be to eat and drink condemnation -to himself, and Lauchlan Campbell was amazed to discover that a mere -Lowland Scot like the rabbi was as mighty a preacher of the law as the -chief of the Highland host. The rabbi had been very tender withal, so -that the people were not only humbled, but also moved with the honest -desire after better things. - -Although it was a bitter day, and the snow was deep upon the ground, the -rabbi would not remain over-night with Carmichael. Down in Kilbogie an -old man near fourscore years of age was dying, and was not assured of -the way everlasting, and the rabbi must needs go back through the snow -that he might sit by his bedside and guide his feet into the paths of -peace. All that night the rabbi wrestled with God that it might be His -good pleasure to save this man even at the eleventh hour; and it was one -of the few joys that visited the rabbi in his anxious ministry, that, -before the grey light of a winter morning came into that lowly room, -this aged sinner of Kilbogie had placed himself within the covenant of -grace. - -While he was ministering the promises in that cottage, and fighting a -strong battle for an immortal soul, Carmichael had sent away his dogs, -and was sitting alone in the low-roofed study of the Free Kirk manse, -with the curtains drawn and the wood fire lighting up the room--for he -had put out the lamp--but leaving shadows in the corners where there -were no books, and where occasionally the red paper loomed forth like -blood. - -As the rabbi preached that day, the buoyancy and self-confidence of -youth had been severely chastened, and sitting in the manse pew, -curtained off from the congregation, the conscience of the young -minister had grown tender. It was a fearful charge to lay on any man, -and he only four-and-twenty years of age, the care of human souls; and -what manner of man must he be who should minister unto them after a -spiritual sort the body and blood of Jesus Christ? How true must be his -soul, and how clean his hands! For surely, if any man would be damned -in this world, and in that which is to come, it would be the man who -dispensed the sacrament unworthily. - -As he sat in the firelight the room seemed to turn into a place of -judgment. Round the walls were the saints of the Church Catholic, and -St. Augustine questioned him closely regarding the evil imagination -of youthful days, and Thomas a Kempis reproached him because he had so -often flinched in the way of the holy cross. Scottish worthies whose -lives he had often read, and whose sayings had been often quoted from -the pulpit, sat in judgment upon him as to his own personal faith and -to his own ends in the ministry. Samuel Rutherford, with his passionate -letters, reproached him for his coldness towards Christ; and MacCheyne's -life, closed in early manhood, and filled with an unceasing hunger -for the salvation of human souls, condemned him for his easy walk and -conversation; and Leighton, the gentlest of all the Scotch saints, made -him ashamed of bitter words and resentful feelings. And from the walls -the face of his mother's minister regarded him with wistful regret, and -seemed to plead with him to return to his first love and the simplicity -of his mother's faith. - -The roof hung heavy over his head, and the walls took a deeper red, -while the burning logs reminded him of the consuming fire. An owl -hooted outside--a weird and mournful cry--and to the mind of a Celt -like Carmichael it seemed to be a warning to set his house in order. He -crossed to the window, which faced west, and commanded a long stretch -of Glen, and, standing within the curtain, he looked out upon the clear -winter night. How pure was the snow, putting all other white to shame! -How merciless the cold light of the moon, that flung into relief the -tiniest branches of the trees! "Holiness be-cometh thine house, O Lord, -for ever." And he was a minister of the Word and sacrament! The people -had been called unto repentance, but he needed most of all the contrite -heart. The people had been commanded to confess their sins; it were time -that he began. - -He knelt at his table, bending his head over the very place where he -wrote his sermons, and as he prayed before God the sins of early years -came up before him, and passed as in a woful procession--ghosts which -had risen from their graves, in which they had long been hid beneath -the green grass and the flowers. There remained nothing for him but -to acknowledge them one by one with shame and confusion of face, and -behold! as he did so, and humbled himself before the Lord, they vanished -from his sight till he hoped that the last of them had come and gone. -When it seemed to him as if one had lingered behind the rest, and -desired to see him quite alone, and when the shroud fell down, he looked -into the face of one who had been his friend in college days, and then -he knew that all which had gone before was only a preparation, and this -was now his testing time. - -It was a mighty college to which Carmichael had belonged, and the men -thereof had been lifted high above their fellows, and among them all -there had been none so superior as this man who was once his friend. -Some he looked down upon because they were uncouth in manner; and some -because they were deficient in scholarship; and others, who were neither -ill-bred nor unlearned, he would have nothing to do with because they -had not the note of culture, but were Philistine in their ideas of art -and in their ignorance of "precious" literature. - -In spite of all this foolishness, the root of the matter was in -Frederick Harris. No man had a keener sense of honour, no man was more -ready to help a fellow-student, none worked harder in the mission of the -college, none lived a simpler life. Yet because he was without doubt a -superior person, even beyond all other superior persons--and the college -was greatly blessed with this high order of beings--certain men were -blind to his excellences, and cherished a dull feeling of resentment -against him; and there were times when Carmichael dared to laugh at -him, whereat Harris was very indignant, and reproached him for vulgar -frivolity. - -One day a leaflet was found in every class-room of the college, and in -the dining-hall, and in the gymnasium, and in every other room--even, it -is said, in the Senate-room itself. Its title was, _A Mighty Young Man_, -and it was a merciless description of Harris in verse, from the crown of -his head to the sole of his foot, in all his ways and words--coarse and -insulting, but incisive and clever. He was late in entering the Hebrew -class-room that morning, and was soon conscious that the students were -interested in other things besides the authorship of the Pentateuch. -Opposite him lay the poem, and, after he had read the first verse, his -face turned to a fiery red, and then he left the class-room with much -dignity. - -It had been better for himself, and it would have saved much sorrow to -Carmichael, if Harris had treated the poem with indifference; but, like -many other people who allow themselves the luxury of despising their -fellow-creatures, he was morbidly sensitive when his fellow-creatures -turned on him. For some reason, known only to himself, he concluded that -Carmichael had written the poem, and demanded an apology with threats; -and Carmichael, who had thought the thing in very poor taste, and would -have been willing to laugh at it along with Harris, was furious that -he should have been supposed guilty of such a breach of friendship. So, -being a Celt, who acts by impulse rather than by reason, he told Harris -in the Common Hall that, if he supposed that he had written the sheet, -he was at liberty to do so, and need not expect either a denial or an -apology. - -They never spoke again, nor met except in a public place, and when -Carmichael was ordained minister in the Glen, Harris joined a mission -settlement in one of the lowest quarters of a southern city. - -From time to time Carmichael read greedily of his heroic service, and -the power which he was acquiring--for he had never been haughty with -poor people, but ever with them most gentle and humble. Again and again -it had been laid on Carmichael to write to his old friend, and express -regret for his pride, and assure him of his innocence in the matter of -the squib, but he thought that Harris ought first to write to him, and -then, if he did, Carmichael meant to telegraph, and invite his friend -to come up to the Glen, where they would renew the fellowship of former -days. But Harris gave no sign, and Carmichael had no need to telegraph. - -Carmichael rose from his knees, and opened a drawer in his -writing-table, and from below a mass of college papers took out a -photograph. The firelight was enough to show the features, and -memory did the rest. They had once shared rooms together, and a more -considerate chum no man could have. They had gone on more than one -walking tour together, and never once had Harris lost his temper; they -had done work together in a mission school, and on occasion Harris had -been ready to do Carmichael's as well as his own; they had also prayed -together, and there was no pride in Harris when he prayed. - -What were his faults, after all? A certain fastidiousness of -intellect, and an unfortunate mannerism, and a very innocent form of -self-approbation, and an instinctive shrinking from rough-mannered -men--nothing more. There was in him no impurity, nor selfishness, nor -meanness, nor trickiness, nor jealousy, nor evil temper. And this -was the man--his friend also--to whom he had refused to give the -satisfaction of an explanation, and whom he had made to suffer bitterly -during his last college term. And just because Harris was of porcelain -ware, and not common delf, would he suffer the more. - -He had refused to forgive this man his trespass, which was his first -transgression against him, and now that he thought of it, hardly to -be called a transgression. How could he ask God to forgive him his own -trespasses? and if he neither forgave nor was forgiven, how dare he -minister the sacrament unto his people? He would write that night, and -humble himself before his friend, and beseech him for a message, however -brief, that would lift the load from off his heart before he broke bread -in the sacrament. - -Then it came to his mind that no letter could reach that southern town -till Saturday morning, and therefore no answer come to him till Monday, -and meanwhile who would give the people the sacrament, and how could -he communicate himself? For his own sin, his foolish pride and fiery -temper, would fence the holy table and hinder his approach. He must -telegraph, and an impression took hold upon his heart that there must be -no delay. The clock in the lobby--an eight-day clock that had come -from his mother's house, and seemed to him a kind of censor of his -doings--struck three, for the hours had flown in the place of judgment, -and now the impression began to deepen that there was not an hour to be -lost. He must telegraph, and as the office at Kilbogie would be open -at five o'clock to dispatch a mail, they would send a wire for him. It -would be heavy walking through the snow, but the moon was still up, and -two hours were more than enough. - -As he picked his way carefully where the snow had covered the ditches, -or turned the flank of a drift, he was ever grudging the lost time, and -ever the foreboding was deeper in his heart that he might be too late, -not for the opening of Kilbogie post-office, but for something else--he -knew not what. So bravely had he struggled through the snow that it was -still a quarter to five when he passed along sleeping Kilbogie; and so -eager was he by this time that he roused the friendly postmaster, and -induced him by all kinds of pleas, speaking as if it were life and -death, to open communication with Muirtown, where there was always a -clerk on duty, and to send on to that southern city the message he had -been composing as he came down through the snow and the woods: - -"It was not I. I could not have done it. Forgive my silence, and send a -message before Sunday, for it is my first sacrament in Drumtochty. - -"Your affectionate friend, - -"John Carmichael." - -It was still dark when he reached the manse again, and before he fell -asleep he prayed that the telegram might not be too late, but as he -prayed, he asked himself what he meant, and could not answer. For the -Celt has warnings other men do not receive, and hears sounds they do not -hear. - -It was noon next day, the Saturday before the sacrament, and almost time -for the arrival of the preacher, before he awoke, and then he had -not awaked unless the housekeeper had brought him this telegram from -"Mistress Harris, St. Andrew's Settlement, Mutford, E.": - -"My son Frederick died this morning at eight o'clock of malignant fever. -He was conscious at the end, and we read your telegram to him. He sent -this message: 'Long ago I knew it was not you, and I ought to have -written. Forgive me, as I have forgiven you. My last prayer is for a -blessing upon you and your people in the sacrament to-morrow. God be -with you till we meet at the marriage supper of the Lamb!'" - -The text which Carmichael took for his action sermon on the morrow was, -"Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them who trespass against us," -and he declared the forgiveness of sins with such irresistible grace -that Donald Menzies twice said "Amen" aloud, and there are people who -will remember that day unto the ages of ages. - - - - -IX.--OUR FOREIGN MANNERS - - -IF a student of life will only take his stand in the hall of one of -those Swiss caravansaras which receives a trainful of Britons about -six o'clock some evening in August and despatches them on their way by -Diligence next morning, he will not lose his time, for he will have an -opportunity of studying the foreign manners of his nation. The arrival -of an Englishman of the John Bull type is indeed an event, and the place -is shaken as by a whirlwind. A loud, clear, strident voice is heard -sounding in the English tongue to the extremities of the hall, demanding -that its owner be instantly taken to the rooms--"First floor," I said, -"with best view, according to the telegram sent yesterday," refusing -every explanation as to there being none disengaged, insisting that, -somehow or other, rooms of that very kind be offered, and then grumbling -its way upstairs, with an accompaniment in the minor key from a -deprecating landlord, till a distant rumble dying away into the silence -closes the incident. The landlord has reluctantly admitted that he has -rooms on the second floor, better than any other in the house, which are -being kept for a Russian prince, and if Monsieur will accept them for -the night--and then Monsieur calls his wife's attention to the fact -that when he put his foot down he gets his way. One does not, of course, -believe that the landlord said what was absolutely true, and one would -have been delighted had he plucked up courage and shown our compatriot -to the door. But nothing is easier (and more enjoyable) than to point -out how other people ought to conduct their affairs, and no doubt, -were we Swiss innkeepers, needing to make a year's profit out of three -months, we also would have taken rampant Englishmen by guile, as bulls -are lassoed with ropes. Your heart would be adamant if you did not -pardon the poor little device when our national voice is again raised in -the dining-room ordering away a plate on account of an invisible smut, -complaining of the wine because of a bit of cork, comparing the beef -with the home roasts, and enlarging on a dozen defects in bedroom -service to sympathetic spirits right and left, and, for that matter, -as far as the voice can reach. In England that voice will give it to -be understood that it could not be heard amid the chatter of noisy -foreigners "gabbling away goodness knows what," but as a matter of -fact no combination of German, French, and Italian could resist the -penetrating, domineering, unflinching accent. When that host bows the -voice into an omnibus next morning with great politeness, then one -has an illustration of the spread of the Christian spirit enough to -reinforce the heart in the hours of blackest pessimism. - -Would a foreigner believe that the owner of this terrible voice is -really one of the best? He is the soul of honour, and would cut off his -hand rather than do a mean deed; his servants adore him, though he gives -them what he calls a round of the guns once a week; and the last thing -he did before leaving home was to visit an old gamekeeper who taught -him to shoot the year he went to Harrow. When a good man preaches the -charity sermon, this unsympathetic Englishman is quite helpless, and -invariably doubles the sum set aside in his waistcoat pocket. Upon -the bench he is merciless on poachers and tramps; in private he is the -chosen prey of all kinds of beggars. In fact, he is in one way just what -he specially detests--a sham--being the most overbearing, prejudiced, -bigoted, the most modest, simple-minded, kind-hearted of men; and, in -spite of that unchastened voice, a gentleman from the crown of his head -to the sole of his foot. Certainly he ordereth over much, but he will -take care that every servant has a reward before he leaves--going back -from the omnibus to tip "that fellow with the green apron" who did -some trifle for him last night--and if the landlord had only had the -discernment to have described that accident to him, the driver's widow -would have been richer by fifty francs. - -The blame of our foreign manners is partly geographical. We happen to -be bom in an island, and our amazing ideas about continentals are being -very slowly worn away by travel. It is just breaking on the average -Briton that, although a foreigner does not splash in his bath of -a morning so that neighbouring rooms can follow the details of his -toilette, he may not be quite uncleanly; that one need not hide all -his valuables beneath his pillow because the other three men in his -compartment of the wagon lit do not speak English; that an Italian -prince is not always a swindler, but may have as long a pedigree as -certain members of the House of Lords; and that the men who constructed -the Mont Cenis and St. Gothard tunnels must at least have understood -the rudiments of engineering science. The puzzled expression on our -countryman's face when he discovers that the foreigner can give us -points--in conveyance of luggage, for instance, or the making of coffee, -or in the small agriculture--goes to your heart. It seems to him a -surprise on the part of Providence, and a violation of the favoured -nation's clause. - -Perhaps it ought also to be said in our defence that we are afflicted by -the infirmities of a ruling people. We are not only profoundly conscious -that we are an invincible nation ourselves, but also are saturated -with the belief that we have a commission to govern other nations. Our -talents are mostly exercised in India and Africa, but if one reigns -absolutely anywhere, he carries himself as a king everywhere, and the -ordinary Englishman annexes any place he fancies in holiday time because -his fathers have been appropriating provinces from time immemorial. One -sometimes falls a prey to the Philistine that is in us all, and begins -also to despise what our friend pleasantly calls "all this scraping and -bowing," by which he means a Frenchman's politeness in little things, -and is tempted to think that it would be better if local government on -the Continent were relieved of a burden of petty rules and a host -of gorgeous officials, and were reinforced by a strong infusion of -downright common sense. One means, in plain words, that if a foreign -district were handed over to an English stipendiary magistrate and a -score of London policemen, its people would learn for the first time the -scope and meaning of good government. - -Many well-doing Englishmen cannot unto this day achieve a single -grammatical sentence in any language except their own, and are free -from all pretensions. Our rector stoutly declares that in his popular -lecture, "To Paris and back, or a Glimpse of French Life," he did not -cite the familiarity of Parisian children with French as a proof of -the precocity of foreigners, but he can never watch two Frenchmen -in conversation without innocent enjoyment. The sounds they make are -marvellous, but it is beyond question that they mean something, and it -is pleasant to know that persons who cannot speak English are not left -without means of communication. Foreigners, an Englishman remembers, -labour under hopeless disabilities. Little can be expected from a people -whose language permits a sentence--in a scientific book too--to end with -"zu, ab," and one may not be Pharisaic and yet have gloomy views--this -illustration can be used in the pulpit--about a nation that has no word -for home. One of our French class at school, a stout gentleman now, and -worth L100,000, declares he would never demean himself by any attempt -at foreign tongues, and demands that foreigners should learn English, -"which will yet be the language of the world." He was recently boasting -that he had travelled a month by the aid of signs, although he does -himself less than justice, for on sight of the railway station he will -say "Bannhof, eh?" to the driver in quite a jocular way, as one by way -of pleasing a four-footed pet. - -Tittups, on the other hand, who reached the confines of the future tense -with Moossy, and who affects culture, is understood to have an easy -acquaintance with at least three Continental tongues in their more -literary forms--colloquialisms he firmly refuses--and is worth hearing -in a Florentine shop. "Avete voi" (Tittups is a little man, with a -single eyeglass, and a voice three sizes too large for him); "ah... what -you call... ah, papier und... ah, ein, that is eine Feder," goes through -a panto-mine of writing, and finally obtains what he wants by pointing -it out with his stick. He is fond of enlarging on the advantage of -reading Italian, and insists that no translation has ever conveyed the -grander ideas of Dante, although Tittups admits that the ancient Italian -tries him. "Have to work at it, you know; but the modern, a boy who knows -his grammar can manage it. Seen the _Giomate di Roma_ to-day?" Italians -have a keener insight into character than any people in Europe, and -one could almost pardon the attendant in the Mediterranean sleeper who -insisted that Tittups must be a native-born Tuscan from the way he said -"baga-glia." - -"Gli," Tittups mentioned casually to a friend, is a test in Italian -pronunciation, and he presented the discerning critic with a five-franc -piece at Calais. - -But why should the average man laugh at Tittups, as if he had never had -experiences? Has he never been asked by his companion, to whom he has -been an oracle on German literature, to translate some utterly absurd -and unnecessary piece of information posted on the carriage, and been -humbled in the dust? - -"Oh," he said, quite carelessly, "something about not leaving the train -when it is in motion--zug, you know." - -"Pardon, mein Herr" (voice from the opposite side--what business had he -to interfere?) "but the rule, when it has into English been translated, -shall read------" and it turns out to be a warning not to stop the -train without "plausible" reasons. Nothing is more disconcerting (and -offensive) than to discover that the two imperturbable Germans in your -carriage understand English perfectly, after you have been expressing -your mind on German habits with that courtesy and freedom which are the -prerogative of the Briton abroad. And can anything be more irritating -and inexplicable than to find one's painfully accumulated store of -foreign words ooze away in the crisis of travel, so that a respectable -British matron, eager to be driven by the sea road at Cannes, is -reduced to punching cocher in the small of the back with her parasol and -shouting "eau de vie"--"and he drew up at a low public-house, as if we -had been wanting a drink"--while her husband just escapes an apoplectic -seizure, utilizing the remnants of three languages to explain his -feelings as a Custom-house officer turns the contents of his portmanteau -upside down. - -It is not wise, however, for avaricious foreigners to trade upon our -simplicity, for there is always a chance that they may catch a Tartar. -Never have I seen a more ingenuous youth (in appearance) than one who -travelled with me one night from Geneva to Paris. His unbroken ignorance -of Continental ways, which opposed (successfully) the introduction of -more than four persons into our second; his impenetrable stupidity, -which at last saved him from the Customs; his unparalleled atrocities -on the French language, seemed to precede him on the line and suggest -opportunities of brigandage. They charged him eighteen francs for his -supper at a place where we stopped for nearly twenty minutes, and would -likely have appropriated the remaining two francs out of the Napoleon -he offered, but the bell sounded, and he bolted, forgetting in his -nervousness that he had not paid. The garcon followed, whom he failed to -understand, and three officials could not make the matter plainer. -When the public meeting outside our door reached its height there were -present the station-master, seven minor officials, two gendarmes -in great glory, a deputation of four persons from the buffet, an -interpreter whose English was miraculous, and a fringe of loafers. -Just as the police were about to do their duty our fellow passenger -condescended on French--he had preferred English words with foreign -terminations up to that point. His speech could not have exceeded three -minutes, but it left nothing to be desired. It contained a succinct -statement of facts--what he had eaten, and how much each dish cost; -what he was charged, and the exact difference between the debt and the -demand; an appeal to the chef de gare to investigate the conduct of the -buffet where such iniquities were perpetrated on guileless Englishmen; -and lastly a fancy sketch of the garcon's life, with a selection -of Parisian terms of abuse any two of which were enough to confer -distinction for a lifetime. He concluded by offering three francs, -forty-five cents, as his just due to the manager of the buffet, and his -thanks to the audience for their courteous attention. - -"I am an Englishman by birth," he explained to a delighted compartment, -"but Parisian by education, and I think this incident may do good." - -Certainly it has often done one man good, and goes excellently with -another where imagination reinforces memory with happy effect. One had -a presentiment something was going to happen when two devout ladies -secured their places in the Paris express at Lourdes, and before they -entered placed the tin vessel with water from the sacred well on the -floor of the compartment. It was certainly unfortunate that they did not -keep it in their arms till the precious treasure could be deposited in -the rack. Lourdes pilgrims would recognize the vessel even in its state -of temporary humiliation, but there was a distinct suggestion of humbler -uses, and an excited Englishman must not be hardly judged. - -"Here you are, dear," he shouts to his wife, guarding the rugs; "plenty -of room, and a hot water pan for your feet." - -They all got in together--two Parisian ladies, who (likely) could not -speak a word of English, and our fellow patriot, who was (likely) as -ignorant of French. And the tin vessel. - -Did they lift it with reverence and fold it in many wraps, and did he -fight for its possession? Are they still describing the wanton impiety -of this heretic? and has he a conclusive illustration of the incredible -folly of our neighbours? Perhaps, after all, they knew each other's -tongues, and then nothing happened; but surely there must have been -circumstances, and I, with a spare moment at my disposal occasionally, -refused to be robbed of that interior. - - - - -X.--NILE VIEWS - - -IF one has only three weeks' holiday, and desires sunshine for his body, -let him spend the time upon the Riviera, where he will get a few degrees -higher temperature and a little more sunshine than in Cornwall--with -worse food and a more treacherous climate--and if he rather desires -inspiration for his mind, let him go to Florence; but in any case let -him understand that there is no place in Europe where one can get equal -good both for mind and body, and no place where one can escape winter. -Upon this matter doctors dream dreams and invalids fondly talk against -facts, for the cold in Florence, say, in the month of February, is quite -monumental for its piercing quality, and bad weather on the Riviera is -more cheerless than a wet day in the West Highlands, since in the latter -case you can get a decent fire during the day, and in the evening -you may have a sunset to remember for life. If, however, through any -conjunction of favourable circumstances, a man has six weeks at his -disposal in winter time (it is not likely he will have this very often -in the present vale of tears), then let him take his courage in both his -hands, and go to the Nile. Suppose he had three months, and were a good -sailor, then he ought to join a P. and O. liner at London, and go the -long sea voyage, for there is a chance, even in December or January, -that he might have summer weather on the fickle Mediterranean, and--such -things have happened--across the Bay. But with half that, time his plan -is to go by the special boat express to Marseilles, and join his steamer -there for Port Said; or, if he be hopelessly in fear of the sea, and -wishes to save every hour for Egypt, to take the Brindisi mail, and -cross to Port Said by one of the two passenger torpedo boats which make -the passage between Italy and Egypt in about forty-eight hours either -over the sea or through it. - -Until it has been completely rebuilt after Western fashions, and -electric trolley cars are running down a widened Mooskee, and the men -have given up the tarboosh and the women their veil, Cairo will always -fascinate a European by its Eastern atmosphere. Sitting on the verandah -before his hotel, and looking over the heads of a herd of dragomen, -guides, pedlars, and beggars, he will see a panorama pass. A Pasha's -carriage, with a running footman in front, and the great man within, -mourning the restraints of European government; a camel from the -outlands laden with fresh green grass; a water-seller with his -leather barrel upon his back; a company of Egyptian soldiers, marching -admirably, and looking as if they could go anywhere; working women in -dark blue, with only their eyes visible, which are said to be the single -beautiful feature they possess; a closed carriage, with two ladies of -a great man's harem; a miscellaneous crowd of sellers of many articles, -shouting their goods, and workmen of many trades carrying things they -have made; a Bedouin from the desert in his white flowing robes, tall -and stately, and a Nubian as black as ebony from up country, with people -of all shades between white and black, and in all colours; here and -there a European tourist looking very much out of place in his unsightly -garments, and a couple of Highland soldiers looking as if the whole -place belonged to them. And if one desires to bathe in the life of -the place, then he can spend a day drifting up and down the Mooskee, -plunging down side alleys, attending native auctions, watching street -dramas, bargaining in bazaars, and visiting mosques; but the wise man -who is seeking for rest will not abide long in Cairo. Its air is close -and not invigorating, its smells innumerable and overpowering, its -social occupations wearisome and exacting, and its fleas larger, -hungrier, more impudent, and more insinuating than those of any other -place I have ever known. When the visitor has seen the citadel--and -sunset from the citadel is worth the journey to Cairo--and half a -dozen of the grander mosques, and the Pyramids and the great Museum of -Egyptian Antiquities, then, although it may be difficult to resist the -delightful hospitality of the English community, military and civil, the -traveller had better start by the Nile for Upper Egypt. - -Nothing surely can be so restful as life on a Nile boat, where one lies -at his ease upon the deck with some book like _Pyramids in Progress_ in -his hand, and watches the procession along the banks of men, women, and -children, donkeys, camels, cattle, and occasionally horses, which -goes on from Cairo to Assouan, and, so far as I know, to Khartoum, and -looking into the far distances of the desert, across the strip of green -on either side of the river, and listening to the friendly sound of the -water wheels which distribute the Nile through the parched ground, and -then standing to see the blood-red sunset fade into orange and green -and violet, while the river turns into that delicate and indescribable -colour which, for want of some other word, is known as water-of-Nile. -The river itself takes hold of the imagination, whose origin has been -a historical mystery, on whose rise and fall the welfare of a country -depends, which carries the fertility of Egypt in its bosom, and on which -nations depend for their very life. No wonder it runs as a blue streak -through the frescoes in the tombs, and is never away from the thoughts -of the painters, for the Nile runs also through the life of the people. -It is the great highway up which the native boats sail their skilful -course driven by the north wind, down which they drop laden with produce -or pottery. It gives them the soil they till, which is rich enough to -bear twelve harvests a year, if crops could be ripened in a month. Upon -its banks the people sit as at their club; they bring down their -cattle to water at it, they wash in the Nile, both themselves and their -clothes, they swim and dive in the Nile as if they had been bom in it, -and they drink its thick, brown, sweet water with such relish that a -native Egyptian resents the idea of a filter because it takes away from -him the very joy of taste, and laughs at the idea of danger from his -loved Nile, which may give typhoid fever to Western tourists, but will -never do any injury to its own children. - -After sugar cane and doora, the chief product of the steaming, prolific -Nile valley is the Fellaheen, who are not the descendants of the ancient -Egyptians, a lineage justly claimed by the Copts, but who are the -Egyptian people of to-day. The Fellah is the absolute creature of his -environment, an offspring of Nile mud, and when he is working on his -field, in the garments nature gave him, can hardly be distinguished -from the soil. He is brown, well-built, enduring, with perfect teeth and -excellent health. His home is a mud hut, with one room where he and his -family eat, and another where they sleep, and a courtyard inhabited by -the livestock of goats, donkeys, cocks and hens, pigeons, and a dog. It -is thatched with palm branches or doora straw, and on the roof the dog -will promenade in the daytime with great dignity, and from the roof, -when the moon is shining, and thoughts occur to his mind, he will -express himself to the other seventy-six dogs of the village who are -on their roofs, and are also moved to speech, with the result that no -European can sleep in the vicinity. Add a few vessels and mats by way -of furniture to the inside of the hut, and build a mud jar on the top -of the courtyard wall where the baby of the family can be put in safety, -and the household equipment of the Fellah is complete. He is very -ignorant, is not very keen about his religion, has no principles, except -a habit of industry and a keen sense of property, and he has not one -comfort or luxury of civilization, and not one political or national -ambition. But he has all the clothes he needs, which certainly is not -very much; he has plenty to eat, and for drink the endlessly delightful -Nile water; he is very seldom cold, and he has sunshine from January to -December, and from morning to night. Thanks to England, he is no longer -dragged away to work upon canals and public enterprises without wages -and without food, and to perish through toil and disease as his father -did, but is now paid and cared for when working for the community. He is -no longer in terror of the lash, and he is not robbed by his rulers; he -gets justice at the courts, and is now being delivered from the hands -of the money-lender, that terror of the East, by the excellent national -bank which has been recently established, and which advances him money -on reasonable terms. We pity him as we pass, toiling at his shadoof, -or coming like a rabbit out of his burrow, because he works so hard -and lives so plainly, and has no books and no vote, and no glass in his -windows, and no cheap trips. But perhaps we had better reserve our pity -for the home land. One does not see in the Arab village the ignoble -squalor of a town slum, nor the dreary, hopeless poverty, nor the evil -look of degraded people, nor the miserable intemperance. The Fellah does -not stand very high in the evolution of society, and neither his wife -nor his child is particularly fortunate; one would not wish to be a -Fellah, but, at any rate, he does not know the pinch of want, he is -on good terms with everybody, he has a ready joke, which perhaps it is -better you do not understand, and a quick smile; he is a well-fed and -contented animal. - -The Fellah can be studied near at hand in your donkey boy, who is simply -a Nile peasant quickened by contact with Europeans. Within five minutes -he sizes you up with unerring judgment, and knows whether he can get -baksheesh from you by annoyance, or will fare better by leaving you in -peace; whether he can do as he pleases with you in the matter of speed, -or whether it will be better to do as you tell him. Once you are on -good terms with him--have learned the name of the donkey, approved the -donkey's excellence and his own, and settled whether you are going to -race or not--he settles down to make the journey agreeable both for -himself and you. He will make jests about every little incident, join -in the chorus of English songs, give information, such as he can, on -antiquities, and delight to teach you Arabic. Suppose you have a long -wait somewhere, and time is dragging, two of the junior donkey boys -will improvise a play. They will get up a fight, and after cuffing one -another in a way that would almost deceive you into the belief that they -were serious, one will knock the other down, and the fallen hero will -look as dead as Rames es the Great. A crowd will gather round him, -lifting a leg or an arm, which falls heavily to the ground, raising his -head, which rolls helplessly to the side. Horrified, they will then look -at one another, and shake their heads; they will cover the dead man's -face, and proceed to carry him home. By-and-by they will have a funeral, -and convey the corpse to the cemetery with wailing and weeping, and -after it has been solemnly laid to rest there will be a rapid and -delightful resurrection. The mourners will turn a set of somersaults -with extraordinary rapidity, the murderer and his victim will give -a gymnastic exhibition, and then the whole company, having raised an -enthusiastic hip, hip, hurrah! in applause for their own drama and as -a genial tribute to the Anglo-Saxon race, will stand opposite you in a -body with the most solemn countenance and demand baksheesh. - -Like other folk, the donkey boys have their own trials, and I am still -sorry for Hassan, who attended me for four days at Luxor, and with whom -I became very friendly. His donkey was called Telephone, and was very -strong, handsome, and well caparisoned, and had, indeed, only one vice, -and that was that he would not go slowly, although the thermometer -stood at 130 degrees in the sun, but insisted on leading the procession. -Hassan had just married, and was never weary of describing the beauty -and goodness of his sixteen-year-old bride, and he was greatly lifted -when I sent home to her by his own hand a present of a silk headdress--I -think at least that was what the silk would be used for--such as I was -assured by a native friend the young women of that ilk greatly loved. -Hassan parted with me in high spirits when I went up the river, and I -promised that, on my third visit to Egypt, which will likely never take -place, I would ride no other donkey but "Telephone," and have no other -footman but Hassan. And then tidings reached me at Assouan that the poor -bridegroom had been drawn for the army. For thirteen years he would have -to serve, partly in the regular forces, partly in the police, and for -half the time he would be entirely separated from his wife, and perhaps -for it all, and at the thought thereof and the terror of the army, and -the unknown places and duties before him, there was great lamentation in -Hassan's little home. So Hassan is by this time being drilled at Cairo, -and soon will be a smart soldier in the Egyptian army; but up at Luxor -his young wife will be mourning for him, and, alas! for an Eastern -woman, she will be aged before Hassan returns. This is the shadow which -hangs over the life of a Fellah. - - - - -XI.--THE RESTLESS AMERICAN - -MANY Americans were good enough to call upon me before I had the -pleasure of visiting their country, and many Americans have called -since, and no American ever does me this honour without charging the -very atmosphere of my study with oxygen, and leaving an impression of -activity which quickens my slow pulses and almost reduces me to despair. - -It is now several years ago that a tall, thin, alert man followed his -card into my study with such rapidity that I had barely time to read it -before my visitor was in the room. - -"My name is Elijah K. Higgins, and I am a busy man. You are also busy -and have no time to fool away. Four days is all I can give to the United -Kingdom, and I wished to shake hands with you. Good-bye, I am off to -Drumtochty." - -I calculate that Mr. Higgins spent thirty seconds in my study, and left -the room so swiftly that I overtook him only at the front door. When I -asked him if he knew where Drumtochty was, "Guess I do!" he said. "Got -the route in my pocket, north-west from Perth, N.B.," and in two seconds -more he was whirling away in a fast hansom. As I returned to my study -and imagined my visitor compassing Great Britain (I think he excluded -Ireland, but I am not certain) in four days, I was for a moment roused -from the state of comparative lethargy which we, in England, call work, -and added six more engagements to my afternoon's programme. For days -afterwards, and as often as I was tempted to rest in my chair, the -remembrance of that whirlwind gave me a shock of new vigour. Sometimes -a reaction would follow, and I humbly thanked Providence, although that -was to write myself a weakling and a sluggard, that I was not bom in the -country where Mr. Higgins lived and was at home. - -Such lively experiences, which I often recall in jaded moments, prepare -one for a visit or a re-visit to America, as a tonic gives a sluggish -person an appetite for dinner, and it is bare justice to say that -one's expectations of American energy in its own home have not been -disappointed. If Americans, depressed by our heavy climate and our -leisurely life, could yet maintain such a level of thought and motion, -what might not be possible to them in their own country, where the -atmosphere is charged with electricity, and every second man is a -"hustler from way-back." The stir of the New World affects the visitor -and quickens his pulses as he goes up the Hudson and gets his first -glimpse of New York. Your steamer had waited four hours at Queenstown -for the mails, but the same mails were transferred to the United States -tender as the steamer steams up the bay. Little tugs dart about on all -sides with feverish speed, and larger steamers pass with their upper -machinery indecently exposed, as if there had not been time, or it had -not been worth while, to cover it. Buildings of incredible height line -the shores, and suggest that the American nation, besides utilizing the -ground, proposes also to employ the heavens for commercial purposes. It -was, I think, a Texas paper which translated the austere saying, "_Per -aspera ad astra_," into "the hustler gets to heaven," and certain New -York builders seem now to be on the way. Whetted by this overture on the -river, one is ready for the full music of the city; and I wish to -pay the compliment with all honesty that New York, with the possible -exception of Chicago, is the activest and noisiest place I have ever -seen, or expect to see, in this present world. While an English merchant -saunters down to his office between nine and ten, a New York man rises -at half-past six in his suburb and is busy at work at eight o'clock. The -Englishman takes off an hour during the day for luncheon at his club, -while the American eats his meal in fifteen minutes. The Englishman -spends more than another hour at afternoon tea, and gossip with friends, -and sauntering about between his club and his office, while the American -packs every minute with work. The very walk of an English merchant, -slow, dignified, self-satisfied, and that of the American, rapid, -eager, anxious--the one looking as if time were of no importance nor -circumstances, and the other as if the loss of a minute might mean -ruin--are the visible indices to the character of the nations. It -is only yesterday that elevators were introduced into English city -buildings, and there are many London offices to which you still have to -make an Alpine ascent of four stairs; but a New Yorker regards a stair -as a survival of barbarism, and hardly knows how to use it. The higher -buildings have several sets of elevators, like the four tracks which -railways lay down to work the swift and slow traffic. - -"Don't go in there," my friend said, with whom I was going to lunch at -a club on the top floor of a many-storied New York building. "That's an -accommodation elevator; stops, you know, at every station. This is the -express for the top floor." - -"Would it have made much difference?" I said. - -"Very nearly a minute," as if the loss of the minute would have thrown -us back for the rest of the day. - -No man goes slow if he has the chance of going fast, no man stops to -talk if he can talk walking, no man walks if he can ride in a trolley -car, no one goes in a trolley car if he can get a convenient railway, -and by-and-by no one will go by railway car if he can be shot through a -pneumatic tube. No one writes with his own hand if he can dictate to a -stenographer, no one dictates if he can telegraph, no one telegraphs if -he can telephone, and by-and-by, when the spirit of American invention -has brought wireless telegraphy into thorough condition, a man will -simply sit with his mouth at one hole and his ear at another, and do -business with the ends of the earth in a few seconds, which the same -machine will copy and preserve in letter books and ledgers. It is the -American's regret that at present he can do nothing with his feet while -he is listening at the telephone, but doubtless some employment will be -found for them in the coming age. - -If a slow-witted and slow-moving Englishman desires a liberal education, -let him take a journey of a month on the steam cars in the United -States. No train in Europe travels as fast as certain American -expresses, and if other trains go slower it is a matter of thankfulness, -because they are less likely to kill passengers on level crossings, or -in the main streets of the city along which they take their way, and -cattle have more time to get off the unprotected tracks. As trains have -also a trick of jumping the rails, either through the rails spreading -or the eccentricity of the engine, both being instances of exuberant -national vitality, it is just as well that every express does not go at -the rate of the Empire State Express on the New York Central. Nowhere -in Europe can a traveller find stronger or handsomer cars, and they are -marvels of adaptability and convenience. There is a dining car, in -order that you may not lose time at a station, and also, which is not -unimportant, in order that you may be able to occupy your time with -something practical on the train. Of course, there is a smoking -compartment, where men can compare notes upon politics and business, and -be able to escape from idleness and themselves. The best expresses -have a reading car, where the American can pick up such morsels of -information from the magazines as he can contain between the interstices -of business. There is a desk where he can read his letters, and -a typewriter to answer them, for this train is the American's -sleep-ing-place and dining-place, and his home and his office. One thing -only he regrets; the train, as it flies along, is not connected with -the telegraph and the telephone, so that, as an idea occurs to him or -he obtains a hint from a man in the smoking car, he might be able to do -business with his correspondents in Chicago or San Francisco. While -an Englishman on a railway journey is generally dressed in roughly and -loosely fitting tweeds, suggestive of a country life and of sport, -the coat of his American cousin is of dark material and has not a -superfluous inch of cloth. From his collar to his neat little boot the -American is prim, spick-and-span, and looks as if he had come out of a -band-box and were ready to appear in the principal room of any office. -He is dressed in fact for business, and looks like business from -the crown of his head to the sole of his feet, while an Englishman's -appearance suggests that he is going to see a cricket match or that he -has retired to live upon a farm. - -My countryman arrives at the station with two and a half minutes to -spare, and laden with small baggage. A porter carries his rug and an -ulster, very likely also a hat-box and a bag with books, papers, and -such like in it, to say nothing of an umbrella and a mackintosh, and he -secures his seat at the last moment. He fastens his hat above his head, -puts on a travelling cap, changes into an ulster, if it be winter time, -and throws a rug over his knee; he puts on travelling gloves, and gets -out the Times, and he will sit without budging and read his _Times_ -without intermission for fifty minutes. Besides these trifles with him -in the carriage, he has a portmanteau in the van, which he hopes has -been addressed, and which the porter promised to see put in, and he will -scramble for it at his terminus along with a hundred other passengers, -who are all trying to identify and extricate their luggage from a huge -heap on the platform. - -The American reaches the depot by a trolley car ten minutes at least -before the hour of departure, having sent his heavy luggage, if he -has any--which is not likely--by baggage express. His only personal -equipment is a slim and compact valise, which, in regard to opening and -shutting, is a marvel of convenience. This he carries in his hand, and -places beneath or beside the seat which he has secured two days before. -He does not carry a rug because the cars are heated, nor an umbrella -because it is not the rainy season. His top coat he hangs up beside his -seat, as if he were in his own house; and his hat if he so please. He -does not wear a travelling-cap any more than in his own drawing-room, -nor gloves in the train any more than in his own office. Should his -hands be soiled, he goes to the lavatory where there are large basins -and an ample supply of water, and if his coat be dusty, there is a -negro porter in every car to brush it. The immense repose of the English -traveller is quite impossible for this mercurial man, whose blood and -whose brain are ever on a stir. Very rarely will you see him reading a -book, because he is not accustomed to read, and the demands of a book -would lessen his time for business meditation. Boys with newspapers -circulate through the cars, and he buys each new paper as it appears -at the different towns. Whether it be Republican, or Democratic, or a -family paper or a yellow journal, does not matter to him; he glances at -the startling headings, takes an accident or a political scandal at -a mouthful, skims over the business news, sees whether anything has -happened at the Philippines, notes that the canard of the morning has -been contradicted in the afternoon, and flings paper after paper on -the floor. Three minutes or, in cases of extreme interest, five minutes -suffice for each paper, and by-and-by this omnivorous reader, who -consumes a paper even more quickly than his food, is knee deep in -printed information or sensation. For two minutes he is almost quiet, -and seems to be digesting some piece of commercial information. He then -rises hurriedly, as if he had been called on the telephone, and makes -for the smoking-car, where he will discuss "Expansion" with vivid, -picturesque speech, and get through a cigar with incredible celerity. -Within fifteen minutes he is in his place again; and, a little -afterwards, wearying of idleness, he is chewing the end of a cigar, -which is a substitute for smoking and saves him from being wearied with -his own company. Half an hour before the train is due at his station, -he is being brushed, and getting ready to alight. Before the train -has reached the outskirts of the town, he has secured his place in a -procession which stands in single file in the narrow exit passage from -the Pullman. Each man is ready dressed for business and has his valise -in his hand; he is counting the minutes before he can alight, and is -envying the man at the head of the procession, who will have a start of -about two seconds. This will give him a great advantage in business, and -he may never be overtaken by his competitors till evening. - -Suppose he lands at 6 a.m., he will find breakfast ready in a hotel, -and half a dozen men eating as if their lives depended upon finishing -by 6.15 a.m. Before seven he will have disposed of a pile of letters, -dictating answers to a typist attached to the hotel, he will have -telegraphed in all directions, and made half a dozen appointments in the -town by telephone. Within the forenoon he will finish his business and -depart for some neighbouring town, lunching on the cars. The second town -he will dispose of in the afternoon, and that evening go on board -the sleeper to travel 400 miles to a third town, where he is going to -negotiate a contract at 8 o'clock next morning. If you sympathize with -him, and wonder how flesh and blood can stand the speed, he accepts your -sympathy as a compliment, and assures you that he never sleeps so well -as on the cars. He never seems to be out of sorts or out of temper: he -is always thoroughly alive and quite good-natured. Sometimes he may -seem for a moment annoyed, when he cannot telegraph as often as he wants -along the line, or when the train is not on time, that he may make a -connection. Nothing would wound him so deeply as to "get left," and he -can only affect to be unconscious when some one declares that he is "no -slouch, and that there are no flies on him." If he is obliged to spend -two hours doing nothing in a hotel, when business is over, then he rocks -himself and smokes, and it is a wonderful spectacle for an indolent -Englishman to look down from the gallery that commands the hall of the -hotel, and to see fifty able-bodied fellow-men who have worked already -twelve hours, at least, and put eighteen hours' work into the time, -all in motion. (One wonders why this motion is not utilized to drive -something.) He discovers how unlike cousins may be, for an Englishman -never moves unless he is obliged to or unless he wants to shoot -something, and these remarkable men never rest unless when they are -asleep. About that even, I am not sure, and I was often tempted to draw -aside the curtain from a berth in a sleeping-car, and, had I done so, I -should not have been at all surprised to find our friend wide awake -with a cold cigar in his cheek, and rocking his knees for want of more -extensive accommodation. He has always rebelled against the ancient -custom of sleep, which he regards as a loss of time and an anachronism. -All that he can do is to spend the night in a sleeping car, which, as he -will tell you, annihilates time and space. - -Foreigners travelling in the States in their innocence are amazed that -a delicate-minded nation, like the Americans, should be willing to sleep -after the fashion of the Pullman cars, and should not insist upon the -Continental cabin-car. The reason for the Arcadian simplicity of the -sections is not really economy, for no American would ever think twice -of spending a dollar; it is simply their abounding and dominant energy. -If you sleep in cabins at night, you must sit in cabins by day; and -this would mean a seclusion and repose which are very distasteful to -the high-strung American temperament. It would be like bottling up a -volatile gas; and one imagines that it might lead to an explosion, which -some day would break down the partitions and break up the car from end -to end. The American must see everything in his car and hear everything, -for which he depends upon the peculiar quality of the local voice; -and he must be at liberty to prowl about his car, and to sit with his -friends here and there. The car is his little world for the time, and he -is not going to live in a backwater. - -There seems no doubt that an American workman will do from twenty-five -to thirty-three per cent, more than an Englishman in the same time, and -that the higher wages of the American have their compensation for -the capitalist in a workman's quickness of mind and sleight of hand. -Everything goes at an accelerated speed, with wonderful inventions in -labour-saving machinery and devices to economize time. If the great end -of a nation be to do as much as possible in as short a time as possible, -then the American climate has been practically arranged for that end. An -Englishwoman living in the States becomes effervescent, and the native -American is the brightest woman on the face of the earth. While the -English atmosphere is heavy and soothing, and lends itself to thought -and quietness, the American climate is exciting and exhilarating, and -quickens both mind and body to the highest activity. It is an electric -climate, and the electricity has passed into the people, who are simply -vessels charged up to a certain number of volts. These vessels as -sources of motive power can then be attached to pulpits, or offices, or -workshops or politics. Of course, a day is apt to come when the vessels -will have been completely discharged, and it arrives very frequently -without warning. A little confusion in the head, and a slight numbness -in the limbs, and the man has to go away a year to Colorado Springs -or to Los Angeles. If he is fortunate, he can be recharged and run for -another five or ten years; then nature does not give any warning, but -simply stops the heart or darkens the brain, and you must get another -man. - -No one, unless he leaves the country or becomes a crank, can escape from -this despotism of activity; he is part of the regiment and must march -with his fellows. The idea of making a competency and then retiring, -say, into the country, never crosses a man's mind. When you urge economy -upon a man for this end, you have injured your case, and are pleading -on the other side. With such a prospect before him, he is more than -ever resolved to be a spendthrift. To seclude an active American in an -old-fashioned country house, with ivy climbing round its Tudor windows, -even although there should be a library of black oak inside and a rose -garden outside, would be cruelty; it would be to imprison a squirrel in -a golden cage. What greatly impresses the traveller in the United States -is that the rich men work as hard and as long as the poor, and that -they cannot even give attention to the affairs of their country, but -are willing to leave them to the very doubtful management of the "Boss," -because it would not pay them to leave their business and go into -politics. If the end of life be riches, then the clever American is a -successful man, for in no country does a respectable man become so very -rich, or rich so soon, and if not respectable he still may do fairly -well. You cannot have everything, however, and one notes that the -average rich man has paid a price for his dollars. He has read very -little--his wife reads for him; he has travelled very little--his -daughters travel for him. He has no voice in the State--professional -politicians speak for him; he has no amusements, unless you include -speculation; and he has no pleasant periods of rest, unless you accept -as an equivalent comparatively early and sudden death, which often -arises from acute indigestion. He has not time to stop and realize -himself, unless, but this is a large exception, when he has dyspepsia. -One reason, perhaps, why Americans do not rest is that given to me by a -bright woman: "We are all so tired," and the American is the victim of -his own qualities. - -One, of course, acknowledges the advantages of this amazing energy, and -there are times when a stolid Englishman grows envious. A university in -America is created in ten years and endowed to the extent of millions -sterling, and equipped with chairs of which a European never dreamt, and -laboratories which border upon palaces. Libraries and picture galleries -are rising in every city, for which the treasuries of Europe have been -ransacked; and, were it not for the restriction of governments, the Old -Masters would have to be sought, not in Italy and England, but in New -York and Chicago. New towns are designed upon a scale of magnificence, -as if each were to be the capital of an empire, and are at least -outlined in building within a few years. Should it be necessary, an army -can be created within a few months, and in a couple of years a new -trade can be established which will kill its European rivals. An English -farmer with fifteen hundred acres is a considerable man, but an American -can have fifteen thousand acres and his different farm buildings will be -connected by telephone. A self-made man in England marries his daughter -to a baronet and is much lifted; but the daughter of a self-made man -in America will marry an English duke, and consider she has conferred -a benefit. When you go to a Western town, you may be taken to see a -university; if not, you are taken to a dry-goods store; each, in its own -way, is the largest of its kind. Certainly, there are stores in America -which have no rival in the Old World, and which you are expected to -visit with the same appreciation as the Duomo of Florence. - -There is almost nothing that the United States does not possess, except -political purity, and nothing which an American cannot do, except rest; -and in the conflict with foreign competition, he has almost discounted -victory. Whether he be able, that is, patient and thorough in the -discovery of principles, may be a question; that he is clever, by which -one means bright and ingenious in turning principles to account, is -beyond all question. If America has not yet had time to produce a -Lord Kelvin, it has given us telephones; and if Professor Dewar has -astonished the world with his liquid air, an American trust is, it -is said, being formed to handle it for commercial purposes. If we are -thought to be dull and slow, as we travel among the most stimulating and -hospitable people on the face of the earth, let some excuse be made for -us and let our hosts share the blame. An Englishman in the United States -is half dazed, like one moving amid the ceaseless din and whirling -wheels of a huge manufactory, where the voice has to be raised to a -shriek, and a sentence compressed into a single word. He goes home -greatly humbled in his estimation of himself, and in low spirits about -the commercial future of his country. He has no bitterness, however, -within his heart, for are not these people of his own blood, and are not -their triumphs his, even if they threaten to outrun his own nation in -the race of productive commerce? And when he comes back to England, has -he not his compensations, Stratford-on-Avon, and Westminster Abbey, and -the greenery of the Home Counties, and the lights and shadows of the -Scots Lochs, and the musical voices of the English women, and the quiet, -contented, cultured English homes? - - - - -XII.