823 A4275J 1897 OF GUSHETNEUK OF^ ^la^NORTHERN T^RURflLLlFEj ^ Zcc JL DAVID DOUGLAS Uijiv. o| I [ L* Llhiriify ' LIBRARY OF THE ^ UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 823 A^275 j 1897 I JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK ; PARISH OP PYKETILLIM A ^ With Glimpses of the Parish Politics about A.D. 1843 I WITH A GLOSSARY mn ^ PREFACE TO THE EIGHTH EDITION. In issuing another edition of ‘^Johnny Gibb/^ it may not be out of place to say that the first edition was published in January, 1871, and that the second followed toward the close of the same year. In 1873 the third edition was issued, with glossary, and the fourth in 1877. An edition de luxe, in royal octavo, with illustrations by George Reid, Esq., R.S.A., en- graved by M. Amand Durand, Paris, was published very early in 1880. In the autumn of 1881 another cheap edition was published, and also an edition in de^ny octavo, with Mr. Reid^s illustrations lithographed. The present edition is therefore the eighth. So much in the way of chronology. It only remains to repeat, with a feeling of reasonable satisfaction, what has been said before, “ that the continued demand for the little book is taken as an indication that the native character and pure Doric of Aberdeenshire still possess a fresh interest for a very considerable number of readers f and to express the hope that, upon this consideration, some one with the requisite tastes, and a little leisure at command, may be induced to enter the same tempting field, if only to pick up some of the abundant gleanings that yet remain, but which, in a comparatively short time, through the progress of our cosmopolitan civilisation, will have vanished from human sight and ken, in concrete form at least. October, 1884. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. JOHNNY GIBB SETS OUT FOR THE WELLS, II. THE JOURNEY TO THE WELLS, III. RUSTIC COURTSHIP, .... IV. JOHNNY GIBB’s POLITICAL EDUCATION, V. LIFE AT THE WELLS, . . . [ VI. MRS. BIRSE OF CLINKSTYLE, VII. BACK FROM THE WELLS, VIII. TAM MEERISON FLITS, . , IX. PEDAGOGICAL, . . , , X. BENJIE’s classical STUDIES, . XI. THE KIRK ROAD, •...** XII. THE SMIDDYWARD PRAYER MEETING, XIII. THE DISTRIBUTION MEETING— ECCLESIASTICAL XIV. TAM MEERISON’s PRIVATE AFFAIRS, XV. SANDY PETERKIN’s SCHOOL, XVI. A START IN LIFE, ... XVII. SANDY PETERKIN IS WARNED, XVIII. THE PUBLIC MEETING, ... XIX. MEG RAFFAN, THE HENWIFE, . XX. MRS. BIRSE AND HER OWN, . XXL PATIE’s PLUSH WAISTCOAT, . XXII. MAINLY POLEMICAL, . XXIII. JONATHAN TAWSE AND DAWVID HADDEN XXIV. PREPARING FOR THE CONFLICT, XXV. THE GUSHETNEUK MEETING, XXVI. SANDY PETERKIN’s FORTUNE, XXVII. MAINS OF YAWAL AT THE SYNOD XXVIII. THE FREE KIRK OP PYKETILLIM XXIX. A CHANGE OP TIME, XXX. MEG BAPPAN ENTERTAINS DAWVID HADDEN, ' XXXI. THE ELECTION OF ELDERS, . . 9 14 . . 19 . 25 . . 30 , 35 . . 40 . 46 . . 53 . 59 . . 64 70 OPINIONS, 77 . 83 88 . 93 99 . . 104 . 114 . . 120 . 125 . . 129 134 . 139 144 . 153 158 . 163 168 . 172 176 CONTENTS. VIH COAPTER [II. DAWVID HADDEN VISITS AT CLINKSTYDE . [II. THE merchant’s SHOP, ^ IV. DAWVID HADDEN EEPOETS TO SIR SIMON ’ Z' T f me. MACOASSOCK. ’ 71. THE SETTIN’ ’’ OP ODSHETNEUK [I. CLINKSTYLE AGAIN, . . * ’ ‘ [I. meg eappan goes to the SHOP * X. patie’s wedding, . » • * . L. THE “news ” OF THE MARRIAGE, I. THE MANSE SCHEME, . . * ‘ t. SIR SIMON INSTRUCTS DAWVID HADDEN t. DAWVID HADDEN CONSULTS THE HENWIPE . JOHNNY GIBB DISCUSSES THE SITUATION ’ ’ . DAWVID HADDEN MAKES TWO BUSINESS CALLS ’ . HAIRRY MUGGART goes to “ THE TOON ” ’ JOHNNY GIBB MAKES HIS WILL, . ^ the climax op gentility, the conclusion, JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK JOHNNY GIBB SETS OUT FOR THE WELLS. §^?EELY, heely, Tam, ye glaiket stirk — ye hinna on the hin shelvin’ o’ the cairt. Fat hae ye been haiverin at, min ? That cauff saick ’ll be @t)owre the back door afore V we win a mile fae hame. See ’t yer belly-ban’ Bel'icht aneuch noo. Woo, l assie! _Ma^ , ye been makin’ a hantle mair adee about d3laikin)that^raTtl?V>’ yours, ahHcaimin the mear’s tail, ( nor balancin’ yer cairt, an’ gettin’ the things packit iiL^l ’t.” ‘‘ Sang, that’s nae vera easy deen.