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diff --git a/49342-8.txt b/49342-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index fa117b9..0000000 --- a/49342-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12005 +0,0 @@ - THE STICKIT MINISTER'S WOOING - - - - -This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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 -http://www.gutenberg.org/license. If you are not located in the United -States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are -located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Stickit Minister's Wooing - and Other Galloway Stories -Author: S. R. Crockett -Release Date: July 01, 2015 [EBook #49342] -Language: English -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STICKIT MINISTER'S WOOING -*** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - - - *THE* - - *STICKIT MINISTER'S WOOING* - - *AND OTHER GALLOWAY STORIES* - - - By - - *S. R. CROCKETT* - - - - LONDON - HODDER AND STOUGHTON - PATERNOSTER ROW - MCM - - - - - _Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury._ - - - - - _To - The Well-Beloved Memory - of_ - - _R. L. S._ - - _to whom, eight years ago, I - dedicated the first series of - the "Stickit Minister" stories_ - - - - -Eight years ago "The Stickit Minister" stood friendless without the door -of letters. He knew no one within, and feared greatly lest no hand of -welcome should be held out to him from those already within, so that, -being encouraged, he too might pluck up heart of grace to enter. - -Yet when the time came, the Stickit One found not one, but two right -hands outstretched to greet him, which, after all, is as many as any man -may grasp at once. One was reached out to me from far-away Samoa. The -other belonged to a man whom, at that time, I knew only as one of the -most thoughtful, sympathetic, and brilliant of London journalists, but -who has since become my friend, and at whose instance, indeed, this -Second Series of "The Stickit Minister" stories has been written. To -these two men, the London man of letters and the Samoan exile, I owe the -first and greatest of an author's literary debts--that of a first -encouragement. - -They were both men I had never seen; and neither was under any -obligation to help me. Concerning the former, still strenuously and -gallantly at work among us, I will in this place say nothing further. -But, after having kept silence for eight years lest I should appear as -one that vaunted himself, I may be permitted a word of that other who -sleeps under the green tangle of Vaea Mountain. - -Mr. Stevenson and I had been in occasional communication since about the -year 1886, when, in a small volume of verse issued during the early part -of that year, the fragment of a "Transcript from the Song of Songs, -which is Solomon's," chanced to attract his attention. He wrote -immediately, with that beautiful natural generosity of appreciation of -his, to ask the author to finish his translation in verse, and to -proceed to other dramatic passages, some of which, chiefly from Isaiah -and Job, he specified. I remember that "When the morning stars sang -together" was one of those indicated, and "O, thou afflicted, tossed -with tempest and not comforted," another. "I have tried my hand at them -myself," he added kindly; "but they were not so good as your Shulamite." - -After this he made me more than once the channel of his practical -charity to certain poor miner folk, whom disaster had rendered homeless -and penniless on the outskirts of his beloved Glencorse. - -A year or two afterwards, having in the intervals of other work written -down certain countryside stories, which managed to struggle into print -in rather obscure corners, I collected these into a volume, under the -title of "The Stickit Minister and Some Common Men." Then after the -volume was through the press, in a sudden gulp of venturesomeness I -penned a dedication. - - TO - - Robert Louis Stevenson - - OF SCOTLAND AND SAMOA, - I DEDICATE THESE STORIES OF THAT - GREY GALLOWAY LAND - WHERE - ABOUT THE GRAVES OF THE MARTYRS - THE WHAUPS ARE CRYING-- - HIS HEART REMEMBERS HOW. - - -Still much fearing and trembling, how needlessly I guessed not then, I -packed up and despatched a copy to Samoa. Whereupon, after due -interval, there came back to these shores a letter--the sense of which -reached me deviously--not to myself but to his friend, Mr. Sidney -Colvin. "If I could only be buried in the hills, under the heather, and -a table tombstone like the martyrs; 'where the whaups and plovers are -crying!' Did you see a man who wrote 'The Stickit Minister,' and -dedicated it to me, in words that brought the tears to my eyes every -time I looked at them? 'Where about the graves of the martyrs the -whaups are crying--his heart remembers how.' Ah, by God, it does! -Singular that I should fulfil the Scots destiny throughout, and live a -voluntary exile and have my head filled with the blessed, beastly place -all the time!" - -To another friend he added some criticism of the book. "Some of the -tales seem to me a trifle light, and one, at least, is too slender and -fantastic--qualities that rarely mingle well." (How oft in the stilly -night have I wondered which one he meant!) "But the whole book breathes -admirably of the soil. 'The Stickit Minister,' 'The Heather Lintie,' -are two that appeal to me particularly. They are drowned in Scotland. -They have refreshed me like a visit home. 'Cleg Kelly' also is a -delightful fellow. I have enjoyed his acquaintance particularly." - -Curiously enough, it was not from Samoa, but from Honolulu, that I first -received tidings that my little volume had not miscarried. It was quite -characteristic of Mr. Stevenson not to answer at once: "I let my -letters accumulate till I am leaving a place," he said to me more than -once; "then I lock myself in with them, and my cries of penitence can be -heard a mile!" - -In a San Francisco paper there appeared a report of a speech he had made -to some kindly Scots who entertained him in Honolulu, In it he spoke -affectionately of "The Stickit Minister." I have, alas! lost the -reference now, but at the time it took me by the throat. I could not -get over the sheer kindness of the thing. - -Then came a letter and a poem, both very precious to me: - -"Thank you from my heart, and see with what dull pedantry I have been -tempted to extend your beautiful phrase of prose into three indifferent -stanzas: - - "Blows the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain are flying; - Blows the wind on the moors to-day, and now, - Where about the graves of the martyrs the whaups are crying-- - My heart remembers how! - - Grey recumbent tombs of the dead in desert places, - Standing Stones on the vacant, wine-red moor; - Hills of sheep, and the howes of the silent vanished races, - And winds austere and pure! - - Be it granted me to behold you again in dying, - Hills of home! and to hear again the call-- - Hear about the graves of the martyrs the pee-wees crying, - And hear no more at all." - - -To me, in the all too brief days that remained to him, he wrote letter -after letter of criticism, encouragement, and praise (in which last, as -was his wont, he let his kind heart run far ahead of his judgment). It -goes to my heart now not to quote from these, for they are in some wise -my poor patent of nobility. But, perhaps with more wisdom, I keep them -by me, to hearten myself withal when the days of darkness grow too many -and too dark. - -So much for bush to this second draught of countryside vintage--the more -easily forgiven that it tells of the generosity of a dead man whom I -loved. But and if in any fields Elysian or grey twilight of shades, I -chance to meet with Robert Louis Stevenson, I know that I shall find him -in act to help over some ghostly stile, the halt, the maimed, and the -faint of heart---even as in these late earthly years he did for me--and -for many another. - -S. R. CROCKETT. - - - *CONTENTS* - - I. THE STICKIT MINISTER'S WOOING - II. THE STICKIT MINISTER WINS THROUGH - III. GIBBY THE EEL, STUDENT IN DIVINITY - IV. DR. GIRNIGO'S ASSISTANT - V. THE GATE OF THE UPPER GARDEN - VI. THE TROUBLER OF ISRAEL - VII. CARNATION'S MORNING JOY - VIII. JAIMSIE - IX. BEADLE AND MARTYR - X. THE BLUE EYES OF AILIE - XI. LOWE'S SEAT - XII. THE SUIT OF BOTTLE GREEN - XIII. A SCIENTIFIC SYMPOSIUM - XIV. THE HEMPIE'S LOVE STORY - XV. THE LITTLE FAIR MAN-- - -I.--SEED SOWN BY THE WAYSIDE -II.--THE HUMBLING OF STRENGTH-O'-AIRM -III.--THE CURATE OF KIRKCHRIST - - XVI. MY FATHER'S LOVE STORY - XVII. THE MAN OF WRATH - XVIII. THE LASS IN THE SHOP - XIX. THE RESPECT OF DROWDLE - XX. TADMOR IN THE WILDERNESS - XXI. PETERSON'S PATIENT - XXII. TWO HUMOURISTS - - - - - *THE STICKIT MINISTER'S WOOING[#]* - - -[#] These stories have been edited chiefly from manuscripts supplied to -me by my friend Mr. Alexander McQuhirr, M.D., of Cairn Edward in -Galloway, of whose personal adventures I treated in the volume called -"Lad's Love," I have let my friend tell his tale in his own way in -almost every case. - - -It was in the second year of my college life thai I came home to find -Robert Fraser, whom a whole country-side called the "Stickit Minister," -distinctly worse, and indeed, set down upon his great chair in the -corner as on a place from which he would never rise. - -A dour, grippy back-end it was, the soil stubborn and untoward with -early frost. And a strange sound it was to hear as I (Alexander -McQuhirr) came down the Lang Brae, the channel stones droning and -dinnelling on the ice by the third of November; a thing which had not -happened in our parts since that fell year of the Sixteen Drifty Days, -which has been so greatly talked about. - -I walked over to the Dullarg the very night I arrived from Edinburgh. I -had a new volume of Tennyson with me, which I had bought with the -thought that he would be pleased with it. For I loved Robert Fraser, and -I will not deny that my heart beat with expectation as I went up the -little loaning with the rough stone dyke upon either side--aye, as if it -had been the way to Nether Neuk, and I going to see my sweetheart. - -"Come your ways in, Alec, man," his voice came from the inner room, as -he heard me pause to exchange banter of a rural sort with the servant -lasses in the kitchen; "I have been waitin' for ye. I kenned ye wad -come the nicht!" - -I went in. And there by the little peat fire, drowsing red and looking -strangely out of place behind the ribs of the black-leaded "register" -grate, I saw the Stickit Minister with a black-and-white check plaid -about his knees. He smiled a strange sweet smile, at once wistful and -distant, as I entered--like one who waves farewell through a mist of -tears as the pier slides back and the sundering water seethes and widens -about the ship. - -"You are better, Robert!" I said, smiling too. Dully, and yet with -dogged cheerfulness, I said it, as men lie to the dying--and are not -believed. - -He stretched out his thin hand, the ploughman's horn clean gone from it, -and the veins blue and convex upon the shrunk wrist. - -"_Ave atque vale_, Alec, lad!" he answered. "That is what it has come to -with Robert Fraser. But how are all at Drumquhat? Ye will be on your -road ower to the Nether Neuk?" - -This he said, though he knew different. - -"I have brought you this from Edinburgh," I said, giving him the little, -thin, green volume of Tennyson. I had cut it to save him trouble, and -written his name on the blank page before the title. - -I shall never forget the way he looked at it. He opened it as a woman -unfolds a new and costly garment, with a lingering caress of the wasted -finger-tips through which I could almost see the white of the paper, and -a slow soft intake of the breath, like a lover's sigh. - -His eyes, of old blue and clear, had now a kind of glaze over them, a -veiling Indian summer mist through which, however, still shone, all -undimmed and fearless, the light of the simplest and manfulest spirit I -have ever known. He turned the leaves and read a verse here and there -with evident pleasure. He had a way of reading anything he loved as it -listening inly to the cadences--a little half-turn of the head aside, -and a still contented smile hovering about the lips, like one who -catches the first returning fall of beloved footsteps. - -But all at once Robert Fraser shut the book and let his hands sink -wearily down upon his knee. He did not look at me, but kept his eyes on -the red peat ash in the "register" grate. - -"It's bonnie," he murmured softly; "and it was a kind thing for you to -think on me. But it's gane frae me, Alec--it's a' clean gane. Tak' you -the book, Alec. The birdies will never sing again in ony spring for me -to hear. I'm back upon the Word, Alec. There's nocht but That for me -noo!" - -He laid his hand on a Bible that was open beside him on the stand which -held his medicine bottles, and a stocking at which his wearied fingers -occasionally knitted for a moment or two at a time. - -Then he gave the little green-clad Tennyson back to me with so motherly -and lingering a regard that, had I not turned away, I declare I know not -but that I had been clean done for. - -"Yet for a' that, Alec," he said, "do you take the book for my sake. -And see--cut out the leaf ye hae written on and let me keep it here -beside me." - -I did as he asked me, and with the leaf in his hand he turned over the -pages of his Bible carefully, like a minister looking for a text. He -stopped at a yellowing envelope, as if uncertain whether to deposit the -inscription in it. Then he lifted the stamped oblong and handed it to -me with a kind of smile. - -"There, Alec," he said, "you that has (so they tell me) a sweetheart o' -your ain, ye will like to see that. This is the envelope that held the -letter I gat frae Jessie Loudon--the nicht Sir James telled me at the -Infirmary that my days were numbered!" - -"Oh, Robert!" I cried, all ashamed that he should speak thus to a young -man like me, "dinna think o' that. You will excite yourself--you may do -yourself a hurt----" - -But he waved me away, still smiling that slow misty smile, in which, -strangely enough, there was yet some of the humoursomeness of one who -sees a situation from the outside. - -"Na, Alec, lad," he said, softly, "that's gane too. Upon a dark day I -made a pact wi' my Maker, and now the covenanted price is nearly paid. -_His_ messenger wi' the discharge is already on the road. I never hear a -hand on the latch, but I look up to see Him enter--aye, and He shall be -welcome, welcome as the bridegroom that enters into the Beloved's -chamber!" - -I covered my brows with my palm, and pretended to look at the -handwriting on the envelope, which was delicate and feminine. The -Stickit Minister went on. - -"Aye, Alec," he said, meditatively, with his eyes still on the red glow, -"ye think that ye love the lass ye hae set your heart on; and doubtless -ye do love her truly. But I pray God that there may never come a day -when ye shall have spoken the last sundering word, and returned her the -written sheets faithfully every one. Ye hae heard the story, Alec. I -will not hurt your young heart by telling it again. But I spared Jessie -Loudon all I could, and showed her that she must not mate her young life -with one no better than dead!" - -The Stickit Minister was silent a long time here. Doubtless old faces -looked at him clear out of the red spaces of the fire. And when he -began to speak again, it was in an altered voice. - -"Nevertheless, because power was given me, I pled with, and in some -measure comforted her. For though the lassie's heart was set on me, it -was as a bairn's heart is set, not like the heart of a woman; and for -that I praise the Lord--yes, I give thanks to His name! - -"Then after that I came back to an empty house--and this!" - -He caressed the faded envelope lovingly, as a miser his intimatest -treasure. - -"I did not mean to keep it, Alec," he went on presently, "but I am glad -I did. It has been a comfort to me; and through all these years it has -rested there where ye see it--upon the chapter where God answers Job out -of the whirlwind. Ye ken yon great words." - -We heard a slight noise in the yard, the wheels of some light vehicle -driven quickly. The Stickit Minister started a little, and when I -looked at him again I saw that the red spot, the size of a crown-piece, -which burned so steadfastly on his check-bone had spread till now it -covered his brow. - -Then we listened, breathless, like men that wait for a marvel, and -through the hush the peats on the grate suddenly fell inward with a -startling sound, bringing my heart into my mouth. Next we heard a voice -without, loud and a little thick, in heated debate. - -"Thank God!" cried the Stickit Minister, fervently. "It's Henry--my -dear brother! For a moment I feared it had been Lawyer Johnston from -Cairn Edward. You know," he added, smiling with all his old swift -gladsomeness, "I am now but a tenant at will. I sit here in the Dullarg -on sufferance--that once was the laird of acre and onstead!" - -He raised his voice to carry through the door into the kitchen. - -"Henry, Henry, this is kind--kind of you--to come so far to see me on -such a night!" - -The Stickit Minister was on his feet by this time, and if I had thought -that his glance had been warm and motherly for me, it was fairly on fire -with affection now. I believe that Robert Fraser once loved his -betrothed faithfully and well; but never will I believe that he loved -woman born of woman as he loved his younger brother. - -And that is, perhaps, why these things fell out so. - - * * * * * - -I had not seen Henry Fraser since the first year he had come to Cairn -Edward. A handsome young man he was then, with a short, supercilious -upper lip, and crisply curling hair of a fair colour disposed in masses -about his brow. - -He entered, and at the first glimpse of him I stood astonished. His -pale student's face had grown red and a trifle mottled. The lids of his -blue eyes (the blue of his brother's) were injected. His mouth was -loose and restless under a heavy moustache, and when he began to speak -his voice came from him thick and throaty. - -"I wonder you do not keep your people in better order, Robert," he said, -before he was fairly within the door of the little sitting-room. "First -I drove right into a farm-cart that had been left in the middle of the -yard, and then nearly broke my shins over a pail some careless slut of a -byre-lass had thrown down at the kitchen-door." - -Robert Fraser had been standing up with the glad and eager look on his -face. I think he had half stretched out his hand; but at his brother's -querulous words he sank slowly back into his chair, and the grey -tiredness slipped into his face almost as quickly as it had disappeared. - -"I am sorry, Henry," he said, simply. "Somehow I do not seem to get -about so readily as I did, and I daresay the lads and lasses take some -advantage." - -"They would not take advantage with me, I can tell you!" cried the young -doctor, throwing down his driving-cape on the corner of the old sofa, -and pulling a chair in to the fire. He bent forward and chafed his -hands before the glowing peats, and as he did so I could see by a slight -lurch and quick recovery that he had been drinking. I wondered if -Robert Fraser noticed. - -Then he leaned back and looked at the Stickit Minister. - -"Well, Robert, how do you find yourself to-night? Better, eh?" he said, -speaking in his professional voice. - -His brother's face flushed again with the same swift pleasure, very -pitiful to see. - -"It is kind of you to ask," he said; "I think I do feel a betterness, -Henry. The cough has certainly been less troublesome this last day or -two." - -"I suppose there are no better prospects about the property," said Dr. -Fraser, passing from the medical question with no more than the words I -have written down. I had already risen, and, with a muttered excuse, -was passing into the outer kitchen, that I might leave the brothers -alone. - -So I did not hear Robert Fraser's reply, but as I closed the door I -caught the younger's loud retort: "I tell you what it is, Robert--say -what you will--I have not been fairly dealt with in this matter--I have -been swindled!" - -So I went out with my heart heavy within me for my friend, and though -Bell Gregory, the bonniest of the farm lasses, ostentatiously drew her -skirts aside and left a vacant place beside her in the ingle-nook, I -shook my head and kept on my way to the door with rib more than a smile -and "Anither nicht, Bell." - -"Gie my love to Nance ower at the Nether Neuk," she cried back, with -challenge in her tone, as I went out. - -But even Nance Chrystie was not in my thoughts that night. I stepped -out, passing in front of the straw-thatched bee-hives which, with the -indrawing days, had lost their sour-sweet summer smell, and so on into -the loaning. From the foot of the little brae I looked back at the -lights burning so warmly and steadily from the low windows of the -Dullarg, and my mind went over all my father had told me of what the -Stickit Minister had done for his brother: how he had broken off his own -college career that Henry might go through his medical classes with ease -and credit; and how, in spite of his brother's rank ingratitude, he had -bonded his little property in order to buy him old Dr. Aitkin's practice -in Cairn Edward. - -Standing thus and thinking under the beeches at the foot of the dark -loaning, it gave me quite a start to find a figure close beside me. It -was a woman with a shawl over her head, as is the habit of the cotters' -wives in our parish. - -"Tell me," a voice, eager and hurried, panted almost in my ear, "is Dr. -Fraser of Cairn Edward up there?" - -"Yes," I said in reply, involuntarily drawing back a step--the woman was -so near me--"he is this moment with his brother." - -"Then for God's sake will ye gang up and tell him to come this instant -to the Earmark cothouses. There are twa bairns there that are no like to -see the mornin' licht if he doesna!" - -"But who may you be?" I said, for I did not want to return to the -Dullarg. "And why do you not go in and tell him for yourself? You can -give him the particulars of the case better than I!" - -She gave a little shivering moan. - -"I canna gang in there!" she said, clasping her hands piteously; "I -darena. Not though I am Gilbert Harbour's wife--and the bairns' mither. -Oh, sir, rin!" - -And I ran. - -But when I had knocked and delivered my message, to my great surprise -Dr. Henry Fraser received it very coolly. - -"They are only some cotter people," he said, "they must just wait till I -am on my way back from the village. I will look in then. Robert, it is -a cold night, let me have some whisky before I get into that ice-box of -a gig again." - -The Stickit Minister turned towards the wall-press where ever since his -mother's day the "guardevin," or little rack of cut-glass decanters, had -stood, always hospitably full but quite untouched by the master of the -house. - -I was still standing uncertainly by the door-cheek, and as Robert Fraser -stepped across the little room I saw him stagger; and rushed forward to -catch him. But ere I could reach him he had commanded himself, and -turned to me with a smile on his lips. Yet even his brother was struck -by the ashen look on his face. - -"Sit down, Robert," he said, "I will help myself." - -But with a great effort the Stickit Minister set the tall narrow -dram-glass on the table and ceremoniously filled out to his brother the -stranger's "portion," as was once the duty of country hospitality in -Scotland. - -But the Doctor interrupted. - -"Oh, I say!" he exclaimed, when he saw what his brother was doing, "for -heaven's sake not that thing--give me a tumbler." - -And without further ceremony he went to the cupboard; then he cried to -Bell Gregory to fetch him some hot water, and mixed himself a steaming -glass. - -But the Stickit Minister did not sit down. He stood up by the -mantelpiece all trembling. I noted particularly that his fingers -spilled half the contents of the dram-glass as he tried to pour them -back into the decanter. - -"Oh, haste ye, Henry!" he said, with a pleading anxiety in his voice I -had never heard there in any trouble of his own; "take up your drink and -drive as fast as ye can to succour the poor woman's bairns. It is not -for nothing that she would come here seeking you at this time of night!" - -His brother laughed easily as he reseated himself and drew the tumbler -nearer to his elbow. - -"That's all you know, Robert," he said; "why, they come all the way to -Cairn Edward after me if their little finger aches, let alone over here. -I daresay some of the brats have got the mumps, and the mother saw me as -I drove past. No, indeed--she and they must just wait till I get -through my business at Whinnyliggate!" - -"I ask you, Henry," said his brother eagerly, "do this for my sake; it -is not often that I ask you anything--nor will I have long time now -wherein to ask!" - -"Well," grumbled the young doctor, rising and finishing the toddy as he -stood, "I suppose I must, if you make a point of it. But I will just -look in at Whinnyliggate on my way across. Earmark is a good two miles -on my way home!" - -"Thank you, Henry," said Robert Fraser, "I will not forget this kindness -to me!" - -With a brusque nod Dr. Henry Fraser strode out through the kitchen, -among whose merry groups his comings and goings always created a certain -hush of awe. In a few minutes more we could hear the clear clatter of -the horse's shod feet on the hard "macadam" as he turned out of the soft -sandy loaning into the main road. - -The Stickit Minister sank back into his chair. - -"Thank God!" he said, with a quick intake of breath almost like a sob. - -I looked down at him in surprise. - -"Robert, why are you so troubled about this woman's bairns?" I asked. - -He did not answer for a while, lying fallen in upon himself in his great -armchair of worn horse-hair, as if the strain had been too great for his -weak body. When he did reply it was in a curiously far-away voice like -a man speaking in a dream. - -"They are Jessie Loudon's bairns," he said, "and a' the comfort she has -in life!" - -I sat down on the hearthrug beside him--a habit I had when we were alone -together. It was thus that I used to read Homer and Horace to him in -the long winter forenights, and wrangle for happy hours over a -construction or the turning of a phrase in the translation. So now I -simply sat and was silent, touching his knee lightly with my shoulder. -I knew that in time he would tell me all he wished me to hear. The old -eight-day clock in the corner (with "_John Grey, Kilmaurs, 1791_" in -italics across the brass face of it), ticked on interminably through ten -minutes, and I heard the feet of the men come in from suppering the -horse, before Robert said another word. Then he spoke: "Alec," he said, -very quietly--he could hardly say or do anything otherwise (or rather I -thought so before that night). "I have this on my spirit--it is heavy -like a load. When I broke it to Jessie Loudon that I could never marry -her, as I told you, I did not tell you that she took it hard and high, -speaking bitter words that are best forgotten. And then in a week or -two she married Gib Barbour, a good-for-nothing, good-looking young -ploughman, a great don at parish dances--no meet mate for her. And that -I count the heaviest part of my punishment. - -"And since that day I have not passed word or salutation with Jessie -Loudon--that is, with Jessie Barbour. But on a Sabbath day, just before -I was laid down last year--a bonnie day in June--I met her as I passed -though a bourock fresh with the gowden broom, and the 'shilfies' and -Jennie Wrens singing on every brier. I had been lookin' for a sheep -that had broken bounds. And there she sat wi' a youngling on ilka knee. -There passed but ae blink o' the e'en between us--ane and nae mair. But -oh, Alec, as I am a sinful man--married wife though she was, I kenned -that she loved me, and she kenned that I loved her wi' the love that has -nae ending!" - -There was a long pause here, and the clock struck with a long -preparatory _g-r-r-r_, as if it were clearing its throat in order to -apologise for the coming interruption. - -"And that," said Robert Fraser, "was the reason why Jessie Loudon would -not come up to the Dullarg this nicht--no, not even for her bairns' -sake!" - - - - - *THE STICKIT MINISTER WINS THROUGH* - - -Yet Jessie Loudon did come to the Dullarg that night--and that for her -children's sake. - -Strangely enough, in writing of an evening so fruitful in incident, I -cannot for the life of me remember what happened during the next two -hours. The lads and lasses came in for the "Taking of the Book." So -much I do recall. But that was an exercise never omitted on any pretext -in the house of the ex-divinity student. I remember this also, because -after the brief prelude of the psalm-singing (it was the 103rd), the -Stickit Minister pushed the Bible across to me, open at the -thirty-eighth chapter of Job. The envelope was still there. Though it -was turned sideways I could see the faintly written address: - -_MR. ROBERT FRASER,_ - _Student in Divinity,_ - _50, St. Leonard's Street,_ - _Edinburgh._ - - -Even as I looked I seemed to hear again the woman's voice in the dark -loaning--"I canna gang in _there_!" And in a lightning flash of -illumination it came to me what the answer to that letter had meant to -Jessie Loudon, and the knowledge somehow made me older and sadder. - -Then with a shaking voice I read the mighty words before me: "When the -morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy".... -But when I came to the verse which says: "Have the gates of death been -opened unto thee? Or hast thou seen the doors of the shadow of death?" -I saw the Stickit Minister nod his head three times very slightly, and a -strange subtle smile came over his face as though he could have -answered: "Yea, Lord, verily I have seen them--they have been opened to -me!" - -And as the lads and lasses filed out in a kind of wondering silence -after Robert Fraser had prayed--not kneeling down, but sitting erect in -his chair and looking out before him with wide-open eyes--we in the -little sitting-room became conscious of a low knocking, persistent and -remote, somewhere about the house of Dullarg. We could hear Bell -Gregory open and then immediately close the kitchen door, having -evidently found no one there. The knocking still continued. - -"I believe it is somebody at the front door," I said, turning in that -direction. - -And then the Stickit Minister cried out in a curious excited voice: -"Open to them--open, Alec! Quick, man!" - -And his voice went through me with a kind of thrill, for I knew not who -it was he expected to enter, whether sheriff's officer or angry -creditor--or as it might be the Angel of the Presence Himself come to -summon his soul to follow. - -Nevertheless, with quaking heart enough, and resolving in future to be a -more religious man, I made bold to undo the door. - -The woman I had seen in the lane stood before me, as it were, projected -out of the dense darkness behind, her shawl fallen back from her face, -and her features all pale and changeful in the flicker of the candle I -had snatched up to take with me into the little hall. For the front -door was only used on state occasions, as when the parish minister came -to call, and at funerals. - -"He has not come--and the bairns are dying! So I had to come back!" she -cried, more hoarsely and breathlessly than I had ever heard woman speak. -But her eyes fairly blazed and her lips were parted wide for my answer. - -"Dr. Fraser left here more than an hour ago," I stammered. "Has he not -been to see the children?" - -"No--no, I tell you, no. And they are choking--dying--it is the trouble -in the throat. They will die if he does not come----" - -I heard a noise behind me, and the next moment I found myself put aside -like a child, and Robert Fraser stood face to face with her that had -been Jessie Loudon. - -"Come in," he said. And when she drew back from him with a kind of -shudder, and felt uncertainly for her shawl, he stepped aside and -motioned her to enter with a certain large and commanding gesture I had -never seen him use before. And as if accustomed to obey, the woman came -slowly within the lighted room. Even then, however, she would not sit -down, but stood facing us both, a girl prematurely old, her lips nearly -as pale as her worn cheeks, her blown hair disordered and wispy about -her forehead, and only the dark and tragic flashing of her splendid eyes -telling of a bygone beauty. - -The Stickit Minister stood up also, and as he leaned his hand upon the -table, I noticed that he gently shut the Bible which I had left open, -that the woman's eye might not fall upon the faded envelope which marked -the thirty-eighth of Job. - -"Do I understand you to say," he began, in a voice clear, resonant, and -full, not at all the voice of a stricken man, "that my brother has not -yet visited your children?" - -"He had not come when I ran out--they are much worse--dying, I think!" -she answered, also in another voice and another mode of speech--yet a -little stiffly, as if the more correct method had grown unfamiliar by -disuse. - -For almost the only time in his life I saw a look, stern and hard, come -over the countenance of the Stickit Minister. - -"Go home, Jessie," he said; "I will see that he is there as fast as -horses can bring him!" - -She hesitated a moment. - -"Is he not here?" she faltered. "Oh, tell me if he is--I meant to fetch -him back. I dare not go back without him!" - -The Stickit Minister went to the door with firm step, the woman -following without question or argument. - -"Fear not, but go, Jessie," he said; "my brother is not here, but he -will be at the bairns' bedside almost as soon as you. I promise you." - -"Thank you, Robin," she stammered, adjusting the shawl over her head and -instantly disappearing into the darkness. The old sweethearting name -had risen unconsciously to her lips in the hour of her utmost need. I -think neither of them noticed it. - -"And now help me on with my coat," said Robert Fraser, turning to me. -"I am going over to the village." - -"You must not," I cried, taking him by the arm; "let _me_ go--let me put -in the pony; I will be there in ten minutes!" - -"I have no pony now," he said gently and a little sadly, "I have no need -of one. And besides, the quickest way is across the fields." - -It was true. The nearest way to the village, by a great deal, was by a -narrow foot-track that wound across the meadows. But, fearing for his -life, I still tried to prevent him. - -"It will be your death!" I said, endeavouring to keep him back. "Let me -go alone!" - -"If Henry is where I fear he is," he answered, calmly, "he would not -stir for you. But he will for me. And besides, I have passed my word -to--to Jessie!" - -The details of that terrible night journey I will not enter upon. It is -sufficient to say that I bade him lean on me, and go slowly, but do what -I would I could not keep him back. Indeed, he went faster than I could -accompany him--for, in order to support him a little, I had to walk -unevenly along the ragged edges of the little field-path. All was dark -gray above, beneath, and to the right of us. Only on the left hand a -rough whinstone dyke stood up solidly black against the monotone of the -sky. The wind came in cold swirls, with now and then a fleck of snow -that stung the face like hail. I had insisted on the Stickit Minister -taking his plaid about him in addition to his overcoat, and the ends of -it flicking into my eyes increased the difficulty. - -I have hardly ever been so thankful in my life, as when at last I saw -the lights of the village gleam across the little bridge, as we emerged -from the water-meadows and felt our feet firm themselves on the turnpike -road. - -From that point the Stickit Minister went faster than ever. Indeed, he -rushed forward, in spite of my restraining arm, with some remaining -flicker of the vigour which in youth had made him first on the hillside -at the fox-hunt and first on the haystacks upon the great day of the -inbringing of the winter's fodder. - -It seemed hardly a moment before we were at the door of the inn--the Red -Lion the name of it, at that time in the possession of one "Jeems" -Carter. Yes, Henry Fraser was there. His horse was tethered to an iron -ring which was fixed in the whitewashed wall, and his voice could be -heard at that very moment leading a rollicking chorus. Then I -remembered. It was a "Cronies'" night. This was a kind of informal club -recruited from the more jovial of the younger horsebreeding farmers of -the neighbourhood. It included the local "vet.," a bonnet laird or two -grown lonesome and thirsty by prolonged residence upon the edges of the -hills, and was on all occasions proud and glad to welcome a guest so -distinguished and popular as the young doctor of Cairn Edward. - -"Loose the beast and be ready to hand me the reins when I come out!" -commanded the Stickit Minister, squaring his stooped shoulders like the -leader of a forlorn hope. - -So thus it happened that I did not see with my own eyes what happened -when Robert Fraser opened the door of the "Cronies'" club-room. But I -have heard it so often recounted that I know as well as if I had seen. -It was the Laird of Butterhole who told me, and he always said that it -made a sober man of him from that day forth. It was (he said) like -Lazarus looking out of the sepulchre after they had rolled away the -stone. - -Suddenly in the midst of their jovial chorus some one said -"_Hush_!"--some one of themselves--and instinctively all turned towards -the door. - -And lo! there in the doorway, framed in the outer dark, his broad blue -bonnet in his hand, his checked plaid waving back from his shoulders, -stood a man, pale as if he had come to them up through the Valley of the -Shadow of Death. With a hand white as bone, he beckoned to his brother, -who stood with his hands on the table smiling and swaying a little with -tipsy gravity. - -"Why, Robert, what are you doing here----?" he was beginning. But the -Stickit Minister broke in. - -"Come!" he said, sternly and coldly, "the children you have neglected -are dying--if they die through your carelessness you will be their -murderer!" - -And to the surprise of all, the tall and florid younger brother quailed -before the eye of this austere shade. - -"Yes, I will come, Robert--I was coming in a moment anyway!" - -And so the Stickit Minister led him out. There was no great merriment -after that in the "Cronies'" club that night. The members conferred -chiefly in whispers, and presently emptying their glasses, they stole -away home. - -But no mortal knows what Robert Fraser said to his brother during that -drive--something mightily sobering at all events. For when the two -reached the small cluster of cothouses lying under the lee of Earmark -wood, the young man, though not trusting himself to articulate speech, -and somewhat over-tremulous of hand, was yet in other respects -completely master of himself. I was not present at the arrival, just as -I had not seen the startling apparition which broke up the "Cronies'" -club. The doctor's gig held only two, and as soon as I handed Robert -Fraser the reins, the beast sprang forward. But I was limber and a good -runner in those days, and though the gray did his best I was not far -behind. - -There is no ceremony at such a house in time of sickness. The door -stood open to the wall. A bright light streamed through and revealed -the inequalities of the little apron of causewayed cobblestones. I -entered and saw Henry Fraser bending over a bed on which a bairn was -lying. Robert held a candle at his elbow. The mother paced restlessly -to and fro with another child in her arms. I could see the doctor touch -again and again the back of the little girl's throat with a brush which -he continually replenished from a phial in his left hand. - -Upon the other side of the hearthstone from the child's bed a strong -country lout sat, sullenly "becking" his darned stocking feet at the -clear embers of the fire. Then the mother laid the first child on the -opposite bed, and turned to where the doctor was still operating. - -Suddenly Henry Fraser stood erect. There was not a trace of dissipation -about him now. The tradition of his guild was as a mantle of dignity -about him. - -"It is all right," he said as he took his brother's hand in a long -clasp. "Thank you, Robert, thank you a thousand times--that you brought -me here in time!" - -"Nay, rather, thank God!" said Robert Fraser, solemnly. - -And even as he stood there the Stickit Minister swayed sidelong, but the -next moment he had recovered himself with a hand on the bed-post. Then -very swiftly he drew a handkerchief from his pocket and set it to his -lips. - -His brother and I went towards him with a quick apprehension. But the -Stickit Minister turned from us both to the woman, who took two swift -steps towards him with her arms outstretched, and such a yearning of -love on her face as I never saw before or since. The sullen lout by the -fire, drowsed on unheeding. - -"_Jessie!_" cried the Stickit Minister, and with that fell into her -arms. She held him there a long moment as it had been jealously, her -head bent down upon his. Then she delivered him up to me, slowly and -reluctantly. - -Henry Fraser put his hand on his heart and gave a great sob. - -"My brother is dead!" he said. - -But Jessie Loudon did not utter a word. - - - - - *GIBBY THE EEL, STUDENT IN DIVINITY* - - -Naturalists have often remarked how little resemblance there is between -the young of certain animals and the adult specimen. Yonder tottering -quadrangular arrangement of chewed string, remotely and inadequately -connected at the upper corners, is certainly the young of the horse. -But it does not even remotely suggest the war-horse sniffing up the -battle from afar. This irregular yellow ball of feathers, with the -steel-blue mask set beneath its half-opened eyelids, is most -ridiculously unlike the magnificent eagle, which (in books) stares -unblinded into the very eye of the noonday sun. - -In like manner the young of the learned professions are by no means like -the full-fledged expert of the mysteries. If in such cases the child is -the father of the man, the parentage is by no means apparent. - -To how many medical students would you willingly entrust the application -of one square inch of sticking-plaster to a cut finger, or the care of a -half-guinea umbrella? What surgeon would you not, in an emergency, -trust with all you hold dear? You may cherish preferences and even -prejudices, but as a whole the repute of the profession is above cavil. - -There is, perhaps, more continuity above the legal profession, but even -there it is a notable fact that the older and more successful a lawyer -is, the more modest you find him, and the more diffident of his own -infallibility. Indeed, several of the most eminent judges are in this -matter quite as other men. - -But of all others, the divinity student is perhaps the most -misunderstood. He is wilfully misrepresented by those who ought to know -him best. Nay, he misrepresents himself, and when he doffs tweeds and -takes to collars which fasten behind and a long-skirted clerical coat, -he is apt to disown his past self; and often succeeds in persuading -himself that as he is now, diligent, sedate, zealous of good works, so -was he ever. - -Only sometimes, when he has got his Sunday sermons off his mind and two -or three of the augurs are gathered together, will the adult clerk in -holy orders venture to lift the veil and chew the cud of ancient jest -and prank not wholly sanctified. - -Now there ought to be room, in a gallery which contains so many -portraits of ministers, for one or two Students of Divinity, faithfully -portrayed.[#] - -[#] These studies I wrote down during certain winters, when, to please -my mother, I made a futile attempt to prepare myself "to wag my head in -a pulpit." Saving a certain prolixity of statement (which the -ill-affected call long-windedness), they were all I carried away with me -when I resolved to devote myself to the medical profession.--A. McQ. - -And of these the first and chief is Mr. Gilbert Denholm, Master of Arts, -Scholar in Theology--to his class-fellows more colloquially and -generally known as "Gibby the Eel." - -At college we all loved Gilbert. He was a merry-hearted youth, and his -mere bodily presence was enough to make glad the countenances of his -friends. His father was a minister in the West with a large family to -bring up, which he effected with success upon a stipend of surprising -tenuity. So it behoved Gilbert to keep himself at college by means of -scholarships and private tuition. His pupils had a lively time of it. - -Yet his only fault obvious to the world was a certain light-headed but -winsome gaiety, and a tendency to jokes of the practical kind. I used -often to restrain Gilbert's ardour by telling him that if he did not -behave himself and walk more seemly, he would get his bursary taken from -him by the Senatus. - -This would recall Gilbert to himself when almost everything else had -failed. - -Part of Gilbert's personal equipment was the certain lithe slimness of -figure which gained him the title of "Gibby the Eel," and enabled him to -practise many amusing pranks in the class-room. He would have made an -exceptionally fine burglar, for few holes were too small and no window -too secure for Gilbert to make his exits and entrances by. Without -going so far as to say that he could wriggle himself through an ordinary -keyhole, I will affirm that if anybody ever could, that person was -Gilbert Denholm. - -One of the most ordinary of his habits was that of wandering here and -there throughout the classroom during the hour of lecture, presuming -upon the professor's purblindness or lack of attention. You would be -sitting calmly writing a letter, drawing caricatures in your note-book, -or otherwise improving your mind with the most laudable imitation of -attention, when suddenly, out of the black and dusty depths about your -feet would arise the startling apparition of Gibby the Eel. He would -nod, casually inquire how you found yourself this morning, and inform -you that he only dropped in on his way up to Bench Seventeen to see -Balhaldie, who owed him a shilling. - -"Well, so long!" Again he would nod pleasantly, and sink into the -unknown abyss beneath the benches as noiselessly and unobtrusively as a -smile fades from a face. - -Sometimes, however, when in wanton mood, his progress Balhaldie-wards -could be guessed at by the chain of "_Ouchs_" and "_Ohs_" which -indicated his subterranean career. The suddenness with which Gilbert -could awaken to lively interest the most somnolent and indifferent -student, by means of a long brass pin in the calf of the leg, had to be -felt to be appreciated. Thereupon ensued the sound of vigorous kicking, -but generally by the time the injured got the range of his unseen foe, -Gilbert could be observed two or three forms above intently studying a -Greek Testament wrong side up, and looking the picture of meek -reproachful innocence. - -In no class could Gilbert use so much freedom of errancy as in that of -the venerable Professor Galbraith. Every afternoon this fine old -gentleman undertook to direct our studies in New Testament exegesis, and -incidentally afforded his students an hour of undisturbed repose after -the more exciting labours of the day. - -No one who ever studied under Dr. Simeon Galbraith will forget that -gentle droning voice overhead, that full-orbed moon-like countenance, -over which two smaller moons of beamy spectacle seemed to be in -perpetual transit, and in especial he will remember that blessed word -"Hermeneutics," of which (it is said) there was once one student who -could remember the meaning. He died young, much respected by all who -knew him. Dreamily the great word came to you, soothing and grateful as -mother's lullaby, recurrent as the wash of a quiet sea upon a beach of -softest sand. "Gentlemen, I will now proceed to call your attention ... -to the study of Hermeneutics ... Hermeneut ... Gegenbauer has affirmed -... but in my opeenion, gentlemen ... Hermeneutics...!" (Here you -passed from the subconscious state into Nirvana.) - -And so on, and so on, till the college bell clanged in the quadrangle, -and it was time to file out for a wash and brush-up before dinner in -hall. - -Upon one afternoon every week, Professor Galbraith read with his -students the "Greek Oreeginal." He prescribed half-a-dozen chapters of -"Romans" or "Hebrews," and expected us to prepare them carefully. I -verily believe that he imagined we did. This shows what a sanguine and -amiable old gentlemen he was. The beamy spectacle belied him not. - -The fact was that we stumbled through our portions by the light of -nature, aided considerably by a class copy of an ingenious work known by -the name of "Bagster," in which every Greek word had the English -equivalent marked in plain figures underneath, and all the verbs fully -parsed at the foot of the page. - -The use of this was not considered wicked, because, like the early -Christians, in Professor Galbraith's class we had all things common. -This was our one point of resemblance to the primitive Church. - -One day the Doctor, peering over his brown leather folio, discerned the -meek face and beaming smile of Gilbert the Eel in the centre of Bench -One, immediately beneath him. - -"Ah! Mr. Denholm, will you read for us this morning--beginning at the -29th verse--of the chapter under consideration?" - -And he subsided expectantly into his lecture. - -Up rose Gilbert, signalling wildly with one hand for the class "Bagster" -to be passed to him, and meantime grasping at the first Testament he -could see about him. By the time he had read the Greek of half-a-dozen -verses, the sharpness of the trouble was overpast. He held in his hands -the Key of Knowledge, and translated and parsed like a Cunningham -Fellow--or any other fellow. - -"Vairy well, Mr. Denholm; vairy well indeed. You may now sit down while -I proceed to expound the passage!" - -Whereupon Gibby the Eel ungratefully pitched the faithful "Bagster" on -the bench and disappeared under the same himself on a visit to Nicholson -McFeat, who sat in the middle of the class-room. - -For five minutes--ten--fifteen, the gentle voice droned on from the -rostrum, the word "Hermeneutics" discharging itself at intervals with -the pleasing gurgle of an intermittent spring. Then the Professor -returned suddenly to his Greek Testament. - -"Mr. Denholm, you construed _vairy_ well last time. Be good enough to -continue at the place you left off. Mr. Denholm--where is -Mister--Mister Den--holm?" - -And the moon-like countenance rose from its eclipse behind six volumes -of Owen (folio edition), while the two smaller moons in permanent -transit directed themselves upon the vacant place in Bench One, from -which Gibby the Eel had construed so glibly with the efficient aid of -"Bagster." - -"Mister--Mist--er Denholm?" - -The Professor knew that he was absent-minded, but (if the expression be -allowable) he could have sworn----. - -"I am here, sir!" - -Gibby the Eel, a little shame-faced and rumpled as to hair, was standing -plump in the very middle of the class-room, in the place where he had -been endeavouring to persuade Nick McFeat to lend him his dress clothes -"to go to a conversazione in," which request Nick cruelly persisted in -refusing, alleging first, that he needed the garments himself, and -secondly, that the Eel desired to go to no "conversazione," but -contrariwise to take a certain Madge Robertson to the theatre. - -At this moment the fateful voice of the Professor broke in upon them -just as they were rising to the height of their great argument. - -"Mister--Den--holm, will you go on where you left off?" - -Gibby rose, signalling wildly for "Bagster," and endeavouring to look as -if he had been a plant of grace rooted and grounded on that very spot. -Professor Galbraith gazed at Gibby _in situ_, then at the place formerly -occupied by him, tried hard to orient the matter in his head, gave it -up, and bade the translation proceed. - -But "Bagster" came not, and Gilbert did not distinguish himself this -time. Indeed, far from it. - -"Will you parse the first verb, Mr. Denholm--no, not that word! That -has usually been considered a substantive, Mr. Denholm--the next word, -ah, yes!" - -"The first aorist, active of--_confound you fellows, where's that -'Bagster'? I call it dashed mean--*yes, sir, it is connected with the -former clause by the particle--*have you not found that book yet? Oh, -you beasts!_" - -(The italics, it is hardly necessary to say, were also spoken in -italics, and were not an integral part of Gibby's examination as it -reached the ear of Professor Galbraith.) - -"Ah, that will do, Mr. Denholm--not so well--not quite so well, -sir--yet" (kindly) "not so vairy ill either." - -And Gilbert sat down to resume the discussion of the dress clothes. By -this time, of course, he considered himself quite safe from further -molestation. The Professor had never been known to call up a man thrice -in one day. So, finding Nick McFeat obdurate in the matter of the dress -suit, Gilbert announced his intention of visiting Kenneth Kennedy, who, -he said pointedly, was not a selfish and unclean animal of the kind -abhorred by Jews, but, contrariwise, a gentleman--one who would lend -dress clothes for the asking. And Kennedy's were better clothes, any -way, and had silk linings. Furthermore, Nick need not think it, he (Mr. -Gilbert Denholm) would not demean himself to put on his (Mr. McFeat's) -dirty "blacks," which had been feloniously filched from a last year's -scarecrow that had been left out all the winter. And furthermore, he -(the said Gilbert) would take Madge Robertson to the theatre in spite of -him, and what was more, cut Nick McFeat out as clean as a leek. - -At this the latter laughed scornfully, affirming that the grapes had a -faintly sub-acid flavour, and bade Gibby go his way. - -Gibby went, tortuously and subterraneously worming his way to the -highest seats in the synagogue, where Kenneth Kennedy, M.A., reposed at -full length upon a vacant seat, having artistically bent a Highland -cloak over a walking-stick to represent scholastic meditation, if -perchance the kindly spectacle of the Professor should turn in his -direction. Gibby gazed rapturously on his friend's sleep, contemplating -him, as once in the Latmian cave Diana gazed upon Endymion. He was -proceeding to ink his friend's face preparatory to upsetting him on the -floor, when he remembered the dress suit just in time to desist. - -"Eel, you are a most infamous pest--can't you let a fellow alone? What -in the world do you want now?" - -Whereupon, with countenance of triple brass, Gibby entered into the -question of the dress suit with subtlety and tact. There never was so -good a chap as Kennedy, never one so generous. He (G.D.) would do as -much for him again, and he would bring it back the next day, pressed by -a tailor. - -Kennedy, however, was not quite so enthusiastic. There are several -points of view in matters of this kind. Kenneth Kennedy did not, of -course, care "a dump" about Madge Robertson, but he had the best -interests of his silk-lined dress coat at heart. - -"That's all very well, Eel," he said, raising himself reluctantly to the -perpendicular; "but you know as well as I do that the last time I lent -it to you, you let some wax drop on the waistcoat, right on the pocket, -and I have never been able to get it out since----" - -Suddenly the pair became conscious that the gentle hum of exegetical -divinity from the rostrum had ceased. The word "Hermeneutics" no longer -soothed and punctuated their converse at intervals of five minutes, like -the look-out's "All's well" on a ship at sea. - -"Ah, Mis--ter Den--holm, perhaps you have recovered yourself by this -time. Be good enough to continue where you left off--Mis--ter -Den--holm--Mister Denholm--where in the world is Mr. Denholm?" - -The spectacles were hardly beaming now. A certain shrewd suspicion -mixed with the wonder in their expression, as Dr. Galbraith gazed from -the Eel's position One to position Two, and back again to position One. -Both were empty as the cloudless empyrean. His wonder culminated when -Gilbert was finally discovered in position Three, high on the sky-line -of Bench Twenty-four! - -How Gilbert acquitted himself on this occasion it is perhaps better not -to relate. I will draw a kindly veil over the lamentable tragedy. It -is sufficient to say that he lost his head completely--as completely -even as the aforesaid Miss Madge Robertson could have wished. - -And all though the disastrous exhibition the Professor did not withdraw -his gaze from the wretched Eel, but continued to rebuke him, as it -seemed, for the astral and insubstantial nature of his body. - -No better proof can be adduced that the Eel had become temporarily -deranged, than the fact that even now, when it was obvious that the long -latent suspicions of the Gentle Hermeneut were at last aroused, he -refused to abide in his breaches; but, scorning all entreaty, and even -Kennedy's unconditioned promise of the dress suit, he proceeded to crawl -down the gallery steps, in order to regain position Number One, in the -front seat under the Professor's very nose. - -_Quos Deus vult perdere, prius dementat._ - -Meanwhile the class, at first raised to a state of ecstatic enjoyment by -the Eel's misfortunes, then growing a little anxious lest he should go -too far, was again subsiding to its wonted peaceful hum, like that of a -vast and well-contented bumble-bee. - -Suddenly we became aware that the Professor was on his feet in the midst -of a stern and awful silence. - -"My eye has fallen," he began solemnly, "on what I do not expect to see. -I hope the--gentleman will remember where he is--and who I am!" - -During the pronouncement of this awful allocution the professorial arm -was extended, and a finger, steady as the finger of Fate, pointed -directly at the unhappy Gibby, who, prone in the dust, appeared to be -meditating a discourse upon the text, "I am a worm and no man!" - -His head was almost on the level of the floor and his limbs extended far -up the gallery stairs. To say that his face was fiery-red gives but a -faint idea of its colour, while a black streak upon his nose proved that -the charwomen of the college were not a whit more diligent than the -students thereof. - -What happened after this is a kind of maze. I suppose that Gibby -regained a seat somewhere, and that the lecture proceeded after a -fashion; but I do not know for certain. Bursts of unholy mirth forced -their way through the best linen handkerchiefs, rolled hard and used as -gags. - -But there grew up a feeling among many that though doubtless there was -humour in the case, the Eel had gone a little too far, and if Professor -Galbraith were genuinely angered he might bring the matter before the -Senatus, with the result that Gilbert would not only lose his bursary, -but be sent down as well, to his father's sorrow and his own loss. - -So when the class was at last over, half-a-dozen of us gathered round -Gibby and represented to him that he must go at once to the -retiring-room and ask the Professor's pardon. - -At first and for long the Eel was recalcitrant. He would not go. What -was he to say? We instructed him. We used argument, appeal, -persuasion. We threatened torture. Finally, yielding to those heavier -battalions on the side of which Providence is said to fight, Gibby was -led to the door with a captor at each elbow. We knocked; he entered. -The door was shut behind him, but not wholly. Half-a-dozen ears lined -the crack at intervals, like limpets clinging to a smooth streak on a -tidal rock. We could not hear the Eel's words. Only a vague murmur -reached us, and I doubt if much more reached Professor Galbraith. The -Eel stopped and there was a pause. We feared its ill omen. - -"Poor Eel, the old man's going to report him!" we whispered to each -other. - -And then we heard the words of the Angelical Scholiast. - -"Shake hands, Mr. Denholm. If, as ye say, this has been a lesson to -you, it has been no less a lesson to me. Let us both endeavour to -profit by it, unto greater diligence and seemliness in our walk and -conversation. We will say no more about the matter, if you please, Mr. -Denholm." - - * * * * * - -We cheered the old man as he went out, till he waved a kindly and -tolerant hand back at us, and there was more than a gleam of humour in -the kindly spectacles, as if our gentle Hermeneut were neither so blind -nor yet so dull in the uptake as we had been accustomed to think him. - -As for the Eel, he became a man from that day, and, to a limited extent, -put away childish things--though his heart will remain ever young and -fresh. His story is another story, and so far as this little study goes -it is enough to say that when at last the aged Professor of Hermeneutics -passed to the region where all things are to be finally explicated, it -was Gilbert Denholm who got up the memorial to his memory, which was -subscribed to by every student without exception he had ever had. And -it was he who wrote Dr. Galbraith's epitaph, of which the last line -runs: - -"GENTLE, A PEACE-MAKER, A LOVER OF GOOD AND OF GOD." - - - - - *DOCTOR GIRNIGO'S ASSISTANT* - - -"Off, ye lendings!" said Gibby the Eel to his heather-mixture -knicker-bocker suit, on the day when his Presbytery of Muirlands -licensed him to preach the gospel. - -And within the self-same hour the Reverend Gilbert Denholm, M.A., -Probationer, in correct ministerial garb, had the honour of dining with -the Presbytery, and of witnessing the remarkable transformation which -overtakes that august body as soon as it dips its collective spoon in -the official soup. - -I knew a Presbytery once which tried to lunch on cold coffee and new -bread. The survivors unanimously took to drink. - -But the Presbytery of Muirlands were sage fathers and brethren, and they -knew better than that. They dined together in a reasonable manner at -the principal inn of the place. An enthusiast, who suggested that they -should transfer their custom to the new Temperance Hotel up near the -railway station, was asked if he had sent in his returns on Life and -Work--and otherwise severely dealt with. - -Gilbert had been remitted to the Presbytery of Muirlands from his own -West Country one of Burnestown, because he had been appointed assistant -to the Reverend Doctor Girnigo of Rescobie; and it was considered more -satisfactory that the Presbytery within whose bounds he was to labour, -should examine him concerning his diligence and zeal. - -So they asked him all the old posers which had made the teeth of former -examinees of the Presbytery of Muirlands chatter in their heads. But the -Eel's teeth did not chatter. He had got a rough list from a friend who -had been that way before, and so passed the bar with flying colours. The -modest way in which the new brother (unattached) behaved himself at -dinner completed Gibby's conquest of the Brethren--with the single but -somewhat important exception of the Reverend Doctor Joseph Girnigo of -Rescobie, Gilbert's future chief. - -It was the cross of Dr. Girnigo's life that his session compelled him to -engage an assistant. Dr. Girnigo felt that here were three hundred -pieces of silver (or more accurately, Ł60 sterling) which ought to have -been given to the poor--that is, to the right breeches' pocket of Joseph -Girnigo--instead of being squandered in providing such a thorn in the -flesh within the parish as a licensed assistant. - -Dr. Girnigo was in the habit of saying, whenever he had made it too hot -for his acting assistant, that he would rather look after three parishes -than one probationer. At first the engaging and dismission of these -unfortunate young men had been placed unreservedly in the Doctor's -hands; but as the affair assumed more and more the appearance and -proportions of a mere procession to and from the railway station, the -members of Session were compelled to assume the responsibility -themselves. So long as the Doctor's sway continued unchallenged, the new -assistant usually arrived in Nether Balhaldie's "machine" on Saturday -night, and departed on Tuesday morning very early in the gig belonging -to Upper Balhaldie. He preached on Sabbath, and Monday was spent in Dr. -Girnigo's study, where it was explained to him: first, that he knew -nothing; secondly, that what he thought he knew was worse than nothing; -thirdly, that there is nothing more hateful than a vain pretence of -earthly learning; and fourthly, that Paul and Silas knew nothing of -"Creeticism." No, they were better employed--aye, and it would be -telling the young men of the day--the conclusion of the whole matter -being that the present victim would never do at all for the parish of -Rescobie and had better go. - -He went, in Upper Balhaldie's gig, and Watty Learmont, the tenant -thereof, who could be trusted to know, said that the rejected -probationers very seldom engaged in prayer (to call prayer) on the road -to the station. I do not know what Watty meant to insinuate, but that -is what he said. He had that mode of speech to perfection which -consists in saying one thing and giving the impression that the speaker -means another. - -But it was felt that this was a state of affairs which could not -continue. It amounted, indeed, to nothing less than a scandal that the -Session should be paying Ł60 for an assistant, and that at the end of -the year eight of these should only have spent exactly twenty-seven days -in the parish, while the remaining three hundred and thirty-eight days -had been occupied by the Doctor in filling the vacancies he had himself -created. Besides, since he always insisted on a week's trial without -salary when he engaged his man (in order, as he said, to discover where -there was a likelihood of the parties being mutually satisfied), the -shrewd business men of the Session saw more than a probability of their -good and hardly gathered sixty "notes" still remaining intact in the -possession of their minister. - -It was, however, the affair of the prayer-meeting which brought the -matter to a head. For after all, such hard-headed bargain-makers as -Learmont, Senior of Balhaldie, and his coadjutors on the Session, could -not help having a sort of respect for the Doctor's business qualities. -But they could not bear to be made a laughing stock of in the market of -Drumfern. - -"What's this I hear aboot your new helper's prayer-meetin' up at -Rescobie?" Cochrane of Tatierigs cried one Wednesday across the mart -ring to Upper Balhaldie. "Is't true that that minister o' yours broke -it up wi' a horse-whup?" - -No, it was not true. But there was enough of truth in it to make the -members of Rescobie Session nervous of public appearances for a long -time, indeed till the affair was forgotten. - -The truth was that during the Doctor's absence at the house of his -married son in Drumfern, Mr. Killigrew, a soft-voiced young man, who, -being exceedingly meek, had been left in charge of the parish, thought -it would be a surprise for his chief if he started a prayer-meeting on -Wednesday evenings in the village schoolhouse. He pictured to himself -his principal's delight when he should hand over the new departure as a -going concern. So he made a house-to-house visitation of Rescobie -village and neighbourhood, this young man with the soft voice. The -popular appeal was favourable. He went round and saw the -school-mistress. She was fond of young men with soft voices (and hats). -She readily consented to lend her harmonium, and to lead the singing -from a certain popular hymn-book. - -The first meeting was an unqualified success, and the young man promptly -began a series of rousing addresses on the "Pilgrim's Progress." There -were to be thirty in all. But alas, for the vanity of human schemes, -the second address (on the Slough of Despond) was scarcely under weigh -when, like an avenging host, or Cromwell entering the Long Parliament, -the Doctor strode into the midst, booted and spurred, as he had ridden -over all the way from Drumfern. He had a riding-whip in his hand, which -was the foundation of the Tatierigs story, but there is no record that -he used it on any in the meeting. - -The services closed without the benediction, and as the Doctor wrath -fully clicked the key in the lock, he said that he would see the -school-mistress in the morning. - -Then he turned to the young man in the soft hat. The remains left -Rescobie early next morning in Upper Balhaldie's gig. - -Since this date it was enough to call out to a Rescobie man, "Ony mair -Pilgrims up your way?" in order to have him set his dogs on you or -wrathfully bring down his herd's crook upon your crown. - -Being thus stirred to action, the Session wrestled with Dr. Girnigo, and -prevailing by the unanswerable argument of the purse-strings, it took -the appointment and dismission of the "helpers" into its own hands. - -So Dr. Girnigo had to try other tactics. Usually he gave the -unfortunate "helper" delivered into his hands no peace night nor day, -till in despair he threw up his appointment, and shook the Rescobie dust -off the soles of his feet. - -First (under the new regime) came Alexander Fairbody, a thoughtful, -studious lad, whom the Doctor set to digging top-dressing into his -garden till his hands were blistered. He would not allow him to preach, -and as to praying, if he wanted to do that he could go to his bedroom. -So Mr. Fairbody endured hardness for ten days, and then resigned in a -written communication, alleging as a reason that he had come to Rescobie -as to work in a spiritual and not in a material vineyard. The Doctor -burked the document, and the Reverend Robert Begg reigned in the stead -of Alexander Fairbody, resigned for cause. - -Mr. Begg was athletic. Him Dr. Girnigo set to the work of arranging his -old sermons, seven barrels full. He was to catalogue them under -eighteen heads, and be prepared to give his reasons in every case. The -first three classes were--"Sermons Enforcing the Duty of Respect for -Ecclesiastical Superiors," "Sermons upon Christian Giving," and "Sermons -Inculcating Humility in the Young." The Reverend Robert Begg would have -enjoyed the digging of the garden. He stood just one full week of the -sermon-arranging. He declared that sixteen of the eighteen classes were -cross divisions, and that the task of looking through the written matter -permanently enfeebled his intellect. Sympathetic friends consoled him -with the reflection that nobody would ever find out. - -On the second Wednesday after his appointment he departed, uttering -sentiments which were a perfect guarantee of good faith (but which were -manifestly not for publication) to Watty Learmont as he journeyed to the -railway station in the Upper Balhaldie gig. - -A new sun rose upon Rescobie with the coming of Gibby the Eel. He had -known both of his predecessors at college, and he had pumped them -thoroughly upon the life and doctrine of their former chief. In -addition to which Gilbert had taken to him a suit of tweeds and a -fishing-rod, and with a piece of bread and cheese in his pocket, and -guile in his heart, he had gone up the Rescobie water, asking for drinks -at the farmhouses on the way, much as he used to perambulate Professor -Galbraith's class-room in his old, abandoned, unregenerate, -sans-dog-collar days. - -Hitherto the helper, a mere transient bird-of-passage, had lodged with -Mistress Honeytongue, the wife of Hosea Honeytongue, the beadle and -minister's man of Rescobie. This brought the youth, as it were, under -the shadow of the manse, and what was more to the point, under the eye -of the minister. But Gilbert Denholm had other aims. - -He took rooms in the village, quite three-quarters of a mile from the -manse, with one Mrs. Tennant, the widow of a medical man in the -neighbourhood who had died without making adequate provision for his -family. She had never taken a lodger before, but since his investiture -in clericals the Eel had filled out to a handsome figure, and he -certainly smiled a most irresistible smile as he stood on the doorstep. - -Gilbert arrived late one Friday night in Rescobie, and speculation was -rife in the parish as to whether he would preach on Sabbath or not. -Most were of the negative opinion, but Watty Learmont, for reasons of -his own, offered to wager a new hat that he would. - -On Saturday morning Gilbert put on his longest tails and his doggiest -collar and marched boldly up to the front door of the manse, with the -general air of playing himself along the road upon war pipes. Perhaps, -however, he was only whistling silently to keep his courage up. - -"Is Miss Girnigo at home?" said he to the somewhat stern-visaged -personage who opened the door. - -"_I_ am Miss Girnigo," said a sepulchral voice. (Miss Girnigo was -suffering from the summer cold which used to be called a "hay fever.") - -"Indeed--I might have known; how delightful!" said the Eel, now, alas! -transformed into an old serpent; "I am so glad to find you at home!" - -"I am always at home!" returned Miss Girnigo, keeping up a semblance of -severity, but secretly mollified by the homage of Gibby's smile. - -"Then I hope you will let me come here very often. I shall find it -lonely in the village, but I thought it better to be near my work," said -Gilbert; "I am staying with Mrs. Tennant, the doctor's widow. Do you -know Mrs. Tennant?" - -"Oh, yes," said Miss Girnigo, smiling for the first time; "she is one of -my dearest friends. I often go there to tea." - -"I love tea," said Gilbert, with enthusiasm; "Mrs. Tennant has invited -me to take tea in her parlour in the afternoon as often as I like, but I -was not expecting such a reward as this!" - -Miss Girnigo was considerably over forty, but she was even more than -youthfully amenable to flattery and to the Eel's beaming and boyish -face. - -"You are the new assistant," she said, "Mister--ah----!" - -"Denholm!" said Gilbert, smiling; "it is a nice name. Don't you think -so?" - -"I have not thought anything about the matter," said Miss Girnigo, -bridling, yet with the ghost of a blush. "I do not charge my mind with -such things. Have you come to see my father?" - -"Yes, after a while. But just at present I would rather see your -plants!" said the Serpent, who had been well coached. (No wonder Watty -Learmont smiled when he asserted that the New Man would preach on -Sunday.) - -Now Miss Girnigo lived chiefly for her flowers. The Serpent had a list -of them, roughly but accurately compiled from the lady's seed-merchant's -ledger by a friend in the business. He had also a fund of information -respecting "plants," very recently acquired, on his mind. - -"How did you know I was fond of flowers?" asked Miss Girnigo. - -"Could any one doubt it?" cried Gilbert, with enthusiasm. "Who was the -Jo----" (he was on the brink of saying "Johnny") "g--gentleman of whom -it was said: 'If you want to see his monument, look around'--Sir -Christopher Wren, wasn't it? Well, I looked around as I came up the -street!" - -And Gilbert took in the whole front of the manse with his glance. It -certainly was very pretty, covered from top to bottom with rambler roses -and Virginia cress. - -Gilbert entered, and as they passed in front of the minister's study -door Miss Girnigo almost skittishly made a sign for silence, and Gilbert -tip-toed past with an exaggeration of caution which made his companion -laugh. They found themselves presently in the drawing-room, where again -the flower-pots were everywhere, but specially banked round the oriel -window. Gilbert named them one after the other like children at a -baptism, with a sort of easy certainty and familiarity. His friend the -nurseryman's clerk had not failed him. Miss Girnigo was delighted. - -"Well," she said, "it _is_ pleasant to have some one who knows Ceterach -Officinarum from a kail-stock. We shall go botanising together!" - -"Ye-es," said Gilbert, a little uncertainly, and with less enthusiasm -than might have been expected. - -"Good heavens," he was saying, "how shall I grind up the beastly thing -if I have to live up to all this?" - -But Miss Girnigo was in high good-humour, though her pleasure was sadly -marred by the incipient cold in her head, which she was conscious -prevented her from doing herself justice. At forty, eyes that water and -a nose tipped with pink do not make for maiden beauty. - -"I have a dreadful cold coming on, Mr. Denholm," she said; "I really am -not fit to be seen. I wonder what I was thinking of to ask you in!" - -"Try this," said Gilbert, pulling a kind of india-rubber puff-ball out -of his pocket; "it is quite good. It makes you sneeze like the -very--ahem--like anything. Stops a cold in no time--won't be happy till -you get it!" - -"I don't dare to--how does it work?" demurred Miss Girnigo. - -Gilbert illustrated, and began to sneeze promptly, as the snuff -titillated his air passages. - -"Now you try!" he said, and smiled. - -Gilbert held it insinuatingly to the lady's nostrils and pumped -vigorously. - -"_A-tish--shoo!