--A SCOT INDEED - - -HE had demanded that afternoon to be told the truth, and the doctor, -himself a young Scot, had told him plainly that he could not recover, -and then he had asked, as one man speaking to another, both being brave -and honest men, when he would die, and the doctor thought early next -morning. - -"Aboot daybreak," said the Scot, with much satisfaction, as if, on -the whole, he were content to die, and much pleased it would be at the -rising of the sun. He was a characteristic type of his nation, rugged -in face and dry of manner, an old man, who had drifted somehow to this -English city and was living there alone, and now he was about to die -alone, without friends and in a strange land. The nurse was very kind to -him, and her heart went out to the quiet, self-contained man. She asked -him whether he would like to see a clergyman, and explained that the -chaplain of the infirmary was a good man. - -"A've nae doubt he is," said the Scot, "and that his meenistrations -would be verra acceptable to English fouk, but a've never had ony -dealin's wi' Episcopalians. He micht want to read a prayer, and I -couldna abide that, and mebbe I couldna follow the texts in his English -tongue." - -The nurse still lingered by his bed. He looked up to her and assured -her he was in no need of consolation. "Saxty year ago my mither made me -learn the wale (choice portions) o' the Bible, and they're cornin' up -ane by ane to my memory, but I thank ye kindly." - -As the nurse went back and forward on her duties she heard her patient -saying at intervals to himself, "I know whom I have believed." - -"I am persuaded that neither life nor death." Once again she heard him, -"Although the mountains depart and the hills be removed," but the rest -she did not catch. - -During the afternoon a lady came into the ward whose service to the Lord -was the visitation of the sick, a woman after the type of Barnabas -and Mary of Bethany. When she heard of the old man's illness and his -loneliness, whom no friend came to see or comfort, she went to his -bedside. "You are very ill," she said, "my friend." - -"A'm deein'," he replied, with the exactness of his nation, which -somewhat fails to understand the use of graceful circumlocution and -gentle phrases. - -"Is there anything I can do for you? Would you wish me to sing a few -verses of a hymn? Some sick people feel much comforted and soothed by -singing; you would like, I think, to hear 'Rock of Ages,'" and she sat -down by his bedside and opened her book, while a patient beyond, who had -caught what she said, raised his head to enjoy the singing. - -"Ye're verra kind, mem, and a'm muckle obleeged to ye, but a'm a Scot -and ye're English, and ye dinna understand. A' my days have I been -protestin' against the use o' human hymns in the praise o' God; a've -left three kirks on that account, and raised my testimony in public -places, and noo would ye send me into eternity wi' the sough of a hymn -in my ears?" - -For a moment the visitor had no reply, for in the course of all her -experiences, during which she had come across many kinds of men and -women, she had never yet chanced upon this kind of Scot. The patients in -the infirmary were not distinguished by their religious scruples, and if -they had scruples of such a kind they turned on large and full-blooded -distinctions between Protestant and Catholic, and never entered into -subtleties of doctrine. - -"You'll excuse me, mem, for a'm no ungratefu'," he continued, "and I -would like to meet yir wishes when ye've been so kind to me. The doctor -says I canna live long, and it's possible that my strength may sune give -way, but a'll tell ye what a'm willin' to do." - -The visitor waited anxiously to know what service he was going to render -her and what comfort she might offer to him, but both were beyond her -guessing. - -"Sae lang as a've got strength and my reason continues clear, a'm -prepared to argue with you concerning the lawfulness of using onything -except the Psalms of David in the praise of God either in public or in -private." - -Dear old Scot, the heir of many a covenanting tradition and the worthy -son of covenanting martyrs, it was a strange subject of discussion for -a man's last hour, but the man who could be true to the jots and tittles -of his faith in pain of body and in face of death was the stuff out -of which heroes and saints are made. He belonged to a nation who might -sometimes be narrow and over-concerned with scruples, but which knew -that a stand must be taken somewhere, and where it took a stand was -prepared to die. - -The visitor was a wise as well as gracious woman, and grasped the heart -of the situation. "No, no," she said, "we will not speak about the -things wherein we differ, and I did not know the feeling of the Scots -about the singing of the hymns. But I can understand how you love the -Psalms and how dear to you is your metrical version. Do you know I have -been in the Highlands of Scotland and have heard the Psalms sung, and -the tears came into my eyes at the sound of the grave, sweet melody, for -it was the music of a strong and pious people." - -As she spoke the hard old Scot's face began to soften, and one hand -which was lying outside the bedclothes repeated the time of a Scots -Psalm tune. He was again in the country church of his boyhood, and -saw his father and mother going into the table seats, and heard them -singing: - - "O thou, my soul, bless God the Lord, - And all that in me is - Be stirred up His holy name - To magnify and bless." - -"More than that, I know some of your psalm tunes, and I have the words -in my hymn book; perhaps I have one of the Psalms which you would like -to hear." - -"Div ye think that ye could sing the Twenty-third Psalm-- - - 'The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want'? - -for I would count it verra comfortin'." - -"Yes," she said, "I can, and it will please me very much to sing it, for -I think I love that psalm more than any hymn." - -"It never runs dry," murmured the Scot. - -So she sang it from beginning to end in a low, sweet voice, slowly and -reverently, as she had heard it sung in Scotland. He joined in no word, -but ever he kept time with his hand and with his heart, while his eyes -looked into the things which were far away. - -After she ceased he repeated to himself the last two lines: - - "And in God's house for evermore - My dwelling place shall be." - -"Thank ye, thank ye," he said, after a little pause, and then both -were silent for a few minutes, because she saw that he was in his own -country, and did not wish to bring him back by her foreign accent. - -"Mem, ye've dune me the greatest kindness ony Christian could do for -anither as he stands on the banks of the Jordan." - -For a minute he was silent again, and then he said: "A'm gaein' to tell -ye somethin', and I think ye'll understand. My wife and me wes married -thirty-five years, and ilka nicht of oor married life we sang a psalm -afore we gaed to rest. She took the air and I took the bass, and we sang -the Psalms through frae beginning to end twal times. She was taken frae -me ten year ago, and the nicht afore she dee'd we sang the Twenty-third -Psalm. A've never sung the psalm since, and I didna join wi' ye when ye -sang it, for a'm waitin' to sing it wi' her new in oor Father's hoose -the momin's momin', where there'll be nae nicht nor partin' evermore." - -And this is how one Englishwoman found out that the Scot is at once the -dourest and the tenderest of men. - - - - -XIII.--HIS CROWNING DAY - - -WE will leave the main road which runs through the Glen between oak -trees which were planted fifty years ago, but are only now beginning to -join their branches, and take our way up the hillside till we come to -the purple sea of heather whose billows rise and fall, broken only here -and there by an oasis of green or a running burm. Our goal is this little -cottage which is so low that its roof merges into the hill behind, -and upon whose thatch the wild flowers have encroached. Stoop, if you -please, for it is not wise to have high doorways where the winter storm -beats so fiercely, and being respectable people, we shall be taken into -the inner room, where strangers of high degree are received and the -treasures of the family are kept. It will not take long to give an -inventory of the furniture, and the value will not run to two figures. A -box bed, a small table, four ancient chairs, what they called a chest -of drawers, and on the mantelpiece some peacocks' feathers by way of -decoration, and certain china ornaments representing animals which never -have been seen in this creation, and are never likely to emerge in any -process of evolution. Were this all, I should not have troubled you to -climb so far, or to leave even for five minutes the glory of the open -moor. There is something else in the lowly room which you might well -take a journey to see, for it is a rare sight in shepherds' cottages. -Here is a bookshelf, and on it, I declare, some dozen volumes bound in -full calf, and bearing on one side the arms of a University. You must -revise your judgment of this house, and find another measure than the -height of the walls and the cubic space in the rooms. It matters not -although a house have thirty chambers, with lofty ceilings and soft -carpets and carved furniture; if there be no books which belong to -literature within its walls it is a poor and narrow home, and the souls -therein are apt to be mean and earthly. - -While you are looking at the books the shepherd's wife is looking at -you. From the moment you crossed the threshold she has been thinking of -that bookshelf, and hoping you would take notice thereof, but not for -the world would she have mentioned it by word or sign. We had our own -code of manners in the Glen, and one of our cardinal sins was "blowing," -by which we meant boasting; and while a man though perhaps not a woman, -could be forgiven for "tasting," there was no mercy shown to the person -who allowed himself to brag. When, for instance, old David Ross's son -became a professor, his father and mother simply allowed the glorious -fact to ooze out through Domsie, who certainly had no scruple in making -the most of it, and neither the father nor mother ever said Professor in -public, although we believe they called their son nothing else between -themselves; but the Glen made up for their reticence by decorating -every second sentence about him with the word. All the same, Mistress -McPherson is watching us keenly, and she would be utterly disappointed -if we had overlooked the shelf; and now, in answer to our inquiry, she -will take us into the kitchen and place us by the fireside, that we may -hear the story of her scholar son, which, indeed, is the one romance in -the history of this humble family. - -One morning John left the cottage to go to school, a shepherd's boy, and -likely, as it appeared, to herd sheep and live in the Glen all the -days of his life as his father had done before him. In the evening the -schoolmaster, who is the judge of letters in the Glen, with the minister -as a court of confirmation, came up and told the father and mother that -in the purposes of the Eternal their son was evidently destined to be -a scholar, and that upon them lay the duty of seeing that John made his -calling and election sure. Had tidings come to those two people, whose -wage in money would not amount to ten shillings a week, that they were -heirs to a fortune, it would not have brought such pleasure to their -souls as the good hope that their lowly stock would once at least in -a generation produce the white flower of a scholar's life. The whole -family, father and mother, with their grown-up sons and daughters in -service, will now unite in one labour--to save and to sacrifice, that by -hook or crook their brother may reach a university, and be sustained -in his study there till he has reached its reward. Four years from that -evening, had you been standing under the great arch by which students -enter the quadrangle of Edinburgh University, you had seen the -shepherd's son pass in, plainly dressed and shy in manner, but strong -of body and brave in soul, and charged with all the knowledge that -his schoolmaster and his minister could impart by patient, ungrudging -labour. The lad before him is a noble's son, and the one following is a -merchant's, and so sons of the rich and of the poor, of the high and -of the low, they go together, into the one Republic on the face of the -earth, the Republic of Letters, where money does not count, nor rank, -nor influence, nor intrigue, but where every man stands equal and the -best man wins. - -Another four years and John has obtained his degree, a double first, and -he writes to the cottage on the side of the hill that the two old people -must come up to see him crowned. For six weeks before the day his mother -has just one consuming anxiety, and that is what she should wear on -the occasion, and it is only after fifteen long deliberations with her -gossips in the Glen that the great affair is settled, while the father's -mind is wholly taken up on Sundays with the effort to look as if he were -not the father of a graduate. - -When the shepherd and his wife enter the gates of the University, -they are not to be thought of as two illiterate peasants who cannot -distinguish between a University and a dry-goods store. Although they -had never themselves expected to see so high a place, and had only -cherished it as a secret hope that perhaps one of their boys might -attain so far, they have learned by the tradition of their nation, and -by the speech of Domsie in the kirk-yard on Sabbath, to enter into -the greatness of a university. It is to them the home of the highest -knowledge, and a sacred place to which reverend people might well go -up as a pious Moslem to Mecca or a Jew to Jerusalem. As they cross the -quadrangle, the shepherd touches his wife, and points to an elderly -gentleman in the distance. They follow him with respectful attention as -he shambles along, half a dozen books under his arm, his shabby cloak -held by a single button, a hat as old as Jamie Soutar's resting on the -back of his head. - -"Keep's a', Jeems," whispers Janet respectfully "Div ye really think -that he's a professor?" - -"We canna be sure, woman; he micht juist be a scholar, but I am judgin' -that he's a professor--he hes a' the appearance." - -And the two old people stand still in the bit till he disappears, and -then they go on their way much lifted. Outside religion there is no word -in Scots speech so sacred as "professor." It means a semi-heavenly -body charged with Latin and Greek philosophy and mathematics. It was -something to see such a man, and to be in his company was living in an -atmosphere where you might catch the infection of his learning. When a -glensman, to whom Domsie had spoken of professors with bated breath for -more than a generation, learned that in southern parts the title was -assumed by hairdressers and ventriloquists, and that they were not sent -to gaol for profanity, then Drumtochty discovered another argument for -its favourite doctrine of original sin. - -As the two go down the half-lit passage to the hall of graduation, they -are met by a majestic figure--a young man in evening dress, and over -it the gown of an M.A., with its white silk hood, and on his head the -Master's cap. - -"Are you coming, may I ask," said he, with quite a nice English accent, -to the graduation ceremony, "and can I be of any service?" - -"We are, sir; and as we are strangers frae the country, we would be -muckle obleeged if ye could shew us the door. We dinna want to go where -the gentry are sittin', but if ye would juist tak' us where we could -see, we'd be content and terrible pleased. There's a... friend to get -his degree to-day, and my man and me would like to see him." - -"Mither," said the figure, "and ye dinna ken yir ain son," for he had -taken them in well, and played his little trick with much success. They -had never seen him in evening dress, nor in his Master's robe, and the -light was as darkness; besides, he had dropped the accent of the Glen. -The father and the son laughed together joyfully at Janet, but she -declared that she had known him all the time, and put it to them if a -mother could be mistaken about her son. But she didn't know him all the -same, and as long as she lived it was a pleasant jest between them when -he came north to visit them, and she met him at the garden gate. "Well, -mither," he would say, "div ye ken yir son the day?" - -Janet was well pleased that one should tease her in after times about -this ploy of John's, for it always gave her an opportunity of describing -how handsome he looked in his black and white silk, and of stating that -she. Mistress McPherson, wife of James McPherson, shepherd at Camashach, -considered the dress of a Master of Arts the handsomest that a man could -wear. - -John took his father and mother into the hall, and placed them in the -seats reserved for the friends of graduates, and while a man has various -moments of pure joy in his life, there is none sweeter than when he -brings his mother to see him crowned at the close of his university -career. For in this matter he owes everything to two people--the -schoolmaster who taught him and the mother who inspired him. - -"Now, mither, you watch that door yonder, for through it the procession -will come; and when ye see the men wi' the white silk hoods, ye'll ken -that I'm there, and ye'll surely no mistake me again." - -He was so provoking, and he looked so handsome with the flush of the day -upon his cheek, that, as he stooped over her, she was about to give him -a little shove and tell him not to give "any more impi-dence to his auld -mither," when she remembered where she was sitting, and the grand folk -round her, and so she only answered with a demure nod of intelligence. - -She brought out her glasses, and the shepherd polished them carefully -for her because her hands were trembling, and for that matter he had -almost to put them on her nose, so shaken was she on this great day; and -then she watched the door, as if there was nothing else in all the hall -except that door. It seemed to her twelve hours before it opened and the -procession streamed through with many a famous man and many a coloured -garment. Janet had no eyes for the Chancellor in his purple and gold, -nor for the robes of red and the hoods of lemon silk bordered with white -fur, for there was nothing beautiful in her eyes that day except black -gowns with white silk upon them. When at last the Masters of Arts -appeared, she told me afterwards many and many a time in the Glen that -they were a body of very respectable-looking young men, but that among -them all there was only one outstanding and handsome man, and that, by a -curious accident which mothers only can explain, happened to be her -son. She followed him as he came down the passage, and was a little -disappointed that he was now carrying his trencher in his hand instead -of wearing it-on his head, and she saw him take his seat, and could -hardly forgive some great lady in front of her, whose bonnet, coming in -the line of vision, prevented her catching anything except a little bit -of John's shoulder with the white silk upon it. A little later, and she -watched him rise and go forward and kneel before the Chancellor, and -then there was said over him Latin words so magical that after they were -spoken a student was changed from a common man into a Master of Arts. -We used to say in our jesting that the Latin could not be translated, it -was so mysterious and awful, but the shepherd's wife and John's mother -was an accomplished Latin scholar that day, and she heard the Chancellor -say, as distinctly as ever man spoke-- - -"John McPherson, you are the tallest, strongest, handsomest, ablest, -kindest-hearted son whom this University ever made Master of Arts." -That was a free translation, but it was true in spirit, and the letter -killeth. - -Standing behind the Chancellor, and looking down upon the hall, I saw -the faces of the shepherd and his wife, and I knew that they would never -taste such perfect joy again till they entered through the gates into -the city, and then I longed to be lifted above all circumstances, and to -have the power of the fairy world, where you do what you please. For I -should have gone down into the hall, and held a special and unheard-of -graduation ceremony, conferring a degree of a new kind altogether upon -that shepherd and his wife, because without their unworldly ideals, and -their hard sacrifices, and their holy prayers, John McPherson had never -knelt there that day in his white silk glory, Master of Arts with the -highest honours. - - - - -XIV.--"DINNA FORGET SPURGEON" - - -IS varied charge was given to the good man on the morning of market day -as he brought the mare out from the stable, as he harnessed her into the -dogcart, as he packed the butter basket below the seat, as he wrestled -into his top coat, worn for ceremony's sake, and as he made the -start--line upon line and precept upon precept as he was able to receive -it; but the conclusion of the matter and its crown was ever the same, -"Dinna forget Spurgeon." - -"There's twal pund o' butter for the grocer, the best ever left this -dairy, and he maun gie a shillin,' or it's the laist Andra Davie'ill get -frae me; but begin by askin' fourteenpence, else it's eleven ye'll bring -back. He's a lad, is Andra, an' terrible grippy. - -"For ony sake tak' care o' the eggs, and mind they're no turnips ye're -handlin'--it's a fair temptin' o' Providence to see the basket in yir -hands--ninepence a dozen, mind, and tell him they're new laid an' no -frae Ireland; there's a handfu' o' flowers for the wife, and a bit o' -honey for their sick laddie, but say naethin' o' that till the bargain's -made. - -"The tea and sugar a've markit on a bit paper, for it's nae use bringin' -a bag o' grass-seed, as ye did fower weeks ago; an' there's ae thing -mair I micht mention, for ony sake dinna pit the paraffin oil in the -same basket wi' the loaf sugar; they may fit fine, as ye said, but -otherwise they're no gude neeburs. And, John, dinna forget Spurgeon." - -Again and again during the day, and in the midst of many practical -operations, the good wife predicted to her handmaidens what would -happen, and told them, as she had done weekly, that she had no hope. - -"It's maist awfu' hoo the maister'ill gae wanderin' and dodderin' thro' -the market a' day, pricing cattle he's no gaein' tae buy, an' arguin' -aboot the rent o' farms he's no gaein' to tak', an' never gie a thocht -tae the errands till the laist meenut. - -"He may bring hame some oil," she would continue, gloomily, as if that -were the one necessity of life to which a male person might be expected -to give attention; "but ye needna expect ony tea next week"--as if there -was not a week's stock in the house--"and ye may tak' ma word for it -there'ill be nae Spurgeon's sermon for Sabbath." - -As the provident woman had written every requirement--except the oil, -which was obtained at the ironmonger's, and the Spurgeon, which was -sold at the draper's--on a sheet of paper, and pinned it on the topmost -cabbage leaf which covered the butter, the risk was not great; but that -week the discriminating prophecy of the good man's capabilities seemed -to be justified, for the oil was there, but Spurgeon could not be found. -It was not in the bottom of the dogcart, nor below the cushion, -nor attached to a piece of saddlery, nor even in the good man's -trouser-pocket--all familiar resting-places--and when it was at last -extricated from the inner pocket of his top coat--a garment with which -he had no intimate acquaintance--he received no credit, for it was -pointed out with force that to have purchased the sermon and then to -have mislaid it, was worse than forgetting it altogether. - -"The Salvation of Manasseh," read the good wife; "it would have been a -fine like business to have missed that; a'll warrant this 'ill be ane -o' his sappiest, but they're a' gude": and then Manasseh was put in a -prominent and honourable place, behind the basket of wax flowers in the -best parlour till Sabbath. - -It was the good custom in that kindly home to ask the "lads" from the -bothie into the kitchen on the Sabbath evening, who came in their -best clothes and in much confusion, sitting on the edge of chairs and -refusing to speak on any consideration. They made an admirable meal, -however, and were understood to express gratitude by an attempt at "gude -nicht," while the foreman stated often with the weight of his authority -that they were both "extraordinar' lifted" by the tea and "awfu' ta'en -up" with the sermon. For after tea the "maister" came "but," and having -seen that every person had a Bible, he gave out a Psalm, which was -sung usually either to Coleshill or Martyrdom--the musical taste of the -household being limited and conservative to a degree. The good man then -read the chapter mentioned on the face of the sermon, and remarked by -way of friendly introduction: - -"Noo we'ill see what Mr. Spurgeon has to say the nicht." - -Perhaps the glamour of the past is on me, perhaps a lad was but a -poor judge, but it seemed to me good reading--slow, well pronounced, -reverent, charged with tenderness and pathos. No one slept or moved, and -the firelight falling on the serious faces of the stalwart men, and the -shining of the lamp on the good grey heads, as the gospel came, sentence -by sentence, to every heart, is a sacred memory, and I count that Mr. -Spurgeon would have been mightily pleased to have been in such meetings -of homely folk. - -It was harvest-time, however, when Manasseh was read, and there being -extra men with us, our little gathering was held in the loft, where they -store the com which is to be threshed in the mill. It was full of wheat -in heavy, rich, ripe, golden sheaves, save a wide space in front of the -machinery, and the congregation seated themselves in a semi-circle on -the sheaves. The door through which the com is forked into the loft -was open and, with a skylight in the low dusty roof, gave us, that fine -August evening, all the light we needed. Through that wide window we -could look out on some stacks already safely built, and on fields, -stretching for miles, of grain cut and ready for the gathering and, -beyond, to woods and sloping hills towards which the sun was westering -fast. That evening, I remember, we sang - - "I to the hills will lift mine eyes." - -and sang it to French, and it was laid on me as an honour to read -"Manasseh." Whether the sermon is called by this name I do not know, and -whether it be one of the greatest of Mr. Spurgeon's I do not know, nor -have I a copy of it; but it was mighty unto salvation in that loft, and -I make no doubt that good grain was garnered unto eternity. There is -a passage in it when, after the mercy of God has rested on this chief -sinner, an angel flies through the length and breadth of Heaven, crying, -"Manasseh is saved, Manasseh is saved." Up to that point the lad read, -and further he did not read. You know, because you have been told, how -insensible and careless is a schoolboy, how destitute of all sentiment -and emotion... and therefore I do not ask you to believe me. You know -how dull and stupid is a plowman, because you have been told... and -therefore I do not ask you to believe me. - -It was the light which got into the lad's eyes, and the dust which -choked his voice, and it must have been for the same reasons that a -plowman passed the back of his hand across his eyes. - -"Ye'ill be tired noo," said the good man; "let me feenish the sermon," -but the sermon is not yet finished, and never shall be, for it has been -unto life everlasting. - -Who of all preachers you can mention of our day could have held such -companies save Spurgeon? What is to take their place, when the last -of those well-known sermons disappears from village shops and cottage -shelves? Is there any other gospel which will ever be so understanded of -the people, or so move human hearts as that which Spurgeon preached in -the best words of our own tongue? The good man and his wife have entered -into rest long ago, and of all that company I know not one now; but -I see them as I write, against that setting of gold, and I hear the -angel's voice, "Manasseh is saved," and for that evening and others very -sacred to my heart I cannot forget Spurgeon. - - - - -XV.--THEIR FULL RIGHTS - - -THE departure of a minister of the Scots Kirk from his congregation is, -of course, a subject of regret if he has the heart of the people, but -this regret is tempered by the satisfaction of knowing that there -will be an election. While a free-born Scot is careful to exercise -his political suffrage, he takes an even keener interest in his -ecclesiastical vote, and the whole congregation now constitutes itself -into a constituency. Every preacher is a candidate, and everything about -him is criticised, from his appearance--in one district they would not -have a red-headed man; and his dress--in another district they objected -to grey trousers, up to his voice and to his doctrine; but, of course, -the keenest criticism bears upon his doctrine, which is searched as with -a microscope. As a rule there is no desire to close the poll early, -for a year's vacancy is a year's enjoyment to the congregation giving -endless opportunity for argument and debate for strategy and party -management. One congregation had been ruled so firmly by the retiring -pastor, who was a little man and therefore full of authority, that they -hardly dared to call their souls their own. - -If any one ventured to disagree with this ecclesiastical Napoleon he -was ordered to the door and told to betake himself to some church where -freedom of action was allowed. This magnificent autocracy might have -emptied another church, but it secured a Scots kirk, because to tell a -Scot to go is to make, him stay. As a matter of course, no person did -leave, for that would have been giving in, and the consequence was that -the whole congregation was knit together by the iron bonds of rebellion. - -When Napoleon retired the congregation smacked its lips, for now at -least every one had found his voice and could go his own way. There -never was such a vacancy known in the district. They heard thirty -candidates and rejected them all: they held a meeting every week, which -lasted till midnight, and there were six motions proposed, and no one -dreamed of agreement. It was like the emancipation of the slaves, and -the whole of Scotch cantankerousness came to a height. Every obscure -law was hunted up in order to be used against the other side, and every -well-known law they endeavoured to break. Not because they did not -know the law, but because they wanted to find out whether the presiding -minister knew it. This poor man had the duty of conducting the meetings -of the congregation, and was utterly unfitted for the position by his -exceeding goodness. He was a pious and soft-hearted man, who used to -address them as "dear brethren," and appealed to them on the grounds of -harmony and charity. "You will wish to be at one," he used to say, when -they all really wished to be at sixes and sevens, or, "I am sure," he -would say, "you didn't mean to oppose our dear brother who has just -spoken," when that had been the speaker's intention for twenty-four -hours. One party was led by a tall, raw-boned Scot, with a voice like a -handsaw, who opposed everything, and the other was really managed by the -wife of one of the elders, who could be heard giving directions _sotto -voce_ how to meet the handsaw. They finally drew the wretched acting -moderator to distraction, so that his head, which was never so good as -his heart, gave way, and he required six months' rest in a hydropathic. - -The Presbytery then sent down a minister of another kind, fairly -equipped in law and with no bowels of mercy; a civil, courteous, -determined, fighting man, and there was a royal evening. This minister -explained that they had held many meetings, most of which were -unnecessary, and that they had proposed fifty motions, all of which he -believed were illegal. It was his own conviction he freely stated that -they knew perfectly well that they had been wrong, and that they had -simply been amusing themselves, and he concluded by intimating that they -had met for business on this occasion, that a minister must be elected -before departing, and it was his business to see that he was elected -unanimously. He stood facing the congregation, who were now in a high -state of delight, feeling that there was going to be a real battle, and -that there would be some glory in contending with an able-bodied man, -who would not speak about charity, and say "dear brethren"--words which -always excite a secret feeling of disgust in a Scot. The minister stood -up opposite the congregation, tall, square and alert. "Will you pay -attention and I'll lay down the law; if any one breaks the law he must -sit down at once, and if he does not, I shall not allow him to vote. You -can propose any candidate who is legally qualified, and I will allow one -man to propose him and another to second him, and I will give each five -minutes in which to speak to the excellence of his candidate, and the -moment any person refers to another candidate he must stop. When the -candidates have been proposed we shall take the vote, and we shall go on -voting until we settle upon the candidate who has the majority, and we -will do all this in an hour, and then we will sing a Psalm and go home." - -During this address several stalwart fighters were seen to nod to one -another, and one went the length of slapping his leg, and already the -moderator had acquired the respect of his turbulent congregation. -The handsaw arose and proposed his candidate, and almost immediately -attacked the other party. "Sit down, sir," said the moderator, "you're -out of order," and after a brief stare of amazement and a measuring of -the force against him, the handsaw gave a glance around and collapsed. -A candidate was proposed from the other side, but his name was hardly -mentioned before the mover commenced to refer to the handsaw. "You are -out of order," said the moderator; "not another word," and, although the -female leader of that side nodded to him to go on, he thought better, -and also collapsed. Then an astute old strategist at the back, who had -embroiled many a meeting, and who was sitting with a law book in -his hand, proposed that they should delay the election until another -meeting. "That motion," said the moderator, "I shall not receive. We -have not met to delay; we have met to vote." Whereupon another Scot -arose and stated that he had risen to a point of order, which is always -the excuse by which the proceedings can be interrupted. "What," he said, -"I want to know is this: Is it regular to vote when there was no notice -given that the voting was to take place?" "There was notice given," said -the moderator; "sit down in your place." "Can I not object?" he said. -"No," he said, "you can't." He looked around the meeting. "What," he -said, "is the use of being a Presbyterian if I am not allowed to object? -I might as well be an Episcopalian." The moderator, still standing, eyed -him, and said: "Are you going to sit down or are you not?" "Do you order -me to sit down in your private or in your public capacity?" said the -recalcitrant. "As a man or as a moderator?" For nothing delights a Scot -more than to make this contrast between public and private capacity, -like the Scotch magistrate, who said, "In my public capacity I fine you -five shillings for the assault; in my private capacity I would have done -the same myself." "As moderator," said the minister, "I command you to -take your place." "I consent--I consent," said the Scot, with infinite -relish, like a man who had had a wrestling match and had been fairly -beaten, and he leant back to a friend behind, saying, "Sall, he's a lad, -the moderator," for this is the way in which a man wins respect from -Scots. In a moment he had risen again. "Moderator," he said, "ye -commanded me in yir official capacity to sit doon, and I obeyed, -but"--and there was a silence through the church--"I'll no sit down -for that woman," indicating the elder's wife. "She would turn round and -order me to sit down as if I had been her husband, but, moderator," he -said, "I thank the Almichty I'm not." - -Greatly cheered by this episode, the congregation proceeded to vote, the -leaders taking objections to different voters, which were all overruled -by the moderator, who was now going from strength to strength. And then -at last a minister was elected by a large majority. "Now," said the -moderator, "you've had a fair fight and a year's argument, and there is -not a privilege you have not used, and you have done a thousand things -you had no right to do, and I appeal to the minority to agree with -the majority, as Scots ought to do when they have had their rights." -Whereupon the handsaw arose and declared that he was never prouder of -the Scotch Church than he had been during the last year, and that in all -his life he had never spent a happier time. "We've had a grand argument -and richt stand up fecht, and now," he said, "I'm willing, for masel, -and I speak for my friends, to accept the minister that's been elected, -for I consider him to be a soond preacher and vary spiritual in the -exercises. The fact is," he added, "I would have been content with him -at ony time, but it would have been a peety to have had an immediate -election and to have missed this year. When he comes he'll have my -hearty support, and I'm willing to agree that he should have a proper -stipend, and that the manse be papered and painted and put in order for -his coming." As he sat down he could be heard over all the church saying -to himself with immense satisfaction, "It's been a michty time, and the -law's been well laid down this nicht." The minister gave out the Psalm-- - - "How good a thing it is, and - How becoming well, - To gather such as brethren are - In unity to dwell!" - -Which was sung with immense spirit, and, after the benediction, every -man whom the minister had ordered to sit down came up and shook hands -with him, assuring him that they knew all the time that he was right, -and that they respected him for his ability. They also entreated him -to come and administer the sacrament before the new minister arrived, -believing that a man who could rule with so firm a hand would be an -acceptable preacher of the gospel. - - - - -XVI.--AN EXPERT IN HERESY - - -EVERY country has its own sports, and Scotland has golf, but golf only -satisfies the lighter side of the Scots; the graver side of the Scot -finds its exercise in the prosecution of a heretic. Nothing so delights -this theological and argumentative people as a heresy hunt, and they -have no more ill-will to a heretic than sportsmen have to a fox. It -sometimes occurs to me that they dally with cases in order that they may -be prolonged, and that the sportsmen may have a good run after the -fox. I have even dared to think that they would be willing to preserve -heretics as foxes are preserved in hunting counties in order that they -might have a good time now and again. Every one throws himself into a -heresy case, from the highest to the lowest, from the Duke in his castle -to the shepherd on the hills, from the lawyer in his office to the -railway guard in his van. They all read about it and form their opinion, -and take sides and watch the event, and the issue of the case is a -national incident. From the conflict of wits, in which the hardest heads -have tried conclusions on the deepest subjects, the people return to -business shrewder than ever, more confident and self-satisfied. - -We had missed the connexion, and the North train had gone fifteen -minutes ago, and how I was to reach the station of Pitrodie that night -was a question beyond solution. The station master could give no help, -and only suggested that I might sleep at the inn and take the morning -train, but in that case I would have been too late for the funeral to -which I was going. When he heard the nature of my errand he bestirred -himself with much more zeal, for, although a Scot may not facilitate -your journey for a marriage, which he regards as an event of very -doubtful utility, and associated with little geniality, he is always -ready to assist you to a funeral to which the heart of the Scotch people -goes out with pathetic interest. - -"Would you mind travelling in the guard's van of a luggage train and ye -would be in fine time?" - -On the contrary, I would be delighted, for I had never travelled in such -circumstances, and the guard's van would be a pleasant variety upon a -third-class carriage. - -The guard received me with considerable cordiality and gave me his -seat in the van, which was decorated with pictures of kirks and eminent -divines. For a while he was engaged with various duties, shunting trucks -and making up his train, but after we had started and were out upon the -line he came and placed himself opposite. - -"Now," he said, "we've a run of twenty miles, and it's not likely we'll -be interrupted, for the rails are clear at this time of night, and we're -an express goods. I regard it," he said, "as a providence that ye lost -yer train, for if I'd been asked what I would like this very nicht I -would ha said, 'Gie me a minister.'" - -When I expressed my pleasure at his respect for the cloth, and my -willingness to be of any service to him, he waved his hand as one -does who has been misunderstood. "It's no," he said, "releegious -conversation that I'm wantin', although I'm willing enough to have that -at a time, but there's a point in the Robertson-Smith heresy case that I -would like to have cleared up to my satisfaction." - -A tall and grey-bearded man, about fifty years of age, with a keen eye -and a shrewd face, he leant forward from his place, and, with the light -of the lamp shining on his face, he began: "Now, ye see, the first -article in the libel against Prof. Robertson-Smith has to do with the -construction of the Book of Deuteronomy," but I will not inflict what he -said, for it took ten miles of the railway to open up his point. As we -rattled along the birling of the heavy break van was like music to words -of sonorous sound--"Pentateuch," "Mosaic Authorship," "Confession of -Faith." - -For another ten miles we discussed the length and breadth of the eminent -Hebrew scholar's views till we reached a crisis, which happened also to -be a junction on the railway. "One minute," he said, "and we maun stop, -for we're coming to the junction." The point we were at was the place -of the Song of Solomon in the Old Testament. "Now, I contend," he -continued, "that it hes to be read spiritually, and I've given three -reasons. I've three mair, but I maun shunt the trucks. I'll be back in -ten minutes, and ye'll not forget that the discussion is no closed -but just adjourned, and I've the richt to give the other three reasons -before ye reply." And then, after the three had been given and thirty -more, we parted as the day was breaking. At Pitrodie station he crossed -the platform with me, and shook hands till my bones were almost broken. - -"It's been a very edifying nicht, and I'll gie fair consideration to all -your arguments. Mind ye, I'm proud o' the Professor, for he's a michty -scholar, and I wouldna like to see him put out o' the kirk, but I'm -jalousing that he's a heretic." I stood at a turn of the road and saw -the train pass, and my friend waved his hand to me from the back of the -van, but I could see him sadly shake his head. He was still jalousing -(suspecting) that Prof. Robertson-Smith was a heretic. - - - - -XVII.--THE SCOT AT AN ARGUMENT - - -IT is difficult for one nation to perfectly understand another, and -there is a certain quality of the Scots' intellect which is apt to try -the patience of an Englishman. It is said that an Englishman was once -so exasperated by the arguing by a Scot, who took the opposite side on -every subject from the weather to politics, that at last he cried out in -despair: "You will admit at least that two and two make four," to which -the delighted Scot replied with celerity, "I'll admit naething, but I'm -willing to argue the proposition." It is not recorded whether the Scot -escaped alive, but it is hardly possible to believe that he was not -assaulted. You may be the most conciliatory of people, and may even be -cleansed from all positive opinions--one of those people who are said to -be agreeable because they agree with everybody; and yet a thoroughbred -Scot will in ten minutes or less have you into a tangle of prickly -arguments, and hold you at his mercy, although afterwards you cannot -remember how you were drawn from the main road into the bramble patch, -and you are sure that the only result was the destruction of your peace -of mind for an afternoon. But the Scot enjoyed himself immensely, and -goes on with keen zest to ambush some other passenger. What evil -spirit of logic has possessed this race? an English person cannot -help complaining, and why should any person find his pleasure in wordy -debate? - -From his side of the Tweed and of human nature the Scot is puzzled and -pained by the inconsequence and opportunism of the English mind. After -a Scot, for instance, has proved to his Southern opponent that some -institution is absolutely illogical, that it ought never to have -existed, and ought at once to be abolished, and after the Scot pursuing -his victorious way of pure reason, has almost persuaded himself that -a thing so absurd never has existed, the Englishman, who has been -very much bored by the elaborate argument, will ask with a monstrous -callousness whether the institution does not work well, and put forward -with brazen effrontery the plea that if an institution works well, it -does not matter whether it be logical or not. Then it is that a Scot -will look at an Englishman in mournful silence and wonder upon what -principle he was created. - -The traveller no sooner crosses the border from the genial and -irresponsible South than he finds himself in a land where a nation forms -one huge debating society, and there is a note of interrogation in the -very accent of speech. When an English tourist asked his driver what -was the reason of so many religious denominations in Scotland, and the -driver, looking down upon a village with six different kirks, answered, -"Juist bad temper, naething else," he was indulging his cynicism and -knew very well that he was misinforming the stranger. - -While it is absolutely impossible to make plain to an average Englishman -the difference between one kirk and another in Scotland, yet every one -has its own logical basis, and indeed when one considers the subtlety -and restlessness of the Scots intellect he wonders, not that there -have been so many divisions, but that there have been so few in Scots -religion. By preference a Scot discusses Theology, because it is the -deepest subject and gives him the widest sphere for his dialectic -powers, but in default of Theology he is ready to discuss anything else, -from the Game Laws to the character of Mary, Queen of Scots. He is the -guardian of correct speech and will not allow any inaccuracy to pass, -and therefore you never know when in the hurry of life you may not -be caught and rebuked. When I asked a porter in Stirling Station one -afternoon at what hour the train for Aberfoyle left I made a mistake -of which I speedily repented. _The_ train for Aberfoyle--I had assumed -there was only one train that afternoon, for this beautiful but remote -little place. Very good, that was then the position I had taken up and -must defend. The porter licked his lips with anticipation of victory, -for he held another view. "_The_ train for Aberfoyle," he repeated -triumphantly. "Whatna train div ye mean?"--then severely as one exposing -a hasty assumption--"there's a train at 3.10, there's another at 3.60, -there's another at 6.30" (or some such hours). He challenged me to reply -or withdraw, and his voice was ringing with controversy. When I made an -abject surrender he was not satisfied, but pursued me and gained another -victory. "Very good," I said, "then what train should I take?" He was -now regarding me with something like contempt, an adversary whom it was -hardly worth fighting with. That depended on circumstances he did not -know and purposes which I had not told him. He could only pity me. "How -can I tell," he said, "what train ye should go by, ye can go by ony -train that suits ye, but yir luggage, being booked through, will travel -by the 3.10." During our conversation my portmanteau which I had placed -under his charge was twice removed from its barrow in the shifting of -the luggage, and as my friend watched its goings (without interfering) -he relaxed from his intellectual severity and allowed himself a jest -suitable to my capacity. "That's a lively portmanteau o' yours. I'm -judging that if ye set it on the road it would go Aberfoyle itsel'." -When we parted on a basis of free silver he still implied a reproach, -"so ye did conclude to go by the 3.10, but" (showing how poor were my -reasoning faculties even after I had used them) "ye would have been as -soon by the 3.50." For a sustained and satisfying bout of argument one -must visit a Scot in his home and have an evening to spare. Was it not -Carlyle's father who wrote to Tom that a man had come to the village -with a fine ability for argument, and that he only wished his son were -with them and then he would set Tom on one side of the table and this -man on the other place, and "a proposeetion" between them, and hear them -argue for the night? But one may get pleasant glimpses of the national -sport on railway journeys and by the roadside. A farmer came into the -carriage one summer afternoon, as I was travelling through Ayrshire, who -had been attending market and had evidently dined. He had attended to -the lighter affairs of life in the sale of stock and the buying of a -reaping machine, and now he was ready for the more serious business of -theological discussion. He examined me curiously but did not judge -me worthy, and after one or two remarks on the weather with which I -hastened to agree, he fell into a regretful silence as of one losing -his time. Next station a minister entered, and the moment my -fellow-passenger saw the white tie his eyes glistened, and in about -three minutes they were actively engaged, the farmer and the Minister, -discussing the doctrine of justification. The Minister, as in duty -bound, took the side of justification by faith, and the farmer, simply I -suppose to make debate and certainly with a noble disregard of personal -interests--for he had evidently dined--took the side of works. Perhaps -it may seem as if it was an unequal match between the Minister and the -farmer, since the one was a professional scholar and the other a -rustic amateur. But the difference was not so great as a stranger might -imagine, for if a minister be as it were a theological specialist every -man in Scotland is a general practitioner. And if the latter had his -own difficulties in pronouncing words he was always right in the text -he intended. They conducted their controversy with much ability till we -came to the farmer's station, and then he left still arguing, and with -my last glimpse of that admirable Scot he was steadying himself against -a post at the extremity of the platform, and this was his final -fling: "I grant ye Paul and the Romans, but I take my stand on James." -Wonderful country where the farmers, even after they have dined, take -to theology as a pastime. What could that man not have done before he -dined. - -In earlier days, the far back days of youth, I knew a rustic whose -square and thick-set figure was a picture of his sturdy and indomitable -mind. He was slow of speech and slow also of mind, but what he knew he -held with the grip of a vice and he would yield nothing in conversation. -If you said it was raining (when it might be pouring) he would reply -that it was showery. If you declared a field of com to be fine he said -that he had seen "waur" (worse), and if you praised a sermon he -granted that it wasna bad; and in referring to a minister distinguished -throughout the land for his saintliness he volunteered the judgment that -there was "naething positively veecious in him." Many a time did I try, -sometimes to browbeat him, and sometimes to beguile him into a positive -statement and to get him to take up a position from which he could -not withdraw. I was always beaten, and yet once I was within an ace of -success. We had bought a horse on the strength of a good character -from a dealer, and were learning the vanity of speech in all horse -transactions, for there was nothing that beast did not do of the things -no horse ought to do, and one morning after it had tried to get at James -with its hind legs, and then tried to bring him down with its fore legs, -had done its best to bite him, and also manoeuvred to crush him against -a wall, I hazarded the suggestion that our new purchase was a vicious -brute. He caught the note of assurance in my voice, and saw that he had -been trapped; he cast an almost pathetic look at me as if I was inviting -him to deny his national character and betray a historic part of -unbroken resistance. He hesitated and looked for a way of escape while -he skilfully warded off another attack, this time with the teeth, and -his face brightened. "Na!" he replied, "I'll no admit that the horse -is veecious, we maun hae more experience o' him afore we can pass sic a -judgment, but"--and now he just escaped a playful tap from the horse's -fore-leg--"I'm prepared to admit that this momin' he is a wee thingie -liteegious." And so victory was snatched from my hand, and I was again -worsted. - -If the endless arguing of the Scot be wearisome to strangers and one -would guess is a burden to himself, yet it has its advantages. It has -been a discipline for the Scots mind, and the endless disputations on -doctrine and kirks as well as more trifling matters like history and -politics has toughened the Scots brain and brought it to a fine edge. -When I hear a successful Scot speak lightly of the Shorter Catechism, -then I am amazed and tempted to despise him, for it was by that means -that he was sent forth so acute and enterprising a man, and any fortune -he has made he owes to its training. He has been trained to think and -to reason, to separate what is true from what is false, to use the -principles of speech and test the subtlest meaning of words, and -therefore, if he be in business, he is a banker by preference, because -that is the science of commerce, and if he be an artizan, he becomes an -engineer because that is the most skilful trade, and as a doctor he is -spread all over the world. Wherever hard thinking and a determined will -tell in the world's work this self-reliant and uncompromising man is -sure to succeed, and if his mind has not the geniality and flexibility -of the English, if it secretly hates the English principle of -compromise, and suspects the English standard of commonsense, if it be -too unbending and even unreasonably logical, this only proves that no -one nation, not even the Scots, can possess the whole earth. - - - - -XVIII.--UPON THE LECTURE PLATFORM - - -THERE are four places where a man may lecture, exclusive of the open -air, which is reserved for political demonstrations and religious -meetings, and I arrange the four in order of demerit. The worst is, -beyond question, a church, because ecclesiastical architects have no -regard for acoustics, and a lecturer is apt to crack his voice yelling -into the corners of churches. - -People come to a church, also, in a chastened mood, and sit as if they -were listening to a sermon, so that the unhappy lecturer receives little -encouragement of applause or laughter, and, if he happens to be himself -a clergyman, is hindered from doing anything to enliven the audience. -Besides, the minister of the church will feel it his duty to introduce -the leading members of his congregation after the lecture, and a -reception of this kind in the vestry is the last straw on a weary -lecturer's back. He cannot, however, refuse because he is a fellow -professional, and knows that his discourtesy may be set to the debit of -the minister. Next in badness is a public hall, because it is so bare -and cheerless, and on account of its size is difficult to fill with -an audience, and still more difficult with the voice. Drill halls, -especially, are heart-breaking places, because they are constructed -for the voices of commanding officers shouting "right wheel," "march," -"fire," and such like martial exhortations. - -There is also another objection to halls from the lecturer's standpoint, -and that is the accessibility of the platform. Usually there are two -sets of steps, which the audience consider have been constructed in -order that they may come on the platform in a body and shake hands with -the lecturer. If a lecturer be a human being, he is always glad to see -two or three of his fellow-creatures, especially if they say something -encouraging, but just because he is a human being and has spoken for an -hour and a half, he is apt to lose heart when he sees half of his large -audience, say seven hundred people, processing in his direction. - -It is on such an occasion that he is full of gratitude to a manager who -will come in with his travelling coat and march the lecturer out at -the back door, as a man in haste to catch his train or on any other -pretence. - -A lecturer may count himself fortunate, and need have no anxiety about -circumstances, who speaks from the stage of a theatre, because he will -have his whole audience within convenient compass, and focussed upon -him, and although he comes down to a whisper he will still be heard. -When you lecture at a theatre you are known as the "star," and as you -cross the dark and mysterious under-world behind the stage you hear some -one crying: "This way to the star's room," which generally turns out to -be the room of the leading actress, where you may spend a quarter of an -hour in seeing yourself in the innumerable mirrors, and examining the -long array of toilet instruments on the table. - -Theatrical people are most sympathetic and good-natured, and although -they may not have the faintest idea who you are or what you are going to -do, they always wish you well, and congratulate you if there is a good -house. Their own house may not have been good last night, but they are -glad if yours is good to-day. - -The crowning advantage of a theatre to a nervous and hard-wrought -lecturer is its seclusion. You get in and out by the stage door, and -there is not one person in a hundred of your audience could find that -door, and if he did he would not get admittance. From the floor to the -stage there is no way, and when you pass behind the curtain you are -beyond reach even of an interviewer. - -When I become an impresario I shall never allow my "star" to be seen, -except on the platform, and after he has done his work I will remove him -swiftly in a closed conveyance. In this way I shall lay him under a debt -of gratitude, and keep him in good humour, and get out of him a third -more work. As I have no idea of entering on this business at present, -I offer the hint to all impresarios everywhere, with my respectful -compliments. - -If a lecturer could always choose--which practically he never can do -at all--he would prefer to lecture to a club of men and women in their -club-room, or in the large drawing-room of a private house. He will then -address a limited number of bright people who are at their best; he can -talk as at a dinner-table and make his point easily; he can venture on -an aside, or stop to tell an anecdote, and after an hour or so he will -be as little fatigued as when he began. When the lecture is over he -mixes with his audience and in a minute is a private individual. This -is the very refinement and luxury of lecturing, which a lecturer enjoys -only on rare occasions. - -Local arrangements differ very much, and some of them are rather trying -to a lecturer. There are places where a regular procession is formed -and marches to the platform, headed by a local dignitary, and made up -of clergymen, magistrates, little millionaires, and public characters -of all kinds and degrees. In midst thereof the lecturer marches like a -criminal being taken to the scaffold. - -Once I discovered in the ante-room a magnificent embroidered robe, and -the insane idea took possession of my mind that it was intended for the -lecturer. Had it been put upon me there would have been no lecture, for -I should have been smothered with its greatness and its grandeur. I -was still regarding it with horror and perspiring freely when the chief -magistrate of the city came in, and it was put on his shoulders by two -liveried servants, who then decorated us all, from the chief magistrate -down to myself, with flowers. The servants marched first into the hall, -the great man followed, and I crept, following behind his majestic -figure (which was received with frantic howls of applause), and this was -the grandest entry I ever made upon the lecture platform. - -In some places there is a chairman--I shall have something to say -about chairmen--and votes of thanks, first to the lecturer, then to the -chairman and to other people who have had some connexion or other with -the matter, till a third of the time is taken up by local talk and the -lecturer is put to confusion. - -For votes of thanks I have personally an intense dislike, because the -movers refer to one in terms which might suitably apply to William -Shakespeare (one enthusiastic admirer preferred me to Shakespeare, -because, although he classed us together as occupying a solitary -position, I had the advantage of being more sentimental). As a lecturer -on Scots subjects I have a horror of other speakers, because they feel -it necessary to tell Scots stories without knowing the dialect, and -generally without knowing the story. - -Certain places are very business-like in their arrangements, and the -smartest in this respect is, curious to say, not in America, but in -England. You are brought to the place of operation five minutes before -the hour, and at two minutes to eight placed upon the platform. When the -hand of the clock points to eight you begin to speak, and when the hand -stands at nine you close. If you are one minute late in beginning, the -audience grows restless, and if you are five minutes late in closing, -they leave. There are no preliminaries and no after-talk, and you do -your best with one of the most intelligent audiences any lecturer could -address in sixty minutes. - -The most risky audience in my experience is afforded by the free -lectures given in an English city, which is made up by men who have -dropped in from the streets because the hall is open and because -something is going on. If they are interested they will listen eagerly -and reward the lecturer with enthusiastic applause, besides giving an -irrelevant cheer occasionally for Old Ireland or Lord Roberts. If the -audience is not interested they leave in solid blocks of fifty, without -any regard to the lecturer's feelings, or the disturbance of their -neighbours. - -The most sympathetic and encouraging audience a man can have are the -students of an American ladies' college, because if he is nervous, as -an Englishman is bound to be before three hundred bright American young -women, they will catch his first point, and they will smile upon him and -show that they believe there is something in him if he could only get it -out, and create such a kindly atmosphere that he will rise to his height -and do his best. - -This was how the students of a delightful college not very far from -Philadelphia treated myself when I was almost ready to sink through -the floor from sheer terror of facing so many young women, being a -sisterless and daughterless man, and I wish to thank one young lady who -sat in the front and smiled encouragement upon me until I lifted up my -head and took heart. - -I have never utterly collapsed, and have never fled from the platform, -but I was reduced to confusion and incoherence of speech when I opened -a clubhouse for a company of women students at a certain American -University, and my whole audience suddenly flopped down upon the floor -as I began my little speech. As the floor had a beautiful carpet and -there were no chairs, the young ladies no doubt did well for themselves, -but as I looked down upon that fair flower-garden all my thoughts -vanished, and I do not think that I uttered a grammatical sentence. - -American young women do not know that an Englishman is the most bashful -creature on the face of the earth, and that he would rather face an -audience of two thousand men from the streets than address twenty young -women, every one as sharp as a needle and as pretty as a flower. - -My experience of chairmen is wide and varied, and I have lectured under -the Presidency of some very distinguished and able men, but on the whole -I would rather be without a chairman. There was one who introduced me in -a single sentence of five minutes' length, in which he stated that as he -would treasure every word I said more than pure gold he did not wish to -curtail my time by a single minute. He then fell fast asleep, and I had -the honour of wakening him at the close of the lecture. Had he slept -anywhere else I should not have had the smallest objection, but his -restful attitude in the high estate of the chair had an unedifying and -discomposing effect on the audience. - -On the whole, I preferred that chairman to another who introduced me to -the extent of twenty-five minutes, and occupied the time in commending -to the exasperated audience the claims of a foundling asylum with which -he had some charitable connexion. This time it was the lecturer who fell -asleep and had to be wakened when the audience drove the chairman to his -seat. - -A lecturer is also much refreshed amid his labour by the assurance of -the chairman that he has simply lived upon his books for years, and has -been looking forward to this evening for the last three months with high -expectation, when after these flattering remarks he does not know -your name, and can only put it before the audience after a hurried -consultation with the secretary of the lecture course. - -My memory returns also with delight to a chairman who insisted that one -object had brought them together, and that I was no stranger in that -town because the whole audience before him were my friends, and then -having called me Doctor Maclaren and Ian Watson, besides having hinted -more than once at Mr. Barrie, introduced me to an uproarious audience as -Mr. Ian John Maclaren Watson. - -It is, of course, my gain, and the loss of two more distinguished -fellow-countrymen, that I should be hopelessly associated in the minds -of many people with Mr. Crockett and Mr. Barrie. But when one speaker -declared that I would be remembered by grateful posterity as the Stickit -Minister, I was inclined to protest, for whatever have been my defects -as a preacher, I still have succeeded in obtaining a church; and when -another speaker explained he had gone three times to see my "Little -Minister," I felt obliged to deny myself the authorship of that -delightful play. - -Allusions on the part of the audience, when they shook hands with me -afterwards, I allowed to paas because there was not time to put things -right; merely smiling at the mention of "A Window in Thrums," and -looking modest at the adjectives heaped upon "The Raiders." My cynical -humour was greatly tickled with the chairman, who had been very cordial -with me in private, and who was understood by the public to have been -closely identified with my visit to his city, when he not only escaped -from the stage after he had introduced me, but also immediately left the -theatre and cheerfully betook himself to his office without hearing one -word of the lecture. Perhaps he had discovered from some casual remark -of mine that I was not Mr. Barrie, and was at a loss to make out who I -could be. - -With mayors and other public functionaries who have to speak six times a -day on six different subjects, and who get a little confused as to which -meeting they are attending, I have the utmost sympathy, and never have -been discomposed by any reference to the management of hospitals or -the fallacy of bimetallism, even though the references were very -indifferently connected with the lecturer and his subjects. - -The labour of shaking hands afterwards with a considerable proportion -of your audience is not only lightened by their kindness, but also much -cheered by their conversation. After a few evenings in the United States -I arrived at the rooted conviction that the majority of the American -people belonged to the Scots race, and that America was the real -Scotland. It was not only that native-born Scots came forward to welcome -a fellow-countryman with an accent which was beyond all dispute and -could be heard six yards off, and with allusions to Auchterarder which -warmed your heart, but that every person seemed to be connected with -Scotland. - -One belonged to a family which had emigrated from Scotland in the -seventeenth century, and was anxious to know whether I could give him -any information on the family tree. Another had married a Scots wife, -and believed he owed his prosperity to her; a third was an admirer -of Sir Walter Scott, and looked forward to visiting Scotland as the -ambition of his life. And one lady, full of despair as she heard the -Scots claims of the people around her, came and confessed frankly: "I am -not Scots, and I have no relative a Scot, and none of our family married -a Scot, but my sister has a Scots nurse: will that do?" I assured her it -would, and that I was glad at last to meet a genuine American, because I -had come to see the American people. - -I have a vivid recollection of one place where a clan had turned out -to receive me, and I was escorted to the platform by a band of plaided -warriors, who, headed by a piper, marched me in and ranged themselves -round me on the platform. When the lecture was over, one clansman met me -in the anteroom, and I hardly recognized him; he was about three inches -taller and six inches bigger round the chest than before the lecture, -and was as a man intoxicated, though not with strong drink. - -"Mr. Maclaren," he said to me, "eh, but we are a michty people," and he -slapped his chest vigorously. I hinted that we had one or two faults to -modify our perfection, but he was not in a mood for such consideration. -"No worth mentioning," he said, and departed in glory. The national -prayer of our people is understood to be: "Lord, give us a good -conceit of ourselves," and this prayer in my compatriot's case had been -wonderfully fulfilled. - -Audiences vary very much in excellence, and it is difficult to -understand the reason, because you may have the most delightful and -the most difficult from the same class of people. Audiences are like -horses--some of them so hard in the mouth and spiritless that they -almost pull your arm out of the socket, and others so bright and -high-spirited that you hardly feel the reins in your hands, and -driving--that is to say, speaking--is a delight. - -The ideal audience is not one which accompanies you from beginning -to end with applause and laughter, but one that takes every point and -enjoys it with intelligent reserve, so that your illustrations may be -condensed into allusions, and a word conveys your humour. One of my -pleasures as a lecturer was to test every audience by a certain passage -which divided the sheep from the goats, and I think my enjoyment was -even greater when they were all goats. - -It came into a reading from the _Briar-Bush_ where the word -"intoxication" occurs. My custom was to stop and apologise for the -appearance of such a word in my book, and to explain that the word is -not known in Scots speech. There are, I used to say, two reasons why a -Scotsman does not employ the word. The first is that he is imperfectly -acquainted with the painful circumstances to which this word is supposed -to allude, and the second that a Scotsman considers that no one with -a limited human intellect can know enough about the conditions of his -fellow-creatures to make such a statement. - -When an audience took in the situation at once, then one could rest -for a moment, since they required that time to appreciate the rigid -temperance and conscientious literary accuracy of the Scotch people. -When they took the statement in perfect seriousness, and one or two -solemn reformers nodded their heads in high approval, then I wanted to -go behind the curtain and shake hands with myself. More than once it was -with difficulty I could continue in face of this unbroken seriousness, -and once I broke down utterly, although I hope the audience only -supposed I was laughing at some poor humour of my own. - -The cause of my collapse was not the faces of the audience, but the -conduct of a brother Scot, whose head went down below the seat as -he learned the two reasons why the word intoxicated is not used in -Scotland. When he emerged from the depths he cast a glance of delight in -my direction as to one who was true in all circumstances of his nation, -and then he was composing himself to listen with fresh confidence to a -lecturer who had given such pledges of patriotism, when he caught sight -of the faces of the audience. - -As it dawned upon him that the audience had taken the statement -literally, he was again obliged to go into retirement. Twice he made a -brave effort to regain possession of himself, but as often the sight of -the audience shook him to his foundation. At last he rose and left the -theatre, but at the door he lingered to take one look at the unconscious -audience, and then shaking his head in my direction with patriotic joy, -he departed from the building, and I was obliged to imagine an execution -in order to continue my lecture. - -The lecturer's nerves ought to be made of wire, for he never knows what -may happen. There is one town in the United States where the -express trains run down the main street, and you lecture there to an -accompaniment of engine bells and the blowing-off of steam. When the -music rises too high for the human voice, the lecturer in that town -ought to abandon the contest and offer between the whistles a few -remarks on the legislative power of American railways. These remarks -will be vastly enjoyed by the audience. - -Behind the platform of one large hall is the lift of the next building, -which is used at regular intervals of a minute, and you have your -sentences punctuated by the whoop of the unseen lift till at last you -can calculate the time and know that you have spoken ninety whoops, and -it is nearly time to stop. - -One night I was arrested by the sound of steady snoring which could be -heard over the larger part of the theatre, but although every one was -in search for the offender, he could not be found. At last the sound -was traced to the stage, and, as there was no one on the stage except -myself, to be behind the curtain. One of the servants of the theatre -had laid himself down there in order to enjoy the lecture, and that -had proved of such a solid character that he had fallen into a fit of -meditation, from which he was very rudely awakened. - -One evening in a Canadian town a fox terrier came in, and owing to some -difference of opinion with a gentleman in the stalls, expressed himself -in public. As there was to be a dog story in the lecture, I thought it -well to explain that the terrier had been engaged to take part, but had -broken in too soon. For a while the dog behaved with much propriety, and -then there was a second outbreak. - -Six gentlemen combined to get that dog out of the theatre, but not -without difficulty and danger. The terrier retired fighting. - -The platform does many good things for a lecturer; for one thing, it -strengthens his voice; it brings him into contact with large bodies of -his fellow-men, and it inspires him with humanity. Upon the platform -he learns to command himself; to take disappointments like a man; and, -above all, he gains a new conviction of the kindness and goodwill of -large bodies of people whom he has never seen before and may never see -again, and of whom he will ever think with a grateful heart. - - - - -XIX.