^ I can tell ye, wi’ sic a mengyie o’ them. Faur’ll aw pit the puckle girss to the mear ?” Ou, fat ’s the eese o’ that lang tstou^ ahin, aw wud like tae ken ? Lay that bit bank across, an’ syne tak’ the aul’ pleuch ryn there, an’ wup it ticht atween the staysT we canna hae the beast’s maet trachel’t amo’ their feet . Foo muckle corn pat ye in ?” ~ ^ Four lippies— gweed— mizzour — will that dee ‘^We’se lat it be^~ 3 eein. Is their trock a’ in noo, I won’er ?” Nyod, seerly^it is.” It was in the latter part of June, 1839, ^.nd Johnny Gibb was preparing to set out on his annual journey to “ the Walls at Macduff.” ^ He was, at the moment of the reader’s intro- duction to him, employed, with the assistance of his servant man, Tam Meerison, in ^^jyo kin ’ the cairt,” preparatory to starting en route. The time was 4.30 a.m. Johnny Gibb was the tacksman of Gushetneuk, a two- horse haudjn ” on the property of Sir Simon Frissal of Glen» snicker ; and he and his wife had spent the greater part of a very industrious lifetime on the place. lO JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. Mrs. Gibb, in personal appearance, looked to be a woman somewhere approaching sixty, in an exceedingly good state of preservation. Dumpy in figure, inclining slightly to obesity in ‘‘ condition,” and with cheeks of the exact hue of a high- coloured apple, she was, nevertheless, understood to be far fae stoot she was, indeed, nervish,” and apt to take drows.” Hence this yearly resort to the Wells at Macduff, renowned for their restorative and invigorating virtues, had come to be a necessity for her. When Johnny Gibb had go\^ the ^^ neeps d oon ” he took his carts to the mill-dam, had them backed into the water, where they were first well soaked and then scrubbed clean, after the defilement of driving out the ‘‘neep muck.” And then one of the first things, ordinarily, was to prepare for the journey to the Wells. In the district where Johnny Gibb lived, they believed in the Wells, old and young of them. Elderly people, male and female, went to Macduff to benefit by the bracing effects of sea-bathing, combined with a course more or less rigorous of sea water taken internally, followed up by the mineral water of Tarlair ; sturdy bairns were taken thither in troops for the cure of s cabb it faces ” and sic like ;” youths and maidens, whose complaints seemed often not of a deadly nature, went to the Wells as they could contrive to get ; Jamie Hogg went there for the benefit of his ‘‘sair een ;” Peter Tough to miti- gate the rheumatics ;” Mains of Yawal, when he had occa- sion to ^^gae doon throu” on business, actually drove his square wooden-looking gig five miles out of his direct route in order that he might have ldifi.wportunity of merely once dookin ” at Macduff. He ‘^IqwsJ^ the gig and put his horse in to rest and feed, and I recollect distinctly seeing his tall gaunt figure in bottle-green surtout, as, despising ceremony, he strode away straight down from the fisher town, or rather the ropery, through hillocks of slippery ware and knablick stanes ” till he found water enough to dook ” in ; and a tedious walk he had, for the tide was out The modus operandi of Mains’s dookin ” was, that he first laid aside his hat and the bottle-green surtout, and, by the aid of a good handful of sea- ware” scrubbed the upper part of his person. He then