_" remarked the lady, as if he had touched a spring. - -"_A-tish--shoo-oo-ooh!_" replied Gilbert. - -After that they responded antiphonally, like Alp answering Alp, till the -door opened and Dr. Girnigo appeared with a half-written sheet of sermon -paper in his hand. - -The guilty pair stood rooted to the ground--at least, spasmodically so, -for every other moment a sneeze lifted one of them upon tiptoe. - -"What is this, Arabella, what is this? What is this young man doing -here?" - -"Don't be--_a-tish--oo_--stupid, papa! You know very well--_shoo_--it -is Mr. Denholm, the new Assist--_aroo_!" - -"Sir!" said Dr. Girnigo, turning upon his junior and angrily stamping -his foot. - -Gilbert held out his hand, and as the Doctor did not take it he waggled -it feebly in the air with a sort of impotent good-fellowship. - -"All right," he said; "better presently--only c-curing Miss--Miss -Girni--_goo-ahoo--arish-chee-hoo_--of a cold!" - -"I do not know any one of that name, sir!" thundered the Doctor, not -wholly unreasonably. - -"No?" said Gilbert, anxiously; "I understood that this--_a-tishoo_--lady -was Miss Girnigo, though I thought she was too young for a -daughter--your granddaughter, perhaps, Doctor?" - -And the smile once more took in Miss Girnigo as if she had been a -beautiful picture. - -By this time Miss Girnigo had somewhat recovered. - -"Papa," she said, sharply, "Mr. Denholm is going to be such an -acquisition. He is a botanist--a Fellow of the Linnćan Society, I -understand----" - -"Of Pittenweem," muttered Gilbert between his teeth. - -"And he is going to preach on Sunday. You have had a lot to worry you -this week and need a rest. Besides, your best shirts are not -ironed---not dry indeed. The weather has been so bad!" - -"I had made up my mind to preach on Sabbath myself," said Dr. Girnigo, -who, though a tyrant untamed without, was held in considerable -subjection to the higher power within the bounds of his own house. - -"Nonsense, papa--I will not allow you to think of such a thing!" cried -Miss Girnigo. "Besides, Mr. Denholm is coming to supper to-night, and -we will talk botany all the time!" - - * * * * * - -Which was why the Eel, falling off his bicycle at 1.45 p.m. that same -day in front of my house in Cairn Edward (sixteen miles away), burst -into my consulting-room with the following demand, proclaimed in -frenzied accents: "Lend me your Bentley's Botany, or something--not that -beastly jaw-breaking German thing you are so fond of, but something -plain and easy, with the names of all the plants in. I have the whole -thing to get up by eight o'clock to-night, and I'll eat my head if I can -remember what a cotyledon is!" - -It is believed that on the way back the Eel studied Bentley, cunningly -adjusted on the handlebar, with loops of string to keep the pages from -fluttering. (He was a trick-rider of repute.) At any rate, he did not -waste his time, and arrived at the manse so full of botanical terms that -he had considerable difficulty in making himself intelligible to the -maid, who on this occasion, being cleaned up, opened the door to him in -state. - -This was the beginning of the taming of the tiger. Gilbert preached the -next forenoon, and pleased the Doctor greatly by the excellent taste of -his opening remarks upon his text, which was, "To preach the gospel ... -and not to boast in another man's line of things made ready to our -hand." - -The preacher, as a new and original departure, divided his subject into -three heads, as followeth: First, "The Duty of Respect for -Ecclesiastical Superiors"; second, "The Duty of Christian Liberality" -(he had to drag this in neck and crop); and thirdly, "The Supreme Duty -of Humility in the Young with respect to their Elders." - -While he was looking it over on Sunday morning Gilbert heartily -confounded his friend Begg for forgetting the other fifteen divisions of -Dr. Girnigo's sermons. - -"I could have made a much better appearance if that fellow Begg had had -any sense!" he said to himself. "But" (with a sigh) "I must just do the -best I can with these." - -Nevertheless, Dr. Girnigo considered that Gibby had surpassed himself in -his application. He showed how any good that he might do in the parish -must not be set down to his credit, but to that of Another who had so -long laboured among them; and how that he (the preacher), being but "as -one entering upon another man's line of things," it behoved him above -all things not to be boastful. - -"A very sound address--quite remarkable in one so young!" was the -Doctor's verdict as he met the Session after the close of Gilbert's -first service. - -The Session and congregation, however, did not approve quite so highly, -having had a surfeit of similar teaching during the past forty years. - -But Walter Learmont, senior (sad to tell it of an Elder), winked the -sober eye and remarked to his intimates: "Bide a wee--he kens his way -aboot, thon yin. He wad juist be drawin' the auld man's leg!" - -At any rate, certain it is that after this auspicious beginning Gibby -the Eel (M.A.) remained longer in Rescobie than all his predecessors put -together. - -But it was to Jemima Girnigo that he owed this. - - - - - *THE GATE OF THE UPPER GARDEN* - - -For the first six months that Gibby the Eel, otherwise the Reverend -Gilbert Denholm, M.A., acted as "helper" to Dr. Joseph Girnigo in the -parish of Rescobie, he was much pleased with himself. He laughed with -his friend and classmate, Robertland, over the infatuation of the -doctor's old maid daughter. The parish, reading the situation like a -book, smiled broadly when the "helper" and Miss Jemima Girnigo were -discerned on an opposite braeface, botanising together, or, with heads -bent over some doubtful bloom, stood silhouetted against the sunlit -green of some glade in Knockandrews wood. - -During this period Gibby hugged himself upon his cleverness, but the -time came when he began to have his doubts. What to him was a -lightheart prank, an "Eel's trick," like his college jest of squirming -secretly under class-room benches, was obviously no jest to this -pale-eyed, sharp-featured maiden of one-and-forty. - -Jemima Girnigo had never been truly young. Repressed and domineered over -as a child, she had been suddenly promoted by her mother's death to the -care of a household and the responsibility of training a bevy of younger -brothers, all now out in the world and doing for themselves. Her life -had grown more and more arid and self-contained. She had nourished her -soul on secret penances, setting herself hard household tasks, and doing -with only one small, untaught, slatternly maid from the village, in -order that her father might be able to assist his sons into careers. -She read dry theology to mortify a liking for novels, and shut up her -soul from intercourse with her equals, conscious, perhaps, that visitors -would infallibly discover and laugh at her father's meannesses and -peculiarities. - -Only her flowers kept her soul sweet and a human heart beating within -that buckram-and-whalebone-fenced bosom. - -Then, all suddenly came Gilbert Denholm with his merry laugh, his -light-heart ways (which she openly reproved, but secretly loved), his -fair curls clustering about his brow, and his way of throwing back his -head as if to shake them into place. Nothing so young, so winsome, or so -gay had ever set foot within that solemn dreich old manse. It was like a -light-heart city beauty coming to change the life and disturb the -melancholy of some stern woman-despising hermit. But Jemima Girnigo's -case was infinitely worse, in that she was a woman and the disturber of -her peace little better than a foolish boy. - -But Gilbert Denholm, kindly lad though he was, saw no harm. He was -only, he thought, impressing himself upon the parish. He saw himself -daily becoming more popular. No farmer's party was considered to be -anything which wanted his ready wit and contagious merriment. Already -there was talk among the Session of securing him as permanent assistant -and successor. There were fairways and clear sunlit vistas before -Gilbert Denholm; and he liked his professional prospects all the better -that he owed them to his own wit and knowledge of the world. He was a -good preacher. He made what is called an excellent appearance in the -pulpit. He did not "read." His fluency of utterance held sleepy -ploughmen in a state of blinking attention for the better part of an -hour. Even Dr. Girnigo commended, and Gibby who had no more abundant or -direct "spiritual gifts" than are the portion of most kind-hearted, -well-brought-up Scottish youths, was unconscious of his lack of any -higher qualifications for the Christian ministry. - -But Gibby was like hundreds, aye, thousands more, who break the bread -and open unto men the Scriptures in all the churches. His office meant -to him a career, not a call. His work was the expression of hearty -human goodwill to all men--and so far helpful and godlike; but he had -never tasted sorrow, never drunken of the cup of remorse as a daily -beverage, never "dreed" the common weird of humanity. Sorely he needed -a downsetting. He must endure hardness, be driven out of self to the -knowledge that self is nowise sufficient for a sinful man. - -Even Jemima Girnigo was a far better servant of God than the man who had -spent seven years in preparation for that service. In the shut deeps of -her heart there were locked up infinite treasures of self-sacrifice. -Love was pitifully ready to look forth from those pale eyes at whose -corners the crow's feet were already clutching. And so it came to pass -that, knowing her folly (and yet, in a way, defying it), this old maid -of forty-one loved the handsome youth of four-and-twenty, the only human -love-compelling thing that had ever come into her sombre life. - -Yet there were times when Jemima Girnigo's heart was bitter within her, -even as there were seasons when the crowding years fell away and she -seemed almost young and fair. Jemima had never been either very pretty -or remarkably attractive, but now when the starved instincts of her lost -youth awoke untimeously within her, she unconsciously smiled and tossed -her head, to the full as coquettishly as a youthful beauty just becoming -conscious of her own power. - -It was all very pitiful. But Gibby passed on his heedless way and saw -not, neither recked of his going. - - * * * * * - -Yet a time came when his eyes were opened. A new paper-mill had come to -Rescobie, migrating from somewhere in the East country, where the -Messrs. Coxon had had a serious quarrel with their ground landlord. -From being a quiet hamlet the village of Rescobie began rapidly to put -on the airs of a growing town. Tall houses of three storeys, with many -windows and outside stairs, usurped the place of little old-fashioned -"but-and-bens." Red brick oblongs of mill frontage rose along the -valley of the Rescobie Water, which, dammed and weired and carried along -countless lades, changed the cheerful brown limpidity of its youthful -stream for a frothy mud colour below the mills. - -The new immigrants were mostly a sedate and sober folk, as indeed, -nearly all paper-makers are. To the easy-going villagers their diligence -seemed phenomenal. They were flocking into the mill gates by six in the -morning. It was well nigh six in the evening before the tide flowed -back toward the village. Among the youths and men there was night-shift -and day-shift, and a new and strange pallor began to pervade the street -and show itself, carefully washed, in the gallery of Rescobie Kirk. The -village girls, finding that they could make themselves early -independent, took their places in the long "finishing saal," while -elderly women, for whom there had been no outlook except the poorhouse, -found easy work and a living wage in Coxon's rag-house. - -The increase of the congregation in the second year of Gilbert Denholm's -assistantship compelled the Session to bethink themselves of some more -permanent and satisfactory arrangement. Finally, after many private -meetings they resolved to beard the lion in his den and lay before Dr. -Girnigo the proposal that Gilbert should be officially called and -ordained as the old man's "colleague and successor." - -It was the ruling elder, called, after the name of his farm, Upper -Balhaldie, who belled the cat and made the fateful proposition. In so -doing that shrewd and cautious man was considered to have excelled -himself. But Dr. Girnigo was far from being appeased. - -"Sirs," he said, "I have been sole minister of the parish of Rescobie -for forty years, and sole minister of it I shall die!" - -"Mr. Denholm will be to you as a son!" suggested Balhaldie. - -"I have sons of my body," said the old minister, looking full at the -quiet men before him, who sat on the edges of their several chairs -fingering the brims of their hats; "did I make any of them a minister? -Nay, sirs, and for this reason: because the parish of Rescobie has been -so near my heart that I would not risk even the fruit of my body coming -between me and it!" - -"We have sounded Mr. Denholm," said Balhaldie, quietly ignoring the -sentimental, "and you may rest assured that you will not be disturbed in -your tenancy of the manse. Mr. Denholm has no thought at present of -changing his condition, and is quite content with his lodging--and an -eident carfu' woman is his landlady the doctor's weedow!" - -"Aye, she is that!" concurred several of the Session, speaking for the -first time. It was a relief to have something concrete to which they -could assent. - -Dr. Girnigo looked at his Session. They seemed to shrink before him. -Nervousness quivered on their countenances. They tucked their -heavily-booted feet beneath the chairs on which they sat, to be out of -the way. The brims of their hats were rapidly wearing out. Surely such -men could never oppose him. - -But Dr. Girnigo knew better. Underneath that awkward exterior, in spite -of those embarrassed manners, that air of anxious self-effacement, Dr. -Girnigo was well aware that there abode inflexible determination, shrewd -common sense and abounding humour--chiefly, however, of the ironic sort. - -"Are ye all agreed on this?" he asked. - -"I speak in name of the Session!" said Upper Balhaldie succinctly, -looking around the circle. And as he looked each man nodded slightly, -without, however, raising his eyes from the pattern on the worn study -carpet. - -The Doctor sighed a long sigh. He knew that at last his trial was come -upon him, and nerved himself to meet it like a man. - -"It is well," he said; "I shall offer no objection to the congregation -calling Mr. Denholm, and I can only hope that he will serve you as -faithfully as I have done! I wish you a very good day, gentlemen!" - -And with these words the old minister went out, leaving the Session to -find their way into the cold air as best they might. - -The day after the interview between the Session and the Doctor, Gilbert -Denholm called at the manse. He came bounding up the little avenue -between the lilac and rhododendron bushes. Jemima Girnigo heard his foot -long ere he had reached the porch. Nay, before he had set foot on the -gravel she caught the click of the gate latch, which was loose and would -only open one way. This Gibby always forgot and rattled it fiercely -till he remembered the trick of it. - -Then when she heard the _rat-tat-tat_ of Gibby's ash-plant on the panels -of the door, she caught her hand to her heart and stood still among her -plants. - -There was a bell, but Gibby was always in too great a hurry to ring it. - -"Perhaps he has come to----" She did not finish the sentence, but the -blood, rising hotly to her poor withered cheeks, finished it for her. - -"Oh, Miss Jemima!" cried Gibby, bursting in; "I came up to tell you -first. I owe it all to you--every bit of it. They are going to call me -to be colleague--and--and--we can botanise any amount. Isn't it -glorious?" - -He held her hand while he was speaking; and Jemima had been looking with -hope into his frank, enkindled, boyish eyes. Her eyelids fell at his -announcement. - -"Yes," she faltered after a pause, "we can botanise!" - -"And they wanted to know if I would like to have the manse--as if I -would turn you out, who have been my best friend here ever since I came -to Rescobie! Not very likely!" - -Gilbert had an honest liking for Jemima Girnigo, a feeling, however, -which was not in the least akin to love. Indeed, he would as soon have -thought of marrying his grandmother or any other of the relationships in -the table of prohibited degrees printed at the beginning of the -Authorised Version, which he sometimes looked at furtively when Dr. -Girnigo was developing his "fourteenthly." - -"You are happy where you are?" said Jemima, smiling a little wistfully. - -"Oh, yes," cried Gibby enthusiastically; "my landlady makes me perfectly -comfortable. She thinks I am a lost soul, I am afraid, but in the -meantime she comforts me with apples--first-rate they are in dumplings, -too, I can tell you!" - -While he spoke Jemima Girnigo was much absorbed over a plant in a remote -corner, and more than one drop of an alien dew glistened upon its leaves -ere she turned again to the window. Gibby's enthusiasm was a little -damped by her seeming indifference. - -"Are you not glad?" he asked anxiously; "I came to tell you first. I -thought what good times we should have. We must go up Barstobrick Hill -for the parsley fern before it gets too late." - -"Oh, yes," said Jemima Girnigo, holding out her hand, "I am very glad. -No one is as glad as I--I want you to believe that!" - -"Of course I do!" cried Gibby; "you always were a good fellow, Jemima! -We'll go up to Barstobrick to-morrow. Mind you are ready by nine. I -have to be back for a meeting in the afternoon early. It is a hungry -place. Put some 'prog' in the _vasculum_!" - -And as from the parlour window she watched him down the gravel, he -turned around and wrote "9 A.M." in large letters on the gravel with his -ash-plant, tossed his hand up at her in a gay salute, and was gone. - - * * * * * - -But Gilbert Denholm and Jemima Girnigo did not climb Barstobrick for -parsley fern on the morrow, and the "9 A.M." stood long plain upon the -gravel as a monument of the frail and futile intents of man. - -For before the morrow's morn had dawned there had fallen upon Rescobie -the dreaded scourge of all paper-making villages. Virulent small-pox -had broken out. There were already four undoubted cases, all emanating -from the rag-house of Coxon's mills. - -About the streets and close-mouths stood awe-struck groups of girls, -uncertain whether to go on with their work or return home. There was -none of the usual horse-play among the lads of the day-shift as they -went soberly mill-ward with their cans. Grave elders, machinemen and -engineers, shook their heads and recalled the date at which (a fortnight -before) a large consignment of Russian rags had been received and -immediately put in hand. - -It was whispered, on what authority did not appear, that the disease was -of the malignant "black" variety, and that all smitten must surely die. -Fear ran swift and chilly up each outside staircase and entered unbidden -every "land" in Rescobie. It was the first time such a terror had been -in the village, and those who had opposed the settlement of the mills, -staid praisers of ancient quiet, lifted their hands with something of -jubilation mixed with their fear. "Verily, the judgment of God has -fallen," they said, "even as in a night it fell on Babylon--as in fire -and brimstone it came upon the Cities of the Plain." - -Dr. Girnigo retired to his study, feeling that if the Session had -allowed him his own way, things would not have been as they were. He -had a sermon to write. So he mended a quill pen, took out his -sermon-paper (small quarto ruled in blue), and set to work to improve -the occasion. He said to himself that since the parish had now a young -and active minister, it was good for Gilbert Denholm to bear the yoke in -his youth. - -And, indeed, none was readier for the work than that same Gilbert. He -was shaving when his landlady, the doctor's widow, cried in the -information through the panels of his closed door. - -"Thank God," murmured Gibby, "that I have none to mourn for me if I -don't get through this!" - -Then he thought of his father, but, as he well knew, that fine old -Spartan was too staunch a fighter in the wars of grace to discourage his -son from any duty, however dangerous. He thought next of--well, one or -two girls he had known--and was glad now that it had gone no further. - -He did not know yet what was involved in the outbreak or what might be -demanded of him. Gilbert Denholm may have had few of the peculiar graces -of spiritual religion, but he was a fine, manly, upstanding young -fellow, and he resolved that he would do his duty as if he had been -heading a rush of boarders or standing in the deadly imminent breach. -More exactly, perhaps, he did not resolve at all. It never occurred to -him that he could do anything else. - -As soon as he had snatched a hasty breakfast and thrown on his coat, he -hurried up to the house of Dr. Durie. A plain blunt man was John -Durie--slim, pale, with keen dark eyes, and a pointed black beard -slightly touched with gray. The doctor was not at home. He had not been -in all night and the maid did not know where he was to be found. - -To the right-about went Gilbert, asking all and sundry as he went where -and when they had seen the doctor. Thomas Kyle, with his back against -the angle of the Railway Inn, averred that he had seen him "an 'oor syne -gangin' gye fast into Betty McGrath's--but they say Betty is deid or -this!" he added, somewhat irrelevantly. Chairles Simson, tilting his -bonnet over his brows in order to scratch his head in a new and -attractive spot, deponed that about ten minutes before he had noticed -"the tails o' the doctor's coat gaun roond the Mill-lands' corner like -stoor on a windy day." - -Gibby tried Betty McGrath's first. Yes, Dr. Durie had ordered everybody -out except the sick woman, who was tossing on her truckle bed, calling -on the Virgin and all the saints in a shrill Galway dialect, and her -daughter Bridget, a heavy-featured girl of twenty, who stood -disconsolately looking out at the window as if hope had wholly forsaken -her heart. - -Gibby inquired if the doctor had been there recently. - -"Oh, yes," said Bridget; "as ye may see if ye'll be troubled lookin' in -the corner. He tore down all thim curtains off the box-bed. It'll -break the ould woman's heart, that it will, if ever the craitur gets -over this." - -At the door Gibby met Father Phil Kavannah, a tall young man with honest -peasant's eyes and a humorous mouth. - -"You and I, surr, will have to see this through between us," said Father -Phil, grasping his hand. - -"It is a bad business," responded Gilbert; "I fear it will run through -the mills." - -"Worse than ye think," said the priest very gravely, "ten times -worse--three-fourths of the workers have no relatives here, and there -will be no one to nurse them. They've talked lashin's about the new -village hospital, and raised all Tipperary about where it is to stand -and what it is to cost, but that's all that's done about it yet." - -Gilbert whistled a bar of "Annie Laurie," which he kept for emergencies. - -"Well," he said slowly, "it will be like serving a Sunday-school picnic -with half a loaf and one jar of marmalade--but we'll just need to see -how far we can make ourselves go round!" - -"Right!" said Father Phil with a wave of his hand as he stood with his -fingers on the latch of Betty McGrath's door. - -Gilbert found the doctor in the great "saal" at the mills. He had his -coat off and was scraping at bared arms for dear life. At each door -stood a pair of stalwart sentinels, and several hundred mill workers -were grouped about talking in low-voiced clusters. Only here and there -one more diligent than the rest, or with quieter nerves, deftly passed -sheets of white paper from hand to hand as if performing a conjuring -trick. - -The doctor spied Gilbert as he entered. They were excellent friends. -"Man," he cried across the great room, looking down again instantly to -his work, "run up to the surgery for another tube of vaccine like this. -It is in B cabinet, shelf 6. And as you come back, wire for -half-a-dozen more. You know where I get them!" - -And Gilbert sped upon his first errand. After that he deserted his own -lodgings, and he and Dr. Durie took hasty and informal meals when they -could snatch a moment from work. Sundry cold edibles stood permanently -on the doctor's oaken sideboard, and of these Gilbert and his host -partook without sitting down. Then on a couch, or more often on a few -rugs thrown on the floor, one or the other would snatch a hurried sleep. - -There were twenty-six cases on Saturday--fifty-eight by the middle of -the following week. Within the same period nine had terminated fatally, -and there were others who could not possibly recover. Nurses came in -from the great city hospitals, as they could be spared, but the demand -far exceeded the supply, and Gilbert was indefatigable. Yet his laugh -was cheery as ever, and even the delirious would start into some faint -consciousness of pleasure at the sound of his voice. - -But one day the young minister awoke with a racking head, a burning -body, a dry throat, and the chill of ice in his bones. - -"This is nothing--I will work it off," said Gibby; and, getting up, he -dressed with haste and went out without touching food. The thought of -eating was abhorrent to him. Nevertheless, he did his work all the -forenoon, and went here and there with medicine and necessaries. He -relieved a nurse who had been two nights on duty, while she slept for -six hours. Then after that he set off home to catch Dr. Durie before he -could be out again. For he had heard his host come in and throw himself -down on the couch while he was dressing. - -As he passed the front of Rescobie Manse, he looked up to wave a hand to -Jemima, as he never forgot to do. Her father was still "indisposed," -and Miss Girnigo was understood to be taking care of him. Yes, there -she was among her flowers, and Gibby, hardly knowing what he did--being -light-headed and racked with pain--openly kissed his hand to her within -sight of half-a-score of Rescobie windows. - -Then, his feet somehow tangling themselves and his knees failing him, he -fell all his length in the hot dust of the highway. - - * * * * * - -When Gilbert Denholm came to himself he found a white-capped nurse -sitting by the window of a room he had never before seen. There was a -smell of disinfectants all about, which somehow seemed to have followed -him through all the boundless interstellar spaces across which he had -been wandering. - -"Where am I?" said Gibby, as the nurse came toward the bed. "I have not -seen Betty McGrath this morning, and I promised Father Phil that I -would." - -"You must not ask questions," said the nurse quietly. "Dr. Durie will -soon be here." - -And after that with a curious readiness Gibby slipped back into a drowsy -dream of gathering flowers with Jemima Girnigo; but somehow it was -another Jemima--so young she seemed, so fair. Crisp curls glanced -beneath her hat brim. Young blood mantled in changeful blushes on her -cheeks. Her pale eyes, which had always been a little watery, were now -blue and bright as a mountain tarn on a day without clouds. He had -never seen so fair and joyous a thing. - -"Jemima," he said, or seemed to himself to say, "what is the matter with -you? You are different somehow." - -"It is all because you love me, Gilbert," she answered, and smiled up at -him. "Ever since you told me that, I have grown younger every hour; -and, do you know, I have found the Grass of Parnassus at last. It grows -by the Gate into the Upper Garden?" - - * * * * * - -"Hello, Denholm, clothed and in your right mind, eh? That's right!" - -It was the cheerful voice of his friend, Dr. Durie, as he stood by -Gibby's bedside. - -"What has been the matter with me, Durie?" said Gilbert, though in his -heart he knew. - -"You have had bad small-pox, my boy; and have had a hot chance to find -out whether you have been speaking the truth in your sermons." - -Gibby could hardly bring his lips to frame the next question. He was -far from vain, but to a young man the thought was a terrible one. - -"Shall I be much disfigured?" - -"Oh, a dimple or two--nothing to mar you on your marriage day. You have -been well looked after." - -"You have saved my life, doctor." - -And Gibby strove to reach a feeble hand outward, which, however, the -doctor did not seem to see. - -"Not I--you owe that to some one else." - -"The nurse who went out just now?" queried Gibby. - -"No, she has just been here a few clays, after all danger had passed." - -Gilbert strove to rise on his elbow and the red flushed his poor face. - -The doctor restrained him with a strong and gentle hand. - -"Lie back," he said, "or I will go away and tell you nothing." - -He sat down by the bedside, and with a soft sponge touched the -convalescent's brow. As he did so he spoke in a low and meditative tone -as though he had been talking to himself. - -"There was once a foolish young man who thought that he could take -twenty shillings out of a purse into which he had only put half a -sovereign. He fell down one day on the street. A woman carried him in -and nursed him through a fortnight's delirium. A woman caught him as he -ran, with only a blanket about him, to drown himself in the Black Pool -of Rescobie Water. Night and day she watched him, sleepless, without -weariness, without murmuring----" - -"And this woman--who saved my life--what was--her name?" - -Gibby's voice was very hoarse. - -"Jemima Girnigo!" said the doctor, sinking his voice also to a whisper. - -"Where is she--I want to see her--I want to thank her?" cried Gibby. He -was actually upon his elbow now. - -Dr. Dune forced him gently back upon the pillows. - -"Yes, yes," he said soothingly, "so you shall--if all tales be true; but -for that you must wait." - -"Why--why?" cried impatient Gibby. "Why cannot I see her now? She has -done more for me than ever I deserved----" - -"That is the way of women," said the doctor, "but you cannot thank her -now. She is dead." - -"Dead--dead!" gasped Gilbert, stricken to the heart; "then she gave her -life for me!" - -"Something like it," said the doctor, a trifle grimly. For though he -was a wise man, the ways of women were dark to him. He thought that -Gilbert, though a fine lad, was not worth all this. - -"Dead," muttered Gibby, "and I cannot even tell her--make it up to -her----" - -"She left you a message," said the doctor very quietly. - -"What was it?" cried Gibby, eagerly. - -"Oh, nothing much," said Dr. Durie; "there was no hope from the first, -and she knew it. Her mind was clear all the three days, almost to the -last. She may have wandered a little then, for she told me to tell -you----" - -"What--what--oh, what? Tell me quickly. I cannot wait." - -"That the flowers were blooming in the Upper Garden, and that she would -meet you at the Gate!" - - * * * * * - -The Reverend Gilbert Denholm never married. He bears a scar or two on -his open face--a face well beloved among his people. There is a grave -in Rescobie kirkyard that he tends with his own hands. None else must -touch it. - -It is the resting-place of a woman whom love made young and beautiful, -and about whose feet the flowers of Paradise are blooming, as, alone but -not impatient, she waits his coming by the Gate. - - - - - *THE TROUBLER OF ISRAEL* - - -Unless you happen to have made one of a group of five or six young men -who every Sunday morning turned their steps towards the little -meeting-house in Lady Nixon's Wynd, it is safe to say that you did not -know either it or the Doctor of Divinity. That is to say, not unless -you were born in the Purple and expert of the mysteries of the Kirk of -the Covenants. - -The denomination was a small one, smaller even and poorer than is the -wont of Scottish sects. By the eternal process of splitting off, -produced by the very faithfulness of the faithful, and the remorseless -way in which they carried out their own logic, by individual pretestings -and testifyings, by the yet sadder losses inflicted by the mammon of -unrighteousness, when some, allured by social wealth and position, -turned aside to worship in some richer or more popular Zion, the Kirk of -the Covenants worshipping in Lady Nixon's Wynd had become but the shadow -of its former self. - -Still, however, by two infallible signs you might know the faithful. -They spoke of the "Boady" and of the "Coavenants" with a lengthening of -that _O_ which in itself constituted a shibboleth, and their faces--grim -and set mostly--lit up when you spoke of the "Doctor." - -But one--they had but one--Dr. Marcus Lawton of Lady Nixon's Wynd. He -was their joy, their pride, their poetry; the kitchen to their sour -controversial bread, the mellow glory of their denomination. (Again you -must broaden the _a_ indefinitely.) He had once been a professor, but -by the noblest of self-denying ordinances he had extruded himself from -his post for conscience sake. - -There was but one fly in their apothecary's ointment-pot when my father -grew too stiff to attend the Kirk of the Covenants even once a year, and -that was that the Doctor, unable to live and bring up a family on a -sadly dwindling stipend (though every man and woman in the little kirk -did almost beyond their possible to increase it), had been compelled to -bind himself to spend part of the day in a secular pursuit. - -At least to the average mind his employment could hardly be called -"secular," being nothing more than the Secretaryship of the Association -for the Propagation of Gospel Literature; but to the true covenant man -this sonorous society was composed of mere Erastians, or what was little -better, ex-Erastians and common Voluntaries. They all dated from 1689, -and the mark of the beast was on their forehead--that is to say, the -seal of the third William, the Dutchman, the revolutionary Gallio. Yet -their Doctor, with his silver hair, his faithful tongue, his reverence, -wisdom, and weight of indubitable learning, had to sit silent in the -company of such men, to take his orders from them, and even to record -their profane inanities in black and white. The Doctor's office was at -the corner of Victoria Street as you turn down towards the Grassmarket. -And when any of his flock met him coming or going thither, they turned -away their heads--that is, if he had passed the entrance to Lady Nixon's -Wynd when they met him. So far it was understood that he _might_ be -going to write his sermon in the quiet of the vestry. After that, there -was no escape from the damning conclusion that he was on his way to the -shrine of Baal--and other Erastian divinities. So upon George Fourth -Bridge the Covenant folk turned away their heads and did not see their -minister. - -Now this is hardly a story--certainly not a tale. Only my heart being -heavy, I knew it would do me good to turn it upon the Doctor. Dr. Marcus -Lawton was the son of Dr. Marcus Lawton. When first he succeeded his -father, which happened when he was little more than a boy, and long -before I was born, he was called "young Maister Lawton." Then it was -that he lectured on "The Revelation" on Sabbath evenings, his father -sitting proudly behind him. Then the guttering candles of Lady Nixon's -looked down on such an array as had never been seen before within her -borders. College professors were there, ministers whose day's work was -over--as it had been, Cretes and Arabians, heathen men and publicans. -Edward Irving himself came once, in the weariful days before the great -darkness. The little kirk was packed every night, floor and loft, aisle -and pulpit stairs, entrance hall and window-sill, with such a crowd of -stern, grave-visaged men as had never been gathered into any kirk in the -town of Edinburgh, since a certain little fair man called Rutherford -preached there on his way to his place of exile in Aberdeen. - -So my father has often told me, and you may be sure he was there more -than once, having made it a duty to do his business with my lord's -factor at a time when his soul also might have dealings with the most -approven factors of Another Lord. - -These were great days, and my father (Alexander McQuhirr of Drumwhat), -still kindles when he tells of them. No need of dubious secretaryships -then, or of the turning away of faithful heads at the angle of the -Candlemaker-row. No young family to be provided for, Doctorate coming -at the Session's close from his own university, Professorship on the -horizon, a united Body of the devout to minister to! And up there in -the pulpit a slim young man with drawing power in the eyes of him, and a -voice which even then was mellow as a blackbird's flute, laying down the -law of his Master like unto the great of old who testified from -Cairntable even unto Pentland, and from the Session Stane at -Shalloch-on-Minnoch to where the lion of Loudon Hill looks defiant -across the green flowe of Drumclog. - -But when I began to attend Lady Nixon's regularly, things were sorely -otherwise. The kirk was dwindled and dwindling---in membership, in -influence, most of all in finance. But not at all in devotion, not in -enthusiasm, not in the sense of privilege that those who remained were -thought worthy to sit under such faithful ministrations as those of the -Doctor. There was no more any "young Maister Lawton." Nor was a -comparison pointed disparagingly by a reference to "the Auld Doctor, -young Dr. Marcus's faither, ye ken." - -From the alert, keen-faced, loyal-hearted precentor (no hireling he) to -the grave and dignified "kirk-officer" there were not two minds in all -that little body of the faithful. - -You remember MacHaffie-a steadfast man Haffie--no more of his name ever -used. Indeed, it was but lately that I even knew he owned the prefatory -Mac. He would give you a helpful hint oftentimes (after you had passed -the plate), "It's no himsel' the day!" Or more warningly and -particularly, "It's a student." Then Haffie would cover your retreat, -sometimes going the length of making a pretence of conversation with you -as far as the door, or on urgent occasions (as when the Doctor was so -far left to himself as to exchange with a certain "popular preacher") -even taking you downstairs and letting you out secretly by a postern -door which led, in the approven manner of romances, into a side street -down which, all unseen, you could escape from your fate. But Haffie -always kept an eye on you to see that you did not abstract your penny -from the plate. That was the payment he exacted for his good offices; -and as I could not afford two pennies on one Sunday morning, Haffie's -"private information" usually drove me to Arthur's Seat, or down to -Granton for a smell of the salt water; and I can only hope that this is -set down to Haffie's account in the books of the recording angel. - -But all this was before the advent of Gullibrand. You have heard of him, -I doubt not--Gullibrand of Barker, Barker, & Gullibrand, provision -merchants, with branches all over the three kingdoms. His name is on -every blank wall. - -Gullibrand was not an Edinburgh man. He came, they say, from Leicester -or some Midland English town, and brought a great reputation with him. -He had been Mayor of his own city, a philanthropist almost by -profession, and the light and law-giver of his own particular sect -always. I have often wondered what brought him to Lady Nixon's Wynd. -Perhaps he was attracted by the smallness of our numbers, and by the -thought that, in default of any congregation of his own peculiar sect in -the northern metropolis, he could "boss" the Kirk of the Covenants as he -had of a long season "bossed" the Company of Apocalyptic Believers. - -It was said, with I know not what truth, that the first time Mr. -Gullibrand came to the Kirk of the Covenants, the Doctor was lecturing -in his ordinary way upon Daniel's Beast with Ten Horns. And, if that be -so, our angelical Doctor had reason to rue to the end of his life that -the discourse had been so faithful and soul-searching. Though -Gullibrand thought his interpretation of the ninth horn very deficient, -and told him so. But he was so far satisfied that he intimated his -intention of "sending in his lines" next week. - -At first it was thought to be a great thing that the Kirk of the -Covenants in Lady Nixon's Wynd should receive so wealthy and -distinguished an adherent. - -"Quite an acquisition, my dear," said the hard-pressed treasurer, -thinking of the ever increasing difficulty of collecting the stipend, -and of the church expenses, which had a way of totalling up beyond all -expectation. - -"Bide a wee, Henry," said his more cautious wife; "to see the colour o' -the man's siller is no to ken the colour o' his heart." - -And to this she added a thoughtful rider. - -"And after a', what does a bursen Englishy craitur like yon ken aboot -the Kirk o' the Co-a-venants?" - -And as good Mistress Walker prophesied as she took her douce way -homeward with her husband (honorary treasurer and unpaid precentor) down -the Middle Meadow Walk, even so in the fulness of time it fell out. - -Mr. Jacob Gullibrand gave liberally, at which the kindly heart of the -treasurer was elate within him. Mr. Jacob Gullibrand got a vacant seat -in the front of the gallery which had once belonged to a great family -from which, the faithful dying out, the refuse had declined upon a -certain Sadducean opinon calling itself Episcopacy; and from this -highest seat in the synagogue Mr. Jacob blinked with a pair of fishy -eyes at the Doctor. - -Then in the fulness of time Mr. Jacob became a "manager," because it was -considered right that he should have a say in the disposition of the -temporalities of which he provided so great a part. Entry to the Session -was more difficult. For the Session is a select and conservative -body--an inner court, a defenced place set about with thorns and not to -be lightly approached; but to such a man as Gullibrand all doors in the -religious world open too easily. Whence cometh upon the Church of God -mockings and scorn, the strife of tongues--and after the vials have been -poured out, at the door One with the sharp sword in His hand, the sword -that hath two edges. - -So after presiding at many Revival meetings and heading the lists of -many subscriptions, Jacob Gullibrand became an elder in the Kirk of the -Covenants and a power in Lady Nixon's Wynd. - -He had for some time been a leading Director of the Association for the -Propagation of Gospel Literature; and so in both capacities he was the -Doctor's master. Then, having gathered to him a party, recruited -chiefly from the busybodies in other men's matters and other women's -characters, Jacob Gullibrand turned him about, and set himself to drive -the minister and folk of the Kirk of the Covenant as he had been wont to -drive his clerks and shop-assistants. - -He went every Sabbath into the vestry after service to reprove and -instruct Dr. Marcus Lawton. His sermons (so he told him) were too -old-fashioned. They did not "grip the people." They did not "take hold -of the man on the street." They were not "in line with the present -great movement." In short, they "lacked modernity." - -Dr. Marcus answered meekly. Man more modest than our dear Doctor there -was not in all the churches--no, nor outside of them. - -"I am conscious of my many imperfections," he said; "my heart is heavy -for the weakness and unworthiness of the messenger in presence of the -greatness of the message; but, sir, I do the best I can, and I can only -ask Him who hath the power, to give the increase." - -"But how," asked Jacob Gullibrand, "can you expect any increase when I -never see you preaching in the market-place, proclaiming at the -street-corners, denouncing upon a hundred platforms the sins of the -times? You should speak to the times, my good sir, you should speak to -the times." - -"As worthy Dr. Leighton, that root out of a dry ground, sayeth," -murmured our Doctor with a sweet smile, "there be so many that are -speaking to the times, you might surely allow one poor man to speak for -eternity." - -But the quotation was thrown away upon Jacob Gullibrand. - -"I do not know this Leighton--and I think I am acquainted with all the -ministers who have the root of the matter in them in this and in other -cities of the kingdom. And I call upon you, sir, to stir us up with -rousing evangelical addresses instead of set sermons. We are asleep, -and we need awakening." - -"I am all too conscious of it," said the Doctor; "but it is not my -talent." - -"Then if you do know it, if your conscience tells you of your failure, -why not get in some such preachers as Boanerges Simpson of Maitland, or -even throw open your pulpit to some earnest merchant-evangelist such -as--well, as myself?" - -But Mr. Gullibrand had gone a step too far. The Doctor could be a -Boanerges also upon occasion, though he walked always in quiet ways and -preferred the howe of life to the mountain tops. - -"No, sir," he said firmly; "no unqualified or unlicensed man shall ever -preach in my pulpit so long as I am minister and teaching elder of a -Covenant-keeping Kirk!" - -"We'll see about that!" said Jacob Gullibrand, thrusting out his under -lip over his upper half-way to his nose. Then, seizing his tall hat and -unrolled umbrella, he stalked angrily out. - - * * * * * - -And he kept his word. He did see about it. In Lady Nixon's Wynd there -was division. On the one side were ranged the heads of families -generally, the folk staid and set in the old ways--"gospel-hardened" the -Gullibrandites called them. With the Doctor were the old standards of -the Kirk, getting a little dried, maybe, with standing so long in their -post-holes, but, so far as in them lay, faithful unto death. - -But the younger folk mostly followed the new light. There were any -number of Societies, Gospel Bands, Armies of the Blue Ribbon, and of the -White--all well and better than well in their places. But being mostly -imported wholesale from England, and all without exception begun, -carried on, and ended in Gullibrand, they were out of keeping with the -plain-song psalms of the Kirk of the Martyrs. There were teas also at -"Mount Delectable," the residence of Gullibrand, where, after the -singing of many hymns and the superior blandishments of the Misses -Gullibrand, it was openly said that if the Kirk in Lady Nixon's Wynd was -to be preserved, the Doctor must "go." He was in the way. He was a -fossil. He had no modern light. He took no interest in the "Work." He -would neither conduct a campaign of street-preaching nor allow an -unordained evangelist into his pulpit. The Doctor must go. Mr. -Gullibrand was sure that a majority of the congregation was with him. -But there were qualms in many hearts which even three cups of -Gullibrand's Coffee Essence warm could not cure. - -After all, the Doctor was the Doctor--and he had baptised the most part -of those present. Besides, they minded that time when Death came into -their houses--and also that Noble Presence, that saintly prayer, that -uplifted hand of blessing; but in the psychological moment, with meet -introduction from the host, uprose the persecuted evangelist. - -"If he was unworthy to enter the pulpits of Laodicean ministers, men -neither cold nor hot, whom every earnest evangelist should" (here he -continued the quotation and illustrated it with an appropriate gesture) -"he at least thanked God that he was no Doctor of Divinity. Nor yet of -those who would permit themselves to be dictated to by self-appointed -and self-styled ministers." - -And so on, and so on. The type does not vary. - -The petition or declaration already in Gullibrand's breast pocket was -then produced, adopted, and many signatures of members and adherents -were appended under the influence of that stirring appeal. Great was -Gullibrand. The morning light brought counsel--but it was too late. -Gullibrand would erase no name. - -"You signed the document, did you not? Of your own free will? That is -your handwriting? Very well then!" - - * * * * * - -The blow fell on the Sabbath before the summer communion, always a great -time in the little Zion in Lady Nixon's Wynd. - -A deputation of two, one being Jacob Gullibrand, elder, waited on Dr. -Marcus Lawton after the first diet of worship. They gave him a paper to -read in which he was tepidly complimented upon his long and faithful -services, and informed that the undersigned felt so great an anxiety for -his health that they besought him to retire to a well-earned leisure, -and to permit a younger and more vigorous man to bear the burden and the -heat of the day. (The choice of language was Gullibrand's.) No mention -was made of any retiring allowance, nor yet of the manse, in which his -father before him had lived all his life, and in which he himself had -been born. But these things were clearly enough understood. - -"What need has he of a manse or of an allowance either?" said -Gullibrand. "His family are mostly doing for themselves, and he has no -doubt made considerable savings. Besides which, he holds a comfortable -appointment with a large salary, as I have good reason to know." - -"But," he added to himself, "he may not hold that very long either. I -will teach any man living to cross Jacob Gullibrand!" - - * * * * * - -The Doctor sat in the little vestry with the tall blue scroll spread out -before him. The light of the day suddenly seemed to have grown dim, and -somehow he could hardly see to smooth out the curled edges. - -"It is surely raining without," said the Doctor, and lighted the gas -with a shaking hand. He looked down the list of names of members and -adherents appended to the request that he should retire. The written -letters danced a little before his eyes, and he adjusted his glasses -more firmly. - -"William Gilmour, elder," he murmured; "ah, his father was at school -with me; I mind that I baptised William the year I was ordained. He was -a boy at my Bible-class, a clever boy, too. I married him; and he came -in here and grat like a bairn when his first wife died, sitting on that -chair. I called on the Lord to help William Gilmour--and now--he wants -me away." - -"Jacob Gullibrand, elder." - -The Doctor passed the name of his persecutor without a comment. - -"Christopher Begbie, manager. He was kind to me the year the bairns -died." - -(Such was Christopher's testimony. The year before I went to Edinburgh -the Doctor had lost a well-beloved wife and two children, within a week -of each other. He preached the Sabbath after on the text, "All thy -waves have gone over me!" Christopher Begbie, manager, had been kind -then. Pass, Christopher!) - -"Robert Armstrong, manager. Mine own familiar friend in whom I -trusted," said the Doctor, and stared at the lozenges of the window till -coloured spots danced before his kind old eyes. "Robert Armstrong, for -whose soul I wrestled even as Jacob with his Maker; Robert Armstrong -that walked with me through the years together, and with whom I have had -so much sweet communion, even Robert also does not think me longer fit -to break the bread of life among these people!" - -Pass, Robert! There is that on the blue foolscap which the Doctor -hastened to wipe away with his sleeve. But it is doubtful if such drops -are ever wholly wiped away. - -"John Malcolm--ah, John, I do not wonder. Perhaps I was over faithful -with thee, John. But it was for thy soul's good. Yet I did not think -that the son of thy father would bear malice!" - -"Margaret Fountainhall, Elizabeth Fountainhall--the children of many -prayers. Their mother was a godly woman indeed; and you, too, Margaret -and Elizabeth, would sit under a younger man. I mind when I prepared -you together for your first communion!" - -The Doctor sighed and bent his head lower upon the paper. "Ebenezer -Redpath, James Bannatyne, Samuel Gardiner"--he passed the names rapidly, -till he came to one--"Isobel Swan." - -The Doctor smiled at the woman's name. It was the first time he had -smiled since they gave him the paper and he realised what was written -there. - -"Ah, Isobel," he murmured, "once in a far-off day you did not think as -now you think!" - -And he saw himself, a slim stripling in his father's pew, and across the -aisle a girl who worshipped him with her eyes. And so the Doctor passed -from the name of Isobel Swan, still smiling--but kindly and graciously, -for our Doctor had it not in him to be anything else. - -He glanced his eye up and down the list. He seemed to miss something. - -"Henry Walker, treasurer--I do not see thy name, Henry. Many is the -hard battle I have had with thee in the Session, Henry. Dost thou not -want thine old adversary out of thy path once and for all? And Mary, -thy wife? Tart is thy tongue, Mary, but sweet as a hazel-nut in the -front of October thy true heart!" - -"Thomas Baillie--where art thou, true Thomas? I crossed thee in the -matter of the giving out of the eleventh paraphrase, Thomas. Yet I do -not see thy name. Is it possible that thou hast forgotten the nearer -ill and looked back on the days of old when Allan Symington with Gilbert -his brother, and thou and I, Thomas Baillie, went to the house of God in -company? No, these things are not forgotten. I thank God for that. -The name of Thomas Baillie is not here." - -And the Doctor folded up the blue crackling paper and placed it -carefully between the "leds" of the great pulpit Bible. - -"It is the beginning of the week of Communion," he said; "it is not meet -that I should mingle secular thoughts with the memory of the broken body -and the shed blood. On your knees, Marcus Lawton, and ask forgiveness -for your repining and discriminating among the sheep of the flock whom -it is yours to feed on a coming Lord's day; and are they not all -yours--your responsibility, your care, aye, Marcus--even--even Jacob -Gullibrand?" - - * * * * * - -It was the Sabbath of High Communion in the Kirk of the Covenants. -Nixon's Wynd, ordinarily so grim and bare, so gritty underfoot and so -narrow overhead, now seemed to many a spacious way to heaven, down which -walked the elect of the Lord in a way literally narrow, and literally -steep, and literally closed with a gate at which few, very few, went in. - -A full hour too soon they began to arrive, strange quaint figures some -of them, gathered from the nooks and corners of the old town. They -arrived in twos and threes--the children's children of the young plants -of grace who saw Claverhouse ride down the West Bow on his way to -Killiecrankie. As far as Leith walk you might know them, bent a little, -mostly coopers in the Trongate, wrights in the Kirk Wynd, ships' -carpenters at the Port. They had their little "King's Printer" Bibles -in the long tails of their blue coats--for black had not yet come in to -make uniform all the congregations of every creed. But the mistress, -walking a little behind, carried her Bible decently wrapped in a white -napkin along with a sprig of southern-wood. - -All that Sabbath day there hung, palpable and almost visible, about -Nixon's Wynd a sweet savour as of "Naphtali," and the Persecutions, and -Last Testimonies in the Grassmarket; but in the shrine itself there was -nothing grim, but only graciousness and consolation and the sense of the -living presence of the Hope of Israel. For our Doctor was there sitting -throned among his elders. The sun shone through the narrow windows, and -just over the wall, it it were your good fortune to be near those on the -left-hand side, you could see the top of the Martyrs' monument in the -kirkyard of Old Greyfriars. - -It was great to see the Doctor on such days, great to hear him. -Beneath, the white cloths glimmered fair on the scarred bookboards, -bleached clean in honour of the breaking of holy bread. The silver cups, -ancient as Drumclog and Shalloch, so they said, shone on the table of -communion, and we all looked at them when the Doctor said the solemn and -mysterious words, "wine on the lees well refined." - -For there are no High Churchmen so truly high as the men of the little -protesting covenanting remnants of the Reformation Kirk of Scotland; -none so jealous in guarding the sacraments; none that can weave about -them such a mantle of awe and reverence. - -The Doctor was concluding his after-table address. Very reverend and -noble he looked, his white hair falling down on his shoulders, his hands -ever and anon wavering to a blessing, his voice now rising sonorous as a -trumpet, but mostly of flute-like sweetness, in keeping with his words. -He never spoke of any subject but one on such a day. That was, the love -of Christ. - -"Fifty-one summer communions have I been with you in this place," so he -concluded, "breaking the bread and speaking the word. Fifty-one years -to-day is it since my father took me by the hand and led me up yonder to -sit by his side. Few there be here in the flesh this day who saw that. -But there are some. Of such I see around me three--Henry Walker, and -Robert Armstrong, and John Malcolm. It is fitting that those who saw -the beginning should see the end." - -At these words a kind of sough passed over the folk. You have seen the -wind passing over a field of ripe barley. Well, it was like that. From -my place in the gallery I could see set faces whiten, shoulders suddenly -stoop, as the whole congregation bent forward to catch every word. A -woman sobbed. It was Isobel Swan. The white faces turned angrily as if -to chide a troublesome child. - -"It has come upon me suddenly, dear friends," the Doctor went on, "even -as I hope that Death itself will. Sudden as any death it hath been, and -more bitter. For myself I was not conscious of failing energies, of -natural strength abated. But you, dear friends, have seen clearer than -I the needs of the Kirk of the Covenants. One hundred and six years -Marcus Lawtons have ministered in this place. From to-day they shall -serve tables no more. Once--and not so long ago, it seems, looking -back--I had a son of my body, a plant reared amid hopes and prayers and -watered with tears. The Lord gave. The Lord took. Blessed be the name -of the Lord." - -There ensued a silence, deep, still--yet somehow also throbbing, -expectant. Isobel Swan did not sob again. She had hidden her face. - -"And now my last word. After fifty-one years of service in this place, -it is hard to come to the end of the hindmost furrow, to drop the hand -from the plough, never more to go forth in the morning as the sower -sowing precious seed." - -"_No--no--no!_" - -It was not only Isobel Swan now, but the whole congregation. Here and -there, back and forth subdued, repressed, ashamed, but irresistible, the -murmur ran; but the doctor's voice did not shake. - -"Fifty-one years of unworthy service, my friends--what of that?