--FOR THE SAKE OF A HORSE - - -IN the days of long ago I used to live in the summer-time upon a farm in -one of the rich plains of Scotland, where the soil was deep and we could -grow everything, from the fragrant red clover to the strong, upstanding -wheat. One reason why our farm bore such abundant crops was its -situation; for it lay, in the shape of the letter V, between two rivers -which met upon our ground. One of the rivers was broad and shallow, and -its clear water ran over gravel, brawling and fretting when it came upon -a large stone, and making here and there a pleasant little fall. This -river in the winter-time could rise high and run with a strong current, -and there were days and sometimes weeks when we could not send our men -and horses across its ford. We never hated this river, because, although -it could be angry and proud when the snow was melting on the distant -hill or a big thunder-cloud burst in the glens above us, it was never -treacherous and sullen; it had no unexpected depths into which a man and -horse might fall, but was open as the day, and its water was as bright. -Wherefore I have kindly thoughts of that stream, and when the sun is hot -in the city, and there is no unused air to breathe, I wish I were again -upon its banks and could see it gleaming underneath the bushes as it -sings its way past my feet. - -The other river was narrow, and ran in silence between its banks; or -rather it did not run, but trailed itself along like a serpent, deep, -black, and smooth. There was no end to its wicked cunning, for it -pretended to be only three feet deep and it was twelve, and sometimes it -hollowed out to itself a hole where a twenty-foot line would not touch -the bottom. One of its worst tricks was to undermine the bank so that -the green turf on which you stood became a trap, and, yielding beneath -your feet, unless you were very dexterous, shot you into the river. Then -unless you could swim, the river would drown you in its black water as -if with fiendish delight. - -Over this river, also, we required to have a ford; but in this case it -was not natural, for the bottom of this river was far below the surface -of the water, and it was soft, deep clay. Across the river, therefore, -the ford had to be built up with stones; and it was made in the shape -of a horseshoe, so that any one crossing must follow a rough half-circle -from bank to bank, and he had to keep to the line of the ford, for below -it the water poured into a depth of thirty feet. When the river was low -one could easily trace the ford, and there was no excuse for getting -into danger; but if the river had been fed by the upland rains, then -every sign of the ford was lost, and a man had to be very careful how -he picked his horse's way. And all the time the wicked water would be -bringing its weight to bear on him, in the hope of carrying him and his -horse and everything else that was with him over the edge. - -This river we loathed, and at the thought of its wickedness and its -tragedies--for twice I nearly lost my life in it--I still shudder, here -in my study. - -One afternoon I went down to the ford in order to warn a plowman that -he must not cross. That morning he had taken a load of grain to the -railway-, station, and now he was coming back with the empty cart and -two horses. During the day there had been rain upon the mountains, and -the river was swollen so that every sign of the ford was lost. - -I stood high up upon the bank, and when he came down the road on -the other side I shouted across the river--which was rising every -minute--that he must not on any account attempt it, but must turn back -and go round by the bridge. Of course he ought to have obeyed this -order, and I am not going to say that he was wise in what he did; but -safety would mean a detour of ten miles, and he knew not fear. It was -from his breed that our Highland regiment got their recruits and more -than one of our men had gone into the "Black Watch." - -"I'll risk it," he cried from the other side; and he made his -preparations for the daring enterprise, while I, on my side, could say -and do nothing more. All that remained for me was to watch, and, if it -were possible, in case of things coming to the worst, to give such help -as I could from the bank. - -It was a heavy two-wheeled cart he had, with one horse in the shafts and -another before, tandem-wise, and this kind of team could not be driven -from the cart. The driver must walk, holding the reins of the tandem -horse in his right hand, and, if necessary, guiding the horse in the -shafts with his left; and so they entered the stream. - -After the horses had gone a few yards into the water they wished to -stop; for they had an instinct of danger, all the more because they -were not free, but were strapped and chained, so that it would be almost -impossible for them to save their lives by swimming. Jock chided and -encouraged them, calling them by name, and they went in without any -more hesitation; for horses are full of faith, and trust their driver -absolutely if they know his voice and love him. Each of our men had a -pair of horses under his charge; and so close was the tie between the -men and their horses that the pair would come to their driver in the -field when he called them by name, and would allow another plowman to -handle them only under protest. - -Very carefully did Jock guide his team round the farther bend of the -horseshoe, but when they reached the middle of the stream the water -reached his waist and was lapping round his chest. Of course he could -not have stood had it not been that he was on the upper side, and had -the support of the shaft, to which he clung, still holding the reins of -the foremost horse and the bridle of the other. - -"Take care, Jock! for any sake, take care, man!" I yelled from my bank. -It was poor advice, but one had to say something as he looked on the -man and the horses, more than half covered by the stream, so lonely and -helpless. "You are at the turn now"; for we knew that the bend of the -shoe was at the middle of the stream. - -"It's a' richt," came back the brave, honest voice. "We'll win through"; -and now Jock turned the leader's head up-stream, and the cart began -to move round on the nearer turn of the horseshoe. Yes, they would win -through, for surely the worst was past, and I jumped upon the bank for -very joy, but ever watched the slightest movement, while every inch -seemed a mile and every moment an hour. - -Alas! there was no end to the deceit and wickedness of that river; for, -owing to some slight bend at a little distance higher up on the opposite -bank, the current ran with its main strength, not in the middle of the -channel, but toward the place where I was standing, and into a black -deep just at my feet. It beat upon the cart, and as I looked I could see -the cart begin to yield, and to be carried sidewise off the track of the -ford. I shouted--I know not what now; I think the plowman's name--but -Jock already had felt himself going with the cart as it turned round. He -called upon his horses: "Pull up, Star! Steady, lass!"--this to the mare -in his hand. - -The intelligent creatures answered to his voice and made a valiant -effort, Star plunging forward, and the mare--a wise old beast--straining -herself to recover the cart. For an instant the cart's further wheel was -pulled on to the track, and I saw the cart once more level in the water; -and again I shouted, calling both man and horses by their names. Then -the river, afraid that she was to be spoiled of her prey, put out all -her strength. The cart yields and sinks on the lower side and begins to -turn over. It is off the ford now, and will pull the horses after it, -and all that can be done is for Jock to let go the horses, who are now -struggling in desperation, and to save his own life. He could swim, and -was a powerful man, forty inches and more round the chest, and a fellow, -if you please, to toss the hammer on a summer evening. - -"For God's sake, let go the horses, Jock, and make for the bank!" And -I went to the edge where he was likely to come, and lying down upon my -chest, I twisted one arm round a sturdy bush, and was ready with the -other hand to catch Jock if he should be fighting his way through the -current and come within reach of shore. - -By this time the horse in the shaft was fighting on the edge of the -abyss, and only the top of one side-board of the cart could be seen, and -the upper shaft, which was standing straight out of the water. Star was -screaming with terror--and a horse's scream is a fearful sound--for if -only he could be free of the two chains that fastened him to the shaft, -he, a powerful young horse, would soon reach safety where the road came -out from the ford through the banks, up the slope, to dry land. And -Jock, forgetful of himself, was determined to give Star his chance -for life--Star, whom he had broken in as a colt, and taught to take an -oatmeal cake out of his pocket, of whom he boasted in the markets, and -for whom he had bought little brass ornaments to wear on his forehead -and chest. The mare was beyond redemption, and must perish with the -cart; she was old, and had done her work. But Star must not be drowned. -Already he has loosened the near chain and on one side Star is free, -and now, in the midst of that wild hurly-burly of plunging horses, Jock, -holding on to the projecting shaft with one hand, is reaching with the -other underneath the neck of the mare, to free the other chain from the -farther shaft. - -He succeeded, as I took it, at the very last moment; for Star, now on -the brink, made a desperate effort, and, shaking himself free of all -entanglement, swam into the quieter water, just above where I had hoped -to meet his driver. - -In another minute Star was standing on the road, shaking in every limb, -and hanging his head between his fore legs, with all the strength and -bravery taken out of him. - -Before he reached the bank, the cart and the mare, and poor Jock with -them, had been swept over the edge of the unseen ford into the deep -water below. Had Jock been free of the cart and horse he might have made -some fight for his life, even in that caldron; but, from the marks upon -his body, we judged that he had been struck, just when he loosed the -chain, by the iron hoofs of the mare in her agony, and had been rendered -unconscious. - -Within a second, horse and cart and man had disappeared, and the cruel -river had triumphed and was satisfied. - -Three days afterward we rescued his body from her grasp; and when we -carried it up to the bothy where he and his mates had lived together, -the roughest of them felt that this man had been a hero. - -No doubt he ought not to have dared so much; but having dared, he did -not flinch. His duty was that of every driver--to stick to the last by -his horses--and he did it to the uttermost. - -He was a rough man, Jock, who never read anything except the stories in -the weekly newspaper which used to circulate in the bothies. There were -times when Jock took a glass too much on a fair-day at Muirtown, and -then he was inclined to fight. His language, also, was not suited for -polite society, and his temper was not always under perfect control. - -Let me say it plainly: Jock was nothing but a Scots plowman, and all he -did that day was to save the life, not of a child or of a man, but of -a cart-horse worth about L50. It was, however, his bit of duty as Jock -understood it; all he had to give was his life, and he gave it without -hesitation and without fear. - - - - -XX.--NO RELEVANT OBJECTION - - -NEXT to the election of a minister nothing stirred the parish of -Thomgreen like an election of elders, and it may be truthfully said that -the people were far more concerned about the men whom they appointed to -this sacred office than about the man whom they sent to represent them -in Parliament. The people had also a keen sense of the kind of man who -was fit to be an elder, and there was many a farmer whom they would -have cheerfully elected to any board, and in whose hands they would have -trusted any amount of money, but whom they would never have dreamt of -making an elder. Persons who were by no means careful about their own -life, and one would not have supposed had any great concern about the -character of the officers of the Christian Church, had yet a fixed idea, -and a very sound one, about the qualifications for an elder; and if -one of themselves had been proposed would have regarded the idea as -an insult, not to them but to the Church. "Me an elder," he would have -said; "for ony sake be quiet; there maun be nae jokin' on sich subjects. -When you and me are made elders the kirk had better be closed." For -the word elder was synonymous in Thorngreen, and, indeed, in every -right-thinking parish, not only with morality and integrity, but with -gravity and spirituality. - -No parish could expect to have many men who filled the conditions, and -Thorngreen had a standing grievance that one man who was evidently an -elder by arrangement of providence would not accept the office. Andrew -Harris, of Rochally, as he was commonly called, after the name of his -farm, was of ancient Thorngreen blood, since his forbears had worked -land in the parish for many generations, and he himself had succeeded -his father, who was also an elder for thirty years. There was no sounder -farmer than Rochally, and what he had done by draining, limeing, and -skilful seeding was known unto all men; no straighter man in a bargain, -for the character of a young horse from Rochally was better than a -written document; no friendlier man in the kirkyard on a Sunday or at -Muirtown markets, and no more regular and attentive hearer in kirk. -Beyond all that, the parish knew, although it never said such things, -that Rochally was a religious man, who not only had worship in his -house, with his men servants and his women servants present, but also -worshipped God in all Christian living from year to year. He was also a -man of substance, and if that could be got with other things, the parish -preferred it in an elder, and he gave liberally to the Free Kirk, of -which, indeed, he was the mainstay. If he was not married, and was never -likely now to marry, it could not be helped, but there was nothing else -wanting to make him the perfect model of an elder. - -As regularly as there was a meeting for the election of elders, which -happened about every five years, the name of Mr. Andrew Harris, farmer -of Rochally, was proposed and seconded, and about to be placed on the -nomination form, when Rochally himself rose, and quietly but very firmly -requested that his name be dropped, "for reasons which are sufficient -to my own conscience." And although three ministers in succession, and a -generation of elders, had pleaded privately with Rochally, and had used -every kind of argument, they could not move him from his position. His -nomination was felt on each occasion to be a debt due to his character -and to the spiritual judgment of the congregation; but the people had -long ago despaired of his consent. Had they consulted his wishes they -would never have mentioned his name; but, at any rate, he made a point -of attending, and at once withdrawing. They were obstinate, and he was -obstinate, and the event had become a custom at the election of elders -in the Free Kirk. - -No one could even guess why Rochally refused office, and every one in -the Free Kirk was a little sore that the best and most respected member -on their roll should sit in his back seat Sunday after Sunday, and -attend every week meeting, and give the largest subscriptions, and also -gamer the utmost respect from without, and yet not be an elder. It was -also felt that if his name could only be printed on the nomination paper -and placed before the people, and the people unanimously elected him, -as they would do, then it would be hard for him to refuse, and if he did -refuse he would have to do what he had not done yet--give his reasons. -If they could only hold the meeting without his being present, or if, -by any innocent ruse, he could be kept from the meeting, then half the -battle would be won; and that is how it came to pass that the minister -and elders of Thomgreen Free Kirk stole a march upon Rochally. They had -been thinking for some time of adding to the eldership, for Essendy, the -father of the Session, had "won awa'" at eighty-seven, and Wester Mains -could only sit on sunny days in the garden; and while they were turning -the matter over in their minds--for nothing was done hurriedly in -Thomgreen--it spread abroad that Rochally was going away for the -unprecedented period of four weeks, partly to visit a sister's son who -had risen to high position in England, and partly to try some baths for -the mild rheumatism which was his only illness. It seemed a providential -arrangement, and one which they must use wisely, and if anything could -have been read on the severe countenances of Thomgreen, Rochally might -have guessed that some conspiracy was afoot when he bade his brethren -good-bye after Kirk one Sabbath. - -As soon as it was known that he had fairly departed, and as it was -perfectly certain there could be no communication with him from his -home except a weekly report of the briefest and most prosaic kind by the -foreman, the Session (that is, the Court of Elders) was called together, -and on two successive Sundays the people were summoned to a meeting for -the nomination of elders. It was held on the Monday following the second -Sunday, and was attended by almost the whole congregation. Six names -were proposed for three vacancies, but, of course, the climax of the -proceedings was the nomination of Mr. Andrew Harris, farmer at Rochally, -and the insertion of his name on the paper of nomination. The nomination -papers were given out on the following Sunday, and on the fourth and -last Sunday of Rochally's absence were returned into the hands of the -Session. Before he came home the Session had met, and as every single -communicant, without exception, had voted for Mr. Andrew Harris, farmer -at Rochally, the Session declared him elected, and when he sat in his -pew on the following Sunday he heard the edict for the ordination of -three elders on that day fortnight, and the first name was his own. - -It was creditable to the good manners of the people that though they -held their breath at the critical moment, none of them looked even -sideways to the pew where Rochally sat alone; but the minister's eye -fell on him from the pulpit, and as he noticed Rochally start and flush, -and grow pale, while a look of pain came over his face, the minister -became anxious, and began to regret their well-intentioned plot. -And when, according to the custom of the kirk, he announced that the -aforesaid persons would be ordained this day fortnight, unless "some -valid objection to their life and doctrine be stated to the Kirk Session -at a meeting to be held for that purpose before the service on Wednesday -evening," and when, even at that distance, he could see Rochally's hand -tighten upon the door of his pew and his head fall forward upon his -breast for an instant, as if he were in pain, he almost wished that they -had not meddled with the secret affairs of a man's life. The minister -was not surprised when Rochally did not call at the manse on Monday or -Tuesday to say that he could not accept the election, although that was -within his power, and he was not surprised, although much grieved, when -he saw Rochally standing in the shadow of the trees not far from the -vestry where the Kirk Session met. Although he had not the faintest idea -of the reason, he was now afraid of what was going to happen, and the -elders, as they came in one by one, having passed Rochally, who stood -apart among the trees, and gave no sign of recognition, were uneasy, -and had a sense of calamity. They knew nothing either, and were not able -even to imagine anything; but they also, having seen Rochally and caught -a faint glimpse of his face, would fain have burned the nomination -papers, and cancelled the whole election. - -The court was opened with prayer, in which the minister was very earnest -that they should be all guided by the Spirit of God and know His will. -And then the minutes were read, wherein the names of those elected were -mentioned, after which the minister declared the time had arrived for -receiving objections to the life and doctrine of the aforesaid persons, -and the beadle, being summoned from the dark kirk where he had been -sitting, was commanded to do his duty. Thereupon, having opened the -outer door of the vestry, as being a public place, he looked into the -darkness, and called upon any persons who could make valid objection -to the life or doctrine of Andrew Harris, farmer at Rochally, that he -should not be ordained an elder, to come forward and declare the same. -Many a time had the beadle made this challenge, and never before had it -been answered, but now, out from the darkness, came Rochally himself, -and entered the vestry. For a moment he was dazzled by the light of the -lamp, though it was never very bright, and as he stood before the -Session he passed his hand over his face. Then he stepped forward to the -table, and, leaning heavily on it with one hand, Rochally unveiled his -secret. - -"Moderator and Elders of the Kirk, I stand here in answer to your -commandment, and in obedience to my own conscience, to give you strong -reasons why Andrew Harris should never be ordained an elder in Christ's -Kirk, and why he is not worthy even to take the sacrament. - -"I ken well that my brethren have often wondered why I wouldna allow -my name to be mentioned for the eldership, and I have often feared that -they judged me as one who despised the call of the kirk, and wouldna put -his hand to the plough. If they did so, they were wrang, for God knows -how I have honoured and loved the Church, and He knows how glad and -proud a man I would have been to carry the vessels of the Lord. But I -dauma, I dauma. - -"It micht have been better if I had told the reason years ago, and saved -mysel' and the brethren much trouble; but it is hard for the Scots heart -to open itsel', and a man is jealous of his secret.' Maybe I sinned in -not confessing to the kirk in this place as I did elsewhere, and as I -confessed to my God. Gin it be so, I have suffered, and now the Lord's -hand is heavy upon me. - -"Lang years ago," and the strong man trembled, but no elder so much as -lifted his eyes, "I lived for a year, although none here will mind of -it, in another parish, where my father had a farm, and there, when I was -a young man, though no one here knows of it, being careless in my walk -and conversation, and resisting the Grace of God, I fell, and sinned -against the law of Moses and of Christ. - -"What the sin was it matters not now; but it was a great sin, such as -nothing but the blude o' Christ can cleanse away, and the guilt of it -was heavy upon my soul. God was merciful unto me, and His Spirit -moved me to that repentance which needeth not to be repented of. -Sic reparation as I could make I made, and them that were injured I -satisfied; but I have never been satisfied. They're all dead now that -had to do with it, long before they died they had forgotten it; but I -have never forgotten it, and the long years have never wiped it from my -memory. - -"There's ae man I envy every day, and mair the nicht than ever; no the -man who is rich and powerful, na, na, it is the man whose life is clean -and white fra his boyhood until this hour, who can turn over the pages -and let every man look on. One chapter o' my life I read alone every -day, and it canna be blotted out from before my eyes. Their hands maun -be dean which bear the vessels of the Lord, and my hands arena clean; -wherefore I take objection, being a true witness against the life of -Andrew Harris, and declare he is not fit to be an elder of the kirk." - -While Rochally was still standing, the minister knelt down, and the -elders with him; but Rochally stood, and the minister began to pray. -First of all, he confessed the sins of their youth and of later years -till every man's soul lay bare before his own eyes and the eyes of God, -then he carried them all, their lives and their sins, unto the Cross of -Calvary, and magnified before God the sacrifice for sin and the dying -love of the Saviour, and then he lifted up their souls in supplication -unto God upon His Throne, and besought the Judge of all, for Christ's -sake, to cast their transgressions behind His back and into the depths -of the sea; and, finally, he besought God to grant unto them all the -assurance of His mercy and the peace which passeth all understanding to -possess their hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. But he made no mention -of Rochally or Rochally's sin, so that one would have supposed it was -the minister and the elders, and not Andrew Harris, who were at the Bar. - -When they rose from their knees more than one elder was weeping, and -every man's face was white and serious, and still Rochally stood as if -he desired to go, but was not able till the minister gave the decision -of the court. The Spirit of the Holy Ministry, which is the most awful -office upon earth, and the most solemn, descended in special measure -upon the minister, a man still young and inexperienced, but who was now -coming out from the holy place of the Most High. - -"Andrew Harris, I ask you, in the name of the Kirk whom the Lord loved -and washed from her sins in His own blood, lovest thou the Lord Jesus -Christ?" Then the minister and the elders faded from before Rochally's -eyes, and the faithful, honest man who had sinned so long ago, and wept -so bitterly, stood face to face with the Master. - -"Lord," said he, for the first time lifting up his head, "Thou knowest -all things; Thou knowest that I love Thee." - -It was after midnight when the minister wrote out the minute of that -meeting, and it states that an objection was taken to the life of Andrew -Harris; but the Session ruled that it was not relevant, in which ruling -the objector acquiesced, and the Session therefore appointed that Andrew -Harris, farmer at Rochally, be ordained on the day appointed to the -office of elder in the Free Kirk of Thomgreen. - - - - -XXI.--WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN - -WHEN Carmichael was Free Kirk minister of Dramtochty, and in the days of -his youth, he had casual ways, and went at his own free will. He never -came across the moor behind his manse on a summer day, and entered -the cool pine wood which separated it from the ploughed land, without -sitting down beside a certain pool of a burn which ran through the -fringe of the wood. Because the water broke over a little rock and then -gathered in a cup of gravel, and there was a heather bank where he could -he as comfortably as in his favourite study chair, which had seen the -Rebellion, but had changed its covering as well as its creed more than -once since then; because the Highland cattle came to drink at that pool -if you were not fussy and suspicious; and because all the sounds of the -moor--the bleating of the sheep, the cry of the grouse, and the wail -of the whaup and the drone of the bees--mingled in one music, and fell -pleasantly upon your ear. "For five minutes only," he said to himself, -and then some Highland cows, with their absurd little calves, arrived, -and would have considered it ill-mannered for him to rise; and he fell -a-thinking while time flew. He rose with a start and hurried down to -the main road, and made for the bridge over the Tochty, fearful lest he -should be too late when the messenger came with momentous tidings from -the telegraph office at Kildrummie. - -For two years the Glen had been in the most delightful state of -intellectual ferment, and it was freely said by those who could remember -that conversation had not risen to such a high level for fifty years, -not even during '43. It goes without saying that the subject which -exercised the minds and tongues of the Glen had to do, not with markets, -but with Kirks; and while many had feared that the golden age of the -Disruption would never be repeated in Drumtochty, when children were -taught the doctrine of spiritual independence as they were supping their -porridge, and women spoke freely about the principle of "Coordinate -Jurisdiction with Mutual Subordination" as they hoed turnips in the -fields, even Jamie Soutar was compelled to allow that the present -debate had points of excellence altogether its own. While the spirit of -disruption had wonderfully sharpened the edge of the intellect, the new -spirit of concord which was abroad had still more powerfully quickened -the feelings of the heart. By the fireside, where the guidwife darned -the stockings and the guidman read the _Muirtown Advertiser_ from the -first word of the advertisements to the last word of the printer's name, -out at work where they were planting potatoes or reaping the com, on -the way to market as they walked down to Kildrummie station on Friday -morning or crammed themselves by fives and sixes into Hillocks' -dog-cart, but most of all in the kirkyard or at the Free Kirk door, -men and women had been discussing with unswerving honesty and amazing -subtlety, but with great goodwill and eager longing, how the differences -between the Free Kirk and the Established could be reconciled, and upon -what terms of honour and self-respect they could be united so that there -should be again one Kirk in Scotland, as in the former days. According -to the light which Providence had been pleased to give to other -parishes, which was as twilight to the sunlight of Drum-tochty, they -also argued this great affair, till even Kildrummie had pronounced ideas -on the subject; and Rabbi Saunderson, the minister of Kilbogie, had -announced a course of twenty-five sermons on the "Principle of Unity -in the Christian Church, considered biblically, theologically, -historically, and experimentally." The ecclesiastics on both sides had -not regarded the movement with conspicuous favour, and, while stating -that the end in view was not only admirable but one they had always -desired, they felt it their duty to point out difficulties. They -mentioned so many, indeed, and expounded them so faithfully, that it -would not have been wonderful if the people had lost heart and abandoned -a hopeless enterprise; for as a rule it had been the ecclesiastics who -spoke and the people who kept silence; the ecclesiastics who passed -measures and the people who paid for them. This time, however, the -younger ministers had taken the matter into their own hands, and refused -to serve themselves heirs to past controversies or to bind themselves to -perpetuate ancient divisions; they were men of another age, and intended -to face the new situation. There had been enough dividing in Scotland -since the days of the Covenanters; it was time there should be some -uniting, and when they were at it they wanted thorough-going and final -union. And the people, who in every country parish had, Sabbath after -Sabbath for more than a generation, passed one another in opposite -directions going to their kirks, began to inquire why they should not -all go in one direction and meet under one roof as their fathers had -done; and when people began to ask that question, both with their heads -and with their hearts, it was bound to be answered in one way. - -The ecclesiastics had yielded under pressure, and as Carmichael went -down to the bridge he recalled, with a keen sense of humour, their -marvellous proceedings and the masterly game which had been played by -the diplomatists of the Kirks, their suave expressions of brotherly -love, their shrewd foresight of every move, their sleepless watchfulness -of one another, their adroit concessions which yielded nothing, their -childlike proposals which would have gained everything, and their -cheerful acquiescence in every delay. But the temper of the people was -not to be trifled with, and if the young party among the clergy were not -skilled in the wiles of Church Courts, they had considerable vigour of -speech, and the managers of affairs were given to understand that they -must bring things quickly to a head. Early last spring the leader of -the Free Kirk had submitted his terms, which the Established Kirk men -studied together for three days and then read in seven different ways, -and they in turn submitted their proposals, which were so simple and -direct that the great Free Kirk man was genuinely disappointed, and -wished that it had been his lot to negotiate with a Roman cardinal. But -the people were getting impatient, and when the Assemblies met in the -end of May, the pleasant spring-time, the terms had been adjusted, and -Carmichael ran over them as he came down the near road through Hillocks' -farm and pronounced them good. That the Free Church and the Established -should unite together; that its legal title should be the Church of -Scotland; that it should retain the ancient endowments and all -the accumulated funds of both the former Churches; that the -newly-constituted Church of Scotland should cease its legal connexion -with the State, but maintain the old parochial system; that the new -Church should re-arrange its resources so as to meet every religious and -moral want in Scotland, and work with the State for the well-being of -the Scots Commonwealth. The motions were proposed about the same time -in the two Assemblies, in speeches worthy of the occasion: in the -Established Kirk by a Scots noble; in the Free Kirk by the ablest -ecclesiastical statesman of his day; Carmichael was thankful that he was -in the Free Kirk Assembly when the motion was carried, with tears -and cheers, none objecting, and that he was in time, with a fearful -struggle, to get his head within the door of the Tolbooth, when the -ministers and elders of the Established Kirk stood up as one man at -the bidding of their moderator, and before Her Majesty's Lord High -Commissioner, and declared for union; and thankful that he was one -of the crowd that poured out of both Assemblies in the High Street of -Edinburgh and heard the bells of St. Giles, which had been the witness -of many a fierce conflict, ringing out the news of peace and concord -through the grey capital of the nation. - -There was still one risk to be run and one barrier to be surmounted, for -the concordat of the Church required the sanction of Parliament. Through -the summer days the battle had been fought in the lobbies and committee -rooms of the House of Commons, and that afternoon it was to be decided; -and up to the last there was a chance that the bill might be thrown out, -and the heart's desire of Scotland once more refused at Westminster. For -there were cross-currents which no man could calculate; there were stiff -old Tories who hated the idea of the Church being disestablished; keen -Radicals who were determined that the Church should be also disendowed; -Episcopalians who were eager that the title of the Church of Scotland -should be left open to be claimed by that respectable, though limited, -dissenting community, which traces its descent through Archbishop Sharpe -and John Graham of Claverhouse; and a balance of men who disliked all -Churches equally, and were always ready to hinder religion, when they -could get an opportunity. If the bill were thrown out it would be a sad -calamity, and Lord Kilspindie had promised to telegraph to Dr. Davidson -the moment the bill passed the Commons; for it had been taken first in -the Lords (and carried with a brisk fight), and Carmichael proposed to -meet the messenger at Tochty bridge, and escort him to the manse. - -It did not, however, surprise Carmichael to find the minister of the -parish of Drumtochty walking to and fro on the level ground from which -the wonderful arch of the ancient bridge sprang, and talking affably -with Hillocks on the prospects of harvest, but keeping all the time a -watchful eye on the distant point on the other side of the Glen where -the road emerged from the pine woods and the Kildrummie messenger would -first be seen. - -"Glad to see you, Carmichael," said the doctor, with just the faintest -suggestion of excitement in his manner; "I left a message at the manse -that if you called they were to send you down to the bridge, but I -rather suspected you would be here. For myself, I frankly confess -I could neither sit nor read, so I just turned out to wait for the -messenger. It's a historical day, Carmichael, charged with great issues -for Scotland." - -They climbed the stiff ascent, and stood on the arch through which the -Tochty ran, clear and sparkling, that summer evening. - -"More than a century of Scots history has run since this bridge was -built, some of it sad enough; but, please God, we shall see good days -before they build the new bridge. What hinders the messenger? Kilspindie -expected to telegraph by five at latest, and now it's six o'clock." The -doctor snuffed uneasily and wiped his eye-glasses. "I wish I had gone -down to Kildrummie. What's that, Carmichael, on the crest of the hill? -Your eyes are quicker than mine." - -"It's a man on horseback, and we'll soon know who he is, for he's riding -hard. I should recognize that horse. Why, it's Macfarlane's chestnut -that brings me up from the station in forty minutes and something to -spare, and Macfarlane's riding her himself. If the old chap hasn't -saddled a horse and ridden up to bring us the news post-haste! Isn't he -going! He would never come that speed if it were bad news. They've let -it out at the post office, as sure as we're standing here; and, look, -Macfarlane has seen us. He's waving his hat, doctor; the bill has -passed, and the Kirks are one." They went down the other side of the -bridge, and Carmichael did not look at Dr. Davidson, for the doctor's -stately step was broken, and he was again polishing his eyeglasses. -The chestnut was covered with dust, and so was Macfarlane, and the mare -herself seemed to be triumphant when Macfarlane reined her in on the -other side of the bridge. - -"Half expeckit to see you here, gentlemen," for even Macfarlane, dealer -in horses, in coals, in manure, and hirer of carriages, was discomposed. -"Message came in at 6.48; had the mare ready; left at 6.60; done the -three miles in thirteen and a half minutes"--all this in one breath; -then, jumping off his horse and taking off his hat, "A telegram for you, -Dr. Davidson." - -He patted the chestnut on the neck for her good going, and tried to look -as if he did not know what was in the envelope. Dr. Davidson handed the -envelope to Carmichael, who understood the reason, and, stripping it -off, handed him the message. - -"Quiet, lass, quiet!" said Macfarlane. Carmichael straightened himself, -and raised his hand to that weather-beaten soft hat of his, which was -the scandal of the Presbytery; the doctor unfolded the paper with a -shaking hand, a flush passed over his face, the tears--which already -were in his eyes--broke and rolled down his face, and he read out with -a trembling voice--"Bill carried by a majority of two hundred and -thirty-three. God bless the Kirk of Scotland, one again and for -ever!--Kilspindie." - -"Hip, hip, hurrah!" Carmichael was very young, but Macfarlane might -have known better, who was waving his cap with one hand and holding the -dancing mare with the other; while Hillocks was a spectacle of glory, -standing on the summit of the bridge and throwing in a hoarse shout. -Dr. Davidson took no part in the cheer, for he had turned aside and was -looking to the hill where the Parish Kirk peeped out from the trees, and -there were many thoughts in his mind. - -"Dr. Davidson," said Carmichael, still holding his hat in his hand, and -tuning his voice to affectionate respect, "you are minister this day -unto every man in the parish of Drumtochty, and you will add to all your -past kindnesses by letting me be your faithful assistant." - -The old man took Carmichael's hand in both his own, but for once he -could find no words. - -"Ye saw them gang oot, doctor, and ye'll see them come back," said -Hillocks, descending from the top of the bridge. - -"I honoured them when they went out," replied the doctor, finding speech -again, "and I love them coming back to their old Kirk." It was agreed -between Carmichael and the doctor that half an hour from that time the -bells of the two kirks should be rung, and though neither bell dominated -more than the distance of three fields, Dr. Davidson declared that the -Free Church bell was distinctly audible in the kirkyard; while a group -of Free Kirk men gathered round their door remarked to one another that -they had never noticed before how sweet was the sound of the Old Kirk -bell. And they were speaking true, for the bells were ringing in their -hearts. While Parliament had been deliberating on the bill, the two -Kirks had been making their arrangements in faith for the uniting of -congregations, and it had already been determined that Dr. Davidson and -Carmichael should be joint ministers of the parish of Drumtochty, and -that the congregations should worship in the Parish Kirk. When there -was a will in Drumtochty there was always a way, and arrangements -were quickly made that the parish should gather again on the following -Sabbath into the kirk where their fathers had worshipped, and round -which the dust of generations lay. At eleven o'clock the Free Church -congregation met for the last time as a separate flock, in the building -which they had erected with great sacrifice, and which was sanctified by -many sacred memories; and then, after Carmichael had conducted a short -service, and Donald Menzies, one of the elders, had offered up a prayer -of thanksgiving wherein he carried the congregation with him to -the Mercy Seat, and moved even the stiffest, they sang the second -Paraphrase, "O God of Bethel! by whose hand," and Carmichael pronounced -the benediction, with more than one pause between the words. Then they -went out through the door by which, more than a generation ago, the -congregation had entered, obeying their conscience, and testifying for -the freedom of Christ's Kirk. Without any marshalling or vain ceremony -they fell into a procession, and this was the order in which they went. -First came Carmichael in his gown and bands, his M.A. hood and college -cap, carrying in his hand his mother's Bible, and beside him Bumbrae, -Donald Menzies, Lauchlan Campbell, and the other elders, all dressed as -for the Sacrament. Behind them followed the choir, and then the people -as they pleased, family by family, parents and children together. Thrice -on the road they broke into singing, and these were the Psalms they -sang--the xcviii.-- - - "O sing a new song to the Lord, - For wonders He hath done: - His right hand and His holy arm - Him victory hath won"; - -and the lxxxiv.-- - - "How lovely is Thy dwelling-place, - O Lord of hosts, to me! - The tabernacles of Thy grace - How pleasant, Lord, they be!" - -and the cxxxiii.-- - - "Behold, how good a thing it is, - And how becoming well, - Together such as brethren are - In unity to dwell!" - -They began to sing this Psalm as they were ascending the height on which -the Parish Kirk stood, and when they reached the top of the hill the -sound of the Psalm was still in the air. Then Carmichael and the elders -beheld a heartening spectacle. Dr. Davidson and, his people had also -met for worship in their kirk, and, being told by a swift messenger that -their brethren were at hand, they had come out through the kirkyard and -ranged themselves in two rows along the roadside; while in the centre -of the high road, and in front of his people, stood the parish minister, -with his ruling elder, Drum-sheugh, by his side. The two ministers faced -one another, and the people stood perfectly still; the glorious sunshine -poured down upon their heads, and on either side the fields were golden -unto the harvest. Clear but tender was Dr. Davidson's voice. "Reverend -and dearly-beloved brother, I greet you, your elders, and your -congregation in the name of the Lord, and, as senior minister of this -parish, I bid you welcome to the Kirk of Drumtochty." - -And then Carmichael--"Reverend and honoured father in the Gospel of -our Lord Jesus Christ, my people and I thank God that there is now one -congregation in Drumtochty, and that you are our minister." - -Drumsheugh grasped Bumbrae's hand, but what passed between those two -worthy men no one heard, and then Dr. Davidson and Carmichael headed the -united procession, with the elders behind them; and as they moved down -the sideway between the hedges, the Old Kirk folk fell in with the Free -Kirk, so that they passed through the kirkyard one united company, and -as they went they sang the Psalm cxxii.-- - - "I joy'd when to the house of God, - Go up, they said to me. - Jerusalem, within thy gates - Our feet shall standing be." - -And by a happy coincidence they were singing the last words as the -ministers and elders went in through the door-- - - "Now, for my friends' and brethren's sakes, - Peace be in thee, I'll say. - And for the house of God our Lord, - I'll seek thy good alway." - -It had been arranged between them, who were indeed as father and son, -that Dr. Davidson should take the service and Carmichael should preach -the sermon, and when the people were all seated, neither Established nor -Free now, but all Scots Kirk men with one heart, one faith, one love, -Dr. Davidson gave out another of the glorious Psalms, whose ancient -traditions and wealth of spiritual emotion had served the people so well -that day. - -"Let us worship God this day, and sing unto the praise of His glorious -name Psalm cxxvi." - - "When Sion's bondage God turn'd back, - As men that dream'd were we." - -But he was not able to read further, and the congregation, who -understood, and whose own hearts were full, broke into the singing; and -at the noise thereof Carmichael awoke, for it was only a dream. - -"What might have been," he said to himself, with wistful regret, as he -descended the hill, and then his heart lifted, "and, please God, what is -going to be before my day is done." - - - - -XXII.--THE VISION OF THE SOUL - - -THERE were many modest homes in the Glen, but the humblest of them all -was that of Bell Robb, where she lived with Jean, her sister, and blind -Marjorie. It had only one room, and that had only one window. A tall man -could stand upright only in the centre, and the hearth was so near the -top of the chimney that it was a fight in the winter time between the -fire and the snow, and the snow used to win the battle before morning. -There was a box bed at the back of the room where Bell and Jean -slept, and the lowliest of little beds just below the window had been -Marjorie's home night and day for many a long year, because she had -not only been blind from her birth, but since middle age had also been -paralyzed. There was a table and two chairs, and a dresser on which -the humble stock of crockery was carefully displayed. From above the -fireplace the humblest of oil lamps, called a cruizie, projected, but -the cottage had two brass candlesticks which were never used, but were -polished like unto fine gold and were the glory of the home. - -If providence had been unkind to any person in the Glen it was to -Marjorie, for her birth had been a tragedy, and the helpless child, -blind and feeble, had been flung upon the world. She had never known -father or mother, she had never seen the primroses in the Tochty woods -when spring made her first visit, nor the purple of the heather in -autumn time, nor the golden com in the field before her door, nor the -sunshine upon the Burn down below. She had no kinsfolk to take charge of -her, she had no claim upon any one except the poor law authorities, and -had she been bom into a parish like Kilbogie the workhouse had been her -only asylum. But it was a kindly little world into which this poor waif -and stray had come--a world which had not many words nor much money, -whose ways were curious and whose manner was austere, but whose heart -was big and warm. Drumtochty had its laws of public policy which -Government itself was never able to over-ride, which every man and woman -in the Glen set themselves to enforce. And one was that no native of -the Glen should ever be sent to the coldness and bondage of a workhouse; -that however poor he might be and however long he lived, he must be kept -in the shelter of our pine woods where he could see the Tochty run. As -a matter of fact, this was not so great a burden on the neighbours, for -Drumtochty folk had a rooted objection, which not even the modern spirit -creeping up into the Glen could overcome, against being paupers or -depending on any person save on themselves and God. Drumtochty had no -pity for wastrels and very little sympathy with shiftless people, but -Marjorie, poor Marjorie, she had the spirit to work--we judged she had -about the highest spirit in the Glen--but what could she do without -sight and with her trembling hands? So the Glen adopted Marjorie, and -declared in wayside talk and many a kirkyard conference that she had -given them more than they had ever given to her. - -Bell Robb and Jean, her sister, earned their living by hoeing turnips, -lifting potatoes, binding at harvest and gathering the stones off -the field--which were ever coming up to the surface in our poor thin -soil--and they made between them on an average from January to December -nearly twelve shillings a week. They declared that being two solitary -women providence had intended they should have Marjorie, and now for -thirty years she had been with them, and they spent upon her twice as -much as they received in grants from the parish inspector, and declared -with brazen effrontery that they were making a little fortune out of -her. They also gave sixpence a month to the sustentation fund of the -Free Kirk, and a shilling at a great collection, and if there was any -little presentation in the Glen they had a shilling for that also. How -they did those things was only known to God. Their faces were lined by -labour and burned brown by the sun, but they looked well in the light of -the Sacrament, for they were partakers of the Lord's Cross; their hands -were rough and hard with field labour, but very gentle and kindly -when they waited upon Marjorie. And when Marjorie began to relate the -catalogue of her blessings, she always put next to her Saviour Bell and -her sister Jean. The two sisters have had their humble funeral years -ago, and their tired bodies with Marjorie's body of humiliation were -laid to rest in the old kirkyard, and theirs was then the reward of Him -who said, "I was a stranger and ye took me in." Drumsheugh, returning -from Muirtown market one afternoon by road, dropped in to pass the time -o' day with Marjorie--leaving half a pound of tea upon the dresser--and -was arrested by the humility of her bed. He was overheard saying "Sall" -to himself as he returned to the main road with the tone of a man who -had come to a resolution, and next Friday he drove up from Muirtown with -a small iron bedstead, arranged in parts over his dogcart, while he sat -with dignity upon the mattress. The installation of Marjorie into her -new couch was the event of her life, and for weeks the Glen dropped in, -partly to see Drumsheugh's amazing gift, but chiefly to hear Marjorie on -his unparalleled kindness and its unparalleled splendour. She had -felt it over inch by inch, and knew the pattern to a turn, but she -was chiefly concerned that her visitors should observe and rightly -appreciate the brass knobs at the four corners. - -"Drumsheugh micht have got an ordinary bed for half the money, but -naething wud sateesfy him but brass knobs. Ye may say that I canna -see them, but I can feel them, and I ken that they're there, and the -neighbours see them, and to think o't that I'm lying here like a queen -on a spring bed with four brass knobs. And me that has no claim on -Drumsheugh or ony other body, juist crowned wi' loving kindness. I'll -need to ask grace to be kept humble." - -According to Marjorie indeed her whole life had been arranged on the -principle of Drumsheugh's giving: instead of iron she had received -brass, yea, much fine gold, and all things had worked together for her -good. When her minister Carmichael forgot himself one day and pitied her -for her afflictions she was amazed, and had to remind herself that he -had only come to the Glen. For was it not her helplessness that had won -her so much love, so that from high Glen Urtarch down to the borders of -Kilbogie every man, woman and child was her friend, dropping in to see -her, bringing her all the news, and making her so many little presents -that she was "fair ashamed"? And she reminded John Carmichael that if -she, Marjorie, had been an able-bodied woman, he would not have paid her -so many visits, nor told her so many "bonny stories." - -"Mr. Carmichael, I'll have much to answer for, for I've been greatly -blessed. I judge masel' the maist priveeleged woman in Drumtochty." And -then Carmichael, who had his own troubles and discontentments, used to -go away a wiser and a better man. - -Marjorie saw the hand of an all,-wise and all-loving Providence in the -arrangements of her home. For one thing it faced south, and she got the -warmth and the shining of the sun through her little window, and there -was an advantage in the door opening straight from the garden into the -room, for the scent of the flowers came in to her bed, and she knew when -the wallflowers had begun to bloom and when the first rosebud above the -doorway had opened. She would have liked very well to have gone to the -Kirk with a goodly company, but lying alone on her bed through the hours -of service she had time for prayer, and I have heard her declare that -the time was too short for her petitions. "For, ye see, I have sae mony -friends to remember, and my plan is to begin at the top of the Glen and -tak' them family by family till I come to the end of the parish. And wud -ye believe it, I judge that it takes me four complete days to bring a' -the fowk I love before the Throne of Grace." - -As for her darkness of earthly sight, this, she insisted, was the chief -good which God had bestowed upon her, and she made out her case with the -ingenuity of a faithful and contented heart. - -"If I dinna see"--and she spoke as if this was a matter of doubt and she -were making a concession for argument's sake--"there's naebody in the -Glen can hear like me. There's no a footstep of a Drum-tochty man comes -to the door but I ken his name, and there's no a voice oot on the road -that I canna tell. The birds sing sweeter to me than to onybody else, -and I can hear them cheeping to one another in the bushes before they -go to sleep. And the flowers smell sweeter to me--the roses and the -carnations and the bonny moss rose--and I judge that the oatcake and -milk taste the richer because I dinna see them. Na, na, ye're no to -think that I've been ill treated by my God, for if He didna give me ae -thing, He gave me mony things instead. - -"And mind ye, it's no as if I'd seen once and lost my sight; that micht -ha' been a trial, and my faith micht have failed. I've lost naething; my -life has been all getting." - -And she said confidentially one day to her elder, Donald Menzies-- - -"There's a mercy waitin' for me that'll crown a' His goodness, and I'm -feared when I think o't, for I'm no worthy." - -"What iss that that you will be meaning, Marjorie," said the elder. - -"He has covered my face with His hand as a father plays with his bairn, -but some day sune He will lift His hand, and the first thing that -Marjorie sees in a' her life will be His ain face." - -And Donald Menzies declared to Bumbrae on the way home that he would -gladly go blind all the days of his life if he were as sure of that -sight when the day broke and the shadows fled away. - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of His Majesty Baby and Some Common People, by -Ian MacLaren - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIS MAJESTY BABY *** - -***** This file should be named 43727.txt or 43727.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/7/2/43727/ - -Produced by David Widger - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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-
-Project Gutenberg's His Majesty Baby and Some Common People, by Ian MacLaren
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
-
-
-Title: His Majesty Baby and Some Common People
-
-Author: Ian MacLaren
-
-Release Date: September 15, 2013 [EBook #43727]
-Last Updated: March 1, 2018
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIS MAJESTY BABY ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
-<div style="height: 8em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h1>
-HIS MAJESTY BABY <br /><br /> AND SOME COMMON PEOPLE
-</h1>
-<p>
-<br />
-</p>
-<h2>
-By Ian MacLaren
-</h2>
-<p>
-<br />
-</p>
-<h3>
-1902
-</h3>
-<p>
-<br /> <br />
-</p>
-<h4>
-To Andrew Carnegie, <br /> <br /> The Munificent Benefactor Of <br /> Scots
-Students
-</h4>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<p>
-<b>CONTENTS</b>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I.—HIS MAJESTY BABY </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II.—NEWS OF A FAMOUS VICTORY </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III.—A MODEST SCHOLAR </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV.—MY FRIEND THE TRAMP </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0005"> V.—OUR BOY </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0006"> VI.—A RESIDUARY </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VII.—A RACONTEUR </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VIII.—WITH UNLEAVENED BREAD </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0009"> IX.—OUR FOREIGN MANNERS </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0010"> X.—NILE VIEWS </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0011"> XI.—THE RESTLESS AMERICAN </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XII.—A SCOT INDEED </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XIII.—HIS CROWNING DAY </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIV.—“DINNA FORGET SPURGEON” </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XV.—THEIR FULL RIGHTS </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XVI.—AN EXPERT IN HERESY </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVII.—THE SCOT AT AN ARGUMENT </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVIII.—UPON THE LECTURE PLATFORM </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XIX.—FOR THE SAKE OF A HORSE </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XX.—NO RELEVANT OBJECTION </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XXI.—WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN </a>
-</p>
-<p class="toc">
-<a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XXII.—THE VISION OF THE SOUL </a>
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-I.—HIS MAJESTY BABY
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">U</span>NTIL the a'bus stopped and the old gentleman entered, we had been a
-contented and genial company, travelling from a suburb into the city in
-high, good fellowship, and our absolute monarch was Baby. His mother was
-evidently the wife of a well-doing artisan, a wise-looking, capable,
-bonnie young woman; and Baby was not a marvel of attire, nor could he be
-called beautiful. He was dressed after a careful, tidy, comfortable
-fashion, and he was a clear-skinned, healthy child; that is all you would
-have noticed had you met the two on the street. In a'bus where there is
-nothing to do for forty minutes except stare into one another's faces, a
-baby has the great chance of his life, and this baby was made to seize it.