resumed the hat and surtout, and divesting himself of the remaining part of his garments, completed the opera- tion in the like fashion. The farm servants even, were fain to follow the prevailing custom ; and this, their belief, had not been discouraged by the physician in ordinary, the elder Dr. D rogemweal. The doctor had a semi-military reputation, inas- JOHNNY GIBB SETS OUT FOR THE WELLS. II much as, when the first Bonaparte was disturbing people by threats of invading our Island and so on, the doctor had been attached to the local militia ; and he was wont to accompany the ''fencibles '' to Fraserburgh at the time of their annual drill. It was related of him how he would make the delinquent soldier drink a quart-bottle of sea water by way of punish- ment, believing that, while the thing had a penal effect, it also conserved the man’s constitution. To his latest day, when a ^ ‘‘chap” went to him for advice, he would prescribe “ twa ^ unc^ o’ salts ,” and, if the case were grave, would take out his lance ’’ and bleed him ; winding up by a general exhortation to go to the Wells the first opportunity. And thus, in the very year before that of which I am about to write, when Johnny Gibb went over to Pitmachie to “fee” a man, he en- countered a “ stoot young folia,” from the Upper Garioch, who would suit his purpose admirably well, but was deter- mined to have “ sax poun’ ten ” of fee. Johnny offered “ sax poun”’ and a shilling of “arles,” after much “ threepin,” as his ultimatum. They “ tuggit, an’ ruggit ” to no purpose, till at last a compromise was reached, and the bargain concluded, on the “chap” throwing in this stipulation, “Wed, weel, than, aw ’ll tak’ the siller. ; but ye rnaun gi’e ’s an ouk at the ~f- Walls aifter the neep seed.” Such was the repute of the Wells at Macduff in my day, but that is long ago ; and to me the modern Macduff is a place all but totally unknown. ‘‘ Come awa’, noo ; come awa’, an’ nae loss the mornin’,” continued Johnny Gibb, in an impatient tone — patience was not Johnny’s prime virtue,— when he had satisfied himself that the cart was properly packed and adjusted. His words were addressed, in the first place, to Mrs. Gibb, who had been “hoverin’” between the door and the kitchen for some time, one part of her thoughts resting on Johnny and the cart, and another on Jinse Deans, the servant girl, to whom she con- tinued still to address another and another exhortation, to be sure “ an’ plot ’er milk dishes weel, in this bvous weather ; an^t the l^.pitt^ oot ear’,” so that they might “get a 4^^ mou’fir, an’ win in afore they ran aheat ; ” to see that “the caufies warna negleckit ” and give due heed to sundry other matters that concerned the proper ongoing of the place during the absence of its mistress. Mrs. Gibb was dressed in a home-made grey wincey gown, a very precisely made up and very well starched close “ mutch ” (they were old-fashioned people the Gibbs), and a 12 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. tartan plaid that had been in the family for at least a genera- tion. She was assisted into the cart with due ceremony, and with the help of a chair — Jinse, the trusty, bare-headed, bare- armed maid, handing up after her a reticule basket, crammed with provisions for consumption on the way, and a big blue umbrella. Faur^JJae lassie noo ?” quoth Johnny. i feaiy er rin roun’ the neuk o’ the wood a filie syne, to s§midd^ard,To see^t Eppie was up, an’ nae keep ’s wytin.” ^ That ’ll dee. Go on, Jess,” and Johnny pulled the whip from the britcKSi as he spoke. ‘‘Ye may be luikin for me hame afore sindoon the morn’s nicht .” “ Weel, weel, tak’ care o’ yersel’s,” replied Tam Meerison . as he turned leisurely away to complete his stable operations, and “ tie his