--a -moment in the eternity of God. Never again shall I meet you here as -your minister; but I charge you that when we meet in That Day you will -bear me witness whe her I have loved houses or lands, or father or -mother or wife or children better than you! And now, fare you well. -The memory of bygone communions, of hours of refreshment and prayer in -this sacred place, of death-beds blessed and unforgotten in your homes -shall abide with me as they shall abide with you. The Lord send among -you a worthier servant than Marcus Lawton, your fellow-labourer and -sometime minister. Again, and for the last time, fare you well!" - - * * * * * - -It was a strange communion. The silver cups still stood on the table, -battered, but glistening. The plates of bread that had been blessed were -beside them. The elders sat around. A low inarticulate murmur of agony -travelled about the little kirk as the Doctor sat down and covered his -face with his hands, as was his custom after pronouncing the -benediction. - -Then in the strange hush uprose the tall angular form of William Gilmour -from the midst of the Session, his bushy eye-brows working and -twitching. - -"Oh, sir," he said, in forceful jerks of speech, "dinna leave us. I -signed the paper under a misapprehension. The Lord forgive me! I -withdraw my name. Jacob Gullibrand may dischairge me if he likes!" - -He sat down as abruptly as he had risen. - -Then there was a kind of commotion all over the congregation. One after -another rose and spoke after their kind, some vehemently, some with -shamed faces. - -"And I!" "And I!" "And I!" cried a dozen at a time. "Bide with us, -Doctor! We cannot want you! Pray for us!" - -Then Henry Walker, the white-haired, sharp-featured treasurer and -precentor of Nixon's Wynd, stretched out his hand. The Doctor had been -speaking, as is the custom, not from the pulpit, but from the communion -table about which the elders sat. He had held the Gullibrand manifesto -in his hand; but ere he lifted them up in his final blessing he had -dropped it. - -Henry Walker took it and stood up. - -"Is it your will that I tear this paper? Those contrary keep their -seats--those agreeable STAND UP!" - -As one man the whole congregation stood up. - -All, that is, save Jacob Gullibrand. He sat a moment, and then amid a -silence which could be felt, he rose and staggered out like a man -suddenly smitten with sore sickness. He never set foot in Nixon's Wynd -again. - -Henry Walker waited till the door had closed upon the Troubler of -Israel, the paper still in his hand. Then very solemnly he tore it into -shreds and trampled them under foot. - -He waited a moment for the Doctor to speak, but he did not. - -"And you, also, will withdraw your resignation and stay with us?" he -said. - -The Doctor could not answer in words; but he nodded his head. It was, -indeed, the desire of his heart. Then in a loud and surprising -voice--jubilant, and yet with a kind of godly anger in it, Henry Walker -gave out the closing psalm. - - "All people that on earth do dwell, - Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice; - Him serve with mirth, His praise forthtell, - Come ye before Him and rejoice!" - - - - - *CARNATION'S MORNING JOY* - - -This is the story of the little white-washed cottage at the top of the -brae a mile or so before you come into Cairn Edward. It is a love -story, a simple and uneventful one, quickly told. - -The cottage is not now what it was--I fear to say how many years -ago--when I was wont to drive in to the Cameronian Kirk on summer -Sabbaths in the red farm cart. Then not only I, but every one used to -watch from far for the blue waft of reek going up as we sighted the -white gable-end far away. - -"Carnation's Cottage!" we used to call it, and even my father, -Cameronian elder as he was, smiled when he passed it. - -It was so named because a girl once lived there whose fame for worth and -beauty had travelled very far. Her name was Carnation Maybold, a -combination which at once tells its tale of no countryside origin. -Carnation's father was a railroad engineer who had come from England and -married a farmer's daughter in a neighbouring parish. Then when -Carnation's mother died in childbirth, he had called his one daughter by -the name of his wife's favourite flower. - -"What for do ye no caa' her Jessie like her mither?" said the ancient -dame who had come to keep his house. - -"Because I never want to hear that name again!" Engineer Maybold had -said. For he had been wrapped up in his wife. - -Carnation Maybold lost her father, the imaginative man and second-rate -engineer, when she was thirteen, a tall slim slip of a girl, with a face -like a flower and a cheek that already had upon it the blush of her -name. Old Tibbie Lockhart dwelt with her, and defenced the orphan maid -about more securely than a city set with walls. The girl went a mile to -the Cairn Edward Academy, where she was already in the first girls' -class, and John Charles Morrison carried the green bag which held her -books. In addition to this, being strongly built, he thrashed any boy -who laughed at him for doing so. John Charles was three years older -than his girl friend, and had the distinct beginnings of a moustache in -days when Carnation still wore her hair in a long plaited tail down her -back--for in those days Gretchen braids were the fashion. - -It is curious to remember that, while all the other girls were Megs and -Katies, Madges and Jennies, Carnation Maybold's first name knew no -diminutive. She was, and has remained, just Carnation. That is enough. -She was fifteen when John Charles was sent to college. After that she -carried her own books both ways. She had offers from several would-be -successors to the honourable service, but she accepted none. Besides, -she was thinking of putting her hair up. - -When John Charles came home in the windy close of the following March, -the first thing he did was to put the little box which contained his -class medal into his vest pocket, and hasten down the road to meet -Carnation. His father was at market. His mother (a peevish, -complaining, prettyish woman) was in bed with sick headache, and not to -be disturbed. But there remained Carnation. The returned scholar asked -no better. - -The heart of John Charles beat as he kept the wider side of the turns of -the road that he might the sooner spy her in front of him. She was only -a slip of a school girl and he a penniless student--but nevertheless his -heart beat. - -Did he love her? No, he knew that he had never uttered the word in her -hearing, and that if he had, she was too young to know its meaning. She -was just Carnation--and--and, how his heart beat! - -But still the wintry trees stood gaunt and spectral on either hand. He -passed them as in a dream, his soul bent on the next twist of the -red-gray sandy ribbon of road, that was flung so unscientifically about -among the copses and pastures. - -There she was at last--taller, lissomer than ever, her green bag -swinging in her hand and a gay lilt of a tune upon her lips. - -"Carnation!" - -She did not answer him by any word. Instead, she stood silent with the -song stilled mid-flight upon her lips. She smiled happily, however, as -he came near. - -"Carnation!" he cried again. And there was something shining in the -lad's eyes which she had never seen there before. - -She held out the green bag. Then she turned her elbow towards him with -a certain defensive instinct. - -"Here, take my books, John Charles!" she said, as if he had never been -away; and with no more than that they began to walk homeward together. - -"Are you not glad to see me?" he asked presently. - -"Oh, yes, indeed--very glad!" she answered, looking at the ground; "you -will be able to carry my books again, you see!" - -"Who has carried them while I have been away?" - -"Carried them myself!" - -"For true?" - -"Honour!" - -John Charles breathed so long a breath that it was almost a sigh. -Carnation looked at him curiously. - -"Why, you have grown a moustache," she said, smiling a quick, radiant -smile. - -"And you--you are different too. What is it?" he returned, gazing -openly at her, as indeed he had been doing ever since they met. She -turned her face piquantly towards him. It was like a flower. A faint -perfume seemed to breathe about the boy, making his brain whirl. - -"Not grown a moustache, anyway," Carnation said, tauntingly. - -And she roguishly twirled imaginary tips between her finger and thumb. - -"Let me see!" said John Charles, drawing nearer as if to examine into -the facts. - -"Oh, no," said Carnation hastily, fending him off with a glance, "I'm -grown up now, and it's different! Besides----" - -And she glanced behind her along the red-gray ribbon of dusty road, -along which for lack of company the March dust was dancing little jigs -of its own. - -"Why different?" began John Charles, thrusting his hands deep into his -pockets. - -"Well, don't you see, stupid?" she gave her head a pretty coquettish -turn, "I've got my hair up!" - - * * * * * - -After this they walked somewhat moodily along a while. Or, at least the -young man was moody and silent, while Carnation only smiled sedately, -and something, perhaps a certain bitter easting in the wind, made her -cheeks more fiowerlike and reminiscent of her name than ever. - -"Carnation," he said at last, "why are we not to be friends any more? -Why have you grown away from me? You are three years younger--and -yet--you seem older somehow to-day--years and years older." - -"Well, what more do you want--aren't you carrying my bag?" - -"Tell me about yourself--what have you been doing?" He changed the -subject. - -"Going to school--let me see, six twenties are a hundred and twenty. -Coming back another hundred and twenty times. Two hundred and forty -trudges, and the bag growing heavier all the time! It is quite time you -came back, John Charles!" - -"Carnation, dear," with trepidation he ventured the adjective, "I have -something to show you that nobody has seen--what will you give me if I -show it you?" - -"I shan't give you anything; but you can show me and see," was the -somewhat inconsequent reply. - -"Come here then, by the end of the house." - -They had arrived at Carnation's cottage, and the consciousness of the -eye of Tibbie Lockhart out of the kitchen window was upon the youth. - -"I shan't--show it to me here!" said Carnation, swinging the bag of -books through the open front door in a casual and school-girlish manner. - -"I can't. I don't want Tibbie to know about it--nobody but you must see -it!" - -"Are you sure nobody has seen it--no girl in Edinburgh--nobody in Cairn -Edward?" - -"No one at all--not even my mother, not since I got it. I kept it for -you, Carnation." - -"Is it _very_ pretty?" - -"Yes, very pretty! Come in here; you will be sorry if you don't!" - -"Well, I will come--just for a moment!" - -They went round to the gable of the cottage where, being sheltered from -the wind, a couple of sentinel Irish yews grew tall and erect. Between -them there was a little bower. John Charles took the little flat box -out of his pocket and opened it. - -A gold class medal lay within, not fitting very well on account of a -thin blue ribbon which the proprietor had strung through a clasp at the -top. - -"Oh," said Carnation with a gasp, "it _is_ lovely. Is it gold? Why, it -has your name on. It is the medal of the class. How proud your father -and mother will be!" - -And she clasped her hands and gazed, but did not offer to take it in her -fingers. - -"No, indeed, that they won't," said John Charles grimly; "they won't -ever know, and if they did they wouldn't care. I am not going to tell -them or any one. I won it for you. All the time I was working I kept -saying to myself, 'If I win the medal I shall give it to Carnation to -wear round her neck on a blue ribbon--because blue is her colour----'" - -"Oh, but I could not!" cried the girl, going back a step or two, "I dare -not! Any one might see and read--what is written on it." - -"You needn't wear it outside, Carnation," he pleaded, in a low tone; -"see, I put the ribbon through it that you might." - -"It _is_ pretty"--her face had a kind of inner shining upon it, and her -eyes glittered darkly--"it was very nice of you to think about me--not -that I believe for a moment you really did. But, indeed, indeed, I -can't take it----" - -The face of John Charles Morrison fell. His jaw, a singularly -determined one, began to square itself. - -"Very well," he said, flirting the ribbon out of the clasp and throwing -the box on the ground, "do you see that pond down there? As sure as -daith" (he used the old school-boy oath of asseveration) "I'll throw it -in that pond if ye dinna tak' it!" - -Something very like a sob came into the lad's throat. - -"And I worked so hard for it. And I thought you would have liked it!" - -"I do like it--I do--I do!" cried Carnation, agonised and affrayed. - -"No, you don't!" - -"Give it me, then--don't look!" - -She turned her back upon him, and for a long moment her fingers were -busy about her neck. - -"_Now!_" - -She faced about, the light of a showery April in her eyes. She was -smiling and blushing at the same time. There was just a faint gleam of -blue ribbon where the division of the white collar came in front of her -throat. - -John Charles recognised that the moment for which he had striven all -through the winter had come. He stooped and kissed her where she stood. -Then he turned on his heel and walked silently away, leaving her three -times Carnation and a school-girl no more. - -She watched him out of sight, the vivid blush slowly fading from her -face, and then went demurely within. - -"Where gat ye that ribbon wi' the wee guinea piece at the end o't?" said -guardian Tibbie that night, suggestively. - -"I know; but I promised not to tell!" quoth the witch, who indeed, -twisted the shrewish-tongued old woman round her finger. - -"But I think I can guess," said Tibbie shrewdly; "gin that blue ribbon -wasna coft in Edinbra toon, I'se string anither gowden guinea upon it!" - -But Carnation Maybold only smiled and pouted her lips, as if at a -pleasant memory. - - * * * * * - -From sixteen to twenty-six is more than a full half of the period of -life to which we give the name of girlhood. But at twenty-six Carnation -Maybold was Carnation Maybold still. Yet there had been no breaking -off, no failure in the steadfastness of that early affection which had -sent John Charles along the dusty road to carry the school-bag of green -baize. - -But the medallist never returned to college. During the early falling -twilight of the next Hint-o'-Hairst (or end of harvest), his father, -Gawain Morrison, driving homeward from market all too mellow, brake -neck-bone over the crags of the Witch's pool. - -So, his mother being a feeble woman, though still young and buxom, John -Charles had perforce to bide at home and shoulder the responsibilities -of a farm of two thousand pastoral acres and a rent of Ł800, payable -twice a year in Cairn Edward town. - -It was a sore burden for such young shoulders, but John Charles had grit -in him, and, what made his heart glad, he could do most of his work, by -lea rig and pasturage, within sight of a certain cottage where dwelt the -maid with a ribbon of blue about her neck. - -There was no possibility of any marriage, nor, indeed, talk of any -between them, and that for two good reasons: Gawain Morrison had died in -debt. He was "behindhand at the Bank," and his farm and stock were left -to his widow at her own disposition, unless she should marry again, in -which case they were willed to his son John Charles Morrison, presently -student of arts in the University of Edinburgh. The will had been made -during the one winter that son had spent away from home. - -John Charles' bitter hour in the bank at Cairn Edward was sweetened by -the sympathy and kindliness of Henry Marchbanks, who, being one of the -best judges of character in Scotland, saw cause to give this young man a -chance to discharge his father's liabilities. - -At twenty-five John Charles was once more a free man, and there was a -substantial balance to his mother's credit in the bank of Cairn Edward. -Penny of his own he had not received one for all his five years' work. - -But Mrs. Morrison was that most foolish of womankind--an old woman -striving to appear young. She had taken a strong dislike to the girl -mistress of the white cottage at her gates, and was never tired of -railing at her pretensions to beauty, at her lightheadedness, and at the -suitors who stayed their horses for a word or a flower from across the -cropped yew hedge of Carnation Maybold's cottage. - -But John Charles, steadfast in all things, was particularly admirable in -his silences. He let his mother rail on, and then, at the quiet hour of -e'en stole down to the dyke-side for a "word." He never entered -Carnation's dwelling, nor did he even pass the girdling hedge of yew and -privet. But there was one place where the defences were worn low. -Behind the well curb occurred this breach of continuity in the dead -engineer's hedges, and to this place night after night through the -years, that quiet steadfast lover, John Charles Morrison, came to touch -the hand of his mistress. - -She did not always meet him. Sometimes she had girl friends with her in -the cottage, sometimes she had been carried off to a merry-making in -Cairn Edward, to return under suitable escort in the evening. - -But even then Carnation had a comfortable sense of safety, for ever -since one unforgotten night, Carnation knew that in any danger she had -only to raise her voice to bring to her rescue a certain tall -broad-shouldered ghost, which with attendant collies haunted the gray -hillsides. - -That night was one on which a tramp, denied an alms, had seized the girl -by the arm within half a mile of her home. And at the voice of her -sharp crying, a different John Charles from any she had ever seen had -swung himself over the hillside dyke, and descended like an avenging -whirlwind upon the assailant. - -Yet so secretive is the country lover, that few save an odd shepherd or -two of his own suspected the comradeship which existed between these -two. Carnation was in great request at concerts and church bazaars in -the little neighbouring town; she even went to a local "assembly" or two -every winter, under the sheltering wing of a school friend who had -married early. - -John Charles did not dance, so he was not asked to these. He was -thought, indeed, to be rather a grave young fellow, busied with his farm -and his books. No one connected his name with that of his fair and -sprightly neighbour. - -Yet somehow, in spite of many opportunities, Carnation Maybold did not -marry. She was bright, cultivated, winsome, and certainly the prettiest -girl for miles around. - -"Are you waiting for a prince?" little Mrs. George Walter, her friend of -the assemblies, had said to her more than once. - -"Yes," smiled Carnation, "the true Prince!" - -"I suppose that is why you always wear a ribbon of true blue?" retorted -her friend. "Do let me see what is at the end of it--ah, you will not. -I think you are very mean, Carnation. All is over between us from this -moment. I'm sure I came and told _you_ as soon as ever George spoke!" - -"But perhaps," said Carnation quietly, "_my_ George has not yet spoken!" - -"Well, if he hasn't, why don't you make him," said her friend with -vehemence, "or else why have eyes like those been thrown away upon you?" - -"I have worn this nearly ten years!" said Carnation, a little wistfully. - -"Carnation Maybold," said her friend indignantly, "you ought to be -ashamed! And so it was for the sake of that school-girl's split -sixpence that you refused Harry Foster, whose father has an estate of -his own, and Kenneth Walker, the surveyor, as well as--oh, I have no -patience with such silly sentiment!" - -Carnation smiled even more quietly than usual. - -"Gracie," she said, "if I am content, I don't see what difference it can -make to you." - -"You ought to be married--you oughtn't to live alone with only an old -woman to look after you. You are wasting the best years of your -life----" - -"Gracie, dear," said Carnation, "you mean to be kind; but I ask you not -to say any more about this. There are worse things that may happen to a -woman, than that she should wait and wait--aye, even if she should die -waiting!" - - * * * * * - -It was the evening of the August day on which Mrs. Walter had spoken -thus to Carnation that John Charles came cottagewards slowly and -gloomily. He had been thinking bitter thoughts, and at last had taken a -resolve that was likely to cost him dear. - -In the warm light of evening the girl, who stood at the farther side of -the gap, seemed wondrously beautiful. The school-girl look had long -since passed away. Only the fresh rose on the cheeks, the depths in the -eyes (as if a cloud shadowed them), the lissom bend of the young body -towards him were the same. But the hair was waved and plaited about the -head in a larger and nobler fashion. The contours were a little fuller, -and the lips, perfect as ever in shape, were stiller, and the smile on -them at once more assured and more sedate. - -"Carnation, I cannot hold you any longer to your promise!" - -"And why not, John; are you tired of me?" - -"I am not one of those who grow tired, dear," the young man's voice was -so low none could hear it but the one listener. "I will never grow -tired--you know that. But I waste the best years of your life. You are -beautiful, and the time is passing. You might marry any one----" - -"Have you any particular one in your mind?" - -The question at once spurred and startled him. He moved his feet on the -soft grass of the meadow with a certain embarrassment. - -"Yes, Carnation; my mother was speaking to me to-night of Harry Foster -of Carnsalloch. His father has told her of his love for you. She says I -am keeping you from accepting him. I have come to release you from any -promise, Carnation, spoken or implied." - -"There is no promise, John--save that I love you, and will never marry -any one else." - -"But if I went away you might--you might change your mind. I am -thinking of West Australia! I am making nothing of it here. All is as -much my mother's as it was the day my father died! I can get her a good -'grieve' to take charge, and go in the spring!" - -The girl winced a little, but did not speak for a while. - -"Well," she said at last, "you must do as you think best. I shall wait -all the same. Thank God, there is no law against a woman waiting." - -"Carnation, do you mean it?" - -The gap was a gap still; but both the lovers were on one side of it, and -the night was dark about them. Indeed, they were so close each to the -other that there was no need of light. - -"If I go, I shall make a home for you!" - -"However long it is, I shall be ready when you want me!" - -"Carnation!" - -"John!" - -And so, as it was in the beginning, the old, old tale was retold beneath -the breathing rustle of the orchard trees. - -Yet their hearts were sore when they parted, because the springtime was -so near, and the home they longed for seemed so very far. - - * * * * * - -Carnation slept in a little garret room with a gable window. She had -chosen it, because she liked to look down on John Charles' fields and on -the low place in the hedge where he always stood waiting for her. - -The waning moon had risen late, and Carnation undressed without a -candle. Having said her prayers, she stole into bed. But sleep would -not come, and, her heart being right sore within her, the tears forced -up her eyelids instead, as it is woman's safety that they should. - -She lay and sobbed her heart out because John was going away. But -through the tears that wet her pillow certain words she had been singing -in the choir on Sunday forced themselves:-- - - "Weeping may endure for a night, - But joy cometh in the morning." - - -Nevertheless, Carnation must have sobbed herself to sleep, for it was -nigh the dawn when she was awakened by something that flicked her -lattice at regular intervals. It could not be a bird. It was too sharp -and regular for that. - -Could it be----? - -Impossible! - -He had never come before at such a time! If it were indeed he, there -must be some terrible news to tell. - -Carnation rose hastily, and threw a loose cloak about her shoulders. -Then she went and opened the little French lattice with the criss-cross -diamond panes. The dawn was coming slowly up out of the east, and the -gray fields were turning rosy beneath her. - -A dark figure filled up the low place in the hedge. - -"Carnation, I had something to tell you!" - -"Is it bad news? I cannot bear it, if it is." - -"No, the best of news! I am not going at Whitsunday to Australia. My -mother told me last night that she is to be married at the New Year. He -is a rich man--Harry Foster's father. She is going to live at -Carnsalloch." - -"Well?" said Carnation, doubtfully, not seeing all that this sudden -change meant to them both. - -"Why, then, dearest," the voice of John Charles Morrison shook with -emotion, "we can be married as soon as we like after that. The farm and -everything on it is ours--yours and mine!" - -Carnation's brain reeled, and she found herself without a word to say. -Only the sound of the happy singing ran in her head: - -"_Joy cometh in the morning--joy cometh in the morning!_" - -"Why don't you speak, Carnation? Are you not glad?" - -The voice down at the gap was anxious now. - -"I am too far away from you to say anything, but I am glad, very glad, -dear John!" - -"You will be ready by Whitsunday?" - -"I shall be ready by Whitsunday!" - -There was a pause. The light came clearer in the east. John Charles -could see the girl's fresh complexion thrown up by the dark cloak, an -edging of lace, white and dainty, just showing beneath. - -"Carnation, I wish I could kiss you!" he said. - -"Will this do instead?" she answered him, smiling through the wetness of -her eyes. - -And she lifted up the old worn class medal she had carried so long on -its blue ribbon, and kissed it openly. - -And that had perforce to "do" John Charles--at least, for that time of -asking. - - - - - *JAIMSIE* - - -As I drove home the other day I saw that old lazybones Jacob Irving -seated in the sun with a whole covey of boys round him. He had his -pocket-knife in his hand, and was busy mending a "gird." The "gird," or -wooden hoop, belonged to Will Bodden, and its precedence in medical -treatment had been secured by Will's fists. There was quite a little -hospital ward behind, of toys all awaiting diagnosis in strict order of -primacy. - -Here was Dick Dobie with a new blade to put into his shilling knife. A -shilling knife, Jacob assured him, is not fitted for cutting down -fishing rods. It is however, excellent as a saw when used on smaller -timber. Next came Peter Cheesemonger, who was in waiting with a model -schooner, the rising of which had met with an accident. And there -hurrying down from the cottage on the Brae, was one of the younger Allan -lasses with her mother's "wag-at-the-wa'" clock. The pendulum had -wagged to such purpose that it had swung itself out of its right mind. - -After I had left behind me this vision of old Jacob Irving seated on the -wall of the boys' playground at the village school, I fell into a muse -upon the narrowness of the line which in our Scottish parishes, divides -the "Do-Everythings" from the "Do-Nothings." - -I could give myself the more completely to this train of thought that I -had finished my rounds for the day, and had now nothing to do except to -look forward to seeing Nance, and to the excellent dinner for which the -shrewd airs of the moorland were providing internal accommodation of -quite a superior character. - -The conditions of Scottish life are generally so strenuous, and the -compulsions of "He that will not work, neither shall he eat" so absolute -that we cannot afford more than one local Do-Nothing in a village or -rural community. Equally certainly, however, one is necessary. The -business of the commonwealth could not be carried on without him. -Besides, he is needed to point the indispensable moral. - -"There's that guid-for-naething Jacob Irvin' sittin' wi' a' the -misleared boys o' the neighbourhood aboot him!" I can hear a douce -goodwife say to her gossip. "Guid peety his puir wife and bairns! -Guidman, lay ye doon that paper an awa' to your wark, or ye'll sune be -nae better--wi' your Gledstane and your speeches and your smokin'! -Think shame o' yersel', guidman." - -As the community grows larger, however, there is less and less room for -the amiable Do-Nothing. He is, indeed, only seen to perfection in a -village or rural parish. In Cairn Edward, for instance which thinks -itself quite a town, he does not attain the general esteem and almost -affectionate reprobation which, in my native Whinnyliggate, follow Jacob -Irving about like his shadow. - -In a town like Cairn Edward a local Do-Nothing is apt to attach himself -to a livery stable, and there to acquire a fine coppery nose and a -permanent "dither" about the knees. He is spoken of curtly and even -disrespectfully as "that waister Jock Bell." In cities he becomes a -mere matter for the police, and the facetious reporter chronicles his -two-hundredth appearance before the magistrate. - -But in Whinnyliggate, in Dullarg, in Crosspatrick, and in the -surrounding parishes, the conditions for the growth of the Do-Nothing -approach as near perfection as anything merely mundane can be expected -to do. Jacob Irving is hardly a typical specimen, for he has a trade. -The genuine Do-Nothing should have none. It is true that Jacob's -children might reply, like the boy when asked if his father were a -Christian, "Yes, but he does not work at it much!" - -Jacob is a shoe-maker--or rather shoe-mender. For I have never yet been -able to trace an entire pair of Jacob's foot-gear on any human -extremities. It does not fit his humour to be so utilitarian. He has, -however, made an excellent toy pair for the feet of little Jessie -Lockhart's doll, with soles, heels, uppers, tongues, and lacing gear all -complete. He spent, to my personal knowledge, an entire morning in -showing her (on the front step of her father's manse) how to take them -off and put them on again. And in the future he will never meet Jessie -on the King's highway without stopping and gravely asking her if any -repairs are yet requisite. When such are necessary they will, without -doubt, receive his best attention. - -I had not, however, made a study of Jacob Irving for any considerable -period without exploding the vulgar opinion that the parish Do-Nothing -is an idle or a lazy man. Nay, to repeat my initial paradox, the -Do-Nothing is the only genuine Do-Everything. - -When on a recent occasion I gave Jacob, in return for the pleasure of -his conversation, a "lift" in my doctor's gig, he talked to me very -confidentially of his "rounds." At first I imagined in my ignorance -that, like the tailors of the parishes round about, he went from farm to -farm prosecuting his calling and cobbling the shoes of half the -countryside. I was buttressed in this opinion by his expressed pity or -contempt for wearers of "clogs." - -"Here's anither puir body wi' a pair o' clogs on his feet," Jacob would -say; "and to think that for verra little mair than the craitur paid for -them, I wad fit him wi' as soond a pair o' leather-soled shoon as were -ever ta'en frae amang tanners' bark!" - -I had also seen him start out with a thin-bladed cobbler's knife and the -statutory piece of "roset" or resin wrapped in a palm's-breadth of soft -leather. But, alas, all was a vain show. The knife was to be used in -delicate surgical work upon the deceased at a pig-killing, and the resin -was for splicing fishing-rods. - -After a while I began by severe study to get to the bottom of a -Do-Nothing's philosophy. To do the appointed task for the performance -of which duty calls, man waits, and money will be paid, that is work to -be avoided by every means--by procrastination, by fallacious promise, by -prevarication, and (sad to have to say it) by the plainest of plain -lying. - -Whatever brings in money in the exercise of a trade, whatever must be -finished within a given time, that needs the co-operation of others or -prolonged and consecutive effort on his own part, is merely anathema to -the Do-Nothing. - -On the other hand, no house in the parish is too distant for him to -attend at the "settin' o' the yaird" (the delving must, however, be done -previously). On such occasions the Do-Nothing revels in long wooden -pins with string wrapped mysteriously about them. He can turn you out -the neatest shaped bed of "onions" and "syboes," the straightest rows of -cabbages, and potato drills so level that the whole household feels that -it must walk the straight path in order not to shame them. The wayfaring -man though a fool, looks over the dyke, and says: "Thae dreels are -Jacob's--there's nane like them in the countryside!" - -This at least is Jacob's way of it. - -But though all this is by the way of introduction to the particular -Do-Nothing I have in my eye, it is not of Jacob that I am going to -write. Jacob is indeed an enticing subject, and from the point of view -of his wife, might be treated very racily. But, though I afterwards -made Margate Irving's acquaintance (and may one day put her opinions on -record), I have other and higher game in my mind. - -This is none other than the Reverend James Tacksman, B.A., licentiate of -the Original Marrow Kirk of Scotland. In fact, a clerical Do-Nothing of -the highest class. - -Now, to begin with, I will aver that there is no scorn in all this. -"Jaimsie" is more to me than many worthy religious publicists, -beneficed, parished, churched, stipended, and sustentationed to the -eyes. He was not a very great man. He was in no sense a successful -man, but--he was "Jaimsie." - -I admit that my zeal is that of the pervert. It was not always thus -with me when "Jaimsie" was alive, and perhaps my enthusiasm is so -full-bodied from a sense that it is impossible for the gentle -probationer to come and quarter himself upon Nance and myself for (say) -a period of three months in the winter season, a thing he was quite -capable of doing when in the flesh. - -In the days before I was converted to higher views of human nature as -represented in the person of "Jaimsie," I was even as the vulgar with -regard to him. I admit it. I even openly scoffed, and retailed to many -the story of Jamie and my father, Saunders McQuhirr of Drumquhat, with -which I shall conclude. I used to tell it rather well at college, the -men said. At least they laughed sufficiently. But now I shall not try -to add, alter, amend, or extenuate, as is the story-teller's wont with -his favourites. For in sackcloth and ashes I have repented me, and am -at present engaged in making my honourable amend to "Jaimsie." - -For almost as long as I can remember the Reverend James Tacksman, B.A., -was in the habit of coming to my father's house, and the news that he -was in view on the "far brae-face" used to put my mother into such a -temper that "dauded" heads and cuffed ears were the order of the day. -The larger fry of us cleared out promptly to the barn and stack-yard -till the first burst of the storm was over. Even my father, accustomed -as he was to carry all matters ecclesiastical with a high hand, found it -convenient to have some harness to clean in the stable, or the lynch-pin -of a cart to replace in the little joiner's shop where he passed so much -of his time. - -"I'll no hae the craitur aboot the hoose," my mother would cry; "I -telled ye sae the last time he was here--sax weeks in harvest it -was--and then had maist to be shown the door. (Haud oot o' my road, -weans! Can ye no keep frae rinnin' amang my feet like sae mony collie -whaulps? Tak' ye that!) Hear ye this, guidman, if ye willna speak to -the man, by my faith I wull. Mary McQuhirr is no gaun to hae the bread -ta'en oot o' the mooths o' her innocent bairns----(Where in the name o' -fortune, Alec, are ye gaun wi' that soda bannock? Pit it doon this -meenit, or I'll tak' the tings to ye!). Na, nor I will be run aff my -feet to pleesure ony sic useless, guid-for-naething seefer as Jaimsie -Tacksman!" - -At this moment a faint rapping made itself audible at the front door, -never opened except on the highest state occasions, as when the minister -called, and at funerals. - -My mother (I can see her now) gave a hasty "tidy" to her gray hair and -adjusted her white-frilled "mutch" about her still winsome brow. - -"_And hoo are ye the day, Maister Tacksman, an' it's a lang, lang season -since we've had the pleasure o' a veesit frae you!_" - -Could that indeed be my mother's voice, so lately upraised in -denunciation over a stricken and cowering world? I could not understand -it then, and to tell the truth I don't quite yet. I have, however, -asked her to explain, and this is what she says: - -"Weel, ye see, Alec, it was this way" (she is pleased when I require any -points for my "scribin'," though publicly she scoffs at them and -declares it will ruin my practice if the thing becomes known), "ye see I -had it in my mind to the last minute to deny the craitur. But when I -gaed to open the door, there stood Jaimsie wi' his wee bit shakin' hand -oot an' his threadbare coatie hingin' laich aboot his peetifu' spindle -shanks, and his weel-brushit hat, an' the white neck-claith that wanted -doin' up. And I kenned that naebody could laundry it as weel as me. My -fingers juist fair yeukit (itched) to be at the starchin' o't. And -faith, maybes there was something aboot the craitur too--he was sae -cruppen in upon himsel', sae wee-bookit, sae waesome and yet kindly -aboot the e'en, that I juist couldna say him nay." - -That is my mother's report of her feelings in the matter. She does not -add that the ten minutes or quarter of an hour in which she had been -able to give the fullest and most public expression to her feelings had -allowed most of the steam of indignation to blow itself off. My father, -who was a good judge, gave me, early in my married life, some excellent -advice on this very point, which I subjoin for the edification of the -general public. - -"Never bottle a woman up, Alec," he said, meditatively. "What Vesuvius -and Etna and thae ither volcanoes are to this worl', the legeetimate -exercise o' her tongue is to a woman. It's a naitural function, Alec. -Ye may bridle the ass or the mule, but--gie the tongue o' a woman (as it -were) plenty o' elbow-room! Gang oot o' the hoose--like Moses to the -backside o' the wilderness gin ye like, and when ye come in she will be -as quaite as pussy; and if ever ye hae to contradick your mairried wife, -Alec, let it be in deeds, no in words. Gang your road gin ye hae made -up your mind, immovable like the sun, the mune, and the stars o' heeven -in their courses--but, as ye value peace dinna be aye crying' 'Aye,' -when your wife cries 'No'!" - -Which things may be wisdom. But to the tale of our Jaimsie. - -Sometimes, moreover, even the natural man in my kindly and -long-suffering father uprose against the preacher. Jaimsie knew when he -was comfortable, and no mere hint of any delicate sort would make him -curtail his visit by one day. I can remember him creeping about the farm -of Drumquhat all that summer, a book in his hand, contemplating the -works of God as witnessed chiefly in the growth of the "grosarts." (We -always blamed him--quite unjustly, I believe--for eating the -"silver-gray" gooseberries on the sly.) Now he would stand half an hour -and gaze up among the branches of an elm, where a cushat was tirelessly -_coorooring_ to his mate. Anon you would see him apparently deeply -engaged in counting the sugar-plums in the orchard. After a little he -would be found seated on the red shaft of a cart in the stackyard, -jotting down in a shabby notebook ideas for the illustrations of sermons -never to be written; or if written, doomed never to be preached. His -hat was always curled up at the back and pulled down at the front, and -till my mother made down an old pair of my father's Sunday trousers for -him (and put them beside his bed while he slept), you could see in a -good light the reflection of your hand on the knees of his "blacks." It -is scarcely necessary to say that Jaimsie never referred to the -transposition, nor, indeed, in all probability, so much as discovered -it. - -Jaimsie was used to conduct family worship morning and evening in the -house of his sojourn, as a kind of quit-rent for his meal of meat and -his prophet's chamber. To the ordinary reading of the Word he was wont -to subjoin an "exposeetion" of some disputed or prophetical passage. The -whole exercises never took less than an hour, if Jaimsie were left to -the freedom of his own will--which, as may be inferred, was extremely -awkward in a busy season when the corn was dry in the stock or when the -scythes flashed rhythmically like level silver flames among the lush -meadow grass. - -Finally, therefore, a compromise had to be effected. My father took the -morning diet of worship, but Jaimsie had his will of us in the evening. -I can see them yet--those weariful sederunts, when even my father -wrestled with sleep like Samson with the Philistines, while my mother -periodically nodded forward with a lurch, and, recovering herself with a -start, the next moment looked round haughtily to see which of us was -misbehaving. Meanwhile the kitchen was all dark, save where before -Jaimsie the great Bible lay open between two candles, and on the hearth -the last peat of the evening glowed red. - -Many is the fine game of draughts I have had with my brother Rob and -Christie Wilson our herd lad, by putting the "dam-brod" behind the -chimney jamb where my father and mother could not see it, and moving the -pieces by the light of the red peat ash. I am ashamed to think on it -now, but then it seemed the only thing to do which would keep us from -sleep. - -And meantime Jaimsie prosed on, his gentle sing-song working its wicked -work on mother like a lullaby, and my father sending his nails into the -palms of his hands that he might not be shamed before us all. - -I remember particularly how Jaimsie addressed us for a whole week on his -favourite text in he Psalms, "The hill of God is as the hill of -Bashan--an high hill, as the hill of Bashan." - -And in the pauses of crowning our men and scuffling for the next place -at the draught board, we could catch strange words and phrases which -come to me yet with a curious wistful thrilling of the heart. Such are -"White as snow on Salmon"--"That mount Sinai in Arabia"--"Ye mountains -of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be rain upon you, nor -fields of offering." - -And as a concluding of the whole matter we sang this verse out of -Francis Roos's psalter: - - "Ye mountains great, wherefore was it - That ye did skip like rams? - And wherefore was it, little hills, - That ye did leap like lambs?" - - -It was all double-Dutch to me then, but now I can see that Jaimsie must -have been marshalling the mountains of Scripture to bear solemn witness -against an evil and exceedingly somnolent generation. - -Once when my mother snored audibly Jaimsie looked up, but at that very -moment she awoke, and with great and remarkable presence of mind -promptly cuffed Rob, who in his turn knocked the draught-board endways, -just as I had his last man cornered, to our everlasting disgrace. - -My mother asked us next day pointedly where we thought we were going to, -and if we were of opinion that there would be any dam-brods in hell. I -offered no remarks, but Rob--who was always an impudent boy--got on the -other side of the dyke from my mother and answered that there would be -no snorers there either. - -From an early age he was a lad of singularly sound judgments, my brother -Rob. He stayed out in the barn till after my mother was asleep that -night. - -At last, however, even my father grew tired of Jaimsie. He stayed full -three months on this occasion. Autumnal harvest fields were bared of -stooks, the frost began to glisten on the stiff turnip shaws, the -wreathed nets were put up for the wintering sheep, and still the -indefatigable Jaimsie stayed on. - -I remember yet the particular morning when, at long and last, Jaimsie -left us. All night almost there had been in the house the noise as of a -burn running over hollow stones, with short solid interruptions like the -sound of a distant mallet stricken on wood. It came from my father's -and mother's room. I knew well what it meant. The sound like running -water was my mother trying to persuade my father to something against -his will, and the far-away mallet thuds were his mono-syllabic replies. - -This time it was my mother who won. - -After the harvest bustle was over, Jaimsie had resumed his practice of -taking worship in the mornings, but any of us who had urgent work on -hand could obtain, by proper representation, a dispensing ordinance. -These were much sought after, especially when Jaimsie started to tackle -the Book of Daniel "in his ordinary," as he phrased it. - -But this Monday morning, to the general surprise, my father sat down in -the chair of state himself and reached the Bible from the shelf. - -"I will take family worship this morning, Mr. Tacksman," he said, with -great sobriety. - -Then we knew that something extraordinary was coming, and I was glad I -had not "threeped" to my mother that I had seen some of the Nether Neuk -sheep in our High Park--which would have been quite true, for I had put -them there myself on purpose the night before. - -It was during the prayer that the blow fell. My father had a peculiarly -distinct and solemn way with him in supplication; and now the words fell -distinct as hammer strokes on our ear. - -He prayed for the Church of God in all covenanted lands; for all -Christian peoples of every creed (here Jaimsie, faithful Abdiel, always -said "Humph"); for the heathen without God and without hope; for the -family now present and for those of the family afar off. Then, as was -his custom, he approached the stranger (who was no stranger) within our -gates. - -"And do Thou, Lord, this day vouchsafe journeying mercies to Thy servant -who is about to leave us. Grant him favourable weather for his -departure, good speed on his way, and a safe return to his own country!" - -A kind of gasping sigh went all about the kitchen. I knew that my -mother had her eye on my father to keep him to his pledged word of the -night season. So I dared not look round. - -But we all ached to know how Jaimsie would take it, and we all joined -fervently in the supplication which promised us a couple of hours more -added to our day. - -Then came the Amen, and all rose to their feet. Jaimsie seemed a little -dazed, but took the matter like a scholar and a gentleman. - -He held out his hand to my father with his usual benevolent smile. - -"I did not know that I had mentioned it," he said, "but I was thinking -of leaving you to-day." - -And that was all he said, but forthwith went upstairs to pack his shabby -little black bag. - -My father stood a while as if shamed; then, when we heard Jaimsie's feet -trotting overhead, he turned somewhat grimly to my mother. On his face -was an expression as if he had just taken physic. - -"Well," he said, "you will be easier in your mind now, Mary." This he -said, well knowing that the rat of remorse was already getting his -incisors to work upon his wife's conscience. She stamped her foot. - -"Saunders McQuhirr," she said in suppressed tones, "to be a Christian -man, ye are the maist aggrevatin'----" - -But at that moment my father went out through the door, saying no -further word. - -My mother shooed us all out of the house like intrusive chickens, and I -do not know for certain what she did next. But Rob, looking through the -blind of the little room where she kept her house-money, saw her -fumbling with her purse. And when at last Jaimsie, having addressed his -bag to be sent with the Carsphairn carrier into Ayrshire (where dwelt -the friends next on his visiting list), came out with his staff in one -hand, he was dabbing his eyes with a clean handkerchief. - -Then, after that, all that I remember is the pathetic figure of the -little probationer lifting up a hand in silent blessing upon the house -which had sheltered him so long; and so taking his lonely way over the -hillside towards the northern coach road. - -When my father came in from the sheep at mid-day, he waited till grace -was over, and then, looking directly at my mother, he said: "Weel, Mary, -how mony o' your pound notes did he carry away in his briest-pocket this -time?" - -I shall never forget the return and counter retort which followed. My -mother was vexed--one of the few times that I can remember seeing her -truly angered with her husband. - -"I would give you one advice, Saunders McQuhirr," she said, "and that -is, from this forth, to be mindful of your own business." - -"I will tak' that advice, Mary," he answered slowly; "but my heart is -still sore within me this day because I took the last advice you gied -me!" - - * * * * * - -And it was destined to be yet sorer for that same cause. Jaimsie never -was within our doors again. He abode in Ayrshire and the Upper Ward all -that winter and spring, and it was not till the following back-end, and -in reply to a letter and direct invitation from my conscience-stricken -father, that he announced that, all being well and the Lord gracious, he -would be with us the following Friday. - -But on the Thursday night a great snow storm came on, and the drift -continued long unabated. We all said that Jaimsie would doubtless be -safely housed, and we did not look for him to arrive upon the day of his -promise. However, by Monday, when the coach was again running, my -mother began to be anxious, and all the younger of us went forth to try -and get news of him. We heard that he had left Carsphairn late on the -Thursday forenoon, meaning to stop overnight at the shepherd's shieling -at the southern end of Loch Dee. But equally certainly he had never -reached it. - -It was not till Tuesday morning early that Jaimsie was found under a -rock near the very summit of the Dungeon hill, his plaid about him and -his frozen hand clasping his pocket Bible. It was open, and his -favourite text was thrice underscored. - -"_The hill of God is as the hill of Bashan; an high hill, as the hill of -Bashan._" - -Well, there is no doubt that the little forlorn "servant of God" has -indeed gotten some new light shed upon the text, since the dark hour -when he sat down to rest his weary limbs upon the snow-clad summit of -the Dungeon of Buchan. - - - - - *BEADLE AND MARTYR* - - -I sometimes give it as a reason for a certain lack of uniformity in -church attendance, that I cannot away with the new-fangled organs, -hymns, and chaunts one meets with there. I love them not, in -comparison, that is, with the old psalm tunes. They do not make the -heart beat quicker and more proudly, like Kilmarnock and Coleshill, Duke -Street and Old 124th. - -Nance, however, is so far left to herself as to say that this is only an -excuse, and that my real reason is the pleasure I have in thinking that -all the people must perforce listen to a sermon, while I can put my feet -upon another chair and read anything I like. This, however, is rank -insult, such as only wives long wedded dare to indulge in. Besides, it -shows, by its imputation of motives, to what lengths a sordid and -ill-regulated imagination will go. - -Moreover, I have never grown accustomed to the hours of town churches, -and I consider, both from a medical and from a spiritual point of view, -that afternoon services in town churches are directly responsible for -the spread of indigestion, as well as of a spirit of religious -infidelity throughout our beloved land. - -(Nance is properly scandalised at this last remark, and says that she -hopes people will understand that I only believe about half of what I -put down on paper when I get a pen in my hand. She complains that she -is often asked to explain some of my positions at afternoon teas. I say -it serves her right for attending such gatherings of irresponsible -gossip, tempered with boiled tannin. It is easy to have the last word -with Nance--here.) - -But after all the chief thing that I miss when I go to church is just -Willie McNair. - -The sermon is nowadays both shorter and better. The singing is good of -its kind, and I can always read a psalm or a paraphrase if the hymn -prove too long, or, as is often the case, rather washy in sentiment. -The children's address is really designed for children, and the prayers -do not exceed five minutes in length. But--I look in vain for Willie -McNair. - -Alas! Willie lies out yonder on the green knowe, his wife Betty by his -side, and four feet of good black mould over his coffin-lid. - -Willie was just our beadle, and he had a story. When I am setting down -so many old things, if I forget thee, Willie McNair, may my right hand -forget his cunning. - -Ah, Willie, though you never were a "church-officer," though you never -heard the Word, it is you, you alone that I miss. I just cannot think -of the kirk without you. Grizzled, gnarled, bow-shouldered of -week-days, what a dignity of port, what a solemnising awe, what a -processional tread was thine on Sabbaths! We had only one service in -the Kirk on the Hill in my youth. But, speaking in the vulgar tongue, -that one was a "starcher." - -It included the "prefacing" of a psalm, often extending over quite as -long a period of time as an ordinary modern sermon, a "lecture," which -as a rule (if "himsel'" was in fettle) lasted about three quarters of an -hour. Then after that the sermon proper was begun without loss of time. - -Now I cannot say, speaking "from the heart to the heart" (a favourite -expression of Willie's), that I regret the loss of all this. I was but -a boy, and the torment of having to sit still for from two hours and a -half to three hours on a hard seat, close-packed and well-watched to -keep me out of mischief, has made even matrimony seem light and easy. -How mere Episcopalians and other untrained persons get through the -sorrows and disappointments incident to human life I do not know. - -It was not till the opening of the Sabbath-school by Mr. Osbourne, -however, that I came to know Willie well. Hitherto he had been as -inaccessible and awestriking as the minister's neckcloth. And of that I -have a story to tell. I think what made me a sort of advanced thinker -in these early days, was once being sent by my father to the lodgings of -the minister who was to "supply" on a certain Sabbath morning. The -manse must have been shut for repairs and "himsel'" on his holidays. At -any rate, the minister was stopping with Miss Bella McBriar in the -little white house below the Calmstone Brig. Miss Bella showed me in -with my missive, and there, on the morning of the Holy Day, before a -common unsanctified glass tacked to a wall, with a lathery razor in his -hand, in profane shirt-sleeves, stood the minister, shaving himself! -His neckcloth, that was to appear and shine so glorious above the -cushions of the pulpit, hung limp and ignominious over the back of a -chair. A clay pipe lay across the ends of it. - -This was the beginning of the mischief, and if I ever take to a criminal -career, here was the first and primal cause. - -Shortly after I went to Sabbath-school, and having been well trained by -my father in controversial divinity, and drilled by my mother in the -Catechism, I found myself in a fair way of distinguishing myself; but -for all that, I cannot truly say that I ever got over the neckcloth on -the back of Miss McBriar's chair. When I aired my free-thinking -opinions before my father, and he shut me off by an appeal to authority, -I kept silence and hugged myself. - -"That may be a good enough argument," I said to myself, "but--I have -seen a minister's neckcloth hung over the back of a chair, and -shaving-soap on his chafts on Sabbath morning. How can you believe in -revealed religion after that?" - -But I had so much of solid common-sense, even in these my salad days, -that I refrained from saying these things to my father. Indeed, I would -not dare to say them now, even if I believed them, Willie McNair -regarded the Sabbath-school much as I did. To both of us it was simply -an imposition. - -Willie thought so for two reasons--first and generally, because it was -an innovation; and secondly, because he had to clean up the kirk after -it. I agreed with him, because I was compelled to attend--the farm cert -being delayed a whole hour in order that I might have the privilege of -religious instruction by the senior licensed grocer of the little town. -This gentleman had only one way of imparting knowledge. That was with -the brass-edged binding of his pocket Bible. Even at that time I -preferred the limp Oxford morocco. And so would you, if something so -unsympathetic as brass corners were applied to the sides of your head -two or three times every Sunday afternoon. - -After several years of this experience, I passed into Henry Marchbank's -class and was happy. But that is quite another chapter, and has nothing -to do with Willie McNair. - -Now, Sabbath-school was over about three o'clock, and our conveyance did -not start till four. That is the way I became attached to Willie. I -used to stay and help him to clean the kirk. This is the way he did it. - -First, he unfrocked himself of his broadcloth dignity by hanging his -coat upon a nail in the vestry. Then he put on an apron which covered -him from gray chin-beard to the cracks in the uppers of his shining -shoes. Into the breast of this envelope he thrust a duster large enough -for a sheet. It was, in fact, a section of a departed pulpit swathing. - -Then, muttering quite scriptural maledictions, and couching them in -language entirely Biblical, Willie proceeded to visit the pews occupied -by each class, restoring the "buiks" he had previously piled at the head -of each seat to their proper places on the book-board in front, and -scrutinising the woodwork for inscriptions in lead-pencil. Then he -swept the crumbs and apple-cores carefully off the floor and delivered -judgment at large. - -"I dinna ken what Maister Osbourne was thinkin' on to begin sic a Popish -whigmaleery as this Sabbath-schule! A disgrace an' a mockin' in the -hoose o' God! What kens the like o' Sammle Borthwick aboot the divine -decrees? When I, mysel', that has heard them treated on for forty year -under a' the Elect Ministers o' the Land, can do no more than barely -understand them to this day! And a wheen silly lasses, wi' gum-floo'ers -in their bonnets to listen to bairns hummerin' ower 'Man's Chief End'! -It's eneuch to gar decent Doctor Syminton turn in his grave! 'Man's -Chief End'--faith--it's wumman's chief end that they're thinkin' on, the -madams; they think I dinna see them shakin' their gum-floo'ers and -glancing their e'en in the direction o' the onmarriet teacher -bodies----" - -"And such are all they that put their trust in them!" concluded Willie, -somewhat irrelevantly. - -"Laddie, come doon out o' the pulpit. I canna lippen (trust) ony body -to dust that, bena mysel'! Gang and pick up the conversation lozengers -aff the floor o' the Young Weemen's Bible Cless!" - -Printed words can give small indication of the intense bitterness and -mordant satire of Willie's speech as he uttered these last words. - -Yet Willie was far from being a hater of women kind. Indeed, the end of -all his moralising was ever the same. - -"There's my ain guid wife--was there ever a woman like her? Snod as a -new preen, yet nocht gaudy, naething ken-speckle. If only the young -weemen nooadays were like Betty, they wad hae nae need o' gum-floo'ers -an' ither abominations. Na, nor yet Bible clesses! Faith, set them up! -It wad better become them to sit them doon wi' their Bibles in their -laps and the grace o' God in their hearts, an' tak' a lesson to -themsel's oot o' Paaal!" - -Here Willie dusted the pulpit cushions, vigorously shaking them as a -terrier does a rat, and then carefully brushing them all in one -direction, in order that, as he said, "the fell may a' lie the yae way." - -Willie was no eye servant. No spider took hold with her hands and was -in the Palace of Willie's King. Dust had no habitation there, and if a -man did not clean his boots on the mat before entering, Willie went to -him personally and told him his probable chances of a happy hereafter. -These were but few and evil. - -Then having got the "shine" to fall as he wanted it, and the dark purple -velvet overhang, pride of his heart, to sit to a nicety, Willie lifted -up the heavy tassels, and at the same time resumed the thread of his -discourse, standing there in the pulpit with the very port of a -minister, and in his speech a point and pith that was all his own. - -"Aye, Paul," (he always pronounced it _Paaal_)--"aye, Paaal, it's a -peety ye never marriet and left nae faim'ly that we ken o'. For we hae -sair need o' ye in thae days. But ye kenned better than to taigle -yersel' wi' silly lasses. It was you that bade the young weemen to be -keepers at hame--nae Bible clesses for Paaal--na, na! - -"And you mind Peter--oh, Peter was juist as soond on gum-floo'ers an' -weemen's falderals as Paaal, 'Whose adorning, let it not be the outward -adorning of plaiting the hair, and wearing of gold, and putting on of -apparel, but the ornament of a meek and quiet speerit----'" - -He stopped in the height of his discourse and waggled his hand down at -me. - -"Here, boy!" he cried, "what did ye do wi' thae conversation lozengers?" - -I indicated that I had them still in my pocket, for I had meant to -solace the long road home with the cleaner of them. - -"Let me see them!" - -Somewhat unwillingly I handed them up to Willie as he stood in the -pulpit, a different Willie, an accusing Willie, Nathan the Prophet with -a large cloth-brush under his arm. - - "When this you see, remember me!" - - -He read the printed words through his glasses deliberately. - -"Aye," he sneered, "that wad be Mag Kinstrey. I saw Rob Cuthbert -smirkin' ower at her when the minister was lookin' up yon reference to -Melchisadek. Aye, Meg, I'll remember ye--I'll no forgot ye. And if ye -mend not your ways----" - -Willie did not conclude the sentence, but instead, he shook his head in -the direction of the door of the Session house. - -He picked out another. - - "The rose is red--the violet's blue, - But fairer far, my love, are you!" - - -Willie opened the door of the pulpit. - -"Preserve me, what am I doin'? It's fair profanation to be readin' sic -balderdash in a place like this. Laddie, hear ye this, whatever ye hae -to say to a lass, gang ye and say it to hersel', by yoursel'. For -valenteens are a vain thing, and conversation lozengers a mock and an -abomination." - -Willie threatened me a moment with uplifted finger, and then added his -stereotyped conclusion: "And so are all such as put their trust in -them!" - -And through life I have acted strictly on Willie's advice, and I am -bound to admit that I have found it good. - -About this period, also, I began to take tea, not infrequently, with -Willie, and occasionally, but not often, I saw his wife, the -incomparable Betty, whose praises Willie was never tired of singing. I -am forced to say that, after these harangues, Betty disappointed me. -She sat dumb and appeared singularly stupid, and this to a lad -accustomed to a housewife like my mother, with her woman's wit keen as a -razor, and a speech pointed to needle fineness, appeared more than -strange. - -But Willie's affection was certainly both lovely and lovable. He was a -gnarled grey old man with a grim mouth, but for Betty he ran like a -young lover, and served her with meat and drink, as it had been on -bended knee. His smile was ready whenever she looked at him, and he -watched her with anxious eyes, dwelling on her every word and movement -with a curious perturbation. If she happened not to be in when he came -to the door, he would fall to trembling like a leaf, and the bleached -look on his face was sad to see. - -Willie McNair dwelt in a rickety old house at the bottom of the kirk -hill, separated from the other village dwellings by the breadth of a -field. There was a garden behind it, and a heathery common behind that, -with whins growing to the very dyke of Willie's kail yard. - -The first time that Betty was not in the house when we went home, it was -to the hill behind that Willie ran first. Under a broom bush he found -her, after a long search, and lifting her up in his arms he carried her -to the house. - -"Poor Betty," he cried over his shoulder as he went before me down the -walk; "she shouldna gang oot on sic a warm day. The sun has been ower -muckle for her. See, boy, rin doon to the Tinkler's well for some -caller water. The can's at the gable end." - -When I returned Betty was quietly in bed; and Willie had made the tea -with ordinary water. He was somewhat more composed, but I could see his -hand shake when he tried to pour out the first cup. He "skailed" it all -over the cloth, and then was angered with himself for what he called his -"trimlin' auld banes." - -But I never knew or suspected Willie's secret till that awful Sabbath -day, when the cross that he had borne so long hidden from the eyes of -men, was suddenly lifted high in air. - -Then all at once Willie towered like a giant, and the bowed shoulders -seemed to support a grey head about which had become visible an apparent -aureole. - -It was the day of High Communion, and the solemn services were drawing -to a yet more solemn close. The elements had been dispensed and the -elders were back again in their places. Mr. Osbourne had Dr. -Landsborough of Portmarnock assisting him that day--a tall man with a -gracious manner, and the only man who could give an after-communion -address without his words being resented as an intrusion. - -"It is always difficult," he said, "to disturb the peculiarly sacred -pause which succeeds the act of communion by any words of man----" - -He had got no farther when he stopped, and the congregation regarded him -with the strained attention which a beautiful voice always compels. The -beadle was sitting in all the reasonable pride of his dignity in the -first pew to the right of the Session. When Dr. Landsborough stopped, -the congregation followed the direction of his eyes. - -The door at the back of the kirk was seen to be open and a woman stood -there, dishevelled, wild-eyed, a black bottle in her shaking hand, a red -shawl about her head. - -It was Betty McNair. - -"Willie!" she cried aloud in the awful silence, "Willie, come forth--you -that lockit me in the back kitchin, an' thocht to stop me frae the -saicrament--I hae deceived ye, Willie McNair, clever man as ye think -yersel'!" - -I was in the corner pew opposite Willie (being, of course, a -non-communicant at that date), so that I could see his face. At the -first sound of that voice his countenance worked as if it would change -its shape, but in a moment I saw him grip the book-board and stand up. -Then he went quietly down the aisle to where his wife stood, gabbling -wild and wicked words, and laughing till it turned the blood cold to -hear her in that sacred place, and upon that solemn occasion. - -Firmly, but very gently, Willie took the woman by the arm, and led her -out. She went like a lamb. He closed the door behind him, and after a -quaking and dreadful pause, Dr. Landsborough took up the interrupted -burden of his discourse. - -I was a great lad of twelve or thirteen at the time and unused to tears -for many years. But I know that I wept all the time till the service -was ended, thinking of Willie and wondering where he was and what he -would be doing. - -That same night I heard my father telling my mother about what came -next. - -The Session were in their little square room after the service, counting -the tokens. The minister was sitting in his chair waiting to dismiss -them with the benediction, when a rap came to the door. My father -opened it, being nearest, and there without stood Willie McNair. - -"I wish to speak with the Session," he said, firmly. - -"Come in--come your ways in, William," said the minister, kindly, and -the elders resumed their seats, not knowing what was to happen. - -"Moderator and ruling elders of this congregation," said Willie, who had -not served tables so long without knowing the respect due to his -spiritual superiors, "I have come before you in the day of my shame to -demit the office I have held so long among you. Gentlemen, I do not -complain, I own I am well punished. These twenty years I have lived for -my pride. I have lied to each one of you--to the minister, to you the -elders, and to the hale congregation, making a roose of my wife, and -sticking at nothing to hide the shame of my house. - -"Sirs, for these lying words, it behoves that ye deal strictly with me, -and I will submit willingly. But believe me, sirs, it was through a -godly jealousy that I did it, that the Kirk of the New Testament might -not be made ashamed through me and mine. But for a' that I have done -wrong, grievous wrong. I aye kenned in my heart that it would -come--though, God helping me, I never thocht that it would be like this! - -"But noo I maun gang awa'," here he broke into dialect, "for I could -never bear to see anither man carry up the Buiks and open the door for -you, sir, to enter in. Forty years has William McNair been a hewer of -wood and a drawer of water in this tabernacle. Let there be pity in -your hearts for him this day. He hath borne himself with pride, and for -that the Lord hath brought him very low. And, oh! sirs, pray for -her--flesh of my flesh, and bone of my bone, come to what ye saw this -day! Tell me that He will forgie--be sure to tell me that He will -forgie Betty--for what she has dune this day!" - -The minister reassured him in affectionate words, and the whole Session -tried to get Willie to withdraw his decision. But in vain. The old man -was firm. - -"No," he said, "Betty is noo my chairge. The husband of a drunkard is -not a fit person to serve tables in the clean and halesome sanctuary. I -will never leave Betty till the day she dees!" - - * * * * * - -And neither he did. It was not long. Willie nursed his wife with -unremitting tenderness, breaking himself down as he did so. I did not -see him again till the day of Betty's funeral. I went with my father, -feeling very important, as it was the first function I had been at in my -new character of a man. - -When they were filling in the grave, Willie stood at the head with his -hat in his hand, and his grey locks waving in the moderate wind. His -lips were tremulous, but I do not think there were tears in his eyes. - -I went up to try to say something that might comfort him. I knew no -better then. But I think he did not wish me to speak about Betty, for -with a strange uncertain kind of smile he lifted up his eyes till they -rested upon the golden fields of ripening corn all about the little -kirkyard. - -"I think it will be an early harvest," he said, in a commonplace tone. - -Then all suddenly he broke into a kind of eager sobbing cry--a -heart-prayer of ultimate agony. - -"Oh, my God! my God! send that it be an early harvest to puir Willie -McNair." - - * * * * * - -And it was, for before a sheaf of that heartsome yellow corn was -gathered into barn, they laid Willie beside the woman he had watched so -long, and sheltered so faithfully behind the barriers of his love. - - - - - *THE BLUE EYES OF AILIE* - - -When first I went to Cairn Edward as a medical man on my own account, I -had little to do with the district of Glenkells. For one thing, there -was a resident doctor there, Dr. Campbell--Ignatius Campbell--and in -those days professional boundaries were more strictly observed than they -have been in more recent years. But in time, whether owing to the -natural spread of my practice, or through some small name which I got in -the countryside, owing to a successful treatment of tubercular cases, I -found myself oftener and oftener in the Glenkells. And, indeed, ever -since I began to be able to keep a stated assistant, it has been my -custom to take day about with him on the Glenkells round. - -But in what follows I speak of the very early years when I had still -little actual connection with the district. The Glenkells folk are -always in the habit of referring to themselves as a community apart. -They may, indeed, in extreme cases include the rest of the United -Kingdom--but, as it were, casually. Thus, "If the storm continues it -will be a sair winter in Glenkells, _and the rest o' the country_!" - -Or when some statesman conspicuously blundered, or a foreign nation -involved themselves in superfluous difficulties, you could not go into a -farmhouse or traverse the length of the main street of the Clachan -without hearing the words: "The like o' that could never hae happened i' -the Glenkells!" - -So there arose a proverb which, though of local origin, was not without -a certain wider acceptation: "As conceity as Glenkells," or, in a more -diffuse form: "Glenkells cocks craw aye croosest an' on a muckler -midden!" - -But Glenkells wotted little of such slurs, or if it minded at all took -them for compliments with a solid and irrefutable foundation. On the -other hand, it retorted upon the rest of the world in characteristic -fashion, visiting the sins of the fathers upon the children unto the -third and fourth generation. As thus: "Tak' care o' him. He's no to be -trustit. His grandfaither cam' frae Borgue!" Or, more allusively: -"Aye, a Nicholson aye needs watchin'. They a' come frae Kirkcudbright, -_where the jail is_!" - -One peculiarity of the speech of this country within a country struck me -more than all the others--perhaps because it came in the line of my own -profession. - -More than once an applicant for my services would say, in answer to my -question: "Have you called in the doctor?" "Oh, no, it has no been so -serious as that!" Succeedantly I would find that Dr. Ignatius Campbell -had been in attendance for some time, and that I ought to have consulted -with him before, as it were, jumping his claim. - -Dr. Campbell was a queer, dusty, smoky old man who, when seen abroad, -sat low in a kind of basket-phaeton--as it were, on the small of his -back, and visited his patients in a kind of dreamy exaltation which many -put down to drink. They were wrong. The doctor was something much -harder to cure--an habitual opium-eater. Somehow Dr. Campbell had never -taken the position in the Glenkells to which his abilities entitled him. -He came from the North, and that was against him. More than that, he -sent in his bills promptly, and saw that they were settled. Worst of -all, he took no interest in imaginary diseases. - -He openly laughed at calomel--which in the Glenkells was looked upon as -a kind of blaspheming of the Trinity. But he was a duly certified -graduate of Edinburgh like myself. His name was on the Medical List, -and only his unfortunate habit and the dreamy idleness engendered by it -kept him from making a very considerable name for himself in his -profession. I found, for instance, after his death (he left his books, -papers, and instruments to me) that he had actually anticipated in his -vague theoretical way some of the most applauded discoveries of more -recent times, and that he was well versed in all the foreign literature -of such subjects as interested him. - -But Dr. Ignatius Campbell with his great pipe, his low-crowned hat, his -seedy black clothes with the fluff sticking here and there upon them, -was not the man to impress the Glenkells. For in Galloway the minister -may go about in fishing-boots, shooting-jacket, and deerstalker if he -will--nobody thinks the worse of him for it. The lawyer may look as if -he bought his clothes from a slopshop. The country gentleman may wear a -suit of tweeds for ten years, till the leather gun-patch on the shoulder -threatens to pervade the whole man, back and front. But the doctor, if -he would be successful, must perforce dress strictly by rule. Sunday -and Saturday he must go buttoned up in his well-fitting surtout. His -hat must be glossy, no matter what the weather may be (for myself I -always kept a spare one in the box of the gig), and the whole man upon -entering a sick-room must bring with him the fragrance of clean linen, -good clothes, and personal exactitude. And though naturally a little -rebellious at first, I hereby subscribe to the Galloway view of the -case. - -Nance converted me. - -"Is that a clean collar?