-He was not hungry, and there were no pins about his clothes, and nobody
-had made him afraid, and he was by nature a human soul. So he took us in
-hand one by one, till he had reduced us all to a state of delighted
-subjection, to the pretended scandal and secret pride of his mother. His
-first conquest was easy, and might have been discounted, for against such
-an onset there was no power of resistance in the elderly woman opposite—one
-of the lower middles, fearfully stout, and of course a grandmother. He
-simply looked at her—if he smiled, that was thrown in—for,
-without her knowledge, her arms had begun to shape for his reception—so
-often had children lain on that ample resting-place. “Bless 'is little
-'eart; it do me good to see him.” No one cared to criticize the words, and
-we remarked to ourselves how the expression changes the countenance. Not
-heavy and red, far less dull, the proper adjective for the face is
-motherly. The next passenger, just above Grannie, is a lady, young and
-pretty, and a mother? Of course; did you not see her look Baby over, as an
-expert at her sharpest, before she grows old and is too easily satisfied?
-Will she approve, or is there something wrong which male persons and
-grandmothers cannot detect? The mother is conscious of inspection, and
-adjusts a ribbon His Majesty had tossed aside—one of his few
-decorations which he wore on parade for the good of the public and his own
-glory—and then she meekly awaited approval. For a moment we were
-anxious, but that was our foolishness, for in half a minute the lady's
-face relaxed, and she passed Baby. She leant forward and asked questions,
-and we overheard scraps of technical detail: “My first... fourteen
-months... six teeth... always well.” Baby was bored, and apologised to
-the'bus. “Mothers, you know—this is the way they go on; but what a
-lot they do for us! so we must be patient.” Although rank outsiders—excluded
-from the rites of the nursery—yet we made no complaint, but were
-rather pleased at this conference. One was a lady, the other a working
-woman; they had not met before, they were not likely to meet again, but
-they had forgotten strangeness and differences in the common bond of
-motherhood. Opposite me a priest was sitting and saying his office, but at
-this point his eye fell on the mothers, and I thought his lips shaped the
-words “Sancta Maria” before he went on with the appointed portion, but
-that may have been my fancy. The'bus will soon be dropping into poetry.
-Let us be serious and stare before us, as becometh well-bred English
-people.
-</p>
-<p>
-Baby has wearied of inaction, and has begun another campaign, and my heart
-sinks, for this time he courts defeat; On the other side of Grannie and
-within Baby's sphere of influence was a man about whose profession there
-could be little doubt, even if he had not a bag on his knee and were not
-reading from a parchment document. After a long and serious consideration
-of the lawyer's clear-cut, clean-shaven, bloodless face, Baby leant
-forward and tapped gently on the deed, and then, when the keen face looked
-up in quick inquiry, Baby replied with a smile of roguish intelligence, as
-if to say, “Full of big words as long as myself, but quite useless; it
-could all have been said in a sentence, as you and I know quite well; by
-the way, that parchment would make an excellent drum; do you mind me? A
-tune has just come into my head.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The lawyer, of course, drew away the deed, and frowned at the insolence of
-the thing? No, he did not—there is a soul in lawyers, if you know
-how to find it. He smiled. Well, it was not a first-rate smile, but I
-swear that it was genuine, and the next time he did it better, and
-afterwards it spread all over his face and lighted up his eyes. He had
-never been exposed in such a genial, irresistible way before, and so he
-held the drum, and Baby played a variation on “Rule Britannia” with much
-spirit, while grannie appealed for applause.
-</p>
-<p>
-“If 'e don't play as well as the band in 'yde Park of a Sunday.”
- </p>
-<p>
-After a well deserved rest of forty seconds, during which we wagged our
-heads in wonder, Baby turned his attention to his right-hand neighbour,
-and for the balance of the minute examined her with compassion. An old
-maid without question, with her disposition written on the thin, tightly
-drawn lips, and the hard, grey eyes. None of us would care to trifle
-with... Will he dare?... if he has not! That was his chief stroke of
-genius, and it deserved success—when, with an expression of
-unaffected pity, he put out his soft, dimpled hand and gently stroked her
-cheek. “Poor thing, all alone, 'lone, 'lone,” he cooed in her ear, as if to
-say with liquid baby speech, “I'm so solly, solly, solly, so velly, velly,
-velly solly.” Did I say that her eyes were tender and true enough to win a
-man's heart and keep it, and that her lips spoke of patience and
-gentleness? If I did not, I repair my neglect. She must have been a
-beautiful woman in her youth—no, no, to-day, just when she inclines
-her head ever so slightly, and Baby strokes her cheek again, and cooes,
-“Pretty, pretty, pretty, and so velly, velly, velly good.” Was not that a
-lovely flush on her cheek?—oh, the fool of a man who might have had
-that love. She opens a neat little bag, and as this was an imperial
-incident we watched without shame. Quite so; she is to be away all day,
-and has got a frugal luncheon, and—it's all she can do in return.
-Perhaps he cannot eat it. I don't know, nor does she; that's the pity of
-it, poor soul, baby-ways are a mystery to her; but would he refuse that
-biscuit? Not he; he makes an immense to do over it, and shows it to his
-mother and all his loyal subjects; and he was ready to be kissed, but she
-did not like to kiss him. Peace be with thy shy, modest soul, the
-Christ-child come into thine heart!
-</p>
-<p>
-Two passengers on Baby's left had endured these escapades with patient and
-suffering dignity. When a boy is profoundly conscious that he is—well,
-a man—and yet a blind and unfeeling world conspires to treat him as—well,
-a child—he must protect himself and assert his position. Which he
-does, to the delight of everybody with any sense of humour, by refusing
-indignantly to be kissed by his mother—or at least sisters—in
-public, by severely checking any natural tendency to enthusiasm about
-anything except sport, by allowing it to be understood that he has
-exhausted the last remaining pleasure and is fairly burnt out. Dear boy,
-and all the time ready to run a mile to see a cavalry regiment drill, and
-tormented by a secret hankering after the Zoological Gardens. These two
-had been nice little chaps two years ago, and would be manly fellows two
-years hence. Meanwhile they were provoking, and required chastisement or
-regeneration. Baby was to them a “kid,” to be treated with contempt, and
-when in a paroxysm of delight over the folly of a law paper he had tilted
-one of the young men's hats, that blase ancient replaced it in position
-with a bored and weary air. How Baby had taken in the situation I cannot
-guess, but he had his mind on the lads, and suddenly, while they were
-sustaining an elaborate unconcern, he flung himself back and crowed—yes,
-joyfully crowed—with rosy, jocund countenance in the whites of the
-eyes of the two solemnities. One raised his eyebrows, and the other looked
-at the roof in despair; but I had hopes, and who could resist this
-bubbling, chortling mirth? Next minute one chuckles joyfully, and the
-other tickles Baby just at the right spot below the chin—has a baby
-at home after all, and loves it—declaring aloud that he is “a jolly
-little beggar.” Those boys are all right; there is a sound heart below the
-little affectations, and they are going to be men.
-</p>
-<p>
-This outburst of His Majesty cheered us all mightily, and a young woman at
-the top of the'bus catching his eye, waved her hand to him, with a happy
-smile. Brown glove, size six and a quarter, perhaps six, much worn, and
-jacket also not of yesterday; but everything is well made, and in perfect
-taste. Milk-white teeth, hazel eyes. Grecian nose, what a winsome girl!—and
-let me see, she takes off a glove—yes, is wearing an engagement
-ring: a lucky fellow, for she must be good with those eyes and that merry
-smile. Daughter of a doctor or clergyman who died before he could provide
-for his family; a teacher, one guesses, and to-day off duty, going to meet
-her fiancé in the city; and then the three—her mother, that dear
-woman with hair turning grey—will go upon the river, and come home
-in the sweet summer evening, full of content. As soon as he gets a rise in
-the office they will marry, and she will also have her gift, as every
-woman should. But where am I now?—let that Baby bear the blame.
-</p>
-<p>
-We had one vacant place, and that was how the old gentleman intruded on
-our peace; but let me make every excuse for him. It is aggravating to
-stand on the edge of the pavement and wave your umbrella ostentatiously to
-a'bus which passes you and draws up fifteen yards ahead, to make your
-dangerous way along a slippery street with hansoms bent upon your life, to
-be ordered to “hurry up,” by an impatient conductor and ignominiously
-hauled on to a moving 'bus. For an elderly man of military appearance and
-short temper it was not soothing, and he might have been excused a word or
-two, but he distinctly exceeded.
-</p>
-<p>
-He insisted in language of great directness and simplicity that the
-conductor had seen him all the time; that if he didn't he ought to have
-been looking; that he—the Colonel—was not a fox-terrier to run
-after a'bus in the mud; that the conductor was an impertinent scoundrel,
-and that he would have him dismissed, with other things and words unworthy
-even of a retired Anglo-Indian. The sympathy of the'bus did not go out to
-him, and when he forced himself in between the lawyer and Grannie, and,
-leaning forward with his hands on his cane, glared at us impartially,
-relations were strained. A cut on his left cheek and a bristly white
-moustache, half hiding, half concealing a cruel mouth, did not commend the
-new passenger to a peaceable company. Baby regarded the old man with sad
-attention, pained at his unlicensed talk, but full of charity, and at last
-he indicates that his fancy is to examine the silver head of the Colonel's
-cane. The Colonel, after two moments' hesitation, removes his hands and
-gives full liberty. On second thoughts, he must have got that cut in some
-stiff fight; wonder whether he is a V.G. Baby moves the cane back and
-forwards to a march of his own devising—the Colonel actively
-assisting. Now that I see it in a proper light, his moustache is soft and
-sets off the face excellently. Had it not been the cut puckering the
-corner of the upper lip, that would have been a very sweet mouth for a
-man, or even for a woman. Baby is not lifted above all human weaknesses—preserve
-us from perfect people—and he indicates a desire to taste as well as
-handle the silver head. The Colonel is quite agreeable—the most
-good-natured man you could meet in a day's journey. But Baby's guardian
-objects, and history warns us of the dangers which beset a collision
-between an absolute monarch and his faithful Commons. We were all
-concerned, but the crisis is safe in the Colonel's hands. He thrusts his
-hand within the tightly-buttoned frock-coat and produces a gold
-hunting-watch—crested, did you notice, and... yes, just what every
-father has done for his baby since watches were invented—before that
-a fist served the purpose—he blew, the lid flew open. Baby blew, and
-the lid flew open faster and farther. Grannie would like to know whether
-any baby could have done the trick better, but there was no use asking us.
-“Reminds me of my boy at that age... Bailed on frontier last year.” Is
-much ashamed of this confidence, and we all look unconscious. What a fine,
-simple old fellow he is!
-</p>
-<p>
-“Saved up, has he”—the Colonel is speaking to the mother—“to
-give Baby and you a week at Ramsgate?... he's the right sort, your
-husband... it's for Baby, not for you, to get him some fol-de-rol, you
-know... he's done a lot of good to a crusty old chap.”... The conductor
-has taken in the scene with huge delight, and closes it just at the right
-point. “Your club, General; just wait till the'bus stops.... Can ye get
-near the kerb, Bill? Now, that's right, take care, sir, plenty of time...
-Oh, that was nothing, might'ave seen you sooner... thank ye, I do smoke at
-a time... Mornin', General; all right, Bill.” The Colonel was standing on
-the broad top step of the “Veteran's” smiling and waving his hand; the'bus
-waved back, and the conductor touched his cap. “A gentleman every inch;
-cads ain't mide that wy,” and Baby danced for sheer Christian joy, since
-there is no victory like Love.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-II.—NEWS OF A FAMOUS VICTORY
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>E had been talking that morning at the Office of the siege of Ladysmith,
-for six relatives of the family were at the front, three with Sir George
-White in the besieged place, and three with Sir Redvers Buller, fighting
-for their deliverance. Word had come to the house the night before that
-Ladysmith might be relieved any hour, and every one knew that unless help
-came speedily, the garrison would have to surrender. Duty took me to
-Cambridge that day, and I had gone upstairs to get ready, and coming down
-again I heard a shout in the hall as if something had happened, but it did
-not occur to me what it was. My hostess was speaking excitedly somewhere,
-and I could not catch what she was saying. Servants had rushed out from
-bedrooms and other places, and were standing on the breakfast-table in a
-house near the War landings. As I reached the hall the butler, a most
-stately personage, broke forth from his quarters and rushed past me
-carrying his coat on his arm, and then in his shirt sleeves, having
-forgotten to put on his coat, and without a hat—he will likely deny
-this, but he was a spectacle for gods and men—he ran, yes, he who
-was intended by nature to be an archbishop, ran across the square. Then I
-understood, and turned to a footman, who looked as if he would like to
-follow the butler.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Ladysmith,” was all I said.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Yes,” he cried; “word come, War Office, sent here, butler gone, make
-sure”; then he went out to the doorstep to catch the first sight of the
-returning butler. Meanwhile my hostess had come down to the hall, and
-there had gathered the household of all kinds and degrees—my host
-and the other guests had gone out—housemaids, ladies' maids,
-kitchen-maids, footmen, her majesty the cook, and every other person
-beneath the roof, high and low, and we were all trembling lest there had
-been some mistake in the message, and the news was not true. The butler
-came across St. James's Square, and when he saw us standing—forgetting
-himself again, but now he had his coat on—he waved triumphantly, and
-then we knew that Ladysmith was saved. We gave some sort of cheer and
-shook hands indiscriminately, each one with his neighbour, and with two or
-three neighbours, and talked together, mingling names of Generals and
-relatives, and places, and battles, while the butler, who had arrived and
-regained his breath, but not yet his unapproachable dignity, assured us
-that the siege was lifted, and that White, and what remained of his
-gallant men, were unconquered.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was time for me to start, and I told the hansom man to drive round by
-the War Office, that I might see this great thing. When we got down the
-Press were just leaving with the intelligence, and the first of the public
-were reading the news. Each man took the news in his own fashion, one
-laughing and slapping his legs, another crying and speaking to himself, a
-third rushing out to cheer, and I, why I, being an unemotional Scot,
-remembered that if I fooled away any more time, reading news of victories,
-I might lose my train, so I rushed back to the hansom.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Is't all correct?” the driver leant down from his perch, determined not
-to let himself go till he was perfectly certain that, not only the
-straight tip had been given, but that at last the event had come off.
-</p>
-<p>
-“All right,” I said; “Buller's army have driven back the Boers, and the
-advance guard has entered Ladysmith.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Whereupon he whipped off his hat, and standing up in his place, a stout,
-red-faced Englishman in sporting dress, he gave a cheer all on his own
-account, and then when I got in he opened the trap and shouted down, “Old
-Buller's done it; he had a bloomin' tough job, but he's a game sportsman,
-and I said he'd do it. And old Buller's done it.” Again he celebrated the
-event with a cheer, and we started for Charing Cross.
-</p>
-<p>
-Something occurred to me, and I pushed the trap open. “Look here,” I said,
-“the people near the War Office have heard the news, but after we pass
-Piccadilly Circus you'll be the first man to tell that the siege is
-raised.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Right, sir, I'm on the job. Old Buller's done it.” By the time we reached
-Bloomsbury he had the whole country to himself, and he did his duty
-manfully. As we crossed a thoroughfare, he would shout to the'bus drivers
-on either side, “Ladysmith relieved; just come from the War Office. Old
-Buller's done it.” Then in an instant, before we plunged into the opposite
-street, one could see the tidings run both ways, from 'bus to 'bus, from
-cab to cab, and the hats waving in the air, and hear, “Ladysmith and
-Buller.” Bloomsbury is a fearfully decorous and immovable district,
-inhabited by professors and British Museum students, and solid merchants,
-and professional men, but my driver for once stirred up Bloomsbury. A
-householder would be standing on his doorstep in tall hat and frock coat,
-well brushed, and with a daintily folded umbrella under his left arm,
-fastening the left button of the second glove, and looking out upon the
-world from the serene superiority of a single eyeglass. Then he would
-catch sight of us, and the sound of something my driver was flinging to
-the men on a furniture van.
-</p>
-<p>
-“What's that?” he would cry in a sharp, excited, insistent voice;
-“anything about Ladysmith?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Relieved,” from the hansom top. “War Office news. Old Buller's done it.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Down fell the umbrella on the step, and down came the eyeglass from the
-eye, and with an answering cheer the unstarched, enthusiastic, triumphant,
-transformed householder bolted into his home to make it known from attic
-to kitchen that White and his men had not fought in vain.
-</p>
-<p>
-Round the dustbin at the corner of a street half a dozen street boys were
-gathered, and the driver in his glory passed a word to them also. They did
-not know where they would get their dinner, and they had not had much
-breakfast, their whole stock of clothes would not have been worth 1s. 9d.,
-and not one of them had a cap, but they also were a bit of England, and
-this victory was theirs, and the last I saw of them they were standing
-each one upon his head and waving joyfully with his feet.
-</p>
-<p>
-“See, sir, how the kids took it,” for my driver was getting more
-magnificent every minute; “said all along old Buller would do it.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Coming down Euston Road was one blaze of glory, and when we swept into
-King's Cross Station at the gallop, and my driver saw the crowd of waiting
-porters and other hangers-on, an audience as yet unspoiled and waiting,
-ready for such news, it was, I take it, the greatest moment in his life.
-He pulled up the horse on his haunches, and again stood up on his high
-place.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Straight from the War Office, as hard as we could drive; it's all right
-at Ladysmith—the siege is lifted, and old Buller's done it”; and
-then, to crown the occasion, “Three cheers for General Buller.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He led from the top, and they joined from below, and so great was the
-excitement that when I offered the usual tip to the porter to carry my
-things to the carriage, he flatly refused to take it.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Hexcuse me, sir, not to-day; I ain't that sort. You brought the news of
-Ladysmith.” Which indeed was all my share of the glory of the passage: the
-rest belonged to my driver, who was indeed a Mercury fit for the work of
-the gods.
-</p>
-<p>
-Just as the train was starting a man arrived with a pile of newspapers to
-sell them on the downward journey, for the special editions with the
-relief of Ladysmith had been got out with vast celerity. It was a pretty
-sight when the train stopped at some country station to see the man jump
-out and hear him shout the news, while the people, a moment ago stolid and
-indifferent, crowded round him to buy the paper. And then the train went
-on its way, followed by a cheer, because Ladysmith was safe. At one
-station two respectable country women got into the compartment where I had
-been alone, and they had been so eager, as their kind is, to secure their
-places, that they had not caught the news before the train left the
-station. By-and-by they began talking together, and it appeared that the
-elderly woman had a son at the front, a reservist in an infantry regiment
-with General Buller, while the other was the wife of a reservist who was
-with the cavalry under General French. It was hard lines, one could not
-but feel, for those women to have a son and a husband taken away from
-their homes and peaceful employment, and sent out to hardship and danger.
-And it would not have been wonderful if they had complained of their lot.
-But no, my heart swelled with pride as in a corner of the carriage, and
-behind my newspaper, I heard the mother and the wife exchanging news from
-the seat of campaign, and talking cheerily of critical affairs. Till at
-last, and quite suddenly, trouble arose, and there might have been a hot
-quarrel in that compartment.
-</p>
-<p>
-“My man's all right,” said the wife; “he's with French, you know, and
-French looks after his men, 'e does. Jim says as 'ow 'is General won't let
-'is men into any traps.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Who are ye getting hat may I ask?” said the elderly lady, flushing purple
-with indignation—“talking about traps. If it's General Buller ye're
-meanin', hexcuse me telling you, 'e don't get 'is men into traps. My boy
-says that he 'ad the hardest job of them hall, 'ad General Buller, and
-George, 'e writes and says to me in 'is last letter, 'you just wait and
-see if General Buller don't do it'—them's 'is very words, 'you just
-wait and see if General Buller don't do it.'”
- </p>
-<p>
-The younger woman explained she had been making no reflections on General
-Buller, but only had been telling how proud her husband was of his
-Commander, but nothing would appease the old lady.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I know nothing about French, and I say nothing against French, but I wish
-you to understand that Buller is a good old sort, and, as sure as you're
-sitting there in this carriage, 'e'll do the job.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Then I laid down my newspaper, and addressed the reservist's mother.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Madam,” I said, “your son was right, and Buller is a good old sort; he's
-done the job, and Ladysmith is safe.”
- </p>
-<p>
-We all shook hands, two women wept, but not for sorrow, and a man looked
-out of the window, intent upon the scenery.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-III.—A MODEST SCHOLAR
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>EING a household of moderate attainments, and not being at all superior
-people, we were gravely concerned on learning that it was our duty to
-entertain the distinguished scholar, for our pride was chastened by
-anxiety and we had once received moderators. His name was carried far and
-wide on the wings of fame, and even learned people referred to him with a
-reverence in the tone, because it was supposed there was almost nothing
-within the range of languages and philosophy and theology which he did not
-know, and that if there happened to be any obscure department he had not
-yet overtaken, he would likely be on the way to its conquest. We
-speculated what like he would be—having only heard rumours—and
-whether he would be strangely clothed, we discussed what kind of company
-we could gather to meet such a man, and whether we ought, that is the two
-trembling heads of the household, to read up some subject beforehand that
-we might be able at least to know where he was if we could not follow him.
-And we were haunted with the remembrance of a literary woman who once
-condescended to live with us for two days, and whose conversation was so
-exhausting that we took it in turns like the watch on board ship, one
-standing on the bridge with the spin-drift of quotations flying over his
-head, and the other snatching a few minutes' sleep to strengthen her for
-the storm. That overwhelming lady was only the oracle of a circle after
-all, but our coming visitor was known to the ends of the earth.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was my place to receive him at the station, and pacing up and down the
-platform, I turned over in my mind appropriate subjects for conversation
-in the cab, and determined to lure the great man into a discussion of the
-work of an eminent Oxford philosopher which had just been published, and
-which I knew something about. I had just arranged a question which I
-intended to submit for his consideration, when the express came in, and I
-hastened down the first-class carriages to identify the great man. High
-and mighty people, clothed in purple and fine linen, or what corresponds
-to such garments in our country, were descending in troops with servants
-and porters waiting upon them, but there was no person that suggested a
-scholar. Had he, in the multitude of his thoughts, forgotten his
-engagement altogether, or had he left the train at some stopping-place and
-allowed it to go without him—anything is possible with such a
-learned man.
-</p>
-<p>
-Then I saw a tall and venerable figure descend from a third-class
-compartment and a whole company of genuine “third classers” handing out
-his luggage while he took the most affectionate farewell of them. A
-working man got out to deposit the scholar's Gladstone bag upon the
-platform while his wife passed out his umbrella, and another working man
-handled delicately a parcel of books. The scholar shook hands with every
-one of his fellow-passengers including children, and then I presented
-myself, and looked him in the face. He was rather over six feet in height,
-and erect as a sapling, dressed in old-fashioned and well brushed black
-clothes, and his face placed me immediately at ease, for though it was
-massive and grave, with deep lines and crowned with thick white hair, his
-eyes were so friendly and sincere, had such an expression of modesty and
-affection, that even then, and on the first experience, I forgot the gulf
-between us. Next instant, and almost before I had mentioned my name he
-seized me by the hand, and thanked me for my coming.
-</p>
-<p>
-“This, my good sir,” he said with his old-fashioned courtesy, “is a
-kindness which I never for an instant anticipated, and when I remember
-your many important engagements (important!) and the sacrifice which this
-gracious act (gracious!) must have entailed upon you, I feel this to be an
-honour, sir, for which you will accept this expression of gratitude.” It
-seemed as if there must have been something wrong in our imagination of a
-great man's manner, and when he insisted, beyond my preventing, in
-carrying his bag himself, and would only allow me with many remonstrances
-to relieve him of the books; when I had difficulty in persuading him to
-enter a cab because he was anxious to walk to our house, our fancy
-portrait had almost disappeared. Before leaving the platform he had
-interviewed the guard and thanked him by both word and deed for certain
-“gracious and mindful attentions in the course of the journey.”
- </p>
-<p>
-My wife acknowledged that she had been waiting to give the great man
-afternoon tea in fear and trembling, but there was something about him so
-winsome that she did not need even to study my face, but felt at once that
-however trying writing-women and dilletante critics might be, one could be
-at home with a chief scholar. When I described the guests who were coming—to
-meet him at dinner—such eminent persons as I could gather—he
-was overcome by the trouble we had taken, but also alarmed lest he should
-be hardly fit for their company, being, as he explained himself, a man
-much restricted in knowledge through the just burden of professional
-studies. And before he went to his room to dress he had struck up an
-acquaintance with the youngest member of the family, who seemed to have
-forgotten that our guest was a very great man, and had visited a family of
-Japanese mice with evident satisfaction. During dinner he was so conscious
-of his poverty of attainment in the presence of so many distinguished
-people that he would say very little, but listened greedily to everything
-that fell from the lips of a young Oxford man who had taken a fair degree
-and was omniscient. After dinner we wiled him into a field where very few
-men have gone, and where he was supposed to know everything that could be
-known, and then being once started he spoke for forty minutes to our huge
-delight with such fulness and accuracy of knowledge, with such lucidity
-and purity of speech—allowing for the old-fashioned style—that
-even the Oxford man was silent and admired.
-</p>
-<p>
-Once and again he stopped to qualify his statement of some other scholar's
-position lest he should have done him injustice, and in the end he became
-suddenly conscious of the time he had spoken and implored every one's
-pardon, seeing, as he explained “that the gentlemen present will likely
-have far more intimate knowledge of this subject than I can ever hope to
-attain.” He then asked whether any person present had ever seen a family
-of Japanese mice, and especially whether they had ever seen them waltzing,
-or as he described it “performing their circular motions of the most
-graceful and intricate nature, with almost incredible continuance.” And
-when no one had, he insisted on the company going to visit the menagerie,
-which was conduct not unbecoming a gentleman, but very unbecoming a
-scholar.
-</p>
-<p>
-Next morning, as he was a clergyman, I asked him to take family worship,
-and in the course of the prayer he made most tender supplication for the
-sick relative of “one who serves in this household,” and we learned that
-he had been conversing with the housemaid who attended to his room, having
-traced some expression of sorrow on her face, and found out that her
-mother was ill; while we, the heads of the household, had known nothing
-about the matter, and while we imagined that a scholar would be only
-distantly aware that a housemaid had a mother. It was plainer than ever
-that we knew nothing whatever about great scholars. The public function
-for which he came was an overwhelming success, and after the lapse of now
-many years people still remember that man of amazing erudition and
-grandeur of speech. But we, being simple people, and especially a certain
-lad, who is rapidly coming now to manhood, remember with keen delight how
-this absurd scholar had hardly finished afternoon tea before he demanded
-to see the mice, who were good enough to turn out of their nest, a mother
-and four children, and having rotated, the mother by herself, and the
-children by themselves, and each one having rotated by itself, all whirled
-round together in one delirium of delight, partly the delight of the mice
-and partly of the scholar.
-</p>
-<p>
-Having moved us all to the tears of the heart by his prayer next morning,
-for it was as the supplication of a little child, so simple, so confiding,
-so reverent and affectionate, he bade the whole household farewell, from
-the oldest to the youngest with a suitable word for each, and he shook
-hands with the servants, making special inquiry for the housemaid's
-mother, and—there is no use concealing a scholar's disgrace any more
-than another man's—he made his last call upon the Japanese mice, and
-departed bowing at the door, and bowing at the gate of the garden, and
-bowing before he entered the cab, and bowing his last farewell from the
-window, while he loaded us all with expressions of gratitude for our
-“gracious and unbounded hospitality, which had refreshed him alike both in
-body and mind.” And he declared that he would have both that hospitality
-and ourselves in “continual remembrance.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Before we retired to rest I had approached the question of his expenses,
-although I had an instinct that our scholar would be difficult to handle,
-and he had waived the whole matter as unworthy of attention. On the way to
-the station I insisted upon a settlement with the result that he refused
-to charge any fee, being thankful if his “remarks,” for he refused to give
-them the name of lecture, had been of any use for the furtherance of
-knowledge, and as regards expenses they were limited to a third-class
-return fare. He also explained that there were no other charges, as he
-travelled in cars and not in cabs, and any gifts he bestowed (by which I
-understood the most generous tips to every human being that served him in
-any fashion) were simply a private pleasure of his own. When I established
-him in the corner seat of a third-class compartment, with his humble
-luggage above his head, and an Arabic book in his hand, and some slight
-luncheon for the way in his pocket, he declared that he was going to
-travel as a prince. Before the train left an old lady opposite him in the
-carriage—I should say a tradesman's widow—was already
-explaining the reason of her journey, and he was listening with benignant
-interest. Three days later he returned the fee which was sent him, having
-deducted the third-class return fare, thanking us for our undeserved
-generosity, but explaining that he would count it a shame to grow rich
-through his services to knowledge. Some years afterwards I saw him in the
-distance, at a great public meeting, and when he mounted the platform the
-huge audience burst into prolonged applause, and were all the more
-delighted when he, who never had the remotest idea that people were
-honouring him, looked round, and discovering a pompous nonentity who
-followed him, clapped enthusiastically. And the only other time and the
-last that I saw him was on the street of a famous city, when he caught
-sight of a country woman dazed amid the people and the traffic, and afraid
-to cross to the other side. Whereupon our scholar gave the old woman his
-arm and led her carefully over, then he bowed to her, and shook hands with
-her, and I watched his tall form and white hair till he was lost in the
-distance. I never saw him again, for shortly after he had also passed over
-to the other side.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-IV.—MY FRIEND THE TRAMP
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>NE of the memorable and pitiable sights of the West, as the traveller
-journeys across the prairies, is the little group of Indians hanging round
-the lonely railway station. They are not dangerous now, nor are they
-dignified; they are harmless, poor, abject, shiftless, ready to beg or
-ready to steal, or to do anything else except work, and the one possession
-of the past which they still retain is the inventive and instinctive
-cunning of the savage, who can read the faintest sign like a written
-language, and knows the surest way of capturing his prey. One never
-forgets the squalid figure with some remains of former grandeur in his
-dress, and the gulf between us and this being of another race, unchanged
-amid the modern civilization. And then one comes home and suddenly
-recognizes our savages at our own doors.
-</p>
-<p>
-Our savage tramps along our country roads, and loafs along our busy
-streets, he stops us with his whine when no policeman is near, and
-presents himself upon our doorstep, and when he is a master of his
-business he will make his way into our house. He has his own dress,
-combining many styles and various periods, though reduced to a harmony by
-his vagabond personality. He has his own language, which is unintelligible
-to strangers, and a complete system of communication by pictures. He
-marries and lives and dies outside civilization, sharing neither our
-habits nor our ideas, nor our labours, nor our religion, and the one
-infallible and universal badge of his tribe is that our savage will not
-work. He will hunger and thirst, he will sweat and suffer, he will go
-without shelter and without comfort, he will starve and die, but one thing
-he will not do, not even to get bread, and that is work; not even for
-tobacco, his dearest treasure and kindliest support, will he do fifteen
-minutes' honest labour. The first and last article in his creed, for which
-he is prepared to be a martyr and which makes him part of a community, is
-“I believe in idleness.” He has in him the blood of generations of nomads,
-and if taken off the roads, and compelled to earn his living would likely
-die. A general law of compulsory industry would bring the race to an end.
-</p>
-<p>
-Besides his idleness he has many faults, for he is a liar to the bone, he
-is a drunkard whenever he can get the chance, he steals in small ways when
-it is safe, he bullies women if they are alone in a country house, he has
-not a speaking acquaintance with soap and water, and if he has any virtue
-it is not of a domestic character. He is ungrateful, treacherous,
-uncleanly, and vicious, to whom it is really wrong to give food, far more
-money, and to whom it is barely safe to give the shelter of an outhouse,
-far less one's roof. And yet he is an adroit, shrewd, clever, entertaining
-rascal. He carries the geography of counties in his head down to the
-minutest details which you can find on no map, knowing every mountain
-track, and forgotten footpath, every spring where he can get water, and
-the warmest corner in a wood where he can sleep. He has also another map
-in his memory of the houses with the people that dwell therein; which he
-ought to pass by, which it were a sin to neglect, which are worth trying,
-and which have changed hands. And he is ever carrying on his ordnance
-survey, and bringing information up to date; and as he and his fellows
-make a note of their experiences for those who follow after, it may be
-safely said that no one knows better either a country-side or its
-inhabitants from his own point of view than our friend the vagrant.
-</p>
-<p>
-Perhaps the struggle for existence has quickened his wits beyond those of
-his race, but at any rate our vagabond is not fettered by that solid and
-conventional English intellect which persists in doing things as our
-fathers used to do them, and will not accommodate itself to changing
-conditions. Our vagabond has certain old lines which he has long practised
-and which he is always willing to use, in suitable circumstances, such as
-the workman out of employment and tramping to another city to get a job
-because he has not money enough to pay his railway fare, or a convalescent
-just discharged from hospital and making his way home to his wife and
-children, or a high-spirited man too proud to beg, and only anxious for a
-day's work (in some employment which cannot be found within twenty miles).
-And when he plays any of these rôles he is able to assume an air of
-interesting weariness as if he could not drag one leg after the other, and
-on occasion will cough with such skill as to suggest galloping
-consumption. And poor (but proud) he only allows the truth to be dragged
-from him after much hesitation. But when those lines fail and new
-inventions are needed for new times he rises to the occasion. If there be
-a great miner's strike he goes from town to town begging money for his
-wife and children at home, and explaining the hardships of a miner's life,
-which he has diligently, although superficially, learned; and after a war
-he is a reservist who threw up a profitable job at his country's call, and
-is now penniless and starving, but still unwaveringly patriotic; and if
-there be any interest in the sea through recent storm and shipwrecks, he
-also, this man of many trials and many journeys, has been saved with
-difficulty from the waves and lost his little all. If he calls upon a
-priest, he is careful to call him “Father,” and to pose as a faithful
-Catholic; and if he be an Irishman, his brogue then becomes a fortune, but
-if he drops in upon a Minister of the Kirk he recalls the good which he
-got when sitting in the West Kirk of Paisley; and if he be so fortunate as
-to be really Scots in blood, and therefore acquainted with theology, he
-will not only deceive that minister, but even the elect themselves, I mean
-the Caledonian Society. When the vagabond comes upon a home of simple lay
-piety, he allows it to be understood that he has led a life of fearful
-wickedness but is now a genuine penitent, asking only for the means of
-gaining an honest livelihood. He is fertile in devices and brilliant in
-execution, without any prejudices against the past or present, but ever
-bringing forth from his treasury of unabashed falsehood and ingenious
-impudence things new and old.
-</p>
-<p>
-Our savage has also got, what I believe the Red Indians have not, an
-agreeable sense of humour, which no doubt is limited by practical details,
-but is in its way very captivating. What a stroke of delightful irony it
-was for a pair of our savages to take a long street between them, the man
-begging down the right-hand side, and the woman the left, while the man
-told a mournful tale of his wife's death, and asked money to get her a
-coffin that she might be respectably buried—he being poor (but
-proud) and a broken-hearted widower—as well as to clothe their two
-mourning little ones in black for the funerals, and for the woman to tell
-exactly the same story as she went down the opposite side of the street,
-except that it was her husband she was burying, and she poor (but proud)
-and a broken-hearted widow. They took no notice of one another across the
-street, and none when they completed their work at the further end, but a
-few minutes later they were sitting in the same public-house together,
-both wonderfully comforted and affording a remarkable illustration of the
-dead burying their dead.
-</p>
-<p>
-Our vagabond is a superb actor within his own province, and greatly enjoys
-a triumph in any conflict with the enemy. He was one day singing the
-“Sweet By-and-By” with such a voice and so much unctuous emotion that I
-lost patience, and broke out on him for his laziness and profanity. For a
-moment he was almost confounded, and then he assumed an air of meek
-martyrdom suggestive of a good man who had been trying to do his little
-best for the salvation of his fellow-creatures, and was being persecuted
-for righteousness sake. This was for the benefit of a simple-minded old
-gentleman who had been greatly shocked at my remarks, and now, as a rebuke
-to an ungodly and unsympathetic clergyman and an encouragement to humble
-piety, gave the vagabond a shilling. “God bless you,” he said with much
-feeling to the philanthropist, and started again the “Sweet By-and-By”!
-but before we parted he tipped me a wink over his victory, charged with
-inexpressible humour.
-</p>
-<p>
-When one of the savages honoured our humble home by calling one day as an
-incapacitated member of the Mercantile Marine and obtained half-a-crown
-from my tender-hearted wife, partly through sympathy, but also through
-alarm, because the suffering sailor proposed to exhibit the sores upon his
-legs, I knew that the tidings would be carried far and wide throughout the
-nearest tribe, our local Black-feet as it were, and that we would be much
-favoured in days to come. So we were, by other sailors, also with sores,
-by persons who had been greatly helped by my preaching in the years of
-long ago, by widow women full of sorrow and gin, by countrymen stranded
-helpless in a big unsympathetic city, till our house was little better
-than a casual ward. Then I took the matter in hand and interviewed the
-next caller, who had been long out of employment, but had now obtained a
-job and only wanted the means of living till Monday when he would be
-independent of everybody. He had spent his last penny the day before on a
-piece of bread, and had tasted nothing since. “Not even drink,” I ventured
-to inquire, for by this time the air round me was charged with alcohol,
-when he replied with severe dignity that he had been a teetotaller since
-his boyhood. Then I addressed him briefly but clearly, explaining that the
-half-crown had been given by mistake, that we were greatly obliged for the
-visit of his friends, that I had enjoyed his own call, but that it would
-save a great deal of trouble to both sides if he would only intimate to
-his fellow-tribesmen and women when they gathered round the camp fire in
-the evening that there was no more spoil to be obtained at our house. He
-looked at me, and I looked at him, and a smile came over his face. “I'm
-fly,” he said. And then as he went out at the door he turned for a last
-shot, “Look here, sir, if you give me a bob, I'll join your church, and be
-an elder in a month.” A fellow of infinite jest, and I gave him a
-shilling, but without conditions.
-</p>
-<p>
-The humour of our nomad is always practical, and when it masters him it
-sweeps all professional hypocrisy before it like a water-flood, and
-reveals the real man. Certainly quite unclothed, but also quite unashamed.
-He had told his story so artfully, with such care in detail and such
-conviction in tone, that I did believe for the moment that he was a poor
-Scot trying to get home by sea to Glasgow, together with his wife and four
-children, that he had obtained his passage-money from the Caledonian
-Society, and that he only needed a little money for food and such like
-expenses. This money I gave him somewhat lavishly, and yet not quite
-without suspicion, and he left full of gratitude and national enthusiasm.
-Three years later a man got entrance to my study on the grounds of
-Christianity and nationality, and before he addressed me directly I
-thought that I knew his voice. When he explained that he had got his
-passage to Glasgow from that noble institution, the Caledonian Society,
-but that as he had a wife and four children... I was sure we had met
-before, and I offered to do the rest of the story myself, which I did with
-such an accurate memory that he listened with keen appreciation like a composer
-to the playing of his own piece, and only added when I had finished, “So I
-did it here afore. Well, sir, ye may take my word for it, it's the first
-mistake I've made in my business.” And he departed with the self-conceit
-of the Scots only slightly chastened.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-V.—OUR BOY
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE boy must have had a father, and some day he may be a father himself,
-but in the meantime he is absolutely different from anything else on the
-face of the earth. He is a race by himself, a special creation that cannot
-be traced, for who would venture to liken his ways to the respectability
-of his father, or who would ever connect him with the grave and decorous
-man which he is to be. By-and-by, say in thirty years, he will preside at
-a meeting for the prevention of cruelty to animals, or make enthusiastic
-speeches for the conversion of black people, or get in a white heat about
-the danger of explosives in the house, or be exceedingly careful about the
-rate of driving. Meanwhile he watches two dogs settle their political
-differences with keen interest, and would consider it unsportsmanlike to
-interfere if they were fairly matched, and the sight of a black man is to
-him a subject of unfailing and practical amusement, if he can blow himself
-and a brother up with gunpowder, he feels that time has not been lost, and
-it is to him a chief delight—although stolen—to travel round
-at early morn with the milkman, and being foolishly allowed to drive, to
-take every corner on one wheel. He is skilful in arranging a waterfall
-which comes into operation by the opening of a door; he keeps a menagerie
-of pets, unsightly in appearance, and extremely offensive in smell in his
-bedroom. He has an inexhaustible repertory of tricks for any servant with
-whom he has quarrelled, and it is his pleasure to come downstairs on the
-bannisters, and if any one is looking to make believe that he is going to
-fall off and dash himself to destruction three floors below. His father is
-aghast at him, and uses the strongest language regarding his escapades; he
-wonders how it came to pass that such a boy should turn up in his home,
-and considers him what gardeners would call “a sport” or unaccountable
-eccentricity in the family. He is sure that he never did such things when
-he was a boy, and would be very indignant if you insinuated he had simply
-been a prophecy of his son. According to his conversation you would
-imagine that his early life had been distinguished by unbroken and
-spotless propriety, and his son himself would not believe for a moment
-that the pater had ever been guilty of his own exploits. The Boy is
-therefore lonely in his home, cut off from the past and the future; he is
-apt to be misunderstood and even (in an extreme case) censured, and his
-sufferings as a creature of a foreign race with all the powers of
-government against him would be intolerable had he not such a joy in
-living, and were he not sustained in everything he does by a quite
-unaffected sense of innocence, and the proud consciousness of honourable
-martyrdom.
-</p>
-<p>
-As wild animals are best studied in their native states, and are much
-restricted in the captivity of a cage, so the Boy is not seen at his best
-in a middle-class home where he is sadly fettered by vain customs
-(although it is wonderful how even there he can realize himself). When you
-want to understand what manner of creature he is, you must see him on the
-street. And the boy <i>in exedsis</i>, and <i>de profundis</i> too, is a
-message-boy.
-</p>
-<p>
-Concluding that his son has had enough of the Board School, and learning
-from his master that there was not the remotest chance he would ever reach
-a higher standard, his father brings him some morning to a respectable
-tradesman, and persuades the unsuspecting man to take him as message-boy.
-Nothing could exceed the modesty and demure appearance of the Boy, and the
-only fear is that he be too timid and too simple for his duty—that
-he may be run over by a cab or bullied upon the streets. Carefully washed
-by his mother, and with his hair nicely brushed, in a plain but untorn
-suit of clothes, and a cap set decently on his head, he is a beautiful
-sight, and he listens to his father's instructions to do what he is told,
-and his master's commandment that he is not to meddle with anything in the
-shop, in respectful and engaging silence. His father departs with a
-warning look, and his master gives him an easy errand, and the Boy goes
-out to begin life in a hard, unfriendly world, while one pities his tender
-youth.
-</p>
-<p>
-The Boy has started with a considerable capital of knowledge, gathered at
-school, and in a few weeks he is free of the streets—a full-grown
-citizen in his own kingdom, and, if you please, we will watch him for an
-hour. His master has given him some fish, and charged him as he values his
-life to deliver them at once at No. 29, Rose Terrace, and the boy departs
-with conscientious purpose. Half way to his destination he sees in the far
-distance the butcher's boy, who also has been sent in hot haste to some
-house where the cook is demanding the raw material for luncheon. They
-signal to one another with clear, penetrating, unintelligible cries like
-savages across a desert, and the result is that the two messengers
-rendezvous at the corner of Rose Terrace. What they talk about no person
-can tell, for their speech is their own, but by-and-by under the influence
-of, no doubt informing, conversation, they relax from there austere
-labours and lay down their baskets. A minute later they are playing
-marbles with undivided minds, and might be playing pitch and toss were
-they not afraid of a policeman coming round the corner. It is nothing to
-them, gay, irresponsible children of nature, that two cooks are making two
-kitchens unbearable with their indignation, for the boy has learned to
-receive complaints with imperturbable gravity and ingenious falsehood.
-Life for him is a succession of pleasures, slightly chastened by work and
-foolish impatience. As they play, a dog who has been watching them from
-afar with keen interest, and thoroughly understands their ways, creeps
-near with cautious cunning, and seizing the chance of a moment when the
-butcher's boy has won a “streaky” from the fishmonger, dashes in and
-seizes the leg of mutton. If he had been less ambitious and taken a chop,
-he would have succeeded, and then the boy would have explained that the
-chop had been lost in a street accident in which he was almost killed, but
-a leg of mutton is heavy to lift and a boy is only less alert than a dog.
-The spoil is barely over the edge of the basket, and the dog has not yet
-tasted its sweetness, before the boy gives a yell so shrill and fearsome
-that it raises the very hair on the dog's back, and the thief bolts in
-terror without his prey. The boy picks up the mutton, dusts it on his
-trousers, puts it back in the basket, gives the fishmonger a playful punch
-on the side of the head, to which that worthy responds with an attempted
-kick, and the two friends depart in opposite directions, whistling, with a
-light heart and an undisturbed conscience.
-</p>
-<p>
-If any one imagines that the boy will now hurry with his fish, he does not
-understand the nature of the race and its freedom from enslaving rule. A
-few yards down Rose Terrace he comes upon the grocer's boy and the two
-unearth a chemist's boy, and our boy produces a penny dreadful, much tom
-and very fishy, but which contains the picture of a battle swimming in
-blood, and the three sit down for its enjoyment. When they have fairly
-exhausted their literature the boy receives his fee, as the keeper of a
-circulating library, by being allowed to dip his finger carefully wetted
-before into a bag of moist sugar, and to keep all that he can take out,
-and the grocer's boy is able to close up the bag so skilfully that the
-cook will never know that it has been opened. From the chemist he receives
-a still more enjoyable because much more perilous reward, for he is
-allowed to put his mouth to the spout of a syphon and, if he can endure,
-to take what comes—and that is the reason why syphons are never
-perfectly full. It occurs to the chemist at this moment that he was told
-to lose no time in delivering some medicines, and so he departs
-reluctantly; the conference breaks up, and it seems as if nothing remained
-for the boy but to deliver the fish. Still you never know what may happen,
-and as at that moment he catches sight of a motor-car, it seems a mere
-duty to hurry back to the top of the terrace to see whether it will break
-down. It does of course, for otherwise one could hardly believe it to be a
-motor-car, and the boy under what he would consider a call of providence,
-hastens to offer assistance. Other boys arrive from different quarters,
-interested, sympathetic, obliging, willing to co-operate with the
-irritated motor-man in every possible way. They remain with him
-twenty-five minutes till he starts again, and then three of them accompany
-him on a back seat, not because they were invited, but because they feel
-they are needed. And then the boy goes back to Rose Terrace and delivers
-the fish, stating with calm dignity, that he had just been sent from the
-shop and had run all the way.
-</p>
-<p>
-Things are said to him at the house by the cook, who is not an absolute
-fool, and things may be said to him by his master at the shop, who has
-some knowledge of boys, but no injurious reflection of any kind affects
-the boy. With a mind at leisure from itself he is able to send his empty
-basket spinning along the street after a lady's poodle, and to accompany
-this attention with a yell that will keep the pampered pet on the run for
-a couple of streets to the fierce indignation of its mistress. And the
-chances are that he will foregather with an Italian monkey boy, and
-although the one knows no Italian and the other knows no English, they
-will have pleasant fellowship together, because both are boys, and in
-return for being allowed to have the monkey on his shoulder, and seeing it
-run up a waterpipe, he will give the Italian half an apple which comes out
-of his pocket with two marbles and a knife attached to it. If he be
-overtaken by a drenching shower, he covers his head and shoulders with his
-empty basket, sticks his hands in his pockets, and goes on his way singing
-in the highest of spirits, but if the day be warm he travels on the steps
-of a'bus when the conductor is on the roof, or on a lorry, if the driver
-be not surly. If it be winter time, and there be ice on the streets, he
-does his best, with the assistance of his friends, to make a slide, and if
-the police interfere, with whom he is on terms of honourable warfare, he
-contents himself with snowballing some prudish-looking youth, who is out
-for a walk with his mother. All the same he is not without his ambitions
-in the world, and he carries sacred ideals in the secret of his heart. He
-would give all that he possesses,—five lurid and very tattered
-books, a penknife with four blades (two broken), nineteen marbles (three
-glass), and a pair of white mice—to be the driver of a butcher's
-cart. The boy is a savage, and although you may cover him with a thin
-veneer of civilization he remains a savage. There is a high-class school
-for little boys in my district, and those at a distance are driven home in
-cabs that they may not get wet in winter weather and may not be
-over-fatigued. A cab is passing at this moment with four boys, who have
-invited two friends to join them, and it is raining heavily. Two boys are
-on the box seat with the driver, and have thoughtfully left their topcoats
-inside in case they might get spoiled. There is a boy with his head out at
-either window addressing opprobrious remarks to those on the box-seat, for
-which insults one of them has just lost his cap, the other two are
-fighting furiously in the bottom of the cab, and will come out an abject
-spectacle. For you may train a dog to walk on its hind legs, and you may
-tame a tiger, but you cannot take the boyness out of a boy.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-VI.—A RESIDUARY
-</h2>
-<h3>
-I
-</h3>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>XCEPTIONS may be allowed in theory, at least, but the rule stands
-impregnable in reason and practice, that a wife should have the absolute
-control of the household, and that no male person should meddle, even as
-an irresponsible critic, with the servant department. There are limits to
-the subjection of the gentler sex which reserves the right to choose its
-acts of homage to the titular head of the family. Can anything be
-prettier, for instance, than the deference which women of very pronounced
-character will show to their husbands in some affairs? “Nothing would have
-given me greater pleasure than to have taken a stall at your charming
-bazaar, but my husband absolutely forbids me, and you know what a tyrant
-he is about my health,” or “You really must not ask my opinion about the
-Eastern Question, for I am shockingly ignorant of politics, but my husband
-knows everything, and I have heard him say that the Government has been
-very weak.” It would not, however, be wise for this favoured man to
-trespass too far on the almost Oriental deference of his wife, or hastily
-to suppose that because his word was useful in saving her from the
-drudgery of an unfashionable bazaar or the weary drone of a conversational
-bore, his was a universal infallibility. This sweet spirit of passive
-obedience will not continue if a rash man should differ from the house
-manager on the technical merits of a servant, for he will then be told
-that his views on all such matters are less than nothing and vanity.
-</p>
-<p>
-No man knows, nor ever expects to know, what women talk about after they
-have left the dining-room in stately procession and secluded themselves in
-the parliament of the drawing-room; but it may be guessed that the
-conference, among other things, reviews the incredible folly of mankind in
-the sphere of household affairs. How it will not give the head of the
-family one minute's serious concern that the cook feeds her kinsfolk with
-tit-bits in the kitchen, provided that his toast be crisp and his
-favourite dish well cooked. How he would any day give a certificate of
-character to the housemaid, if he were allowed to perpetrate such an
-absurdity, simply and solely on the ground that his bath was ready every
-morning, and his shaving-water hot, while he did not know, nor seem to
-care, that the dust was lying thick in hidden corners. How he would excuse
-the waitress having a miscellaneous circle of admirers, provided she did
-not loiter at the table and was ingenious in saving him from unwelcome
-callers. They compare notes on the trials of household government; they
-comfort one another with sympathy; they revel in tales of male innocence
-and helplessness, till they are amazed that men should be capable of even
-such light duties as fall on them in their daily callings, and are
-prepared to receive them kindly as they enter the room with much
-diffidence and make an appeal by their very simplicity to a woman's
-protecting care.
-</p>
-<p>
-John Leslie was devoted to his very pretty and very managing wife, and had
-learned wisdom, so that he never meddled, but always waited till his
-advice was invited. Like other wise husbands, he could read his wife's
-face, and he saw that afternoon, two days before Christmas, as soon as he
-entered the drawing-room, that there had been trouble in the household.
-His kiss was received without response; her cheeks had the suggestion of a
-flush; her lips were tightly drawn; and there was a light in her eyes
-which meant defiance. She stated with emphasis, in reply to a daily
-inquiry, that she was perfectly well, and that everything had gone well
-that day. When she inquired why he should suppose that anything was wrong,
-he knew that it had been a black storm, and that the end thereof was not
-yet.
-</p>
-<p>
-“By the way, Flo,”—and Leslie congratulated himself on avoiding
-every hidden rock,—“I've completed my list of Christmas presents,
-and I flatter myself on one downright success, which suggests that I have
-original genius.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Do you mean the picture of Soundbergh School for Jack?” said Mrs. Leslie
-coldly. “I daresay he will be pleased, although I don't believe that boys
-care very much for anything except for games and gingerbread cakes; they
-are simply barbarians”; and as Leslie knew that his wife had been
-ransacking London to get a natty portable camera wherewith Jack might take
-bits of scenery, his worst-weather guess seemed to be confirmed.
-</p>
-<p>
-“No, no, that was obvious, and I believe Jack will be fearfully proud of
-his picture,” replied Leslie bravely; “but I was at my wit's end to know
-what to get for old Margaret. You see, I used to give her pincushions and
-works of art from the Thames Tunnel when I was a little chap, and I bought
-her boas and gay-coloured handkerchiefs when I came up at Christmas from
-Oxford, and you know since she left the old home and settled with us
-eighteen years ago we have exhausted the whole catalogue.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You have, at least”; and having no clue, Leslie was amazed at his wife's
-indifference to the factotum and ruler of the household, whom the junior
-servants were obliged to call Mrs. Hoskins—“Mrs.” being a title of
-dignity, not of marriage—or Cook at the lowest, and who was called
-everything by her old boy John Leslie and his son Jack, from Maggie to
-Magsibus, and answered to anything by which her two masters chose to name
-her.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Oh, you have been as keen as any one in the family about Magsy's
-present,”—and Leslie still clung to hope,—“but I've walked out
-before you all. What do you think of a first-class likeness of Spurgeon in
-an oak frame, with his autograph? You know how she goes on about him, and
-reads his sermons. It 'ill be hung in the place of honour in the kitchen,
-with burnished tin and brass dishes on either side. Now, confess, haven't
-I scored?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“If you propose to put your picture on her table on Christmas morning, I
-fear you will be a day late, for Margaret has given up her place, and
-asked to be allowed to leave to-morrow: she wants to bid Jack good-bye
-before she goes,” and Mrs. Leslie's voice was iced to twenty degrees below
-freezing.
-</p>
-<p>
-“What do you mean?” cried Leslie, aghast, for in all his dark imaginations
-he had never anticipated this catastrophe. “Maggie! our Meg! leaving at a
-day's notice! It's too absurd! You've... had a quarrel, I suppose, but
-that won't, come to anything. Christmas is the time for... making up.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You do not know much about household management, John,” Mrs. Leslie
-explained with much dignity. “Mistresses don't quarrel with servants,
-however much provoked they may be. If I have to find fault, I make a rule
-of doing so quickly and civilly, and I allow no reply. It was Margaret
-flung up her place with very unbecoming language; and you may be sure this
-time there will be no 'making up,' as you call it.
-</p>
-<p>
-“What happened, Florence?” said John Leslie, with a note in his voice
-which a woman never treats with disrespect. “You know I do not interfere
-between you and the young servants, but Margaret has been with us since we
-married, and before that was for sixteen years in my father's house. We
-cannot part lightly; did she speak discourteously to you?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I do not know what a man may call discourtesy, but Margaret informed me
-that either she or the housemaid must leave, and that the sooner the
-housemaid went the better for the house.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“But I thought that the housemaid was a Baptist too, and that Margaret and
-she got on capitally, and rather looked down on the waitress because she
-was a Methodist.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“So they did for a time, till they found out that they were different
-kinds of Baptists, just imagine! They had such arguments in the kitchen
-that Lucy has had to sit in her pantry, and last evening Margaret called
-the housemaid a 'contracted Baptist,' and she said Margaret was a 'loose
-Baptist.' So Margaret told me that if she was a 'loose Baptist,' it was
-not good for the housemaid to stay in the house with her; and if I
-preferred a woman like that, she would go at once, and so she is going.”
- “When men break on theology in the smoking-room,” remarked Leslie, “the
-wise go to bed at once, and two women—and one of them old Margaret—on
-the distinctions among the Baptist denomination must be beyond words and
-endurance. It is natural that places should be given up, but not necessary
-that the offer should be accepted. What did you say to Margaret,
-Florence?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“That she had secured the dismissal of five servants already within three
-years: one because she was High Church; a second because she was no
-Church; that big housemaid from Devon for no reason I could discover
-except that she ate too much, as if we grudged food; the last waitress
-because she did not work enough, as if that concerned her; and the one
-before because she had a lover Margaret did not approve, and that I did
-not propose to lose a good housemaid because she was not the same sort of
-Baptist as Margaret.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It is very nice and romantic to talk about the old family servant,”
- continued Mrs. Leslie with a vibrant voice, “and I hope that I have not
-been ungrateful to Margaret, but people forget what a mistress has to
-suffer from the 'old family servant,' and I tell you, John, that I can
-endure Margaret's dictation no longer. She must leave, or... I must”; and
-when his wife swept out of the room to dress for dinner, Leslie knew that
-they had come to a crisis in family life.
-</p>
-<h3>
-II
-</h3>
-<p>
-“How are you, mummy?” and Jack burst in upon the delighted household
-gathered in the hall with a trail of loosely packed luggage behind him,
-and a pair of skates he had forgotten to pack altogether, round his neck.
-“I say, that's a ripping dress you have on. Cusack, our house 'pre,' says
-yours is the prettiest photo he ever saw. You're looking fit, pater, but
-you must come a trot with me, or you'll have a pot soon. Jolly journey?
-Should rather think so! dressed old Swallow up in a rug, and laid him out
-on a seat; people thought he had small-pox, and wouldn't come in; four of
-us had the place to ourselves all the way: foxey, wasn't it? Cold, not a
-bit. We shoved every hot-water pan in below the seats, and the chaps put
-more in at every stop, till we had eight in full blast.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Look out, cabby, and be kind to that hamper with my best china. What is
-it? Oh, that's some really decent booze for the festivities—three
-dozen Ripon stone ginger; and there's a dozen among my shirts. Can't get
-that tipple in the South. How are you, Lucy and Mary? I've got a pair of
-spiffing caps for you; do for church if you like. But where is the
-youthful Marguerite? She used to be always dodging round, pretending that
-she was just passing by accident. Dinner ready? All right; I'm pretty
-keen, too. Tell Magsibus I'll be down after dessert with a brimming bowl
-of stone ginger.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Hello, old lady! As you didn't come up to welcome the returning prodigal
-at the door, he's come down to give you his blessing. It's all right, Mag,
-I was only fooling. You daren't have taken your eye off that pudding one
-minute, I know. It was A 1; best thing you ever did, and awfully good to
-have it for the first night.
-</p>
-<p>
-“That gingerbread you sent took the cup this term, and no second. Fellows
-offered to do my lines for me, and sucked up to me no end just to get a
-slice. Ain't that the tin up there you make it in? Chap next study had a
-thing he called gingerbread—feeblest show you ever saw—burnt
-crust outside and wet dough inside.
-</p>
-<p>
-“There's the old brass jam-pan, Peg, ain't it? Do you remember when Billy
-Poole and I used to help at the boiling, and get the skim for our share?
-Billy's won a scholarship at Cambridge; youngest chap to take it, and is a
-howling Greek swell, but you bet he hasn't forgot that hot jam. Not he;
-was asking for you last week. I'll get him here next autumn before he goes
-up, and we'll have a jam blow-out.... What's wrong, Magsy?
-</p>
-<p>
-“Don't blub. Tell me who's been hitting you. Is it those two young fools?
-The mater will soon settle their hash. Here's my handkerchief. There, now
-you're all right, ar'n't you?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It's really silly of me, Master Jack, and I ought to be ashamed of
-myself, at my age too, but it was you speaking of next year. I thought
-perhaps your mother had told you that... I am leaving tomorrow.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Going to leave us and your home?” and Jack sat down on the kitchen table
-in stark amazement. “Where would you go to, Magsy? Why, you nursed me when
-I was a kid, and you knew the pater when he was a fellow at school. Why,
-you couldn't get on without us, and, look here, this circus can't be
-worked without you.
-</p>
-<p>
-“If you don't feel fit for the cooking,—and it must be a beastly
-stew over the fire,—mother'ill get another hand, and you'll just
-order her round and have a good time.” But Margaret sat with sad,
-despairing eyes, looking straight before her, and making no sign.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You couldn't do it, Magsibus,” and the lad came over and put his arm
-round her; “it would be too mean. Didn't you promise to wait and start
-house with me, the same as you did with father? and now you calmly
-announce that you are going to set up for yourself, and be a lady. Oh, you
-treacherous, wicked woman!”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Master Jack, I have not a relative living, and I couldn't go to another
-place—I've been too long with one family—four-and-thirty years—and
-I don't know what I'll do without the sight of you, for my heart has no
-portion outside this house on earth; but I must go, I cannot do otherwise,
-I must go.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You see, I'm getting old, dear, and I've been so long here that I forget
-it's not my own house—God knows that I would die for you all—and
-I have a temper, and I shall be... a trouble and not a help. Your mother
-has been a good mistress to me, and been kinder to me than I have been to
-her. I'll pray for you all as long as I live, and I would like to... see
-you sometimes; but I must go, Master Jack, I must go.”
- </p>
-<h3>
-III
-</h3>
-<p>
-“It seems to me, Flo,” and Leslie stretched out his legs in the warmth,
-“the chief good of easy circumstances is being able to afford a wood fire
-in one's bedroom,—that and books. Do you remember that evil-smelling
-oil-stove in our little house at Islington? By the way, did I tell you
-that I ran out one afternoon last week, when I had an hour to spare, and
-paid an outside visit to our first home. It looked rather forlorn, and so
-small and shabby.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It was the dearest little house when we lived in it, John,” and Mrs.
-Leslie saw wonderful things in the firelight; “and when you were at the
-office I used to go from room to room, arranging and dusting and
-admiring.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes, but you also had the most toothsome evening meals ready at eight
-p.m. for a struggling colonial broker, and used to dress perfectly, and
-did it all on next to nothing.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Two hundred and twenty-two pounds five shillings and threepence—that,
-sir, was the first year's income. Don't you remember making up the book,
-and finding we had thirty pounds over; but, then, Jack, we had... a
-perfect servant.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Poor Margaret! what an interest she took in our daring enterprise! By the
-way, your memory is better than mine, wife: didn't we tell her how the
-balance stood, and she was the best pleased of the three?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“'Praise God!' she cried, 'I knew, Mr. John, you did right to trust and to
-marry, and some day I'll see you in a big house, if God will'; and then
-you told her to bring up her missionary box and you gave her a sovereign,
-and when she put it in, her hand was shaking for joy. Her temper has got
-masterful since she grew old, and she is aggravating; but I know she's a
-good woman.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes, Meg wouldn't have left us if we had been down on our luck: I believe
-she would have seen us through and gone without wages”; and Leslie spoke
-with the tone of one hazarding a wild speculation.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You believe, John!” clever women are sometimes befooled. “Why, have you
-forgotten that winter when you lost so heavily, and it looked as if we
-would have to go into rooms, how Margaret wanted to go out cooking to help
-the family, and she would have done it had not things taken a turn?
-Whatever be her faults,—and she has been provoking,—she is a
-loyal soul.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, we only had one bad illness, Flo, and I'll never forget the
-mornings when I came from my lodgings and stood on the street, and you
-told me what kind of night Jack had had, and the days when I toiled at the
-office, and you fought scarlet fever at home. You were a brave woman—without
-a nurse, too.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Without what—for shame, John!—when Maggie sat up all night
-and worked all day, and was so clever that the doctor said she had saved
-Jack's life—well, perhaps be admitted that I helped, but she did
-more than I could—I would rather have let twenty housemaids go than
-see Maggie leave, John, if she had given me the chance.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Margaret always had a temper, Flo, even in the old days when I was a boy,
-and now she's fairly roused.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It isn't temper at all now, John, or I would not be so vexed: it's her
-goodness which will drive her out in the end, and she'll never know one
-day of happiness again. She told me to-night that she was sure that there
-would always be trouble between her and the other servants, and as she had
-tried to serve us well when she was younger she would not make our home
-unhappy in her old age. Jack pleaded with her, and I—I nearly cried;
-she was quite affected, too, but she is immovable.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, we can do no more, and you mustn't blame yourself, Flo: it has just
-been a smash; and if she does go, we must see that she be made comfortable
-in her last years. But I wish old Margaret were not leaving us on
-Christmas Eve. Jack is very sick about it, and I rather suspect that he
-was crying when I looked into his room just now; but he pretended to be
-asleep, and I couldn't insult a fellow in the fifth form with remarks.”
- </p>
-<h3>
-IV
-</h3>
-<p>
-When the Leslies set up house, eighteen years before, Margaret received
-them on their return from their ten days' wedding tour in the Lake
-District, and she was careful to ask in the evening whether Mr. John would
-like prayers before or after breakfast next morning. She also produced a
-book of family prayers, which she had purchased in anticipation of the
-sole difficulty which is understood to prevent the majority of male
-householders from having worship in their homes, and asked her young
-master and mistress to accept it from her. So it came to pass that owing
-to Margaret there were always morning prayers at the Leslies'; and in
-observance of a custom begun when there were just the three in the little
-house of Islington, fighting the battle of life together, the chapter was
-read round, each person taking one verse in turn. To-night Leslie divided
-his time between short snatches of sleep, when he dreamt of funerals in
-which Margaret departed sitting beside the driver of the hearse, while a
-mourning coach followed with her luggage on the roof, and long periods of
-wakefulness when he regarded next morning's prayers with dismay. Was there
-a special prayer for a servant leaving her household after eighteen—no,
-thirty-four years' faithful duty; and if there was not, could he weave in
-a couple of sentences among the petitions? At half-past six he was certain
-that he could not, and was ashamed at the thought that with that well worn
-prayer-book of Margaret's before him he would allow her to depart without
-a benediction, when he was visited quite suddenly, he declares, with the
-most brilliant inspiration of his life. He leaped from bed and lit the gas
-in hot haste, as poets are said to do when the missing word to rhyme with
-Timbuctoo flashes upon the mind.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Florence, please tell me something”; and Mrs. Leslie saw her husband
-standing by her bed in poorly concealed excitement. “Where are those words
-that were sung at the sacred concert: 'Intreat me not to leave thee'? I
-want to know at once; never mind why. Ruth? Thanks so much,” and the noise
-he made in his bath was audible through the wall, and was that of a man in
-hot haste.
-</p>
-<p>
-When Mrs. Leslie came down, her husband had a marker in the Bible
-projecting six inches, and was checking certain calculations on a sheet of
-paper with much care.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Morning, Jack—slept well—not very? That's right, I mean I'm
-very sorry, must have been the pudding. Not there, for any sake; sit here,
-and, let me see—Florence, where are you wandering to? Take this
-chair. Six, seven, eight... seventeen, yes, that's Margaret. Now ring the
-bell.” And Mrs. Leslie could only look at Leslie in silence, while Jack
-felt that the firmament was being shaken that day, and one catastrophe
-more did not matter.
-</p>
-<p>
-“We shall read,” said the head of the household in a shaky voice, “from—eh—the—eh—Book
-of Ruth, the first chapter and the sixth verse”; and as soon as his wife
-saw the passage she understood, and so did Margaret.
-</p>
-<p>
-Round the circle went the verses—Leslie very nervous lest he should
-have miscalculated—till Jack read:
-</p>
-<p>
-“'And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following
-after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I
-will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.'”
- </p>
-<p>
-Then it came to Margaret, and she began bravely, but soon weakened: “Where
-thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried... the Lord do so to
-me, and more also, if ought but death... part...”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Let us pray,” said Leslie; and it is his fixed belief that, having lost
-the place, he read the prayer for the close of the year and making an
-attempt to right himself landed in a thanksgiving for the gift of a
-new-born child; but nobody is certain and nobody cared.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I ought to go,” said Margaret, standing very white by the sideboard after
-the other servants had left the room, “and it would be better for you all,
-whom I love, that I should go; but... I cannot, I can...”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Dear old Magsibus,” and Jack had her round the waist before she could say
-“not” again, or even explain, as she did afterwards, how good a woman the
-housemaid was, and how much she would miss her; and as Mrs. Leslie thought
-of the days they had been together, the saving the lad from death and many
-another deed of loyal, ungrudging service, she did that which was contrary
-to every rule of household discipline. But Leslie could not have seen his
-wife kiss Margaret, for his back was turned, and he was studying the
-snow-covered garden with rapt attention.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-VII.—A RACONTEUR
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>OU must excuse me the gaucherie of a compliment,” I said to Bevan in the
-smoking-room, after a very pleasant dinner, “but you have never been more
-brilliant. Five stories, and each a success, is surely a record even in
-your experience.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It is very good of you to appreciate my poor efforts so highly. I felt it
-a distinct risk to attempt five in one evening—six is the farthest
-limit sanctioned by any raconteur of standing. You can always distinguish
-an artist from a mere amateur by his severe reserve. He knows that an
-anecdote is a liqueur, and he offers it seldom; but the other pours out
-his stuff like vin ordinaire, which it is, as a rule, the mere dregs of
-the vine. Did you ever notice how a man will come back from Scotland in
-autumn, and bore companies of unoffending people with a flood of what he
-considers humorous Scottish stories? It is one of the brutalities of
-conversation. What irritates me is not that the material is Scottish, for
-there are many northern stories with a fine flavour; it is the fellow's
-utter ignorance of the two great principles of our art.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Which are?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Selection and preparation,” said Bevan, with decision. “One must first
-get good stuff, and then work it into shape. It is amazing how much is
-offered and how little is of any use. People are constantly bringing me
-situations that they think excellent, and are quite disappointed when I
-tell them they are impossible for the purposes of art. Nothing can be done
-with them, although of course another artist in a different line might use
-them. Now I have passed several 'bits' on to Brown-Johnes, who delivers
-popular lectures. The platform story is scene-painting, the after-dinner
-miniature.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“May I ask whether you are ever taken in, as it were, with your material,
-and find it 'give' after it has been manufactured, like rotten yarn or
-unseasoned wood?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Rarely; one's eye gets to be trained so that you know a promising subject
-at sight, but then comes the labour. I've heard a man bore a dinner-table
-to the yawning point with a story that had some excellent points in it,
-but he had taken no trouble, perhaps had no insight.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“And you succeeded with it...?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It is, in my humble judgment, as good a story of its kind now as you
-would wish to hear, and it bears improvement, which is a good sign. A
-really high-class story will take years to perfect, just as I am told by
-clergymen that a sermon only begins to go after it has been preached
-twenty times.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You have been working on that Shakespeare bit, by the way; I noticed at
-least one new touch this evening which was excellent.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Now that is very gratifying,” and Bevan was evidently pleased; “it is a
-great satisfaction to have one's work appreciated in an intelligent
-manner; perhaps you are the only one present who saw any difference.
-</p>
-<p>
-“What I think I like best”—and he tapped his snuff-box in a
-meditative way—“is to get an old, decayed, hopeless story, and
-restore it. Breaking out a window here, adding a porch there, opening up a
-room, and touching up the walls—it is marvellous what can be done.
-Besides new drains,” he added, with significance, “the sanitary state of
-some of those old stories is awful. You feel the atmosphere at the door—quite
-intolerable, and indeed dangerous.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Then you do not think that indecency...?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“No, nor profanity. Both are bad art; they are cheap expedients, like
-strong sauces to cover bad cooking. It sounds like boasting, but I have
-redeemed one or two very unpleasant tales, which otherwise had been
-uninhabitable, if I may trifle again with my little figure, and now are
-charming.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You rather lean, one would gather, to old tales, while some of the
-younger men are terrified of telling a 'chestnut,' always prefacing, 'This
-must be well known, but it is new to me; say at once if you have heard
-it.'”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Most humiliating, and quite unworthy of an artist. Heard it before!” and
-the old gentleman was full of scorn. “Imagine a painter apologizing for
-having taken a bend of the Thames or a Highland glen some man had used
-before. Of course, if one makes a copy of a picture and exhibits it as his
-own, that is fraud, and the work is certain to be poor. One must respect
-another artist's labour, which is the ground of his copyright. But if one
-makes a 'bit' of life as old as Aristophanes or Horace his own, by passing
-it through his own fancy and turning it out in his own style, then it is
-ever new. Then there is the telling! There are musicians who can compose,
-but who cannot play, and <i>vice versâ</i>. So with our art, there are
-story-tellers and story-makers. The former can suffer no wrong, for they
-are self-protected, but the latter have never been protected as they
-deserve in the fruit of their brains. You will see at once that, if I am
-right, the ownership of an anecdote is quite beyond dispute. The original
-material is really for the most part common property, and usually very
-poor property—prairie land, in fact. Personal rights come in when
-one has put capital into the land, has cleared and ploughed and sown it;
-then it's his own, and he is entitled to fence it, and he cannot be
-dispossessed except on fair terms.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Which would be?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Well, that depends. He might sell to an editor, or he might give the use
-of it to a friend. Personally, as an artist of now thirty years' standing,
-I do not part with my work; it may be an old-fashioned prejudice, but I
-don't like to let it go to the public.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“But to a friend?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Of course that is different; still, how few can be trusted. Now I once
-gave Higginbotham a very nice little thing of French extraction, but not
-too subtle, with just enough body to suit our palate. He beard me tell it
-three times in exactly the same form, and I pledged him to make no
-changes, for his hand is heavy. Would you believe me?”—and my friend
-sat up in his indignation—“he gave it in my presence—but that
-did not matter—and left out the best point, which I now think he had
-never seen. Life has various trials in store for us as times go on,” and
-Bevan leant back again. “Some are greater, some are less, but among our
-minor vexations I know none like sitting at one end of a table and making
-talk with your partner, while a rank amateur at the other end mangles one
-of your pet anecdotes.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Torture, I should think; but isn't it rather trying when people miss the
-point altogether or ask stupid questions?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Artists must take their chance of that, and one is careful; besides, I've
-distinctly enjoyed such remarks,” and he looked quite genial. “It's like a
-painter hearing the people criticize the pictures on a free day. Once or
-twice I've got a very happy addition to a story in that way. After all,
-the main end of a raconteur must be to give pleasure. Yes”—and he
-began to glow—“no art is wholesome which lives for itself or for a
-professional class. Art must be a criticism of life and an aid to better
-living. No one can tell how much story-telling has contributed to the
-brightness and elevation of life. How? By correcting foibles, by
-explaining human nature, by destroying cant, by infusing good humour, by
-diminishing scandal, by—but I remind myself that a raconteur ought
-never to be excited or eloquent. He may, however, be a philanthropist, as
-it would appear. Do you know,” with a tone of great delight, “that I was
-once asked by a physician to call upon one of his patients, a mutual
-friend, and spend an hour with him, as a... tonic, in fact. It was after
-influenza, and the convalescent began by asking me whether I would
-distribute a sum of money among the poor. 'I'm not sure what I'm dying of;
-either peritonitis or pneumonia, but I'm glad to see you, Bevan, and you
-will do this little kindness for me'—those were his affecting words.
-'Certainly,' I said, and that led me to give him a trifle from Devonshire—excellent
-place for stories—which seemed to interest him. I only told four
-stories—for he was rather weak, having had a slight touch of
-bronchitis—and he is pleased still to thank me,” and Bevan nodded
-with much satisfaction.
-</p>
-<p>
-As I looked at him, so filled with the pride of his art, the time seemed
-to have come for a question that had long been in my mind. But it was
-necessary to be careful.
-</p>
-<p>
-“What, may I ask, Mr. Bevan, do you feel about the matter of... well, you
-won't misunderstand me... of accuracy?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“You mean whether is there any difference between giving evidence in a
-witness-box and relating an anecdote. Everything. The one is a land
-surveyor's plan, and must be correct to an inch. The other is a picture,
-and must interpret nature. The one is a matter of fact, the other a work
-of art. Imagine the folly”—and the good man rose to his feet—“if
-one should demand to know whether the figures in a historical painting
-stood exactly so and were dressed in those particular colours; we should
-think the man mad. A story is a miniature novel, shot through with humour,
-a morsel of the irony of things, a tiny comedy, and for it there is but
-one rule of judgment—does it represent the spirit of life?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“What then do you think of one who should certify an anecdote as a fact?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“That he did not know his craft, for if the tale has no merit, then it is
-little compensation to tell us it happened; if it has merit, we are sure
-it ought to have happened.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“And if one should interrupt a raconteur as he approached his point, and
-should inquire whether the thing be true?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I am a merciful man,” said the venerable artist, “but my conviction is
-that he ought to be shot.”
- </p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-VIII.—WITH UNLEAVENED BREAD
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">R</span>ABBI SAUNDERSON, minister of Kilbogie, had been the preacher on the fast
-day before Carmichaele's first sacrament in the Glen, and, under the full
-conviction that he had only been searching out his own sins, the old man
-had gone through the hearts of the congregation as with the candle of the
-Lord, till Donald Menzies, who had all along suspected that he was little
-better than a hypocrite, was now fully persuaded that for him to take the
-sacrament would be to eat and drink condemnation to himself, and Lauchlan
-Campbell was amazed to discover that a mere Lowland Scot like the rabbi
-was as mighty a preacher of the law as the chief of the Highland host. The
-rabbi had been very tender withal, so that the people were not only
-humbled, but also moved with the honest desire after better things.
-</p>
-<p>
-Although it was a bitter day, and the snow was deep upon the ground, the
-rabbi would not remain over-night with Carmichael. Down in Kilbogie an old
-man near fourscore years of age was dying, and was not assured of the way
-everlasting, and the rabbi must needs go back through the snow that he
-might sit by his bedside and guide his feet into the paths of peace. All
-that night the rabbi wrestled with God that it might be His good pleasure
-to save this man even at the eleventh hour; and it was one of the few joys
-that visited the rabbi in his anxious ministry, that, before the grey
-light of a winter morning came into that lowly room, this aged sinner of
-Kilbogie had placed himself within the covenant of grace.
-</p>
-<p>
-While he was ministering the promises in that cottage, and fighting a
-strong battle for an immortal soul, Carmichael had sent away his dogs, and
-was sitting alone in the low-roofed study of the Free Kirk manse, with the
-curtains drawn and the wood fire lighting up the room—for he had put
-out the lamp—but leaving shadows in the corners where there were no
-books, and where occasionally the red paper loomed forth like blood.
-</p>
-<p>
-As the rabbi preached that day, the buoyancy and self-confidence of youth
-had been severely chastened, and sitting in the manse pew, curtained off
-from the congregation, the conscience of the young minister had grown
-tender. It was a fearful charge to lay on any man, and he only
-four-and-twenty years of age, the care of human souls; and what manner of
-man must he be who should minister unto them after a spiritual sort the
-body and blood of Jesus Christ? How true must be his soul, and how clean
-his hands! For surely, if any man would be damned in this world, and in
-that which is to come, it would be the man who dispensed the sacrament
-unworthily.
-</p>
-<p>
-As he sat in the firelight the room seemed to turn into a place of
-judgment. Round the walls were the saints of the Church Catholic, and St.
-Augustine questioned him closely regarding the evil imagination of
-youthful days, and Thomas à Kempis reproached him because he had so often
-flinched in the way of the holy cross. Scottish worthies whose lives he
-had often read, and whose sayings had been often quoted from the pulpit,
-sat in judgment upon him as to his own personal faith and to his own ends
-in the ministry. Samuel Rutherford, with his passionate letters,
-reproached him for his coldness towards Christ; and MacCheyne's life,
-closed in early manhood, and filled with an unceasing hunger for the
-salvation of human souls, condemned him for his easy walk and
-conversation; and Leighton, the gentlest of all the Scotch saints, made
-him ashamed of bitter words and resentful feelings. And from the walls the
-face of his mother's minister regarded him with wistful regret, and seemed
-to plead with him to return to his first love and the simplicity of his
-mother's faith.
-</p>
-<p>
-The roof hung heavy over his head, and the walls took a deeper red, while
-the burning logs reminded him of the consuming fire. An owl hooted outside—a
-weird and mournful cry—and to the mind of a Celt like Carmichael it
-seemed to be a warning to set his house in order. He crossed to the
-window, which faced west, and commanded a long stretch of Glen, and,
-standing within the curtain, he looked out upon the clear winter night.
-How pure was the snow, putting all other white to shame! How merciless the
-cold light of the moon, that flung into relief the tiniest branches of the
-trees! “Holiness be-cometh thine house, O Lord, for ever.” And he was a
-minister of the Word and sacrament! The people had been called unto
-repentance, but he needed most of all the contrite heart. The people had
-been commanded to confess their sins; it were time that he began.
-</p>
-<p>
-He knelt at his table, bending his head over the very place where he wrote
-his sermons, and as he prayed before God the sins of early years came up
-before him, and passed as in a woful procession—ghosts which had
-risen from their graves, in which they had long been hid beneath the green
-grass and the flowers. There remained nothing for him but to acknowledge
-them one by one with shame and confusion of face, and behold! as he did
-so, and humbled himself before the Lord, they vanished from his sight till
-he hoped that the last of them had come and gone. When it seemed to him as
-if one had lingered behind the rest, and desired to see him quite alone,
-and when the shroud fell down, he looked into the face of one who had been
-his friend in college days, and then he knew that all which had gone
-before was only a preparation, and this was now his testing time.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was a mighty college to which Carmichael had belonged, and the men
-thereof had been lifted high above their fellows, and among them all there
-had been none so superior as this man who was once his friend. Some he
-looked down upon because they were uncouth in manner; and some because
-they were deficient in scholarship; and others, who were neither ill-bred
-nor unlearned, he would have nothing to do with because they had not the
-note of culture, but were Philistine in their ideas of art and in their
-ignorance of “precious” literature.
-</p>
-<p>
-In spite of all this foolishness, the root of the matter was in Frederick
-Harris. No man had a keener sense of honour, no man was more ready to help
-a fellow-student, none worked harder in the mission of the college, none
-lived a simpler life. Yet because he was without doubt a superior person,
-even beyond all other superior persons—and the college was greatly
-blessed with this high order of beings—certain men were blind to his
-excellences, and cherished a dull feeling of resentment against him; and
-there were times when Carmichael dared to laugh at him, whereat Harris was
-very indignant, and reproached him for vulgar frivolity.
-</p>
-<p>
-One day a leaflet was found in every class-room of the college, and in the
-dining-hall, and in the gymnasium, and in every other room—even, it
-is said, in the Senate-room itself. Its title was, <i>A Mighty Young Man</i>,
-and it was a merciless description of Harris in verse, from the crown of
-his head to the sole of his foot, in all his ways and words—coarse
-and insulting, but incisive and clever. He was late in entering the Hebrew
-class-room that morning, and was soon conscious that the students were
-interested in other things besides the authorship of the Pentateuch.
-Opposite him lay the poem, and, after he had read the first verse, his
-face turned to a fiery red, and then he left the class-room with much
-dignity.
-</p>
-<p>
-It had been better for himself, and it would have saved much sorrow to
-Carmichael, if Harris had treated the poem with indifference; but, like
-many other people who allow themselves the luxury of despising their
-fellow-creatures, he was morbidly sensitive when his fellow-creatures
-turned on him. For some reason, known only to himself, he concluded that
-Carmichael had written the poem, and demanded an apology with threats; and
-Carmichael, who had thought the thing in very poor taste, and would have
-been willing to laugh at it along with Harris, was furious that he should
-have been supposed guilty of such a breach of friendship. So, being a
-Celt, who acts by impulse rather than by reason, he told Harris in the
-Common Hall that, if he supposed that he had written the sheet, he was at
-liberty to do so, and need not expect either a denial or an apology.
-</p>
-<p>
-They never spoke again, nor met except in a public place, and when
-Carmichael was ordained minister in the Glen, Harris joined a mission
-settlement in one of the lowest quarters of a southern city.
-</p>
-<p>
-From time to time Carmichael read greedily of his heroic service, and the
-power which he was acquiring—for he had never been haughty with poor
-people, but ever with them most gentle and humble. Again and again it had
-been laid on Carmichael to write to his old friend, and express regret for
-his pride, and assure him of his innocence in the matter of the squib, but
-he thought that Harris ought first to write to him, and then, if he did,
-Carmichael meant to telegraph, and invite his friend to come up to the
-Glen, where they would renew the fellowship of former days. But Harris
-gave no sign, and Carmichael had no need to telegraph.
-</p>
-<p>
-Carmichael rose from his knees, and opened a drawer in his writing-table,
-and from below a mass of college papers took out a photograph. The
-firelight was enough to show the features, and memory did the rest. They
-had once shared rooms together, and a more considerate chum no man could
-have. They had gone on more than one walking tour together, and never once
-had Harris lost his temper; they had done work together in a mission
-school, and on occasion Harris had been ready to do Carmichael's as well
-as his own; they had also prayed together, and there was no pride in
-Harris when he prayed.
-</p>
-<p>
-What were his faults, after all? A certain fastidiousness of intellect,
-and an unfortunate mannerism, and a very innocent form of
-self-approbation, and an instinctive shrinking from rough-mannered men—nothing
-more. There was in him no impurity, nor selfishness, nor meanness, nor
-trickiness, nor jealousy, nor evil temper. And this was the man—his
-friend also—to whom he had refused to give the satisfaction of an
-explanation, and whom he had made to suffer bitterly during his last
-college term. And just because Harris was of porcelain ware, and not
-common delf, would he suffer the more.
-</p>
-<p>
-He had refused to forgive this man his trespass, which was his first
-transgression against him, and now that he thought of it, hardly to be
-called a transgression. How could he ask God to forgive him his own
-trespasses? and if he neither forgave nor was forgiven, how dare he
-minister the sacrament unto his people? He would write that night, and
-humble himself before his friend, and beseech him for a message, however
-brief, that would lift the load from off his heart before he broke bread
-in the sacrament.
-</p>
-<p>
-Then it came to his mind that no letter could reach that southern town
-till Saturday morning, and therefore no answer come to him till Monday,
-and meanwhile who would give the people the sacrament, and how could he
-communicate himself? For his own sin, his foolish pride and fiery temper,
-would fence the holy table and hinder his approach. He must telegraph, and
-an impression took hold upon his heart that there must be no delay. The
-clock in the lobby—an eight-day clock that had come from his
-mother's house, and seemed to him a kind of censor of his doings—struck
-three, for the hours had flown in the place of judgment, and now the
-impression began to deepen that there was not an hour to be lost. He must
-telegraph, and as the office at Kilbogie would be open at five o'clock to
-dispatch a mail, they would send a wire for him. It would be heavy walking
-through the snow, but the moon was still up, and two hours were more than
-enough.
-</p>
-<p>
-As he picked his way carefully where the snow had covered the ditches, or
-turned the flank of a drift, he was ever grudging the lost time, and ever
-the foreboding was deeper in his heart that he might be too late, not for
-the opening of Kilbogie post-office, but for something else—he knew
-not what. So bravely had he struggled through the snow that it was still a
-quarter to five when he passed along sleeping Kilbogie; and so eager was
-he by this time that he roused the friendly postmaster, and induced him by
-all kinds of pleas, speaking as if it were life and death, to open
-communication with Muirtown, where there was always a clerk on duty, and
-to send on to that southern city the message he had been composing as he
-came down through the snow and the woods:
-</p>
-<p>
-“It was not I. I could not have done it. Forgive my silence, and send a
-message before Sunday, for it is my first sacrament in Drumtochty.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Your affectionate friend,
-</p>
-<p>
-“John Carmichael.”
- </p>
-<p>
-It was still dark when he reached the manse again, and before he fell
-asleep he prayed that the telegram might not be too late, but as he
-prayed, he asked himself what he meant, and could not answer. For the Celt
-has warnings other men do not receive, and hears sounds they do not hear.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was noon next day, the Saturday before the sacrament, and almost time
-for the arrival of the preacher, before he awoke, and then he had not
-awaked unless the housekeeper had brought him this telegram from “Mistress
-Harris, St. Andrew's Settlement, Mutford, E.”:
-</p>
-<p>
-“My son Frederick died this morning at eight o'clock of malignant fever.
-He was conscious at the end, and we read your telegram to him. He sent
-this message: 'Long ago I knew it was not you, and I ought to have
-written. Forgive me, as I have forgiven you. My last prayer is for a
-blessing upon you and your people in the sacrament to-morrow. God be with
-you till we meet at the marriage supper of the Lamb!'”
- </p>
-<p>
-The text which Carmichael took for his action sermon on the morrow was,
-“Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them who trespass against us,”
- and he declared the forgiveness of sins with such irresistible grace that
-Donald Menzies twice said “Amen” aloud, and there are people who will
-remember that day unto the ages of ages.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-IX.—OUR FOREIGN MANNERS
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>F a student of life will only take his stand in the hall of one of those
-Swiss caravansaras which receives a trainful of Britons about six o'clock
-some evening in August and despatches them on their way by Diligence next
-morning, he will not lose his time, for he will have an opportunity of
-studying the foreign manners of his nation. The arrival of an Englishman
-of the John Bull type is indeed an event, and the place is shaken as by a
-whirlwind. A loud, clear, strident voice is heard sounding in the English
-tongue to the extremities of the hall, demanding that its owner be
-instantly taken to the rooms—“First floor,” I said, “with best view,
-according to the telegram sent yesterday,” refusing every explanation as
-to there being none disengaged, insisting that, somehow or other, rooms of
-that very kind be offered, and then grumbling its way upstairs, with an
-accompaniment in the minor key from a deprecating landlord, till a distant
-rumble dying away into the silence closes the incident. The landlord has
-reluctantly admitted that he has rooms on the second floor, better than
-any other in the house, which are being kept for a Russian prince, and if
-Monsieur will accept them for the night—and then Monsieur calls his
-wife's attention to the fact that when he put his foot down he gets his
-way. One does not, of course, believe that the landlord said what was
-absolutely true, and one would have been delighted had he plucked up
-courage and shown our compatriot to the door. But nothing is easier (and
-more enjoyable) than to point out how other people ought to conduct their
-affairs, and no doubt, were we Swiss innkeepers, needing to make a year's
-profit out of three months, we also would have taken rampant Englishmen by
-guile, as bulls are lassoed with ropes. Your heart would be adamant if you
-did not pardon the poor little device when our national voice is again
-raised in the dining-room ordering away a plate on account of an invisible
-smut, complaining of the wine because of a bit of cork, comparing the beef
-with the home roasts, and enlarging on a dozen defects in bedroom service
-to sympathetic spirits right and left, and, for that matter, as far as the
-voice can reach. In England that voice will give it to be understood that
-it could not be heard amid the chatter of noisy foreigners “gabbling away
-goodness knows what,” but as a matter of fact no combination of German,
-French, and Italian could resist the penetrating, domineering, unflinching
-accent. When that host bows the voice into an omnibus next morning with
-great politeness, then one has an illustration of the spread of the
-Christian spirit enough to reinforce the heart in the hours of blackest
-pessimism.
-</p>
-<p>
-Would a foreigner believe that the owner of this terrible voice is really
-one of the best? He is the soul of honour, and would cut off his hand
-rather than do a mean deed; his servants adore him, though he gives them
-what he calls a round of the guns once a week; and the last thing he did
-before leaving home was to visit an old gamekeeper who taught him to shoot
-the year he went to Harrow. When a good man preaches the charity sermon,
-this unsympathetic Englishman is quite helpless, and invariably doubles
-the sum set aside in his waistcoat pocket. Upon the bench he is merciless
-on poachers and tramps; in private he is the chosen prey of all kinds of
-beggars. In fact, he is in one way just what he specially detests—a
-sham—being the most overbearing, prejudiced, bigoted, the most
-modest, simple-minded, kind-hearted of men; and, in spite of that
-unchastened voice, a gentleman from the crown of his head to the sole of
-his foot. Certainly he ordereth over much, but he will take care that
-every servant has a reward before he leaves—going back from the
-omnibus to tip “that fellow with the green apron” who did some trifle for
-him last night—and if the landlord had only had the discernment to
-have described that accident to him, the driver's widow would have been
-richer by fifty francs.
-</p>
-<p>
-The blame of our foreign manners is partly geographical. We happen to be
-bom in an island, and our amazing ideas about continentals are being very
-slowly worn away by travel. It is just breaking on the average Briton
-that, although a foreigner does not splash in his bath of a morning so
-that neighbouring rooms can follow the details of his toilette, he may not
-be quite uncleanly; that one need not hide all his valuables beneath his
-pillow because the other three men in his compartment of the wagon lit do
-not speak English; that an Italian prince is not always a swindler, but
-may have as long a pedigree as certain members of the House of Lords; and
-that the men who constructed the Mont Cenis and St. Gothard tunnels must
-at least have understood the rudiments of engineering science. The puzzled
-expression on our countryman's face when he discovers that the foreigner
-can give us points—in conveyance of luggage, for instance, or the
-making of coffee, or in the small agriculture—goes to your heart. It
-seems to him a surprise on the part of Providence, and a violation of the
-favoured nation's clause.