--no, sir, you don't! Take it off this instant! -I think this tie will suit you better. It is a dull day and something -light becomes you. I have ironed your other hat. See that you put it -on! Let me look at your cuffs. Mind that you turn down your trousers -before you come in sight of the house. John" (this to my driver), "see -that Dr. McQuhirr turns down his trousers and puts on his hat right side -first. There is a dint at the back that I cannot quite get out!" - -It is no wonder that I succeeded in Galloway, having such a--I mean -being endowed with such professional talents! - -I had not, however, been long in Glenkells before I found out that there -was another medical adviser on the scene--a kind of Brownie who did Dr. -Campbell's work while he slept or dreamed his life away over his pipe -and his coloured diagrams, whose very name was never mentioned, to me at -least--perhaps from some idea that as an orthodox professional man I -might resent the Brownie's intrusion. - -But matters came to a head one day when I found the bottle of medicine I -had sent up from the Cairn Edward apothecary standing untouched on the -mantelpiece, while another and wholly unlicensed phial stood at the -bed-head with a glass beside it, in which lingered a few drops of -something which I knew well that I had not prescribed. - -"What is this?" I demanded. "Why have you not administered the medicine -I sent you?" - -The woman put her apron to her lips in some embarrassment. - -"Oh, doctor--ye see the way o't was this," she said. "Jeems was ta'en -that bad in the nicht that I had to caa' in--a neebour o' oors--an' he -brocht this wi' him." - -I lifted my hat. - -"Good morning, Mrs. Landsborough," I said, with immense dignity; "I am -sorry that I must retire from the case. It is impossible for me to go -on if you disregard my instructions in that manner. No doubt Dr. -Campbell----" - -The good woman lifted up her hands in amazement and appeal. Even Jeems -turned on his bed in quick alarm. - -"'Deed, Dr. Ma Whurr!" she cried, "it wasna Dr. Cawmell ava. We wadna -think on sic a thing----" - -"Your faither's son will never gang oot o' a MacLandsborough's hoose in -anger, surely?" said Jeems, making the final Galloway appeal to the clan -spirit. - -This was conjuring with a name I could not disavow, and strongly against -my first intentions I continued to attend the case. Jeems got rapidly -better, and my bottle diminished steadily day by day. But whether it -went down Jeems's throat or mended the health of the back of the grate, -it was better, perhaps, that I did not inquire too closely. On my way -home I considered my own prescription, and recalled the ingredients -which by taste and smell I discovered in the intruding bottle. - -"I am not sure but what--well, it might have been better. I wonder who -the man is?" This was as much as I could be brought to admit in those -days, even to myself. The doctor, who in the first years of his -practice does not think more of the sacredness of his diagnosis than of -his married wife and all his family unto cousins six times removed, is -not fit to be trusted--not so much as with the administering of one -Beecham's pill. - -Yet I own the matter troubled me. I had a rival who--no, he did not -understand more of the case than myself. But all the same, I wanted to -find him out--in the interests of the Medical Register. - -But the riddle was resolved one day about a week afterwards in a rather -remarkable manner. I was proceeding up the long main street of the -Clachan, looking for a house in which Dr. Campbell (with whom of late I -had grown strangely intimate) had told me that he would be found at a -certain hour. - -As I went I noticed, what I had never seen before, a little house, white -and clean without, the creepers clambering all over it. This agreed, so -far, with the doctor's description. I turned aside and went up two or -three carefully reddened steps. A brass knocker blinked in the evening -sunshine. I lifted it and knocked. - -"Is the doctor in?" I said to a tall gaunt woman who opened the door an -inch or two. As it was I could only see a lenticular section of her -person, so that in describing her I draw upon later impressions. She -hesitated a second or two, and then, rather grudgingly as I thought, -opened the door. - -"Come in," she said. - -With no more greeting than that she ushered me into a small room crowded -with books and apparatus. The table held a curious microscope, -evidently home-made in most of its fittings. Pieces of mechanism, the -purpose of which I could not even guess, were strewn about the floor. -Castings were gripped angle-wise in vices, and at the end of an ordinary -carpenter's bench stood a small blacksmith's furnace, with bellows and -anvil all complete. In the recess, half hidden by a screen, I could -catch a glimpse of a lathe. There was no carpet on the floor. - -The door opened and a small spare man stood before me, the deprecation -of an offending dog in his beautiful brown eyes. He did not speak or -offer to shake hands, but only stood shyly looking up at me. It was -some time before I could find words. Nance often tells me that I need a -push behind to enable me to take the lead in any conversation--except -with herself, that is, and then I never get a chance. - -"I beg your pardon, doctor," said I, "I was seeking my friend Campbell. -I did not know you had settled amongst us, or I should have been to call -on you before this." - -I held out my hand cordially, for the man appealed to me somehow. But -he did not seem to notice it. - -"No, not 'doctor,'" he said, speaking in a quick agitated way. -"Mister--Roger is my name." - -"I beg your pardon, I am sure," I stammered; "in that case I do not know -how to excuse my intrusion. I asked for the doctor, meaning Dr. -Campbell, and your servant----" - -"My mother, sir!" - -There was pride as well as challenge in the brown eyes now, and I found -myself liking the young man better than ever. - -"I beg your pardon--Mrs. Roger showed me in by mistake, I fear." - -"It was no mistake--I am sometimes called so in this place, though not -by my own will; I have no right to the title!" - -"Well," I said, as I looked round the room. "won't you shake hands with -me? You don't know what a pleasure it is to meet a man of science, as -it is evident you are, here in these forlorn uplands!" - -"Will you pardon me a moment till I inform you exactly of my status?" he -said, "and when you clearly understand, if you still wish to shake my -hand--well, with all my heart." - -He stood silent a moment, and then, suddenly recollecting himself, "Will -you not sit down?" he said. "Pray forgive my discourtesy." - -I sat down, displacing as I did so a box of tools which had been planted -on the green rep of the easy-chair cover. - -"You may well be astonished that I wish to speak to you, Dr. McQuhirr," -he said, beginning restlessly to pace the room, mechanically avoiding -the various obstacles on the floor as he did so; "but I have long wished -to put myself right with a member of the profession, and now that chance -has thrown us together, I feel that I must speak----" - -"But there is Dr. Campbell--surely it cannot be that two men of such -kindred tastes, in a small place like this, should not know each other!" - -He flushed painfully, and turning to a stand near the window, played -with the flywheel of a small model, turning it back and forward with his -finger. - -"Dr. Campbell is the victim of a most unfortunate prejudice," he -murmured softly, and for a space said no more. It was so still in the -room that through the quiet I could hear the tall eight-day clock -ticking half-way up the stairs. - -He resumed his narrative and his pacing to and fro at the same moment. - -"I am," he went on, "at heart of your profession. I have attended all -the classes and earned the encomiums of my professors in the hospitals. -I stood fairly well in the earlier written examinations, but at my first -oral I broke down completely--a kind of aphasia came over me. My brain -reeled, a dreadful shuddering took hold of my soul, and I fell into a -dead faint. For months they feared for my reason, and though ultimately -I recovered and completed my course of study, I was never able to sit -down at an examination-table again. After my father's death my mother -settled here, and gradually it has come about that in any emergency I -have been asked to visit and prescribe for a patient. I believe the poor -people call me 'doctor' among themselves, but I have never either -countenanced the title, or on any occasion failed to rebuke the user. -Neither have I ever accepted fee or reward, whether for advice or -medicine!" - -I held out my hand. - -"I care not a brass farthing about professional etiquette," said I; "it -is my opinion that you are doing a noble work. And I know of one case, -at least, where your diagnosis was better than mine!" - -More I could not say. He flushed redly and took my hand, shaking it -warmly. Then all at once he dropped the somewhat strained elevation of -manner in which he had told his story, and began to speak with the -innocent confidence and unreserve of a child. He was obviously much -pleased at my inferred compliment. - -"Ah!" he said, "I know what you mean. But then, you see, you did not -know James MacLandsborough's life history. He was my father's gardener. -I knew his record and the record of his father before him. It was -nothing but an old complaint, for which I had treated him over and over -again--working, that is, on the basis of a recent chill. In your place -and with your data I should have done what you did. In fact, I admired -your treatment greatly." - -We talked a long while, so long, indeed, that I forgot all about Dr. -Campbell, and it was dusk before I found myself at Mr. Roger's door -saying "Good-night." - -"If I might venture to say so," he stammered, holding my hand a moment -in his quick nervous grasp, "I would advise you not to mention your -visit here to your friend, Dr. Campbell." - -"I am afraid I must," I replied; "I had an appointment with him which I -have unfortunately forgotten in the interest of our talk!" - -"Then I much fear that it is not 'Good-night' but 'Good-bye' between -us!" he murmured sadly, and went within. - -And even as he had prophesied so it was. - - * * * * * - -"Sir," said Dr. Campbell, "I shall be sorry to lose your society, but -you must choose between that house and mine. I have special and family -reasons why I cannot be intimate with any visitor to Mr.----ah, Roger!" - -I had found the doctor lying on his couch, as was his custom, his -curious Oriental tray beside him, and an acrid tang in the air; but at -my first words about my visit he shook off his dreamy abstraction and -sat up. - -"To tell you the truth, Campbell," I said, as calmly as possible, for, -of course, I could not allow any one (except Nance) to dictate to me, "I -was singularly interested in the young man, and--he told his tale, as it -seemed to me, quite frankly. If I am not to call upon him, I must ask -you as to your reasons for a request so singular." - -"It is not a request, McQuhirr," said the doctor, passing his hand -across his brow as if to clear away moisture. "It is only a little -information I give you for your guidance. If you wish to visit this -young man--well, I am deeply grieved, but I cannot receive you here, or -have any intercourse with you professionally." - -"That is saying too much or too little," I replied; "you must tell me -your reasons." - -Then he hesitated, looking from side to side in a semi-dazed way. - -"I would rather not--they are family reasons!" he stammered, as he -spoke. - -"There is such a thing as the seal of the profession," I reminded him. - -"Well," he said at last, "I will tell you. That young man is my nephew, -the son of my elder brother. His name is not Roger, but Roger Campbell. -His mother was my poor brother's housekeeper. He married her some time -after his first wife's death. This boy was their child, and, like a -cuckoo in the nest, he tried from the first to oust his elder -brother--the child of the dead woman. Indeed, but for my interference -his mother and he would have done it between them; for my brother was -latterly wholly in their hands. - -"Finally this lad went to college, and coming here one summer after the -breaking up of the classes he must needs fall in love with Ailie--my -daughter, that is. What?--You never knew that I had a daughter! Ah, -Alec, I was not always the man you see me--I too have had ambitions. But -after--well, what use is there to speak of it? At any rate, young Roger -Campbell fell in love with my Ailie, and she, I suppose, liked it well -enough, but like a sensible girl gave him no immediate answer. Then -after that came his half-brother, who was heir to the little property on -Loch Aweside, and he too fell in love with Ailie. There was no girl -like her in all the Glen of Kells; and as for him, he was a tall, -handsome, fair lad, not crowled and misshapen like this one. Well, Ailie -and he fell in love, and then Roger's mother moved heaven and earth to -disinherit Archie. It was for this cause that I went up to Inchtaggart -and watched my brother during the last weeks of his life. The woman -fought like a wild cat for her son, but I and Archie watched in turns. -It was I who found the will by which Archie inherited all. In three -months Ailie and he were married. Roger Campbell failed in his -examinations the same year, and the next mother and son came back here -to her native village to live on their savings. - -"The mere choice of this place showed their spite against me, but that -is not the worst. Ever since that day they have devoted themselves to -discrediting me in my profession. And you, who know these people, know -to what an extent they have succeeded. My practice has shrunk to -nothing--almost. Even the patients I have, when they do call me in, -send secretly for my enemy before my feet are cold off the doorstep. -Yet I have no redress, for I have never been able to bring a case of -taking fees home to him. Ah! if only I could!" - -Dr. Ignatius fell back exhausted, for towards the last he had been -talking with a vehemence that shook the casements and set the prisms of -the little old chandelier a-tingling. - -"And that is why I say you must choose between us," he said. "Is it not -enough? Have I asked too much?" - -"It is enough for me," I said; "I will do as you wish!" - -Now I did not see anything in his story very much against the young man; -but, after all, the lad was nothing to me, and I had known Dr. Ignatius -a long time. - -So I asked him how it came that the young man was called Roger and not -Campbell. - -"Oh!" he said, "that is the one piece of decent feeling he has shown in -the whole affair. He called himself Campbell Roger when he came here. -You are the only person who knows that he is my nephew." - - * * * * * - -I was glad afterwards that I had made him the promise he asked for. I -never saw him in life again. Dr. Ignatius Campbell died two days after, -being found dead in bed with his tiny pipe clutched in his hand. I went -up that same day, and in conjunction with Dr. John Thoburn Brown of -Drumfern, found that our colleague had long suffered from an acute form -of heart disease, and that it was wonderful how he had survived so long. -The body was lying at the time in the room where he died. The -maid-servant had gone to stay with relatives in the village, not being -willing to remain all night in the house alone; for which, all things -considered, I did not greatly blame her. I asked if there was anything I -could do, but was informed that all arrangements for the funeral had -been made. It was to be on the Friday, two days after. - -I drove up the glen early that morning, and found a tall young man in -the house, opening drawers and rummaging among papers. I understood at -once that this was Mr. Archibald Campbell of Inchtaggart. I greeted him -by that name, and he responded heartily enough. - -"You are Dr. McQuhirr," he said; "my father-in-law often spoke about you -and how kind you were to him. You know that he has left all his books, -papers, and scientific apparatus to you?" - -"I did not know," I said; "that is as unexpected as it is undeserved, -and I hope you will act precisely as if such a bequest had not existed. -You must take all that either you or your wife would care to possess." - -"Oh!" he cried lightly, "Ailie could not come. She has been ill lately, -and as for me, I would not touch one of the beastly things with a -ten-foot pole. Come into the garden and have a smoke." - -There Mr. Archibald Campbell told me that he had arranged for a sale of -the doctor's house and all his effects as soon as possible. - -"Better to have it over," he said, "so you had as well bring up a -conveyance and cart off all the scientific rubbish you care about. I -want all settled up and done with within the month." - -He departed the night after the funeral, leaving the funeral expenses -unpaid. He was a hasty, though well-meaning young man, and no doubt he -forgot. When I came up on the Monday of the week following, I -discovered that the account had been paid. - - * * * * * - -After I had made my selection of books and instruments, besides taking -all the manuscripts (watched from room to room by the Drumfern lawyer's -sharp eye), I strolled out, and my steps turned involuntarily towards -the little house covered with creepers where I had seen the young man -Roger. I felt that death had absolved me from my promise, and with a -quick resolve I turned aside. - -The same woman opened the door an inch or two. I lifted my hat and -asked if her son was in. She held the door open for me without speaking -a word and ushered me into the model-strewn little parlour. I cast my -eyes about. On the table lay the discharged account for the funeral -expenses of Dr. Ignatius Campbell! - -In another moment the door opened and the young man came in, paler than -before, and with the slight halt in his gait exaggerated. - -"How do you do, Mr. Campbell?" I said quietly, holding out my hand. - -He gave back a step, almost as if I had struck him. Then he smiled -wanly. "Ah! he told you. I expected he would; and yet you have come?" -He spoke slowly, the words coming in jerks. - -I held out my hand and said heartily: "Of course I came." - -I did not think it necessary to tell him anything about my agreement -with Dr. Campbell. He, on his part, had quietly possessed himself of -John Ewart's bill for the funeral expenses. We had a long talk, and I -stayed so late that Nance had begun to get anxious about me before I -arrived home. But not one word, either in justification of himself or -of accusation against his uncle, did he utter, though he must have known -well enough what his uncle had said of him. - -Nor was it till a couple of months afterwards that Roger Campbell -adverted again to the subject. I had been to the churchyard to look at -the headstone which had been erected, as I knew, at his expense. He had -asked me to write the inscription for it, and I had done so. - -Coming home, he had to stop several times on the hill to take breath. -When we got to the door he said: "I have but one thing to pray for now, -Dr. McQuhirr, and that is that I may outlive my mother. Give me your -best skill and help me to do that." - -His prayer was answered. He lived just two days after his mother. And -I was with him most of the time, while Nance stayed with my people at -Drumquhat. It was a beautiful Sabbath evening, and the kirk folk were -just coming home. Most who suffer from his particular form of phthisis -imagine themselves to be getting better to the very last, but he knew -too much to have any illusions. I had put the pillows behind him, and -he was sitting up making kindly comment on the people as they passed by, -Bible in hand. He stopped suddenly and looked at me. - -"Doctor," he said, "what my uncle told you about me never made any -difference to you?" - -"No," I said, rather shamefacedly, "no difference at all!" - -"No," he went on, meditatively, "no difference. Well, I want you to burn -two documents for me, lest they fall into the wrong hands--as they might -before these good folk go back kirkward again." - -He directed me with his finger, at the same time handing me a key he -wore upon his watch-chain. - -"Even my poor mother up there," he said, pointing to the room above, -"has never set eyes on what I am going to show you. It is weak of me; I -ought not to do it, doctor, but I will not deny that it is some comfort -to set myselt right with one human soul before I go." - -I took out of a little drawer in a bureau a miniature, a bundle of -letters, and a broadly folded legal-looking document. - -I offered them to Roger, but he waved them away. - -"I do not want to look upon them--they are here!" He touched his -forehead. "And one of them is here!" He laid his hand on his heart -with that freedom of gesture which often comes to the dying, especially -to those who have repressed themselves all their lives. - -I looked down at the miniature and saw the picture of a girl, very -pretty, beautiful indeed, but with that width between the eyes which, in -fair women, gives a double look. - -"Ailie, my brother's wife!" he said, in answer to my glance. "These are -her letters. Open them one by one and burn them." - -I did as he bade me, throwing my eyes out of focus so that I might not -read a word. But out of one fluttered a pressed flower. It was fixed -on a card with a little lock of yellow hair arranged about it for a -frame, fresh and crisp. And as I picked it up I could not help catching -the prettily printed words: - - "TO DARLING ROGER, FROM HIS OWN AILIE." - -There was also a date. - -"Let me look at that!" he said quickly. I gave it to him. He looked at -the flower--a quick painful glance, but as he handed me back the card he -laughed a little. - -"It is a 'Forget-me-not,'" he said. Then in a musing tone he added: -"_Well, Ailie, I never have!_" - -So one by one the letters were burnt up, till only a black pile of ashes -remained, in ludicrous contrast to the closely packed bundle I had taken -from the drawer. - -"Now burn the ribbon that kept them together, and look at the other -paper." - -I unfolded it. It was a will in holograph, the characters clear and -strong, signed by Archibald Ruthven Campbell, of Inchtaggart, -Argyleshire, devising all his estate and property to his son Roger, with -only a bequest in money to his elder son! - -I was dazed as I looked through it, and my lips framed a question. The -young man smiled. - -"My father's last will," he said, "dated a month before his death. She -never knew it." (Again he indicated the upper room where his mother's -body lay.) "_They_ never knew it." (He looked at the girl's picture as -it smiled up from the table where I had laid it.) "My brother Archie -succeeded on a will older by twenty years. But when I lost Ailie, I -lost all. Why should she marry a failure? Besides, I truly believe -that she loves my brother, at least as well as ever she loved me. It is -her nature. That she is infinitely happier with him, I know." - -"Then you were the heir all the time and never told it--not to any one!" -I cried, getting up on my feet. He motioned me towards the grate again. - -"Burn it," he said, "I have had a moment of weakness. It is over. I -ought to have been consistent and not told even you. No, let the -picture lie. I think it does me good. God bless you, Alec! Now, -good-night; go home to your Nance." - - * * * * * - -He died the next forenoon while I was still on my rounds. And when I -went in to look at him, the picture had disappeared. I questioned the -old crone who had watched his last moments and afterwards prepared him -for burial. - -"He had something in his hand," she answered, "but I couldna steer it. -His fingers grippit it like a smith's vice." - -I looked, and there from between the clenched fingers of the dead right -hand the eyes of Ailie Campbell smiled out at me--blue and false as her -own Forget-me-not. - - - - - *LOWE'S SEAT* - - -Elspeth did not mean to go to Lowe's Seat. She had indeed no business -there. For she was the minister's daughter, and at this time of the day -ought to have been visiting the old wives in the white-washed "Clachan" -on the other side of the river, showing them how to render their -patchwork quilts less hideous, compassionating them on their sons' -ungrateful silence (letters arrive so seldom from the "States"). Yet -here was Elspeth Stuart under the waving boughs, seated upon the soft -grassy turf, and employed in nothing more utilitarian than picking a -gowan asunder petal by petal. It was the middle of an August afternoon, -and as hot as it ever is in Scotland. - -Why then had Elspeth gone to Lowe's Seat? It seemed a mystery. It was -to the full as pleasant on the side of the river where dwelt her father, -where complained her maiden aunt, and where after their kind racketed -and stormed her roving vagabond bird-nesting brothers. On the Picts' -Mound beside the kirk (an ancient Moothill, so they say, upon which -justice of the rudest and readiest was of old dispensed) there were -trees and green depths of shade. She might have stayed and read -there--the "Antiquary" perhaps, or "Joseph Andrews," or her first -favourite "Emma," all through the long sweet drowsing summer's -afternoon. But somehow up at Lowe's Seat, the leaves of the wood -laughed to a different tune and the Airds woods were dearer than all -sweet Kenside. - -So in spite of all Elspeth Stuart had crossed in her father's own skiff, -which he used for his longer ministerial excursions "up the water," and -her brothers Frank and Sandy for perch-fishing and laying their "ged" -lines. There was indeed a certain puddock in a high state of -decomposition in a locker which sadly troubled Elspeth as she bent to -the oars. And now she was at Lowe's Seat. - -It is strange to what the love of poetry will drive a girl. Elspeth -tossed back the fair curls which a light wind persisted in flicking -ticklingly over her brow. With a coquettish, blushful, half-indignant -gesture she thrust them back with her hand, as if they ought to have -known better than to intrude upon a purpose so serious as hers in coming -to Lowe's Seat. - -"Here was the place," she murmured to herself, explanatorily, "where the -poor boy hid himself to write his poem--a hundred years ago! Was it -really a hundred years ago?" - -She looked about her, and the wind whispered and rustled and laughed a -little down among the elms and the hazels, while out towards the river -and on a level with her face the silver birches shook their plumes -daintily as a pretty girl her wandering tresses, bending saucily toward -the water as they did so. Then Elspeth said the first two verses of -"Mary's Dream" over to herself. The poem was a favourite with her -father, a hard stern man with a sentimental base, as is indeed very -common in Scotland. - - "The moon had climbed the highest hill - That rises o'er the source of Dee, - And from the eastern summit shed - Her silver light on tower and tree. - - When Mary laid her down to sleep, - Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea, - There soft and low a voice was heard, - Saying, 'Mary, weep no more for me!'" - - -Elspeth was young and she was not critical. Lowe's simple and to the -modern mind somewhat obvious verse, seemed to her to contain the essence -of truth and feeling. But on the other hand she looked adorable as she -said them. For, strangely enough, a woman's critical judgment is -generally in inverse ratio to her personal attractions--though doubtless -there are exceptions to the rule. - -As has been said, she did not go to Lowe's Seat for any particular -purpose. She said so to herself as many as ten times while she was -crossing in the skiff, and at least as often when she was pulling -herself up the steep braeface by the supple hazels and more stubborn -young oaks. - -So Elspeth Stuart continued to hum a vagrant tune, more than half of the -bars wholly silent, and the rest sometimes loud and sometimes soft, as -she glanced downwards out of her green garret high among the leaves. - -More than once she grew restive and pattered impatiently with her -fingers on her lap as if expecting some one who did not come. Only -occasionally she looked down towards the river. Indeed, she permitted -her eyes to rove in every direction except immediately beneath her, -where through a mist of leaves she could see the Dee kissing murmuringly -the rushes on its marge. - -A pretty girl--yes, surely. More than that, one winsome with the wilful -brightness which takes men more than beauty. And being withal only -twenty years of her age, it may well be believed that Elspeth Stuart, -the only daughter of the parish minister of Dullarg, did not move far -without drawing the glances of men after her as a magnet attracts steel -filings. - -Yet a second marvel appeared beneath. There was a young man moving -along by the water's edge and he did not look up. To all appearance -Lowe's Seat might just as well not have existed for him, and its pretty -occupant might have been reading Miss Austen under the pines of the Kirk -Knowe on the opposite side of Dee Water. - -Elspeth also appeared equally unconscious. Of course, how otherwise? -She had plucked a spray of bracken and was peeling away the fronds, -unravelling the tough fibres of the root and rubbing off the underleaf -seeds, so that they showed red on her fingers like iron rust. Wondrous -busy had our maid become all suddenly. But though she had not smiled -when the youth came in sight, she pouted when he made as if he would -pass by without seeing her. Which is a strange thing when you come to -think of it, considering that she herself had apparently not observed -him. - -Suddenly, however, she sang out loudly, a strong ringing stave like a -blackbird from the copse as the sun rises above the hills. Whereat the -young man started as if he had been shot. Hitherto he had held a -fishing-rod in his hand and seemed intent only on the stream. But at -the sound of Elspeth's voice he whirled about, and catching a glimpse of -bright apparel through the green leaves, he came straight up through the -tangle with the rod in his hand. Even at that moment it did not escape -Elspeth's eye that he held it awkwardly, like one little used to -Galloway burn-sides. She meant to show him better by-and-by. - -Having arrived, the surprise and mutual courtesies were simply -overpowering. Elspeth had not dreamed--the merest impulse had led -her--she had been reading Lowe's poem the night before. It was really -the only completely sheltered place for miles, where one could muse in -peace. He knew it was, did he not? - -But we must introduce this young man. If he had possessed a card it -would have said: "The Rev. Allan Syme, B.A." - -He was the new minister of the Cameronian Kirk at Cairn Edward. He has -just been "called," chiefly because the other two on the short leet had -not been considered sufficiently "firm" in their views concerning an -"Erastian Establishment," as at the Kirk on the Hill they called the -Church of Scotland nationally provided for by the Revolution Settlement. - -In his trial discourses, however, Mr. Syme had proved categorically that -no good had ever come out of any state-supported Church, that the -ministers of the present establishment were little better than priests -of the Scarlet Woman who sitteth on the Seven Hills, and that all those -who trusted in them were even as the moles and the bats, children of -darkness and travellers on the smoothly macadamised highway to -destruction. - -Nevertheless, at that free stave of Elspeth's carol Allan Syme went up -hill as fast as if he had never preached a sermon on the text, "And -Elijah girded up his loins and ran before Ahab unto the entering in of -Jezreel." - -At half-past eleven by the clock the minister of the Cameronian Kirk sat -down beside this daughter of an Erastian Establishment. - -Have you heard the leaves of beech and birch laugh as they clash and -rustle? That is how the wicked summer woods of Airds laughed that day -about Lowe's Seat. - - * * * * * - -Half a mile down the river there is a ferry boat which at infrequent -intervals pushes a flat duck's bill across Dee Water. It is wide enough -to take a loaded cart of hay, and long enough to accommodate two young -horses tail to tail and yet leave room for the statutory flourishing of -heels. - -Bess MacTaggart could take it across with any load upon it you pleased, -pushing easily upon an iron lever. They use a wheel now, but it was -much prettier in the old days when all for a penny you could watch Bess -lift the toothed lever with a sharp movement of her shapely arm, wet and -dripping from the chain, as it slowly dredged itself up from the river -bed. - -It was half-past four when, in reply to repeated hails, the boat left -the Dullarg shore with a company of three men on board, and in addition -the sort of person who is called a "single lady." - -Two of the men stood together at one end of the ferry-boat, and after -Bess had bidden one of them sharply to "get out of her road," she called -him "Drows" to make it up, and asked him if he were going over to the -lamb sale at Nether Airds. - -"If it's the Lord's wull!" Drows replied, with solemnity. - -Both he and his companion had commodious, clean-shaven "horse" faces, -with an abundance of gray hair standing out in a straggling -semi-circular aureole underneath the chin. Cameronian was stamped upon -their faces with broad strong simplicity. The blue bonnet, already -looking old-world among the universal "felts" common to most adult -manhood--the deep serious eyes, as it were withdrawn under the penthouse -of bushy brows, and looking upon all things (even lamb sales) as -fleeting and transitory--the long upper lip and the mouth tightly -compressed--these marked out John Allanson of Drows and Matthew Carment -of Craigs as pillars of that Kirk which alone of all the fragments of -Presbytery is senior to the Established Church of Scotland. - -On the other side of the boat and somewhat apart stood Dr. Hector -Stuart, gazing gloomily at the black water as it rippled and clappered -under the broad lip of the ferry-boat. A proud man, a Highland -gentleman of old family, was the minister of Dullarg. He kept his head -erect, and for any notice he had taken of the Cameronian elders, they -might just as well not have been on the boat at all. And in their turn -the elders of the Cameronian Kirk compressed their lips more firmly and -their eyes seemed deeper set in their heads when their glances fell on -this pillar of Erastianism. For nowhere is the racial antipathy of -north and south so strong as in Galloway. There, and there alone, the -memory of the Highland Host has never died out, and every autumn when -the hills glow red with heather from horizon to horizon verge, the story -is told to Galloway childhood of how Lag and Clavers wasted the heritage -of the Lord, and how from Ailsa to Solway all the west of Scotland is -"flowered with the blood of the Martyrs." - -The thin nervous woman kept close to the minister's elbow. - -"I tell you I saw her cross the water, Hector," she was saying as Dr. -Stuart looked ahead, scanning keenly the low sandy shores they were -nearing. - -"The boat is gone and she has not returned. It is a thing not proper for -a young lady and a minister's daughter to be so long absent from home!" - -"My daughter has been too well brought up to do aught that is improper!" -said Dr. Stuart, with grave sententious dignity. "You need not pursue -the subject, Mary!" - -There was just enough likeness between them to stamp the pair as brother -and sister. As the boat touched the edge of the sharply sloping shingle -bank, the hinged gang-plank tilted itself up at a new angle. The -passengers paid their pennies to Bess MacTaggart and stepped sedately on -shore. The boat-house stands in a water-girt peninsula, the Ken being -on one side broad and quiet, the Black Water on the other, sulky and -turbulent. So that for half a mile there was but one road for this -curiously assorted pair of pairs. - -And as they approached them the woods of Airds laughed even more -mockingly, with a ripple of tossing birch plumes like a woman when she -is merry in the night and dares not laugh aloud. And the beeches -responded with a dryish cackle that had something of irony in it. -Listen and you will hear how it was the next time a beech-tree shakes -out his leaves to dry the dew off them. - -The two elders came to a quick turn of the road. There was a stile just -beyond. A moment before a young man had overleaped it, and now he was -holding up his hands encouragingly to a girl who smiled down upon him -from above. It was a difficult stile. The dyke top was shaky. Two of -the bottom steps; were missing altogether. All who have once been young -know the kind of stile--verily, a place of infinite danger to the -unwary. - -So at least thought Elspeth Stuart, as for a long moment she stood -daintying her skirts about her ankles on the perilous copestone, and -drawing her breath a little short at the sight of the steep descent into -the road. - -The elders also stood still, and behind them the other pair came slowly -up. And surely some wicked tricksome Puck laughed unseen among the -beech leaves. - -Elspeth Stuart had taken the young man's hand now. He was lifting her -down. There--it was done. And--yes, you are right--something else -happened--just what would have happened to you and me, twenty, thirty, -or is it forty years ago? - -Then with a clash and a rustle the beeches told the tale to the birches -over all the wooded slopes of the hill of Airds. - - * * * * * - -"Elspeth!" - -"Elspeth Stuart!" - -"_Maister Syme!_" - -The names came from four pairs of horrified lips as the parties to the -above mentioned transaction fell swiftly asunder, with sudden stricken -horror on their faces. The first cry came shrill and keen, and was -accompanied by an out-throwing of feminine hands. The second fell -sternly from the mouth of one who was at once a parent and a minister of -the Establishment outraged in his tenderest feelings. But indubitably -the elders had it. For one thing, they were two to one, and as they -said for the second time with yet deeper gravity "_Maister Syme!_" it -appeared at once that they, and only they, were able adequately to deal -with the unprecedented situation. But the others did what they could. - -Mistress Mary Stuart, the minister's maiden sister, flew forward with an -eager cry, the "scraich" of a desperate hen when she is on the wrong -side of the fence and sees the "daich" disappearing down a hundred -hungry throats. - -She clutched her niece by the arm. - -"Come away this moment!" she cried, "do you know who this young man is?" - -But Elspeth did not answer. She was looking at her father, Dr. Stuart, -whose eyes were bent upon the young man. Very stern they were, the -fierce sudden darkness of Celtic anger in them. But the young -Cameronian minister knew that he had far worse to face than that, and -met the frown of paternal severity with shame indeed mantling on his -cheek and neck, but yet with a certain quiet of determination firming -his heart within him. - -"Sir," he said, "that of which you have been witness was no more than an -accident--the fault of impulse and young blood. But I own I was carried -away. I ask the young lady's pardon and yours. I should have spoken to -you first, but now I will delay no longer. Sir, I love your daughter!" - -Then came for the first time a slight smile upon the pale face of his -fellow-culprit. She said in her heart, "Ah, Allan, if ye had spoken -first to my father, feint a kiss would ye ever have gotten from Elspeth -Stuart!" - -But at the manful words of the young Cameronian the face of her father -grew only the more stern, the two elders watching and biding their time -by the roadside. - -They knew that it would come before long. - -At last after a long silence Dr. Stuart spoke. - -"Sir," he said grimly, "I do not bandy words with a stranger upon the -public highway. I myself have nothing to say to you. I forbid you ever -again to speak to my daughter. Elspeth, follow me!" - -And with no more than this he turned and stalked away. But his daughter -also had the high Highland blood in her veins. She shook off with one -large motion of her arm the stringy clutch of her aunt's fingers. - -"Heed you not, Allan," she said, speaking very clearly, so that all -might hear, "when ye want her, Elspeth Stuart will come the long road -and the straight road to speak a word with you." - -It was a bold avowal to make, and a moment before the girl had not meant -to say anything of the kind. But they had taken the wrong way with her. - -"Oh, unmaidenly--most unmaidenly!" cried her aunt, "come away--ye are -mad this day, Elspeth Stuart--he has but a hunder a year of stipend, and -may lose that ony day!" - -But Elspeth did not answer. She was holding out her hand to Allan Syme. -He bent quickly and kissed it. This young man had had a mother who -taught him gracious ways, not at all in keeping with the staid manners -of a son of the covenants. - - * * * * * - -"And now, sir," said John Allanson of Drows, turning grimly upon his -minister, who stood watching Elspeth's girlish figure disappear round -the curve of the green-edged track, "what have you to say to us?" - -Then Allan Syme's pulses leaped quick and light, for he knew that of a -surety the time of his visitation was at hand. Yet his heart did not -fail within him. At the last it was glad and high. "For after all" (he -smiled as he thought it), "after all--well, they cannot _take_ that from -me." - -"Sir," said Matthew Carment, in a louder tone, "heard ye the quastion -that your ruling elder hath pitten till ye?" - -"John and Matthew," said the young man, gently, "ye are my elders, and I -will not answer you as I did Dr. Stuart." - -"The priest of Midian!" said Matthew Carment. - -"The forswearer of covenants!" said John Allanson. - -"But I will speak with you as those who have been unto me as Aaron and -Hur for the upholding of mine hands----" - -"Say, rather," said John Allanson, sternly, "as Phineas the son of -Eleazar, the son of Aaron, the priest who thrust through the Midianitish -woman in sight of all the congregation of Israel, as they stood weeping -before the door of the tabernacle!" - -"So the plague was stayed from the children of Israel," quoted Matthew -Carment, gravely, finishing his friend's sentence. - -Allan Syme winced. The words had been his Sunday's text. - -"I tell you, gentlemen," he said quickly, "since God gave Eve to Adam -there has not been on earth a sweeter, truer maid than this. You have -heard me declare my love for her. Well, I love her more than I dare -trust my tongue to utter!" - -"And how about your love for the Covenants? And for the Faithful Remnant -of the persecuted Kirk of the Martyrs?" said Drows, with a certain -dreary persistence that wore on Allan Syme like prolonged toothache. - -Then Matthew Carment, who, though slower than the ruling elder, but was -not less sure, gave in his contribution. - -"'Like unto Eve,' said ye? A true word--verily, a most true word! For -did not we with our own eyes see ye with her partake of the forbidden -fruit? But there is a difference--_your_ eyes, young man, have not yet -been opened!" - -Allan Syme began to grow angry. - -"I am a free agent," he said fiercely. "I am not a child under bonds. -You are not my tutors and governors by any law, human or divine. Nor am -I answerable to you whom I shall woo, or whom I shall wed!" - -"Ye are answerable to God and the Kirk!" cried the two with one voice. - -And to this Matthew Carment again added his say. The three were now -walking slowly in the direction of the lamb sale. - -"Sir, I mind how ye well described the so-called ministers of the -establishment--'locusts on the face of our land,' these were your words, -'instruments of inefficiency, the plague spot upon the nation, the very -scorn of Reformation, and a scandal to Religion!' Ye said well, -minister; and the spawn of Belial is like unto Belial!" - -Allan Syme was now angry exceedingly. - -"God be my judge," he cried, "she whom I love is more Christian than the -whole pack of you. Never has she spoken an ill word of any, ever since -I have known her!" - -"And wherefore should she?" said John Allanson of Drows, as -dispassionately as a clerk reading an indictment. "Hath she not been -clothed in fine linen and fared sumptuously every day? Hath she not -eaten of the fine flour and the honey and the oil? Hath she not been -adorned with broidered work and shod with badger skin, and, even as her -sisters Aholah and Aholibah of old, hath not power been given unto her -to lead even the hearts of the elect captive?" - -Then Allan Syme broke forth furiously. - -"Your tongues are evil!" he said, "ye are not fit to take her name on -your lips. She is to me as the mother of our Lord--yes, as Mary, the -wife of Joseph, the carpenter!" - -"And indeed I never thocht sae muckle o' that yin either," said Matthew -of Craigs, "the Papishes make ower great a to-do about her for my -liking!" - -"Matthew Carment and John Allanson, I bid you hearken to me," cried the -young minister. - -"Aye, Allan Syme, we will hearken!" they answered, fronting him eye to -eye. - -"God judge between you and me," he said. "He hath said that for this -cause shall a man leave father and mother, and cleave unto his wife. -Now, I know well that if ye like, you two can take from me my kirk and -all my living. But I have spoken, and I will adhere. I have promised, -and I will keep. Take this my parting message. Do your duty as it is -revealed to you. I will go forth freely and willingly. Naked I came -among you--naked will I go. The hearts of my people are dearer to me -than life. Ye can twine them from me if you will. Ye can out me from -my kirk, send me forth of my manse--cast me upon the world as a man -disgraced. But, as I am a sinner answerable to God, there are two -things you cannot do, ye cannot make me break my plighted word nor make -me other than proud of the love I have won from God's fairest creature -upon earth." - -And with these words he turned on his heel and strode straight uphill -away from them in the direction of his distant home. - -The two men stood looking after him. Drows stroked his shaggy fringe of -beard. Matthew Carment put his hand to his eyes and gazed under it as -if he had been looking into the sunset. There was a long silence. At -last the two turned and looked at each other. - -"Weel, what think ye?" said Drows, ruling elder and natural leader in -debate. - -There was a still longer pause, for Matthew Carment was a man slow by -nature and slower by habit. - -"He's a fine lad!" he said at last. - -Drows broke a twig elaborately from the hedge and chewed the ends. - -"So I was thinkin'!" he answered. - -"I had it in my mind at the time he was speakin'," began Matthew, and -then hesitated. - -"Aye, what was in your mind?" - -"I was thinkin' on the days when I courted Jean!" - -"Aye, man!" - -There was another long silence. - -It was Draws who broke it this time, and he said, "I--I was thinkin' -too, Mathy! Aye, man, I was thinkin'!" - -"Aboot Marget?" queried Matthew Carment. - -"_Na, no aboot Marget!_" - -They were silent again. The ruling elder settled to another green sprig -of hedge-thorn. It seemed palatable. He got on well with it. - -"Man," he said at last, "do ye ken, Mathy--when he turned on us like -yon, I was kind o' prood o' him. My heart burned within me. It was -maybe no verra like a minister o' the Kirk. But, oh man, it was awesome -human!" - -"Then I judge we'll say nae mair aboot it!" said Matthew Carment, -turning towards the farm where the lamb sale was by this time well under -weigh. "Hoo mony are ye thinkin' o' biddin' for the day, Drows?" - - - - - *THE SUIT OF BOTTLE GREEN* - - -At the Manse of Dullarg things did not go over well. Dr. Stuart, being -by nature a quick, passionate, and imperious Celt, had first of all -ordered his daughter to promise never again to hold any communication -with the young Cameronian minister of Cairn Edward. It was thus that he -himself had been taught to understand family discipline. He was the -head of the clan, as his father had been before him. He claimed to be -Providence to all within his gates. His hand of correction was not -withheld from his boys, Frank and Sandy, until the day they ran away -from home to escape him. He could not well adopt this plan to the -present case, but when Elspeth refused point blank to give any promise, -her father promptly convoyed his daughter to her own room and locked her -up there. She would stay where she was till she changed her mind. Her -aunt would take up her meals, and he himself would undertake to inform -her as to her duties and responsibilities at suitable intervals. There -was not the least doubt in the mind of Dr. Stuart as to the result of -such a course of treatment. Had he not willed it? That was surely -enough. - -But his sister was not so sure, though she did not dare to say so to the -Doctor more than once. - -"She is a very headstrong girl, Murdo," she said, tremulously, as she -gathered Elspeth's scanty breakfast on a tray next morning, "it might -drive her to some rash act!" - -"Nonsense," retorted her brother, sharply, "did not our father do -exactly the same to you, to keep you from marrying young Campbell of -Luib?" - -Mary Stuart's wintry-apple face twitched and flushed. - -"Yes--yes," she fluttered, with a quaver in her voice, as if deprecating -further allusion to herself, "but Elspeth is not like me, Murdo. She -has more of your spirit." - -"Let me hear no more of the matter," said her brother, turning away, -"_I_ wish it, and besides, I have my sermon to write." - -But when the maiden aunt knocked at the door and entered with Elspeth's -breakfast, she was astonished to find the girl sitting by the window -dressed exactly as she had been on the previous evening. Her face was -very pale, but her lips were compressed and her eyes dry. - -"Elspeth," she said uncertainly, her woman's intuition in a moment -detecting that which a man might not have discovered at all, "you have -not had off your clothes all night. You have never been to bed!" - -"No, Aunt Mary!" - -"But what will the Doctor say--think of your father----" - -"I do not care what he will say. Let him come and compel me if he can. -He can thrash me as he does Frank." - -"But--oh, Elspeth--Elspeth, dear," the old lady trembled so much that -she just managed to lay the tray down on the untouched bed opposite the -window, "what will God say?" - -"'Like as a father pitieth his children,' isn't that what it says?" The -words came out of the depths of the bitterness of that young heart, -"well, if that be true, God will say nothing; for if He is like my -father, He will not care!" - -The old lady sat down on an old rocking-chair which Elspeth liked to -keep in the window to sit in and read, half because it had been her -mother's, and half (for Elspeth was not usually a sentimental young -woman) because it was comfortable. - -She put her hands to her face and sobbed into them. Then for the first -time Elspeth looked at her. Hitherto she had been staring straight out -at the window. So she had seen the day pass and the night come. So she -had seen and not seen, heard and not heard the shadow of night sweep -across the broad river, the stars come out, the cue owls mew as they -flashed past silent as insects on the wing, and last of all, the rooks -clamour upwards from the tall trees at break of day. - -Now, however, she watched her aunt weeping with that curious sense of -detachment which comes to the young along with a first great sorrow. - -"Why should _she_ weep?" Elspeth was asking herself, "she had nothing to -cry for. There can be no sorrow in the world like my sorrow and -shame--and _his_, that is, if he really cares. Perhaps he does not -care. They say in books that men often pretend. But no--he at least -never could do that. He is too true, too simple, too direct--and he -loves me!" - -So she watched her aunt rock to and fro and sob without any pity in her -heart, but only with a growing wonderment--much as a condemned man might -look at a companion who was complaining of toothache. The long vigil of -the night had made the girl's heart numb and dead within her. At twenty -sorrow and joy alike arrive in superlatives. - -Then quite suddenly a spasm of pity of a curious sort came to Elspeth -Stuart. After all, it was worth while to love. _He_ was suffering too. -Aunt Mary had no one to love her--to suffer with her. Poor Aunt Mary! -So she went quickly across and laid her hand on the thin shoulder. It -felt angular even through the dress. The sobs shook it. - -"Do not cry, auntie," she said, softly and kindly. "I am sorry I vexed -you. I did not know." - -The old lady looked up at her niece. Elspeth started at the sight of a -tear stealing down a wrinkle. Tears on young faces are in place. They -can be kissed away, but this seemed wrong somehow. - -She patted the thin cheek which had already begun to take on the dry -satiny feel of age, which is so different from the roseleaf bloom of -youth. - -"Then you will obey your father?" - -The words came tremulously. The pale lips "wickered." The tear had -trickled thus far now, but Aunt Mary did not know it. It is only youth -that tastes its own tears. And generally rather likes the flavour. - -Elspeth did not stop petting her aunt. She stroked the soft hair, -thinning now and silvering. Then she smiled a little. - -"No," she said, "I will _not_ obey my father, Aunt Mary. I am no child -to be put in the corner. I am a woman, and know what I want." - -Yet it was only during the past night watches that she had known it for -certain. But yesterday her desire to see Allan Syme had been no more -than a little ache deep down in her heart. Now it had become all her -life. So fertile a soil wherein to grow love is injudicious opposition. - -"But at any rate you will take your breakfast?" - -"To please you I will try, aunt!" - -Aunt Mary plucked up heart at once. This was better. She had made a -beginning. The rest would follow. - -When she went downstairs her brother came out of his study to get the -key of his daughter's room. She told him how that Elspeth had never gone -to bed, and had barely picked at her breakfast. - -Dr. Stuart made no remark. He turned and went into his study again to -work at his sermon. He too thought that all went well. He held that -belief which causes so much misery in the world, that woman's will must -always bend before man's. - -So it does--provided the man is the right man. - - * * * * * - -On the third day of her confinement Elspeth Stuart wrote a letter. It -began without ceremony, and ended without signature: - -"You told me that you loved me. Tell it me again--on paper. I am very -unhappy. My father keeps me locked up to make me promise never to speak -to you or write to you. I do not mind this, except that I cannot go to -Lowe's Seat. But I must be assured that you continue to love me. I know -you do, but all the same I want to be told it. If you address, 'Care of -the Widow Barr, at the Village of Crosspatrick,' Frank will bring it -safely." - -It was a simple epistle, without lofty aspirations or wise words. But -it was a loving letter, and admirably adapted to prove satisfactory to -its recipient. And had Allan Syme known what was on its way to him he -would have lifted up his heart. He was completing his pastoral -visitation, and with a sort of fixed despair awaiting the next meeting -of Session. For neither his ruling elder nor yet that slow-spoken -veteran, Matthew Carment, had passed a word more to him concerning the -vision they had seen upon the fringes of the Airds woods, on the day -that had proved such a day of doom to his sweetheart and himself. - - * * * * * - -Frank Stuart, keenly sympathetic with Elspeth's sufferings though -notably contemptuous of their cause, willingly performed what was -required of him. Being as yet untouched by love, he thought Elspeth -extremely silly. He had no interest ministers. If Elspeth had fallen -in love with a soldier now--he meant to be a sailor himself, but a -soldier was at least somebody in the scheme of things. Of course, his -father was a minister--but then people must have fathers. This was -different. However, it was not his business: girls were all silly. - -And on this broad principle Master Frank took his stand. With equal -breadth of view he conveyed the letter to the "Weedow's" at -Crosspatrick, en route for the Cameronian manse at Cairn Edward. - -But before he set out, he must have his grumble. He was beneath the -window of his sister's room at the time. His father had been under -observation all the morning, and was now safely off on his visitations. -By arrangement with Aunt Mary, Elspeth was allowed the run of the whole -upper story of the Dullarg Manse during Dr. Stuart's daily absences. -So, on parole, she came to this little window in the gable end, where -Frank and she could commune without fear of foreign observation. - -"What for could ye no have promised my father onything--and then no done -it!" - -The suggestion betrayed Master Frank's own plan of campaign, and renders -more excusable the Doctor's frequent appeal to the argument of the -hazel. - - * * * * * - -After this there ensued for Elspeth a long and weary time. Every day -Frank, detaching himself from the untrustworthy Sandy, slid off down the -waterside to Crosspatrick. Every day he returned empty-handed and -contemptuous. - -This it was to love a minister, and one who was not even a "regular." -Why had not Elspeth, if she must fall in love, chosen a sailor? - -In those days there was no regular postal delivery on the remoter -country districts. The mails came in an amateurish sort of way by coach -to Cairn Edward, and thereafter distributed themselves, as it were, -automatically. When the postage was paid, the authorities had no more -care in the matter. Yet there was a kind of system in the thing, too. - -It was understood that any one being in Cairn Edward on business should -"give a look in" at the Post Office, and if there were any letters for -his neighbourhood, and he happened to have in his pocket the necessary -spare "siller" at the moment, he would pay the postage and bring them to -the "Weedow Barr's" shop in the village of Crosspatrick. - -It may be observed that there were elements of uncertainty inseparable -from such an arrangement. And these told hard on our poor prisoner of -fate during these great endless midsummer days. She pined and grew -pale, like a woodland bird shut suddenly in a close cage at that season -when mate begins to call to mate through all the copses of birch and -alder. - -"He does not love me--oh, he cannot love me!" she moaned. But again, as -she thought of the stile on the way to Lowe's Seat--"But he does love -me!" she said. - -Then, sudden as a falling star, Fear fell on that green summer world. -There came a weird sough through all the valley, a crying of folk to -each other across level holms, shrill answerings of herd to herd on the -utmost hills. The scourge of God had come again! The Cholera--the -Cholera! Dread word, which we in these times have almost forgot the -thrill of in our flesh. Mysteriously and inevitably the curse swept on. -It was at Leith at Glasgow--at Dumfries--at Cairn Edward. It was -coming! coming! coming! Nearer, nearer ever nearer! - -And men at the long scythe, sweeping the lush meadow hay aside with that -most prideful of all rustic gestures, fell suddenly chill and shuddered -to their marrows. The sweat of endeavour dried on them, and left them -chill, as if the night wind had stricken them. Women with child swarfed -with fear at their own door cheeks, and there was a crying within long -ere the posset-cup could be made ready. Neighbour looked with sudden -suspicion at neighbour, and men at friendly talk upon the leas -manoeuvred to get to windward of each other. - -Death was coming--had come! And in his study, grim and unmoved, Dr. -Murdo Stuart sat preparing his Sabbath's sermon on the text, "Therefore -... because I will do this unto thee, prepare to meet thy God, O -Israel!" - -But in the shut chamber above Elspeth waited and watched, the hope that -is deferred making her young heart sicker and ever sicker. Still she -had not heard. No answering word had reached her, and it was now the -second week. He did not love her--he could not. - -_But still!_ - -They had told her nothing, and, indeed, during that first time of fear -and uncertainty, they knew nothing for certain, away up by themselves in -the wide wild moor parish of Dullarg. There were no market days in -Cairn Edward any more. So much the farmers knew. The men of the -landward parishes set guards with loaded guns upon every outgoing road. -There was no local authority in those days, and men in such cases had to -look to themselves. The infected place, be it city, town, or village, -farm-steading or cottage, was completely and bitterly isolated. None -might come out or go in. Provisions, indeed, were left in a convenient -spot; but secretly and by night. And the bearer shot away again, bent -half to the ground with eagerness, fear, and speed, a cloth to his -mouth, for the very wind that passed over him was Death. It was not so -much a disease as a certain Fate. Whoso was smitten was taken. In -fact, to all that rustic world it was the Visitation of Very God. - -In the main street of Cairn Edward grass grew; yet the place was not -unpopulous. With the revival of trade and industry during the later -years of the great war a cotton mill had been erected in a side street. -The houses of the work folk were strung out from it. Then parallel with -this there was a more ancient main street of low beetle-browed houses, -many of them entering by a step down off the uneven causeway. At the -upper end, near the Cross, were some better-class houses, some of them -of two stories, a change-house or two, and down on the damp marshy land -towards the loch, the cluster of huts which had formed the original -nucleus of the village--now fallen into disrepute and disrepair, and -nominated, from the nationality of many of its inhabitants, "Little -Dublin." - -In ten days a third of the inhabitants of this suburb had died. There -was but one minister within the strait bounds of the straggling village. -The parish church and manse lay two miles away out on a braeface -overlooking yellowing widths of corn-land. And the minister thereof -abode in his breaches, every day giving God thank that he was not shut -up within those distant white streets, from which, day by day, the -housewifely reek rose in fewer and fewer columns. - -But Allan Syme was within, and could not pause to marry or to give in -marriage, to preach or to pray, so full of his Master's business was he. -For he must nurse and succour by day and bury by night, week day and -Holy Day. He it was who upheld the dying head. He swathed the corpse -while it was yet warm. He tolled the death-bell in the steeple. He -harnessed the horse to the rude farm-cart. Sometimes all alone he dug -the grave in the soft marshy flow, and laid the dead in the brown -peat-mould. For it was no time to stand upon trifles this second time -that the Scourge of God had come to Cairn Edward. - -To the outer limit of the cordon of watchers came the carriers and the -farmers, the country lairds' servants, and less frequently the bien -well-stomached meal millers. In silence they deposited their goods, for -the most part with no niggard hand. In silence they took the fumigated -pound notes, smelling of sulphur, or the silver coin of the realm, with -the crumbles of quick-lime still sticking to the milling of the edges. - -So across a kind of neutral zone, fearful country and infected town -stood glowering at each other like embattled enemies, musket laid ready -in the crook of elbow. - -And when one mad with the Fear tried to cross, he was hunted like a wild -beast, or shot at like a rabbit running for its burrow. And the -townsmen did in like manner. For ill as it might fare with them, there -was deadlier yet to fear. In Cairn Edward they had the White Cholera, -as it was called. The Black was at Dumfries--so, at least, the tale -ran. - -And as he went about his work, Allan Syme called upon his God, and -thought of Elspeth. But her letter never reached him, and he knew -nothing of her vigils. The day before he might have known the Fear -fell, and the door was shut. - - * * * * * - -It was on Saturday afternoon that the tidings came to Elspeth Stuart, -lonely watcher and loving heart. It was her brother Sandy who brought -them. He knew nothing of Elspeth's matters, being young and by nature -unworthy of trust. He had been down to Crosspatrick on some errand, and -now, having arrived back within hailing distance, he was retailing his -experiences to his brother Frank. - -"I got yon letter back frae the Weedow--an', as I wasna gangin' hame, I -gied it to my faither." - -"_What letter?_" - -Elspeth could hear the sudden angry alarm in Frank's voice; but she -herself had no premonition of danger. - -"The letter ye took doon to Crosspatrick for Elspeth ten days syne. -Ye'll catch it, my man!" - -The girl's heart sank, and then leapt again within her. - -Her father had her letter--he would read it. It was plainly addressed in -her handwriting to Allan Syme. What should she do? - -But wait--there was something else. With a quick back-spang came the -countering joy. - -"But then he has never got my letter. He knows nothing of my -unhappiness. He has not forgotten me. He loves me still. What care I -for aught else but that?" - -There came up from the courtyard a sound of blows, and then Sandy's -wail. - -"I'll tell my faither on ye, that I will. How was I to ken aboot -Elspeth's letter? And they say the minister-man it was wrote to is -dead, at ony rate!" - -Elspeth heard unbelievingly. Dead--Allan dead! And she not know. -Absurd! It was only one of Sandy's lies to irritate his brother because -he had been thrashed. She knew Sandy. Nevertheless she threw up the -window. Sandy was again at his parable. - -"They buried twenty-five yesterday in the moss. The minister was there -wi' the last coffin, and fell senseless across it. He never spoke -again. He is to be buried the morn if they can get the coffin made!" - -Then, so soon as she was convinced that Sandy was not inventing, and -that he had only repeated the gossip of the village, a kind of cold -calmness took hold of Elspeth. She called Frank in to her, and when he -came, lo! his face was far whiter than hers. - -She made him tell her all they had kept from her--of the dread plague -that had fallen so sudden and swift upon the townlet to which Allan had -carried her heart. Then she thought awhile fiercely, not wavering in -her purpose, but only trying this way and that, like one who thrusts -with his staff for the safest passage over a dangerous bog. Frank -watched her keenly, but could make nothing of her intent. At last she -spoke: - -"Go and get me the key of your box." - -"What do ye want with the key of my box?" queried her brother, -astonished. - -"Never heed that," said Elspeth, clipping her words imperiously, as, in -seasons of stress, she had a way of doing; "do as I bid you!" - -And being accustomed to such obediences, and albeit sorry for her, Frank -went out, only remarking ominously that he would have a job, for that -Aunt Mary carried it on her bunch. - -He came back in exactly ten minutes, and threw the key on the floor. - -"Easier than I expected," he said, triumphantly; "the old buzzer was -asleep!" - -"Give me the key," said Elspeth, still in a brown study by the window. - -But this was too much for Frank. - -"Pick it up for yourself, Els," he said, "and mind you are to swear you -found it on the floor!" - -Frank knew very well that if one is going to lie back and forth (as he -intended to do when questioned), it is well to be prepared with -occasional little scraps of truth. They cheer one up so. - -Elspeth took the key, and hid it in her pocket. - -"Now you can go," she said, and sat down on the bed, staring out at the -broad river quietly slipping by. - -"Well, you might at least have said 'thank you----'" began Frank. But -catching the expression of her face, he suddenly desisted, and went out -without another word. - - * * * * * - -No, Allan Syme was not dead. But he staggered home that night certainly -more dead than alive. All day long he had moved in an atmosphere of the -most appalling pestilence. The reek of mortality seemed to solidify in -his nostrils, and his heart for the first time fainted within him. - -He knew that there would be no welcome for him in the dark and lonely -manse; no meal, no comfort, no living voice; not so much as a dog to -lick his hand. His housekeeper, a mere hireling, had fled at the first -alarm. - -It was dusk as he thrust the key into the latch, as he did so staggering -against the lintel from sheer weariness. He stood a little while in the -passage, shuddering with the oncomings of mortal sickness. Then with -flint, steel, and laborious tinder box he coaxed a light for the -solitary taper on the hall table. This done, he turned aside into the -little sitting-room on the right hand, where he kept his divinity books. - -A slight figure came forward to meet him, with upturned face and clasped -petitionary hands. The action was a girl's, but the dress and figure -were those of a boy. Upon the threshold the minister stopped dead. He -thought that this was the first symptom of delirium--he had seen it in -so many, and had watched for it in himself. - -But the lad still came forward, and laid a hand on his arm. He wore a -suit of bottle green with silver buttons, a world too wide for his slim -form. Knee breeches and buckled shoes completed his attire. Allan Syme -stared wide-eyed, uncomprehending, his hand pressed to his aching brow -in the effort to see truly. - -"You are not dead. Thank God!" said the boy, in a voice that took him -by the throat. - -"Who--who are you?" The words came dry and gasping from the minister's -parched lips. - -"_I am Elspeth--do you not know me?