-</p>
-<p>
-Perhaps it ought also to be said in our defence that we are afflicted by
-the infirmities of a ruling people. We are not only profoundly conscious
-that we are an invincible nation ourselves, but also are saturated with
-the belief that we have a commission to govern other nations. Our talents
-are mostly exercised in India and Africa, but if one reigns absolutely
-anywhere, he carries himself as a king everywhere, and the ordinary
-Englishman annexes any place he fancies in holiday time because his
-fathers have been appropriating provinces from time immemorial. One
-sometimes falls a prey to the Philistine that is in us all, and begins
-also to despise what our friend pleasantly calls “all this scraping and
-bowing,” by which he means a Frenchman's politeness in little things, and
-is tempted to think that it would be better if local government on the
-Continent were relieved of a burden of petty rules and a host of gorgeous
-officials, and were reinforced by a strong infusion of downright common
-sense. One means, in plain words, that if a foreign district were handed
-over to an English stipendiary magistrate and a score of London policemen,
-its people would learn for the first time the scope and meaning of good
-government.
-</p>
-<p>
-Many well-doing Englishmen cannot unto this day achieve a single
-grammatical sentence in any language except their own, and are free from
-all pretensions. Our rector stoutly declares that in his popular lecture,
-“To Paris and back, or a Glimpse of French Life,” he did not cite the
-familiarity of Parisian children with French as a proof of the precocity
-of foreigners, but he can never watch two Frenchmen in conversation
-without innocent enjoyment. The sounds they make are marvellous, but it is
-beyond question that they mean something, and it is pleasant to know that
-persons who cannot speak English are not left without means of
-communication. Foreigners, an Englishman remembers, labour under hopeless
-disabilities. Little can be expected from a people whose language permits
-a sentence—in a scientific book too—to end with “zu, ab,” and
-one may not be Pharisaic and yet have gloomy views—this illustration
-can be used in the pulpit—about a nation that has no word for home.
-One of our French class at school, a stout gentleman now, and worth
-£100,000, declares he would never demean himself by any attempt at foreign
-tongues, and demands that foreigners should learn English, “which will yet
-be the language of the world.” He was recently boasting that he had
-travelled a month by the aid of signs, although he does himself less than
-justice, for on sight of the railway station he will say “Bannhof, eh?” to
-the driver in quite a jocular way, as one by way of pleasing a four-footed
-pet.
-</p>
-<p>
-Tittups, on the other hand, who reached the confines of the future tense
-with Moossy, and who affects culture, is understood to have an easy
-acquaintance with at least three Continental tongues in their more
-literary forms—colloquialisms he firmly refuses—and is worth
-hearing in a Florentine shop. “Avete voi” (Tittups is a little man, with a
-single eyeglass, and a voice three sizes too large for him); “ah... what
-you call... ah, papier und... ah, ein, that is eine Feder,” goes through a
-panto-mine of writing, and finally obtains what he wants by pointing it
-out with his stick. He is fond of enlarging on the advantage of reading
-Italian, and insists that no translation has ever conveyed the grander
-ideas of Dante, although Tittups admits that the ancient Italian tries
-him. “Have to work at it, you know; but the modern, a boy who knows his
-grammar can manage it. Seen the <i>Giomate di Roma</i> to-day?” Italians
-have a keener insight into character than any people in Europe, and one
-could almost pardon the attendant in the Mediterranean sleeper who
-insisted that Tittups must be a native-born Tuscan from the way he said
-“baga-glia.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Gli,” Tittups mentioned casually to a friend, is a test in Italian
-pronunciation, and he presented the discerning critic with a five-franc
-piece at Calais.
-</p>
-<p>
-But why should the average man laugh at Tittups, as if he had never had
-experiences? Has he never been asked by his companion, to whom he has been
-an oracle on German literature, to translate some utterly absurd and
-unnecessary piece of information posted on the carriage, and been humbled
-in the dust?
-</p>
-<p>
-“Oh,” he said, quite carelessly, “something about not leaving the train
-when it is in motion—zug, you know.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Pardon, mein Herr” (voice from the opposite side—what business had
-he to interfere?) “but the rule, when it has into English been translated,
-shall read———” and it turns out to be a warning not to
-stop the train without “plausible” reasons. Nothing is more disconcerting
-(and offensive) than to discover that the two imperturbable Germans in
-your carriage understand English perfectly, after you have been expressing
-your mind on German habits with that courtesy and freedom which are the
-prerogative of the Briton abroad. And can anything be more irritating and
-inexplicable than to find one's painfully accumulated store of foreign
-words ooze away in the crisis of travel, so that a respectable British
-matron, eager to be driven by the sea road at Cannes, is reduced to
-punching cocher in the small of the back with her parasol and shouting
-“eau de vie”—“and he drew up at a low public-house, as if we had
-been wanting a drink”—while her husband just escapes an apoplectic
-seizure, utilizing the remnants of three languages to explain his feelings
-as a Custom-house officer turns the contents of his portmanteau upside
-down.
-</p>
-<p>
-It is not wise, however, for avaricious foreigners to trade upon our
-simplicity, for there is always a chance that they may catch a Tartar.
-Never have I seen a more ingenuous youth (in appearance) than one who
-travelled with me one night from Geneva to Paris. His unbroken ignorance
-of Continental ways, which opposed (successfully) the introduction of more
-than four persons into our second; his impenetrable stupidity, which at
-last saved him from the Customs; his unparalleled atrocities on the French
-language, seemed to precede him on the line and suggest opportunities of
-brigandage. They charged him eighteen francs for his supper at a place
-where we stopped for nearly twenty minutes, and would likely have
-appropriated the remaining two francs out of the Napoleon he offered, but
-the bell sounded, and he bolted, forgetting in his nervousness that he had
-not paid. The garçon followed, whom he failed to understand, and three
-officials could not make the matter plainer. When the public meeting
-outside our door reached its height there were present the station-master,
-seven minor officials, two gendarmes in great glory, a deputation of four
-persons from the buffet, an interpreter whose English was miraculous, and
-a fringe of loafers. Just as the police were about to do their duty our
-fellow passenger condescended on French—he had preferred English
-words with foreign terminations up to that point. His speech could not
-have exceeded three minutes, but it left nothing to be desired. It
-contained a succinct statement of facts—what he had eaten, and how
-much each dish cost; what he was charged, and the exact difference between
-the debt and the demand; an appeal to the chef de gare to investigate the
-conduct of the buffet where such iniquities were perpetrated on guileless
-Englishmen; and lastly a fancy sketch of the garçon's life, with a
-selection of Parisian terms of abuse any two of which were enough to
-confer distinction for a lifetime. He concluded by offering three francs,
-forty-five cents, as his just due to the manager of the buffet, and his
-thanks to the audience for their courteous attention.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I am an Englishman by birth,” he explained to a delighted compartment,
-“but Parisian by education, and I think this incident may do good.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Certainly it has often done one man good, and goes excellently with
-another where imagination reinforces memory with happy effect. One had a
-presentiment something was going to happen when two devout ladies secured
-their places in the Paris express at Lourdes, and before they entered
-placed the tin vessel with water from the sacred well on the floor of the
-compartment. It was certainly unfortunate that they did not keep it in
-their arms till the precious treasure could be deposited in the rack.
-Lourdes pilgrims would recognize the vessel even in its state of temporary
-humiliation, but there was a distinct suggestion of humbler uses, and an
-excited Englishman must not be hardly judged.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Here you are, dear,” he shouts to his wife, guarding the rugs; “plenty of
-room, and a hot water pan for your feet.”
- </p>
-<p>
-They all got in together—two Parisian ladies, who (likely) could not
-speak a word of English, and our fellow patriot, who was (likely) as
-ignorant of French. And the tin vessel.
-</p>
-<p>
-Did they lift it with reverence and fold it in many wraps, and did he
-fight for its possession? Are they still describing the wanton impiety of
-this heretic? and has he a conclusive illustration of the incredible folly
-of our neighbours? Perhaps, after all, they knew each other's tongues, and
-then nothing happened; but surely there must have been circumstances, and
-I, with a spare moment at my disposal occasionally, refused to be robbed
-of that interior.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-X.—NILE VIEWS
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>F one has only three weeks' holiday, and desires sunshine for his body,
-let him spend the time upon the Riviera, where he will get a few degrees
-higher temperature and a little more sunshine than in Cornwall—with
-worse food and a more treacherous climate—and if he rather desires
-inspiration for his mind, let him go to Florence; but in any case let him
-understand that there is no place in Europe where one can get equal good
-both for mind and body, and no place where one can escape winter. Upon
-this matter doctors dream dreams and invalids fondly talk against facts,
-for the cold in Florence, say, in the month of February, is quite
-monumental for its piercing quality, and bad weather on the Riviera is
-more cheerless than a wet day in the West Highlands, since in the latter
-case you can get a decent fire during the day, and in the evening you may
-have a sunset to remember for life. If, however, through any conjunction
-of favourable circumstances, a man has six weeks at his disposal in winter
-time (it is not likely he will have this very often in the present vale of
-tears), then let him take his courage in both his hands, and go to the
-Nile. Suppose he had three months, and were a good sailor, then he ought
-to join a P. and O. liner at London, and go the long sea voyage, for there
-is a chance, even in December or January, that he might have summer
-weather on the fickle Mediterranean, and—such things have happened—across
-the Bay. But with half that, time his plan is to go by the special boat
-express to Marseilles, and join his steamer there for Port Said; or, if he
-be hopelessly in fear of the sea, and wishes to save every hour for Egypt,
-to take the Brindisi mail, and cross to Port Said by one of the two
-passenger torpedo boats which make the passage between Italy and Egypt in
-about forty-eight hours either over the sea or through it.
-</p>
-<p>
-Until it has been completely rebuilt after Western fashions, and electric
-trolley cars are running down a widened Mooskee, and the men have given up
-the tarboosh and the women their veil, Cairo will always fascinate a
-European by its Eastern atmosphere. Sitting on the verandah before his
-hotel, and looking over the heads of a herd of dragomen, guides, pedlars,
-and beggars, he will see a panorama pass. A Pasha's carriage, with a
-running footman in front, and the great man within, mourning the
-restraints of European government; a camel from the outlands laden with
-fresh green grass; a water-seller with his leather barrel upon his back; a
-company of Egyptian soldiers, marching admirably, and looking as if they
-could go anywhere; working women in dark blue, with only their eyes
-visible, which are said to be the single beautiful feature they possess; a
-closed carriage, with two ladies of a great man's harem; a miscellaneous
-crowd of sellers of many articles, shouting their goods, and workmen of
-many trades carrying things they have made; a Bedouin from the desert in
-his white flowing robes, tall and stately, and a Nubian as black as ebony
-from up country, with people of all shades between white and black, and in
-all colours; here and there a European tourist looking very much out of
-place in his unsightly garments, and a couple of Highland soldiers looking
-as if the whole place belonged to them. And if one desires to bathe in the
-life of the place, then he can spend a day drifting up and down the
-Mooskee, plunging down side alleys, attending native auctions, watching
-street dramas, bargaining in bazaars, and visiting mosques; but the wise
-man who is seeking for rest will not abide long in Cairo. Its air is close
-and not invigorating, its smells innumerable and overpowering, its social
-occupations wearisome and exacting, and its fleas larger, hungrier, more
-impudent, and more insinuating than those of any other place I have ever
-known. When the visitor has seen the citadel—and sunset from the
-citadel is worth the journey to Cairo—and half a dozen of the
-grander mosques, and the Pyramids and the great Museum of Egyptian
-Antiquities, then, although it may be difficult to resist the delightful
-hospitality of the English community, military and civil, the traveller
-had better start by the Nile for Upper Egypt.
-</p>
-<p>
-Nothing surely can be so restful as life on a Nile boat, where one lies at
-his ease upon the deck with some book like <i>Pyramids in Progress</i> in
-his hand, and watches the procession along the banks of men, women, and
-children, donkeys, camels, cattle, and occasionally horses, which goes on
-from Cairo to Assouan, and, so far as I know, to Khartoum, and looking
-into the far distances of the desert, across the strip of green on either
-side of the river, and listening to the friendly sound of the water wheels
-which distribute the Nile through the parched ground, and then standing to
-see the blood-red sunset fade into orange and green and violet, while the
-river turns into that delicate and indescribable colour which, for want of
-some other word, is known as water-of-Nile. The river itself takes hold of
-the imagination, whose origin has been a historical mystery, on whose rise
-and fall the welfare of a country depends, which carries the fertility of
-Egypt in its bosom, and on which nations depend for their very life. No
-wonder it runs as a blue streak through the frescoes in the tombs, and is
-never away from the thoughts of the painters, for the Nile runs also
-through the life of the people. It is the great highway up which the
-native boats sail their skilful course driven by the north wind, down
-which they drop laden with produce or pottery. It gives them the soil they
-till, which is rich enough to bear twelve harvests a year, if crops could
-be ripened in a month. Upon its banks the people sit as at their club;
-they bring down their cattle to water at it, they wash in the Nile, both
-themselves and their clothes, they swim and dive in the Nile as if they
-had been bom in it, and they drink its thick, brown, sweet water with such
-relish that a native Egyptian resents the idea of a filter because it
-takes away from him the very joy of taste, and laughs at the idea of
-danger from his loved Nile, which may give typhoid fever to Western
-tourists, but will never do any injury to its own children.
-</p>
-<p>
-After sugar cane and doora, the chief product of the steaming, prolific
-Nile valley is the Fellaheen, who are not the descendants of the ancient
-Egyptians, a lineage justly claimed by the Copts, but who are the Egyptian
-people of to-day. The Fellah is the absolute creature of his environment,
-an offspring of Nile mud, and when he is working on his field, in the
-garments nature gave him, can hardly be distinguished from the soil. He is
-brown, well-built, enduring, with perfect teeth and excellent health. His
-home is a mud hut, with one room where he and his family eat, and another
-where they sleep, and a courtyard inhabited by the livestock of goats,
-donkeys, cocks and hens, pigeons, and a dog. It is thatched with palm
-branches or doora straw, and on the roof the dog will promenade in the
-daytime with great dignity, and from the roof, when the moon is shining,
-and thoughts occur to his mind, he will express himself to the other
-seventy-six dogs of the village who are on their roofs, and are also moved
-to speech, with the result that no European can sleep in the vicinity. Add
-a few vessels and mats by way of furniture to the inside of the hut, and
-build a mud jar on the top of the courtyard wall where the baby of the
-family can be put in safety, and the household equipment of the Fellah is
-complete. He is very ignorant, is not very keen about his religion, has no
-principles, except a habit of industry and a keen sense of property, and
-he has not one comfort or luxury of civilization, and not one political or
-national ambition. But he has all the clothes he needs, which certainly is
-not very much; he has plenty to eat, and for drink the endlessly
-delightful Nile water; he is very seldom cold, and he has sunshine from
-January to December, and from morning to night. Thanks to England, he is
-no longer dragged away to work upon canals and public enterprises without
-wages and without food, and to perish through toil and disease as his
-father did, but is now paid and cared for when working for the community.
-He is no longer in terror of the lash, and he is not robbed by his rulers;
-he gets justice at the courts, and is now being delivered from the hands
-of the money-lender, that terror of the East, by the excellent national
-bank which has been recently established, and which advances him money on
-reasonable terms. We pity him as we pass, toiling at his shadoof, or
-coming like a rabbit out of his burrow, because he works so hard and lives
-so plainly, and has no books and no vote, and no glass in his windows, and
-no cheap trips. But perhaps we had better reserve our pity for the home
-land. One does not see in the Arab village the ignoble squalor of a town
-slum, nor the dreary, hopeless poverty, nor the evil look of degraded
-people, nor the miserable intemperance. The Fellah does not stand very
-high in the evolution of society, and neither his wife nor his child is
-particularly fortunate; one would not wish to be a Fellah, but, at any
-rate, he does not know the pinch of want, he is on good terms with
-everybody, he has a ready joke, which perhaps it is better you do not
-understand, and a quick smile; he is a well-fed and contented animal.
-</p>
-<p>
-The Fellah can be studied near at hand in your donkey boy, who is simply a
-Nile peasant quickened by contact with Europeans. Within five minutes he
-sizes you up with unerring judgment, and knows whether he can get
-baksheesh from you by annoyance, or will fare better by leaving you in
-peace; whether he can do as he pleases with you in the matter of speed, or
-whether it will be better to do as you tell him. Once you are on good
-terms with him—have learned the name of the donkey, approved the
-donkey's excellence and his own, and settled whether you are going to race
-or not—he settles down to make the journey agreeable both for
-himself and you. He will make jests about every little incident, join in
-the chorus of English songs, give information, such as he can, on
-antiquities, and delight to teach you Arabic. Suppose you have a long wait
-somewhere, and time is dragging, two of the junior donkey boys will
-improvise a play. They will get up a fight, and after cuffing one another
-in a way that would almost deceive you into the belief that they were
-serious, one will knock the other down, and the fallen hero will look as
-dead as Rames es the Great. A crowd will gather round him, lifting a leg
-or an arm, which falls heavily to the ground, raising his head, which
-rolls helplessly to the side. Horrified, they will then look at one
-another, and shake their heads; they will cover the dead man's face, and
-proceed to carry him home. By-and-by they will have a funeral, and convey
-the corpse to the cemetery with wailing and weeping, and after it has been
-solemnly laid to rest there will be a rapid and delightful resurrection.
-The mourners will turn a set of somersaults with extraordinary rapidity,
-the murderer and his victim will give a gymnastic exhibition, and then the
-whole company, having raised an enthusiastic hip, hip, hurrah! in applause
-for their own drama and as a genial tribute to the Anglo-Saxon race, will
-stand opposite you in a body with the most solemn countenance and demand
-baksheesh.
-</p>
-<p>
-Like other folk, the donkey boys have their own trials, and I am still
-sorry for Hassan, who attended me for four days at Luxor, and with whom I
-became very friendly. His donkey was called Telephone, and was very
-strong, handsome, and well caparisoned, and had, indeed, only one vice,
-and that was that he would not go slowly, although the thermometer stood
-at 130 degrees in the sun, but insisted on leading the procession. Hassan
-had just married, and was never weary of describing the beauty and
-goodness of his sixteen-year-old bride, and he was greatly lifted when I
-sent home to her by his own hand a present of a silk headdress—I
-think at least that was what the silk would be used for—such as I
-was assured by a native friend the young women of that ilk greatly loved.
-Hassan parted with me in high spirits when I went up the river, and I
-promised that, on my third visit to Egypt, which will likely never take
-place, I would ride no other donkey but “Telephone,” and have no other
-footman but Hassan. And then tidings reached me at Assouan that the poor
-bridegroom had been drawn for the army. For thirteen years he would have
-to serve, partly in the regular forces, partly in the police, and for half
-the time he would be entirely separated from his wife, and perhaps for it
-all, and at the thought thereof and the terror of the army, and the
-unknown places and duties before him, there was great lamentation in
-Hassan's little home. So Hassan is by this time being drilled at Cairo,
-and soon will be a smart soldier in the Egyptian army; but up at Luxor his
-young wife will be mourning for him, and, alas! for an Eastern woman, she
-will be aged before Hassan returns. This is the shadow which hangs over
-the life of a Fellah.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XI.—THE RESTLESS AMERICAN
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>ANY Americans were good enough to call upon me before I had the pleasure
-of visiting their country, and many Americans have called since, and no
-American ever does me this honour without charging the very atmosphere of
-my study with oxygen, and leaving an impression of activity which quickens
-my slow pulses and almost reduces me to despair.
-</p>
-<p>
-It is now several years ago that a tall, thin, alert man followed his card
-into my study with such rapidity that I had barely time to read it before
-my visitor was in the room.
-</p>
-<p>
-“My name is Elijah K. Higgins, and I am a busy man. You are also busy and
-have no time to fool away. Four days is all I can give to the United
-Kingdom, and I wished to shake hands with you. Good-bye, I am off to
-Drumtochty.”
- </p>
-<p>
-I calculate that Mr. Higgins spent thirty seconds in my study, and left
-the room so swiftly that I overtook him only at the front door. When I
-asked him if he knew where Drumtochty was, “Guess I do!” he said. “Got the
-route in my pocket, north-west from Perth, N.B.,” and in two seconds more
-he was whirling away in a fast hansom. As I returned to my study and
-imagined my visitor compassing Great Britain (I think he excluded Ireland,
-but I am not certain) in four days, I was for a moment roused from the
-state of comparative lethargy which we, in England, call work, and added
-six more engagements to my afternoon's programme. For days afterwards, and
-as often as I was tempted to rest in my chair, the remembrance of that
-whirlwind gave me a shock of new vigour. Sometimes a reaction would
-follow, and I humbly thanked Providence, although that was to write myself
-a weakling and a sluggard, that I was not bom in the country where Mr.
-Higgins lived and was at home.
-</p>
-<p>
-Such lively experiences, which I often recall in jaded moments, prepare
-one for a visit or a re-visit to America, as a tonic gives a sluggish
-person an appetite for dinner, and it is bare justice to say that one's
-expectations of American energy in its own home have not been
-disappointed. If Americans, depressed by our heavy climate and our
-leisurely life, could yet maintain such a level of thought and motion,
-what might not be possible to them in their own country, where the
-atmosphere is charged with electricity, and every second man is a “hustler
-from way-back.” The stir of the New World affects the visitor and quickens
-his pulses as he goes up the Hudson and gets his first glimpse of New
-York. Your steamer had waited four hours at Queenstown for the mails, but
-the same mails were transferred to the United States tender as the steamer
-steams up the bay. Little tugs dart about on all sides with feverish
-speed, and larger steamers pass with their upper machinery indecently
-exposed, as if there had not been time, or it had not been worth while, to
-cover it. Buildings of incredible height line the shores, and suggest that
-the American nation, besides utilizing the ground, proposes also to employ
-the heavens for commercial purposes. It was, I think, a Texas paper which
-translated the austere saying, “<i>Per aspera ad astra</i>,” into “the
-hustler gets to heaven,” and certain New York builders seem now to be on
-the way. Whetted by this overture on the river, one is ready for the full
-music of the city; and I wish to pay the compliment with all honesty that
-New York, with the possible exception of Chicago, is the activest and
-noisiest place I have ever seen, or expect to see, in this present world.
-While an English merchant saunters down to his office between nine and
-ten, a New York man rises at half-past six in his suburb and is busy at
-work at eight o'clock. The Englishman takes off an hour during the day for
-luncheon at his club, while the American eats his meal in fifteen minutes.
-The Englishman spends more than another hour at afternoon tea, and gossip
-with friends, and sauntering about between his club and his office, while
-the American packs every minute with work. The very walk of an English
-merchant, slow, dignified, self-satisfied, and that of the American,
-rapid, eager, anxious—the one looking as if time were of no
-importance nor circumstances, and the other as if the loss of a minute
-might mean ruin—are the visible indices to the character of the
-nations. It is only yesterday that elevators were introduced into English
-city buildings, and there are many London offices to which you still have
-to make an Alpine ascent of four stairs; but a New Yorker regards a stair
-as a survival of barbarism, and hardly knows how to use it. The higher
-buildings have several sets of elevators, like the four tracks which
-railways lay down to work the swift and slow traffic.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Don't go in there,” my friend said, with whom I was going to lunch at a
-club on the top floor of a many-storied New York building. “That's an
-accommodation elevator; stops, you know, at every station. This is the
-express for the top floor.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Would it have made much difference?” I said.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Very nearly a minute,” as if the loss of the minute would have thrown us
-back for the rest of the day.
-</p>
-<p>
-No man goes slow if he has the chance of going fast, no man stops to talk
-if he can talk walking, no man walks if he can ride in a trolley car, no
-one goes in a trolley car if he can get a convenient railway, and
-by-and-by no one will go by railway car if he can be shot through a
-pneumatic tube. No one writes with his own hand if he can dictate to a
-stenographer, no one dictates if he can telegraph, no one telegraphs if he
-can telephone, and by-and-by, when the spirit of American invention has
-brought wireless telegraphy into thorough condition, a man will simply sit
-with his mouth at one hole and his ear at another, and do business with
-the ends of the earth in a few seconds, which the same machine will copy
-and preserve in letter books and ledgers. It is the American's regret that
-at present he can do nothing with his feet while he is listening at the
-telephone, but doubtless some employment will be found for them in the
-coming age.
-</p>
-<p>
-If a slow-witted and slow-moving Englishman desires a liberal education,
-let him take a journey of a month on the steam cars in the United States.
-No train in Europe travels as fast as certain American expresses, and if
-other trains go slower it is a matter of thankfulness, because they are
-less likely to kill passengers on level crossings, or in the main streets
-of the city along which they take their way, and cattle have more time to
-get off the unprotected tracks. As trains have also a trick of jumping the
-rails, either through the rails spreading or the eccentricity of the
-engine, both being instances of exuberant national vitality, it is just as
-well that every express does not go at the rate of the Empire State
-Express on the New York Central. Nowhere in Europe can a traveller find
-stronger or handsomer cars, and they are marvels of adaptability and
-convenience. There is a dining car, in order that you may not lose time at
-a station, and also, which is not unimportant, in order that you may be
-able to occupy your time with something practical on the train. Of course,
-there is a smoking compartment, where men can compare notes upon politics
-and business, and be able to escape from idleness and themselves. The best
-expresses have a reading car, where the American can pick up such morsels
-of information from the magazines as he can contain between the
-interstices of business. There is a desk where he can read his letters,
-and a typewriter to answer them, for this train is the American's
-sleep-ing-place and dining-place, and his home and his office. One thing
-only he regrets; the train, as it flies along, is not connected with the
-telegraph and the telephone, so that, as an idea occurs to him or he
-obtains a hint from a man in the smoking car, he might be able to do
-business with his correspondents in Chicago or San Francisco. While an
-Englishman on a railway journey is generally dressed in roughly and
-loosely fitting tweeds, suggestive of a country life and of sport, the
-coat of his American cousin is of dark material and has not a superfluous
-inch of cloth. From his collar to his neat little boot the American is
-prim, spick-and-span, and looks as if he had come out of a band-box and
-were ready to appear in the principal room of any office. He is dressed in
-fact for business, and looks like business from the crown of his head to
-the sole of his feet, while an Englishman's appearance suggests that he is
-going to see a cricket match or that he has retired to live upon a farm.
-</p>
-<p>
-My countryman arrives at the station with two and a half minutes to spare,
-and laden with small baggage. A porter carries his rug and an ulster, very
-likely also a hat-box and a bag with books, papers, and such like in it,
-to say nothing of an umbrella and a mackintosh, and he secures his seat at
-the last moment. He fastens his hat above his head, puts on a travelling
-cap, changes into an ulster, if it be winter time, and throws a rug over
-his knee; he puts on travelling gloves, and gets out the Times, and he
-will sit without budging and read his <i>Times</i> without intermission
-for fifty minutes. Besides these trifles with him in the carriage, he has
-a portmanteau in the van, which he hopes has been addressed, and which the
-porter promised to see put in, and he will scramble for it at his terminus
-along with a hundred other passengers, who are all trying to identify and
-extricate their luggage from a huge heap on the platform.
-</p>
-<p>
-The American reaches the dépôt by a trolley car ten minutes at least
-before the hour of departure, having sent his heavy luggage, if he has any—which
-is not likely—by baggage express. His only personal equipment is a
-slim and compact valise, which, in regard to opening and shutting, is a
-marvel of convenience. This he carries in his hand, and places beneath or
-beside the seat which he has secured two days before. He does not carry a
-rug because the cars are heated, nor an umbrella because it is not the
-rainy season. His top coat he hangs up beside his seat, as if he were in
-his own house; and his hat if he so please. He does not wear a
-travelling-cap any more than in his own drawing-room, nor gloves in the
-train any more than in his own office. Should his hands be soiled, he goes
-to the lavatory where there are large basins and an ample supply of water,
-and if his coat be dusty, there is a negro porter in every car to brush
-it. The immense repose of the English traveller is quite impossible for
-this mercurial man, whose blood and whose brain are ever on a stir. Very
-rarely will you see him reading a book, because he is not accustomed to
-read, and the demands of a book would lessen his time for business
-meditation. Boys with newspapers circulate through the cars, and he buys
-each new paper as it appears at the different towns. Whether it be
-Republican, or Democratic, or a family paper or a yellow journal, does not
-matter to him; he glances at the startling headings, takes an accident or
-a political scandal at a mouthful, skims over the business news, sees
-whether anything has happened at the Philippines, notes that the canard of
-the morning has been contradicted in the afternoon, and flings paper after
-paper on the floor. Three minutes or, in cases of extreme interest, five
-minutes suffice for each paper, and by-and-by this omnivorous reader, who
-consumes a paper even more quickly than his food, is knee deep in printed
-information or sensation. For two minutes he is almost quiet, and seems to
-be digesting some piece of commercial information. He then rises
-hurriedly, as if he had been called on the telephone, and makes for the
-smoking-car, where he will discuss “Expansion” with vivid, picturesque
-speech, and get through a cigar with incredible celerity. Within fifteen
-minutes he is in his place again; and, a little afterwards, wearying of
-idleness, he is chewing the end of a cigar, which is a substitute for
-smoking and saves him from being wearied with his own company. Half an
-hour before the train is due at his station, he is being brushed, and
-getting ready to alight. Before the train has reached the outskirts of the
-town, he has secured his place in a procession which stands in single file
-in the narrow exit passage from the Pullman. Each man is ready dressed for
-business and has his valise in his hand; he is counting the minutes before
-he can alight, and is envying the man at the head of the procession, who
-will have a start of about two seconds. This will give him a great
-advantage in business, and he may never be overtaken by his competitors
-till evening.
-</p>
-<p>
-Suppose he lands at 6 a.m., he will find breakfast ready in a hotel, and
-half a dozen men eating as if their lives depended upon finishing by 6.15
-a.m. Before seven he will have disposed of a pile of letters, dictating
-answers to a typist attached to the hotel, he will have telegraphed in all
-directions, and made half a dozen appointments in the town by telephone.
-Within the forenoon he will finish his business and depart for some
-neighbouring town, lunching on the cars. The second town he will dispose
-of in the afternoon, and that evening go on board the sleeper to travel
-400 miles to a third town, where he is going to negotiate a contract at 8
-o'clock next morning. If you sympathize with him, and wonder how flesh and
-blood can stand the speed, he accepts your sympathy as a compliment, and
-assures you that he never sleeps so well as on the cars. He never seems to
-be out of sorts or out of temper: he is always thoroughly alive and quite
-good-natured. Sometimes he may seem for a moment annoyed, when he cannot
-telegraph as often as he wants along the line, or when the train is not on
-time, that he may make a connection. Nothing would wound him so deeply as
-to “get left,” and he can only affect to be unconscious when some one
-declares that he is “no slouch, and that there are no flies on him.” If he
-is obliged to spend two hours doing nothing in a hotel, when business is
-over, then he rocks himself and smokes, and it is a wonderful spectacle
-for an indolent Englishman to look down from the gallery that commands the
-hall of the hotel, and to see fifty able-bodied fellow-men who have worked
-already twelve hours, at least, and put eighteen hours' work into the
-time, all in motion. (One wonders why this motion is not utilized to drive
-something.) He discovers how unlike cousins may be, for an Englishman
-never moves unless he is obliged to or unless he wants to shoot something,
-and these remarkable men never rest unless when they are asleep. About
-that even, I am not sure, and I was often tempted to draw aside the
-curtain from a berth in a sleeping-car, and, had I done so, I should not
-have been at all surprised to find our friend wide awake with a cold cigar
-in his cheek, and rocking his knees for want of more extensive
-accommodation. He has always rebelled against the ancient custom of sleep,
-which he regards as a loss of time and an anachronism. All that he can do
-is to spend the night in a sleeping car, which, as he will tell you,
-annihilates time and space.
-</p>
-<p>
-Foreigners travelling in the States in their innocence are amazed that a
-delicate-minded nation, like the Americans, should be willing to sleep
-after the fashion of the Pullman cars, and should not insist upon the
-Continental cabin-car. The reason for the Arcadian simplicity of the
-sections is not really economy, for no American would ever think twice of
-spending a dollar; it is simply their abounding and dominant energy. If
-you sleep in cabins at night, you must sit in cabins by day; and this
-would mean a seclusion and repose which are very distasteful to the
-high-strung American temperament. It would be like bottling up a volatile
-gas; and one imagines that it might lead to an explosion, which some day
-would break down the partitions and break up the car from end to end. The
-American must see everything in his car and hear everything, for which he
-depends upon the peculiar quality of the local voice; and he must be at
-liberty to prowl about his car, and to sit with his friends here and
-there. The car is his little world for the time, and he is not going to
-live in a backwater.
-</p>
-<p>
-There seems no doubt that an American workman will do from twenty-five to
-thirty-three per cent, more than an Englishman in the same time, and that
-the higher wages of the American have their compensation for the
-capitalist in a workman's quickness of mind and sleight of hand.
-Everything goes at an accelerated speed, with wonderful inventions in
-labour-saving machinery and devices to economize time. If the great end of
-a nation be to do as much as possible in as short a time as possible, then
-the American climate has been practically arranged for that end. An
-Englishwoman living in the States becomes effervescent, and the native
-American is the brightest woman on the face of the earth. While the
-English atmosphere is heavy and soothing, and lends itself to thought and
-quietness, the American climate is exciting and exhilarating, and quickens
-both mind and body to the highest activity. It is an electric climate, and
-the electricity has passed into the people, who are simply vessels charged
-up to a certain number of volts. These vessels as sources of motive power
-can then be attached to pulpits, or offices, or workshops or politics. Of
-course, a day is apt to come when the vessels will have been completely
-discharged, and it arrives very frequently without warning. A little
-confusion in the head, and a slight numbness in the limbs, and the man has
-to go away a year to Colorado Springs or to Los Angeles. If he is
-fortunate, he can be recharged and run for another five or ten years; then
-nature does not give any warning, but simply stops the heart or darkens
-the brain, and you must get another man.
-</p>
-<p>
-No one, unless he leaves the country or becomes a crank, can escape from
-this despotism of activity; he is part of the regiment and must march with
-his fellows. The idea of making a competency and then retiring, say, into
-the country, never crosses a man's mind. When you urge economy upon a man
-for this end, you have injured your case, and are pleading on the other
-side. With such a prospect before him, he is more than ever resolved to be
-a spendthrift. To seclude an active American in an old-fashioned country
-house, with ivy climbing round its Tudor windows, even although there
-should be a library of black oak inside and a rose garden outside, would
-be cruelty; it would be to imprison a squirrel in a golden cage. What
-greatly impresses the traveller in the United States is that the rich men
-work as hard and as long as the poor, and that they cannot even give
-attention to the affairs of their country, but are willing to leave them
-to the very doubtful management of the “Boss,” because it would not pay
-them to leave their business and go into politics. If the end of life be
-riches, then the clever American is a successful man, for in no country
-does a respectable man become so very rich, or rich so soon, and if not
-respectable he still may do fairly well. You cannot have everything,
-however, and one notes that the average rich man has paid a price for his
-dollars. He has read very little—his wife reads for him; he has
-travelled very little—his daughters travel for him. He has no voice
-in the State—professional politicians speak for him; he has no
-amusements, unless you include speculation; and he has no pleasant periods
-of rest, unless you accept as an equivalent comparatively early and sudden
-death, which often arises from acute indigestion. He has not time to stop
-and realize himself, unless, but this is a large exception, when he has
-dyspepsia. One reason, perhaps, why Americans do not rest is that given to
-me by a bright woman: “We are all so tired,” and the American is the
-victim of his own qualities.
-</p>
-<p>
-One, of course, acknowledges the advantages of this amazing energy, and
-there are times when a stolid Englishman grows envious. A university in
-America is created in ten years and endowed to the extent of millions
-sterling, and equipped with chairs of which a European never dreamt, and
-laboratories which border upon palaces. Libraries and picture galleries
-are rising in every city, for which the treasuries of Europe have been
-ransacked; and, were it not for the restriction of governments, the Old
-Masters would have to be sought, not in Italy and England, but in New York
-and Chicago. New towns are designed upon a scale of magnificence, as if
-each were to be the capital of an empire, and are at least outlined in
-building within a few years. Should it be necessary, an army can be
-created within a few months, and in a couple of years a new trade can be
-established which will kill its European rivals. An English farmer with
-fifteen hundred acres is a considerable man, but an American can have
-fifteen thousand acres and his different farm buildings will be connected
-by telephone. A self-made man in England marries his daughter to a baronet
-and is much lifted; but the daughter of a self-made man in America will
-marry an English duke, and consider she has conferred a benefit. When you
-go to a Western town, you may be taken to see a university; if not, you
-are taken to a dry-goods store; each, in its own way, is the largest of
-its kind. Certainly, there are stores in America which have no rival in
-the Old World, and which you are expected to visit with the same
-appreciation as the Duomo of Florence.
-</p>
-<p>
-There is almost nothing that the United States does not possess, except
-political purity, and nothing which an American cannot do, except rest;
-and in the conflict with foreign competition, he has almost discounted
-victory. Whether he be able, that is, patient and thorough in the
-discovery of principles, may be a question; that he is clever, by which
-one means bright and ingenious in turning principles to account, is beyond
-all question. If America has not yet had time to produce a Lord Kelvin, it
-has given us telephones; and if Professor Dewar has astonished the world
-with his liquid air, an American trust is, it is said, being formed to
-handle it for commercial purposes. If we are thought to be dull and slow,
-as we travel among the most stimulating and hospitable people on the face
-of the earth, let some excuse be made for us and let our hosts share the
-blame. An Englishman in the United States is half dazed, like one moving
-amid the ceaseless din and whirling wheels of a huge manufactory, where
-the voice has to be raised to a shriek, and a sentence compressed into a
-single word. He goes home greatly humbled in his estimation of himself,
-and in low spirits about the commercial future of his country. He has no
-bitterness, however, within his heart, for are not these people of his own
-blood, and are not their triumphs his, even if they threaten to outrun his
-own nation in the race of productive commerce? And when he comes back to
-England, has he not his compensations, Stratford-on-Avon, and Westminster
-Abbey, and the greenery of the Home Counties, and the lights and shadows
-of the Scots Lochs, and the musical voices of the English women, and the
-quiet, contented, cultured English homes?
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XII.—A SCOT INDEED
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>E had demanded that afternoon to be told the truth, and the doctor,
-himself a young Scot, had told him plainly that he could not recover, and
-then he had asked, as one man speaking to another, both being brave and
-honest men, when he would die, and the doctor thought early next morning.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Aboot daybreak,” said the Scot, with much satisfaction, as if, on the
-whole, he were content to die, and much pleased it would be at the rising
-of the sun. He was a characteristic type of his nation, rugged in face and
-dry of manner, an old man, who had drifted somehow to this English city
-and was living there alone, and now he was about to die alone, without
-friends and in a strange land. The nurse was very kind to him, and her
-heart went out to the quiet, self-contained man. She asked him whether he
-would like to see a clergyman, and explained that the chaplain of the
-infirmary was a good man.
-</p>
-<p>
-“A've nae doubt he is,” said the Scot, “and that his meenistrations would
-be verra acceptable to English fouk, but a've never had ony dealin's wi'
-Episcopalians. He micht want to read a prayer, and I couldna abide that,
-and mebbe I couldna follow the texts in his English tongue.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The nurse still lingered by his bed. He looked up to her and assured her
-he was in no need of consolation. “Saxty year ago my mither made me learn
-the wale (choice portions) o' the Bible, and they're cornin' up ane by ane
-to my memory, but I thank ye kindly.”
- </p>
-<p>
-As the nurse went back and forward on her duties she heard her patient
-saying at intervals to himself, “I know whom I have believed.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I am persuaded that neither life nor death.” Once again she heard him,
-“Although the mountains depart and the hills be removed,” but the rest she
-did not catch.
-</p>
-<p>
-During the afternoon a lady came into the ward whose service to the Lord
-was the visitation of the sick, a woman after the type of Barnabas and
-Mary of Bethany. When she heard of the old man's illness and his
-loneliness, whom no friend came to see or comfort, she went to his
-bedside. “You are very ill,” she said, “my friend.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“A'm deein',” he replied, with the exactness of his nation, which somewhat
-fails to understand the use of graceful circumlocution and gentle phrases.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Is there anything I can do for you? Would you wish me to sing a few
-verses of a hymn? Some sick people feel much comforted and soothed by
-singing; you would like, I think, to hear 'Rock of Ages,'” and she sat
-down by his bedside and opened her book, while a patient beyond, who had
-caught what she said, raised his head to enjoy the singing.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Ye're verra kind, mem, and a'm muckle obleeged to ye, but a'm a Scot and
-ye're English, and ye dinna understand. A' my days have I been protestin'
-against the use o' human hymns in the praise o' God; a've left three kirks
-on that account, and raised my testimony in public places, and noo would
-ye send me into eternity wi' the sough of a hymn in my ears?”
- </p>
-<p>
-For a moment the visitor had no reply, for in the course of all her
-experiences, during which she had come across many kinds of men and women,
-she had never yet chanced upon this kind of Scot. The patients in the
-infirmary were not distinguished by their religious scruples, and if they
-had scruples of such a kind they turned on large and full-blooded
-distinctions between Protestant and Catholic, and never entered into
-subtleties of doctrine.
-</p>
-<p>
-“You'll excuse me, mem, for a'm no ungratefu',” he continued, “and I would
-like to meet yir wishes when ye've been so kind to me. The doctor says I
-canna live long, and it's possible that my strength may sune give way, but
-a'll tell ye what a'm willin' to do.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The visitor waited anxiously to know what service he was going to render
-her and what comfort she might offer to him, but both were beyond her
-guessing.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Sae lang as a've got strength and my reason continues clear, a'm prepared
-to argue with you concerning the lawfulness of using onything except the
-Psalms of David in the praise of God either in public or in private.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Dear old Scot, the heir of many a covenanting tradition and the worthy son
-of covenanting martyrs, it was a strange subject of discussion for a man's
-last hour, but the man who could be true to the jots and tittles of his
-faith in pain of body and in face of death was the stuff out of which
-heroes and saints are made. He belonged to a nation who might sometimes be
-narrow and over-concerned with scruples, but which knew that a stand must
-be taken somewhere, and where it took a stand was prepared to die.
-</p>
-<p>
-The visitor was a wise as well as gracious woman, and grasped the heart of
-the situation. “No, no,” she said, “we will not speak about the things
-wherein we differ, and I did not know the feeling of the Scots about the
-singing of the hymns. But I can understand how you love the Psalms and how
-dear to you is your metrical version. Do you know I have been in the
-Highlands of Scotland and have heard the Psalms sung, and the tears came
-into my eyes at the sound of the grave, sweet melody, for it was the music
-of a strong and pious people.”
- </p>
-<p>
-As she spoke the hard old Scot's face began to soften, and one hand which
-was lying outside the bedclothes repeated the time of a Scots Psalm tune.
-He was again in the country church of his boyhood, and saw his father and
-mother going into the table seats, and heard them singing:
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“O thou, my soul, bless God the Lord,
-And all that in me is
-Be stirred up His holy name
-To magnify and bless.”
- </pre>
-<p>
-“More than that, I know some of your psalm tunes, and I have the words in
-my hymn book; perhaps I have one of the Psalms which you would like to
-hear.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Div ye think that ye could sing the Twenty-third Psalm—
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-'The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want'?
-</pre>
-<p>
-for I would count it verra comfortin'.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Yes,” she said, “I can, and it will please me very much to sing it, for I
-think I love that psalm more than any hymn.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It never runs dry,” murmured the Scot.
-</p>
-<p>
-So she sang it from beginning to end in a low, sweet voice, slowly and
-reverently, as she had heard it sung in Scotland. He joined in no word,
-but ever he kept time with his hand and with his heart, while his eyes
-looked into the things which were far away.
-</p>
-<p>
-After she ceased he repeated to himself the last two lines:
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“And in God's house for evermore
-My dwelling place shall be.”
- </pre>
-<p>
-“Thank ye, thank ye,” he said, after a little pause, and then both were
-silent for a few minutes, because she saw that he was in his own country,
-and did not wish to bring him back by her foreign accent.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Mem, ye've dune me the greatest kindness ony Christian could do for
-anither as he stands on the banks of the Jordan.”
- </p>
-<p>
-For a minute he was silent again, and then he said: “A'm gaein' to tell ye
-somethin', and I think ye'll understand. My wife and me wes married
-thirty-five years, and ilka nicht of oor married life we sang a psalm
-afore we gaed to rest. She took the air and I took the bass, and we sang
-the Psalms through frae beginning to end twal times. She was taken frae me
-ten year ago, and the nicht afore she dee'd we sang the Twenty-third
-Psalm. A've never sung the psalm since, and I didna join wi' ye when ye
-sang it, for a'm waitin' to sing it wi' her new in oor Father's hoose the
-momin's momin', where there'll be nae nicht nor partin' evermore.”
- </p>
-<p>
-And this is how one Englishwoman found out that the Scot is at once the
-dourest and the tenderest of men.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XIII.—HIS CROWNING DAY
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>E will leave the main road which runs through the Glen between oak trees
-which were planted fifty years ago, but are only now beginning to join
-their branches, and take our way up the hillside till we come to the
-purple sea of heather whose billows rise and fall, broken only here and
-there by an oasis of green or a running burm. Our goal is this little
-cottage which is so low that its roof merges into the hill behind, and
-upon whose thatch the wild flowers have encroached. Stoop, if you please,
-for it is not wise to have high doorways where the winter storm beats so
-fiercely, and being respectable people, we shall be taken into the inner
-room, where strangers of high degree are received and the treasures of the
-family are kept. It will not take long to give an inventory of the
-furniture, and the value will not run to two figures. A box bed, a small
-table, four ancient chairs, what they called a chest of drawers, and on
-the mantelpiece some peacocks' feathers by way of decoration, and certain
-china ornaments representing animals which never have been seen in this
-creation, and are never likely to emerge in any process of evolution. Were
-this all, I should not have troubled you to climb so far, or to leave even
-for five minutes the glory of the open moor. There is something else in
-the lowly room which you might well take a journey to see, for it is a
-rare sight in shepherds' cottages. Here is a bookshelf, and on it, I
-declare, some dozen volumes bound in full calf, and bearing on one side
-the arms of a University. You must revise your judgment of this house, and
-find another measure than the height of the walls and the cubic space in
-the rooms. It matters not although a house have thirty chambers, with
-lofty ceilings and soft carpets and carved furniture; if there be no books
-which belong to literature within its walls it is a poor and narrow home,
-and the souls therein are apt to be mean and earthly.
-</p>
-<p>
-While you are looking at the books the shepherd's wife is looking at you.
-From the moment you crossed the threshold she has been thinking of that
-bookshelf, and hoping you would take notice thereof, but not for the world
-would she have mentioned it by word or sign. We had our own code of
-manners in the Glen, and one of our cardinal sins was “blowing,” by which
-we meant boasting; and while a man though perhaps not a woman, could be
-forgiven for “tasting,” there was no mercy shown to the person who allowed
-himself to brag. When, for instance, old David Ross's son became a
-professor, his father and mother simply allowed the glorious fact to ooze
-out through Domsie, who certainly had no scruple in making the most of it,
-and neither the father nor mother ever said Professor in public, although
-we believe they called their son nothing else between themselves; but the
-Glen made up for their reticence by decorating every second sentence about
-him with the word. All the same, Mistress McPherson is watching us keenly,
-and she would be utterly disappointed if we had overlooked the shelf; and
-now, in answer to our inquiry, she will take us into the kitchen and place
-us by the fireside, that we may hear the story of her scholar son, which,
-indeed, is the one romance in the history of this humble family.
-</p>
-<p>
-One morning John left the cottage to go to school, a shepherd's boy, and
-likely, as it appeared, to herd sheep and live in the Glen all the days of
-his life as his father had done before him. In the evening the
-schoolmaster, who is the judge of letters in the Glen, with the minister
-as a court of confirmation, came up and told the father and mother that in
-the purposes of the Eternal their son was evidently destined to be a
-scholar, and that upon them lay the duty of seeing that John made his
-calling and election sure. Had tidings come to those two people, whose
-wage in money would not amount to ten shillings a week, that they were
-heirs to a fortune, it would not have brought such pleasure to their souls
-as the good hope that their lowly stock would once at least in a
-generation produce the white flower of a scholar's life. The whole family,
-father and mother, with their grown-up sons and daughters in service, will
-now unite in one labour—to save and to sacrifice, that by hook or
-crook their brother may reach a university, and be sustained in his study
-there till he has reached its reward. Four years from that evening, had
-you been standing under the great arch by which students enter the
-quadrangle of Edinburgh University, you had seen the shepherd's son pass
-in, plainly dressed and shy in manner, but strong of body and brave in
-soul, and charged with all the knowledge that his schoolmaster and his
-minister could impart by patient, ungrudging labour. The lad before him is
-a noble's son, and the one following is a merchant's, and so sons of the
-rich and of the poor, of the high and of the low, they go together, into
-the one Republic on the face of the earth, the Republic of Letters, where
-money does not count, nor rank, nor influence, nor intrigue, but where
-every man stands equal and the best man wins.
-</p>
-<p>
-Another four years and John has obtained his degree, a double first, and
-he writes to the cottage on the side of the hill that the two old people
-must come up to see him crowned. For six weeks before the day his mother
-has just one consuming anxiety, and that is what she should wear on the
-occasion, and it is only after fifteen long deliberations with her gossips
-in the Glen that the great affair is settled, while the father's mind is
-wholly taken up on Sundays with the effort to look as if he were not the
-father of a graduate.
-</p>
-<p>
-When the shepherd and his wife enter the gates of the University, they are
-not to be thought of as two illiterate peasants who cannot distinguish
-between a University and a dry-goods store. Although they had never
-themselves expected to see so high a place, and had only cherished it as a
-secret hope that perhaps one of their boys might attain so far, they have
-learned by the tradition of their nation, and by the speech of Domsie in
-the kirk-yard on Sabbath, to enter into the greatness of a university. It
-is to them the home of the highest knowledge, and a sacred place to which
-reverend people might well go up as a pious Moslem to Mecca or a Jew to
-Jerusalem. As they cross the quadrangle, the shepherd touches his wife,
-and points to an elderly gentleman in the distance. They follow him with
-respectful attention as he shambles along, half a dozen books under his
-arm, his shabby cloak held by a single button, a hat as old as Jamie
-Soutar's resting on the back of his head.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Keep's a', Jeems,” whispers Janet respectfully “Div ye really think that
-he's a professor?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“We canna be sure, woman; he micht juist be a scholar, but I am judgin'
-that he's a professor—he hes a' the appearance.”