_" - -"Elspeth--Elspeth--why did you come here--and thus?" - -"They told me you were dead--and my father locked me up! And--what -chance had a girl to pass the guards? They fired at me--see!" - -And lifting a wet curl from her brow, she showed a wound. - -"Elspeth--Elspeth--what is all this? What have they done to you?" - -"Nothing--nothing--it is but a scratch. The man almost missed me -altogether." - -"Beloved, what have you done with your hair?" - -"I cut it off, that I might the better deceive them!" - -"Elspeth--you must go back! This is no place for you!" - -"I will not go back home. I will die first!" - -"But, Elspeth, think if any one saw you--what would they say?" - -"That I came to help you--to nurse you! I do not care what they would -say." - -"My dear--my dear, you cannot bide here. I would to God you could; but -you cannot. I must think how to get you away. I must think--I must -think!" - -The minister, sick unto death, stood with his hand still pressed to his -brow. At sight of him, and because, after all she had gone through for -him, he had given her neither welcome nor kiss, a swift spasm of anger -flashed up into Elspeth's eyes. - -"You are ashamed of me, Allan Syme--let me go. I will never see you -more. You do not love me! I will not trouble you. Open the door!" - -"God knows I love you better than my soul!" said Allan; "but let me -think. Father in heaven--I cannot think! My brain runs round." - -He gave a slight lurch like a felled ox, and swayed forward. - -Instantly, as a lamp that the wind blows out, all the anger went out of -Elspeth Stuart's eyes. She caught Allan in her strong young arms and -laid him on the worn couch, displacing with a sweep of her hand a whole -score of volumes as she laid him down. - -He lay a moment stiff and still. Then a spasm of pain contorted his -features. He opened his eyes, and looked into his sweetheart's eyes. -Then, with the swift astonishing clearness of the mortally stricken, he -saw what must be done. - -"Allan, Allan, what is the matter--what shall I do for you?" she mourned -over him. - -"Do this," answered the minister. "Take the cloak out of that cupboard -there. I have never worn it. Go straight to John Allanson. He is my -Ruling Elder. He bides at his daughter's house close by the cotton -mill. Tell him all, and bid him come to me." - -"The dreadful man who was so angry--that day at Lowe's Seat!" she -objected, not fearing for herself, but for him. - -"He is not a dreadful man. Do as I bid you, childie; I am sick, but I -judge not unto death!" - -"But you may die before I return!" - -"Do as I bid you, Elspeth," said the minister, waving her away; "not a -hundred choleras can deprive me of one minute God has appointed mine!" - -She bent over quickly, and kissed him on lips and brow. - -"There--and there! Now if you die, I will die too. Remember that! And -I do not care now. I will go!" - -Saying this, she rushed from the room. - - * * * * * - -It was a strange visitor who came to the house of the Elder's daughter -that evening, as the gloaming fell darker, her feet making no sound on -the deserted and grass-grown streets. - -"A young laddie wants to see you, father," said John Allanson's married -daughter, with whom he had been lodging for a night when the plague -came, in a single hour putting a great gulf between town and country. -Then, finding his minister alone, he was not the man to leave him to -fight the battle single-handed. - -Shamefacedly Elspeth crept in. The old man and his daughter were by -themselves, the husband not yet home from the joiner's shop, where the -hammers went _tap-tap_ at the plain deal coffins all day and all night. - -"The minister is dying--come and help him or he will die!" she cried, as -they sat looking curiously at her in the clear, leaping red of the -firelight. - -"Who are you, laddie?" said the elder. - -"I am no laddie," said Elspeth, redder than the peat ashes. "Oh, I am -shamed--I am shamed! But I could not help it. And I am not sorry! They -told me he was dead. I am Elspeth Stuart, of the Dullarg Manse." - -The elder sat gazing at her, open-mouthed, leaning forward, his hands on -his knees. But his daughter, with the quick sympathy of woman, held out -her arms. - -"My puir lassie!" she said. She had once lost a bairn, her only one. - -And Elspeth wept on her bosom. - -The daughter waved her father to the door with one hand. - -"She will tell me easier!" she said. - -And straightway the old man went out into the dark. - - * * * * * - -It did not take long to tell, with Allan Syme lying so near to the gates -of death. Almost in less time than it needs to write it, Elspeth was -arrayed, so far at least as outer seeming went, in the garments of her -sex. A basket was filled with the necessities which were kept ready for -such an emergency in every house. - -"Come, father," the loving wife cried at the door; "I will tell you as -we gang!" - -And before she had won third way through her story, John Allanson had -taken Elspeth's hand in his. - -"My bairn! my bairn!" he said. - -In this manner Elspeth came the second time to the Manse of Allan Syme. - - * * * * * - -But the third time was as the mistress thereof. For she and the elder's -daughter nursed Allan Syme through into safety. For the very day that -Allan was stricken, a great rain fell and a great wind blew. The birds -came back to the gardens of Cairn Edward, and the plague lifted. In -time, too, Dr. Stuart submitted with severe grace to that which he could -not help. - -"Indeed, it was all my fault, father," Elspeth said; "I made Allan come -back by the stile. I had made up my mind that he should. I knew he -would kiss me there!" - -"Then I can only hope," answered her father, severely, lifting up his -gold-knobbed cane and shaking it at her to emphasise his point, "that by -this time your husband has learned the secret of making you obey him. -It is more than ever your father did!" - - - - - *A SCIENTIFIC SYMPOSIUM* - - -(_Being some Hitherto Unobserved Phenomena of Feminine Psychology from -the notebook of A. McQuhirr, M.D. Edin._) - - -These papers of mine have been getting out of hand of late. I am -informed from various quarters that they are becoming so exceedingly -popular and discursive in their character, that they are enough to ruin -the reputation of any professing man of science. I will therefore be -severe with myself (and, incidentally, with my readers), and occupy one -or two papers with a consideration of some of the minor characteristics -common to the female sex. Indeed, upon a future occasion I may even -devote an entire work to this subject. - -I have mentioned before that my wife's younger sister was called the -"Hempie,"[#] which, being interpreted, signifies a wild girl. This had -certainly been her character at one time; and though she deserves the -name less now than of yore, all her actions are still marked by -conspicuous decision and independence. - - -[#] Some of the earlier and less reputable of the "Hempie's" adventures -may be found in a certain unscientific work entitled "Lad's Love." - - -For instance, the year after Nance and I were married, the Hempie -abruptly claimed her share of her mother's money, and departed to -Edinburgh "to get learning." - -Now it was a common thing enough in our part of the country for boys to -go out on such a quest. It was unheard of in a girl. And the parish -would have been shocked if the emigrant had been any other than the -Hempie. But Miss Elizabeth Chrystie, daughter of Peter of Nether Neuk, -was a young woman not accustomed to be bound by ordinary rules. In -person she had grown up handsome rather than pretty, and was so athletic -that she stood in small need of the ordinary courtesies which girls -love--hands over stiles, and so forth. Eyes and hair of glossy jet, the -latter crisping naturally close to her head, a healthy colour in her -cheeks, an ironic curl to her firm fine lips,--that is how our Hempie -came back to us. - -Of her career in the metropolis, of the boarding-school dames, -strait-laced and awful, whom she scandalised, the shut ways of learning -which somehow were opened before her, I have no room here to tell. It -is sufficient to say that out of all this the Hempie came home to Nether -Neuk, and at once established herself as the wonder of the -neighbourhood. - -Nance was gone, Grace going; Clemmy Kilpatrick, the unobtrusive little -woman whom Peter Chrystie had married as a kind of foot-warmer, had been -laid aside for six weeks with an "income" on her knee. The maidservants -naturally took advantage. Every individual pot and pan in the house -cumbered the back kitchen unwashed and begrimed. In the byres you did -not walk--you waded. The ploughmen hung about the house half the -morning, gossiping with the half-idle maidens. The very herds on the -hill eluded Peter's feeble judicature, and lay asleep behind dyke-backs, -while the week-weaned lambs, with many tail-wagglings, rejoined their -mothers on the pastures far below. - -Upon this confusion enter the New Hempie. And with her gown pinned up -and a white apron on that met behind her shapely figure, she set to and -helped the servants. - -In six days she had the farm town of Nether Neuk in such a state of -perfection as it had not known since my own Nance left it. For Grace, -though a good girl enough, cared not a jot for house work. Her sphere -was the dairy and cheese-room, where in an atmosphere of simmering curds -and bandaged cheddars she reigned supreme. - -So much to indicate to those who are not acquainted with Miss Elizabeth -Chrystie the kind of girl she was. - -For the rest, she despised love and held wooers in contempt, as much as -she had done in the old days when she ascended the roofs of the -pigstyes, and climbed into the beech-tree tops in the courtyard of -Nether Neuk, rather than meet me face to face as I went to pay my court -to her eldest sister. - -"Love----" she said, scornfully, when I questioned her on the subject -the first time she came to see us at Cairn Edward, "_love_--have Nance -and you no got ower sic nonsense yet? _Love_----" (still more -scornfully); "as if I hadna seen as much of that as will serve me for my -lifetime, wi' twa sisters like Grace and Nance there!" - -It did not take us much by surprise, therefore, when one morning, while -we sat at breakfast, the Hempie dropped in with the announcement that -she could not stand her father any longer, and that she had engaged -herself to be governess in the house of a certain Major Randolph Fergus -of Craignesslin. - -To a young lady so determined there was no more to be said. Besides -which, the Hempie was of full age, perfectly independent as far as money -went, and more than independent in character. - -"Now," she said, "I have just fifteen minutes to catch my train: how am -I to get my bag up to the station?" - -"If you wait," I said, "the gig will be round at the door in seven -minutes. I have a case, or I should go up with you myself." - -"Who is driving the gig?" - -"Tad Anderson," said I. - -The Hempie picked up a pair of tan gloves and straightened her tall -lithe figure. - -"Good-morning," she said; "give me a lift with my box and wraps to the -door. I would not trust Tad Anderson to get to the station in time if -he had seven hours to do it in!" - -At the door a boy was passing with a grocer's barrow. The Hempie swung -her box upon it with a deft strong movement. - -"Take that to the station, boy," she commanded, "and tell Muckle Aleck -that Elizabeth Chrystie of the Nether Neuk will be up in ten minutes." - -"But--but," stammered the boy, astonished, "I hae thae parcels to -deliver." - -"Then deliver them on your road down!" said the Hempie. And her right -hand touched the boy's left for an instant. - -"A' richt, mem!" he nodded, and was off. - -"Don't trouble, Alec. Nance, bide where you are--I have three calls to -make on the way up. Good-morning!" - -And the Hempie was off. We watched her through the little oriel window, -Nance nestling against my coat sleeve pleasantly, and, in the shadow of -the red stuff curtain, even surreptitiously kissing my shoulder--a thing -I had often warned her against doing in public. So I reproved her. - -"Nance, mind what you are about, for heaven's sake! Suppose anyone were -to see you. It is enough to ruin my professional reputation to have you -do that on a market day in your own front window." - -"Well, please may I hold your hand?" (Then, piteously, and, if I might -call it so, "Nancefully") "You know I shall not see you all day." - -"The Hempie would not do a thing like that!" I answer, severely. - -Nance watches the supple swing of her sister's figure, from the -stout-soled practical boots to the small erect head, with its short -black curls and smart brown felt hat with the silver buckle at the side. - -"No," she said, "she wouldn't." Then, after a sigh, she added, "Poor -Hempie!" - -That was the last we saw of our sister for more than a year. Elizabeth -Chrystie did not come back even for Grace's marriage to the laird of -Butterhole. - -"I am of more use where I am," she wrote. "Tell Grace I am sending her -an alarm clock!" - -Whether this was sarcasm on the Hempie's part, I am not in a position to -say. Grace had always been the sleepy-head of the family. If, however, -it was meant ironically, the sarcasm was wasted, for Grace was delighted -with the present. - -"It is so useful, you know," the Mistress of Butterhole told Nance. "I -set it every morning for four o'clock. It is so nice to turn over and -know that you do not need to get up till eight!" - - * * * * * - -As suddenly as she had gone away, so suddenly the Hempie returned, -giving reasons to no man. I am obliged to say that even I would never -have known the true story of the adventures which follows had I not -shamefully played the eavesdropper. - -It happened this way. - -My study, where I try upon occasion to do a little original work and -keep myself from dropping into the rut of the pill-and-potion -practitioner so common in rural districts, is next the little room where -Nance sits reading, or sewing at the garmentry, white and mysterious, -which some women seem never to be able to let out of their reach. Here I -have a small wall-press, in which I keep my microscopes and -preparations. It is divided by a single board from a similar one -belonging to Nance on the other side. When both doors are open you can -hear as well in one room as in the other. I often converse with Nance -without rising, chiefly as to how long it will be till dinner-time, -together with similar important and soul-elevating subjects. But it -never seems to strike her that I can hear as easily what is said in her -room when I am not expected to hear. - -Now, if you are an observant man, you have noticed, I daresay, that so -soon as women are alone together, they begin to talk quite differently -from what they have done when they had reason to know of your masculine -presence. Yes, it is true--especially true of your nearest and dearest. -Men do something of the same kind when women go out after dinner. But -quite otherwise. A man becomes at once broader and louder, more -unrestrained in quotation, allusion, illustration, more direct in -application. His vocabulary expands. In anecdote he is more abounding -and in voice altogether more natural. But with women it is not so. -They do not look blankly at the tablecloth or toy with the stem of a -wineglass, as men do when the other sex vanishes. They glance at each -other. A gentle smile glimmers from face to face, in which is a world -of irony and comprehension. It says, "They are gone--the poor -creatures. We can't quite do without them; but oh, are they not funny -things?" Then they exchange sighs equally gentle. If you listen -closely you can hear a little subdued rustle. That is the chairs being -moved gently forward nearer each other--not dragged, mark you, as a man -would do. A man has no proper respect for a carpet. - -"Well, dear----?" - -"Well?" - -And then they begin really to talk. They have only "conversed" so far. -How do I know all this? Well, that's telling. As I say, I eavesdropped -part of it--in the interests of science. But the facts are true, in -every case. - -The Hempie came in one Saturday morning. It was in August, and a -glorious day. There was nothing pressing. I had been out early at the -only case which needed to be seen to till I went on my afternoon round. - -Nance was upstairs giving a wholly supererogatory attention to a certain -young gentleman who had already one statutory slave to anticipate his -wants. He was getting ready to be carried into the garden. I could -detect signs from the basement that cook also was tending nursery-wards. -The shrine would have its full complement of devout worshippers shortly. - -It was thus that I came to be the first to welcome the Hempie upon her -return. She opened the glass door and walked in without ceremony, -putting her umbrella in the rack and hanging her hat on a peg like a -man, not bringing them in to cumber a bedroom as a woman does. These -minor differences of habit in the sexes have never been properly -collated and worked out. As I said before, I think I must write a book -on the subject. - -At any rate, the Hempie's action was the exception which proved the -rule. - -Then she strolled nonchalantly into my study and flung herself into a -chair without shaking hands. I leaped to my feet. - -"Hempie," I cried, "I am dreadfully glad to see you." And I stooped to -kiss her. - -To my utter astonishment she took the salute as a matter of course, a -thing she had never done before. Yes, somehow the Hempie was startlingly -different. - -"What," she said, "are you as glad as all that? What a loving brother!" - -But I think she was pleased all the same. - -"Where's Nance?" The question was shot out rather than asked. - -I indicated the upper regions of the house with my thumb, and inclined -my ear to direct her attention. - -A high voice of wonderful tone and compass (if a little thin) was lifted -up in a decimating howl. Ensued a gentle confused murmur: "_Didums, -then? Was it, then?_" together with various lucid observations of that -kind. - -A change passed over the Hempie's face. - -"Now we are in for it," I thought. "She will leave the house and never -enter it again. The Hempie hates babies. She has always been -particularly clear on that point." - -"_Why_ did you never tell me, Alec?" - -"Because--because--we thought you would not care to hear. I understood -you didn't like----" - -"Is it a boy or a girl?" - -"Boy." - -There was a sudden uprising from the depths of the easy-chair, a rustle -of skirts, the clang of a door, hasty footsteps on the stairs, a clamour -of voices from which, after a kind of confused climax as the hope of the -house blared his woes like a young bull of Bashan, there finally emerged -the following remarkable sentiments:-- - -"Oh, the darling! Isn't he a _pet_? Give him to me. Was they bad to -him? Then--well then! They shan't--no, indeed they shan't! Now, then! -Didums, then!" - -And _da capo_. - -I could not believe my ears. The words were the words of Nance, but the -voice was undoubtedly the voice of the Hempie. It was half an hour and -more before they descended the stairs, the Hempie still carrying young -"Bull of Bashan," now pacifically sucking his thumb and gazing serenely -through and behind his nurse in the disconcerting way which is common to -infants of the human species--and cats. - -The Hempie passed out across the little strip of garden we had at the -back. The sunlight checkered the grass, and the new nurse carried her -charge as if she had never done anything else all her life. Every -moment she would stop to coo at him. Then she would duck her head like -a turtle-dove bowing to his mate; and finally, as if taken by some -strange contortive disease, she would bend her neck suddenly and nuzzle -her whole face into the child's, as a pet pony does into your hand--a -hot, fatiguing, and wholly unscientific proceeding on an August day. - -I called Nance back on pretext of matters domestic. - -"What's the matter with the Hempie?" I said. - -"Matter with the Hempie?" repeated Nance, trying vainly to look blank. -"Why, what should be the matter with the Hempie?" - -"Don't try that on with me, you little fraud. There _is_ something! -What is it?" - -"I have not the least idea." - -"Have you kissed her?" - -"No, she never looked at me--only at the baby, _of course_." - -"Then go and kiss her." - -Nance went off obediently, and the sisters walked a while together. -Presently the baby took the red thumb out of his mouth, and through the -orifice thus created issued a bellow. The nurse came running. Nance -took him in her arms, replaced the thumb, and all was well. Then she -handed him back to the Hempie and kissed her as she did so. The Hempie -raised her head into position naturally, like one well accustomed to the -operation. - -Nance came slowly back and rejoined me. She was unusually thoughtful. - -"Well?" I said. - -She nodded gravely and shook her head. - -"It _is_ true," she murmured, as if convinced against her will; "there -is something. She is different." - -"Nance," said I, triumphantly, for I was pleased with myself, "the -Hempie is in love at last. You must find out all about it and tell me." - -She looked at me scornfully. - -"I will do no such thing----" she began. - -"It is not curiosity--as you seem to think," I remarked with dignity. -"It is entirely in the interests of science," I said. - -"Rats!" cried Nance, rudely. - -As I have had occasion to remark more than once before, she does not -show that deference to her husband to which his sterling worth and many -merits entitle him. Indeed, few wives do--if any. - -"Well, I will find out for myself," I said, carelessly. - -"_You!_" - -Scorn, derision, challenge were never more briefly expressed. - -"Yes, I." - -"I'll wager you a new riding-whip out of my house money that you don't -find out anything about it!" - -"Done!" said I. - -For I remembered about the little wall-press where I kept my microscope. -Not that I am by nature an eavesdropper; but, after all, a scientific -purpose--and a new riding-whip, make some difference. - -I was busy mounting my slides when I heard them come in. Instantly I -needed some Canada balsam out of the wall-press--in the interests of -science. I heard Nance go to the door to listen "if baby was asleep." -I have often represented to her that she does not require to do this, -because the instant baby is awake he advertises the fact to the whole -neighbourhood, as effectually as if he had been specially designed with -a steam whistle attachment for the purpose. But I have never succeeded. - -"You think you are a doctor, Alec," is the answer, "but you know nothing -about babies! You know you don't!" - -Which shows that I must have spent a considerable part of my medical -curriculum in vain. - -There ensued the soft muffled hush of chairs being pushed into the -window. Then came the first _click-click, jiggity-click_ of a -rocking-chair, which Nance had bought for me "when you are tired, -dear"--and has used ever since herself. I did not regret this, for it -left the deep-seated chintz-covered one free. They are useless things, -anyway: a man cannot go to sleep on a rocking-chair, or strike a match -under the seat, or stand on it to put up a picture--or, in fact, do any -of the things for which chairs are really designed. - -Now when a woman goes to sleep in a chair, she always wakes up cross. -All that stuff in romances about kissing the beloved awake in the dear -old rose-scented parlour, and about the lids rising sweetly from off -loving and happy eyes, is, scientifically considered, pure nonsense. -Believe me, if she greets you that way the lady has not been asleep at -all, and was waiting for you to do it. - -But when she, on the other hand, wakes with a start and opens her eyes -so promptly that you step back quickly (having had experience); when she -speaks words like these, "Alec, I have a great mind to give you a sound -box on the ear--coming waking me up like that, when you know I didn't -have more than an hour's good sleep last night!"--this is the genuine -article. The lady was asleep that time. The other kind may be pretty -enough to read about, but that is its only merit. - -It was Nance who spoke first. I heard her drop the scissors and stoop -to pick them up. I also gathered from the tone of her first words that -she had a pin in her mouth. Yet she goes into a fit if baby tries to -imitate her, and wonders where he can learn such habits. This also is -incomprehensible. - -"Have you left Craignesslin for good?" said Nance, using a foolish -expression for which I have often reproved her. - -"I am going back," said the Hempie. I am not so well acquainted with -the _nuances_ of the Hempie's voice and habit as I am with those of her -sister, but I should say that she was leaning back in her chair with her -hands clasped behind her head, and staring contentedly out at the -window. - -"I thought perhaps the death of the old major would make a difference to -you," said Nance. I knew by the mumbling sound that she was biting a -thread. - -"It does make a difference," said the Hempie, dreamily, "and it will -make a greater difference before all be done!" - -Nance was silent for a while. I knew she was hurt at her sister's lack -of communicativeness. The rocking-chair was suddenly hitched sideways, -and the stroking rose from fifty in the minute to about sixty or -sixty-five, according, as it were, to the pressure on the boiler. - -Still the Hempie did not speak a word. - -The rocking-chair was doing a good seventy now--but it was a spurt, and -could not last. - -"Elizabeth," said Nance, suddenly, "I did not think you could be so -mean. I never behaved like this to you." - -"No?" said the Hempie, with serene interrogation, but did not move, so -far as I could make out. The rocking-chair ceased. There was a pause, -painful even to me in my little den. The strain on the other side of -the wall must have been enormous. - -When Nance spoke it was in a curiously altered voice. It sounded even -pleading. I wish the Hempie would teach me her secret. - -"Who is it?--tell me, Hempie," said Nance, softly. - -I did not catch the answer, though obviously one was given. But the -next moment I heard the unbalanced clatter of the abandoned rocker, and -then Nance's voice saying: "No, it is impossible!" - -Apparently it was not, however, for presently I heard the sound of more -than one kiss, and I knew that my dear Mistress Impulsive had her sister -in her arms. - -"Then you know all about it now, Hempie?" - -"All about what?" - -"Don't pretend,--about love. You do love him very much, don't you?" - -"I don't know. I have never told him so!" - -"Hempie!" - -"It is true, Nance!" - -"Then why have you come home?" - -"To get married!" said the Hempie, calmly. - - - - - *THE HEMPIE'S LOVE STORY* - - -This is the somewhat remarkable story the Hempie told my wife as she sat -sewing in the little parlour overlooking the garden, the day Master -Alexander McQuhirr, Tertius, cut his first tooth.[#] - - -[#] This, however, was not discovered till afterwards, and was then -acclaimed as the reason why he cried so much on the arrival of his aunt -Elizabeth. To his nearest relative on the father's side, however, the -young gentleman's performances seemed entirely normal.--A. McQ. - - -Elizabeth Chrystie was a free-spoken young woman, and she told her tale -generally in the English of the schools, but sometimes in the plain -countryside talk she had spoken when, a barefoot bare-legged lass, she -had scrieved the hills, the companion of every questing collie and -scapegrace herd lad, 'twixt the Bennan and the Butt o' Benerick. - -"When I first got to Craignesslin," said the Hempie, "I thought I had -better turn me about and come right back again. And if it had not been -for pride, that is just what I should have done." - -"Were they not kind to you?" asked Nance. - -"Kind? Oh, kind enough--it was not that. I could easily have put an -end to any unkindness by walking over the hill. But I could not. To -tell the truth, the place took hold of me from the first hour. - -"Craignesslin, you know, is a great house, with many of the rooms -unoccupied, sitting high up on the hills, a place where all the winds -blow, and where the trees are mostly scrubby scrunts of thorn, turning -up their branches like skeleton hands asking for alms, or shrivelled -birches and cowering firs all bent away from the west. - -"When first I saw the place I thought that I could never bide there a -day--and now it looks as if I were going to live there all my life. - -"The hired man from the livery stables in Drumfern set my box down on -the step of the front door, and drove off as fast as he could. He had a -long way before him, he said, the first five miles with not so much as a -cottage by the wayside. He meant a public-house. - -"He was a rude boor. And when I told him so he only laughed and said: -'For a' that ye'll maybe be glad to see me the next time I come--even if -I bring a hearse for ye to ride to the kirkyaird in!' - -"And with that he cracked his whip and drove out of sight. I was left -alone on the doorstep of the old House of Craignesslin. I looked up at -the small windows set deep in the walls. Above one of them I made out -the date 1658, and over the door were carven the letters W.F. - -"Then I minded the tales my father used to tell in the winter -forenights, of Wicked Wat Fergus of Craignesslin, how he used to rise -from his bed and blow his horn and ride off to the Whig-hunting with Lag -and Heughan, how he kept a tally on his bed-post of the men he had slain -on the moors, making a bigger notch all the way round for such as were -preachers. - -"And while I was thinking all this, I stood knocking for admission. I -could not hear a living thing move about the place. The bell would not -ring. At the first touch the brass pull came away in my hands, and hung -by the wire almost to the ground. - -"Yet there was something pleasant about the place too, and if it had not -been for the uncanny silence, I would have liked it well enough. The -hills ran steeply up on both sides, brown with heather on the dryer -knolls, and the bogs yellow and green with bracken and moss. The sheep -wandered everywhere, creeping white against the hill-breast or standing -black against the skyline. The whaups cried far and near. Snipe -whinnied up in the lift. Magpies shot from thorn-bush to thorn-bush, -and in the rose-bush by the door-cheek a goldfinch had built her nest. - -"Still no one answered my knocking, and at last I opened the door and -went in. The door closed of its own accord behind me, and I found -myself in a great hall with tapestries all round, dim and rough, the -bright colours tarnished with age and damp. There were suits of armour -on the wall, old leathern coats, broad-swords basket-hiked and -tasselled, not made into trophies, but depending from nails as if they -might be needed the next moment. Two ancient saddles hung on huge pins, -one on either side of the antique eight-day clock, which ticked on and -on with a solemn sound in that still place. - -"I did not see a single thing of modern sort anywhere except an empty -tin which had held McDowall's Sheep Dip. - -"Nance, you cannot think how that simple thing reassured me. I opened -the door again and pulled my box within. Then I turned into the first -room on the right. I could see the doors of several other rooms, but -they were all dark and looked cavernous and threatening as the mouths of -cannon. - -"But the room to the right was bright and filled with the sunshine from -end to end, though the furniture was old, the huge chairs uncovered and -polished only by use, and the great oak table in the centre hacked and -chipped. From the window I could see an oblong of hillside with sheep -coming and going upon it. I opened the lattice and looked out. There -came from somewhere far underneath, the scent of bees and honeycombs. I -began to grow lonesome and eerie. Yet somehow I dared not for the life -of me explore further. - -"It was a strange feeling to have in the daytime, and you know, Nance, I -used to go up to the muir or down past the kirkyaird at any hour of the -night. - -"I did not take off my things. I did not sit down, though there were -many chairs, all of plain oak, massive and ancient, standing about at -all sorts of angles. One had been overturned by the great empty -fireplace, and a man's worn riding-glove lay beside it. - -"So I stood by the mantelpiece, wondering idly if this could be Major -Fergus's glove, and what scuffle there had been in this strange place to -overturn that heavy chair, when I heard a stirring somewhere in the -house. It was a curious shuffling tread, halting and slow. A faint -tinkling sound accompanied it, like nothing in the world so much as the -old glass chandelier in the room at Nether Neuk, when we danced in the -parlour above. - -"The sound of that shuffling tread came nearer, and I grew so terrified, -that I think if I had been sure that the way to the door was clear, I -should have bolted there and then. But just at that moment I heard the -foot trip. There was a muffled sound as of someone falling forward. The -jingling sound became momentarily louder than ever, to which succeeded a -rasping and a fumbling. Something or someone had tripped over my box, -and was now examining it in a blind way. - -"I stood turned to stone, with one hand on the cold mantelpiece and the -other on my heart to still the painful beating. - -"Then I heard the shuffling coming nearer again, and presently the door -lurched forward violently. It did not open as an intelligent being -would have opened a door. The passage was gloomy without, and at first -I saw nothing. But in a moment, out of the darkness, there emerged the -face and figure of an old woman. She wore a white cap or 'mutch,' and -had a broad and perfectly dead-white face. Her eyes also were white--or -rather the colour of china ware--as though she had turned them up in -agony and had never been able to get them back again. At her waist -dangled a bundle of keys; and that was the reason of the faint musical -tinkling I had heard. She was muttering rapidly to herself in an -undertone as she shuffled forward. She felt with her hands till she -touched the great oaken table in the centre. - -"As soon as she had done so, she turned towards the window, and with a -much brisker step she went towards it. I think she felt the fresh -breeze blow in from the heather. Her groping hand went through the -little hinged lattice I had opened. She started back. - -"'Who has opened the window?' she said. 'Surely he has not been here! -Perhaps he has escaped! Walter--Walter Fergus--come oot!' she cried. -'Ah, I see you, you are under the table!' - -"And with surprising activity the blind old woman bent down and -scrambled under the table. She ran hither and thither like a cat after a -mouse, beating the floor with her hands and colliding with the legs of -the table as she did so. - -"Once as she passed she rolled a wall-white eye up at me. Nance, I -declare it was as if the week-old dead had looked at you! - -"Then she darted back to the door, opened it, and with her fingers to -her mouth, whistled shrilly. A great surly-looking dog of a brown -colour lumbered in. - -"'Here, Lagwine, he's lost. Seek him, Lagwine! Seek him, Lagwine!' - -"And now, indeed, I thought, 'Bess Chrystie, your last hour is come.' -But though the dog must have scented me--nay, though he passed me within -a foot, his nose down as if on a hot trail--he never so much as glanced -in my direction, but took round the room over the tumbled chairs, and -with a dreadful bay, ran out at the door. The old woman followed him, -but most unfortunately (or, as it might be, fortunately) at that moment -my foot slipped from the fender, and she turned upon me with a sharp -cry. - -"'Lagwine, Lagwine, he is here! He is here!' she cried. - -"And still on all fours, like a beast, she rushed across the floor -straight at me. She laid her hand on my shoe, and, as it were, ran up -me like a cat, till her skinny hands fastened themselves about my -throat. Then I gave a great cry and fainted. - - * * * * * - -"At least, I must have done so, for when I came to myself a young man -was bending over me, with a white and anxious face. He had on velveteen -knickerbockers, and a jacket with a strap round the waist. - -"'Where is that dreadful old woman?' I cried, for I was still in mortal -terror." - -"_I_ should have died," said Nance. And from the sound of her voice I -judged that she had given up the attempt to continue her seam in order -to listen to the Hempie's tale, which not the most remarkable exposition -of scientific truth on my part could induce her to do for a moment. - -"'It's all my fault--all my fault for not being at home to meet the -trap,' I heard him murmur, as I sank vaguely back again into -semi-unconsciousness. When I opened my eyes I found myself in a -pleasant room, with modern furniture and engravings on the wall of the -'Death of Nelson' and 'Washington crossing the Delaware.' - -"As soon as I could speak I asked where I was, and if the horrible old -woman with the white eyes would come back. The young man did not answer -me directly, but called out over his shoulder, 'Mother, she is coming -to.' - -"And the next moment a placid, comfortable-looking lady entered, with -the air of one who has just left the room for a moment. - -"'My poor lassie,' she said, bending over me, 'this is a rough -home-coming you have got to the house of Craignesslin. But when you are -better I will tell you all. You are not fit to hear it now.' - -"But I sat up and protested that I was--that I must hear it all at once, -and be done with it." - -"Of course," cried Nance, "you felt that you could not stay unless you -knew. And I would not have stopped another minute--not if they had -brought down the Angel Gabriel to explain." - -"Not if Alec had been there?" queried the Hempie, smiling. - -"Alec!" cried Nance, in great contempt. "Indeed, if Alec had been in -such a place, I would have made Alec come away inside of three -minutes--yes, and take me with him if he had to carry me out on his -back! Stop there for Alec's sake? No fear!" - -That is the way my married wife speaks of me behind my back. But, so -far as I can see, there is no legal remedy. - -"Go on, Hempie; you are dreadfully slow." - -"So," continued the Hempie, placidly, "the nice matronly woman bade me -lie down on a sofa, and put lavender-water on my head. She petted me as -if I had been a baby, and I lay there curiously content--me, Elizabeth -Chrystie, that never before let man or woman lay a hand on me----" - -"Exactly," said Nance; "was he very nice-looking?" - -"Who?" - -"The young man in the velveteen suit, of course." - -"I don't know what you mean." - -"I mean, was he better-looking than Alec?" - -"Better-looking than Alec? Why, of course, Alec isn't a bit----" - -"_Hempie!_" - -There was a pause, and then, to relieve the strain, the Hempie laughed. -"Are you never going to get over it, Nance?" - -"Get on with your story, and be sensible." I could hear a thread bitten -through. - -"So the lady began to talk to me in a quiet hushed tone, like a minister -beside a sick bed. She told me how some years ago her poor husband, -Major Fergus, had hart a dreadful accident. He was not only disfigured, -but the shock had affected his brain. - -"'At first,' she said, 'we thought of sending him to an asylum, but we -could not find one exactly suited to his case. Besides which, his old -nurse, Betty Hearseman, who had always had great influence with him, was -wild to be allowed to look after him. She is not quite right in the -head herself, but most faithful and kind. She cried out night and day -that they were abusing him in the asylum. So at last he was brought -here and placed in the old wing of the house, into which you penetrated -by misadventure to-day.' - -"'But the dog?' I asked; 'do they hunt the patient with a fierce dog -like that?' - -"'Ah, poor Lagwine,' she sighed, 'he is devoted to his old master. He -would not hurt a hair of his head or of anybody's head. Only sometimes, -when he finds the door open, my poor Roger will slip out, and then -nobody else can find him on these weariful hills.' - -"Then I asked her of the younger children whom I had been engaged to -teach. - -"'They are my grandchildren,' she said; 'you can hear them upstairs.' - -"And through the clamour of voices, that of the young man I had seen -rang loudest of all. - -"'They are playing with their father?' I said. - -"She shook her head. 'They are the children of my daughter Isobel,' she -said. 'She married Captain Fergus, of the Engineers, her own cousin, -and died on her way out to the West Indies. So Algernon brought them -home, and here they are settled on us. And what with my husband's -wastefulness before he was laid aside, and the poor rents of the hill -farms nowadays, I know not what we shall do. Indeed, if it were not for -my dear son Harry we could not live. He takes care of everything, and -is most scrupulous and saving.' - -"So when she had told me all this, I lay still and thought. And the -lady's hand went slower and slower across my head till it ceased -altogether. - -"'I cannot expect you to remain with us after this, Miss Chrystie,' she -said, 'and yet I know not what I shall do without you. I think we -should have loved one another.' - -"I told her that I was not going away--that I was not afraid at all. - -"'But, to tell you the truth, my dear,' she said, 'I do not rightly see -where your wages are to come from.' - -"'That does not matter in the least, if I like the place in other ways,' -I said to her." - -"He must be _very_ good-looking!" interjected Nance. - -"So I told her I would like to see the children. She went up to call -them, and presently down they came--a girl of six and a little boy of -four. They had been having a rough-and-tumble, and their hair was all -about their faces. So in a little we were great friends. They went up -to the nursery with their grandmother, and I was following more slowly, -when all at once, Harry--I mean the young man--came hurrying in, -carrying a tray. He had an apron tied about him, and the bottom hem of -it was tucked into the string at the waist. As soon as he saw me he -blushed, and nearly dropped the tray he was carrying. I think he -expected me to laugh, but I did not----" - -"Of course not," coincided Nance, with decision. - -"I just opened the top drawer in the sideboard and took out the cloth -and spread it, while he stood with the tray still in his arms, not -knowing, in his surprise, what to do with it. - -"'I thought you had gone upstairs with my mother,' he said. 'Old John -Hearseman is out on the hill with the lambs, and we have no other -servants except the children's little nurse.' - -"And so--and so," said the Hempie, falteringly, "that is how it began." - -I could hear a little scuffle--which, being interpreted, meant that -Nance had dropped her workbasket and sewing on the floor in a heap and -had clasped her sister in her arms. - -"Darling, cry all you want to!" My heart would know that tone through -six feet of kirkyard mould--aye, and leap to answer it. - -"I am not crying--I don't want to cry." It was the Hempie's voice, but -I had never heard it sound like that before. Then it took a stronger -tone, with little pauses where the tears were wiped away. - -"And I found out that night from the children how good he was--how -helpful and strong. He had to be out before break of day on the hills -after the sheep. Often, with a game-bag over his shoulder, he would -bring in all that there was for next day's dinner. Then when Betsy, the -small maid, was busy with his mother, he would bath Algie and Madge, and -put them to bed. For Mrs. Fergus, though a kind woman in her way, had -been accustomed all her life to be waited on, and accepted everything -from her son's hands without so much as 'Thank you.' - -"So I did not say a word, but got up early next morning and went -downstairs. And what do you think I found that blessed Harry -doing--_blacking my boots_!" - -There was again a sound like kissing and quiet crying, though I cannot -for the life of me tell why there should have been. Perhaps the women -who read this will know. And then the Hempie's voice began again, -striving after its kind to be master of itself. - -"So, of course, what could I do when his father died? He and I were -with him night and day. For Betty Hearseman being blind could not -handle him at all, and Harry's mother was of no use. Indeed, we did not -say anything to alarm her till the very last morning. No, I cannot tell -even you, Nance what it was like. But we came through it together. That -is all." - -Nance had not gone back to her sewing. So I could not make out what was -her next question. It was spoken too near the Hempie's ear. But I heard -the answer plainly enough. - -"A month next Wednesday was what we thought of. It ought to be soon, -for the children's sake, poor little things." - -"Oh, yes," echoed Nance, meaningly, "for the children's sake, of -course." - -The Hempie ignored the tone of this remark. - -"Harry is having the house done up. The old part is to be made into a -kitchen. Old John and Betty Hearseman are to have a cottage down the -glen." - -"And you are to be all alone," cried Nance, clapping her hands, "with -only the old lady to look after. That will be like playing at house." - -"Yes," said the Hempie, ironically, "it would--without the playing. Oh -no, I am going to have a pair of decent moorland lasses to train to my -ways, and Harry will have a first-rate herd to help him on the hill." - -Then she laughed a little, very low, to herself. - -"The best of it is that he still thinks I am poor," she said. "I have -never told him about mother's money, and I mean to ask father to give me -as much as he gave you and Grace." - -"Of course," said Nance, promptly. "I'll come up and help you to make -him." - -There was a cheerful prospect in front of Mr. Peter Chrystie, of Nether -Neuk, if he did not put his hand in his breeches' pocket to some -purpose. - -"Will Alec let you come?" queried the Hempie, doubtfully. "He will miss -you." - -"Oh, I'll tell him it is for the sake of baby's health," said Nance; -"and, besides, husbands are all the better for being left alone -occasionally. They are so nice when they get you back again." - -"What!" cried the Hempie, "you don't mean to say that Alec has fits of -temper? I never would have believed it of him." - -"Hush!" said Nance. There was again that irritating whispered converse, -from which emerged the Hempie's clear voice: - -"Oh, but my Harry will never be like that." - -"Wait--only wait," said Nance. "Hempie, they are all alike. And -besides, they write you such nice letters when they are away. I suppose -you get one every day? Yes, of course. What, he walks six miles over -the hill to post it? That is nice of him. Alec once came all the way -from Edinburgh, and went back the next day, just because he thought I -was cross with him----" - -"Oh, but my Harry never, never----" - -(Left speaking.) - - - - - *THE LITTLE FAIR MAN.* - - *I.--SEED SOWN BY THE WAYSIDE* - - -Notable among my father's papers was one bundle quite by itself which he -had always looked upon with peculiar veneration. The manuscripts which -composed it were written in crabbed handwriting on ancient paper, very -much creased at the folds, and bearing the marks of diligent perusal in -days past. My father could not read these, but had much reverence for -them because of the great names which could be deciphered here and -there, such as "Mr. D. Dickson," "Mr. G. Gillespie," and in especial -"Mr. Samuel Rutherfurd." - -How these came into the possession of my father's forbears, I have no -information. They were always known in the family as "Peden's Papers," -though so far as I can now make out, that celebrated Covenanter had -nothing to do with them--or, at least, is never mentioned in them by -name. On the other hand I find from the family Bible, written as a note -over against the entry of my great-grandmother's death, "Aprile the -seventeene, 1731," the words, "Cozin to Mr. Patrick Walker, chapman, of -Bristo Port, Edinburgh." - -The letters and narratives are in many hands and vary considerably in -date, some being as early as the high days of Presbytery, about 1638, -whilst others in a plainer hand have manifestly been copied or rewritten -in the first decade of last century. - -Now after I came from college and before my marriage, I had sometimes -long forenights with little to do. So having got some insight into -ancient handwriting from my friend Mr. James Robb, of the College of -Saint Mary, an expert in the same--a good golfer also, and a better -fellow--I set me to work to decipher these manuscripts both for my own -satisfaction and for the further pleasure of reading them to my father -on Saturday nights, when I was in the habit of driving over to see my -mother at Drumquhat on my way from visiting my patients in the Glen of -Kells. - -That which follows is from the first of these documents which I read to -my father. He was so much taken by it that he begged me to publish it, -as he said, "as a corrective to the sinful compliances and shameless -defections of the times." And though I am little sanguine of any good -it may do from a high ecclesiastic point of view, the facts narrated are -interesting enough in themselves. The manuscript is clearly written out -in a tall copy-book of stout bluish paper, without ruled lines, and is -bound in a kind of grey sheepskin. The name "Harry Wedderburn" is upon -the cover here and there, and within is a definitive title in floreated -capitals, very ornately inscribed: - -[Illustration: Inscription] - -"The Story of the Turning of me, Harry Wedderburn, from Darkness to -Light, by the means and instrument of Mr. Samuel Rutherfurd of Anwoth, -Servant of God." - - -Then the manuscript proceeds:-- - -"The Lord hath spared me, Harry Wedderburn, these many years, delaying -the setting of my sun till once more the grass grows green where I saw -the blood lie red, and I wait in patience to lay my old head beneath the -sod of a quiet land. - -"This is my story writ at the instance of good Mr. Patrick Walker, and -to be ready at his next coming into our parts. The slack between hay -and harvest of the Year of Deliverance, 1689, is the time of writing. - -"I, Harry Wedderburn, of Black Craig of Dee, in the country of Galloway, -acknowledging the mercies of God, and repenting of my sins, set these -things down in my own hand of write. Sorrow and shame are in my heart -that my sun was so high in the heavens before I turned me from evil to -seek after good. - -"We were a wild and froward set in those days in the backlands of the -Kells. It was not long, indeed, since the coming of a law stronger than -that of the Strong Hand. Our fathers had driven the cattle from the -English border--yea, even out of the fat fields of Niddisdale, and over -the flowe of Solway. And if a man were offended with another, he went -his straightest way home and took gun and whinger to lie in wait for his -enemy. Or he met him foot to foot with staff on the highway, if he were -of ungentle heart and possessed neither pistol nor musketoon. - -"I mind well that year 1636, more than fifty years bygone--I being then -in the twenty-second year of my age, a runagate castaway loon, without -God and without hope in the world. My father had been in his day a -douce sober man, yet he could do little to restrain myself or my brother -John, who was, they said, 'ten waurs' than I. For there was a wild set -in the Glen of Kells in those days, Lidderdale of Slogarie and Roaring -Raif Pringle of Kirkchrist being enough to poison a parish. We four -used to forgather to drink the dark out and the light in, two or three -times in the week at the change house of the Clachan. Elspeth Vogie -keeped it, and no good name it got among those well-affected to -religion--aye, or Elspeth herself either. - -"But these are vain thoughts, and I have had of a long season no -pleasure in them. Yet will I not deny that Elspeth Vogie, though in -some things sore left to herself, was a heartsome quean and -well-favoured of her person. - -"So at Elspeth's some half-dozen of us were drinking down the short dark -hours of an August night. It was now the lull between the hay-winning -and the corn-shearing. For hairst was late that year, and the weather -mostly backward and dour. There had come, however, with the advent of -the new month, a warm drowsy spell of windless days, the sun shining -from morn to even through a kind of unwholesome mist, and the corn -standing on the knowes with as little motion as the grey whinstane -tourocks and granite cairns on the hilltaps. The farmers and cottiers -looked at their scanty roods of ploughland, and prayed for a rousing -wind from the Lord to winnow away the still dead easterly mist, and gar -the corn reestle ear against ear so that it might fill and ripen for the -ingathering. - -"But we that were hand-fasted to sin and bonded to iniquity, young -plants of wrath, ill-doers and forlorn of grace, cared as little for the -backward year as we did for the sad state of Scotland and the strifes -that were quickly coming upon that land. So long as our pint-stoup was -filled, and plack rattled on plack in the pouch, sorrow the crack of the -thumb we cared for harvest or sheep-shearing, king or bishop, Bible or -incense-pot. - -"To us sitting thus on the Sabbath morning (when it had better set us to -have been sleeping in our naked beds) there came in one Rab Aitkin of -Auchengask, likeminded with us. Rab was seeking his 'morning' or -eye-opening draught of French brandy, and to us bleared and leaden-eyed -roisterers, he seemed to come fresh as the dew on the white thorn in the -front of May. For he had a clean sark upon him, a lace ruffle about his -neck, and his hair was still wet with the good well water in which he -had lately washen himself. - -"'Whither away, Rab?' we cried; 'is it to visit fair Meg o' the Glen so -early i' the mornin'?' - -"'He is on his way to holy kirk!' cried another, daffingly. - -"'If so--'tis to stand all day on the stool of repentance!' declared -another. Then in the precentors whining voice he added: 'Robert Aitkin, -deleted and discerned to compear at both diets of worship for the -heinous crime of--and so forth!' This was an excellent imitation of the -official method of summoning a culprit to stand his rebuke. It was -Patie Robb of Ironmannoch who said this. And this same Patie had had -the best opportunities for perfecting himself in the exercise, having -stood the session and received the open rebuke on three several -occasions--two of them in one twelve-month, which is counted a shame -even among shameless men. - -"'No, Patie,' said Rab in answer, 'I am indeed heading for the kirk, but -on no siccan gowk's errand as takes you there twice in the year, my man. -I go to hear the Gospel preached. For there is to be a stranger frae -the south shore at the Kirk of Kells this day, and they say he has a -mighty power of words; and though ye scoff and make light o' me, I care -not. I am neither kirk-goer nor kirk-lover, ye say. True, but there is -a whisper in my heart that sends me there this day. I thank ye, bonny -mistress!' - -"He took the pint-stoup, and with a bow of his head and an inclination -of his body, he did his service to Mistress Elspeth. For that lady, -looking fresh as himself, had just come forth from her chamber to -relieve Jean McCalmont, who, poor thing, had been going to sleep on her -feet for many weary hours. - -"Then Roaring Raif Pringle cried out, 'Lads, we will a' gang. I had -news yestreen of this ploy. The new Bishop, good luck to him, has outed -another of the high-flying prating cushion-threshers. This man goes to -Edinburgh to be tried before his betters. He is to preach in Kells this -very morn on the bygoing, for the minister thereof is likeminded with -himself. We will all gang, and if he gets a hearin' for his rebel's -cant--why, lads, you are not the men I tak you for!' - -"So they cried out, 'Weel said, Roaring Raif!' and got them ready to go -as best they could. For some were red of face and some were ringed of -eye, and all were touched with a kind of disgust for the roysterous -spirit of the night. But a dabble in the chill water of the spring and -a rub of the rough-spun towel brought us mostly to some decent -presentableness. For youth easily recovers itself while it lasts, -though in the latter end it pays for such things twice over. - -"We partook of as mickle breakfast as we could manage, and that was no -great thing after such a night. But we each drank down a stirrup-cup -and with various good-speeds to Elspeth Vogie and Jean her maid, we wan -to horseback and so down the strath to the Kirk of Kells. It sits on the -summit of a little knowe with the whin golden about it at all times of -the year, and the loch like a painted sheet spread below. - -"We could see the folk come flocking from far and near, from their -mailings and forty-shilling lands, their farm-towns and cot-houses in -half-a-dozen parishes. - -"'We are in luck's way, lads,' cried Lidderdale, called Ten-tass -Lidderdale because he could drink that number of stoups of brandy neat; -'it is a great gathering of the godly. Lads, the shutting of this man's -mouth will make such a din as will be heard of through all Galloway!' - -"And so to our shame and my sorrow we made it up. We were to go the -rounds of the meeting, and gather together all the likely lads who would -stand with us. There were sure to be plenty such who had no goodwill to -preachings. And with these in one place we could easily shut the mouth -of this fanatic railer against law and order. For so in our ignorance -and folly we called him. Because all this sort (such as I myself was -then) hated the very name of religion, and hoped to find things easier -and better for them when the king should have his way, and when the -bishops would present none to parishes but what we called 'good -fellows'--by which we meant men as careless of principle as -ourselves--loose-livers and oath-swearers, such as in truth they mostly -were themselves. - -"But when we arrived that August morning at the Kirk of Kells, lo! there -before us was outspread such a sight as my eyes never beheld. The Kirk -Knowe was fairly black with folk. A little way off you could see them -pouring inward in bands like the spokes of a wheel. Further off yet, -black dots straggled down hill sides, or up through glens, disentangling -themselves from clumps of birches and scurry thorns for all the world -like the ants of the wise king gathering home from their travels. - -"Then we were very well content and made it our business to go among the -gay young blades who had come for the excitement, or, as it might be, -because all the pretty lasses of the countryside were sure to be there -in their best. And with them we arranged that we should keep silence -till the fanatic minister was well under way with his treasonable -paries. Then we would rush in with our swords drawn, carry him off down -the steep and duck him for a traitorous loon in the loch beneath. - -"To this we all assented and shook hands upon the pact. For we knew -right sickerly what would be our fate, if in the battle which was coming -on the land, the Covenant men won the day. Perforce we must subscribe to -deeds and religious engagements, attend kirks twice a day, lay aside gay -colours, forswear all pleasant daffing with such as Elspeth Vogie and -Jean her maid (not that there was anything wrong in my own practice with -such--I speak only of others). The merry clatter of dice would be heard -no more. The cartes themselves, the knowledge of which then made the -gentleman, would be looked upon as the 'deil's picture-books.' A good -broad oath would mean a fine as broad. Instead of chanting loose -catches we should have to listen to sermons five hours long, and be -whipt for all the little pleasing transgressions that made life worth -living. - -"So 'Hush,' we said--'we will salt this preacher's kail for him. We -will drill him, wand-hand and working-hand, so that he cannot stir. We -will make him drink his fill of Kells Loch this day!' - -"All this while we knew not so much as the name of the preacher--nor, -indeed, cared. He came from the south, so much we knew, and he had a -great repute for godliness and what the broad-bonnets called -'faithfulness,' which, being interpreted, signified that he condemned -the king and the bishops, and held to the old dull figments about -doctrine, free grace, and the authority of Holy Kirk. - -"The man had not arrived when we reached the Kirk of Kells. Indeed, it -was not long before the hour of service when up the lochside we saw a -cavalcade approach. Then we were angry. For, as we said, 'This spoils -our sport. These are doubtless soldiers of the king who have been sent -to put a stop to the meeting. We shall have no chance this day. Our -coin is spun and fallen edgewise between the stones. Let us go home!' - -"But I said: 'There may be some spirity work for all that, lads. Better -bide and see!' - -"So they abode according to my word. - -"But when they came near we could see that these were no soldiers of the -king, nor, indeed, any soldiers at all, though the men were armed with -whingers and pistolets, and rode upon strong slow-footed horses like -farmers going to market. There was a gentleman at the head of them, -very tall and stout, whom Roaring Raif, in an undertone, pointed out as -Gordon of Earlstoun, and in the midst, the centre of the company, rode a -little fair man, shilpit and delicate, whom all deferred to, clad in -black like a minister. He rode a long-tailed sheltie like one well -accustomed to the exercise and bore about with him the die-stamp of a -gentleman. - -"This was the preacher, and these other riders were mostly his -parishioners, come to convoy him through the dangerous and ill-affected -districts to the great Popish and Prelatic city of Aberdeen, where for -the time being he was to be interned. - -"Then Roaring Raif whispered amongst us that we had better have our -swords easy in the sheath and our pistols primed, for that these men in -the hodden grey would certainly fight briskly for their minister. - -"'Gordon of Cardoness is there also,' he said, 'a stout angry carle. -Him in the drab is Muckle Ninian Mure of Cassencarry. Beyond is Ugly -Peter of Rusco, and that's Bailie Fullerton o' Kirkcudbright, the man -wi' the wame swaggin' and the bell-mouthed musket across his saddle-bow. -There will be a rare tulzie, lads. This is indeed worth leavin' -Elspeth's fireside for. We will let oot some true blue Covenant bluid -this holy day!' - -"And when the Little Fair Man dismounted there was a rush of the folk -and some deray. But we of the other faction kept in the back part and -bided our time. - -"Then the Little Fair Man went up into the pulpit, which was a box on -great broad, creaking, ungreased wheels, which they had brought out from -the burial tool-house as soon as they saw that the mighty concourse -could in no wise be contained in the kirk--no, not so much as a tenth -part of them! - -"After that there was a great hush which lasted at least a minute as the -minister kneeled down with his head in his hands. Then at last he rose -up and gave out the psalm to be sung. It was the one about the -Israelites hanging their harps on the trees of Babylon. And I mind that -he prefaced it with several pithy sayings which I remembered long -afterwards, though I paid little heed to them at the time. 'This tree -of Babylon is a strange plant,' he said; 'it grows only in those -backsides of deserts where Moses found it, or by Babel streams where men -walk in sorrow and exile. It is an ever-burning bush, yet no man hath -seen the ashes of it.' - -"Then the people sang with a great voice, far-swelling, triumphant, and -the Little Fair Man led them in a kind of ecstasy. I do not mind much -about his prayer. I was no judge of prayers in those days. All I cared -about them was that they should not be too long and so keep me standing -in one position. But I can recall of him that he inclined his face all -the time he was speaking towards the sky, as if Someone Up There had -been looking down upon him. At that I looked also, following the -direction of his eyes. And so did several others, but could see -nothing. But I think it was not so with the Little Fair Man. - -"Now it was not till the sermon was well begun that we were to break in -and 'skail' the conventicle with our swords in our hands. I could hear -Lidderdale behind me murmuring, 'How much longer are we to listen to -this treason-monger?' - -"'Let us give him five minutes by the watch lads!' I said, 'the same as -a man that is to be hanged hath before the topsman turns him off. And -after that I am with you.' - -"Then Roaring Raif said in my ear, 'We have them in the hollow of our -hand. This will be a great day in the Kells. We will put the broad -bonnets to rout, so that no one of them after this shall be able to show -face upon the causeway of Dumfries. There are at least fifty staunch -lads, good honest swearing blades, in and about the kirkyard of Kells -this day!' - -"For even so we delighted to call ourselves in our ignorance and -headstrong folly--as the Buik sayeth, glorying in our shame. - -"And according to my word we waited five minutes on the minister. He -had that day a text that I will always mind, 'God is our refuge and our -strength,' from the 46th Psalm--one that was ever afterwards a great -favourite with me. And when at first he began, I thought not muckle -about what he said, but only of the great ploy and bloody fray that was -before me. For we rejoiced in suchlike, and called it among ourselves a -'bloodletting of the whey-faced knaves!' - -"Then the Little Fair Man began to warm to his work, and just when the -five minutes drew on to their end, he was telling of a certain Friend -that he had, One that loved him, and had been constantly with him for -years--so that his married wife was not so near and dear. This Friend -had delivered him, he said, from perils of great waters, and from the -edge of the sword. He had also put up with all the evil things he had -done to Him. Ofttimes he had cast this Friend off and buffeted Him, but -even then He would not go away from him or leave him desolate. - -"So, as I had never heard of such strange friendship, I was in a great -sweat to find out who this Friend might be, so different from the -comrades I knew, who drew their swords at a word and gave buffet for -buffet as quick as drawing a breath. - -"So I whispered again, 'Give him another five minutes!' - -"And I could hear them growl behind me, Tam Morra of the Shields, called -Partan-face Tam, Glaikit Gib Morrison, and the others--'What for are ye -waitin'? Let the grey-breeks hae it noo!' - -"But since I was by much the strongest there, and in a manner the -leader, they did not dare to counter me, fearing that I might give them -'strength-o'-airm' as I did once in the vennel of Dumfries to Mathew -Aird when he withstood me in the matter of Bonny Betty Coupland--a -rencontre which was little to my credit from any point of view. - -"And then the Little Fair Man threw himself into a rapture like a man -going out of the body, and his voice sounded somehow uncanny and of the -other world. For there was a 'scraich' in it like the snow-wind among -the naked trees of the wood at midnight. Yet for all it was not -unpleasant, but only eery and very affecting to the heart. - -"He told us how that he had shamed and grieved his Friend, how he had -oftentimes wounded Him sore, and once even crucified Him---- - -"Then when he said that I knew what the man was driving at, and if I had -been left to myself I would have fallen away and thought no more of the -matter. But at that moment, with a sudden calm, there fell a hush over -the people. They seemed to be waiting for something. Then the Little -Fair Man leaned out of the pulpit and stretched his arm toward me, where -I stood like Saul, taller by a head than any about me. - -"'There is a great strong young man there,' he said, 'standing by the -pillar, that hitherto has used his strength for the service of the -devil, but from this forward he shall use it for the Lord. Even now he -is plotting mischief. He, too, hath wounded my Friend, even Jesus -Christ, and smitten Him on the cheekbone. But to-day he shall stand in -the breach and fight for Him. Young man, I bid you come forward!' - -"And with that he continued, pointing at me with his finger a little -crooked. At first I was angry, and could have made his chafts ring with -my neive had I been near enough. But presently something uprose in my -heart--great, and terrible, and melting all at once. I took a step -forward. But my companions held me back. I could feel Lidderdale and -Roaring Raif with each a hand on a coat tail. - -"'Harry,' they said, 'do not mind him--cry the word and we will fall on -and pull the wizard down by the heels!' - -"'Come hither!' said the Little Fair Man again, in a stronger voice of -command. 'Come up hither, friend. Thou didst come to this place to do -evil; but the Spirit hath thee now by the head, though well do I see -that a pair of black deils have thee yet by the tail. Come hither, -friend, resist not the Spirit!' - -"Then there arose a mighty flame in my heart, the like of which I never -felt before. It was a very gale of the Spirit--a breaking down of dams -that imprisoned waters might flow free. And before I knew what I did I -took my hand and dealt a buffet right and left, so that Roaring Raif -roared amain. And as for Jock Lidderdale, I know not what became of -him, for they carried him over the heads of the crowd and laid him under -a tree to come to himself again. - -"'Thou shalt know a Friend to-day, young man,' the minister said, when, -being thus enlarged, I came near. 'Thou shall be the firstfruits to the -Lord in the Kells this day. There is to be a great ingathering of -sheaves here, though some of them shall yet have bloody shocks. But -thou, young sir, shalt be the first of all and shalt stand the longest!' - -"Then on the outskirts of the crowd there arose a mighty turmoil. For -all those that had been of my party made a rush forward, that they might -rescue me from what they thought was rank witchcraft. - -"'Overturn! Overturn!' they cried, 'ding doon the wizard! He hath -bewitched "Harry Strength-o'-Airm"! Fight, Harry--for thine own hand, -and we will rescue thee!' - -"And so ardent was their onset that they had well-nigh opened a way to -where the Little Fair Man stood, as unmoved and smiling as if he had -been sitting in his own manse. So great became the crowd that the very -preaching-box rocked. The men of the cavalcade drew their swords and met -the assailants hand to hand. In another minute there had been -bloodshed. - -"But by some strange providence there came into my hand the pole of a -burying bier, whereon men bear coffins to the kirkyard. I know not how -it came there, unless, peradventure, they had used it to roll out the -preaching-box. But, in any case, it made a goodly and a gruesome -weapon. - -"Then the Spirit of the Lord came upon me, and I shouted aloud: 'I am on -the Little Fair Man's side--and on the side of his Friend! Peace! -Peace!' - -"And with that I laid about me as the Lord gave me strength, and I heard -more than one sword snap, and more than one head crack. - -"Then, again, I cried louder than before: 'Let there be peace--and God -help ye if ye come in Harry Wedderburn's road this day--all ye that are -set on mischief!' - -"And lo! by means of the bier-pole, a way was opened, a large and an -effectual, before me; and, like Samson, I smote and smote, and stayed -not, till I was weary. For none could stand against me, and such as -could, ran out to their horses. But the most part of them, I, with my -grave-pole, caused to remain--that they, too, might be turned to the -Lord by the Word of the preacher. - -"So they came back, and I bade the Little Fair Man preach to them, while -I kept guard. And at that he smiled and said: 'Did I not say that thou -also shouldst be a soldier of God? Thine arm this day hath been indeed -an arm of flesh. But thou shalt yet wield in thy time the sword of the -Spirit, which is the word of God!' And of a truth, there was a great -work and an effectual that day in the Kells. For they say that more -than four score turned them from their evil way, and many of these -blessed me thereafter for the breaking of their heads--yes, even upon -their dying beds. - -"Now I have myself backslidden since that, but have not altogether -fallen away or shamed my first love. And when the cavalcade rode away -up the muir road, I heard them tell that the Little Fair Man, who had -called me out of my heady folly, was no other than the famous Mr. Samuel -Rutherfurd, minister of Anwoth, on his way to his place of exile in -Aberdeen, for conscience sake. - -"That these things are verity I vouch for with my soul. The truth is -thus, neither less nor more. Which is the testimony of me, Harry -Wedderburn, written in this year of Grace and a freed Israel, 1689." - - - - - *THE LITTLE FAIR MAN* - - - *II.