- </p>
-<p>
-And the two old people stand still in the bit till he disappears, and then
-they go on their way much lifted. Outside religion there is no word in
-Scots speech so sacred as “professor.” It means a semi-heavenly body
-charged with Latin and Greek philosophy and mathematics. It was something
-to see such a man, and to be in his company was living in an atmosphere
-where you might catch the infection of his learning. When a glensman, to
-whom Domsie had spoken of professors with bated breath for more than a
-generation, learned that in southern parts the title was assumed by
-hairdressers and ventriloquists, and that they were not sent to gaol for
-profanity, then Drumtochty discovered another argument for its favourite
-doctrine of original sin.
-</p>
-<p>
-As the two go down the half-lit passage to the hall of graduation, they
-are met by a majestic figure—a young man in evening dress, and over
-it the gown of an M.A., with its white silk hood, and on his head the
-Master's cap.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Are you coming, may I ask,” said he, with quite a nice English accent, to
-the graduation ceremony, “and can I be of any service?”
- </p>
-<p>
-“We are, sir; and as we are strangers frae the country, we would be muckle
-obleeged if ye could shew us the door. We dinna want to go where the
-gentry are sittin', but if ye would juist tak' us where we could see, we'd
-be content and terrible pleased. There's a... friend to get his degree
-to-day, and my man and me would like to see him.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Mither,” said the figure, “and ye dinna ken yir ain son,” for he had
-taken them in well, and played his little trick with much success. They
-had never seen him in evening dress, nor in his Master's robe, and the
-light was as darkness; besides, he had dropped the accent of the Glen. The
-father and the son laughed together joyfully at Janet, but she declared
-that she had known him all the time, and put it to them if a mother could
-be mistaken about her son. But she didn't know him all the same, and as
-long as she lived it was a pleasant jest between them when he came north
-to visit them, and she met him at the garden gate. “Well, mither,” he
-would say, “div ye ken yir son the day?”
- </p>
-<p>
-Janet was well pleased that one should tease her in after times about this
-ploy of John's, for it always gave her an opportunity of describing how
-handsome he looked in his black and white silk, and of stating that she.
-Mistress McPherson, wife of James McPherson, shepherd at Camashach,
-considered the dress of a Master of Arts the handsomest that a man could
-wear.
-</p>
-<p>
-John took his father and mother into the hall, and placed them in the
-seats reserved for the friends of graduates, and while a man has various
-moments of pure joy in his life, there is none sweeter than when he brings
-his mother to see him crowned at the close of his university career. For
-in this matter he owes everything to two people—the schoolmaster who
-taught him and the mother who inspired him.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Now, mither, you watch that door yonder, for through it the procession
-will come; and when ye see the men wi' the white silk hoods, ye'll ken
-that I'm there, and ye'll surely no mistake me again.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He was so provoking, and he looked so handsome with the flush of the day
-upon his cheek, that, as he stooped over her, she was about to give him a
-little shove and tell him not to give “any more impi-dence to his auld
-mither,” when she remembered where she was sitting, and the grand folk
-round her, and so she only answered with a demure nod of intelligence.
-</p>
-<p>
-She brought out her glasses, and the shepherd polished them carefully for
-her because her hands were trembling, and for that matter he had almost to
-put them on her nose, so shaken was she on this great day; and then she
-watched the door, as if there was nothing else in all the hall except that
-door. It seemed to her twelve hours before it opened and the procession
-streamed through with many a famous man and many a coloured garment. Janet
-had no eyes for the Chancellor in his purple and gold, nor for the robes
-of red and the hoods of lemon silk bordered with white fur, for there was
-nothing beautiful in her eyes that day except black gowns with white silk
-upon them. When at last the Masters of Arts appeared, she told me
-afterwards many and many a time in the Glen that they were a body of very
-respectable-looking young men, but that among them all there was only one
-outstanding and handsome man, and that, by a curious accident which
-mothers only can explain, happened to be her son. She followed him as he
-came down the passage, and was a little disappointed that he was now
-carrying his trencher in his hand instead of wearing it-on his head, and
-she saw him take his seat, and could hardly forgive some great lady in
-front of her, whose bonnet, coming in the line of vision, prevented her
-catching anything except a little bit of John's shoulder with the white
-silk upon it. A little later, and she watched him rise and go forward and
-kneel before the Chancellor, and then there was said over him Latin words
-so magical that after they were spoken a student was changed from a common
-man into a Master of Arts. We used to say in our jesting that the Latin
-could not be translated, it was so mysterious and awful, but the
-shepherd's wife and John's mother was an accomplished Latin scholar that
-day, and she heard the Chancellor say, as distinctly as ever man spoke—
-</p>
-<p>
-“John McPherson, you are the tallest, strongest, handsomest, ablest,
-kindest-hearted son whom this University ever made Master of Arts.” That
-was a free translation, but it was true in spirit, and the letter killeth.
-</p>
-<p>
-Standing behind the Chancellor, and looking down upon the hall, I saw the
-faces of the shepherd and his wife, and I knew that they would never taste
-such perfect joy again till they entered through the gates into the city,
-and then I longed to be lifted above all circumstances, and to have the
-power of the fairy world, where you do what you please. For I should have
-gone down into the hall, and held a special and unheard-of graduation
-ceremony, conferring a degree of a new kind altogether upon that shepherd
-and his wife, because without their unworldly ideals, and their hard
-sacrifices, and their holy prayers, John McPherson had never knelt there
-that day in his white silk glory, Master of Arts with the highest honours.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XIV.—“DINNA FORGET SPURGEON”
- </h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>IS varied charge was given to the good man on the morning of market day as
-he brought the mare out from the stable, as he harnessed her into the
-dogcart, as he packed the butter basket below the seat, as he wrestled
-into his top coat, worn for ceremony's sake, and as he made the start—line
-upon line and precept upon precept as he was able to receive it; but the
-conclusion of the matter and its crown was ever the same, “Dinna forget
-Spurgeon.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“There's twal pund o' butter for the grocer, the best ever left this
-dairy, and he maun gie a shillin,' or it's the laist Andra Davie'ill get
-frae me; but begin by askin' fourteenpence, else it's eleven ye'll bring
-back. He's a lad, is Andra, an' terrible grippy.
-</p>
-<p>
-“For ony sake tak' care o' the eggs, and mind they're no turnips ye're
-handlin'—it's a fair temptin' o' Providence to see the basket in yir
-hands—ninepence a dozen, mind, and tell him they're new laid an' no
-frae Ireland; there's a handfu' o' flowers for the wife, and a bit o'
-honey for their sick laddie, but say naethin' o' that till the bargain's
-made.
-</p>
-<p>
-“The tea and sugar a've markit on a bit paper, for it's nae use bringin' a
-bag o' grass-seed, as ye did fower weeks ago; an' there's ae thing mair I
-micht mention, for ony sake dinna pit the paraffin oil in the same basket
-wi' the loaf sugar; they may fit fine, as ye said, but otherwise they're
-no gude neeburs. And, John, dinna forget Spurgeon.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Again and again during the day, and in the midst of many practical
-operations, the good wife predicted to her handmaidens what would happen,
-and told them, as she had done weekly, that she had no hope.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It's maist awfu' hoo the maister'ill gae wanderin' and dodderin' thro'
-the market a' day, pricing cattle he's no gaein' tae buy, an' arguin'
-aboot the rent o' farms he's no gaein' to tak', an' never gie a thocht tae
-the errands till the laist meenut.
-</p>
-<p>
-“He may bring hame some oil,” she would continue, gloomily, as if that
-were the one necessity of life to which a male person might be expected to
-give attention; “but ye needna expect ony tea next week”—as if there
-was not a week's stock in the house—“and ye may tak' ma word for it
-there'ill be nae Spurgeon's sermon for Sabbath.”
- </p>
-<p>
-As the provident woman had written every requirement—except the oil,
-which was obtained at the ironmonger's, and the Spurgeon, which was sold
-at the draper's—on a sheet of paper, and pinned it on the topmost
-cabbage leaf which covered the butter, the risk was not great; but that
-week the discriminating prophecy of the good man's capabilities seemed to
-be justified, for the oil was there, but Spurgeon could not be found. It
-was not in the bottom of the dogcart, nor below the cushion, nor attached
-to a piece of saddlery, nor even in the good man's trouser-pocket—all
-familiar resting-places—and when it was at last extricated from the
-inner pocket of his top coat—a garment with which he had no intimate
-acquaintance—he received no credit, for it was pointed out with
-force that to have purchased the sermon and then to have mislaid it, was
-worse than forgetting it altogether.
-</p>
-<p>
-“The Salvation of Manasseh,” read the good wife; “it would have been a
-fine like business to have missed that; a'll warrant this 'ill be ane o'
-his sappiest, but they're a' gude”: and then Manasseh was put in a
-prominent and honourable place, behind the basket of wax flowers in the
-best parlour till Sabbath.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was the good custom in that kindly home to ask the “lads” from the
-bothie into the kitchen on the Sabbath evening, who came in their best
-clothes and in much confusion, sitting on the edge of chairs and refusing
-to speak on any consideration. They made an admirable meal, however, and
-were understood to express gratitude by an attempt at “gude nicht,” while
-the foreman stated often with the weight of his authority that they were
-both “extraordinar' lifted” by the tea and “awfu' ta'en up” with the
-sermon. For after tea the “maister” came “but,” and having seen that every
-person had a Bible, he gave out a Psalm, which was sung usually either to
-Coleshill or Martyrdom—the musical taste of the household being
-limited and conservative to a degree. The good man then read the chapter
-mentioned on the face of the sermon, and remarked by way of friendly
-introduction:
-</p>
-<p>
-“Noo we'ill see what Mr. Spurgeon has to say the nicht.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Perhaps the glamour of the past is on me, perhaps a lad was but a poor
-judge, but it seemed to me good reading—slow, well pronounced,
-reverent, charged with tenderness and pathos. No one slept or moved, and
-the firelight falling on the serious faces of the stalwart men, and the
-shining of the lamp on the good grey heads, as the gospel came, sentence
-by sentence, to every heart, is a sacred memory, and I count that Mr.
-Spurgeon would have been mightily pleased to have been in such meetings of
-homely folk.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was harvest-time, however, when Manasseh was read, and there being
-extra men with us, our little gathering was held in the loft, where they
-store the com which is to be threshed in the mill. It was full of wheat in
-heavy, rich, ripe, golden sheaves, save a wide space in front of the
-machinery, and the congregation seated themselves in a semi-circle on the
-sheaves. The door through which the com is forked into the loft was open
-and, with a skylight in the low dusty roof, gave us, that fine August
-evening, all the light we needed. Through that wide window we could look
-out on some stacks already safely built, and on fields, stretching for
-miles, of grain cut and ready for the gathering and, beyond, to woods and
-sloping hills towards which the sun was westering fast. That evening, I
-remember, we sang
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“I to the hills will lift mine eyes.”
- </pre>
-<p>
-and sang it to French, and it was laid on me as an honour to read
-“Manasseh.” Whether the sermon is called by this name I do not know, and
-whether it be one of the greatest of Mr. Spurgeon's I do not know, nor
-have I a copy of it; but it was mighty unto salvation in that loft, and I
-make no doubt that good grain was garnered unto eternity. There is a
-passage in it when, after the mercy of God has rested on this chief
-sinner, an angel flies through the length and breadth of Heaven, crying,
-“Manasseh is saved, Manasseh is saved.” Up to that point the lad read, and
-further he did not read. You know, because you have been told, how
-insensible and careless is a schoolboy, how destitute of all sentiment and
-emotion... and therefore I do not ask you to believe me. You know how dull
-and stupid is a plowman, because you have been told... and therefore I do
-not ask you to believe me.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was the light which got into the lad's eyes, and the dust which choked
-his voice, and it must have been for the same reasons that a plowman
-passed the back of his hand across his eyes.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Ye'ill be tired noo,” said the good man; “let me feenish the sermon,” but
-the sermon is not yet finished, and never shall be, for it has been unto
-life everlasting.
-</p>
-<p>
-Who of all preachers you can mention of our day could have held such
-companies save Spurgeon? What is to take their place, when the last of
-those well-known sermons disappears from village shops and cottage
-shelves? Is there any other gospel which will ever be so understanded of
-the people, or so move human hearts as that which Spurgeon preached in the
-best words of our own tongue? The good man and his wife have entered into
-rest long ago, and of all that company I know not one now; but I see them
-as I write, against that setting of gold, and I hear the angel's voice,
-“Manasseh is saved,” and for that evening and others very sacred to my
-heart I cannot forget Spurgeon.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XV.—THEIR FULL RIGHTS
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE departure of a minister of the Scots Kirk from his congregation is, of
-course, a subject of regret if he has the heart of the people, but this
-regret is tempered by the satisfaction of knowing that there will be an
-election. While a free-born Scot is careful to exercise his political
-suffrage, he takes an even keener interest in his ecclesiastical vote, and
-the whole congregation now constitutes itself into a constituency. Every
-preacher is a candidate, and everything about him is criticised, from his
-appearance—in one district they would not have a red-headed man; and
-his dress—in another district they objected to grey trousers, up to
-his voice and to his doctrine; but, of course, the keenest criticism bears
-upon his doctrine, which is searched as with a microscope. As a rule there
-is no desire to close the poll early, for a year's vacancy is a year's
-enjoyment to the congregation giving endless opportunity for argument and
-debate for strategy and party management. One congregation had been ruled
-so firmly by the retiring pastor, who was a little man and therefore full
-of authority, that they hardly dared to call their souls their own.
-</p>
-<p>
-If any one ventured to disagree with this ecclesiastical Napoleon he was
-ordered to the door and told to betake himself to some church where
-freedom of action was allowed. This magnificent autocracy might have
-emptied another church, but it secured a Scots kirk, because to tell a
-Scot to go is to make, him stay. As a matter of course, no person did
-leave, for that would have been giving in, and the consequence was that
-the whole congregation was knit together by the iron bonds of rebellion.
-</p>
-<p>
-When Napoleon retired the congregation smacked its lips, for now at least
-every one had found his voice and could go his own way. There never was
-such a vacancy known in the district. They heard thirty candidates and
-rejected them all: they held a meeting every week, which lasted till
-midnight, and there were six motions proposed, and no one dreamed of
-agreement. It was like the emancipation of the slaves, and the whole of
-Scotch cantankerousness came to a height. Every obscure law was hunted up
-in order to be used against the other side, and every well-known law they
-endeavoured to break. Not because they did not know the law, but because
-they wanted to find out whether the presiding minister knew it. This poor
-man had the duty of conducting the meetings of the congregation, and was
-utterly unfitted for the position by his exceeding goodness. He was a
-pious and soft-hearted man, who used to address them as “dear brethren,”
- and appealed to them on the grounds of harmony and charity. “You will wish
-to be at one,” he used to say, when they all really wished to be at sixes
-and sevens, or, “I am sure,” he would say, “you didn't mean to oppose our
-dear brother who has just spoken,” when that had been the speaker's
-intention for twenty-four hours. One party was led by a tall, raw-boned
-Scot, with a voice like a handsaw, who opposed everything, and the other
-was really managed by the wife of one of the elders, who could be heard
-giving directions <i>sotto voce</i> how to meet the handsaw. They finally
-drew the wretched acting moderator to distraction, so that his head, which
-was never so good as his heart, gave way, and he required six months' rest
-in a hydropathic.
-</p>
-<p>
-The Presbytery then sent down a minister of another kind, fairly equipped
-in law and with no bowels of mercy; a civil, courteous, determined,
-fighting man, and there was a royal evening. This minister explained that
-they had held many meetings, most of which were unnecessary, and that they
-had proposed fifty motions, all of which he believed were illegal. It was
-his own conviction he freely stated that they knew perfectly well that
-they had been wrong, and that they had simply been amusing themselves, and
-he concluded by intimating that they had met for business on this
-occasion, that a minister must be elected before departing, and it was his
-business to see that he was elected unanimously. He stood facing the
-congregation, who were now in a high state of delight, feeling that there
-was going to be a real battle, and that there would be some glory in
-contending with an able-bodied man, who would not speak about charity, and
-say “dear brethren”—words which always excite a secret feeling of
-disgust in a Scot. The minister stood up opposite the congregation, tall,
-square and alert. “Will you pay attention and I'll lay down the law; if
-any one breaks the law he must sit down at once, and if he does not, I
-shall not allow him to vote. You can propose any candidate who is legally
-qualified, and I will allow one man to propose him and another to second
-him, and I will give each five minutes in which to speak to the excellence
-of his candidate, and the moment any person refers to another candidate he
-must stop. When the candidates have been proposed we shall take the vote,
-and we shall go on voting until we settle upon the candidate who has the
-majority, and we will do all this in an hour, and then we will sing a
-Psalm and go home.”
- </p>
-<p>
-During this address several stalwart fighters were seen to nod to one
-another, and one went the length of slapping his leg, and already the
-moderator had acquired the respect of his turbulent congregation. The
-handsaw arose and proposed his candidate, and almost immediately attacked
-the other party. “Sit down, sir,” said the moderator, “you're out of
-order,” and after a brief stare of amazement and a measuring of the force
-against him, the handsaw gave a glance around and collapsed. A candidate
-was proposed from the other side, but his name was hardly mentioned before
-the mover commenced to refer to the handsaw. “You are out of order,” said
-the moderator; “not another word,” and, although the female leader of that
-side nodded to him to go on, he thought better, and also collapsed. Then
-an astute old strategist at the back, who had embroiled many a meeting,
-and who was sitting with a law book in his hand, proposed that they should
-delay the election until another meeting. “That motion,” said the
-moderator, “I shall not receive. We have not met to delay; we have met to
-vote.” Whereupon another Scot arose and stated that he had risen to a
-point of order, which is always the excuse by which the proceedings can be
-interrupted. “What,” he said, “I want to know is this: Is it regular to
-vote when there was no notice given that the voting was to take place?”
- “There was notice given,” said the moderator; “sit down in your place.”
- “Can I not object?” he said. “No,” he said, “you can't.” He looked around
-the meeting. “What,” he said, “is the use of being a Presbyterian if I am
-not allowed to object? I might as well be an Episcopalian.” The moderator,
-still standing, eyed him, and said: “Are you going to sit down or are you
-not?” “Do you order me to sit down in your private or in your public
-capacity?” said the recalcitrant. “As a man or as a moderator?” For
-nothing delights a Scot more than to make this contrast between public and
-private capacity, like the Scotch magistrate, who said, “In my public
-capacity I fine you five shillings for the assault; in my private capacity
-I would have done the same myself.” “As moderator,” said the minister, “I
-command you to take your place.” “I consent—I consent,” said the
-Scot, with infinite relish, like a man who had had a wrestling match and
-had been fairly beaten, and he leant back to a friend behind, saying,
-“Sall, he's a lad, the moderator,” for this is the way in which a man wins
-respect from Scots. In a moment he had risen again. “Moderator,” he said,
-“ye commanded me in yir official capacity to sit doon, and I obeyed, but”—and
-there was a silence through the church—“I'll no sit down for that
-woman,” indicating the elder's wife. “She would turn round and order me to
-sit down as if I had been her husband, but, moderator,” he said, “I thank
-the Almichty I'm not.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Greatly cheered by this episode, the congregation proceeded to vote, the
-leaders taking objections to different voters, which were all overruled by
-the moderator, who was now going from strength to strength. And then at
-last a minister was elected by a large majority. “Now,” said the
-moderator, “you've had a fair fight and a year's argument, and there is
-not a privilege you have not used, and you have done a thousand things you
-had no right to do, and I appeal to the minority to agree with the
-majority, as Scots ought to do when they have had their rights.” Whereupon
-the handsaw arose and declared that he was never prouder of the Scotch
-Church than he had been during the last year, and that in all his life he
-had never spent a happier time. “We've had a grand argument and richt
-stand up fecht, and now,” he said, “I'm willing, for masel, and I speak
-for my friends, to accept the minister that's been elected, for I consider
-him to be a soond preacher and vary spiritual in the exercises. The fact
-is,” he added, “I would have been content with him at ony time, but it
-would have been a peety to have had an immediate election and to have
-missed this year. When he comes he'll have my hearty support, and I'm
-willing to agree that he should have a proper stipend, and that the manse
-be papered and painted and put in order for his coming.” As he sat down he
-could be heard over all the church saying to himself with immense
-satisfaction, “It's been a michty time, and the law's been well laid down
-this nicht.” The minister gave out the Psalm—
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“How good a thing it is, and
-How becoming well,
-To gather such as brethren are
-In unity to dwell!”
- </pre>
-<p>
-Which was sung with immense spirit, and, after the benediction, every man
-whom the minister had ordered to sit down came up and shook hands with
-him, assuring him that they knew all the time that he was right, and that
-they respected him for his ability. They also entreated him to come and
-administer the sacrament before the new minister arrived, believing that a
-man who could rule with so firm a hand would be an acceptable preacher of
-the gospel.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XVI.—AN EXPERT IN HERESY
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>VERY country has its own sports, and Scotland has golf, but golf only
-satisfies the lighter side of the Scots; the graver side of the Scot finds
-its exercise in the prosecution of a heretic. Nothing so delights this
-theological and argumentative people as a heresy hunt, and they have no
-more ill-will to a heretic than sportsmen have to a fox. It sometimes
-occurs to me that they dally with cases in order that they may be
-prolonged, and that the sportsmen may have a good run after the fox. I
-have even dared to think that they would be willing to preserve heretics
-as foxes are preserved in hunting counties in order that they might have a
-good time now and again. Every one throws himself into a heresy case, from
-the highest to the lowest, from the Duke in his castle to the shepherd on
-the hills, from the lawyer in his office to the railway guard in his van.
-They all read about it and form their opinion, and take sides and watch
-the event, and the issue of the case is a national incident. From the
-conflict of wits, in which the hardest heads have tried conclusions on the
-deepest subjects, the people return to business shrewder than ever, more
-confident and self-satisfied.
-</p>
-<p>
-We had missed the connexion, and the North train had gone fifteen minutes
-ago, and how I was to reach the station of Pitrodie that night was a
-question beyond solution. The station master could give no help, and only
-suggested that I might sleep at the inn and take the morning train, but in
-that case I would have been too late for the funeral to which I was going.
-When he heard the nature of my errand he bestirred himself with much more
-zeal, for, although a Scot may not facilitate your journey for a marriage,
-which he regards as an event of very doubtful utility, and associated with
-little geniality, he is always ready to assist you to a funeral to which
-the heart of the Scotch people goes out with pathetic interest.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Would you mind travelling in the guard's van of a luggage train and ye
-would be in fine time?”
- </p>
-<p>
-On the contrary, I would be delighted, for I had never travelled in such
-circumstances, and the guard's van would be a pleasant variety upon a
-third-class carriage.
-</p>
-<p>
-The guard received me with considerable cordiality and gave me his seat in
-the van, which was decorated with pictures of kirks and eminent divines.
-For a while he was engaged with various duties, shunting trucks and making
-up his train, but after we had started and were out upon the line he came
-and placed himself opposite.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Now,” he said, “we've a run of twenty miles, and it's not likely we'll be
-interrupted, for the rails are clear at this time of night, and we're an
-express goods. I regard it,” he said, “as a providence that ye lost yer
-train, for if I'd been asked what I would like this very nicht I would ha
-said, 'Gie me a minister.'”
- </p>
-<p>
-When I expressed my pleasure at his respect for the cloth, and my
-willingness to be of any service to him, he waved his hand as one does who
-has been misunderstood. “It's no,” he said, “releegious conversation that
-I'm wantin', although I'm willing enough to have that at a time, but
-there's a point in the Robertson-Smith heresy case that I would like to
-have cleared up to my satisfaction.”
- </p>
-<p>
-A tall and grey-bearded man, about fifty years of age, with a keen eye and
-a shrewd face, he leant forward from his place, and, with the light of the
-lamp shining on his face, he began: “Now, ye see, the first article in the
-libel against Prof. Robertson-Smith has to do with the construction of the
-Book of Deuteronomy,” but I will not inflict what he said, for it took ten
-miles of the railway to open up his point. As we rattled along the birling
-of the heavy break van was like music to words of sonorous sound—“Pentateuch,”
- “Mosaic Authorship,” “Confession of Faith.”
- </p>
-<p>
-For another ten miles we discussed the length and breadth of the eminent
-Hebrew scholar's views till we reached a crisis, which happened also to be
-a junction on the railway. “One minute,” he said, “and we maun stop, for
-we're coming to the junction.” The point we were at was the place of the
-Song of Solomon in the Old Testament. “Now, I contend,” he continued,
-“that it hes to be read spiritually, and I've given three reasons. I've
-three mair, but I maun shunt the trucks. I'll be back in ten minutes, and
-ye'll not forget that the discussion is no closed but just adjourned, and
-I've the richt to give the other three reasons before ye reply.” And then,
-after the three had been given and thirty more, we parted as the day was
-breaking. At Pitrodie station he crossed the platform with me, and shook
-hands till my bones were almost broken.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It's been a very edifying nicht, and I'll gie fair consideration to all
-your arguments. Mind ye, I'm proud o' the Professor, for he's a michty
-scholar, and I wouldna like to see him put out o' the kirk, but I'm
-jalousing that he's a heretic.” I stood at a turn of the road and saw the
-train pass, and my friend waved his hand to me from the back of the van,
-but I could see him sadly shake his head. He was still jalousing
-(suspecting) that Prof. Robertson-Smith was a heretic.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XVII.—THE SCOT AT AN ARGUMENT
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T is difficult for one nation to perfectly understand another, and there
-is a certain quality of the Scots' intellect which is apt to try the
-patience of an Englishman. It is said that an Englishman was once so
-exasperated by the arguing by a Scot, who took the opposite side on every
-subject from the weather to politics, that at last he cried out in
-despair: “You will admit at least that two and two make four,” to which
-the delighted Scot replied with celerity, “I'll admit naething, but I'm
-willing to argue the proposition.” It is not recorded whether the Scot
-escaped alive, but it is hardly possible to believe that he was not
-assaulted. You may be the most conciliatory of people, and may even be
-cleansed from all positive opinions—one of those people who are said
-to be agreeable because they agree with everybody; and yet a thoroughbred
-Scot will in ten minutes or less have you into a tangle of prickly
-arguments, and hold you at his mercy, although afterwards you cannot
-remember how you were drawn from the main road into the bramble patch, and
-you are sure that the only result was the destruction of your peace of
-mind for an afternoon. But the Scot enjoyed himself immensely, and goes on
-with keen zest to ambush some other passenger. What evil spirit of logic
-has possessed this race? an English person cannot help complaining, and
-why should any person find his pleasure in wordy debate?
-</p>
-<p>
-From his side of the Tweed and of human nature the Scot is puzzled and
-pained by the inconsequence and opportunism of the English mind. After a
-Scot, for instance, has proved to his Southern opponent that some
-institution is absolutely illogical, that it ought never to have existed,
-and ought at once to be abolished, and after the Scot pursuing his
-victorious way of pure reason, has almost persuaded himself that a thing
-so absurd never has existed, the Englishman, who has been very much bored
-by the elaborate argument, will ask with a monstrous callousness whether
-the institution does not work well, and put forward with brazen effrontery
-the plea that if an institution works well, it does not matter whether it
-be logical or not. Then it is that a Scot will look at an Englishman in
-mournful silence and wonder upon what principle he was created.
-</p>
-<p>
-The traveller no sooner crosses the border from the genial and
-irresponsible South than he finds himself in a land where a nation forms
-one huge debating society, and there is a note of interrogation in the
-very accent of speech. When an English tourist asked his driver what was
-the reason of so many religious denominations in Scotland, and the driver,
-looking down upon a village with six different kirks, answered, “Juist bad
-temper, naething else,” he was indulging his cynicism and knew very well
-that he was misinforming the stranger.
-</p>
-<p>
-While it is absolutely impossible to make plain to an average Englishman
-the difference between one kirk and another in Scotland, yet every one has
-its own logical basis, and indeed when one considers the subtlety and
-restlessness of the Scots intellect he wonders, not that there have been
-so many divisions, but that there have been so few in Scots religion. By
-preference a Scot discusses Theology, because it is the deepest subject
-and gives him the widest sphere for his dialectic powers, but in default
-of Theology he is ready to discuss anything else, from the Game Laws to
-the character of Mary, Queen of Scots. He is the guardian of correct
-speech and will not allow any inaccuracy to pass, and therefore you never
-know when in the hurry of life you may not be caught and rebuked. When I
-asked a porter in Stirling Station one afternoon at what hour the train
-for Aberfoyle left I made a mistake of which I speedily repented. <i>The</i>
-train for Aberfoyle—I had assumed there was only one train that
-afternoon, for this beautiful but remote little place. Very good, that was
-then the position I had taken up and must defend. The porter licked his
-lips with anticipation of victory, for he held another view. “<i>The</i>
-train for Aberfoyle,” he repeated triumphantly. “Whatna train div ye
-mean?”—then severely as one exposing a hasty assumption—“there's
-a train at 3.10, there's another at 3.60, there's another at 6.30” (or
-some such hours). He challenged me to reply or withdraw, and his voice was
-ringing with controversy. When I made an abject surrender he was not
-satisfied, but pursued me and gained another victory. “Very good,” I said,
-“then what train should I take?” He was now regarding me with something
-like contempt, an adversary whom it was hardly worth fighting with. That
-depended on circumstances he did not know and purposes which I had not
-told him. He could only pity me. “How can I tell,” he said, “what train ye
-should go by, ye can go by ony train that suits ye, but yir luggage, being
-booked through, will travel by the 3.10.” During our conversation my
-portmanteau which I had placed under his charge was twice removed from its
-barrow in the shifting of the luggage, and as my friend watched its goings
-(without interfering) he relaxed from his intellectual severity and
-allowed himself a jest suitable to my capacity. “That's a lively
-portmanteau o' yours. I'm judging that if ye set it on the road it would
-go Aberfoyle itsel'.” When we parted on a basis of free silver he still
-implied a reproach, “so ye did conclude to go by the 3.10, but” (showing
-how poor were my reasoning faculties even after I had used them) “ye would
-have been as soon by the 3.50.” For a sustained and satisfying bout of
-argument one must visit a Scot in his home and have an evening to spare.
-Was it not Carlyle's father who wrote to Tom that a man had come to the
-village with a fine ability for argument, and that he only wished his son
-were with them and then he would set Tom on one side of the table and this
-man on the other place, and “a proposeetion” between them, and hear them
-argue for the night? But one may get pleasant glimpses of the national
-sport on railway journeys and by the roadside. A farmer came into the
-carriage one summer afternoon, as I was travelling through Ayrshire, who
-had been attending market and had evidently dined. He had attended to the
-lighter affairs of life in the sale of stock and the buying of a reaping
-machine, and now he was ready for the more serious business of theological
-discussion. He examined me curiously but did not judge me worthy, and
-after one or two remarks on the weather with which I hastened to agree, he
-fell into a regretful silence as of one losing his time. Next station a
-minister entered, and the moment my fellow-passenger saw the white tie his
-eyes glistened, and in about three minutes they were actively engaged, the
-farmer and the Minister, discussing the doctrine of justification. The
-Minister, as in duty bound, took the side of justification by faith, and
-the farmer, simply I suppose to make debate and certainly with a noble
-disregard of personal interests—for he had evidently dined—took
-the side of works. Perhaps it may seem as if it was an unequal match
-between the Minister and the farmer, since the one was a professional
-scholar and the other a rustic amateur. But the difference was not so
-great as a stranger might imagine, for if a minister be as it were a
-theological specialist every man in Scotland is a general practitioner.
-And if the latter had his own difficulties in pronouncing words he was
-always right in the text he intended. They conducted their controversy
-with much ability till we came to the farmer's station, and then he left
-still arguing, and with my last glimpse of that admirable Scot he was
-steadying himself against a post at the extremity of the platform, and
-this was his final fling: “I grant ye Paul and the Romans, but I take my
-stand on James.” Wonderful country where the farmers, even after they have
-dined, take to theology as a pastime. What could that man not have done
-before he dined.
-</p>
-<p>
-In earlier days, the far back days of youth, I knew a rustic whose square
-and thick-set figure was a picture of his sturdy and indomitable mind. He
-was slow of speech and slow also of mind, but what he knew he held with
-the grip of a vice and he would yield nothing in conversation. If you said
-it was raining (when it might be pouring) he would reply that it was
-showery. If you declared a field of com to be fine he said that he had
-seen “waur” (worse), and if you praised a sermon he granted that it wasna
-bad; and in referring to a minister distinguished throughout the land for
-his saintliness he volunteered the judgment that there was “naething
-positively veecious in him.” Many a time did I try, sometimes to browbeat
-him, and sometimes to beguile him into a positive statement and to get him
-to take up a position from which he could not withdraw. I was always
-beaten, and yet once I was within an ace of success. We had bought a horse
-on the strength of a good character from a dealer, and were learning the
-vanity of speech in all horse transactions, for there was nothing that
-beast did not do of the things no horse ought to do, and one morning after
-it had tried to get at James with its hind legs, and then tried to bring
-him down with its fore legs, had done its best to bite him, and also
-manoeuvred to crush him against a wall, I hazarded the suggestion that our
-new purchase was a vicious brute. He caught the note of assurance in my
-voice, and saw that he had been trapped; he cast an almost pathetic look
-at me as if I was inviting him to deny his national character and betray a
-historic part of unbroken resistance. He hesitated and looked for a way of
-escape while he skilfully warded off another attack, this time with the
-teeth, and his face brightened. “Na!” he replied, “I'll no admit that the
-horse is veecious, we maun hae more experience o' him afore we can pass
-sic a judgment, but”—and now he just escaped a playful tap from the
-horse's fore-leg—“I'm prepared to admit that this momin' he is a wee
-thingie liteegious.” And so victory was snatched from my hand, and I was
-again worsted.
-</p>
-<p>
-If the endless arguing of the Scot be wearisome to strangers and one would
-guess is a burden to himself, yet it has its advantages. It has been a
-discipline for the Scots mind, and the endless disputations on doctrine
-and kirks as well as more trifling matters like history and politics has
-toughened the Scots brain and brought it to a fine edge. When I hear a
-successful Scot speak lightly of the Shorter Catechism, then I am amazed
-and tempted to despise him, for it was by that means that he was sent
-forth so acute and enterprising a man, and any fortune he has made he owes
-to its training. He has been trained to think and to reason, to separate
-what is true from what is false, to use the principles of speech and test
-the subtlest meaning of words, and therefore, if he be in business, he is
-a banker by preference, because that is the science of commerce, and if he
-be an artizan, he becomes an engineer because that is the most skilful
-trade, and as a doctor he is spread all over the world. Wherever hard
-thinking and a determined will tell in the world's work this self-reliant
-and uncompromising man is sure to succeed, and if his mind has not the
-geniality and flexibility of the English, if it secretly hates the English
-principle of compromise, and suspects the English standard of commonsense,
-if it be too unbending and even unreasonably logical, this only proves
-that no one nation, not even the Scots, can possess the whole earth.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XVIII.—UPON THE LECTURE PLATFORM
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HERE are four places where a man may lecture, exclusive of the open air,
-which is reserved for political demonstrations and religious meetings, and
-I arrange the four in order of demerit. The worst is, beyond question, a
-church, because ecclesiastical architects have no regard for acoustics,
-and a lecturer is apt to crack his voice yelling into the corners of
-churches.
-</p>
-<p>
-People come to a church, also, in a chastened mood, and sit as if they
-were listening to a sermon, so that the unhappy lecturer receives little
-encouragement of applause or laughter, and, if he happens to be himself a
-clergyman, is hindered from doing anything to enliven the audience.
-Besides, the minister of the church will feel it his duty to introduce the
-leading members of his congregation after the lecture, and a reception of
-this kind in the vestry is the last straw on a weary lecturer's back. He
-cannot, however, refuse because he is a fellow professional, and knows
-that his discourtesy may be set to the debit of the minister. Next in
-badness is a public hall, because it is so bare and cheerless, and on
-account of its size is difficult to fill with an audience, and still more
-difficult with the voice. Drill halls, especially, are heart-breaking
-places, because they are constructed for the voices of commanding officers
-shouting “right wheel,” “march,” “fire,” and such like martial
-exhortations.
-</p>
-<p>
-There is also another objection to halls from the lecturer's standpoint,
-and that is the accessibility of the platform. Usually there are two sets
-of steps, which the audience consider have been constructed in order that
-they may come on the platform in a body and shake hands with the lecturer.
-If a lecturer be a human being, he is always glad to see two or three of
-his fellow-creatures, especially if they say something encouraging, but
-just because he is a human being and has spoken for an hour and a half, he
-is apt to lose heart when he sees half of his large audience, say seven
-hundred people, processing in his direction.
-</p>
-<p>
-It is on such an occasion that he is full of gratitude to a manager who
-will come in with his travelling coat and march the lecturer out at the
-back door, as a man in haste to catch his train or on any other pretence.
-</p>
-<p>
-A lecturer may count himself fortunate, and need have no anxiety about
-circumstances, who speaks from the stage of a theatre, because he will
-have his whole audience within convenient compass, and focussed upon him,
-and although he comes down to a whisper he will still be heard. When you
-lecture at a theatre you are known as the “star,” and as you cross the
-dark and mysterious under-world behind the stage you hear some one crying:
-“This way to the star's room,” which generally turns out to be the room of
-the leading actress, where you may spend a quarter of an hour in seeing
-yourself in the innumerable mirrors, and examining the long array of
-toilet instruments on the table.
-</p>
-<p>
-Theatrical people are most sympathetic and good-natured, and although they
-may not have the faintest idea who you are or what you are going to do,
-they always wish you well, and congratulate you if there is a good house.
-Their own house may not have been good last night, but they are glad if
-yours is good to-day.
-</p>
-<p>
-The crowning advantage of a theatre to a nervous and hard-wrought lecturer
-is its seclusion. You get in and out by the stage door, and there is not
-one person in a hundred of your audience could find that door, and if he
-did he would not get admittance. From the floor to the stage there is no
-way, and when you pass behind the curtain you are beyond reach even of an
-interviewer.
-</p>
-<p>
-When I become an impresario I shall never allow my “star” to be seen,
-except on the platform, and after he has done his work I will remove him
-swiftly in a closed conveyance. In this way I shall lay him under a debt
-of gratitude, and keep him in good humour, and get out of him a third more
-work. As I have no idea of entering on this business at present, I offer
-the hint to all impresarios everywhere, with my respectful compliments.
-</p>
-<p>
-If a lecturer could always choose—which practically he never can do
-at all—he would prefer to lecture to a club of men and women in
-their club-room, or in the large drawing-room of a private house. He will
-then address a limited number of bright people who are at their best; he
-can talk as at a dinner-table and make his point easily; he can venture on
-an aside, or stop to tell an anecdote, and after an hour or so he will be
-as little fatigued as when he began. When the lecture is over he mixes
-with his audience and in a minute is a private individual. This is the
-very refinement and luxury of lecturing, which a lecturer enjoys only on
-rare occasions.
-</p>
-<p>
-Local arrangements differ very much, and some of them are rather trying to
-a lecturer. There are places where a regular procession is formed and
-marches to the platform, headed by a local dignitary, and made up of
-clergymen, magistrates, little millionaires, and public characters of all
-kinds and degrees. In midst thereof the lecturer marches like a criminal
-being taken to the scaffold.
-</p>
-<p>
-Once I discovered in the ante-room a magnificent embroidered robe, and the
-insane idea took possession of my mind that it was intended for the
-lecturer. Had it been put upon me there would have been no lecture, for I
-should have been smothered with its greatness and its grandeur. I was
-still regarding it with horror and perspiring freely when the chief
-magistrate of the city came in, and it was put on his shoulders by two
-liveried servants, who then decorated us all, from the chief magistrate
-down to myself, with flowers. The servants marched first into the hall,
-the great man followed, and I crept, following behind his majestic figure
-(which was received with frantic howls of applause), and this was the
-grandest entry I ever made upon the lecture platform.
-</p>
-<p>
-In some places there is a chairman—I shall have something to say
-about chairmen—and votes of thanks, first to the lecturer, then to
-the chairman and to other people who have had some connexion or other with
-the matter, till a third of the time is taken up by local talk and the
-lecturer is put to confusion.
-</p>
-<p>
-For votes of thanks I have personally an intense dislike, because the
-movers refer to one in terms which might suitably apply to William
-Shakespeare (one enthusiastic admirer preferred me to Shakespeare,
-because, although he classed us together as occupying a solitary position,
-I had the advantage of being more sentimental). As a lecturer on Scots
-subjects I have a horror of other speakers, because they feel it necessary
-to tell Scots stories without knowing the dialect, and generally without
-knowing the story.
-</p>
-<p>
-Certain places are very business-like in their arrangements, and the
-smartest in this respect is, curious to say, not in America, but in
-England. You are brought to the place of operation five minutes before the
-hour, and at two minutes to eight placed upon the platform. When the hand
-of the clock points to eight you begin to speak, and when the hand stands
-at nine you close. If you are one minute late in beginning, the audience
-grows restless, and if you are five minutes late in closing, they leave.
-There are no preliminaries and no after-talk, and you do your best with
-one of the most intelligent audiences any lecturer could address in sixty
-minutes.
-</p>
-<p>
-The most risky audience in my experience is afforded by the free lectures
-given in an English city, which is made up by men who have dropped in from
-the streets because the hall is open and because something is going on. If
-they are interested they will listen eagerly and reward the lecturer with
-enthusiastic applause, besides giving an irrelevant cheer occasionally for
-Old Ireland or Lord Roberts. If the audience is not interested they leave
-in solid blocks of fifty, without any regard to the lecturer's feelings,
-or the disturbance of their neighbours.
-</p>
-<p>
-The most sympathetic and encouraging audience a man can have are the
-students of an American ladies' college, because if he is nervous, as an
-Englishman is bound to be before three hundred bright American young
-women, they will catch his first point, and they will smile upon him and
-show that they believe there is something in him if he could only get it
-out, and create such a kindly atmosphere that he will rise to his height
-and do his best.
-</p>
-<p>
-This was how the students of a delightful college not very far from
-Philadelphia treated myself when I was almost ready to sink through the
-floor from sheer terror of facing so many young women, being a sisterless
-and daughterless man, and I wish to thank one young lady who sat in the
-front and smiled encouragement upon me until I lifted up my head and took
-heart.
-</p>
-<p>
-I have never utterly collapsed, and have never fled from the platform, but
-I was reduced to confusion and incoherence of speech when I opened a
-clubhouse for a company of women students at a certain American
-University, and my whole audience suddenly flopped down upon the floor as
-I began my little speech. As the floor had a beautiful carpet and there
-were no chairs, the young ladies no doubt did well for themselves, but as
-I looked down upon that fair flower-garden all my thoughts vanished, and I
-do not think that I uttered a grammatical sentence.
-</p>
-<p>
-American young women do not know that an Englishman is the most bashful
-creature on the face of the earth, and that he would rather face an
-audience of two thousand men from the streets than address twenty young
-women, every one as sharp as a needle and as pretty as a flower.
-</p>
-<p>
-My experience of chairmen is wide and varied, and I have lectured under
-the Presidency of some very distinguished and able men, but on the whole I
-would rather be without a chairman. There was one who introduced me in a
-single sentence of five minutes' length, in which he stated that as he
-would treasure every word I said more than pure gold he did not wish to
-curtail my time by a single minute. He then fell fast asleep, and I had
-the honour of wakening him at the close of the lecture. Had he slept
-anywhere else I should not have had the smallest objection, but his
-restful attitude in the high estate of the chair had an unedifying and
-discomposing effect on the audience.
-</p>
-<p>
-On the whole, I preferred that chairman to another who introduced me to
-the extent of twenty-five minutes, and occupied the time in commending to
-the exasperated audience the claims of a foundling asylum with which he
-had some charitable connexion. This time it was the lecturer who fell
-asleep and had to be wakened when the audience drove the chairman to his
-seat.
-</p>
-<p>
-A lecturer is also much refreshed amid his labour by the assurance of the
-chairman that he has simply lived upon his books for years, and has been
-looking forward to this evening for the last three months with high
-expectation, when after these flattering remarks he does not know your
-name, and can only put it before the audience after a hurried consultation
-with the secretary of the lecture course.
-</p>
-<p>
-My memory returns also with delight to a chairman who insisted that one
-object had brought them together, and that I was no stranger in that town
-because the whole audience before him were my friends, and then having
-called me Doctor Maclaren and Ian Watson, besides having hinted more than
-once at Mr. Barrie, introduced me to an uproarious audience as Mr. Ian
-John Maclaren Watson.
-</p>
-<p>
-It is, of course, my gain, and the loss of two more distinguished
-fellow-countrymen, that I should be hopelessly associated in the minds of
-many people with Mr. Crockett and Mr. Barrie. But when one speaker
-declared that I would be remembered by grateful posterity as the Stickit
-Minister, I was inclined to protest, for whatever have been my defects as
-a preacher, I still have succeeded in obtaining a church; and when another
-speaker explained he had gone three times to see my “Little Minister,” I
-felt obliged to deny myself the authorship of that delightful play.
-</p>
-<p>
-Allusions on the part of the audience, when they shook hands with me
-afterwards, I allowed to paas because there was not time to put things
-right; merely smiling at the mention of “A Window in Thrums,” and looking
-modest at the adjectives heaped upon “The Raiders.” My cynical humour was
-greatly tickled with the chairman, who had been very cordial with me in
-private, and who was understood by the public to have been closely
-identified with my visit to his city, when he not only escaped from the
-stage after he had introduced me, but also immediately left the theatre
-and cheerfully betook himself to his office without hearing one word of
-the lecture. Perhaps he had discovered from some casual remark of mine
-that I was not Mr. Barrie, and was at a loss to make out who I could be.
-</p>
-<p>
-With mayors and other public functionaries who have to speak six times a
-day on six different subjects, and who get a little confused as to which
-meeting they are attending, I have the utmost sympathy, and never have
-been discomposed by any reference to the management of hospitals or the
-fallacy of bimetallism, even though the references were very indifferently
-connected with the lecturer and his subjects.
-</p>
-<p>
-The labour of shaking hands afterwards with a considerable proportion of
-your audience is not only lightened by their kindness, but also much
-cheered by their conversation. After a few evenings in the United States I
-arrived at the rooted conviction that the majority of the American people
-belonged to the Scots race, and that America was the real Scotland. It was
-not only that native-born Scots came forward to welcome a
-fellow-countryman with an accent which was beyond all dispute and could be
-heard six yards off, and with allusions to Auchterarder which warmed your
-heart, but that every person seemed to be connected with Scotland.
-</p>
-<p>
-One belonged to a family which had emigrated from Scotland in the
-seventeenth century, and was anxious to know whether I could give him any
-information on the family tree. Another had married a Scots wife, and
-believed he owed his prosperity to her; a third was an admirer of Sir
-Walter Scott, and looked forward to visiting Scotland as the ambition of
-his life. And one lady, full of despair as she heard the Scots claims of
-the people around her, came and confessed frankly: “I am not Scots, and I
-have no relative a Scot, and none of our family married a Scot, but my
-sister has a Scots nurse: will that do?” I assured her it would, and that
-I was glad at last to meet a genuine American, because I had come to see
-the American people.
-</p>
-<p>
-I have a vivid recollection of one place where a clan had turned out to
-receive me, and I was escorted to the platform by a band of plaided
-warriors, who, headed by a piper, marched me in and ranged themselves
-round me on the platform. When the lecture was over, one clansman met me
-in the anteroom, and I hardly recognized him; he was about three inches
-taller and six inches bigger round the chest than before the lecture, and
-was as a man intoxicated, though not with strong drink.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Mr. Maclaren,” he said to me, “eh, but we are a michty people,” and he
-slapped his chest vigorously. I hinted that we had one or two faults to
-modify our perfection, but he was not in a mood for such consideration.
-“No worth mentioning,” he said, and departed in glory. The national prayer
-of our people is understood to be: “Lord, give us a good conceit of
-ourselves,” and this prayer in my compatriot's case had been wonderfully
-fulfilled.
-</p>
-<p>
-Audiences vary very much in excellence, and it is difficult to understand
-the reason, because you may have the most delightful and the most
-difficult from the same class of people. Audiences are like horses—some
-of them so hard in the mouth and spiritless that they almost pull your arm
-out of the socket, and others so bright and high-spirited that you hardly
-feel the reins in your hands, and driving—that is to say, speaking—is
-a delight.
-</p>
-<p>
-The ideal audience is not one which accompanies you from beginning to end
-with applause and laughter, but one that takes every point and enjoys it
-with intelligent reserve, so that your illustrations may be condensed into
-allusions, and a word conveys your humour. One of my pleasures as a
-lecturer was to test every audience by a certain passage which divided the
-sheep from the goats, and I think my enjoyment was even greater when they
-were all goats.
-</p>
-<p>
-It came into a reading from the <i>Briar-Bush</i> where the word
-“intoxication” occurs. My custom was to stop and apologise for the
-appearance of such a word in my book, and to explain that the word is not
-known in Scots speech. There are, I used to say, two reasons why a
-Scotsman does not employ the word. The first is that he is imperfectly
-acquainted with the painful circumstances to which this word is supposed
-to allude, and the second that a Scotsman considers that no one with a
-limited human intellect can know enough about the conditions of his
-fellow-creatures to make such a statement.
-</p>
-<p>
-When an audience took in the situation at once, then one could rest for a
-moment, since they required that time to appreciate the rigid temperance
-and conscientious literary accuracy of the Scotch people. When they took
-the statement in perfect seriousness, and one or two solemn reformers
-nodded their heads in high approval, then I wanted to go behind the
-curtain and shake hands with myself. More than once it was with difficulty
-I could continue in face of this unbroken seriousness, and once I broke
-down utterly, although I hope the audience only supposed I was laughing at
-some poor humour of my own.
-</p>
-<p>
-The cause of my collapse was not the faces of the audience, but the
-conduct of a brother Scot, whose head went down below the seat as he
-learned the two reasons why the word intoxicated is not used in Scotland.
-When he emerged from the depths he cast a glance of delight in my
-direction as to one who was true in all circumstances of his nation, and
-then he was composing himself to listen with fresh confidence to a
-lecturer who had given such pledges of patriotism, when he caught sight of
-the faces of the audience.
-</p>
-<p>
-As it dawned upon him that the audience had taken the statement literally,
-he was again obliged to go into retirement. Twice he made a brave effort
-to regain possession of himself, but as often the sight of the audience
-shook him to his foundation. At last he rose and left the theatre, but at
-the door he lingered to take one look at the unconscious audience, and
-then shaking his head in my direction with patriotic joy, he departed from
-the building, and I was obliged to imagine an execution in order to
-continue my lecture.
-</p>
-<p>
-The lecturer's nerves ought to be made of wire, for he never knows what
-may happen. There is one town in the United States where the express
-trains run down the main street, and you lecture there to an accompaniment
-of engine bells and the blowing-off of steam. When the music rises too
-high for the human voice, the lecturer in that town ought to abandon the
-contest and offer between the whistles a few remarks on the legislative
-power of American railways. These remarks will be vastly enjoyed by the
-audience.
-</p>
-<p>
-Behind the platform of one large hall is the lift of the next building,
-which is used at regular intervals of a minute, and you have your
-sentences punctuated by the whoop of the unseen lift till at last you can
-calculate the time and know that you have spoken ninety whoops, and it is
-nearly time to stop.
-</p>
-<p>
-One night I was arrested by the sound of steady snoring which could be
-heard over the larger part of the theatre, but although every one was in
-search for the offender, he could not be found. At last the sound was
-traced to the stage, and, as there was no one on the stage except myself,
-to be behind the curtain. One of the servants of the theatre had laid
-himself down there in order to enjoy the lecture, and that had proved of
-such a solid character that he had fallen into a fit of meditation, from
-which he was very rudely awakened.
-</p>
-<p>
-One evening in a Canadian town a fox terrier came in, and owing to some
-difference of opinion with a gentleman in the stalls, expressed himself in
-public. As there was to be a dog story in the lecture, I thought it well
-to explain that the terrier had been engaged to take part, but had broken
-in too soon. For a while the dog behaved with much propriety, and then
-there was a second outbreak.
-</p>
-<p>
-Six gentlemen combined to get that dog out of the theatre, but not without
-difficulty and danger. The terrier retired fighting.
-</p>
-<p>
-The platform does many good things for a lecturer; for one thing, it
-strengthens his voice; it brings him into contact with large bodies of his
-fellow-men, and it inspires him with humanity. Upon the platform he learns
-to command himself; to take disappointments like a man; and, above all, he
-gains a new conviction of the kindness and goodwill of large bodies of
-people whom he has never seen before and may never see again, and of whom
-he will ever think with a grateful heart.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XIX.—FOR THE SAKE OF A HORSE
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N the days of long ago I used to live in the summer-time upon a farm in
-one of the rich plains of Scotland, where the soil was deep and we could
-grow everything, from the fragrant red clover to the strong, upstanding
-wheat. One reason why our farm bore such abundant crops was its situation;
-for it lay, in the shape of the letter V, between two rivers which met
-upon our ground. One of the rivers was broad and shallow, and its clear
-water ran over gravel, brawling and fretting when it came upon a large
-stone, and making here and there a pleasant little fall. This river in the
-winter-time could rise high and run with a strong current, and there were
-days and sometimes weeks when we could not send our men and horses across
-its ford. We never hated this river, because, although it could be angry
-and proud when the snow was melting on the distant hill or a big
-thunder-cloud burst in the glens above us, it was never treacherous and
-sullen; it had no unexpected depths into which a man and horse might fall,
-but was open as the day, and its water was as bright. Wherefore I have
-kindly thoughts of that stream, and when the sun is hot in the city, and
-there is no unused air to breathe, I wish I were again upon its banks and
-could see it gleaming underneath the bushes as it sings its way past my
-feet.
-</p>
-<p>
-The other river was narrow, and ran in silence between its banks; or
-rather it did not run, but trailed itself along like a serpent, deep,
-black, and smooth. There was no end to its wicked cunning, for it
-pretended to be only three feet deep and it was twelve, and sometimes it
-hollowed out to itself a hole where a twenty-foot line would not touch the
-bottom. One of its worst tricks was to undermine the bank so that the
-green turf on which you stood became a trap, and, yielding beneath your
-feet, unless you were very dexterous, shot you into the river. Then unless
-you could swim, the river would drown you in its black water as if with
-fiendish delight.
-</p>
-<p>
-Over this river, also, we required to have a ford; but in this case it was
-not natural, for the bottom of this river was far below the surface of the
-water, and it was soft, deep clay. Across the river, therefore, the ford
-had to be built up with stones; and it was made in the shape of a
-horseshoe, so that any one crossing must follow a rough half-circle from
-bank to bank, and he had to keep to the line of the ford, for below it the
-water poured into a depth of thirty feet. When the river was low one could
-easily trace the ford, and there was no excuse for getting into danger;
-but if the river had been fed by the upland rains, then every sign of the
-ford was lost, and a man had to be very careful how he picked his horse's
-way. And all the time the wicked water would be bringing its weight to
-bear on him, in the hope of carrying him and his horse and everything else
-that was with him over the edge.
-</p>
-<p>
-This river we loathed, and at the thought of its wickedness and its
-tragedies—for twice I nearly lost my life in it—I still
-shudder, here in my study.
-</p>
-<p>
-One afternoon I went down to the ford in order to warn a plowman that he
-must not cross. That morning he had taken a load of grain to the railway-,
-station, and now he was coming back with the empty cart and two horses.
-During the day there had been rain upon the mountains, and the river was
-swollen so that every sign of the ford was lost.
-</p>
-<p>
-I stood high up upon the bank, and when he came down the road on the other
-side I shouted across the river—which was rising every minute—that
-he must not on any account attempt it, but must turn back and go round by
-the bridge. Of course he ought to have obeyed this order, and I am not
-going to say that he was wise in what he did; but safety would mean a
-détour of ten miles, and he knew not fear. It was from his breed that our
-Highland regiment got their recruits and more than one of our men had gone
-into the “Black Watch.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“I'll risk it,” he cried from the other side; and he made his preparations
-for the daring enterprise, while I, on my side, could say and do nothing
-more. All that remained for me was to watch, and, if it were possible, in
-case of things coming to the worst, to give such help as I could from the
-bank.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was a heavy two-wheeled cart he had, with one horse in the shafts and
-another before, tandem-wise, and this kind of team could not be driven
-from the cart. The driver must walk, holding the reins of the tandem horse
-in his right hand, and, if necessary, guiding the horse in the shafts with
-his left; and so they entered the stream.
-</p>
-<p>
-After the horses had gone a few yards into the water they wished to stop;
-for they had an instinct of danger, all the more because they were not
-free, but were strapped and chained, so that it would be almost impossible
-for them to save their lives by swimming. Jock chided and encouraged them,
-calling them by name, and they went in without any more hesitation; for
-horses are full of faith, and trust their driver absolutely if they know
-his voice and love him. Each of our men had a pair of horses under his
-charge; and so close was the tie between the men and their horses that the
-pair would come to their driver in the field when he called them by name,
-and would allow another plowman to handle them only under protest.
-</p>
-<p>
-Very carefully did Jock guide his team round the farther bend of the
-horseshoe, but when they reached the middle of the stream the water
-reached his waist and was lapping round his chest. Of course he could not
-have stood had it not been that he was on the upper side, and had the
-support of the shaft, to which he clung, still holding the reins of the
-foremost horse and the bridle of the other.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Take care, Jock! for any sake, take care, man!” I yelled from my bank. It
-was poor advice, but one had to say something as he looked on the man and
-the horses, more than half covered by the stream, so lonely and helpless.
-“You are at the turn now”; for we knew that the bend of the shoe was at
-the middle of the stream.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It's a' richt,” came back the brave, honest voice. “We'll win through”;
-and now Jock turned the leader's head up-stream, and the cart began to
-move round on the nearer turn of the horseshoe. Yes, they would win
-through, for surely the worst was past, and I jumped upon the bank for
-very joy, but ever watched the slightest movement, while every inch seemed
-a mile and every moment an hour.
-</p>
-<p>
-Alas! there was no end to the deceit and wickedness of that river; for,
-owing to some slight bend at a little distance higher up on the opposite
-bank, the current ran with its main strength, not in the middle of the
-channel, but toward the place where I was standing, and into a black deep
-just at my feet. It beat upon the cart, and as I looked I could see the
-cart begin to yield, and to be carried sidewise off the track of the ford.
-I shouted—I know not what now; I think the plowman's name—but
-Jock already had felt himself going with the cart as it turned round. He
-called upon his horses: “Pull up, Star! Steady, lass!”—this to the
-mare in his hand.
-</p>
-<p>
-The intelligent creatures answered to his voice and made a valiant effort,
-Star plunging forward, and the mare—a wise old beast—straining
-herself to recover the cart. For an instant the cart's further wheel was
-pulled on to the track, and I saw the cart once more level in the water;
-and again I shouted, calling both man and horses by their names. Then the
-river, afraid that she was to be spoiled of her prey, put out all her
-strength. The cart yields and sinks on the lower side and begins to turn
-over. It is off the ford now, and will pull the horses after it, and all
-that can be done is for Jock to let go the horses, who are now struggling
-in desperation, and to save his own life. He could swim, and was a
-powerful man, forty inches and more round the chest, and a fellow, if you
-please, to toss the hammer on a summer evening.
-</p>
-<p>
-“For God's sake, let go the horses, Jock, and make for the bank!” And I
-went to the edge where he was likely to come, and lying down upon my
-chest, I twisted one arm round a sturdy bush, and was ready with the other
-hand to catch Jock if he should be fighting his way through the current
-and come within reach of shore.
-</p>
-<p>
-By this time the horse in the shaft was fighting on the edge of the abyss,
-and only the top of one side-board of the cart could be seen, and the
-upper shaft, which was standing straight out of the water. Star was
-screaming with terror—and a horse's scream is a fearful sound—for
-if only he could be free of the two chains that fastened him to the shaft,
-he, a powerful young horse, would soon reach safety where the road came
-out from the ford through the banks, up the slope, to dry land. And Jock,
-forgetful of himself, was determined to give Star his chance for life—Star,
-whom he had broken in as a colt, and taught to take an oatmeal cake out of
-his pocket, of whom he boasted in the markets, and for whom he had bought
-little brass ornaments to wear on his forehead and chest. The mare was
-beyond redemption, and must perish with the cart; she was old, and had
-done her work. But Star must not be drowned. Already he has loosened the
-near chain and on one side Star is free, and now, in the midst of that
-wild hurly-burly of plunging horses, Jock, holding on to the projecting
-shaft with one hand, is reaching with the other underneath the neck of the
-mare, to free the other chain from the farther shaft.
-</p>
-<p>
-He succeeded, as I took it, at the very last moment; for Star, now on the
-brink, made a desperate effort, and, shaking himself free of all
-entanglement, swam into the quieter water, just above where I had hoped to
-meet his driver.
-</p>
-<p>
-In another minute Star was standing on the road, shaking in every limb,
-and hanging his head between his fore legs, with all the strength and
-bravery taken out of him.
-</p>
-<p>
-Before he reached the bank, the cart and the mare, and poor Jock with
-them, had been swept over the edge of the unseen ford into the deep water
-below. Had Jock been free of the cart and horse he might have made some
-fight for his life, even in that caldron; but, from the marks upon his
-body, we judged that he had been struck, just when he loosed the chain, by
-the iron hoofs of the mare in her agony, and had been rendered
-unconscious.
-</p>
-<p>
-Within a second, horse and cart and man had disappeared, and the cruel
-river had triumphed and was satisfied.
-</p>
-<p>
-Three days afterward we rescued his body from her grasp; and when we
-carried it up to the bothy where he and his mates had lived together, the
-roughest of them felt that this man had been a hero.
-</p>
-<p>
-No doubt he ought not to have dared so much; but having dared, he did not
-flinch. His duty was that of every driver—to stick to the last by
-his horses—and he did it to the uttermost.
-</p>
-<p>
-He was a rough man, Jock, who never read anything except the stories in
-the weekly newspaper which used to circulate in the bothies. There were
-times when Jock took a glass too much on a fair-day at Muirtown, and then
-he was inclined to fight. His language, also, was not suited for polite
-society, and his temper was not always under perfect control.
-</p>
-<p>
-Let me say it plainly: Jock was nothing but a Scots plowman, and all he
-did that day was to save the life, not of a child or of a man, but of a
-cart-horse worth about £50. It was, however, his bit of duty as Jock
-understood it; all he had to give was his life, and he gave it without
-hesitation and without fear.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XX.—NO RELEVANT OBJECTION
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>EXT to the election of a minister nothing stirred the parish of Thomgreen
-like an election of elders, and it may be truthfully said that the people
-were far more concerned about the men whom they appointed to this sacred
-office than about the man whom they sent to represent them in Parliament.
-The people had also a keen sense of the kind of man who was fit to be an
-elder, and there was many a farmer whom they would have cheerfully elected
-to any board, and in whose hands they would have trusted any amount of
-money, but whom they would never have dreamt of making an elder. Persons
-who were by no means careful about their own life, and one would not have
-supposed had any great concern about the character of the officers of the
-Christian Church, had yet a fixed idea, and a very sound one, about the
-qualifications for an elder; and if one of themselves had been proposed
-would have regarded the idea as an insult, not to them but to the Church.
-“Me an elder,” he would have said; “for ony sake be quiet; there maun be
-nae jokin' on sich subjects. When you and me are made elders the kirk had
-better be closed.” For the word elder was synonymous in Thorngreen, and,
-indeed, in every right-thinking parish, not only with morality and
-integrity, but with gravity and spirituality.
-</p>
-<p>
-No parish could expect to have many men who filled the conditions, and
-Thorngreen had a standing grievance that one man who was evidently an
-elder by arrangement of providence would not accept the office. Andrew
-Harris, of Rochally, as he was commonly called, after the name of his
-farm, was of ancient Thorngreen blood, since his forbears had worked land
-in the parish for many generations, and he himself had succeeded his
-father, who was also an elder for thirty years. There was no sounder
-farmer than Rochally, and what he had done by draining, limeing, and
-skilful seeding was known unto all men; no straighter man in a bargain,
-for the character of a young horse from Rochally was better than a written
-document; no friendlier man in the kirkyard on a Sunday or at Muirtown
-markets, and no more regular and attentive hearer in kirk. Beyond all
-that, the parish knew, although it never said such things, that Rochally
-was a religious man, who not only had worship in his house, with his men
-servants and his women servants present, but also worshipped God in all
-Christian living from year to year. He was also a man of substance, and if
-that could be got with other things, the parish preferred it in an elder,
-and he gave liberally to the Free Kirk, of which, indeed, he was the
-mainstay. If he was not married, and was never likely now to marry, it
-could not be helped, but there was nothing else wanting to make him the
-perfect model of an elder.
-</p>
-<p>
-As regularly as there was a meeting for the election of elders, which
-happened about every five years, the name of Mr. Andrew Harris, farmer of
-Rochally, was proposed and seconded, and about to be placed on the
-nomination form, when Rochally himself rose, and quietly but very firmly
-requested that his name be dropped, “for reasons which are sufficient to
-my own conscience.” And although three ministers in succession, and a
-generation of elders, had pleaded privately with Rochally, and had used
-every kind of argument, they could not move him from his position. His
-nomination was felt on each occasion to be a debt due to his character and
-to the spiritual judgment of the congregation; but the people had long ago
-despaired of his consent. Had they consulted his wishes they would never
-have mentioned his name; but, at any rate, he made a point of attending,
-and at once withdrawing. They were obstinate, and he was obstinate, and
-the event had become a custom at the election of elders in the Free Kirk.
-</p>
-<p>
-No one could even guess why Rochally refused office, and every one in the
-Free Kirk was a little sore that the best and most respected member on
-their roll should sit in his back seat Sunday after Sunday, and attend
-every week meeting, and give the largest subscriptions, and also gamer the
-utmost respect from without, and yet not be an elder. It was also felt
-that if his name could only be printed on the nomination paper and placed
-before the people, and the people unanimously elected him, as they would
-do, then it would be hard for him to refuse, and if he did refuse he would
-have to do what he had not done yet—give his reasons. If they could
-only hold the meeting without his being present, or if, by any innocent
-ruse, he could be kept from the meeting, then half the battle would be
-won; and that is how it came to pass that the minister and elders of
-Thomgreen Free Kirk stole a march upon Rochally. They had been thinking
-for some time of adding to the eldership, for Essendy, the father of the
-Session, had “won awa'” at eighty-seven, and Wester Mains could only sit
-on sunny days in the garden; and while they were turning the matter over
-in their minds—for nothing was done hurriedly in Thomgreen—it
-spread abroad that Rochally was going away for the unprecedented period of
-four weeks, partly to visit a sister's son who had risen to high position
-in England, and partly to try some baths for the mild rheumatism which was
-his only illness. It seemed a providential arrangement, and one which they
-must use wisely, and if anything could have been read on the severe
-countenances of Thomgreen, Rochally might have guessed that some
-conspiracy was afoot when he bade his brethren good-bye after Kirk one
-Sabbath.
-</p>
-<p>
-As soon as it was known that he had fairly departed, and as it was
-perfectly certain there could be no communication with him from his home
-except a weekly report of the briefest and most prosaic kind by the
-foreman, the Session (that is, the Court of Elders) was called together,
-and on two successive Sundays the people were summoned to a meeting for
-the nomination of elders. It was held on the Monday following the second
-Sunday, and was attended by almost the whole congregation. Six names were
-proposed for three vacancies, but, of course, the climax of the
-proceedings was the nomination of Mr. Andrew Harris, farmer at Rochally,
-and the insertion of his name on the paper of nomination. The nomination
-papers were given out on the following Sunday, and on the fourth and last
-Sunday of Rochally's absence were returned into the hands of the Session.
-Before he came home the Session had met, and as every single communicant,
-without exception, had voted for Mr. Andrew Harris, farmer at Rochally,
-the Session declared him elected, and when he sat in his pew on the
-following Sunday he heard the edict for the ordination of three elders on
-that day fortnight, and the first name was his own.
-</p>
-<p>
-It was creditable to the good manners of the people that though they held
-their breath at the critical moment, none of them looked even sideways to
-the pew where Rochally sat alone; but the minister's eye fell on him from
-the pulpit, and as he noticed Rochally start and flush, and grow pale,
-while a look of pain came over his face, the minister became anxious, and
-began to regret their well-intentioned plot. And when, according to the
-custom of the kirk, he announced that the aforesaid persons would be
-ordained this day fortnight, unless “some valid objection to their life
-and doctrine be stated to the Kirk Session at a meeting to be held for
-that purpose before the service on Wednesday evening,” and when, even at
-that distance, he could see Rochally's hand tighten upon the door of his
-pew and his head fall forward upon his breast for an instant, as if he
-were in pain, he almost wished that they had not meddled with the secret
-affairs of a man's life. The minister was not surprised when Rochally did
-not call at the manse on Monday or Tuesday to say that he could not accept
-the election, although that was within his power, and he was not
-surprised, although much grieved, when he saw Rochally standing in the
-shadow of the trees not far from the vestry where the Kirk Session met.
-Although he had not the faintest idea of the reason, he was now afraid of
-what was going to happen, and the elders, as they came in one by one,
-having passed Rochally, who stood apart among the trees, and gave no sign
-of recognition, were uneasy, and had a sense of calamity. They knew
-nothing either, and were not able even to imagine anything; but they also,
-having seen Rochally and caught a faint glimpse of his face, would fain
-have burned the nomination papers, and cancelled the whole election.
-</p>
-<p>
-The court was opened with prayer, in which the minister was very earnest
-that they should be all guided by the Spirit of God and know His will. And
-then the minutes were read, wherein the names of those elected were
-mentioned, after which the minister declared the time had arrived for
-receiving objections to the life and doctrine of the aforesaid persons,
-and the beadle, being summoned from the dark kirk where he had been
-sitting, was commanded to do his duty. Thereupon, having opened the outer
-door of the vestry, as being a public place, he looked into the darkness,
-and called upon any persons who could make valid objection to the life or
-doctrine of Andrew Harris, farmer at Rochally, that he should not be
-ordained an elder, to come forward and declare the same. Many a time had
-the beadle made this challenge, and never before had it been answered, but
-now, out from the darkness, came Rochally himself, and entered the vestry.
-For a moment he was dazzled by the light of the lamp, though it was never
-very bright, and as he stood before the Session he passed his hand over
-his face. Then he stepped forward to the table, and, leaning heavily on it
-with one hand, Rochally unveiled his secret.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Moderator and Elders of the Kirk, I stand here in answer to your
-commandment, and in obedience to my own conscience, to give you strong
-reasons why Andrew Harris should never be ordained an elder in Christ's
-Kirk, and why he is not worthy even to take the sacrament.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I ken well that my brethren have often wondered why I wouldna allow my
-name to be mentioned for the eldership, and I have often feared that they
-judged me as one who despised the call of the kirk, and wouldna put his
-hand to the plough. If they did so, they were wrang, for God knows how I
-have honoured and loved the Church, and He knows how glad and proud a man
-I would have been to carry the vessels of the Lord. But I dauma, I dauma.
-</p>
-<p>
-“It micht have been better if I had told the reason years ago, and saved
-mysel' and the brethren much trouble; but it is hard for the Scots heart
-to open itsel', and a man is jealous of his secret.' Maybe I sinned in not
-confessing to the kirk in this place as I did elsewhere, and as I
-confessed to my God. Gin it be so, I have suffered, and now the Lord's
-hand is heavy upon me.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Lang years ago,” and the strong man trembled, but no elder so much as
-lifted his eyes, “I lived for a year, although none here will mind of it,
-in another parish, where my father had a farm, and there, when I was a
-young man, though no one here knows of it, being careless in my walk and
-conversation, and resisting the Grace of God, I fell, and sinned against
-the law of Moses and of Christ.
-</p>
-<p>
-“What the sin was it matters not now; but it was a great sin, such as
-nothing but the blude o' Christ can cleanse away, and the guilt of it was
-heavy upon my soul. God was merciful unto me, and His Spirit moved me to
-that repentance which needeth not to be repented of. Sic reparation as I
-could make I made, and them that were injured I satisfied; but I have
-never been satisfied. They're all dead now that had to do with it, long
-before they died they had forgotten it; but I have never forgotten it, and
-the long years have never wiped it from my memory.
-</p>
-<p>
-“There's ae man I envy every day, and mair the nicht than ever; no the man
-who is rich and powerful, na, na, it is the man whose life is clean and
-white fra his boyhood until this hour, who can turn over the pages and let
-every man look on. One chapter o' my life I read alone every day, and it
-canna be blotted out from before my eyes. Their hands maun be dean which
-bear the vessels of the Lord, and my hands arena clean; wherefore I take
-objection, being a true witness against the life of Andrew Harris, and
-declare he is not fit to be an elder of the kirk.”
- </p>
-<p>
-While Rochally was still standing, the minister knelt down, and the elders
-with him; but Rochally stood, and the minister began to pray. First of
-all, he confessed the sins of their youth and of later years till every
-man's soul lay bare before his own eyes and the eyes of God, then he
-carried them all, their lives and their sins, unto the Cross of Calvary,
-and magnified before God the sacrifice for sin and the dying love of the
-Saviour, and then he lifted up their souls in supplication unto God upon
-His Throne, and besought the Judge of all, for Christ's sake, to cast
-their transgressions behind His back and into the depths of the sea; and,
-finally, he besought God to grant unto them all the assurance of His mercy
-and the peace which passeth all understanding to possess their hearts and
-minds in Christ Jesus. But he made no mention of Rochally or Rochally's
-sin, so that one would have supposed it was the minister and the elders,
-and not Andrew Harris, who were at the Bar.
-</p>
-<p>
-When they rose from their knees more than one elder was weeping, and every
-man's face was white and serious, and still Rochally stood as if he
-desired to go, but was not able till the minister gave the decision of the
-court. The Spirit of the Holy Ministry, which is the most awful office
-upon earth, and the most solemn, descended in special measure upon the
-minister, a man still young and inexperienced, but who was now coming out
-from the holy place of the Most High.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Andrew Harris, I ask you, in the name of the Kirk whom the Lord loved and
-washed from her sins in His own blood, lovest thou the Lord Jesus Christ?”
- Then the minister and the elders faded from before Rochally's eyes, and
-the faithful, honest man who had sinned so long ago, and wept so bitterly,
-stood face to face with the Master.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Lord,” said he, for the first time lifting up his head, “Thou knowest all
-things; Thou knowest that I love Thee.”
- </p>
-<p>
-It was after midnight when the minister wrote out the minute of that
-meeting, and it states that an objection was taken to the life of Andrew
-Harris; but the Session ruled that it was not relevant, in which ruling
-the objector acquiesced, and the Session therefore appointed that Andrew
-Harris, farmer at Rochally, be ordained on the day appointed to the office
-of elder in the Free Kirk of Thomgreen.
-</p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XXI.—WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN Carmichael was Free Kirk minister of Dramtochty, and in the days of
-his youth, he had casual ways, and went at his own free will. He never
-came across the moor behind his manse on a summer day, and entered the
-cool pine wood which separated it from the ploughed land, without sitting
-down beside a certain pool of a burn which ran through the fringe of the
-wood. Because the water broke over a little rock and then gathered in a
-cup of gravel, and there was a heather bank where he could he as
-comfortably as in his favourite study chair, which had seen the Rebellion,
-but had changed its covering as well as its creed more than once since
-then; because the Highland cattle came to drink at that pool if you were
-not fussy and suspicious; and because all the sounds of the moor—the
-bleating of the sheep, the cry of the grouse, and the wail of the whaup
-and the drone of the bees—mingled in one music, and fell pleasantly
-upon your ear. “For five minutes only,” he said to himself, and then some
-Highland cows, with their absurd little calves, arrived, and would have
-considered it ill-mannered for him to rise; and he fell a-thinking while
-time flew. He rose with a start and hurried down to the main road, and
-made for the bridge over the Tochty, fearful lest he should be too late
-when the messenger came with momentous tidings from the telegraph office
-at Kildrummie.
-</p>
-<p>
-For two years the Glen had been in the most delightful state of
-intellectual ferment, and it was freely said by those who could remember
-that conversation had not risen to such a high level for fifty years, not
-even during '43. It goes without saying that the subject which exercised
-the minds and tongues of the Glen had to do, not with markets, but with
-Kirks; and while many had feared that the golden age of the Disruption
-would never be repeated in Drumtochty, when children were taught the
-doctrine of spiritual independence as they were supping their porridge,
-and women spoke freely about the principle of “Coordinate Jurisdiction
-with Mutual Subordination” as they hoed turnips in the fields, even Jamie
-Soutar was compelled to allow that the present debate had points of
-excellence altogether its own. While the spirit of disruption had
-wonderfully sharpened the edge of the intellect, the new spirit of concord
-which was abroad had still more powerfully quickened the feelings of the
-heart. By the fireside, where the guidwife darned the stockings and the
-guidman read the <i>Muirtown Advertiser</i> from the first word of the
-advertisements to the last word of the printer's name, out at work where
-they were planting potatoes or reaping the com, on the way to market as
-they walked down to Kildrummie station on Friday morning or crammed
-themselves by fives and sixes into Hillocks' dog-cart, but most of all in
-the kirkyard or at the Free Kirk door, men and women had been discussing
-with unswerving honesty and amazing subtlety, but with great goodwill and
-eager longing, how the differences between the Free Kirk and the
-Established could be reconciled, and upon what terms of honour and
-self-respect they could be united so that there should be again one Kirk
-in Scotland, as in the former days. According to the light which
-Providence had been pleased to give to other parishes, which was as
-twilight to the sunlight of Drum-tochty, they also argued this great
-affair, till even Kildrummie had pronounced ideas on the subject; and
-Rabbi Saunderson, the minister of Kilbogie, had announced a course of
-twenty-five sermons on the “Principle of Unity in the Christian Church,
-considered biblically, theologically, historically, and experimentally.”
- The ecclesiastics on both sides had not regarded the movement with
-conspicuous favour, and, while stating that the end in view was not only
-admirable but one they had always desired, they felt it their duty to
-point out difficulties. They mentioned so many, indeed, and expounded them
-so faithfully, that it would not have been wonderful if the people had
-lost heart and abandoned a hopeless enterprise; for as a rule it had been
-the ecclesiastics who spoke and the people who kept silence; the
-ecclesiastics who passed measures and the people who paid for them. This
-time, however, the younger ministers had taken the matter into their own
-hands, and refused to serve themselves heirs to past controversies or to
-bind themselves to perpetuate ancient divisions; they were men of another
-age, and intended to face the new situation. There had been enough
-dividing in Scotland since the days of the Covenanters; it was time there
-should be some uniting, and when they were at it they wanted
-thorough-going and final union. And the people, who in every country
-parish had, Sabbath after Sabbath for more than a generation, passed one
-another in opposite directions going to their kirks, began to inquire why
-they should not all go in one direction and meet under one roof as their
-fathers had done; and when people began to ask that question, both with
-their heads and with their hearts, it was bound to be answered in one way.
-</p>
-<p>
-The ecclesiastics had yielded under pressure, and as Carmichael went down
-to the bridge he recalled, with a keen sense of humour, their marvellous
-proceedings and the masterly game which had been played by the
-diplomatists of the Kirks, their suave expressions of brotherly love,
-their shrewd foresight of every move, their sleepless watchfulness of one
-another, their adroit concessions which yielded nothing, their childlike
-proposals which would have gained everything, and their cheerful
-acquiescence in every delay. But the temper of the people was not to be
-trifled with, and if the young party among the clergy were not skilled in
-the wiles of Church Courts, they had considerable vigour of speech, and
-the managers of affairs were given to understand that they must bring
-things quickly to a head. Early last spring the leader of the Free Kirk
-had submitted his terms, which the Established Kirk men studied together
-for three days and then read in seven different ways, and they in turn
-submitted their proposals, which were so simple and direct that the great
-Free Kirk man was genuinely disappointed, and wished that it had been his
-lot to negotiate with a Roman cardinal. But the people were getting
-impatient, and when the Assemblies met in the end of May, the pleasant
-spring-time, the terms had been adjusted, and Carmichael ran over them as
-he came down the near road through Hillocks' farm and pronounced them
-good. That the Free Church and the Established should unite together; that
-its legal title should be the Church of Scotland; that it should retain
-the ancient endowments and all the accumulated funds of both the former
-Churches; that the newly-constituted Church of Scotland should cease its
-legal connexion with the State, but maintain the old parochial system;
-that the new Church should re-arrange its resources so as to meet every
-religious and moral want in Scotland, and work with the State for the
-well-being of the Scots Commonwealth. The motions were proposed about the
-same time in the two Assemblies, in speeches worthy of the occasion: in
-the Established Kirk by a Scots noble; in the Free Kirk by the ablest
-ecclesiastical statesman of his day; Carmichael was thankful that he was
-in the Free Kirk Assembly when the motion was carried, with tears and
-cheers, none objecting, and that he was in time, with a fearful struggle,
-to get his head within the door of the Tolbooth, when the ministers and
-elders of the Established Kirk stood up as one man at the bidding of their
-moderator, and before Her Majesty's Lord High Commissioner, and declared
-for union; and thankful that he was one of the crowd that poured out of
-both Assemblies in the High Street of Edinburgh and heard the bells of St.
-Giles, which had been the witness of many a fierce conflict, ringing out
-the news of peace and concord through the grey capital of the nation.
-</p>
-<p>
-There was still one risk to be run and one barrier to be surmounted, for
-the concordat of the Church required the sanction of Parliament. Through
-the summer days the battle had been fought in the lobbies and committee
-rooms of the House of Commons, and that afternoon it was to be decided;
-and up to the last there was a chance that the bill might be thrown out,
-and the heart's desire of Scotland once more refused at Westminster. For
-there were cross-currents which no man could calculate; there were stiff
-old Tories who hated the idea of the Church being disestablished; keen
-Radicals who were determined that the Church should be also disendowed;
-Episcopalians who were eager that the title of the Church of Scotland
-should be left open to be claimed by that respectable, though limited,
-dissenting community, which traces its descent through Archbishop Sharpe
-and John Graham of Claverhouse; and a balance of men who disliked all
-Churches equally, and were always ready to hinder religion, when they
-could get an opportunity. If the bill were thrown out it would be a sad
-calamity, and Lord Kilspindie had promised to telegraph to Dr. Davidson
-the moment the bill passed the Commons; for it had been taken first in the
-Lords (and carried with a brisk fight), and Carmichael proposed to meet
-the messenger at Tochty bridge, and escort him to the manse.
-</p>
-<p>
-It did not, however, surprise Carmichael to find the minister of the
-parish of Drumtochty walking to and fro on the level ground from which the
-wonderful arch of the ancient bridge sprang, and talking affably with
-Hillocks on the prospects of harvest, but keeping all the time a watchful
-eye on the distant point on the other side of the Glen where the road
-emerged from the pine woods and the Kildrummie messenger would first be
-seen.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Glad to see you, Carmichael,” said the doctor, with just the faintest
-suggestion of excitement in his manner; “I left a message at the manse
-that if you called they were to send you down to the bridge, but I rather
-suspected you would be here. For myself, I frankly confess I could neither
-sit nor read, so I just turned out to wait for the messenger. It's a
-historical day, Carmichael, charged with great issues for Scotland.”
- </p>
-<p>
-They climbed the stiff ascent, and stood on the arch through which the
-Tochty ran, clear and sparkling, that summer evening.
-</p>
-<p>
-“More than a century of Scots history has run since this bridge was built,
-some of it sad enough; but, please God, we shall see good days before they
-build the new bridge. What hinders the messenger? Kilspindie expected to
-telegraph by five at latest, and now it's six o'clock.” The doctor snuffed
-uneasily and wiped his eye-glasses. “I wish I had gone down to Kildrummie.
-What's that, Carmichael, on the crest of the hill? Your eyes are quicker
-than mine.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“It's a man on horseback, and we'll soon know who he is, for he's riding
-hard. I should recognize that horse. Why, it's Macfarlane's chestnut that
-brings me up from the station in forty minutes and something to spare, and
-Macfarlane's riding her himself. If the old chap hasn't saddled a horse
-and ridden up to bring us the news post-haste! Isn't he going! He would
-never come that speed if it were bad news. They've let it out at the post
-office, as sure as we're standing here; and, look, Macfarlane has seen us.
-He's waving his hat, doctor; the bill has passed, and the Kirks are one.”
- They went down the other side of the bridge, and Carmichael did not look
-at Dr. Davidson, for the doctor's stately step was broken, and he was
-again polishing his eyeglasses. The chestnut was covered with dust, and so
-was Macfarlane, and the mare herself seemed to be triumphant when
-Macfarlane reined her in on the other side of the bridge.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Half expeckit to see you here, gentlemen,” for even Macfarlane, dealer in
-horses, in coals, in manure, and hirer of carriages, was discomposed.
-“Message came in at 6.48; had the mare ready; left at 6.60; done the three
-miles in thirteen and a half minutes”—all this in one breath; then,
-jumping off his horse and taking off his hat, “A telegram for you, Dr.
-Davidson.”
- </p>
-<p>
-He patted the chestnut on the neck for her good going, and tried to look
-as if he did not know what was in the envelope. Dr. Davidson handed the
-envelope to Carmichael, who understood the reason, and, stripping it off,
-handed him the message.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Quiet, lass, quiet!” said Macfarlane. Carmichael straightened himself,
-and raised his hand to that weather-beaten soft hat of his, which was the
-scandal of the Presbytery; the doctor unfolded the paper with a shaking
-hand, a flush passed over his face, the tears—which already were in
-his eyes—broke and rolled down his face, and he read out with a
-trembling voice—“Bill carried by a majority of two hundred and
-thirty-three. God bless the Kirk of Scotland, one again and for ever!—Kilspindie.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Hip, hip, hurrah!” Carmichael was very young, but Macfarlane might have
-known better, who was waving his cap with one hand and holding the dancing
-mare with the other; while Hillocks was a spectacle of glory, standing on
-the summit of the bridge and throwing in a hoarse shout. Dr. Davidson took
-no part in the cheer, for he had turned aside and was looking to the hill
-where the Parish Kirk peeped out from the trees, and there were many
-thoughts in his mind.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Dr. Davidson,” said Carmichael, still holding his hat in his hand, and
-tuning his voice to affectionate respect, “you are minister this day unto
-every man in the parish of Drumtochty, and you will add to all your past
-kindnesses by letting me be your faithful assistant.”
- </p>
-<p>
-The old man took Carmichael's hand in both his own, but for once he could
-find no words.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Ye saw them gang oot, doctor, and ye'll see them come back,” said
-Hillocks, descending from the top of the bridge.
-</p>
-<p>
-“I honoured them when they went out,” replied the doctor, finding speech
-again, “and I love them coming back to their old Kirk.” It was agreed
-between Carmichael and the doctor that half an hour from that time the
-bells of the two kirks should be rung, and though neither bell dominated
-more than the distance of three fields, Dr. Davidson declared that the
-Free Church bell was distinctly audible in the kirkyard; while a group of
-Free Kirk men gathered round their door remarked to one another that they
-had never noticed before how sweet was the sound of the Old Kirk bell. And
-they were speaking true, for the bells were ringing in their hearts. While
-Parliament had been deliberating on the bill, the two Kirks had been
-making their arrangements in faith for the uniting of congregations, and
-it had already been determined that Dr. Davidson and Carmichael should be
-joint ministers of the parish of Drumtochty, and that the congregations
-should worship in the Parish Kirk. When there was a will in Drumtochty
-there was always a way, and arrangements were quickly made that the parish
-should gather again on the following Sabbath into the kirk where their
-fathers had worshipped, and round which the dust of generations lay. At
-eleven o'clock the Free Church congregation met for the last time as a
-separate flock, in the building which they had erected with great
-sacrifice, and which was sanctified by many sacred memories; and then,
-after Carmichael had conducted a short service, and Donald Menzies, one of
-the elders, had offered up a prayer of thanksgiving wherein he carried the
-congregation with him to the Mercy Seat, and moved even the stiffest, they
-sang the second Paraphrase, “O God of Bethel! by whose hand,” and
-Carmichael pronounced the benediction, with more than one pause between
-the words. Then they went out through the door by which, more than a
-generation ago, the congregation had entered, obeying their conscience,
-and testifying for the freedom of Christ's Kirk. Without any marshalling
-or vain ceremony they fell into a procession, and this was the order in
-which they went. First came Carmichael in his gown and bands, his M.A.
-hood and college cap, carrying in his hand his mother's Bible, and beside
-him Bumbrae, Donald Menzies, Lauchlan Campbell, and the other elders, all
-dressed as for the Sacrament. Behind them followed the choir, and then the
-people as they pleased, family by family, parents and children together.
-Thrice on the road they broke into singing, and these were the Psalms they
-sang—the xcviii.—
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“O sing a new song to the Lord,
-For wonders He hath done:
-His right hand and His holy arm
-Him victory hath won”;
-</pre>
-<p>
-and the lxxxiv.—
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“How lovely is Thy dwelling-place,
-O Lord of hosts, to me!
-The tabernacles of Thy grace
-How pleasant, Lord, they be!”
- </pre>
-<p>
-and the cxxxiii.—
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“Behold, how good a thing it is,
-And how becoming well,
-Together such as brethren are
-In unity to dwell!”
- </pre>
-<p>
-They began to sing this Psalm as they were ascending the height on which
-the Parish Kirk stood, and when they reached the top of the hill the sound
-of the Psalm was still in the air. Then Carmichael and the elders beheld a
-heartening spectacle. Dr. Davidson and, his people had also met for
-worship in their kirk, and, being told by a swift messenger that their
-brethren were at hand, they had come out through the kirkyard and ranged
-themselves in two rows along the roadside; while in the centre of the high
-road, and in front of his people, stood the parish minister, with his
-ruling elder, Drum-sheugh, by his side. The two ministers faced one
-another, and the people stood perfectly still; the glorious sunshine
-poured down upon their heads, and on either side the fields were golden
-unto the harvest. Clear but tender was Dr. Davidson's voice. “Reverend and
-dearly-beloved brother, I greet you, your elders, and your congregation in
-the name of the Lord, and, as senior minister of this parish, I bid you
-welcome to the Kirk of Drumtochty.”
- </p>
-<p>
-And then Carmichael—“Reverend and honoured father in the Gospel of
-our Lord Jesus Christ, my people and I thank God that there is now one
-congregation in Drumtochty, and that you are our minister.”
- </p>
-<p>
-Drumsheugh grasped Bumbrae's hand, but what passed between those two
-worthy men no one heard, and then Dr. Davidson and Carmichael headed the
-united procession, with the elders behind them; and as they moved down the
-sideway between the hedges, the Old Kirk folk fell in with the Free Kirk,
-so that they passed through the kirkyard one united company, and as they
-went they sang the Psalm cxxii.—
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“I joy'd when to the house of God,
-Go up, they said to me.
-Jerusalem, within thy gates
-Our feet shall standing be.”
- </pre>
-<p>
-And by a happy coincidence they were singing the last words as the
-ministers and elders went in through the door—
-</p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“Now, for my friends' and brethren's sakes,
-Peace be in thee, I'll say.
-And for the house of God our Lord,
-I'll seek thy good alway.”
- </pre>
-<p>
-It had been arranged between them, who were indeed as father and son, that
-Dr. Davidson should take the service and Carmichael should preach the
-sermon, and when the people were all seated, neither Established nor Free
-now, but all Scots Kirk men with one heart, one faith, one love, Dr.
-Davidson gave out another of the glorious Psalms, whose ancient traditions
-and wealth of spiritual emotion had served the people so well that day.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Let us worship God this day, and sing unto the praise of His glorious
-name Psalm cxxvi.”
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-“When Sion's bondage God turn'd back,
-As men that dream'd were we.”
- </pre>
-<p>
-But he was not able to read further, and the congregation, who understood,
-and whose own hearts were full, broke into the singing; and at the noise
-thereof Carmichael awoke, for it was only a dream.
-</p>
-<p>
-“What might have been,” he said to himself, with wistful regret, as he
-descended the hill, and then his heart lifted, “and, please God, what is
-going to be before my day is done.”
- </p>
-<p>
-<br /><br />
-</p>
-<hr />
-<p>
-<a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a>
-</p>
-<div style="height: 4em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-<h2>
-XXII.—THE VISION OF THE SOUL
-</h2>
-<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HERE were many modest homes in the Glen, but the humblest of them all was
-that of Bell Robb, where she lived with Jean, her sister, and blind
-Marjorie. It had only one room, and that had only one window. A tall man
-could stand upright only in the centre, and the hearth was so near the top
-of the chimney that it was a fight in the winter time between the fire and
-the snow, and the snow used to win the battle before morning. There was a
-box bed at the back of the room where Bell and Jean slept, and the
-lowliest of little beds just below the window had been Marjorie's home
-night and day for many a long year, because she had not only been blind
-from her birth, but since middle age had also been paralyzed. There was a
-table and two chairs, and a dresser on which the humble stock of crockery
-was carefully displayed. From above the fireplace the humblest of oil
-lamps, called a cruizie, projected, but the cottage had two brass
-candlesticks which were never used, but were polished like unto fine gold
-and were the glory of the home.
-</p>
-<p>
-If providence had been unkind to any person in the Glen it was to
-Marjorie, for her birth had been a tragedy, and the helpless child, blind
-and feeble, had been flung upon the world. She had never known father or
-mother, she had never seen the primroses in the Tochty woods when spring
-made her first visit, nor the purple of the heather in autumn time, nor
-the golden com in the field before her door, nor the sunshine upon the
-Burn down below. She had no kinsfolk to take charge of her, she had no
-claim upon any one except the poor law authorities, and had she been bom
-into a parish like Kilbogie the workhouse had been her only asylum. But it
-was a kindly little world into which this poor waif and stray had come—a
-world which had not many words nor much money, whose ways were curious and
-whose manner was austere, but whose heart was big and warm. Drumtochty had
-its laws of public policy which Government itself was never able to
-over-ride, which every man and woman in the Glen set themselves to
-enforce. And one was that no native of the Glen should ever be sent to the
-coldness and bondage of a workhouse; that however poor he might be and
-however long he lived, he must be kept in the shelter of our pine woods
-where he could see the Tochty run. As a matter of fact, this was not so
-great a burden on the neighbours, for Drumtochty folk had a rooted
-objection, which not even the modern spirit creeping up into the Glen
-could overcome, against being paupers or depending on any person save on
-themselves and God. Drumtochty had no pity for wastrels and very little
-sympathy with shiftless people, but Marjorie, poor Marjorie, she had the
-spirit to work—we judged she had about the highest spirit in the
-Glen—but what could she do without sight and with her trembling
-hands? So the Glen adopted Marjorie, and declared in wayside talk and many
-a kirkyard conference that she had given them more than they had ever
-given to her.
-</p>
-<p>
-Bell Robb and Jean, her sister, earned their living by hoeing turnips,
-lifting potatoes, binding at harvest and gathering the stones off the
-field—which were ever coming up to the surface in our poor thin soil—and
-they made between them on an average from January to December nearly
-twelve shillings a week. They declared that being two solitary women
-providence had intended they should have Marjorie, and now for thirty
-years she had been with them, and they spent upon her twice as much as
-they received in grants from the parish inspector, and declared with
-brazen effrontery that they were making a little fortune out of her. They
-also gave sixpence a month to the sustentation fund of the Free Kirk, and
-a shilling at a great collection, and if there was any little presentation
-in the Glen they had a shilling for that also. How they did those things
-was only known to God. Their faces were lined by labour and burned brown
-by the sun, but they looked well in the light of the Sacrament, for they
-were partakers of the Lord's Cross; their hands were rough and hard with
-field labour, but very gentle and kindly when they waited upon Marjorie.
-And when Marjorie began to relate the catalogue of her blessings, she
-always put next to her Saviour Bell and her sister Jean. The two sisters
-have had their humble funeral years ago, and their tired bodies with
-Marjorie's body of humiliation were laid to rest in the old kirkyard, and
-theirs was then the reward of Him who said, “I was a stranger and ye took
-me in.” Drumsheugh, returning from Muirtown market one afternoon by road,
-dropped in to pass the time o' day with Marjorie—leaving half a
-pound of tea upon the dresser—and was arrested by the humility of
-her bed. He was overheard saying “Sall” to himself as he returned to the
-main road with the tone of a man who had come to a resolution, and next
-Friday he drove up from Muirtown with a small iron bedstead, arranged in
-parts over his dogcart, while he sat with dignity upon the mattress. The
-installation of Marjorie into her new couch was the event of her life, and
-for weeks the Glen dropped in, partly to see Drumsheugh's amazing gift,
-but chiefly to hear Marjorie on his unparalleled kindness and its
-unparalleled splendour. She had felt it over inch by inch, and knew the
-pattern to a turn, but she was chiefly concerned that her visitors should
-observe and rightly appreciate the brass knobs at the four corners.
-</p>
-<p>
-“Drumsheugh micht have got an ordinary bed for half the money, but
-naething wud sateesfy him but brass knobs. Ye may say that I canna see
-them, but I can feel them, and I ken that they're there, and the
-neighbours see them, and to think o't that I'm lying here like a queen on
-a spring bed with four brass knobs. And me that has no claim on Drumsheugh
-or ony other body, juist crowned wi' loving kindness. I'll need to ask
-grace to be kept humble.”
- </p>
-<p>
-According to Marjorie indeed her whole life had been arranged on the
-principle of Drumsheugh's giving: instead of iron she had received brass,
-yea, much fine gold, and all things had worked together for her good. When
-her minister Carmichael forgot himself one day and pitied her for her
-afflictions she was amazed, and had to remind herself that he had only
-come to the Glen. For was it not her helplessness that had won her so much
-love, so that from high Glen Urtarch down to the borders of Kilbogie every
-man, woman and child was her friend, dropping in to see her, bringing her
-all the news, and making her so many little presents that she was “fair
-ashamed”? And she reminded John Carmichael that if she, Marjorie, had been
-an able-bodied woman, he would not have paid her so many visits, nor told
-her so many “bonny stories.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“Mr. Carmichael, I'll have much to answer for, for I've been greatly
-blessed. I judge masel' the maist priveeleged woman in Drumtochty.” And
-then Carmichael, who had his own troubles and discontentments, used to go
-away a wiser and a better man.
-</p>
-<p>
-Marjorie saw the hand of an all,-wise and all-loving Providence in the
-arrangements of her home. For one thing it faced south, and she got the
-warmth and the shining of the sun through her little window, and there was
-an advantage in the door opening straight from the garden into the room,
-for the scent of the flowers came in to her bed, and she knew when the
-wallflowers had begun to bloom and when the first rosebud above the
-doorway had opened. She would have liked very well to have gone to the
-Kirk with a goodly company, but lying alone on her bed through the hours
-of service she had time for prayer, and I have heard her declare that the
-time was too short for her petitions. “For, ye see, I have sae mony
-friends to remember, and my plan is to begin at the top of the Glen and
-tak' them family by family till I come to the end of the parish. And wud
-ye believe it, I judge that it takes me four complete days to bring a' the
-fowk I love before the Throne of Grace.”
- </p>
-<p>
-As for her darkness of earthly sight, this, she insisted, was the chief
-good which God had bestowed upon her, and she made out her case with the
-ingenuity of a faithful and contented heart.
-</p>
-<p>
-“If I dinna see”—and she spoke as if this was a matter of doubt and
-she were making a concession for argument's sake—“there's naebody in
-the Glen can hear like me. There's no a footstep of a Drum-tochty man
-comes to the door but I ken his name, and there's no a voice oot on the
-road that I canna tell. The birds sing sweeter to me than to onybody else,
-and I can hear them cheeping to one another in the bushes before they go
-to sleep. And the flowers smell sweeter to me—the roses and the
-carnations and the bonny moss rose—and I judge that the oatcake and
-milk taste the richer because I dinna see them. Na, na, ye're no to think
-that I've been ill treated by my God, for if He didna give me ae thing, He
-gave me mony things instead.
-</p>
-<p>
-“And mind ye, it's no as if I'd seen once and lost my sight; that micht
-ha' been a trial, and my faith micht have failed. I've lost naething; my
-life has been all getting.”
- </p>
-<p>
-And she said confidentially one day to her elder, Donald Menzies—
-</p>
-<p>
-“There's a mercy waitin' for me that'll crown a' His goodness, and I'm
-feared when I think o't, for I'm no worthy.”
- </p>
-<p>
-“What iss that that you will be meaning, Marjorie,” said the elder.
-</p>
-<p>
-“He has covered my face with His hand as a father plays with his bairn,
-but some day sune He will lift His hand, and the first thing that Marjorie
-sees in a' her life will be His ain face.”
- </p>
-<p>
-And Donald Menzies declared to Bumbrae on the way home that he would
-gladly go blind all the days of his life if he were as sure of that sight
-when the day broke and the shadows fled away.
-</p>
-<div style="height: 6em;">
-<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
-</div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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