--THE HUMBLING OF STRENGTH-O'-AIRM* - - -_The continuation of the Adventure of Mr. Harry Wedderburn, called -"Strength-o'-Airm" written by himself, and transcribed by Alexander -McQuhirr, M.D._ - - -"All this fell out exceeding well, and the fact was much bruited abroad -throughout all the southland of Galloway, how that with the tram of a -bier I convertit thirty-three men, in and about the kirkyaird of Kells, -in one day. But (what was not so good) the first man that I brak the -head of was Roaring Raif Pringle of Kirkchrist--and, I was engaged in -the bands of affection with his sister Rachel, expecting indeed to wed -her with the first falling of the leaf. - -"Now Roaring Raif was so worshipfully smitten on the pate, that before -he could sit up to hearken to the voice of the Little Fair Man, Mr. -Rutherfurd had ridden northwards on his way and all his folk with him. -Now when at last Raif sat up and drew his hand across his brow he asked -who had done this, and when they told him that it was his friend Harry -Wedderburn of the Black Craig who had broke his own familiar head with -the tram of the dead bier, who but Raif Pringle was a wild man, and -swore in his unhallowed wrath to shoot me if ever I came anigh the house -of Kirkchrist, either to see his sister or for any other purpose! - -"Now I was not anxious about Rachel herself. I knew that when it came to -the point, she cared not a doit either for Roaring Raif or for Slee Todd -Pringle, her cunning father. She was a fell clever lass, and had always -been a great toast among us--though continually urging me to forswear -sitting drinking at the wine with wild runagates in public places and -change houses, if I hoped to stand well in her favour. But once, having -been with her and Roaring Raif at Dumfries, it was my good fortune to -carry her across the ford at Holywood when Nith Water was rising fast, -and since that day somehow she had always thought better than well of -me. For we left the Roaring One on the Dumfries shore. - -"'I will go over and bring him hither on my back,' said I. And would -have plunged in again to do it. For I thought nothing of perils of -waters, being tall and a good swimmer to boot. But this Rachel would in -no wise permit. She caught me by the arm and would not let me go back. - -"''Deed will you do somewhat less, Harry Wedderburn; if Raif thinks so -little of his sister as to convoy her home disguised in liquor, e'en let -him stand there on the shore, or else take his way home by the Brig of -Dumfries!' - -"And this I was very content to do, delivering Rachel into the hands of -her uncle, Lancelot Pringle of Quarrelwood, in due time--but a longer -time mayhap than in ordinary circumstances it takes to traverse the -distance between the fords of Holywood over against Netherholm and the -mansion house of Quarrelwood. For the pleasure that I had in carrying -of Rachel Pringle through the water had gone to my head some little, and -I was perhaps not so clear about my way as I might have been. - -"So, minding me on that heartsome and memorable night, together with -other things more recent, I was not perhaps very anxious about the -affection of Rachel Pringle. For I thought that it would take more than -the word of Roaring Raif to change the heart of that little Rachel whom -I had carried in my arms over the swellings of Nith Water. I minded me -how tight she had held to me, and how, when we got over, she whispered -in my ear, before I set her down, 'Harry, I like strong men!' Which -saying somewhat delayed my putting of her down, for the ground grew -exceedingly boggy and unstable just at that spot. - -"So, on the evening of the day after I had forsaken my ill courses at -the bidding of the Little Fair Man, I set out from the onsteading of -Black Craig of Dee, leaving all there in the keeping of my brother John, -a stark upstanding lad, and in those of Gilbert Grier, my chief hired -herd. I told them not where I was going, but I think they knew well -enough. For John brought me my father's broadsword, which he had -sharpened instead of my own smaller whinger, and Gib the herd took the -pistols out of my belt and saw to their priming anew. They were always -very loyal and sib to my heart, these two, and sped me on my love -adventures without a word. - -"Now the turn or twist that I gat at the outdoor service before the Kirk -of Kells was strange enough. It may seem that the conduct of a man can -only be turned by the application of reason or argument. But it was not -so with me. The Little Fair Man crooked his finger and said: 'Come!' -and I came. So also was it with the others who were convertit that day, -aided maybe somewhat by my black quarter-staff. But I have since read -in the Book that even so did Mr. Rutherfurd's Friend, when on the shores -of the sea He called to Him his disciples. 'Come!' He said to the -fishermen, and forthwith they left all and followed Him. - -"Now my call did not cause me to follow the Little Fair Man. It was not -of such a sort. He did not bid me to that of it. But those who have -been my neighbours will bear me witness that I never was the same man -again, but through many shortcomings and much warring of the flesh -against the spirit, have ever sought after better things, during all the -fifty-and-one years since that day. - -"So out I set on my road to Kirkchrist with a rose in my coat, the -covenanted work of reformation in my heart--and my pistols primed. I -knew it would need all three to win bonny Rachel Pringle out of the hand -of the Slee Tod and his son Raif, the Roaring One. - -"Now Kirkchrist is one of the farm-towns of Galloway, many of which in -the old days have been set like fortilices high on every defenced hill. -Indeed, the ancient tower still stands at one angle of the square of -houses, where it is used for a peat-shed. But by an outside stair it is -possible to get on the roof and view the country for miles round. On -one side the Cooran burn runs down a deep ravine full of hazel copses -feathering to the meadow-edges, where big bumble bees have their bykes, -and where I first courted Rachel, sitting behind a cole of hay on the -great day of the meadow ingathering. On the other three sides the -approach to Kirkchrist is as bare as the palm of my hand, all short -springy turf, with not so much as a daisy on it, grazed over by Slee -Tod's sheep, and cast up in places by conies, whose white tails are for -ever to be seen bunting about here and there among the warreny braes. - -"Now somehow it never struck me that Roaring Raif would bear malice. -What mattered a broken head that he should take offence at his ancient -friend? Had I not had my own sconce broke a score of times, and ever -loved the breaker better, practising away with John and Gib till I could -break his for him in return? Why not thus Raif Pringle? It was true -that he had gotten an uncouth clour from the bier-tram of Kells, but I -was willing to give him his revenge any day in the week--and, for my -part, bore no malice. - -"So in this frame of mind I strolled up towards Kirkchrist, when the -reek of the peat fires was just beginning to go up into a still heaven -from the cot-house in the dell, and the good cottier wives were putting -on their pots to make their Four-Hours. I was at peace with all the -world, for since the Kirk of Kells there had been a marvellous -lightening of my spirit. - -"Rachel is yonder, I thought within me, as I went up the hillside -towards the low four-square homestead of Kirkchrist. Her hand will be -laying the peat and blowing up the kindling. She will be looking out -for me somewhere, most likely at yonder window in the gable end. - -"Yes, so she was. For as I came in view of the yard gate I saw a white -thing waved vehemently, and then suddenly withdrawn. - -"'Dear lass,' I thought, 'she is watching; and thinks thus to bid me -welcome. She has doubtless made my peace with the Roaring One.' - -"And I smiled within myself, like a vain fool, well-content and secure. - -"Also I quickened my steps a little, so that I might arrive in time for -the meal, being hunger-sharpened with my travel, and having out of -expectance and forgetfulness taken but little nooning provender with me -from the Black Craig of Dee. - -"I watched the window eagerly, as I came nearer, for another glint of -the kerchief. But not the beck of a head or the flutter of a little -hand intimated that one of the bonniest lasses in Galloway was waiting -within. Yet it struck me as strange that there were no clamorous dogs -about, or indeed any sound of life whatever. And ever and anon I seemed -to hear my name called, but yet, when I stopped and listened, all was -still again on the moment. - -"Now the entrance into the courtyard or inner square of Kirkchrist was -by a 'yett' or strong gate, closed when any raiders or doubtful -characters were in the neighbourhood, as well as in the night season. -But now this 'yett' stood wide open, and I could see the yellow straw in -the yard all freshly spread, the stray ears yet upon it--which last, -together with the empty look of the crofts, told me that the oats had -been gathered in that day. Where, then, were the men who had done the -work? It was a thing unheard of that they should depart without making -merry in the house-place, and drinking of the home-brewed ale, laced -with a tass of brandy to each tankard. - -"The sun was low behind my back, and I was looking towards the onstead -of Kirkchrist, when suddenly I saw something glisten in one of the -little three-cornered wicket-windows of the barn. It was bright, and -shone like polished metal--a steel pistol stock belike. But, -nevertheless, I went on in the same dead, uncanny silence. - -"Suddenly '_Blaff! Blaff! Blaff!_' Three or four shots went off in -front of me and to the right. I heard the smooth hissing sound of lead -bullets and the whistle of slugs. Something struck me on the muscle of -the forearm, stunning me like a blow, then I felt a kind of ragged tear -or searing of the flesh as with a hot iron. I cannot describe it -better--not very painful at first, but rather angering, and inclining -me, but for my recent conversion, to stamp and swear like a king's -trooper. - -"This, however, I had small time to do, even if I had wished it; for, -after one glance at the barn, through the three-cornered wicks of which, -as through the portholes of a ship in action, white wreaths of the smoke -of gunpowder were curling, my right arm fell to my side, and I turned to -run. Even as I did so, a little cloud of men--perhaps -half-a-dozen--came rushing out of the mickle 'yett' with a loud shout, -and made for me across the level sward. Foremost of them was Roaring -Raif. Then I was advertised indeed that he had not forgiven the clour -on the head he had gotten. I knew him by his height and by the white -clout that was bound like a mutch about his brows. - -"'Harry,' said I to myself, when I saw them thus take after me, 'the -Black Craig will never see you more. Ye are as a dead man. You cannot -run far with that arm draining the life from you, and there is no -shelter within miles.' - -"Then I heard the brainge of breaking glass behind me, and a voice: 'The -linn--the linn, Harry Wedderburn; flee to the linn! It is your only -chance. They are mad to kill you, Harry!' - -"And even then I was glad to hear the voice of my lass, for to know that -her heart and her prayers were with me. So I turned at the word, and -ran redwud for the Linn of Kirkchrist--a wild steep place, all cliffs -and screes and slithery spouts of broken slate. I felt my strength fast -leaving me as I ran, and ever the enemy shouted nearer to my back. - -"'Kill him! Shoot him! Put a bullet into him!' - -"Wondrous stimulating I found such remarks as these, made a hundred or -two yards to leeward, with an occasional pistol bullet whistling by to -mark the sense, as in a printed book. This made me run as I think I -never ran before. For, though I was a changed man, I did not want to -die and go straight to that Abraham's bosom, of which the Little Fair -Man had spoken as one that had lain there of a long season. I did not -surmise that the accommodation would suit me so well. No, not yet -awhile, with Rachel Pringle praying for my life half-a-mile behind. So -I ran and better ran, till the sweat of my brow ran into my eyes and -well nigh blinded me. Now in those days I was very young and limber. -And I am none so stiff yet for my age. - -"At all events, when I came to the taking off of the linn I saw that -there was nothing for it but my callant's monkey trick of letting myself -down like a wheel. I had often practised it on the heathery slopes of -the Black Craig of Dee, so I caught myself behind the knees, and, with -my head bent like a hoop, flung myself over the edge. Presently I felt -myself tearing through the copses and plunging into little darksome -dells. I rebounded from tree trunks and bruised myself against rocks. -Stones I had started span whizzing about my ears, and I heard the risp -and rattle of shot fired after me from the margin of the linn. My -wounded arm seemed as if drawn from its socket. Then I felt the cool -plash of water, and I knew no more. - -"I might very well have been drowned in Kirkchrist Linn that day, but it -had not been to be. For it so chanced that I fell into the deepest pool -for miles, and was carried downwards by the strongest current into the -place that is now called the 'Harry's Jaws.' This is a darksome spot, -half-cavern, half-bridge, under the gloomy arch of which the brown -peat-water foams white as fresh-poured ale, and the noise of its -thundering deafens the ear. When I came to myself I was lying half out -of the water and half in, on the verge of a great fall where the burn -takes a leap thirty or forty feet into a black pool. I looked over, and -there beneath me, with one of my own pistols in his hand, was Roaring -Raif, a terrifying sight, with his bloody clout all awry about his head. -He was looking at the pistol, dripping wet as it had gone over the fall -when I came down like a runaway cart wheel into the Linn of Kirkchrist. - -"'He's farther doon the water, boys,' I heard him cry, and the sound was -sweet to my ear. 'Here's the pistol he has left behint him! Scatter, -boys, and a braw sheltie to the man that first puts an ounce o' lead -into him!' - -"A pleasant forgiving nature had this same Roaring One. And I resolved -that, though a converted man, I would deal with him accordingly when I -gat him into my clutches. - -"The place where I found me was not uncommodious. To make the most of -it I crawled backwards till I came to the end of the rocks. Here was a -little strip of sand, and over that a dry recess almost large enough for -a cave. Some light filtered in from unseen crevices above, so that I -think it was not roofed with solid rock overhead. Rather it was some -falling in of the sides of the linn which had made the hiding-place. -Here I was safe enough so long as the burn did not rise suddenly, for I -knew well from the 'glet' on the stones and the bits of stick and dried -rushes that the waters of the linn filled all the interior in time of -flood. - -"Then I made what shift I could to bind up my arm. I was already faint -from loss of blood, but I bound a band tight about my upper arm, -twisting it with a stick till I almost cried out with the greatness of -the pain. Then I tied a rag, torn from my shirt, about the wound -itself, which turned out to be in the fleshy part, very red and angry. -However, it had bled freely, which, though it made me faint at the time, -together with the washing in the water of the linn, was probably the -saving of me. There was a soft fanning air as the night drew on, and, -in my wet clothes, I shivered, now hot, now cold. My head was throbbing -and over-full; and I began to see strange lights about me as the cave -alternately grew wide and high as the firmament, and anon contracted to -the size of a hazel-nut. That was the little touch of fever which always -comes after a gunshot wound. - -"So after a while fell the darkness, or, rather, if there had not been a -full moon, the darkness would have fallen. But, being thirsty with my -wound, I crawled down to the water's edge and bent my head to drink, -with the drumming of the fall loud in my ears. And, lo! in the pool I -saw the round of the moon reflected. I was at the mouth of the little -cave, and there, to the north, the Plough hung as from a nail in the -August sky, while a little higher I saw one prong of silvery -Cassiopeia's broken-legged 'W.' - -"The stars looked so remote and lonesome, so safe and careless up there. -They minded so little that I was wounded and helpless, that if I had not -been a changed man, I declare I could have cursed them in my heart. - -"But suddenly from above came a sound that made all my heart beat and -quiver. It was a woman's cry. All you who have never heard how soft a -woman can make her speech when she fears for her true man's life, take -this word. There is no sound so sweet, so low, so far-searching in the -world. - -"'Harry! Harry Wedderburn!' it said. And I knew that in the midnight -Rachel Pringle was searching and calling for me. Though there might be -danger, I could not bear that she should pass away from me. - -"'I am here,' I answered as softly as I could. But the noise of the -waterfall drowned my voice, though my ears, grown accustomed to the -roar, had caught hers easily enough. - -"So, steadying me on the crutch of a tree that grew perilously over the -fall, I went out and stood in the full light of the moon, taking my life -in my hand if it had so chanced that any of my enemies were in ambush -round about. - -"Rachel saw me instantly, and I could see her clasp her hands over her -heart as she stood on the margin of the cleuch, black against the indigo -sky of night. - -"'Harry--Harry Wedderburn!' - -"'Here--dear love--here! By the waterfall.' - -"In an instant she was flying down the slope, having lifted her skirt, -and, as we say, 'kilted' it, so that she might go the lighter. She wore -a white gown, and I could see her flit like a moth through the covert of -birk and hazel to the water-edge. In another moment, without stopping -either for direction or to draw breath, she was coming towards me, her -face to the precipice, swiftly, fearlessly, clinging to the little -ragged rock-rifts, from which scarce a wind-wafted seed would grow or a -tuft of gilly-flower protrude about which to clasp her fingers. But -Rachel Pringle came as lightly and easily as if she had been ascending -the steps of her father's ha'. - -"'Go back,' she whispered, 'go back, dear love! They may see you. I am -coming--I know the way!' - -"And with that I stepped back out of the moonlight, obedient to her -word. Yet I stood near enough to the wall of the cliff to reach my arm -over for her to take, so that she might have something to hold by during -the last and most difficult steps of the goats' path, the roaring linn -being above, the pool deep and black below. - -"Now, either by chance or because it was the one which could reach -farthest, I tendered Rachel my wounded arm, and as soon as she clasped -my hand so rude a stound ran up my wrist that it seemed as though I had -been pierced through and through with a hot iron. So when at last -Rachel leaped lightly upon the wet rock, I was ready to droop like a -blown windlestrae in a December gale into her arms--yes, I, that was the -strong man, called Strength-o'-Airm, laid my head on her shoulder, and -she drew me within the shelter of the cave's mouth, crooning over me as -wood doves do to their mates, and whispering soft words to me as a -mother doth to a bairn that hath fallen down and hurt itself. - -"But in a little the stound of pain passed away, what with the happiness -of her coming, the plash of the nearer waters, and the coolness of the -night winds which blew to and fro in our refuge place as through a -tunnel. - -"Then Rachel told me that she had run from the house while they were all -searching for me everywhere. Roaring Raif and his brother Peter, -together with Gib Maxwell of Slagnaw, Paul Riddick of the Glen, and -Black-Browed Macclellane of Gregorie, Will of Overlaw, and Lancelot -Lindesay, the tutor of Rascarrel--as bloodthirsty a crew as ever raked -the brimstony by-roads of hell. - -"Very well I knew that if they lighted on us together there was no hope -for me. But Rachel allayed my fear a little by telling me that she did -not believe that any in the house knew of the cave beneath the tumble of -rocks save only herself. It had long been her custom to seek it for -quiet, when the Roaring One brought his crew about the house of -Kirkchrist, and none had ever tracked her thither. - -"So she examined my wound in the light of the moon, which shone in at -one end as we sat on the inmost crutch of the tree. Now Rachel had much -skill in wounds, for, indeed, her house was never free of them, her -brothers, Peter and the Roaring One, never both being skin-whole at the -same time. And so, with a handsbreadth torn from her white underskirt, -she bathed and bandaged the wound, telling me for my comfort that the -shot appeared to have gone through the fleshy part without lodging, so -that most likely the wound would come together sweetly and heal by the -first intention. - -"Then, after this was done, we arrived at our first difference. For -Rachel vowed that she would in no wise go back to the onstead of -Kirkchrist, but would stop and nurse me here in the linn; which thing, -indeed, would have been mightily pleasant to the natural man. But, -being mindful of that which the Little Fair Man had said, and also of -the censorious clatter of the countryside, I judged this to be -impossible, and told Rachel so; who, in her turn, received it by no -means with meekness, but rose and stamped her little foot, and said that -she would go and never return--that she was sorry to her heart she had -ever come where she was so little thought of, with many other speeches -of that kind, such as spirity maids use when they are affronted and in -danger of not getting their own sweet way with the men of their hearts. - -"Now it went sore against the grain thus to deal with Rachel. And yet I -could think of no way of appeasing her, but to feign a dwalm of -faintness and pain from my wound. So when I staggered and appeared to -hold myself up by the rock with difficulty, she stayed in the full flood -of her reproaches, and faltered, 'What is the matter, Harry?' - -"Then, because I made no answer, she kneeled down beside me, and, taking -my head in both of her hands, she kissed my brow. - -"'I did not mean it--indeed, I did not, Harry,' she said, with that -delicious contrition which at all times sat so well on her--even after -we were married, which is a strange thing and very uncommon. - -"So I touched her cheek with my fingers and forgave her, as a man who -has been in the wrong forgives a loving woman who has not. (There is -ever a touch of superiority in a man's forgiving--in a woman's there is -only love and the desire for peace). - -"'Then I may stay with you?' she said. - -"And I will not deny but she tempted me sore. - -"But swift as the sunbeam that strikes from cloud to hilltop, a thought -came to me. - -"'Listen to me, Rachel,' I said. 'At the break of day or thereby all -will be quiet. The Roaring One and his crew will be snoring in bed----' - -"'Or on the floor,' said Rachel, with a quick and dainty sniff of -distaste. - -"'Either will suffice,' I said. 'Then will we go down and call up the -minister. We will cause him to marry us, and then we will fear neither -traitor nor slanderer.' - -"'But he will not!' she cried. 'Donald Bain is a bishop's hireling, -and, besides, our Raif's boon companion.' - -"Then I drew my dirk and held it aloft, so that the moonlight ran like -molten silver down the blade. - -"'See,' said I, 'dear Rachel, if this does not gar the curate of -Kirkchrist marry us to a galloping tune, Harry Wedderburn kens not the -breed, that is all.' - -"'Content!' said she. 'I will do what you say, Harry; only I will not -go back to Kirkchrist nor will I part from you now when I have gotten -you.' - -"Which thing I was most glad to hear from her fair and loving lips. And -I thought, smilingly, that Rachel's manner of speaking these words -became her very well. - -"So there in the din of the water-cavern and under the wheeling shafts -of silver light as the moon swung overhead, we two abode well content, -waiting for the dawn. - -"And so, in this manner, and for all my brave words, the witch got her -way." - -_But how--we shall see._ - - - - - *THE LITTLE FAIR MAN* - - *III.--THE CURATE OF KIRKCHRIST* - - -"The manse of Kirkchrist parish was less than a mile down the glen. It -had only a week or two before been taken possession of by one Donald -Bain, an ignorant fellow, so they said, intruded upon us by the new -bishop. For Mr. Gilbert, our old and tried minister and servant of God, -had been removed, even as Mr. Rutherfurd had been put out of Anwoth, and -at about the same time. - -"Thither, then, we took our way, my dear betrothed and I, with my -wounded arm carried across me, the sleeve being pinned to my coat front -so that I could not move my hand. - -"We kept entirely to the thickets by the waterside, Rachel leading the -way. For she had played all her life at the game which had now become -earnest and deadly. But we need not have troubled. For as we went, -from far away, light as a waft of wind blown athwart a meadow, we heard -the chorus of the roisterers in the house of Kirkchrist, and emergent -from the servile ruck, the voice of her brother, the Roaring One, urging -good fellows all to 'come drink with him.' Somewhat superfluously, -indeed, to all appearance, for the good fellows all had apparently been -'come-drink-ing' all night to the best of their ability and -opportunities. - -"After this Rae and I went a little more openly and swiftly. This -chiefly for my sake, because the uneven ground and the little branches -of the hazel bushes caught and whipped my wounded arm, making me more -than once to wince with the pain. - -"And Rachel kept a little beneath me on the brae, and bade me lean my -well hand on her shoulder, saying that I could not press over-hard, and -that the more I did so, the more would she know that I loved her. In -this not unpleasing fashion we came to the house of the curate that had -so lately been intruded upon the manse of godly Mr. Gilbert. - -"The place was all dark, and the shutters put over the windows for fear -of shots from without. Then with my sword hilt I began to knock, and the -noise of the blows resounded through the house hollow and loud. For the -Highlandman had as yet put little furniture into it, save as they said a -sheave or two of rushes for a bed for himself, and another for the wench -that keeped house to him--his sister, as he averred. - -"In no long space of time his reverence set a shock head out of the -window to ask what was the din. The which he did in a bold manner, as -though he were the lord and master of the neighbourhood. But I tamed -him, for I bade him do his curate's coat upon him, and bring his service -book, for that he was to marry two people there and then. - -"'Who be you that seek to be married so untimeous?' he asked. 'Cannot -ye be content till the morning?' - -"'That is just why we cannot be content,' I answered; 'we must be far -away by then!' - -"So in a little he rose up grumbling and came down. - -"'Have you not also a maid in the house?' I asked of him. - -"'Aye,' said he, very dried like, 'my sister Jean!' - -"'Bid her rise. We have need of a witness!' I bade him. - -"'And I, of someone to hold the candle!' he added. - -"It was about four of the clock, and the east little more than greying, -as we four stood in front of the manse of Kirkchrist. Had any been -abroad to see us we had seemed a curious company. The curate in his -white gown and black bands, his shambling nightgear peeping out above -and under--a red peaked nightcap on his head, the tassel of which nodded -continually over his right eye in a most ludicrous manner (only that -none thought of mirth that night). Beside him, a dripping candle in her -hand, stood his sister, a buxom quean, blowsed with health and ruddy as -the cherry. - -"Before these two I stood, 'a black towering hulk with one arm in a -sling' (Rachel's words), and beside me, my sweet bride, dainty and light -as a butterfly at poise on a flower's lip. - -"Overhead among the trees the wind began to move, blowing thin and chill -before the dawn. And even as the curate thumbed and mumbled beneath the -flicker of the candle, I saw the light break behind the Black Craig of -Dee, and wondered if ever Rae and I should dwell in peace and content in -the lee of it. - -"And because neither Rachel nor I knew that form of words, Jean Bain -kept us right, prompting us how to kneel here, and what to answer there, -here to say our names over, and there promise to love each other--the -last not necessary, for if we had not done that already, we had hardly -been at the manse of Kirkchrist at four of the August morning in order -to be wed by an alien and uncovenanted priest. - -"But scarcely had the blessing of Donald Bain made us man and wife, when -we heard the roysterers' chorus again abroad on the hills, and Jean Bain -came rushing upon us wild with alarm. She guessed well enough who we -were. For the searchers had been at the manse the night before swearing -to have my life. - -"'Flee,' she said; 'take to the heather for your lives. They have sworn -to kill your husband!' - -"This I knew well enough; but the perversity of fate which at that time -clung to me, made me ready to faint. - -"'I cannot go--I am dizzy with my wound!' I said, and would have fallen -but that Rachel and the young Highland woman held me up in their arms. - -"All this time the shouting and hallooing like the crying of hunters on -the hills came nearer, and the day was breaking fast. - -"Rachel and I were, indeed, in a strait place. I bethought me on the -Little Fair Man, and almost repented that his counsels had brought me to -this. But even then, and in the house of the Philistine, help came. - -"'Come in with you both,' said Jean Bain in a fierce voice, as if daring -contradiction. 'Donald, aff wi' your surplice and on wi' your coat. -You must meet them, and hold them in parley. It shall not be said that -a bridegroom was slaughtered like an ox upon our doorstep within an hour -of his wedding.' - -"With that she bustled us upstairs to her own room. Truly enough, there -was but one broad pallet of heather covered with rushes spread on the -floor, and no other furniture whatever. - -"Near the bed-head there was the low door of a little closet or deep -cupboard. Into this she bade us enter, and told us that she would hang -her clothing over it upon the wooden pegs which were there for the -purpose. Since no better might be we entered, for my head was running -round with my loss of blood and the pain in my wounded arm. I was glad -to lie down anywhere. - -"Then through the buzzing bees' byke in my skull I could hear Jean Bain -giving her last orders to the curate. - -"'Hear ye, Donald, lee to them weel. Ye hae seen nocht--ken nocht; and -if they offer to bide, tell them that it is the hour when ye engage in -family worship. That will flit them if nocht else will!' - -"And though I could hear the raucous voice of that gomeril -brother-in-law of mine at the bottom of the stairs, I could not help -laying my head on Rachel's shoulder, and whispering in her ear the -words, 'Little wife!' To which she responded with no more than 'Hush!' -So there we abode, crouching and cowering in that dark cupboard while a -score of raging demons turned the curate's house upside down, crying for -jugs of brandy and tasses of aquavity, while Jean Bain shrilly declared -that no brandy could they expect in such a poverty-stricken land, but -good home-brewed ale--and even that they should not have unless they -behaved themselves more seemly. - -"But ever as I lay the darkness seemed to stretch far above me, the -walls to mount and then swiftly come together again; now I was upheaved -on delicious billows of caller air, and anon I fell earthward again -through the illimitable vault of heaven. Yet every now and then I would -awake for a moment to find my head on a sweeter than Abraham's bosom, -and so fall to contemning my folly. But ere I had time to realise my -happiness I was off again ranging the universe, or at converse with -hundreds and hundreds of mocking spirits that mopped and mowed about my -path. For I was just falling into a fever, and my dear lass had to put -her skirt about my mouth to keep the man-hunters from hearing me moan -and struggle in my phantasy. - -"By nine of the clock they had drunken all that was in the curate's -house, and poor Donald Bain had gone to convoy them on their way. They -were going (so they swore) to the Black Craig o' Dee to rout me out of -my den. And this made Rachel very sore afraid, for she knew well that -if we were to go back to the damp cave in the linn I would never rise -from my bed alive. And now, as she thought, the way was shut to our -only port of refuge. Also she feared for John, my brother--not being -acquaint with John, and conceiving tnat they might do him a mischief, -together with the innocent plough lads and herds in the house. But this -need not have troubled her, for indeed no one about the Black Craig o' -Dee desired anything better than that Roaring Raif and his crew should -come near at hand to receive the welcome prepared for him. - -"But in the very hour of the storm-breaking there appeared a bieldy -dyke-back to shelter two poor lost wandering lambs. For no sooner was -Donald Bain out of the house with all the ungodly crew than Jean, his -sister, flew upstairs to us, with her gown all pulled awry as she had -escaped from the hands of the roysterers. - -"'Come your ways out, you puir young things,' she cried; 'they are gane, -and the foul fiend ride ahint them. May they never come this road -again, that kenned neither how to behave themselves seemly in a manse -nor how to conduct them before a decent lass. Faith, they little -jalloused how near they were to gettin' a durk between the ribs!' - -"But by the time Rachel and Jean Bain got me out of that darksome closet -I was fairly beside myself. The fever ran high, and I raved about -rivers of waters and the sound of great floods, and threeped with them -that I saw the Little Fair Man coming on the wings of seraphims and -cherubims and lifting me up out of the mire. - -"And as soon as Jean Bain heard the yammer and yatter of my foolish -running on, she went to the closet for some simple herbs, and put them -in a pot over the fire to steam. Then she bade Rachel help me down to -the minister's chamber, and between them they undressed me, cutting the -sleeve from my coat so as to save the poor wounded arm. They got me -finally between the blankets, and made me drink of this herb-tea and -that, willy-nilly. For which, as I heard afterwards, I called them -'witch-wives,' 'black crows of a foul nest,' with many other names. But -Jean Bain held me by the arm that was whole, while Rachel fleeched with -me through her streaming tears; and so in time they gat me to take down -the naughty-tasting brew. Nevertheless, in a little it soothed me as a -mother's lullaby doth a fractious wean, and in time I fell on a -refreshing sleep. - -"Yet Rachel would not be comforted, but mourned for me greatly, till -Jean Bain told her of the yet sorer case in which she and Donald had but -lately been. To which my lass rejoined, proud of her exceedingly recent -wifehood! 'Ah, but he is your brother--not your man! I would not care -what became of Raif, not if they hanged him on the Gallows hill, and the -craws pyked his banes!' - -"For she was angry with her brother. - -"Then all suddenly Jean Bain set her head between her hands, and began -to greet as if her poor heart were near the breaking. - -"'He _is_ my man--he _is_ my man!' she cried. "And I wish we were back -again in bonny Banff, him a herd-laddie an' me a herd-lassie, and that -we could hear again the waves break amang the rocks at Tarlair! - -"'Wedded--aye, that are we, firm and staunch,--but Donald daurna let on, -or Bishop Sydserf wad turn him awa'. He will hae nae wedded priests -amang them that he sets ower his parochins. But, as he says, men kinless -and cumberless that are neither feared to stand and fight or mount and -ride. It came aboot this gate. When Donald was comin' awa' to get his -lear, I was fair broken-hearted. For we had herded lang thegether on -the gowden braes, and lain mony a simmer day amang the broom wi' our een -on the sheep, but our hearts verra close the yin to the ither. The -bishop was o' our clan and country-side, and he made Donald graund -offers--siccan fat parishes as there were in the -Lawlands--stipend--house and gear--guid faith, he dazzled a' the -weel-doin' laddies there-aboot. And Donald gied his word to be a -curate, for he was weel-learned, and had been to the schule as mony as -four winters, me gangin wi' him, and carryin' his books when I could win -clear o' my mither. - -"'So since I couldna bide frae him, Donald brocht me here to this cauld, -ill, ootland place, where we bide amang fremit and unco folk that hate -us. But we were married first and foremost by the minister o' Deer, -that was a third cousin o' Donald's aunt's--and a solid man that can -keep his tongue safe and siccar ahint his teeth.' - -"'But oh--this place that we thocht to be a garden o' a delichts and an -orchard o' gowden fruit is hard and unkindly and bare. The gear and -plenishin' of this manse are nocht but the heather beds that our ain -fingers pu', and the blankets we brocht wi' us. And for meat we hae the -fish o' the stream an' the birds that Donald whiles shoots wi' his -gun--paitricks and wild ducks on the ponds. For no a penny's worth o' -steepend will they pay. And the bishop's warrandice runs nae farther -than the range o' the guns o' his bodyguard.' - -"So, after this explanation, the two women mourned together as they -tended me, and presently the poor curate, Donald Bain, came back to find -them thus, and me raving at large, and trying to tear off the bandages -from my arm. - -"So here in this house, ill-furnished and cheerless, this kindly couple -kept us safely hid till the blast had overblown and the bitterest of the -shower slacked. Five weeks we abode there before I could be moved, and -even then I was still as weak as water. But for the last fortnight we -lived in more comfort. For the curate went over on a sheltie which, as -he said, he 'had fand in a field,' to the Black Craig of Dee, and there -held a long parley with my brother in the gate, while John had all his -work to keep Gib Grier and his herd-laddies from shooting the curate for -a black hoodie craw o' Prelacy, as they named him. - -"And John came back with his visitor to the manse of Kirkchrist on a -beast with store of provend upon it, together with good French wines and -other comforts, for the upbuilding of the sick. - -"'I declare I will never speak against a curate again,' said John, when -he heard that which we had to tell him. And he kissed his new sister -Rachel with great and gracious goodwill, for John was ever fond of a -bonnie lass. Besides, we had had no woman body about the Black Craig -ever since our mother died, when we were but wild laddies herding the -craws off the corn in the long summer days, and hiding lest we should be -made to go with the funeral that wimpled over the moor to the Kirkyaird -of Kells. - -"Likewise also he saluted Jean Bain, or she him--I am not sure which. -For Jean was in no wise backward in affection, but of a liberal, -willing, softish nature; fond of a talk with a lad over a 'yett,' and -fond, too, of a kiss at parting. Which last she gave to John with -hearty goodwill, and that, too, in the presence of the curate. - -"And as we went slowly back over the heather, John walked on one side of -the horse which carried me, and Rachel rode on the sheltie on the other. -John was silent for a long while, and then he all at once said: 'Dod, -but I think I could fancy that Heelant lass mysel'!' - -"So Rachel began to tell him how it was with Donald Bain the curate and -Jean his wife. For with a woman's love for a fair field and no favour -in matters of love, she did not wish John to spend himself on that which -could never be his. Then was John very doleful for a space. - -"But in time he, too, changed his mind, and was most kind to poor Donald -Bain and his wife when in the year 1638 he was outed from his parish in -the same month that Sydserf, his master, was set aside by the parliament -and the people of Scotland. Then great evil might have befallen him but -that, being long fully recovered from my wound, Gib Grier and I set out -for the manse of Kirkchrist, and brought them both, Donald and Jean, to -the Black Craig of Dee, where in the midst of our great moors and black -moss-hags they were safe even as I had been in their house. And in our -spare chamber, too, was born to them a babe, a thing which, had it been -kenned, would have caused great scandal all over the land for the -wickedness of the curates. But none knew (save John and Gib, who were -sworn to secrecy) till we gat them convoyed away to the north again, -where they did very well, and Donald became chaplain to my Lord of -Sutherland. And every year for long and long the Edinburgh carrier -brought us a couple of haunches of venison well smoked, which served us -till Yule or Pasch, and very toothsome and sweet it was. This was a -memorial from Donald Bain and Jean his wife. - -"Douce and sober we lived, Rachel and I, we who had been so strangely -joined. For the Slee Tod of Kirkchrist was glad enough to have his -daughter wed to one who asked neither dower nor wedding-gift, tocher nor -house linen; and as for Roaring Raif, he broke his neck-bone over the -linn coming home one night from the rood-fair of Dumfries. But I kept -my mind steadfastly set to make my new life atone for the faults of the -old--which may be bad theology, but is good sound fact. And Rachel, -like a valiant housewife, aided me in that as in all things. So that I -became in time a man of mark, and was chosen an elder by the Session of -the parish. But nevertheless the old Adam was not dead within me, but -only kept close behind bars waiting to be quits with me. For as the -years went by I was greatly taken up with my own righteousness, and so -in excellent case to backslide. - -"Now it chanced that, being one day in the change house of the clachan, -I heard one speak lightly of our daughter Anne, that was now of -marriageable age, and of a most innocent and merry heart. So anger took -hold of me, and, unmindful of my great strength, I dealt the young man -such a buffet on the side of his head that he was carried out for dead, -and indeed lay long at his father's house between life and death. - -"Now this was a mighty sorrow to me and to Rachel my wife. And though -little was said because of the provocation I had (which all had heard), -I thought it my duty to resign my office of the eldership, confessing my -hastiness and sin to my brethren, and offering public contrition. But -for all that I gat no ease, but was under a great cloud of doubt, -feeling myself once again without God and without hope in the world. - -"Then it came to me that if I could but see the Little Fair Man again he -would tell me what I should do. I knew that he had been of a long -season regent of a college in the town of Sanct Anders. So I gave -myself no rest day nor night till my good wife, after vainly trying to -settle me by her loving words, made all preparation of provend in -saddle-bags, and guineas in pouch, and set me on a good beast at the -louping-on stone by our door. It was the first year of the restored -King Charles, the Second of that name, and the darkness was just -thickening upon the land, a darkness greater than the first, when I set -out to see Mr. Rutherfurd. - -"For the early part of my travel all went well, but when I was passing -through the town of Hamilton, certain soldiers set upon me, asking for -my pass, and calling me 'Westland Whig' and 'canting rebel.' They would -have taken from me all that I had, having already turned my saddle-bags -outside in, and one of them even came near to thrust his hand into my -pocket, when a coach drove up with six horses and outriders mired to the -shoulders. Then a pair of grand servants sprang down from behind, and -cried: 'Room for my Lord Bishop!' And at this the soldiers desisted -from plundering me to do their obeisance. - -"Then there came forth first a rosy buxom woman, breathing heavily, and -holding out a plump hand to the man-servant. - -"But when she saw me with a soldier at either side, she took one long -look, and then cried out in a hearty voice: 'What's this--what's -this--my friend Harry Wedderburn in the gled's claws? Let be, scullions! -Donald, here's our host frae the Black Craig o' Dee!' - -"And forthwith, the soldiers falling back abashed, the bishop's lady, -she that had been poor Jean Bain, came at me in her old reckless way, -and flung her arms about my neck, kissing me soundly and heartily--as I -had not been kissed of a long season by any save Rachel, me being no -more a young man. - -"And the bishop was no other than Donald himself, the same who had been -curate of Kirkchrist--and a right reverend prelate he looked. - -"Then nothing would do Jean and Donald but I must get into the carriage -with them, and have one of their men-servants ride my beast into -Edinburgh. Neither excuse nor nay-say would my lady bishop take. So in -this manner we travelled very comfortably, I sitting beside her, and at -Edinburgh we parted, I to Sanct Anders, they to a lodging near my Lord -of Sutherland's house, to whose influence with the king they owed their -advancement. For they were hand and glove with him. And the morning I -was to ride away came their carriage to the door, and lo! my lady -again--this time with a safe-conduct and letter of certification from -the Privy Council setting forth that I was a person notably -well-affected and staunch; that none were to hinder or molest me or mine -in body or estate under penalty of the King's displeasure. Which thing -in the troublous times to come more than once or twice stood me in great -stead. - -"But when I came to Sanct Anders, the first thing I heard was that Mr. -Rutherfurd lay a-dying in his college of St. Mary's. I betook me -thither, and lo! a guard of soldiers was about the doors, and would in -no wise permit me pass. They were burning a pile of books, and I heard -say that it was done by order of the parliament, and that thereafter Mr. -Rutherfurd was to be carried out, alive or dead, and his bed set in the -open street. _Lex Rex_ was the name of the book I saw them turning this -way and that with sticks, so as to make the leaves burn faster. I know -not why it was so dour to catch, for out of curiosity I got me a copy -afterwards, and the Lord knows it was dry enough--at least to my taste. - -"But after a while, showing the officer my Privy Council letter, I -prevailed on him that I had a mandate from government to see Mr. -Rutherfurd, and that I had come directly and of purpose from Edinburgh -to oversee the affair, and report on those who were diligent. So at -long and last they let me go up the stair. - -"And at the top I found many doors closed, but one open, and the sound -of a voice I knew well speaking within. - -"And still it was telling the praises of the Friend--yes, after a -lifetime of struggle and suffering. Nor do I think that, save for taking -rest in sleep, the voice had ever been silent on that theme. - -"So though none knew me, I passed straight through the little company to -the deathbed of the man who spoke. He was the Little Fair Man no -longer. But his scant white hair lay soft as silk on the pillow. His -face was pale as ivory, his cheeks fallen in, only his eyes glowed like -live coals deep-sunken in his head. - -"'So, friend--you have come to see an old man die,' he said, when his -eyes lighted on me; 'what, a bairn of mine, sayst thou--not after the -flesh but after the spirit. Aye, I do mind that day at Kells. A gale -from the Lord blew about us that day. So you are Harry of the Rude -Hand, and you have fallen into sin. Ah, you must not come to me--you -must to the Master! You had better have gone to your closet, and worn -the whinstone a little with the knees of your breeks. And yet I ken not. -None hath been a greater sinner or known greater mercy than Samuel -Rutherfurd. I am summoned by the Star Chamber--I go to the chamber of -Stars. I will see the King. I will carry Him your message, Harry. -Fear not, the young man you smote will recover. He will yet bless you -for laying a hand on him, even as this day you acknowledge the unworthy -servant who on the green sward of Kells called you out of darkness into -His marvellous light. - -"'Sir, fare you well. Go home to your wife, nothing doubting. This -night shall close the door. At five of the morning I will fasten my -anchor within the veil.' - -"And even as he said so it was. He passed away, and, as for me, secure -that he would carry my message to the Alone Forgiver of Sins I returned -home to find the youth recovered and penitent. He afterwards became a -noted professor and field preacher, and died sealing his testimony with -his blood on the victorious field of Loudon Hill. - -"This is the testimony of me, Harry Wedderburn, sometime called -Strength-o'-Airm, who now in the valley of peace and a restored Israel -wait the consummation of all things. Being very lonely, I write these -things out to pass the time till I, too, cast mine anchor within the -veil. And I cheer myself with thinking that two shall meet me there, -one on either side of the gate--Rachel, my heart's dear partner, and the -Little Fair Man, who will take by either hand and lead into the presence -of the Friend, poor unworthy Harry Wedderburn, sometime bond-slave of -sin, but now servant most unprofitable of the Lord." - - -(Note by Mr. John Wedderburn.--"_My father departed this life on the -morning after finishing this paper, sleeping quietly away about five of -the clock._") - - - - - *MY FATHER'S LOVE STORY* - - -When I am putting together family stories, new and old, I may as well -tell my father's. Sometimes we of a younger day thought him stiff, -silent, out of sympathy with our interests and amusements; but the -saving salt of humour that was in him made this only seeming. In -reality tolerance and kindliest understanding beaconed from under the -covert of his bushy grey eyebrows. - -There was the savour of an infinite discernment in the slow "Aye?" with -which he was wont to receive any doubtful statement. My mother said -ever ten words for his one, and it was his wont to listen to her gravely -and unsmilingly, as if giving the subject the profoundest attention, -while all the time his thoughts were far away--a fact well understood -and much resented by his wife. - -"What am I talkin' aboot, Saunders?" she would say, pausing in the midst -of a commination upon some new and garish fashion in dress, or the late -hours kept by certain young men not a thousand miles away. - -"Oh, breaking the second commandment, as usual," he would reply; -"discoursing of the heavens above, the earth beneath, and the waters -under the earth!" - -"Havers," she would reply, her face, however, glancing at him bright as -a new-milled shilling, "your thochts were awa' on the mountains o' -vainity! Naething richt waukens ye up but a minister to argue wi'!" - -And, indeed, that was a true word. For though an unusually silent man, -my father, Alexander (or Saunders) McQuhirr, liked nothing better than a -minister to argue with--if one of the Kirk of Scotland, well and good. -There was the Revolution Settlement, the Headship of Christ, the Power -of the Civil Magistrate. My father enjoyed himself thoroughly, and if -the minister chanced to be worthy, so did he. But it took a Cameronian -or an Original Secession divine really to rouse within him, what my -mother called "his bowels of wrath." - -"There is a distinct Brownist strain in your opinions, Alexander," Mr. -Osbourne would say--his own minister from the Kirk on the Hill. "Your -father's name was not Abel for nothing!"[#] - - -[#] "Abel," "Jacob," "Abraham" were not common names in Scotland, and -such as occurred in families during last century might generally be -traced to the time of Cromwellian occupation. David and Samuel were the -only really common Old Testament names at that time. - - -Mr. Osbourne generally reminded him of this when he had got the worse of -some argument on the true inwardness of the Marrow Controversy. He did -not like to be beaten, and my father was a dour arguer. Once it is -recorded that the minister brought all the way up to Drumquhat on a -Communion Friday--the "off-day" as it were of the Scottish Holy -Week--the great Dr. Marcus Lawton himself from Edinburgh. It happened -to be a wettish day in the lull between hay and harvest. My father was -doing something in the outhouse where he kept his joinering tools, and -the two ministers joined him there early in the forenoon. They were -well into "Freewill" before my father was at the end of the board he had -been planing. "Predestination" was the overword of their conversation -at the noonday meal, which all three seemed to partake of as -dispassionately as if they had been stoking a fire--this to the great -indignation of my mother, who having been warned of the proposed honour, -had given herself even more completely to hospitality than was habitual -with her. - -Mr. Osbourne, indeed, made a pretext of talking to her about the price -of butter, and how her hens were laying. But she saw through him even -as he spoke. - -For, as she said afterwards, describing the scene, "I saw his lug cockit -for what the ither twa were saying, and if it hadna been for the -restrainin' grace o' God, I declare I wad hae telled him that butter was -a guinea a pound in Dumfries market, and that my hens were laying a -score o' eggs apiece every day--he never wad hae kenned that I was -tellin' him a lee!" - -All day the great controversy went on. Even now I can remember the -echoes of it coming to me through the wet green leaves of the mallows my -mother had planted along the south-looking wall. To this day I can hear -the drip of the water from the slates mingling with such phrases as "the -divine sovereignty," the "Covenant of Works," "the Adamic dispensation." -I see the purple of the flowers and smell the sweet smell of the pine -shavings. They seemed to my childish mind like three Titans hurling the -longest words in the dictionary at each other. I know nothing wherewith -to express the effect upon my mind of this day-long conflict save that -great line in the fifth book of _Paradise Lost_: - - "Thrones, dominations, princedoms, vertues, powers!" - - -It was years after when first I read it, but instantly I thought of that -wet summer day in Lammastide, when my father wrestled with his peers -concerning the deep things of eternity, and was not overcome. - -My mother has often told me that he never slept all that night--how -waking in the dawn and finding his place vacant, she had hastily thrown -on a gown and gone out to look for him. He was walking up and down in -the little orchard behind the barn, his hands clasped behind his back. -And all he said in answer to her reproaches was: "It's vexin', Mary, to -think that I only minded that text in Ephesians about being 'sealed unto -the day of redemption' after he was ower the hill. It wad hae ta'en the -feet clean frae him if I had gotten hand o' it in time." - -"What can ye do wi' a man like that?" she would conclude, summing up her -husband's character, mostly in his hearing. - -"But remember, Mary, the pit from which I was digged!" he would reply, -reaching down the worn old leather-bound copy of Boston's _Fourfold -State_ out of the wall-press and settling himself to re-peruse a -favourite chapter. - - * * * * * - -My father's father, Yabel McQuhirr, was a fierce hard man, and seldom -showed his heart, ruling his house with a rod of iron, setting each in -his place, wife, child, man-servant and maid-servant, ox and ass--aye, -and the stranger within his gates. - -My father does not talk of these things, but my mother has often told me -of that strange household up among the granite hills, to which, as a -maid of nineteen, she went to serve. In those days in all the Galloway -farm-towns, master and servant sat down together to meals. The head of -the house was lawgiver and potentate, priest and parent to all beneath -his roof. And if Yabel McQuhirr of Ardmannoch did not exercise the -right of pit and gallows, it was about all the authority he did not -claim over his own. - -Yabel had a family of strong sons, silent, dour--the doctrine of -unquestioning obedience driven into them by their father's right arm and -oaken staff. But their love was for their mother, who drifted through -the house with a foot light as a falling leaf, and a voice attuned to -the murmuring of a hill stream. There was no daughter in the household, -and Mary McArthur had come partly to supply the want. She had brought a -sore little heart with her, all because of a certain ship that had gone -over the sea, and the glint of a sailor lad's merry blue eyes she would -see no more. - -She had therefore no mind for love-making, and Thomas and Abel, the two -eldest sons, got very short answers for their pains when they "tried -their hand" on their mother's new house-lass. Tom, the eldest, took it -well enough, and went elsewhere; but Abel was a bully by nature, and -would not let the girl alone. Once he kissed her by force as, -hand-tied, she carried in the peats from the stack. Whereupon -Alexander, the silent third brother, found out the reason of Mary's red -eyes, and interviewed his brother behind the barn to such purpose that -his face bore the marks of fraternal knuckles for a week. Also -Alexander had his lip split. - -"Ye hae been fechtin' again, ye blakes," thundered their father. "Mind -ye, if this happens again I will break every bane in your bodies. I -will have you know that I am a man of peace! How did you get that black -eye, Yabel?" - -"I trippit ower the shaft o' a cairt!" said Abel, lying glibly in fear -of consequences. - -"And you, Alexander--where gat ye that lip?" - -"I ran against something!" said the defender of innocence, succinctly. -And stuck to it stubbornly, refusing all amplification. - -"Well," said their father, grimly, "take considerably more heed to your -going, both of ye, or you may run against something more serious still!" - -Then he whistled on his dogs, and went up the dyke-side towards the -hill. - - * * * * * - -After this, Alexander always carried in the peats for Mary McArthur, -and, in spite of the taunts and gibes of his brothers, did such part of -her work as lay outside the house. On winter nights and mornings he -lighted the stable lantern for her before she went to milk the kye, and -then when she was come to the byre he took his mother's stool and pail -and milked beside her cow for cow. - -All these things he did without speaking a word of love, or, indeed, -saying a word of anything beyond the commonplaces of a country life. He -never told her whether or no he had heard about the sailor lad who had -gone over seas. - -Indeed, he never referred to the subject throughout a long lifetime. -All the same, I think he must have suspected, and with natural -gentleness and courtesy set himself to ease the girl's heart-sore -burden. - -Sometimes Mary would raise her eyes and catch him looking at her--that -was all. And more often she was conscious of his grave staid regard -when she did not look up. At first it fretted her a little. For, of -course, she could never love again--never believe any man's word. Life -was ended for her--ended at nineteen! So at least Mary McArthur told -herself. - -But all the same, there--a pillar for support, a buckler for defence, -was Alexander McQuhirr, strong, undemonstrative, dependable. One day -she had cut her finger, and he was rolling it up for her daintily as a -woman. They were alone in the shearing field together. Alexander had -the lint and the thread in his pocket. So, indeed, he anticipated her -wants silently all his life. - -It had hurt a good deal, and before he had finished the tears stood -brimming in her eyes. - -"I think you must get tired of me. I bring all my cut fingers to you, -Alec!" she said, looking up at him. - -He gave a kind of gasp, as if he were going to say something, as a -single drop of salt water pearled itself and ran down Mary's cheek; but -instead he only folded the lint more carefully in at the top, and went -on rolling the thread round it. - -"She is learnin' to love me!" he thought, with some pleasure, but he was -too bashful and diffident to take advantage of her feeling. He -contented himself with making her life easier and sweeter in that hard -upland cantonment of more than military discipline, from whose rocky -soil Yabel and his sons dragged the bare necessities of life, as it -were, at the point of the bayonet. - -All the time he was thinking hard behind his broad forehead, this quiet -Alexander McQuhirr. He was the third son. His father was a poor man. -He had nothing to look for from him. In time Tom would succeed to the -farm. It was clear, then, that if he was ever to be anything, he must -strike out early for himself. And, as many a time before and since, it -was the tears in the eyes of a girl that brought matters to the breaking -point. - -Yes, just the wet eyes of a girl--that is, of Mary McArthur, as she -looked up at him suddenly in the harvest-field among the serried lines -of stocks, and said: "I bring all my cut fingers to you, Alec!" - -Something, he knew not exactly what, appealed to him so strongly in that -word and look, that resolve came upon him sudden as lightning, and -binding as an oath--the man's instinct to be all and to do all for the -woman he loves. - -He was unusually silent during the rest of the day, so that Mary -McArthur, walking beside him down the loaning to bring home the cows, -said: "You are no vexed wi' me for onything, Alec?" - -But it was the man's soul of Saunders McQuhirr which had come to him as -a birthright--born out of a glance. He was a boy no longer. And that -night, as his father Yabel stood looking over his scanty acres with a -kind of grim satisfaction in the golden array of corn stooks, his son -Alexander went quietly up to him. - -"Father," he said, "next week I shall be one-and-twenty!" In times of -stress they spoke the English of the schools and of the Bible. - -His father turned a deep-set irascible eye upon him. The thick -over-brooding brows lowered convulsively above him. A kind of -illuminating flash like faint sheet lightning passed over the stern -face. A week ago, nay, even twenty-four hours ago, Saunders McQuhirr -would have trembled to have his father look at him thus. But--he had -bound up a girl's finger since then, and seen her eyes wet. - -"Well, what of that?" The words came fiercely from Yabel, with a rising -anger in them, a kind of trumpet blare heralding the storm. - -"I am thinking of taking a herd's place at the term!" said Alexander, -quietly. - -Yabel lifted his great body off the dyke-top, on which he had been -leaning with his elbows. He towered a good four inches above his son, -though my father was always considered a tall man. - -"You--you are going to take a herd's place--at the term---you?" he said, -slowly and incredulously. - -"Yes," answered his son; "you will not need me. There is no outgate for -me here, and I have my way to make in the world." - -"And what need have you of an outgate, sir?" cried his father. "Have I -housed you and schooled you and reared you that, when at last you are of -some use, you should leave your father and mother at a word, like a -day-labourer on Saturday night?" - -"A day-labourer on Saturday night gets his wages--I have not asked for -any!" - -At this answer Yabel stood tempestuously wrathful for a moment, his hand -and arm uplifted and twitching to strike. Then all suddenly his mood -changed. It became scornfully ironic. - -"I see," he said, dropping his arm, "there's a lass behind this--that is -the meaning of all the peat-carrying and byre-milking and handfasting in -corners. Well, sirrah, I give you this one night. In the morning you -shall pack. From this instant I forbid you to touch aught belonging to -me, corn or fodder, horse or bestial. Ye shall tramp, lad, you and your -madam with you. The day is not yet, thank the Lord, when Abel McQuhirr -is not master in his own house!" - -But the son that had been a boy was now a man. He stood before his -father, giving him back glance for glance. And an observer would have -seen a great similarity between the two, the same attitude to a line, -the massive head thrown back, the foot advanced, the deep-set eye, the -compressed mouth. - -"Very well, father!" said Alexander McQuhirr, and he went away, carrying -his bonnet in his hand. - - * * * * * - -And on the morning that followed the sleepless night of thinking and -planning, Alexander McQuhirr went forth to face the world, his plaid -about his shoulders, his staff in his hand, his mother's blessing upon -his head--and, what was most of all to a young man, his sweetheart's -kiss upon his lips: - -For in this part of his mandate Yabel had reckoned without his host. -His wife, long trained to keep silence for the sake of peace, had turned -and openly defied him--nay, had won the victory. The "Man of Wrath" knew -exactly how far it was wise to push the doctrine of unquestioning wifely -obedience. Mary McArthur was to bide still where she was, till--well, -till another home was ready for her. And though her eyes were red, and -there was no one to tie up her cut fingers any more, there was a kind of -pride upon her face too. And the image of the young sailor-man over -seas utterly faded away. - -At ten by the clock, Yabel McQuhirr, down in his harvest-field, saw his -son set out. He gave no farewell. He waved no hand. He said no word. -All the same, he smiled grimly to himself behind the obedient backs of -Tom and Abel the younger. - -"There's the best stuff o' the lot in that fule laddie," he growled; -"even so for a lass's sake left I my father's house!" - -And of all his children, this dour, hard-mouthed, gnarl-fisted man loved -best the boy who for the sake of a lass had outcasted himself without -fear and without hesitation. - - * * * * * - -It was to a herd's house, shining white on a hillside, a burnie trilling -below, the red heather surging about the garden dyke on all sides, that -Alexander McQuhirr took his wife Mary, a year later. And there in the -fulness of time my brother Willie was born--the child of the cot-house -and of the kailyaird. In time followed other, if not better -things--first a small holding, then a farm--then I, Alexander the -second. And still, thank God, we, the children of Mary McArthur, run -with our cut fingers to that steadfast, loving, silent man, Saunders -McQuhirr, son of Yabel, the Man of Violence and Wrath. - - - - - *THE MAN OF WRATH* - - -A man of wrath was my grandfather, Yabel McQuhirr, from his youth up. -And I am now going to tell the story of how by a strange providence he -was turned aside from the last sin of Judas, and how he became in his -latter days a man of peace and a lover of young children. - -He was my father's father, and I have already told how that son of his -to whom I owe my life, went forth to make a new hearthstone warm and -bright for the girl who was to be my mother. But after the departure of -that third son, darker and darker descended the gloom upon the lonely -uplying farm. Fiercer and ever fiercer fell the angers of Yabel -McQuhirr upon his remaining children, Thomas and Abel--the latter named -after his father, but whose Christian name never acquired the antique -and preliminary "Y" that marks the border-line between the old and the -new. - -One dismal Monday morning in the back-end of the year there were bitter -words spoken in the barn at the threshing, between Thomas and his -father. Retort followed retort, till, with knotted fist, the father -savagely felled the youth to the ground. There was blood upon the clean -yellow straw when he rose. Thomas went indoors, opened his little -chest, took from it all the money he had, shook hands silently with his -mother, and took his way over the Rig of Bennanbrack, never to be heard -of more. - -And after this ever closer and closer Yabel McQuhirr shut the door of -his heart. He hardened himself under the weight of his wife's gentle -sufferance and reproachful silences. He gripped his hands together -when, with the corner of an eye that would not humble itself to look, he -saw the tear trickling down the wasted cheek. He uttered no word of -sorrow for the past, nor did the name of either of his departed sons -pass his lips. - -Nevertheless, he grew markedly kinder in deed to Abel, the one son who -remained--not much kinder in word perhaps, for still that loud and angry -voice could be heard coming from field and meadow, barn or byre, till -the fearful mother would steal silent-footed to the kitchen-door lest -the last part of her threefold sorrow should indeed have come upon her. -But not in this manner was the blow to fall. - -Abel was the least worthy but greatly the handsomest of the sons of -Yabel McQuhirr. He had a large visiting acquaintance among the -farm-towns, and often did not seek his garret-bed till the small hours -of the morning. Then his mother, awake and vigilant, would incline her -ear on the pillow to hear whether her husband was asleep beside her. - -Now, oftentimes Yabel, her husband, slept not, yet for his wife's sake, -and perhaps because Abel, with his bright smile and clean-limbed figure, -reminded him of a wild youth he had long put behind him, he bore with -the lad, even to giving him in one short year more money to spend than -had been his brothers' portion during all the time they had faithfully -served their father. - -And this was not good for a young man. - -So that early one spring, the wild oat crop that Abel had been sowing -began to appear with braird and luxuriant shoot. A whisper overran the -parish swifter than the moor-burn when the heather is dry on the moors. -Two names were coupled, not unto honour. And on a certain wild March -morning, Yabel McQuhirr, having called his son three times, clambered -fiercely up to the little garret stair to find an open skylight, a -pallet-bed not slept in, and a home that was now childless from flagged -hearth to smoke-browned roof-tree. - - * * * * * - -Yabel rode to market upon Mary Grey, his old rough-fetlocked mare, once -badger-grey, but now white as the sea-gulls that fluttered and settled -upon his springtime furrows. He heard no word of the story of Abel his -son and the gypsy lass, for none durst tell him--till one Rob Girmory of -Barscob, bolder or drunker than the rest, blurted it out with an oath -and a scurvy jest. The next moment he was smitten down, and Yabel -McQuhirr stood over him with his riding-whip clubbed in his hand, the -fierce irascible eyebrows twitching, and wide nostrils blown out with -the breath of the man's wrath. - -But certain good friends, strong-armed men of peace, held him back, and -got Girmory away to a quiet cartshed, where, on a heap of straw, he -could sleep off his stupor and awake to wonder what had given him that -lump, great as a hen's egg, over his right eye. - -As for Yabel McQuhirr he saddled Mary Grey and took the road homeward -lest any should bring the story first to his wife. For Jen, his Jen, -was the kernel of that rough-husked, hard-shelled heart. And as he -rode, he cursed Girmory with the slow studied anathema of the Puritan -which is not swearing, but something sterner, solemner, more enduring. -Sometimes he would cheat himself by saying over and over that there was -nothing in the story. Abel had gone in his best clothes to a -neighbouring town--he knew the lad had a pound or two that burnt a hole -in his spendthrift pocket. He would return penitent when it was -finished. And the old man found himself already "birsing" with anger, -and thinking of what he would say to the returned prodigal when he -caught sight of him--a greeting which would certainly not have run upon -the lines of the parable. - -Yet, as he went on and on, fear began to enter in, and he set his -spurless heels grimly to Mary Grey's well-padded ribs. Never had that -sober steed gone home at such a pace, and on brown windy braefaces -ploughmen stood wiping their brows and watching and wondering. -Shepherds, high on the hills, set their palms horizontally above their -brows and murmured, "What's takin' auld Yabel hame at sic a pelt this -day, as if the Ill Yin himsel' were after him?" - -But for all his haste, some one had forestalled him. The busybody in -other men's matters, the waspish gossip to whom the carrying of ill -tidings is a chief joy, had been before him. Mary Grey had sweated in -vain. There was no one to be heard stirring as he tramped eagerly -in--no one flitting softly to and fro in milk-house or dairy. - -But within Yabel McQuhirr found his wife fallen by the bake-board near -the window, where she had been at work when the Messenger of Evil -entered to do her fell work. Her eyes were closed, her hands limp and -numb. With a hoarse inarticulate cry of rage Yabel raised his wife and -carried her to the neatly-made bed with the patchwork quilt upon it. -There he laid her down. - -"Jen," he said, more gently than one could have believed the rough harsh -man of wrath could have spoken, "Jen, waken, lassie. It's maybe no -true. I tak' it on my soul it's no true!" - -But on his wife's face there remained a strange fixed smile, and her -eyes, opening slowly, began to follow him about wistfully, and seemed -somehow to beckon him. Then with infinite care Yabel removed his wife's -outer garments, cutting that which would not loosen otherwise, till the -stricken woman reposed at ease beneath the coverlet. - -"Now, Jen," he said, "I maun ride to the town for a doctor. Will I tell -Allison Brown to come and look after you?" - -The wistful following eyes expressed neither yea nor nay. - -"Then will I send in Jean Murray frae the Boreland?" - -The eyes were still indifferent. There was no desire for the help of -any of human kind in the stricken woman's heart. - -Her husband watched her keenly. - -"Or wad ye like Martha Yeatman ower frae the Glen?" - -Then all suddenly the dull eyes flashed, glowed, almost flamed, so -fierce was the "No" that was in them. - -Yabel shut down his upper lip upon his nether. He nodded his head. - -"Then I will bring the doctor, and nurse you mysel'," he answered. But -within him he said: "So it was Martha o' the Glen. For this thing will -I reckon with Martha Yeatman." - -It was fortunate for Mary Grey that the distance was not long, for, like -Jehu the son of Nimshi, Yabel McQuhirr drave furiously. But at the bend -of the highway called the Far-away Turn, just at the point at which the -road dives down under a tangle of birch and alder, the old white mare -was pulled suddenly up. For there was Dr. Brydson, riding cautiously on -his little round-barrelled sheltie, his saddle-bags in front of him, and -a silver-headed Malacca cane held in his hand like a riding-whip. - -It was no long time before the good old doctor was raising the lax head -of Yabel McQuhirr's wife. The strange distant smile was still in her -eyes, and the left corner of her mouth twitched. - -"She has had a shock," said Dr. Brydson, slowly, when Yabel and he had -withdrawn a little. He was pulling his chin meditatively, and not -thinking much of the husband. - -"A stroke!" said Yabel, and the tone of his voice was so strange and -terrible that the doctor turned quickly--"but not unto death! You can -cure her--surely you can cure her?" - -And he caught the doctor by the arm and shook it vehemently. - -"Take your hands away, sir, and calm yourself!" said the physician. "If -I am to do anything, we must have none of this." - -"Say that she will not die!" he cried. And the deep-set angry eyes -flamed down upon the physician, the great fists of iron were clenched. - -Dr. Brydson was a little man, but a long course of being deferred to had -given him great local dignity. - -"I will say nothing of the kind, sir," he retorted. "I will do what I -can; but this thing is the visitation of God, and human skill avails but -little. Stand away from my patient, sir." - -But at that moment a sudden and wondrous change passed over the face of -Yabel McQuhirr. The physician was startled. It was like an earthquake -rifting and changing a landscape while one looks. In the twinkling of -an eye the fashion of Yabel's countenance was altered. He would have -wept, yet stood gasping like one who knows not the way to weep. Instead -he uttered a hoarse and terrible cry, and flung himself upon his knees -by the bed. - -"Jen," he cried, "Jen--speak to me, Jen--to your ain man Yabel! Say -that this man lies! Tell me ye are no gaun to dee, Jen--Jen, my Jen!" - -And at the voice of that strange crying the doctor stood back, for he -knew that no earthly physician had power to stay a soul's agony. - -Then, like a tide that wells up full to the flood-mark, the slow love -rose in the eyes of his wife. Her lips moved. He bent his head eagerly. -They seemed to form his name. - -"Yes, yes," he said eagerly, "'Yabel, Yabel,' I hear that! What mair? -Tell me--oh, tell me, ye are no gaun to leave me!" - -He bent his head lower, holding his breath and laying his hand on his -own heart as if to still its dull, thick beating. But though the pallid -lips seemed to move, no words came, and Yabel McQuhirr heaved up his -head and struck his palm upon his brow. - -"I canna hear!" he wailed. "She will dee, and no speak to me!" Then he -turned fiercely upon the doctor, as if he did not know him. "Who are you -that spies on my grief, standing there and doing nothing? Get oot o' my -hoose, lest I do ye a hurt." - -And the indignant little man went at the word, mounting his sheltie and -riding away across the moors without once turning his head, the "Penang -lawyer" tapping unwontedly upon the rounded indignant flank of his -little mare. - -When Yabel turned again to his wife there were tears in her eyes, and -the heart of the Man of Wrath was softened within him. - -"I am a fool," he said, "an angry fool. I have driven him away that -came to do her good. I will call him back." - -But though he made the hills to echo, and the startled sheep to run -together into frightened bunches, the insulted little doctor upon the -sheltie never turned in his saddle. - -"Vain is the help of man," said Yabel, as he turned to go in, "and if -God will not help me, I will renounce Him also." - -He sat awhile by Janet's side, and it was very quiet, save for the clock -ticking out the moments of a woman's life. A hen cackled without in the -yard with sudden joy over an egg safely nested. Yabel started up angrily -and laid his hand on his gun in the rack above the smoked mantel-board. -But the woman's eyes called him to desist, and he sat down again beside -her with a sigh. - -"What is it, Jen? Can ye no speak to me?" The eyes seemed to compel -him yet lower--upon his knees. - -"To pray--I canna pray, Jen; I winna pray. If the Lord tak's you, I will -arise and curse Him to His face." - -The direction of the gaze changed. It was upon the family Bible on the -shelf, where it lay with Boston's _Fourfold State_ and a penny almanack, -the entire family library. - -"Am I to read?" said Yabel, reaching it down. "What am I to read?" He -ran down the table of contents with his great stub-nailed fingers, -"Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus." But the speaking eyes did not check him -till he came to the Psalms. - -He turned them over till he came to the twenty-third. The will in his -wife's glance stopped him again. He read the psalm slowly, kneeling on -his knees by the bedside. - -At the fourth verse his voice changed. "_Yea, though I walk through the -valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with -me----_" - -And at the sound of these words the unstricken left hand of his wife -wavered upward uncertainly. It lay a moment, with something in its touch -between a caress and a blessing, upon his head. Then it dropped lightly -back upon the coverlet. - - * * * * * - -Yabel McQuhirr sat till the gloaming by the side of his dead wife, a -terrible purpose firming itself in his heart. His children had risen up -against him. God had cast him off. Well, he, Yabel McQuhirr, would -cast Him off. At His very Judgment Seat he would dare Him, and so be -thrown unrepenting into the pit prepared for the impenitent. - -He had done that which was needful to the body of his helpmeet of many -years. There was no more to do--save one thing. He rose and was going -out, when his bloodshot eye fell on the great family Bible from which he -had read eve and morn for forty years. A spasm of anger fierce as a -blast from a furnace came over the man. That Book had lied! It had -deceived him. He lifted it in one strong hand and threw it upon the -fire. - -Then he walked across the yard to the stable to get a coil of cart rope. -He stumbled rather than stepped as he went, the ground somehow meeting -his feet unexpectedly. He could not find the rope, and found himself -exclaiming savagely at the absent and outcast Abel who had mislaid it. - -At last he found it among some stable litter, lying beneath the peg on -which it ought to have hung. Gathering the coils up in his hand, he -crossed the straw-strewn yard again to the barn. There were sound open -beams in the open space between mow and mow. - -"_It_ had best be done there," he muttered. - -There was a rustling among the straw as he pushed back the upper half of -the divided door--rats, as he would have thought at another time. Now he -only wondered if he could reach the beams by standing on the corn -bushel. - -As he made the knot firm and noosed the rope through the loop, his eyes -fell on the further door of the barn--the one through which, in bygone -golden Septembers, he had so often pitchforked the sheaves of corn. - -There was something moving between him and the orchard door. In the -dull light it looked like a young child. And then the heart of Yabel -McQuhirr, who was not afraid to meet God face to face, was filled with a -great fear. - -A faint moaning whimper came to his ear. He dropped the coil of rope and -ran back to the house for the stable lantern. He lighted the candle -with a piece of red peat-ash, tossing the unconsumed Bible off the fire. -Only the rough calf-skin cover was singed, and its smouldering had -filled the house with a keen acrid smell. - -Yabel went out again with the lantern in his hand. Without entering, he -held it over the lower half of the barn door which had swung to after -him. A young woman, clad in the habit of a "gypsy" or "gaun body," lay -huddled on the straw, while over her, whimpering and nosing like a -puppy, crawled the most beautiful child Yabel had ever seen. As the -light broke into the darkness of the barn the little fellow stood up, a -golden-haired boy of two years of age. He smiled and blinked, then, with -his hands outstretched, he came running across the floor to Yabel. - -"Mither willna speak to Davie," he said. "Up--up, Mannie, tak' wee -Davie up!" - -A sob, or something like it, rose in the stern old man's throat. He -could forfeit life, he could defy God, he could abandon all his -possessions; but to leave this little shining innocent to starve--no, he -could not do it. - -He opened the door and went in. The child insisted fearlessly on being -taken in his arms. He lifted him up, and the boy hid his face gladly on -his shoulder. Yabel put his hand on the woman's breast; she was -stone-cold, and had been so for hours. Death had been busy both without -and within the little hill-farm that snell March afternoon. - -He covered her decently up with a pair of corn-sacks, and as he did so a -scrap of paper showed between her fingers, white in the light of the -lantern. - -"Mither will soon be warm noo," said the child, from the safe covert of -Yabel's shoulder. And in the clasping of the baby fingers the evil -spirit passed quite out of the heart of Yabel McQuhirr. - -And when by the open door of the lantern he smoothed out the paper that -had been in the dead woman's fingers, he read these words:-- - -"This is to bear testimony that I, Abel McQuhirr the younger, take -Alison Baillie to be my wedded wife. Done in the presence of the -undersigned witnesses - - -"Abel McQuhirr. May 3rd, 18--. - "RO GRIER. } - "JOHN LORRAINE. } Witnesses." - - * * * * * - -So in the day when Yabel McQuhirr defied his Maker and hardened his -heart, God sent unto him His mercy in the shape of a young child. Then, -after the grave had claimed its dead, the heart of Yabel was wondrously -softened, and these two dwelt on in the empty house in great content. -And in the rescued Book, with its charred calf-skin cover, the old man -reads to the boy morning and evening the story of One Other who came to -sinful men in the likeness of a Young Child. But though his heart takes -comfort in the record, Yabel never can bring himself to read aloud that -verse which says: "_Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these -... ye did it unto Me_." - -"I am not worthy. He can never mean Yabel McQuhirr," he says, and shuts -the Book. - - - - - *THE LASS IN THE SHOP* - - -In Galloway, if you find an eldest son of the same name as his father, -search the mother's face for the marks of a tragedy. An eldest son is -rarely called by his father's Christian name, and when he is, usually -there is a little grave down in the kirkyard or a name that is seldom -spoken in the house--a dead Abel or a wandering Cain, at any rate a -first-born that was--and is not. - -Now I am called Alexander McQuhirr. My father also is Alexander -McQuhirr. And the reason is that a link has dropped out. I remember -the day I found out that you could make my mother jump by coming quietly -behind her and calling "Willie." It was Willie McArthur I was after--he -had come over from Whinnyliggate to play with me. We were busy at -"hide-and-seek." - -"Willie!" I cried, sharp as one who would wake an echo. - -My mother dropped a bowl and caught at her side. - -It is only recently that she told me the whole story. - -The truth was that with twelve years between our ages and Willie away -most of the time, I had no particular reason to remember my elder -brother. For years before I was born my mother had been compassionated -with by the good wives of the neighbourhood, proud nursing mothers of -ten or eleven, because she could boast of but one chicken in her brood. -She has confessed to me what she suffered on that account. And though -now I have younger brothers and the reproach was wiped away in time, -there are certain Job's comforters whom my mother has never forgiven. - -She would be sure to spoil Willie,--one child in a house was always -spoilt. So the tongues went ding-dong. It was foolish to send him to -school at Cairn Edward, throwing away good siller, instead of keeping -him at home to single the turnips. Thus and thus was the reproach of my -mother's reluctant maternity rubbed in--and to this day the rubbers are -not forgotten. It will be time enough to forgive them, thinks my -mother, when she comes to lie on her death-bed. - -Yet from all that I can gather there was some truth in what they said, -and probably this is what rankles in that dear, kindly, ever vehement -bosom. Willie was indeed spoilt. He was by all accounts a handsome lad. -He had his own way early, and what was worse--money to spend upon it. -At thirteen he was bound apprentice to good honest Joseph Baillieson of -the Apothecaries' Hall in Cairn Edward. Joseph was a chemist of the old -school, who, when a more than usually illegible line occurred in the -doctors' prescriptions of the day, always said: "We'll caa' it -barley-water. That'll hairm naebody." All Joseph's dispensing was of -the eminently practical kind. - -To Mr. Baillieson, therefore, Willie was made apprentice, and if he -would have profited, he could not have been in better hands, and this -story never had been written. But the fact was, he was too early away -from home. He was my mother's eye-apple, and as the farm was doing well -during these years, an occasional pound note was slipped him when my -mother was down on Market Monday. Now this is a part of the history she -has never told me. I can only piece it together from hints and -suggestions. But it is a road I know well. I have seen too many walk -in it. - -Mainly, I do not think it was so much bad company as thoughtlessness and -high spirits. Sweetmeats and gloves to a girl more witty than wise, -neckties and a small running account yonder, membership of the rowing -club and a small occasional stake upon the races--not much in -themselves, perhaps, but more than enough for an apprentice with two -half-crowns a week of pocket money. So there came a time when honest -Joseph Baillieson, with many misgivings and grave down-drawings of upper -lip, as I doubt not, took my father into the little back shop where the -liniments were made up and the pills rolled. - -What they said to each other I do not know, but when Alexander McQuhirr -came out his face was marvellously whitened. He waited for Willie at -his lodgings, and brought him home that night with him. He stayed just -a week at the farm, restlessly scouring the hills by day and coming in -to his bed late at night. - -After a time, by means of the minister, a place was found for him in -Edinburgh, and he set off in the coach with his little box, leaving what -prayerful anxious hearts behind him only those who are fathers and -mothers know. - -He was to lodge with a good old woman in the Pleasance, a regular hearer -of Dr. Lawton's of Lady Nixon's Wynd. For a small wage she agreed to -mend his socks and keep a motherly eye on his morals. He was to be in -by ten, and latch-keys were not allowed. - -Now I do not doubt that it was lonely for Willie up there in the great -city. And in all condemnation, let the temptation be weighed and noted. - -May God bless the good folk of the Open Door who, with sons and -daughters of their own, set wide their portals and invite the stranger -within where there is the sound of girlish laughter, the boisterous -give-and-take of youthful wit, and--yes, as much as anything else, the -clatter of hospitable knives and forks working together. - -Such an Open Door has saved many from destruction, and in That Day it -shall be counted to that Man (or, more often, that Woman) for -righteousness. - -For consider how lonely a lad's life is when first he comes up from the -country. He works till he is weary, and in the evening the little -bedroom is intolerably lonely and infinitely stuffy. If the Door of -Kindness be not opened for him--if he lack the friend's hand, the -comrade's slap on the back, the modest uplift of honest maidenly -eyes--take my word for it, the Lad in the Garret will soon seek another -way of it. There are many that will show him the guide-posts of that -road. Other doors are open. Other laughter rings, not mellow and -sweet, but as the crackling of thorns under a pot. If a youth be cut -off from the one, he will have the other--that is, if the blood course -hot and quick in his veins. - -And so, good folk of the city, you bien and comfortable householders, -you true mothers in Israel, fathers and mothers of brisk lads and -winsome lasses, do not forget that you may save more souls from going -down to the Pit in one year than a score of ministers in a lifetime. -And I, who write these things, know. - -Many a foot has been stayed on the Path called Perilous simply because -"a damsel named Rhoda" came to answer a knock at a door. The time is -not at all bygone when "Given to hospitality" is also a saving grace. -And in the Day of Many Surprises, it shall be said of many a plain man -and unpretending housewife: "_Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the -least of these, ye did it unto Me!_" - - * * * * * - -But so it was not with Willie my brother. There was none to speak the -word, and so he did after his kind. How much he did or how far he went -I cannot tell. Perhaps it is best not to know. But, at all events, I -can remember his home-coming to Drumquhat one Saturday night after he -had been a year or fifteen months in Edinburgh. He came unexpectedly, -and I was sleeping in a little crib set across the foot of my parents' -bed in the "ben" room. - -My mother was a light sleeper all her days, and, besides, I judge her -heart was sore. For never breeze tossed the trees or rustled the -beech-leaves, but she thought of her boy so far away. In a moment she -was up, and I after her, all noiseless on my bare feet, though the tails -of my night gear flapped like a banner in the draughty passage. The -dogs upon the hearthstone never so much as growled. - -"Wha's there?" - -"It's me, mither!" - -"Willie!" - -It was indeed Willie, a tall lad with a white face, a bright colour -high-set on his cheek-bone, a dancing light in his eyes, and, at sight -of his mother, a smile on his lips. He was dressed in what seemed to me -a style of grandeur such as I had never beheld, probably no more than a -suit of town-cut tweeds, a smart tie, and a watch-chain. But then my -standard was grey home-spun and home-dyed--as often as not home-tailored -too. And Solomon in all his glory did not seem to be arrayed one half so -nobly as my elder brother Willie. - -I do not mind much about the visit, except that Willie let me wear his -watch-chain, which was of gold, for nearly half-an-hour, and promised -that the next time he came back he would trust me with the watch, as -well. But the following afternoon something happened that I do -remember. After dinner, which was at noon as it had been ever since the -beginning of time, my father sat still in his great corner chair instead -of going to the barn. My mother sent me out to play. - -"And bide in the yaird till I send for ye, mind--and dinna let me see -your face till tea-time!" was her command, giving me a friendly cuff on -the ear by way of speeding the parting guest. - -By this I knew that there was something she did not want me to hear. So -I went about the house to the little window at which my father said his -prayers. It stood open as always, like Daniel's, towards Jerusalem. I -could not hear very well; but that was no fault of mine. I did my best. - -Willie was speaking very fast, telling his father something--something -to which my mother vehemently objected. I could hear her interruptions -rising stormily, and my father trying to calm her. Willie spoke low, -except now and then when his voice broke into a kind of scream. I -remember being very wae for him, and feeling in my pocket for a dirty -half-sucked brandy ball which I resolved to give him when he came out. -It had often comforted me in times of trouble. - -"Siclike nonsense I never heard!" cried my mother, "a callant like you! -A besom--a designing madam, nocht else--that's what she is! I wonder to -hear ye, Willie!" - -"Wheesh, wheest--Mary!" - -I could hear my father's voice, grave and sober as ever. Then Willie's -vehement rush of words went on till I heard my mother break in again. - -"Marriage! Marriage! Sirce, heard ye ever the like? A bairn to speak -to me o' mairrying a woman naebody kens ocht aboot--a 'lass in a shop,' -ye say; aye, I'se warrant a bonny shop----!" - -Then there came the sound of a chair pushed vehemently back, the crash -of a falling dish. My father's voice, deep and terrible so that I -trembled, followed. "Sir, sit down on your seat and compose yourself! -Do not speak thus to your mother!" - -"I will not sit down--I will not compose myself--I will never sit down -in this house again--I will marry Lizzie in spite of you all!" - -And almost before I could get round to the front yard again Willie had -come whirling all disorderedly out of the kitchen door, shutting it to -with a clash that shook the house. Then with wild and angry eyes he -strode across the straw-littered space, taking no notice of me, but -leaping the gate and so down the little loaning and up towards the -heather like a man walking in his sleep. - -I remember I ran after him, calling him to come back; but he never -heeded me till I pulled him by the coat tails. It was away up near the -march dyke, and I could hardly speak with running so fast. He stared as -if he did not know me. - -"Oh, dinna--dinna--come back!" I cried (and I think I wept); "dinna vex -my mither!--And--there's 'rummelt tawties'{#} to the supper!" - - -[#] "Rummelt tawties," _i.e._, a sort of _purée_ of potatoes, made in -the pot in which they have been boiled, with sweet milk, butter, and -sometimes a little flavouring of cheese. All hands are expected to -assist in the operation of "champing," that is, pounding and stirring -them to a proper consistency of toothsomeness. - - -But Willie would not stop for all I could say to him. - -However, he patted me on the head. - -"Bide at hame and be Jacob," he said; "they have cast out this Esau." - -For he had been well learned in the Bible, and once got a prize for -catechism at the day school at Whinnyliggate. It was Boston's _Fourfold -State_, so, though there were three copies in the house, I never tried -to read it. - -So saying, he took the hillside like a goat, while I stood open-mouthed, -gazing at the lithe figure of him who was my brother as it grew smaller, -and finally vanished over the heathery shoulder of the Rig of Drumquhat. - -That night I heard my father and mother talking far into the morning, -while I made a pretence of sleeping. - -"I will never own him!" said my father, who was now the angry one. - -"I'm feared he doesna look strong!" answered my mother in the darkness. - -"He shall sup sorrow for the way he spoke to the father that begat him -and the mother that bore him!" said my father. - -"Dinna say that, guidman!" pled my mother; "it is like cursin' oor ain -firstborn. Think how proud ye were the time he grippit ye by the hand -comin' up the loanin' an' caa'ed ye 'Dadda!'" - -After this there was silence for a space, and then it was my mother who -spoke. - -"No, Alexander, you shallna gang to Edinbra to bring him hame. Gin yin -o' us maun gang, let it be me. For ye wad be overly sore on the lad. -But oh, the madam--the Jezebel, her that has wiled him awa' frae us, -wait till I get my tongue on her!" - -And this is how my mother carried out her threat, told in her own words. - - * * * * * - -"Oh, that weary toon!" she said afterwards. "The streets sae het and -dry, the blawin' stoor, the peetifu' bairns in the gutter, and the puir -chapman's joes standin' at the close-mouths wi' their shawls aboot their -heads! I wondered what yin o' them had gotten haud o' my Willie. But -at last I cam' to the place where he lodged. It was at a time o' the -day when I kenned he wad be at his wark. It was a hoose as muckle as -three kirks a' biggit on the tap o' yin anither, an' my Willie bode, as -it were, in the tapmaist laft. - -"It was an auld lame woman wi' a mutch on her head that opened the door. -I askit for Willie. - -"'He's no here,' says she; 'an' what may ye want wi' him?' - -"'I'm his mither,' says I, and steppit ben. She was gye thrawn at the -first, but I sune tamed her. She was backward to tell me ocht aboot -Willie's ongangin's, but nane backward to tell me that his 'book' hadna -been payit for six weeks, and that she was sore in need o' the siller. -So I countit it doon to her shillin' by shillin', penny by penny. - -"'An' noo,' says I, 'tell me a' ye ken o' this madam that has bewitched -my bairn, her that's costin' him a' this siller--for doubtless he is -wearin' it on the Jezebel--an' breakin' his mither's heart.' - -"Then the landlady's face took on anither cast and colour. She hummed -an' hawed a whilie. Then at last she speaks plain. - -"'She's nane an ill lass,' she says, ''deed, she comes o' guid kin, -and--she's neither mair nor less than sister's bairn to mysel'!' - -"Wi' that I rises to my feet. 'If she be in this hoose, let me see her. -I will speak wi' the woman face to face. Oh, if I could only catch them -thegither I wad let her ken what it is to twine a mither and her boy!' - -"The auld lame guidwife opens the door o' a bit closet wi' a bed in it -and a chair or twa. - -"'Gang in there,' she says, 'an' ye shall hae your desire. In a quarter -o' an hour Lisbeth will be comin' hame frae the shop where she serves, -and its mair than likely that your son will be wi' her!' - -"And wi' that she snecks the door wi' a brainge. For I could see she was -angry at what I had said aboot her kith an' kin. And I liked her the -better for that. - -"So there I sat thinkin' on what I wad say to the lass when she cam' in. -And aye the mair I thocht, the faster the words raise in my mind, till I -was fair feared I wad never get time to utter a tenth-part o' my mind. -It needna hae troubled me, had I only kenned. - -"Then there was the risp o' a key in the lock, for in thae rickles o' -stane an' lime that they rin up noo a days, ye can hear a cat sneeze -ower a hale 'flat.' I heard footsteps gang by the door o' the closet -an' intil the front room. And I grippit the handle, bidin' my time to -break oot on them. - -"But there was something that held me. A lassie's voice, fleechin' and -fleechin' wi' the lad she loves as if for life or death. Hoo did I ken -that?--Weel, it's nae business o' yours, Alec, hoo I kenned it. But -yince hear it and ye'll never forget it. - -"'Willie,' it said, 'tak' the siller, I dinna need it. Put it back -before they miss it--and oh, never, never gang to thae races again!' - -"I sat stane-cauld, dumb-stricken. It was an awesome thing for a mither -to hear. Then Willie answered. - -"''Lizzie,' he said, and, I kenned he had been greeting, 'Lizzie, I -canna tak' the money. I would be a greater hound than I am if I took -the siller ye hae saved for the house and the marriage braws--and----' - -"'Oh, Will,' she cried, and I kenned fine she was greetin' too, an' -grippin' him aboot the neck, 'I dinna want to be mairried--I dinna want -a hoose o' my ain--I dinna want ony weddin' braws, if only ye will tak' -the siller--and--be my ain guid lad and never break your mither's -heart--an' mine! Oh, promise me, Willie! Let me hear ye promise me!' - -"Aye, she said that--an' me hidin' there ready to speak to her like a -tinkler's messan. - -"So I opens the door an' gaed in. Willie had some pound notes grippit -in his hand, and the lassie was on her knees thankin' God that he had -ta'en her hard-earned savin's as she asked him, and that he had promised -to be a guid boy. - -"'Mither!' says Willie, and his lips were white. - -"And at the word the lassie rises, and I could see her legs tremble -aneath her as she cam' nearer to me. - -"'Dinna be hard on him,' she says; 'he has promised----' - -"'What's that in your hand?' says I, pointing at the siller. - -"'It's money I have stolen!' says Willie, wi' a face like a streikit -corpse. - -"'Oh no, no,' cries the lass, 'it's his ain--his an' mine!' - -"And if ever there was a lee markit doon in shinin' gold in the book o' -the Recordin' Angel it was that yin. She was nae great beauty to look -at--a bit slip o' a fair-haired lass, wi' blue een an' a ringlet or twa -peepin' oot where ye didna expect them. But she looked bonny then--aye, -as bonny as ever your Nance did. - -"'Gie the pound notes back to the lass!' says I, 'and syne you and me -will gang doon and speak with your maister that ye hae robbit!' - -"And wi' that the lass fell doon at my feet and grippit me, and fleeched -on me, and kissed my hands, and let the warm tears rin drap--drap on my -fingers. - -"'Oh dinna, dinna do that,' she cried, 'let him pit them back. He only -took them for a loan. Let him pit them back this nicht when his maister -is awa hame for his tea. He is a hard man, and Willie is a' I hae!'" - - * * * * * - -"Weel," my mother would conclude, "may be it wasna juist richt--but I -couldna resist the lass. So Willie did as she said, and naething was -kenned. But I garred him gie in his notice the next day, and I took him -hame, for it was clear as day that the lad was deein' on his feet. And -I brocht the lass hame wi' me too. And if Willie had leeved--but it -wasna to be. We juist keepit him till November. And the last nicht we -sat yin on ilka side o' the bed, her haudin' a hand and me haudin' a -hand, neither jealous o' the ither, which was a great wonder. An' I -think he kind o' dovered an' sleepit--whiles wanderin' in his mind and -syne waukin' wi' a strange look on his face. But ower in the sma' hours -when the wind begins to rise and blaw caulder, and the souls o' men to -slip awa, he started up. It was me he saw first, for the candle was on -my side. - -"'Mither,' he said, 'where's Lizzie?' - -"And when he saw her sit by him, he drew away the hand that had been in -mine and laid it on hers. - -"'Lizzie,' he said, 'dinna greet, my bonnie: I promise! I will be your -ain guid lad!'" - - * * * * * - -"And the lass?" I queried. - -"Oh, she gaed back to the shop, and they say she has chairge o' a hale -department noo, and is muckle thocht on. But she has never mairried, -and, though we hae askit her every year, she wad never come back to -Drumquhat again!" - -"And that," said my mother, smiling through her tears, "is the story how -my Willie was led astray by the Lass in the Shop." - - - - - *THE RESPECT OF DROWDLE* - - -Most folk in the West of Scotland know the parish of Drowdle, at least -by repute. It is a great mining centre, and the inhabitants are not -counted among the peaceable of the earth. - -"If ye want your head broken, gang doon to Drowdle on a Saturday nicht" -is an advice often given to the boastful or the bumptious. Drowdle is a -new place too, and the inhabitants, instead of being, like ordinary -Scottish Geordies, settled for generations in one coal-field and with -whole streets of relatives within stonethrow, are composed of all the -strags and restless ne'er-do-weels of such as go down into the earth, -from Cornwall even to the Hill-o'-Beith. - -Most, I say, know Drowdle by repute. I myself, indeed, once acted as -_locum tenens_ for the doctor there during six hot and lively summer -weeks, and gained an experience in the treatment of contusions, -discolorations, and abrasions of the skull and frontal bones which has -been of the greatest possible use to me since. The younger Drowdleites, -however, had at that time a habit of stretching a cord across the -threshold about a foot above the step, which interfered considerably -with professional dignity of exit--that is, till you were used to it. -But after one has got into the habit of scouting ahead with a spatula -ground fine and tied to a walking-stick on darkish nights, Drowdle began -to respect you. Still better if (as I did) you can catch a couple of -the cord-stretchers, produce an occipital contusion or two on your own -account, and finish by kicking the jesters bodily into Drowdle Water. -Then the long rows of slated brick which constitute the mining village -agree that "the new doakter kens his business--a smart lad, yon! Heard -ye what he did to thae twa deils, Jock Lee an' Cockly Nixon? He catchit -them trippin' him wi' a cairt rape at Betty Forgan's door, and, faith, -he threw them baith into Drowdle Water!" - -Such being the way to earn the esteem of Drowdle, it would have saved -the telling of this story if, when young Dairsie Gordon received a call -to be minister of the recently established mission church there, he had -had any one to enlighten him on the subject. - -He was so young that he was ashamed when any one asked him his age. -They had called him "Joanna" at college, and sent him recipes along the -desk for compelling a beard and moustache to grow under any conditions -of soil and climate, however unfavourable. - -Dairsie Gordon was very innocent, very learned, very ignorant, and--the -only son of a well-to-do mother, who from a child had destined him for -the ministry. The more was the pity! - -As a child he was considered too delicate for the rough-and-tumble of -school. He had a tutor, a mild-faced young man who seldom spoke above -his breath, and never willingly walked more than a mile at a time, and -then with a book in his hand and a flute in his tail pocket. Under his -instruction, however, Dairsie became an excellent classic, and his verse -gained the approval of Professor Jupiter Olympus when he went up to the -University of Edinburgh, where Latin verse was a rare accomplishment in -those days, and Greek ones as extinct as the dodo. - -When her son went to college, Mrs. Gordon came up herself from the -country to settle Dairsie in the house of a friend of her own, the widow -of a deceased minister who had married an old maid late in life. This -excellent lady possessed much experience of bazaars and a good working -knowledge of tea-meetings, but she knew nothing of young men. - -So, being placed in authority over Dairsie, she insisted that he should -come straight back to Rose Crescent from his classes, take dinner in the -middle of the day alone with his hostess, and then--as a -treat--accompany her while she made a call or two on other clerical -widows who had married late in life. Then she took him home to open his -big lexicons and pore over crabbed constructions till supper-time. This -feast consisted of plain bread and butter with the smallest morsel of -cheese, because much cheese is not good for the digestion at night. A -glass of milk accompanied these delicacies. It also was plain and blue, -because the cream (a doubtful quantity at best) had been skimmed off it -for Mrs. McSkirmish's tea in the morning. - -After that Dairsie was sent to bed. He was allowed ten minutes to take -off his clothes and say his prayers. Then the gas was turned out at the -meter. If he wanted time for more study and reading he could have it in -the morning. It is good for youth to rise betimes and study the Hebrew -Scriptures with cold feet and fingers that will not turn the leaves of -Gesenius till they are blown upon severally and individually. In this -fashion, varying in nothing, save that on alternate Sundays there was -something hot for supper, because Mrs. McSkirmish's minister--a severe -and faithful divine--came to interview Dairsie and report on his -progress to his mother, the future pastor passed seven winter sessions. - -Scholastically his victories were many. Bursaries seemed purposely -created for him to take--and immediately resign in favour of his -_proxime accessit_, who needed the money more. The class never queried -as to who would be first in the "exams.," but only wrangled concerning -who would come next after Gordon--and how many marks below. - -In summer Dairsie went quietly down to his mother's house in the -country, where his neck was fallen upon duly, and four handmaids (with -little else to do) worshipped him--especially when for the first time he -took the "Book" at family worship. There was a wood before the door, in -which he passed most of his time lying on his back reading, and his old -tutor came to stay with him for a month at a time. - -Thus was produced the Reverend Dairsie Gordon, B.D., without doubt the -first student of his college, Allingham Fellow, and therefore entitled -to go to Germany for a couple of years by the terms of his Fellowship. - -But by one of these interpositions of Providence, which even the most -orthodox denominate "doubtful," there was at this time a vacancy in the -pastoral charge of the small Mission Church at Drowdle. The late -minister had accepted a call to a moorland congregation of sixty -members, where nothing had happened within the memory of man, more -stirring than the wheel coming off a cart of peats opposite the manse. - -Dairsie Gordon preached at Drowdle. His voice was sweet and cultivated -and musical, so that it fell pleasantly on the ears of the kirkgoers of -Drowdle, over whose heads had long blared a voice like to the trumpets -at the opening of the seventh seal in the book of the Revelation. - -So they elected him unanimously. Also he was "well-to-do," and it was -understood in the congregation that his salary would not be a -consideration. The minister elect immediately resigned his fellowship, -considering this a direct call to the work. - -In this fashion Dairsie Gordon went to his martyrdom. Ignorant of the -world as a child of four, never having been elbowed and buffeted and -brow-beaten by circumstances, never cuffed at school, snubbed at -college, and so variously and vicariously licked and kicked into shape, -he found himself suddenly pitchforked into the spiritual charge of one -of the most difficult congregations in Scotland. - -The new minister was introduced socially at a tea-meeting on the evening -of the ordination, and then and there he had his first taste of the -Drowdelian quality. There were plenty of douce and sober folk in the -front pews of the little kirk, but at the back reckless, unmarried -Geordies were sandwiched between a militant and ungodly hobbledehoyhood. -Paper bags that had contained fruit exploded in the midst of the most -solemn addresses. Dairsie's own remarks were fairly punctuated with -these explosions, and by the flying shells of Brazil nuts. Bone buttons -at the end of knitting needles clicked and tapped at windows, and a -shutter fell inward with a crash. It was thus that Dairsie returned -thanks. - -"My dear people," (a penny trumpet blew an obligato accompaniment under -the bookboard of a pew,) "I have been led to the oversight of this -flock" (pom-pom-pom) "after prayer and under guidance. I shall -endeavour to teach you--" ("Catch-the-Ten!" "All-Fours!" "Quoits!") -"some of those things which I have devoted my life to acquiring. I am -prepared for some little difficulty at first, till we know one -another----" - -The remainder of the address was inaudible owing to cries of, "Rob -Kinstry has stole my bag!" "Ye're a liar!" All which presently issued -in the general turmoil of a free fight toward the rear of the church. - -Mrs. Gordon had come up to be present on the occasion of her son's -ordination, and that night in the little manse mother and son mingled -their tears. It all seemed so wrong and pitiful to them. - -But Dairsie, with a fine hopefulness on his delicate face, lifted his -head from his mother's shoulder, smiling like a girl through his own -tears. - -"But after all, this is the work to which I have been called, mother. -And you know if it is His will that I am to labour here, in time He will -give the increase." - -So somewhat heartened, mother and son kneeled down together, prayed, and -went to bed. - -On the forenoon of the next day two of the elders, decent pitmen, who -happened to be on the night-shift, called in to give their verdict and -to drop a word of advice. - -"A graund meetin'," said Pate Tamson, the oversman of No. 4; "what for -didna ye tak' your stick and gie some o' the vaigabonds a clour on the -lug? It wad hae served them weel!" - -"I could not think of doing such a thing," said Dairsie. "I desire to -wield a spiritual, not a carnal influence!" - -"Carnal influence here, carnal influence there," cried Robin Naysmith, -stamping his foot till the little study trembled, "if ye are to succeed -in this village o' Drowdle, ye maun pit doon your fit--like that, sir, -like that!" - -And he stamped on the new Brussels carpet till the plaster began to come -down in flakes from the ceiling. Dairsie tried to imagine himself -stamping like that, but could not. For one thing, he had always worn -single-soled shoes, with silk ties and woollen 'soles' (which he had -promised his mother to take out and dry whenever he came in), a fact -which has more bearing on the main question than appears on the surface. - -"A man has to assert hissel' in this toon, or he is thocht little on," -said Pate Tamson, the oversman. "Noo, there's MacGrogan, the Irish -priest--I dinna agree wi' his releegion, an' dootless he will hae verra -little chance at the Judgment. But, faith, when he hears that there's -ony o' his fowk drinkin' ower lang aboot Lucky Moat's, in he gangs wi' a -cudgel as thick as your airm, and the great solemn curses, fair rowlin' -aff the tongue o' him--and faith, he clears Lucky's faster than a hale -raft of polissmen! Aye, he does that!" - -"Aye," assented the junior elder, Robin Naysmith, he whose feet had put -the plaster in danger, "what we need i' Drowdle is a man o' poo'er--a -man o' wecht----!" - -"'_Quit ye like men--be strong!_' saith the Scriptures," summed up the -oversman. Then both of them waited for Dairsie, to see what he had got -to say. - -"I--I am sure I shall endeavour to do my best," said the young minister, -"but I fear I have underestimated the difficulties of the position." - -The oversman shook his head as he went out through the manse gate. - -"And I am some dootfu' that we hae made a mistak'!" - -"If we hae," rejoined Naysmith, the strong man, "we maun keep it frae -the knowledge o' Drowdle. But the lad is young--young. And when he has -served his 'prenticeship to sorrow, he will maybes come oot o' the -furnace as silver that is tried!" - - * * * * * - -Now, neither Drowdle nor its inhabitants meant to be unkind. In case of -illness or accident among themselves, none gave material help more -liberally. What belonged to one was held in a kindly communism to be -the right of all. But Drowdle was not to be handled delicately. It was -a nettle to be grasped with gloves of untanned leather. - -Dairsie Gordon opened his first Sunday-school at three in the afternoon. -At a quarter to four as he stood up on the platform to give his closing -address, he found boys scuttling and playing "tig" between his legs. He -laid down his hymn-book, and on lifting it to read the closing verses, -discovered that a certain popular bacchanalian collection entitled -"Songs of the Red, White, and Blue," had mysteriously taken its place. - -The young minister had other and graver trials also. The pitmen passed -him on the road with a surly grunt, and he did not know it was only -because they were trudging home dog-tired from their long shift. The -hard-driving managers and sub-managers, men without illusions and as -blatantly practical as a Scottish daily paper, passed him by -contemptuously, as if he had been a tract thrust under their doors. The -schoolmaster, a cleverish machine-made youth of inordinate conceit, -openly scoffed. He was a weakling, this minister, and he had better -know it. - -And, indeed, in these days, Dairsie gave them plenty of scope for -complaint. His sermons might possibly have edified a company of the -unfallen angels, if we can fancy such being interested in heathen -philosophy and the interpretation of the more obscure Old Testament -Scriptures. But to this gritty, ungodly, crass-natured, rasp-surfaced -village of Drowdle, the young man merely babbled in his pulpit as the -summer brooks do over the pebbles. - -An itinerant evangelist, who shook the fear of hell-fire under their -noses with the fist of a pugilist, and claimed in ancient style the -power to bind and the power to loose, might conceivably have succeeded -in Drowdle, but as it was, Dairsie Gordon proved a failure of the most -absolute sort. And Drowdle, having no false modesty, told him plainly of -it. At informal meetings of Session the question of their minister's -shortcomings was discussed with freedom and point, only the overs-man -and Robin Naysmith pleading suspension of judgment on account of the -young man's years. - -For there were sympathetic hearts here and there among the folk of -Drowdle. Women with the maternal instinct yet untrampled out of them, -came to their doors to look after the tall slim "laddie" who was so like -the sons they had dreamed of when the maiden's blush still tinged their -cheeks. - -"He's a bonnie laddie to look on," they said to each other as, palm on -hip, they stood looking after him. "It's a peety that he is sae -feckless!" - -Yet Dairsie was always busy. He was no neglecter of duty. He worked -with eager strained hopefulness. No matter how deep had been his -depression of the evening, the morning found him contemplating a day of -work with keen anticipation and unconquerable desire to succeed. - -To-day, at last, he would begin to make an impression. He would visit -the remainder of Dickson's Row, and perhaps--who knew?--it might be the -turning of the tide. So he sat down opposite his mother at breakfast, -smiling and rubbing his hands. - -"To-day I am going to show them, mother," he would say. - -"Show them what, Dairsie dear?" - -"_That I am a man!_" - -But within him he was saying, "Work while it is day!" And yet deeper in -his heart, so deep that it became almost a prayer for release, he was -wont to add--"_The night cometh when no man can work!_" Then to this he -added, as he took his round soft hat and went out, "O Lord, help me to -do something worthy before I die--something to make these people respect -me." - - * * * * * - -It was a hot September afternoon. Drowdle was a-drowse from Capersknowe -to the Back Raw. Here and there could be heard a dull recurring thud, -which was the _dunt dunt_ of the roller on the dough of the bake-board -as some housewife languidly rolled out her farles of oatcake. For the -rest, there was no sound save the shout of a callant fishing for minnows -in the backwaters of Drowdle, and the buzz of casual bluebottles on the -dirty window-panes. - -Suddenly there arose a cry, dominant and far-reaching. No words were -audible, but the tone was enough. Women blenched and dropped the -crockery they were carrying. The men of the night-shift, asleep on -their backs in the hot and close-curtained wall-beds, tumbled into their -grimy moleskins with a single movement. - -"_Number Four pit's a-fire! The pit's a-fire! Number Fower!_" - -It was a mile to the particular colliery where the danger was. The rows -of houses emptied themselves simultaneously upon the white dusty road, -women running with men and barefooted children speeding between, a -little scared, but, on the whole, rather enjoying the excitement. - -As they came nearer, the great high-mounted head-wheels of pit Number -Four were spinning furiously, and over the mounds which led to it little -ant-like figures were hurrying. A thin far-spreading spume of brownish -smoke rose sluggishly from the pithead. At sight of it women cried out: -"Oh God, my Jock's doon there!" And more than one set her hand suddenly -upon her side and swung away from the rush into the hedge-root. - -A hundred questions were being fired at the steadfast engineer, men and -women all shouting at once. He answered such as he could, but with his -hand ever upon the lever and his eye upon the scale which told at what -point the cage stood in the long incline of the "dook." - -"The fire's in the main pit-shaft," he said. "They are trying to get -doon by the second exit; but it's half fu' o' steam pipes to drive the -bottom engine." - -"Wha's gane doon?" - -"Pate Tamson and Muckle Greg are in the cage tryin' to put the fire oot -wi' the hose----" - -"They micht as weel spit on't if it's gotten ony catch!" - -"And Robin Naysmith and the minister are tryin' the second exit----" - -"_The minister----_" - -The cry was very scornful. The minister, indeed--what good could "a boy -like him" do down there where strong men were dying helplessly? - -So for half-an-hour Walter McCartney the pithead engineer stood at his -post watching the cage index, and listening for the tinkle of the bell -which signalled "up" or "down." - -Suddenly the faces of such as could see the numbers blanched. And a -murmur ran round the crowd at the long _t-r-r-r-r-r-r_ which told that -the cage was coming to the surface. - -Had all hope been abandoned, that the rescue party were returning so -unexpectedly? A woman shrieked suddenly on the edges of the crowd. - -"Who's that?" queried the manager, turning sharply. And when he was -answered, "Take her away--don't let her come near the shaft!" was his -order. - -Out of the charred and dripping cage came Pate Tamson and his mate, -blackened and wet from head to foot. - -"The cage is to be sent empty to the dook-bottom!" they said. "Somebody -has managed to get doon the second exit." - -With a quick switch of levers and a humming hiss of woven wire from the -headwheels, down sank the cage into the belching brown smother of the -deadly reek. - -Then there was a long pause. The index sank till it pointed to the -pit-bottom. The cage had passed through the fire safely. It had yet to -be proved that living men could also pass. - -"_Tinkle--tink!_" - -It was the bell for lifting. Walter McCartney compressed his lips on -receiving the signal, and pulled down the shiny cap over his forehead, -as if he himself were about to face that whirlwind of fire six hundred -feet down in the bowels of the earth. He drew a long breath and opened -the lever for "Full Speed Up." The cage must have passed the zone of -flame like a bird rising through a cloud. The folk silenced themselves -as it neared the surface. Then a great cry arose. - -The minister sat in the cage with a couple of boys in his arms. The -rough wet brattice cloths that had been placed over them were charred -almost to a cinder. Dairsie Gordon's face was burnt and blackened. - -He handed the boys out into careful hands. - -"I am going down again," he said; "unless I do the men will not believe -that it is possible to come alive through the fire. Are you ready, -Walter? Let her go!" - -So a second time the young minister went down through the furnace. -Presently the men began to be whisked up through the fire, and as each -relay arrived at the pit-bank they sang the praises of Dairsie Gordon, -telling with Homeric zest how he had crawled half-roasted down the -narrow throat of the steam-pipe-filled shaft, how he had argued with -them that the fire could be passed, and at last proved it with two boys -for volunteer passengers. Dairsie Gordon, B.D., was the last man to -leave the pit, and he fainted with pain and excitement when all Drowdle -cheered him as they carried him home to his mother. - -And when at last he came to himself, swathed in cotton wool to the eyes, -he murmured, "_Do you not think they will respect me now, mother?_" - - - - - *TADMOR IN THE WILDERNESS* - - -The calm and solemn close of a stormy day--that is the impression which -the latter years of the life of Bertram Erskine made on those who knew -him best. Though I was young at the time, I well remember his solitary -house of Barlochan, a small laird's mansion to which he had added a tiny -study and a vast library, turning the whole into an externally curious, -but internally comfortable conglomerate of architecture. The house -stood near a little green depression of the moorland, shaped like the -upturned palm of a hand. In the lowest part was the "lochan" or lakelet -from which the place had its name, while the mansion with its -white-washed gables and many chimneys rose on the brow above--and, -facing south, overlooked well nigh a score of parishes. There was also -a garden, half hidden behind a row of straggling poplars. A solitary -"John" tended it, who, in the time of Mr. Erskine's predecessor, had -doubled his part of gardener with that of butler at the family's evening -meal. - -Few people in the neighbourhood knew much about the "hermit of -Barlochan." Yet he had borne a great part in the politics of twenty -years before. He had been a minister of the Queen, a keen and vehement -debater, a dour political fighter, as well as a man of some distinction -in letters; he had suddenly retired from all his offices and emoluments -without a day's warning. The reason given was that he had quite -suddenly lost an only and much beloved daughter. - -After a few years he had bought, through an Edinburgh lawyer, the little -estate of Barlochan, and it was reported that he meant to settle in the -district. Upon which ensued a clatter of masons and slaters, joiners -and plasterers, all sleeping in stable-lofts, and keeping the scantily -peopled moorland parish in a turmoil with their midnight predatory raids -and madcap freaks. - -Then came waggon-load after waggon-load of books--two men (no less) to -look after them and set them in their places on the shelves. After -that, the advent of a housekeeper and a couple of staid maid-servants -with strange English accents. Last of all arrived Bertram Erskine -himself, a tall figure in grey, stepping out of a high gig at his own -door, and the establishment of an ex-minister of the Crown was complete. - -That is, with one exception--for John McWhan, gardener to the ancient -owners of Barlochan, was digging in the garden when Mr. Erskine went out -on the first morning after his arrival. - -"Good-morning!" - -John looked up from his spade, put his hand with the genuine Galloway -reluctance to his bonnet, and remarked, "I'm thinkin' we'll hae a braw -year for grosarts, sir!" - -The new proprietor smiled, and as John said afterwards, "_Then_ I kenned -I was a' richt!" - -"You are Mr. McCulloch's gardener?" - -"Na, na, sir; I am your ain gardener, sir," answered John McWhan -promptly. "Coarnel (Colonel) McCulloch pat everything intil my hand on -the day he gaed awa' to the wars--never to set fit on guid Scots heather -mair!" - -Mr. Erskine nodded quietly, like one who accepts a legal obligation. - -"I have heard of you, John," he said. "I will take you with the other -pendicles of the estate. You are satisfied with your former wages?" - -"Aye, sir, aye--a bonny-like thing that I should hae been satisfied wi' -thretty pound and a cot-hoose for five-and-forty year, and begin to -compleen at this time o' the day." - -"But I am somewhat peculiar, John," said Mr. Erskine, smiling. "I see -little company: I desire to see none at all. If you remain with me, you -must let nothing pass your lips regarding me or my avocations." - -"Ye'll find that John McWhan can haud his tongue to the full as well as -even a learned man like yoursel', sir!" - -"I have an uncertain temper, John!" - -"Faith, then ye hae gotten the verra man for ye, sir," cried John, -slapping his knee delightedly. "Lord keep us, ye will be but as a bairn -at the schule to what Maister McCulloch was. I tell ye, when the -Coarnel's liver was warslin' wi' him, it was as muckle as your life was -worth to gang within bowshot o' him. But yet he never hairmed John. He -miscaaed him--aya, he did that--till the ill names cam' back oot o' the -wood ower bye, as if the wee green fairies were mockin' the sinfu' -angers o' man. But John never heeded. And in a wee, the Coarnel wad be -calm as a plate o' parritch, and send me into the hoose for his muckle -pipe, saying, 'John, that has dune me guid, I think I'll hae a smoke.' -Na, na, ye may be as short in the grain as ye like, but after Coarnel -McCulloch----" - -At this point of his comparison John felt the inadequacy of further -words and could only ejaculate, "Hoots awa, man!" - -So in this fashion John McWhan stayed on as "man" upon the policies of -Barlochan. - -That night at dinner it was John who carried in the soup tureen and -deposited it before his new master, a very much scandalised table-maid -following in the wake of the victor. - -"I hae brocht ye your kail, Maister Areskine," he said, setting the -large vessel down with a flourish, "as I hae dune in this hoose for -five-and-forty year. This trimmie (though Guid forgie me, I doubt na -that she is a decent lass, for an Englisher) may set the glesses and -bring ben the kickshaws, but the kail and the roast are John McWhan's -perquisite--as likewise the cleanin' o' the silver. And I wad thank ye -kindly, sir, to let the hizzie ken your mind on that same!" - -With these words, John stood at attention with his hands at his sides -and his lips pursed, gazing solemnly at his master. Mr. Erskine turned -round on his chair, his napkin in his hand. His eyes encountered with -astonishment a tall figure, gaunt and angular, clad in an ancient livery -coat of tarnished blue and gold; knee breeches, black stockings, and a -pair of many-clouted buckled shoes completed an attire which was -certainly a marvellous transformation from John's ordinary labouring -moleskins. - -With a word quiet and sedate, Mr. Erskine satisfied John's pride of -place, and with another (the latter accompanied with a certain humorous -twinkle of the eye) he soothed the ruffled Jane. - -After that the days passed quietly and uneventfully enough at Barlochan. -Mr. Erskine's habits were regular. He rose early, he read much, he -wrote more. The mail he received, the book packets the carrier brought -him, the huge sealed letters he sent off, were the wonder of the -countryside--for a month or two. Then, save for the carters who drove -the coal from the town, or brought in the firewood for Mr. Erskine's own -library fire (for there he burned wood only), and the boxes of -provisions ordered from Cairn Edward by his prim housekeeper Mrs. -Lambert, Barlochan was silent and without apparent distraction. - -All the same there were living souls and busy brains about it. The -massive intellect of the master worked at unknown problems in the -library. Busy Mrs. Lambert hurried hither and thither contriving -household comforts, and developing the scanty resources of a moorland -cusine to their uttermost. Jane and Susan obeyed her beck, while out in -the garden John McWhan dug and raked, pruned and planted, his hand never -idle, while his brain busied itself with his master. - -"It's a michty queer thing he doesna gang to the kirk," said John to -himself, "a terrible queer thing--him bein' itherwise sic a kindly -weel-learned gentleman. I heard some word he was eddicated for the kirk -himsel'. Oh, that we had amang us a plant o' grace like worthy Master -Hobbleshaw doon at the Nine-Mile-Burn, that can whup the guts oot o' a -text as gleg and clever as cleanin' a troot. Faith, I wad ask him to -come wi' me to oor bit kirk at Machermore, had we a man there that could -do mair than peep and mutter. I wonder what we hae dune that we should -be afflicted wi' siccan a reed shaken wi' the wun' as that feckless bit -callant, Hughie Peebles. He can preach nae mair than my cat Tib--and as -for unction----" - -Here again John's words failed him under the press of his own indignant -comminations. He could only drive the "graip" into the soil of the -Barlochan garden, with a foot whose vehemence spoke eloquently of his -inward heat. For the pulpit of the little Dissenting kirk which John -McWhan supported by his scanty contributions (and abundant criticisms), -was occupied every Sabbath day by that saddest of all labourers, a -minister who has not fulfilled his early promise, and of whom his -congregation desire to be rid. - -"No but what we kind o' like the craitur, too," John explained to his -master, as he paused near him in one of his frequent promenades in the -garden. "He has his points. He is a decent lad, and wi' some sma' gift -in intercessory prayer. But he gangs frae door to door amang the fowk, -as if he were comin' like a beggar for an awmous and were feared to -daith o' the dog. Noo what the fowk like is a man that walks wi' an -air, that speaks wi' authority, that stands up wi' some presence in the -pulpit, and gies oot the psalm as if he war kind o' prood to read words -that the guid auld tune o' Kilmarnock wad presently carry to the -seeventh heevens!" - -"And your minister, John, with whom you are dissatisfied--how came you -to choose him?" - -"Weel, sir," said the old man, palpably distressed, "it was like -this--ye see fowk are no what they used to be, even in the kirk o' the -Marrow. In auld days they pickit a minister for the doctrine and -smeddom that was in him. 'Was he soond on the fundamentals?' 'Had he a -grip o' the fower Heads?' 'Was he faithfu' in his monitions?' Thae -were the questions they askit. But nooadays they maun hae a laddie -fresh frae the college, that can leather aff a blatter o' words like a -bairn's lesson. I'm tellin' ye the truth, sir--Sant Paul himsel', after -he had had the care o' a' the churches for a generation, wadna hae half -the chance o' a bare-faced, aipple-cheekit loon in a black coatie and a -dowg-collar. An' as for Peter, he wad hae had juist nae chance ava. He -wad never hae gotten sae muckle as a smell o' the short leet." - -"And how would Saint Peter have had no chance? Wherein was his case -worse than Paul's?" said Mr. Erskine, smiling. - -"Because he was a mairriet man, sir. It's a' thae feckless weemen fowk, -sir. A man o' wecht and experience has little chance, though he speak -wi' the tongue o' men and o' angels--a mairriet man has juist nae chance -ava.' It's my solemn opeenion that, when it comes to electin' a new -minister, only respectable unmairriet men o' fifty years an' upwards -should be allowed to vote. It's the only thing that will stop thae -awfu' weemen frae ruling the kirk o' God. Talk o' the Session--faith, -it's no the Session that bears rule ower us in things speeritual--na, -na, it's juist thae petticoated randies that got us turned oot' o' -Paradise at the first, and garred me hae to grow your honour's -veegetables in the sweet o' my broo!" - -"But why only unmarried men of over fifty?" said Mr. Eskine, humouring -his servitor. - -"For this reason,"--John laid down the points of his argument on the -palm of one hand with the crooked forefinger of the other, his foot -holding the "graip" steady in the furrow all the while. "The young -unmairriet men wad be siccan fules as to do what the young lasses wanted -them to do, and the mairriet men o' a' ages (as say the Scriptures) wad -necessarily vote as their wives bade them, for the sake o' peace and to -keep doon din!" - -"Well, John," said Mr. Erskine, "I will go down to the kirk with you -next Sunday morning, and see what I can advise. It is a pity that in -this small congregation and thinly-peopled district you should be -saddled with an unsuitable minister!" - -"Eh, sir, but we wad be prood to see ye at Machermore Marrow Kirk," -cried John, dusting his hands with sheer pleasure, as if he were about -to shake hands with his master on the spot. "I only wish it had been -Maister MacSwatter o' Knockemdoon that was gaun to preach. He fairly -revels in Daniel and the Revelations. He can gie ye a screed on the ten -horns wi' faithfu' unction, and mak' a maist affectin' application frae -the consideration o' the wee yin in the middle. But oor Maister -Peebles--he juist haes nae 'fushion' in him, ony mair than a -winter-frosted turnip in the month o' Aprile!" - -In accordance with his promise to his factotum, on the following Sabbath -morning, Mr. Erskine walked down to the little Kirk of Machermore. It -was a fine harvest day and the folk had turned out well, as is usually -the case at that season of the year. John McWhan was too old a servant -to dream of walking with his master to the kirk. He had "mair mainners," -as he would have said himself. All the same, he had privately -communicated with several of the elders, and so ensured Mr. Erskine a -reception suited to his dignity. - -The ex-minister of State was received at the little kirk door by Bogrie -and Muirkitterick, two tenants on a large neighbouring property. These -were the leading Marrow men in the district, and much looked up to, as -both coming in their own gigs to the kirk. Bogrie it was who opened the -inner door for him, and Muirkitterick conducted him to the seat of -honour in the mountain Zion, being the manse pew, immediately to the -right of the pulpit. - -It was not for some time that Mr. Erskine perceived that he did not sit -alone. Being a little short-sighted until he got his glasses adjusted, -the faces of any audience or congregation were always a blur to him. -Then all at once he noticed a slim girlish figure in a black dress -almost shrinking from observation in the opposite corner. The service -began immediately after he sat down. - -The minister was tall, of good appearance and presence, but Mr. Erskine -shuddered at the first grating notes of the clerical falsetto, which Mr. -Peebles had adopted solely because it had been the fashion at college in -his time; but it was not until the short prayer before the sermon that -anything occurred to fix the politician's wandering attention. - -Then, as he bent forward, he heard a voice near him saying, in an -intense inward whisper: "_O God, help my Hughie!_" - -He glanced about him in astonishment. It was the girl in the black -dress. She had knelt in the English fashion when all the rest of the -congregation were merely bending forward "on their hunkers," or, as in -the case of not a few ancient standards of the Faith, standing erect and -protestant against all weak-hammed defection. - -When the girl arose again Mr. Erskine saw that her lips were trembling -and that she gazed wistfully about at the set and severe faces of the -congregation. The minister began his sermon. - -It was not in any sense a good discourse. Rather, with the best will in -the world, the hearer found it feeble, flaccid, unenlivened by -illustration, unfirmed by doctrine, unclinched by application. Yet all -the time Mr. Erskine was saying to himself: "What a fool that young man -is! He has a good voice and presence--how easily he might study good -models, and make a very excellent appearance. It cannot be so difficult -to please a few score country farmers and ditchers!" But he ended with -his usual Gallio-like reflection that "After all, it is none of my -business;" and so forthwith removed his mind from the vapidity of the -discourse, to a subject connected with his own immediate work. - -But as he issued out of the little kirk, he passed quite close to the -vestry door. The girl who had sat in the pew beside him was coming out -with the minister. He could not help hearing her words, apparently -spoken in answer to a question: "It was just beautiful, Hughie; you -never preached better in your life." And in the shadow of the porch, -before they turned the corner, Mr. Erskine was morally certain that the -young minister gave the girl's arm an impulsive little hug. - -But his own heart was heavy, for as he walked away there came a thought -into his heart. A resemblance that had been haunting him suddenly -flashed up vividly upon him. - -"If Marjorie had lived she would have been about that girl's age--and -like her, too, pale and slim and dark." - -So all the way to his lonely mansion of Barlochan the ex-minister of the -Crown thought of the young girl who had faded from his side, just as she -was becoming a companion for the man who, for her sake, had put his -career behind him. - -In the afternoon Mr. Erskine sat in the arbour, while John in his Sunday -best tried to compromise with his conscience as to how much gardening -could be made to come under the catechistic heading, "Works of Necessity -and Mercy." He solved this by watering freely, training and binding up -sparingly, pruning in a furtive and shamefaced manner (when nobody was -looking), but strictly abstaining from the opener iniquities of weeding, -digging, or knocking in nails with hammers. In the latter emergency -John kept for Sunday use the ironshod heel of an old boot, and in no -case did he ever so far forget himself as to whistle. On that point he -was adamant. - -At last, after hovering nearer and nearer, he paused before the arbour -and addressed his master directly. - -"_Thon_ juist settles it!" - -Mr. Erskine slowly put down his book, still, however, marking the place -with his finger. - -"I do not understand--what do you mean by _thon_?" - -"The sermon we had the day, sir. It was fair affrontin'. The Session -are gaun up to ask Maister Peebles to consider his resignation. The -thing had neither beginning o' days nor end o' years. It was withoot -form and void. It's a kind o' peety, too, for the laddie, wi' that -young Englishy wife that he has ta'en, on his hand. I'm feared she is no -the kind that will ever help to fill his meal-ark!" - -"I am very sorry to hear you say so, John," said Mr. Erskine; "can -nothing be done, think you? Why don't they give the young man another -chance? Can no one speak to him? There were some things about the -service that I liked very much. Indeed, I found myself feeling at home -in a church for the first time for years." - -"Did ye, sir? That's past a' thinkin'! A' Machermore was juist -mournin' and lamentin'. What micht the points be that ye liket? I will -tell the elders. It micht do some guid to the puir lad!" - -Mr. Erskine was a little taken aback. He could not say that what -pleased him most in the service had sat in the manse-seat beside him, -had worn a plain black dress, and possessed a pair of eyes that reminded -him of a certain young girl who had taken walks with him over the hills -of Surrey, when the blackbirds were singing in the spring. - -Nevertheless, he managed to convey to John a satisfaction and a -hopefulness that were all the more helpful for being a little vague. To -which he added a practical word. - -"If you think it would do any good, John, I might see one or two of the -members of Session themselves." - -"Ye needna trouble yoursel', thank ye kindly, sir," said John, "I will -undertak' the job. Though my infirmity at orra times keeps me frae -acceptin' the eldership (I hae been twice eleckit), I may say that John -McWhan's influence in the testifyin' and Covenant-keeping Kirk o' the -Marrow at the Cross-roads o' Machermore has to be reckoned wi'--aye, it -has to be reckoned wi'!" - - * * * * * - -Nevertheless, the agitation for a change of ministry continued to -increase rather than to diminish. It took the form of a petition to the -Rev. Hugh Peebles to consider the spiritual needs of the congregation -and forthwith to remove himself to another sphere of labour. - -Now, John McWhan's Zion was not one of the greater and richer -denominations into which Presbytery in Scotland is unhappily divided. -It was but a small and poor "body" of the faithful, and such changes of -ministry as that proposed were frequent enough. The operative cause -might be inability to pay the minister's "steepend" if it happened to be -a bad year. Or, otherwise, and more frequently, a "split"--a psalm tune -misplaced, an overplus of fervour in prayer for the Royal Family (a very -deadly sin), or a laxity in dealing with a case of discipline--and, lo! -the minister trudged down the glen with his goods before him in a red -cart, to fight his battle over again in another glen, and among a people -every whit as difficult and touchy. But one day there was an intimation -read out in the Machermore Kirk of the Marrow to the following effect: -"The Annual Sermon of the Stewartry Branch of the British and Foreign -Bible Society will be preached in the Townhill Kirk at Cairn Edward, on -Sabbath next, at 6 p.m., by the Rev. Hugh Peebles of the Marrow Kirk, -Machermore." - -Mr. Peebles read this through falteringly, as if it concerned some one -else, and then added a doubtful conclusion: "In consequence of this -honour which has been done me, I know not why, there will be no service -here on the evening of next Lord's Day!" - -It was observed by the acute that Mrs. Peebles put her face into her -hands very quickly as her husband finished reading the intimations. - -"Praying for him, was she?" said the Marrow folk, grimly, as they went -homeward; "aye, an' she had muckle need!" - -To say that the congregation of Machermore was dumfounded is wholly to -underestimate the state of their feelings. They were aghast. For the -occasion was a most notable one. - -All the wale of the half-dozen central Galloway parishes, which were -canvassed as one district by the agents of the Bible Society, would be -there--the professional sermon-tasters of twenty congregations. At -least a dozen ministers of all denominations (except the Episcopalian) -would be seated in an awe-inspiring quadrilateral about the square -elders' pew. The Townhill Kirk, the largest in Galloway, would be -packed from floor to ceiling, and the sermon, published at length in the -local paper, would be discussed in all its bearings at kirk-door and -market-ring for at least a month to come. - -And all these things must be faced by their "reed shaken with the wind," -their feckless shadow of a minister, weak in doctrine, ineffective in -application, utterly futile in reproof. Hughie Peebles, and he alone, -must represent the high ancient liberties of the Marrow Kirk before Free -Kirk Pharisee and Erastian Sadducee. - -Considering these things, Machermore hung its head, and the wailing of -its eldership was heard afar. Only John McWhan, as he had promised, -kept his counsel, and went about with a shrewd twinkle in his eye. He -continued to bring in the soup at Barlochan--indeed, he now waited all -through dinner, and, though there was nothing said that he could -definitely take hold upon, John had a shrewd suspicion that it was not -for nothing that the young minister had been closeted with his master -for two or three hours, six days a week, for the last month. But though -it went sorely to his heart that he could not even bid Machermore and -the folk thereof--"Wait till next Sabbath at six o'clock, an' ye'll -maybes hear something!" he loyally refrained himself. - - * * * * * - -At last the hour came and the man. Mr. Erskine, having ordered a -carriage from the town, drove the minister and his wife down to Cairn -Edward in style. John McWhan held the reins, the urban "coachman" -sitting, a silent and indignant hireling, on the lower place by his -side. - -On the front seat within sat Mr. Peebles, very pale, and with his hands -gripping each other nervously. But when he looked across at the calm -face of Mr. Erskine, a sigh of relief broke from him. The Townhill Kirk -was densely crowded. There was that kind of breathing hush over all, -which one only hears in a country kirk on a very solemn occasion. -Places had been kept for young Mrs. Peebles and Mr. Erskine in the pew -of honour near the elders' seat, but the ex-minister of State, after -accompanying Mrs. Peebles to her destination, went and sat immediately -in front of the pulpit. - -"Wondrous weel the laddie looks," said one of the judges as Hugh Peebles -came in, boyish in his plain black coat, "though they say he is but a -puir craitur for a' that!" - -"Appearances are deceitful--beauty is vain!" agreed her neighbour, in -the same unimpassioned whisper. - -There was nothing remarkable about the "preliminaries," as the service -of praise and prayer was somewhat slightingly denominated by these -impatient sermon-lovers. - -"_Sap, but nae fushion!_" summed up Mistress Elspeth Milligan, the chief -of these, after the first prayer. - -The preliminaries being out of the way, the great congregation -luxuriously settled itself down to listen to the sermon. Machermore, -which had hidden itself bodily in a remote corner of one of the -galleries, began to perspire with sheer fright. - -"They'll throw the psalm-buiks at him, I wadna wunner--siccan grand -preachers as they hae doon here in Cairn Edward!" whispered the ruling -elder to a friend. He had sneaked in after all the others, and was now -sitting on one of the steps of the laft. It was John McWhan who -occupied the corner seat beside him. - -"Maybe aye, an' maybe no!" returned John, drily, keeping his eye on the -pulpit. The hush deepened as Hugh Peebles gave out his text. - -"_And he built Tadmor in the Wilderness._" - -Whereupon ensued a mighty rustling of turned leaves, as the folk in the -"airy" and the three "galleries" pursued the strange text to its lair in -the second book of Chronicles. It sounded like the blowing of a sudden -gust of wind through the entire kirk. - -Then came the final stir of settling to attention point, and the first -words of Hugh Peebles' sermon. Machermore, elder and kirk-member, -adherent and communicant, young and old, bond and free, crouched deeper -in their recesses. Some of the more bashful pulled up the collars of -their coats and searched their Bibles as if they had not yet found the -text. The seniors put on their glasses and stared hard at the minister -as if they had never seen him before. They did not wish it to appear -that he belonged to them. - -But when the first notes of the preacher's voice fell on their -astonished ears, it is recorded that some of the more impulsive stood up -on their feet. - -That was never their despised minister, Hughie Peebles. The strong yet -restrained diction, the firmness of speech, the resonance of voice in -the deeper notes--all were strange, yet somehow curiously familiar. -They had heard them all before, but never without that terrible alloy of -weakness, and the addition of a falsetto something that made the -preacher's words empty and valueless. - -And the sermon--well, there never had been anything like it heard in the -Ten Parishes before. There was, first of all, that great passage where -the preacher pictured the Wise King sending out his builders and -carpenters, his architects and cunning workmen--those very men who had -caused the Temple to rise on Moriah and set up the mysterious twin -pillars thereof--to build in that great and terrible wilderness a city -like to none the world had ever seen. There was his gradual opening up -of the text, and applying it to the sending of the Word of God to the -heathen who dwelt afar off--without God and without hope in the world. - -Then came the searching personal appeal, which showed to each clearly -that in his own heart there were wilderness tracts--as barren, as -deadly, as apparently hopeless as the ground whereon Solomon set up his -wonder-city--Tadmor, Palmyra, the city of temples and palaces and -palm-trees. - -And above all, the preacher's application was long remembered, his -gradual uprising from the picture of the earthly king, "golden-robed in -that abyss of blue," to the Great King of all the worlds--"He who can -make the wilderness, whether that of the heathen in distant lands and -far isles of the sea, or that other more difficult, the wilderness in -our own breasts, to blossom as the rose!" These things will never be -forgotten by any in that congregation. - -Once only Hugh Peebles faltered. It was but for a moment. He gasped -and glanced down to the first seat in the front of the church. Then in -another moment he had gripped himself and resumed his argument. Some -there were who said that he did this for effect, to show emotion, but -there were two men in that congregation who knew better--the preacher -and Mr. Erskine. - -All Machermore went home treading on the viewless air. They hardly -talked to each other for sheer joy and astonishment. "Dinna look as if -we were surprised, lads! Let on that we get the like o' that every day -in oor kirk!" - -That was John McWhan's word, which passed from lip to lip. And -Machermore and the Marrow Kirk thereof became almost insufferably puffed -up. - -"I'll no say a word mair," said the ruling elder, "gin he never preaches -anither decent word till the day o' his death." - -This was, indeed, the general sense of the congregation. But Hugh -Peebles, though perhaps he never reached the same pinnacle of fame, -certainly preached much better than of old. With his wonderful success, -too, he had gained a certain confidence in himself; added to which he -was almost as often at Barlochan as before the missionary sermon. - -His wife came with him sometimes in the evenings to dinner, and then Mr. -Erskine's eyes would dwell on her with a kind of gladness. For now she -had a colour in her cheek and a proud look on her face, which had not -been there on the day when he had first heard her pray: "O God, help my -Hughie!" in the square manse pew. - -God had indeed helped Hughie--as He mostly does, through human agency. -And Mr. Erskine was happier too. He had found an object in life, and, -on the whole, his pupil did him great credit. - -He also inserted a clause in his will, which ensures that Hugh and his -wife shall not be dependent in their old age upon the goodwill of a -faithful but scanty flock. - -And as for Hugh Peebles, probable plagiarist, he writes his own sermons -now, though he always submits them before preaching to his wise friend -up at Barlochan. But it is for his first success that he is always -asked when he goes from home. There is a never-failing postscript to any -invitation from a clerical brother upon a sacramental occasion: "The -congregation will be dreadfully disappointed if you do not give us -'Tadmor in the Wilderness.'" - -And Hugh Peebles never disappoints them. - - - - - *PETERSON'S PATIENT* - - -When I go out on the round of a morning I generally take John with me. -John is my "man," and of course it is etiquette that he should drive me -to my patients' houses. But sometimes I tell him to put in old Black -Bess for a long round-about journey, and then, in that case, I can drive -myself. - -For Black Bess is a real country doctor's horse. She will stand at a -loaning foot with the reins hitched over a post--that is, if you give -her a yard or so of head liberty, so that she may solace herself with -the grass and clover tufts on the bank. Even without any grass at all, -she will stand by a peat-stack in as profound a meditation as if she -were responsible for the diagnosis of the case within. I honestly -believe Bess is more than half a cow, and chews the cud on the sly. So -whenever I feel a trifle lazy, I take the outer round and Black Bess, -leaving the town and what the ambitious might call its "suburbs" to Dr. -Peterson, my assistant. Not that this helps me much in the long run, -because I have to keep track of what is going on in Peterson's head and -revise his treatment. For, though his zeal and knowledge are always to -be counted on, Peterson is apt to be lacking in a certain tact which the -young practitioner only acquires by experience. - -For instance, to take the important matter of diagnosis, Peterson used -to think nothing of standing silent five or ten minutes making up his -mind what was the matter with a patient. I once told him about this. - -"Why," he replied, with, I must say, some slight disrespect for his -senior, "you often do that yourself. You said this very morning that it -took you twenty minutes to make up your mind whether to treat Job -Sampson's wife for scarlet fever or for diphtheria!" - -"Yes," I retorted, "I told you so, but I didn't stand agape all the time -I was thinking it out. I took the temperature of the woman's armpits, -and the back of her neck, and between her toes. I asked her about her -breakfast, and her dinner, and her supper of the day before. Then I -took a turn at her sleeping powers, and whether she had been eating too -many vegetables lately. I inquired if she had had the measles, and the -whooping-cough, and how often she had been vaccinated. I was just going -to begin on her father, mother, and collateral relatives in order to -trace hereditary tendencies, when I made up my mind that it would be -safest to treat the woman for scarlet fever." - -"Yes," said Peterson, drily, "Job was praising you up to the skies this -very day. 'There never was sic a careful doctor,' he swears; 'there -wasna a blessed thing that he didna speer into, even unto the third and -fourth generation.'" - -"There, you hear, Peterson," I said, with sober triumph, "that is the -first step in your profession. You must create confidence. Never let -them think for a moment you don't know everything. Why, old Ned Harper -sent for me to-day--said you didn't understand the case, because you -declined to prescribe." - -"He is malingering," cried Peterson, hotly; "he only wants to draw full -pay out of his two benefit societies. The man is a fraud, open and -patent. I wouldn't have anything to do with him." - -"Now, Peterson," I said, very seriously, "once for all, this is my -practice, 'not yours. You are my salaried assistant. That is what you -have to attend to. You are not revising auditor of the local benefit -societies. If you do as you did with old Harper a time or two, you will -lose me my appointment as Society's doctor, and not that one appointment -alone. They all follow each other like a flock of sheep jumping through -a slap in a dyke. Besides, the Benefit Society officials don't thank -you, not a bit! They expect Harper to do as much for them the next time -they feel like taking a holiday between the sheets!" - -"What would you do then?" cried this furious young apostle of -righteousness. "You surely would not have me become art and part in a -swindle." - -I patted him on the shoulder. - -"Temper your zeal with discretion, my friend," I said. "I have found a -rising blister between the shoulder-blades very efficacious in such -cases." - -Yet my immaculate assistant, had he only known it, was to go further and -fare worse. - - * * * * * - -Meanwhile to pass the time I told him the story of old Maxwell Bone. -Peterson was clearly getting restive, and it is not good for young men -of the medical profession to think that they know everything at -five-and-twenty. Maxwell was an aged hedger-and-ditcher, who lived in a -tumble-down cottage at the upper end of Whinnyliggate. Of that parish I -was (and still am) parish doctor, and Maxwell being in receipt of -half-a-crown a week as parochial supplement to his scanty earnings, I -was, _ipso facto_, responsible for Maxwell's state of health, and -compelled in terms of my contract to obey any reasonable summons I might -receive from him. - -Upon several occasions I had prescribed for the old ruffian, chiefly for -rheumatism and the various internal pains and weaknesses affected by -ancient paupers. When I was going away on one occasion Maxwell asked me -for an order on the Inspector of Poor for a bottle of brandy "for -outward application only." I refused him promptly, telling him with -truth that he was far better without it. - -"Weel, doctor," he said, shaking his head, "dootless ye ken best. But -there's nocht like brandy when thae stammack pains come on me. It micht -save ye a lang journey some cauld snawy nicht. The guard o' the late -train will tak' doon ony message frae the junction, and if I dinna get -the brandy to hae at hand to rub my legs wi' ye micht hae a lang road to -travel! But gin ye let me hae it, doctor, it micht save ye a heap o' -trouble----" - -"The old wretch!" cried Peterson. "Of course you did not let him have -it?" - -"Peterson," I replied, sententiously, "I decline to answer you. Wait -till you have been a winter here and know what a thirty-mile drive in a -raging snowstorm to the head-end of the parish of Whinnyliggate means. -Then you will not have much doubt whether Maxwell got his brandy or -not." - -Now Peterson was really a very excellent fellow, and when he had run his -head against the requisite number of stone walls, and learned to bite -hard on his tongue when tempted to over-hasty speech, he made a capital -assistant. I shall be sorry to lose him when the time comes. - -For one thing Nance is fond of him, especially since he fell in love, -and that goes for a great deal in our house. Peterson performed the -latter feat quite suddenly and unexpectedly, as he did everything. It -happened thuswise. - -I had had a hard winter, and Nance was needing a change, so, about -Easter, I took her south, for a few weeks in the mild and recuperative -air of the Regent Street bonnet shops. I have noted more than once that -in Nance's case the jewellers' windows along Bond Street possess tonic -qualities, quite unconnected with going inside to buy anything, as also -the dark windows of certain merchant tailors in which the patient can -see her new dress and hat reflected as in a mirror. As for me, I -enjoyed the British Medical Club and the Scientific Museums--which, of -course, was what I came for. - -But when we went back home we found that Peterson's daily report of -cases had not conveyed all the truth. Peterson himself was changed. So -far as I could gather, he seemed to have done his work very well and to -have given complete satisfaction. He had even added the names of -several new patients to my list. One of these was that of a somewhat -large proprietor in a neighbouring parish, who was said to be -exceedingly eccentric, but of whom I knew nothing save by the vaguest -report. - -"How did you get hold of old Bliss Bulliston?" I asked my assistant, as -I glanced over the list he handed me. We were sitting smoking in the -study while Nance was unpacking upstairs and spreading her new things on -the bed, amid the rapturous sighs and devotionally clasped hands of -Betty Sim, our housemaid. - -Peterson turned away towards the mantelpiece for another spill. He -appeared to have a difficulty with his pipe. - -"Well, I don't exactly know," he said at last, when the problem was -solved; "it just came about somehow. You know how these things happen." - -"They generally happen in our profession by the patient sending for the -physician," I remarked, drily. "I hope you have not been poaching on -anyone else's preserves, Peterson. Did Bulliston send for you?" - -Peterson stooped for a coal to light his pipe. It had gone out again. -Perhaps it was the exertion that reddened his handsome face. - -"No," he said, slowly, "he did not send for me. I went of my own -accord." - -I started from my seat. - -"Why, man," I cried, "you'll get me struck off the register, not to -speak of yourself. You don't mean to say that you went to the house -touting for custom?" - -"Now don't get excited," he said, smoking calmly, "and I'll tell you all -about it." - -I became at once violently calm. Nevertheless, in spite of this, it -took some time to get him under way. - -"Well," he said at last, "Bulliston has got a daughter." - -"Oh," said I, "so you were called in to attend on Mrs. Bulliston." - -"When I say he has a daughter, I mean a grown-up daughter, not an -infant!" - -Peterson seemed quite unaccountably ruffled by my innocent remark. I -thought of pointing out to him the advantages of habitual clearness of -speech, but, on the whole, decided to let him tell his story, for I was -really very anxious about Bulliston. - -"Well," I said soothingly, "did Miss Bulliston call you in?" - -"It might be looked at that way," he said. - -"What was the case?" - -"A nest of peregrine's eggs near the top of Carslaw Craig." - -"Peterson!" I exclaimed, somewhat sternly, "don't forget that I am -talking to you seriously!" - -But he continued smoking. - -"I am perfectly serious," he said, and stopped. After he had thought a -while he continued: "It happened at the end of the first week you were -away. I had left John at home. I had old Black Bess with me--you know -she will stand anywhere. I took the long round, and was coming home a -little tired. As I drove past the end of Carslaw Hill, happening to -look up I saw something sticking to the sheer face of the cliff like a -fly on a wall. At first I could not believe my eyes, for when I came -nearer I saw it was a girl. She seemed to be calling for help. So of -course I jumped down and tied old Bess to a post by the roadside. Then -I began to climb up towards her, but I soon saw that I could not help -the girl that way--to do her any good, that is. So I shouted to her to -hold on and I would get at her over the top. - -"I ran up an easier place, where the hill slopes away to the left, and -came down opposite where the girl was. She had got to within ten feet -of the top, but could not get a bit higher to save her life. It looked -almost impossible, but luckily, right on top there was a hazel-bush, and -I caught hold of the lower boughs--three or four of them--and lowered my -legs down over the edge. - -"'Catch hold of my ankles,' I shouted, 'and I'll pull you up.' - -"'Can't; they're too thick!' the girl cried; and from that I judged she -must be a pretty cool one. - -"'Then catch hold of one of them in both hands!' I shouted. - -"'Right!' she said, and gripped. - -"And it was as well that she did not take my first offer, for, as it -turned out, I had all I could do to get her up, jamming the toe of my -other boot in the crevices and barking my knee against the hazel roots. -Still, I managed it finally." - -"Whereupon she promptly fainted away in your arms," I interjected, "and -you recovered her with some smelling-salts and sal volatile you happened -to have brought in your tail-coat pockets in view of such emergencies." - -"Not at all," said Peterson, quite unabashed; "she didn't faint--never -thought of such a thing. Instead, she got behind the hazel-bush I had -been hanging on to. - -"'Stop where you are a moment,' she spluttered; 'till I get rid of these -horrid eggs. Then I'll talk to you.'" - -"Tears of beauty!" I cried; "emotion hidden behind a hazel-bush. -'Alfred, you have saved my life--accept my hand.' That was what she -really said to you--you know it was, Peterson." - -"Not much," said Peterson. "She was back again in a trice, and, if -you'll believe me, started in to give it me hot and strong for smashing -her blissful birds' eggs. - -"'Here I've been watching this peregrine for weeks, and I'd got two -beauties, and just because I got stuck a bit on the cliff you must come -along and jolt me so that I have broken both of them--one was in my -mouth, and the other I had tied up in a handkerchief. - -"But I told the girl that I knew where I could get her another pair and -also a rough-legged buzzard's nest, and that did a lot to comfort her. -She was a pretty girl, though I don't believe she had ever given it a -thought; and she was dead on to getting enough birds' eggs to beat her -brother, who had said that a girl could never get as good a collection -as a boy, because of her petticoats!" - -"And where are you going to get those eggs?" I said to Paterson. "If -you think that hunting falcons' eggs for roving schoolgirls comes within -your duties as my assistant--well, I shall have to explicate your -responsibilities to you, that's all, young man!" - -Peterson laid his finger lightly on his cheek, not far from the bridge -of his nose. - -"You know old Davie Slimmon, the keeper up at the lodge? You remember I -doctored his foot when he got it bitten with an adder. Well, anyway, he -would do anything for me. I've had Davie on the egg-hunt ever since." - -"And the girl thinks you are getting them all yourself," I said, with -some severity. "Peterson, this is both unbecoming and unscientific. -More than that, you are a blackguard." - -"Oh," said Peterson, lightly, "it's all right. I go regularly to see -the old boy. He is a patient properly on the books, and when all is -over, you can charge him a swingeing fee. Well, to begin at the -beginning, each time I saw the girl I took her all the eggs I could pick -up in the interval. I got them properly blown and labelled--particulars, -habitat, how many in the clutch, whether the nest was oriented due east -and west, whether made of sticks or weeds or curl-papers, the size of -the shell in fractions of a millimetre----" - -"Peterson," I said, sternly, "I don't believe you have the remotest idea -what a millimetre is!" - -"No more I have," answered Peterson, stoutly, not in the least put out; -"but then, no more has she. And it looks well--thundering well!" he -added, after a ruminant consideration of the visionary labelled egg. -"You've no idea what a finish these tickets give to the collection." - -"So this was Miss Bulliston," I said, to bring him back to the point in -which I was most immediately interested. "That's all very well, but -what was the matter with old Bliss, her father?" - -Peterson looked as if he would have winked if he had dared, but the -sternness in my eye checked him. - -"Something nervous," he said, gazing at me blankly. "Truda kept -stirring him up till the poor old boy nearly fretted himself into a -fever, and so had me sent for. Oh, I was properly enough called in. -You needn't look like that, McQuhirr. You've no gratitude for my getting -you a good paying patient. I tell you the old man was so frightened -that Truda----" - -"It had got to 'Truda,' had it?" I interjected, bitterly. But Peterson -took no notice, going composedly on with his story. - -"... Truda ran all the way to the lodge gates, where I was waiting with -two kestrels' and a marsh-harrier, unblown, but all done up in cotton -wool." - -"What!" I cried, "the birds?" - -"No, the eggs, of course," said Peterson; "and she said: 'What have you -got there?' So I told her two kestrels' and a marsh-harrier. Then she -said: 'Is that all? I thought you would have got that kite's you -promised me by this time. But come along and cure my father of the -cholera, and the measles, and the distemper, and the spavin! He's got -them all this morning, besides several other things I've forgot the -names of. Come quick! Cousin Jem from London is with him. He'll -frighten him worse than anybody. I'll take you up through the -shrubbery. Give me your hand!' - -"So she took my hand, and we ran up together to the house." - -"Peterson," I said, "you and I have a monthly engagement. On this day -month I shall have no further occasion for your services. Suppose -anyone had seen you! What would they have thought of Dr. McQuhirr's -assistant?" - -"I never gave it a thought," he said, waving the interruption away; "and -anyway, if all tales are true, you did a good deal of light skirmishing -up about Nether Neuk in your own day!" - -Now this was a most uncalled-for remark, and I answered: "That may be -true or not, as the case may be. But, at all events, I was no one's -_locum tenens_ at that time." - -"Oh," he said, "it's no use making a fuss now, McQuhirr. Nobody saw us, -and as soon as we got to the open part near the house, Truda said: 'Now -I'm going to get these eggs fixed into their cases. So you trot round -and physic up the old man. And mind and ask to see his collection of -dog-whips. It is the finest in the world. We all collect something -here. Pa is crazy about dog-whips. And if you can't find anything else -wrong with him, tell him that his corns want cutting. They always do!' - -"'But I haven't a knife with me,' I objected. - -"'I'll lend you a ripper.' (Truda had an answer ready every time.) 'I -keep it edged like a razor. It is a cobbler's leather knife. It will -make the shavings fly off dad's old corns, I tell you!' - -"'But I never pared a corn in my life,' I said. - -"'Then you've jolly well got to now, my friend,' she said, 'for I've -yarned it to him that his life may depend on it, and that only a trained -surgeon can operate on his sort. So don't you give me away, or he may -let you have the contents of a shot-gun as you go out through the front -window. And what will happen to me, I don't know. Now go on!' - -"And with that she vanished in the direction of the stables." - -"A most lively young lady!" I cried, with enthusiasm. - -"Um-m," grunted Peterson (I have often had cause to remark Peterson's -gruffness). "Lively, you think? Well, she nearly got me into a pretty -mess with her liveliness. The butler put me into a waiting-room out of -the hall. It was all sparred round with fishing-rods, and had crossed -trophies of dog-whips festooned about the walls. I waited here for a -quarter of an hour, listening to the rumbling bark of an angry voice in -the distance, and wondering what the mischief Truda had let me in for. - -"Presently the girl came round to the open window, and as the sill was a -bit high she gave a sort of sidelong jump and sat perched on the ledge -outside. - -"'You are a great donkey,' she said, looking in at me; 'both the -kestrels' are set as hard as a rock--here, take them!' - -"And with that she threw the eggs in at me one after another through the -open sash of the window. One took me right on the pin of my tie and -dripped on to my waistcoat. Smell? Well, rather! Just then the old -butler came in, looking like a field-marshal and archbishop rolled in -one, and there was I rubbing the abominable yolk from my waistcoat. -Truda had dropped off the window-sill like a bird, and the old fellow -looked round the room very suspiciously. I think he thought I must have -been pocketing the spoons or something. - -"'Mr. Bliss Bulliston waits!' he said, as if he were taking me into the -presence-chamber of royalty. And so he was, by George! I was shown -into a large library-looking room where two men were sitting. One was a -little Skye-terrier of a man, with bristly grey hair that stood out -everyway about his head. He was lying in a long chair, half reclining, -a rug over his knees though the day was warm. The other man sat apart -in the window, a quiet fellow to all appearance, bald-headed, and rather -tired-looking. - -"'You are the doctor from Cairn Edward my daughter has been pestering me -to see,' snapped the elder man. 'My case is a very difficult and -complicated one, and quite beyond the reach of an average local -practitioner, but I understand from my daughter that you have very -special qualifications.' Whereupon I bowed, and said that I was your -assistant." - -"Good heavens!" I cried. "Peterson, had you no sense? Why on earth did -you bring my name into the affair? I shall never get over it!" - -"Oh," he answered, lightly; "wait a bit. I cleared you sufficiently in -the end. Just listen. - -"I was in a tight place, you will admit, but I thought it was best to -put on my most impressive manner, and after a look or two at the old -fellow, I resolved to treat him for nervous exhaustion. It was a dead -fluke, but I had been reading Webb-Playfair's article on Neurasthenia -just before I went out, and though men don't often have it, I thought it -would do as well for old Bulliston as anything else. - -"So I yarned away to him about his condition and symptoms, emaciated -physical state, and so forth. Well, when I was getting pretty well -warmed up I saw the young man with the hair thin-sown on top rise and go -quietly over to another window. I put this down to modesty on his part. -He wished to leave me alone with my patient. So I became more and more -confidential to old Bulliston." - -("Peterson," I moaned, "all is over between us from this moment!") - -"But the old ruffian would not allow Mr. Baldhead to remove himself -quietly," said Peterson, continuing his tale calmly. - -"'James,' he cried, sharply, 'stop where you are. All this should be -very interesting to you.' - -"'So it is,' said the young man, smiling in the rummest way, 'very -interesting indeed!' - -"So, somewhat elated, I went on prescribing rest, massage, the -double-feeding dodge, and, above all, no intercourse with his own -family. When I got through my rigmarole, the old fellow cocked his head -to the side like a blessed dicky-bird, and remarked: 'It shows what -wonderful similarity there is between the minds of you men of science. -Talk of the transference of ideas! Why, that is just what my nephew was -saying before you came in--almost in the same words. Let me introduce -you to my nephew, Dr. Webb-Playfair, of Harley Street.' - -"You could have knocked me down with a straw. I could hardly return the -fellow's very chilly nod. I heartily confounded that little -bird-nesting minx who had got me into such a scrape. But I had an idea. - -"'Perhaps, sir,' I said, 'if you would allow me to consult Dr. -Webb-Playfair we might be able to assist one another.' - -"'Certainly,' cried the little old man, speaking as sharply as a -Skye-terrier yelps; 'be off into the library. Jem, you know the way!' - -"I tell you what, McQuhirr, I did not feel particularly chirpy as I -followed that fellow's shiny crown into the next room. He sat down on a -table, swinging one leg and looking at me without speaking. For a -moment I could not find words to begin, but his eyes were on me with a -kind of twinkle in them. - -"'Well?' he said, as if he had a right to demand an explanation. That -decided me. I would make a clean breast of it. - -"So I told him the whole story--how I had first met Truda, of our -bird-nesting, and how Truda wanted me to be able to come often to the -house--because of the eggs. - -"The bald young man began to laugh as I went on with my narrative, -though it was no laughing matter to me, I can tell you. And especially -when I confessed that I did not think there was anything the matter with -his uncle, and that Neurasthenia was the first thing that came into my -head, because I had been reading his own article in the _Lancet_ before -I came out. He thought that was the cream of the joke. He was all of a -good fellow, and no mistake. - -"'So,' he said, 'to speak plainly, you are in love with my cousin, and -you plotted to keep the father in bed in order that you might make love -to the daughter! That is the most remarkable recent application of -medical science I have heard of!' - -"'Oh no,' I cried, 'I assure you it was Truda who----! - -"'Ah,' he said, quietly, 'it was Truda, was it? I can well believe -that.' - -"Then he thought a long while, and at last he said, 'Well, it will do -the old man a great deal of good to stay in bed and not worry his own -family and the whole neighbourhood with his whimsies. Moreover, milk -diet is a very soothing thing. We will let it go at that. You can -settle your own affairs with my cousin Gertrude, Dr. Peterson; I have -nothing to do with that. Indeed, I would not meddle with that volcanic -young person's private concerns for all the wealth of the Indies! Let us -go back to my uncle.' - -"So," concluded Peterson, knocking the ashes out of his pipe on the bars -of the grate, "the old fellow has been in bed ever since and has drunk -his own weight in good cow's milk several times over. He is putting on -flesh every day, and his temper is distinctly improving. He can be -trusted with a candlestick beside him on the stand now, without the -certainty of his throwing it at his nurse." - -"And Truda?" I suggested, "what did she say?" - -"Well, of course I told her how her cousin had said that I had ordered -the father to bed, in order that I might make love to the daughter. She -and I were in the waterside glade beyond the pond at the time. You know -the place. We were looking for dippers' nests. She stopped and said: - -"'Jem Playfair said that, did he?' - -"'Yes, these were his very words,' I said, with a due sense of their -heinousness. - -"'He said you sent my father to bed that you might make love to me?' - -"'Yes.' - -"She looked all about the glade, and then up at me. - -"'_Well, did you?_' she said." - - * * * * * - -This is Peterson's story exactly as he told it to me on my return. That -is some time ago now, but there is little to add. Mr. Bliss Bulliston -is now much better both in health and in temper, and there is every -reason to believe that I shall lose my assistant some of these days. -The young couple are talking of going out to British Columbia. No -complete collection of the eggs of that Colony has ever been made, and -Peterson says that the climate is so healthy there, that for some years -there will be nothing for him to do but to help Truda with her -collecting. - -This is all very well now, in the first months of an engagement, but as -a family man myself, I have my doubts as to the permanence of such an -arrangement. - - - - - *TWO HUMOURISTS* - - -Our gentle humourist is Nathan Monypenny. No man ever heard him laugh -aloud, yet as few had ever seen him without a gleam of something akin to -kindly humour in his eye. Even now, when the bitterness of life and its -ultimate loneliness are upon him, it is a pleasure to be next Nathan, -even at a funeral. During that dreadful ten minutes when the -black-coated, crinkle-trousered company waits outside for the "service" -to be over, his company is universally considered "as good as a penny -bap and a warm drink." In former days, within the memory of my father, -he had a friend and fellow-humourist in the village, one "Doog" (that -is, Douglas) Carnochan. - -The contrast between the two companions was remarkable. They both lived -in the same street of our little country hamlet. Indeed, necessarily -so, for Whinnyliggate has but one street, strictly so called. The few -cottages along the "Well-road," and the more pretentious cluster of -upstarts which keeps the Free Kirk in countenance on the braeface, have -never arrogated to themselves the name of a street. - -So at one end of the Piccadilly-cum-Regent-street of Whinnyliggate--the -upper end--lived Nathan Monypenny, and at the other end dwelt his rival, -Doog, also, though less worthily, denominated "humourist." They were -thus separated by something considerably less than a quarter of a mile -of honest unpavemented king's highway. But, though they were personally -friends, green oceans and trackless continents lay between their several -characters and dispositions. - -Nathan, at the upper end, was a bachelor, hale, fresh, and hearty as -when he had finished his 'prenticeship. Doog at forty possessed several -children, all that remained of a poor, over-worked, downtrodden wife, -and a countenance so marled and purpled with drink, that he looked an -old man before his time. Nathan's shop was his own, and he was -understood to have already a "weel-filled stocking-fit up the lum," or, -in the modern interpretation, a comfortable balance down at Cairn Edward -Bank, and a quiet old age assured to him by a life of industrious -self-denial. - -Doog never had a penny to bless himself with, later in the week than -Tuesday; and, indeed, often enough very few to bless his wife withal -even on Saturday nights, when, as was his custom, he staggered homewards -with the poor remnants of his week's wage in his pocket. - -Nathan's wit was of the kind which goes best with the sedate tapping of -a snuffmull, or the tinkling of brass weights into -counter-scales--Doog's rang loudest to the jingling of toddy tumblers. -Nathan loved to gossip doucely at the door of even-tide with the other -tradesmen of the village, with Bob Carter the joiner, his apron twisted -about his scarred hands, with bluff prosperous Joe Mitchell the mason, -and with Peter Miles the tailor, as he sat on the low seat outside his -door picking the last basting threads out of a new waistcoat. - -Doog's witticisms, on the other hand, were chiefly launched in the -"Golden Lion," amid the uproarious laughter of Jake McMinn, the "cattle -dealer frae Stranraer," Leein' Tam, the local horse-doctor (without -diploma), and "Chuckie" Orchison, the village ne'er-do-weel and licensed -sponger for drinks upon the neighbourhood. - -Yet there existed a curious and inexplicable liking between the two men. -There was never a day that Nathan, the douce and respectable, did not -leave his quiet white cottage at the head of the brae, where he dwelt -all alone with his groceries, and step sedately down, stopping every -twenty yards to gossip, or drop a word, flavoured with one of his kindly -smiles, with every passer-by. He never seemed to be going anywhere in -particular, yet he always visited Doog Carnochan's house before he -returned. And many a night did Nathan, finding the husband not at home, -pursue and recapture the truant, and bring him back to the tumble-down -shanty, where the five ill-fed children and the one weary-faced woman -furnished a tragic comment upon the far-renowned convivial humours of -the husband and father. - -The tale of Nathan and Doog is one which wants not examples in all ages -of the earth's history. It is the story of a woman's mistake. Once -Dahlia Ogilvy had been a bright frolicsome girl, winding the young -fellows of the parish round her fingers with arch mischief, granting a -favour here and denying one there, with that pleasant and innocent abuse -of power which comes so suddenly to a girl who, in any rank of life, -awakes to find herself beautiful. - -There was nothing of the wilful beauty now about Dahlia Carnochan. A -stronger woman might have mastered her fate, a weaker would have fled -from it; but she only accepted the inevitable, and, like one who knows -beforehand that her task is hopeless, she did what she could with silent -resignation, waiting clear-eyed for that death which alone would bring -her to the end of her pain. - -Yet at the time it had seemed natural enough that Dahlia should prefer -the handsome debonair Douglas Carnochan, to quiet Nathan Monypenny, who -had so little to say for himself, and so seldom said it. Besides, -Dahlia had always known that she could with a word send Nathan to the -ends of the earth, whilst there were certain wild ways about the other -even then, which had, for a foolish ignorant maid, all the attraction of -the unknown. She was a little afraid of Doog Carnochan, and there is no -better subsoil whereon to grow love in a girl's heart, than just the -desire of conquest mixed with a little fear. - -So it came to pass that, though Nathan had carried little Dahlia's -school-bag and fought her battles ever since she could toddle across -from one cottage to the other, it was not he who, in the fulness of -time, when the blossom came to its brightest and most beautiful, -gathered it and set it on his bosom. It ought to have been, but it was -not. - -As a young man Doog Carnochan was bright and clever. Most people in the -village prophesied a brilliant future for him--that is, those who knew -not the "unstable as water" which was written like a legend across his -character. He was the son of a small crofter in the neighbourhood, but -he companied habitually with those above him in rank, with the sons of -large farmers and rich stock-breeders. Some of these, his cronies and -boon companions, would be sure to assist him, so every one said. They -would set him up as a "dealer"--they would put him in charge of a "led" -farm or two. Doog's fortune was as good as made. - -So, at least, injudicious flatterers assured him. So he himself -believed. So he told the innocent, lily-like Dahlia Ogilvy at the time -of year when the Sweet William gave forth his evening perfume, when the -dew was on the latest wall-flowers, and the scarlet lightning spangled -the dusky places beneath the hedgerows where the lovers were wont to -sit. But the blue cowled bells of the poisonous monkshood in the -cottage flower-beds they did not see, though with some premonition of -fate, Dahlia shivered and nestled to her betrothed as the breeze swept -over them chill and bitter from the east. - -And Nathan Monypenny, leaning on the gate-post that he might sigh out -his soul towards the cottage of his beloved, by chance heard their -words; and, therewith being stricken well-nigh to the death, softly -withdrew, and left them alone. - -After that night Nathan sought the company of Doog Carnochan more than -ever. - -Friends warned him that Doog was no fit companion for such as he. They -insisted that he was neglecting his business. They said all those -useful and convincing things which friends keep in stock for such -occasions. Yet Nathan did not desist, till he had arranged the marriage -of Dahlia Ogilvy and Douglas Carnochan beyond all possibility of -retractation. - -He it was who accompanied the swain to put up the banns. He it was who -paid the five-shilling fee that the pair should be thrice cried on one -Sabbath day, and the wedding hastened by a whole fortnight. - -Perhaps he wished to shorten his own pain. Perhaps, he told himself, -when once Dahlia was Douglas Carnochan's wife, he would think no more of -her. At any rate, something strong and moving wrought in the reticent -heart of the young tradesman. He approved the house which Doog took for -his bride. He also guaranteed the rent. He lent the money for the -furniture, and looked after Doog on the day of the marriage, that he -might be brought soberly and worthily to the altar. - -It was a plain-song altar indeed, for, of course, the pair were married -in the little white cottage next to Nathan's, where Dahlia had lived all -her life. When he saw her in bridal white, Nathan remembered with a -sudden gulp a certain little toddling thing in white pinafores, whom he -used to lift over the hedge that he might feed her with the earliest -ripe gooseberries. - -Every one said that they made a handsome pair as they stood up before -the minister, who, with his back to the fire, did not know that he was -singeing his Geneva gown. For, being yet young to these occasions, he -wore that encumbrance because it gave him an opportunity of displaying -the hood of his college degree. - -The young women smiled covertly at the contrast afforded by the -bridegroom and his "best-man," as they stood up together. They did not -wonder at Dahlia's preference. Any of them would have done the same -thing, if she had had the chance. - -"What a fine grey suit!--how well it fits!" - -"Yes, and that pale blue tie, how it matches the flower in his coat!" - -Thus they gossiped, all unaware that it was the hard-earned money of the -plain-favoured and shy "best-man" which had bought all that wedding -raiment, paid for that sky-blue tie, and that even the flower in the -bridegroom's button-hole had grown in Nathan Monypenny's garden, and had -been plucked and affixed by his hands. - -Thus it was that the story began, and this was the reason why Nathan -sought carefully day by day, if by any means he might yet withdraw his -friend's erring feet out of fearful pit and miry clay. - -Never a morning dawned for Nathan, waking, as he had done all his life, -with the hum of the ranged bee-hives under his window in his ear, or -else listening to the pattering of the winter storms on his lattice, -that he did not bethink himself: "It is I who am responsible. I must -help him." Then he would add with a sigh: "And her." - -And so help he did, for the most part in ways hidden and secret. For he -dared not give money to Doog. He knew all too well where that would -have gone. Neither for very pride's sake, and in reverence for the -secret of his heart, could he bring himself to give money to Dahlia. -Nevertheless, as by some unseen hand, the tired heartsick woman found -her burden in many directions marvellously eased. - -Sticks were stacked in the little wood-shed which Doog had set up in the -first virtuous glow of husbandhood--and never been inside since. No -hens laid like Dahlia's--and the strange thing was that they invariably -laid in the night, sometimes a dozen at a time, all in one nest. Her -children, playing in the hot dusk of her little garden, had more than -once turned up a sovereign or a crownpiece wrapped in paper and run with -it to their mother. - -From Nathan's shop, also, there came flitches of bacon which were never -ordered by Dahlia Carnochan--flour and meal, too, in times of stress. -And it nearly always was a time of stress with Doog. - -Twice a year Nathan, with much circumlocution, would extract a reluctant -shilling or two from Doog on a flush pay-night, taking care that some of -his cronies should hear the colloquy. Then in the morning he would send -round the six months' account duly and completely receipted. - -But more often than not the crony would put it all round the village -that Nathan Monypenny had been dunning poor Doog Carnochan the night -before; and so, among the unthinking, Nathan got the reputation of being -a hard man. - -"He doesna do onything for nocht! Na, sune or syne, Nathan likes to see -the colour o' his siller," was said of him behind his back. And Doog's -generous kindness of heart was dwelt upon as a foil to his friend's -niggardliness. - -"He micht hae letten puir Doog owe him the bit shillin' or twa and never -missed it!" represented the general sense of the community. - -But Doog himself, be his faults what they might, allowed none to speak -ill of Nathan Monypenny. - -Did he not half choke the life out of Davie Hoatson for some hinted -comment (it was never clearly understood what), till they had to be -separated by kindly violence, Doog being yet unappeased? Furthermore, -did he not seek the jester for three whole days, all the time breathing -fire and fury, with intent to choke the other half of a worthless life -out of him? - -This was the state of the case when Nathan Monypenny's life temptation -came upon him. It was a grim and notable January night--the fourth day -of the great thaw. The rain had gusted and blown and threshed and -pelted upon those window-panes of Whinnyliggate which looked towards the -west, till there was not a speck of dirt upon them anywhere, except on -the inside. The snow had melted fast under the pitiless downpour, and -the patient sheep stood about behind dyke-backs, or with the courage of -despair pushed through holes in bedraggled hedges, to take a furtive -nibble at the brown stubble of last year's cornfields. - -It was half-past nine when Nathan went to his door to look out. Nathan -Monypenny had built himself a lobby, and so was thought to be -"upsetting." At that time for a man to wear a white collar on weekdays, -or to walk with his hands out of his pockets, for a woman to be -"dressed" in the forenoon, or to wear gloves except when actually -entering the kirk door, for a householder to whitewash his premises -oftener than once in five years, or to erect a porch to his dwelling, -was held to be "upsetting"--that is, he (or she) was evidently setting -up to be better than their neighbours--an iniquity as unpopular in -Whinnyliggate as elsewhere in the world. - -From this "upsetting" porch, then, Nathan looked out. A dash of rain, -solid as if the little house had shipped a sea in a perilous ocean -passage, took Nathan about the ankles and rebuked him in a very -practical fashion for coming to the door, as is Galloway custom, in his -"stocking-feet." It had blown in from a broken "roan" pipe, which -Nathan had been intending to mend as soon as the snow went off the root. - -Nathan shut the door and went within. He had seen little through the -blackness save the bright lights of the "Golden Lion," and heard nothing -above the long-drawn _whoo_ of the storm save the noisy chorus of the -drinking song which Doog Carnochan was singing. Nathan knew it was -Doog's voice. About this he could make no mistake. Had he not listened -to it long ago, when Doog sang in the village choir, knowing all the -while, full well, that he was singing his Dahlia's heart out of her -bosom? Nathan Monypenny sighed and thought of that desolate house down -at the other end of the street where that same Dahlia would even then be -putting her children to bed. He knew just the faintly wearied look -there would be on the face from which the youthful roses had long since -faded. He would have given all he possessed in the world to sit and -watch her thus, to comfort her in her loneliness; but, resolutely -putting the temptation aside, he drew the great Bible that had been his -father's off its shelf and laid it on the table. - -Then he brought a new candle from the shop and lighted it. But, so -great was the storm without that even in that comfortable inner room the -draught blew the flame about and the words seemed to dance on the -printed page. - -Again and again during his reading Nathan lifted his head and listened. -The "wag-at-the-wa'" clock struck ten with enormous birr and clatter, -beginning with a buzz of anticipation five minutes too soon, and -continuing to emit applausive "curmurrings" of internal satisfaction for -full five minutes after the actual stroke of the hour had died on the -ear. - -Nathan paused in his reading to listen for the sound of the roysterers' -feet going homeward from the "Golden Lion." Doog would be one of those, -most likely the drunkest and the noisiest. He must be half-way down the -street by now, stumbling along with trippings and foul, irresponsible -words. Now Dahlia would be opening the door to him--Nathan knew the -look on her face. When he shut his eyes he could see it even more -clearly. In the middle dark of the night, when he lay sleepless, -staring at the ceiling, he could see it most clearly of all. - -For this reason he was in no hurry to finish and put out the light; but -it had to be done at last. And then with his head on the pillow Nathan -Monypenny bethought himself with small satisfaction of his wasted life. -Of what use was his house, his money in the bank, his eldership, the -praise of men, the satisfactory state of his ledger? After all, he was -a lonely man, and out there in the rain, dank and dripping, leafless and -forlorn, shivered the hedge over which in golden weather he had lifted -Dahlia Ogilvy. At the rose-bush in the corner she had once let him kiss -her. Ah! but he must not think of that. She was Dahlia Carnochan, and -her drunken husband had just reeled home to her. Yet as he sat and -stared at the red peats on the hearth Nathan Monypenny could think of -nothing else, and how her hair had had a flower-like scent as he drew -her to him that night when (for once in his grey and barren life) the -roses bloomed red and smelled sweet. - -But there was something else which kept Nathan's nerves on the stretch, -something that was not summed up in his thoughts of Dahlia--an -apprehension of impending disaster. Even after he had gone to bed he -lifted his head more than once from the pillow, for his heart, stounding -and rushing in his ears, shut out all other noises. Then he sat up and -listened. He seemed to hear a cry above the roar and swelter of the -storm--a man's cry for help in mortal need. - -Nathan rose and drew on his clothes hurriedly, yet buttoning with his -accustomed carefulness an overcoat closely about him. Then, leaving a -lighted candle on the table, he opened the door and stepped out into the -darkness. The wind met him like a wall. The rain assailed his cheeks -and stunned his ears like a volley of bullets. For a full minute he -stood exposed to the broad fury of the tempest, slashed by the driving -sleet, beaten and deafened into bewilderment by a turmoil of buffeting -gusts. Then, recovering himself a little, he turned aside the lee of -the gable of his cottage, which looked towards the north-east. Here he -was more sheltered, and though the winds still sang stridently overhead, -and the swirls of lashing rain occasionally beat upon him like "hale -water," he could listen with some composure for a repetition of the -sound which had disturbed him. - -There--there it was again! A hoarse cry, ending in a curious gasp and -gurgle of extinction. Nathan almost thought that he could distinguish -his own name. - -He put his hands to his mouth funnel-wise, to form a sort of -rough-speaking trumpet. "Haloo!" he shouted. "Where are you?" - -But it was an appreciable interval before any voice replied, and then it -seemed more like a dying man's moan of anguish than any human tones. - -"It's somebody in the water!" Nathan cried, and rushed down the little -strip of garden which separated his cottage from the Whinnyliggate Burn. -This was ordinarily a clear little rivulet, running lucidly brown and -pleasantly at prattle over a pebbly bed. Boys fished for "bairdies" in -its three-foot-deep pools. Iris and water-lily fringed the swamps where -it expanded into broad sedgy ponds. But in spite of its apparent -innocence, Whinnyliggate Lane was a stream of a dangerous reputation. -Its ultimate source was a deep mountain lake high among the bosoming -hills of Girthon, and when the rains descended and the floods came, it -sometimes chanced that the inhabitants of the village awoke to find that -their prattling babe had become a giant, and that the burn, which the -night before had scarce covered the pebbles in its bed, was now roaring -wide and strong, thirty feet from bank to bank, crumbling their garden -walls, and even threatening with destruction the sacred Midtoon Brig -itself, from time immemorial the Palladium of the liberties and the -Parliament House of the gossip of the village. - -The part of the bank down which Nathan ran was used by the village smith -for the important work of "hooping wheels," or shrinking the iron -"shods" on the wheels of the red farm carts. There were always a few -rusty spare "hoops" of solid iron scattered about, while a general -_débris_ of blacksmithery, outcast and decrepit, cumbered the burnside. - -Before Nathan had gone far he found himself splashing in the rising -water. - -"Loch Girthon has broken its dam!" he murmured; "God help the puir soul -that fa's intil Whinnyliggate Lane this nicht!" - -It was nearly pitch dark, and Nathan Monypenny, standing up to his knees -in the swirl of the flood, called aloud, but got no reply from any human -voice. The forward hurl of the storm whooping overhead, the roar of the -icy torrent fighting with the caving banks beneath, were the only sounds -he could distinguish. - -He was indeed on the point of leaving the water edge and regaining his -comfortable cottage, when, wading through a shallow extension of the -stream near the bridge, his foot struck something soft, which carried -with it a curiously human suggestion. He stopped and laid his hand on -the rough cloth and sodden sock which covered a man's ankle. - -Though not great of stature, Nathan Monypenny was both strong and brave. -He stooped and endeavoured to disentangle the boot from the iron hoop in -which it was caught. Succeeding in this, he next endeavoured to pull -the drowning man out of the water. But the head and upper part of the -body hung over the bank, and were drawn down by the whole force of the -torrent. - -Again and again Nathan strove with all his might, but the water wrenched -and wrestled till the body was almost snatched from his grasp. More than -once, indeed, Nathan came very near going over the verge himself and -sharing the fate of the unfortunate whom he was endeavouring to rescue. - -At last, however, by dint of exertions almost superhuman, he succeeded -in getting the man to the edge of the water, and immediately sank -exhausted on the sodden grass. By-and-bye, however, he staggered up, -and without ever thinking of going to seek for help, he succeeded in -balancing the unconscious burden upon his shoulders and carrying it -staggeringly to his own door. - -The candle he had lighted was still burning, though it seemed to Nathan -that he must have been a very long time away. He let the body fall upon -the settle bed, and then, catching sight of the pale features, dripping -ghastly under the flicker of the farthing dip, he sank dismayed on a -chair. - -It was Doog Carnochan--Dahlia Carnochan's husband. The story was plain -enough. Stumbling homeward from the "Golden Lion," he had missed his -drunken way, and wandered down by the "hooping" place to the water's -edge. - -Nathan stared open-mouthed. What should he do?--go for assistance? -That perhaps had been wisest--yet, to leave a man in whom there might be -some faint spark of life! He rose and stretched Doog's arms out over -his head and back again time after time, as he had once seen a doctor do -on the ice after a curling accident. - -But there was no drawing of breath, nor could he distinguish the least -beating of the heart. He took down the little hand-mirror, which had -satisfied the frugal demands of his toilet all these years, and put it -close to the drowned man's lips. - -Yes--no--it could not be, yet it was just possible that there might be a -faint dimming of the surface of the mirror. - -Then a hot wondrous thought leaped up in Nathan Monypenny's heart--the -devil in the garb of an angel of light. - -What if he were simply to hold his hand--the man was as good as dead -already. - -And what then? There rose up before Nathan Monypenny a vision of the -woman whom he had loved more than life, of a pale and weary face upon -which he would rejoice to bring out the roses as in the days of old. -Happiness would do it, he knew. And, like all true lovers, he believed -that he alone could make that one woman happy. Douglas Carnochan? What -was he but a drunkard who had blighted two lives? If a hand were -stirred to help him now, he would simply go on and finish the fell work -of the years. His Dahlia's face would grow yet more weary, her -shoulders more bent, and her eyes would less seldom be raised from the -ground till on a thrice-welcome day the grave should be opened before -her. Nathan knew it all by heart. - -And this man--why did he deserve to live? Had not he (Nathan) afforded -him every chance? Had he not obtained situation after situation for him? -Had he not, in fact, kept Doog Carnochan and his family for years? -Surely God did not require from him this great final sacrifice. It was -certainly a chance to do lasting good--a happy woman, a happy man, a -happy home! Better, too, (so Nathan told himself) for Douglas -Carnochan's children. He would be a father to them--that which this -their own father had never been. He would train, instruct, place them -in the world. _But--he would be a murderer!_ - - * * * * * - -After an hour's hard work Doog Carnochan sighed. Five minutes more and -he opened his eyes. They twinkled blackly up at his preserver with a -kind of ironical appreciation of the situation, and he smiled. - -"Ah, Nathan," he murmured, "sae it's you that has drawn me oot o' the -black flood water! Man, ye had better hae let weel alane!" - -On this occasion Doog was not a humourist only. He was also a true -prophet. For, from every point of view save that of the Eternal -Decrees, it would indeed have been infinitely better if Nathan had let -well alone, and not wrested back the unstable and degraded spirit of -Douglas Carnochan from the rushing waters of Whinnyliggate Lane, that -January night when Loch Girthon burst its bounds. - -For, as Nathan had forecast, even so it was. Doog promptly returned to -his wallowing in the mire, without even making a pretence of amending -his restored life. Duly he brought down his wife's too early grey hairs -in sorrow to the grave. His children, left to run wild, divided their -time between the "Golden Lion" and the country gaol. Doog drank himself -into an unhonoured grave. Only Nathan Monypenny remains, an old man -now, yet holding firm-lipped to a conviction that God has explanations -of the working of His laws which He refuses to us on this Hither Side, -but which will be granted in full to us when we "know as also we are -known." - -After Doog's death Nathan bought and immediately razed to the ground the -cottage at the foot of the street where Dahlia Carnochan's life tragedy -had been enacted. He has planted a garden of flowers there, to the -scorn and scandal of the whole village, which is cut to its utilitarian -heart to see so much good potato land wasted--simply wasted. - -And every night before Nathan goes to bed he steps quietly to the low -place in the privet hedge, over which he lifted little Dahlia Ogilvy -more than fifty years ago. He does nothing when he gets there. He does -not even pray. He has none to pray for, and he wants nothing for -himself save God's ultimate gift, easeful death, and that, he knows, -cannot long be delayed. - -But if you watch him closely, you may see him lift his hand and rest it -gently upon the stem of an ancient rose-tree, as if he had laid it in -benediction upon a young child's head. - - - - _Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury._ - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STICKIT MINISTER'S WOOING -*** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/49342 - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. -Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this -license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) -electronic works to protect the Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and -trademark. 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