points,” before he and the servant “ Icu^n,” who was not yet out of bed, should call on Jinse for their “ pottage.” I have not yet described Johnny Gibb’s personal appear- ance, and, if the reader in the least cares to know, let me say that he was a short, thick-set man, or “ mannie ” rather, with broad, sun-tanned countenance, whereof the shaggy eyebrows, and somewhat large, but well-set mouth, were not the least prominent features. He was slightly bow-legged, which rather added to the stability of his appearance ; his dress was blue home-spun, crowned with a blue bonnet, for though Johnny was not a man who would altogether ignore the deference due to the conventionalities of society, he averred that “ that hats is a p erfect- Jiiert vreesin to the heid, oonless them ’t ’s wearin’ them (daily dax^ ” And so it came to pass that, ex- cept on the occasion of a funeral, or the Communion Sunday, J ohnny’s hat was seldom to be seen. And my private opinion is that, even on these occasions, it had been better left in its usual limbo. It was such an uncouthly shaped, brown, and hairy structure, that Johnny was hardly recc^n i sablgunder it; he certainly looked much better and more'^^feg tefan^ ’ in his blue bonnet. As J ohnny strode stoutly on alongside of his bonny bay mare, Jess, “ ilka blade o’ grass ” tipped with its “ ain drap . o’ dew,” and the “ orient sun ” just beginning to struggle through masses of grey cloud, and to gild the tree tops with occasional glimpses of his face, while the lark poured forth his song overhead in streams of rich melody, and a stray hare now and then hirpled up the dykeside — the scene was, undoubtedly, one fresh enough, and lovely enough to stir the blood of any but the most mouldy and ungrateful of human beings. JOHNNY GIBB SETS OUT ^OR THE WELLS. 13 Round the corner of the wood from Gushetneuk, and a little beyond where a trotting burnie came down the hollow, there stood a sniall hamlet, consisting of about half-a-dozen unpretending edifices, scattered here and there, and including the smith’s and shoemaker’s places of abode and workshops, with an old-fashioned “ toon loan ” fringed by a few large ash and plane-trees. At the top of the loan there was a very rustic-looking schoolhouse, and one or two small ^^rape- thackit ” cottages. This was SmMdyward. By the roadside here, there" stood waiting the arrival of the cart, Eppie Will, “ a widow ^pm^,” and friend of Mrs. Gibb, her only son, Jock, a fite heidet ” youth of fourteen or thereby, tender eyed, with a bandage round his head longitudinally, and tightly encased from head to foot in a suit of grey moleskin, gar- nished with abundance of brass buttons. With them stood a girl of about Jock’s age, dressed almost as quaintly as Jock, though, with feminine tact, she had set off her primitive ging- ham frock for the occasion with a fresh nosegay pinned in the front. In point of physical features, too, she had the advan- tage of him ; in contrast to Jock’s rather flabby face and sheepish look, “the lassie,” as Johnny and Mrs. Gibb invari- ably called her, had a face which, though somewhat high in point of colour, possessed that regularity of feature, and pleasantness of contour, which, in a different rank of life, would have been held to give promise of ultimately maturing into unmistakable womanly beauty. “The lassie,” whose name was Mary Howie, was the niece of Mrs. Gibb ; and being the daughter of parents whose poverty, if not their wills, could very well consent to spare her, she had become, in a sort, the adopted child of the Gibbs, who had no family of their own. Johnny Gibb stopped Jess, got the whole “ hypothec ” into the cart ; and then, mounting the “ fore breist ” himself, started again, fairly under way for the Wells. ' CHAPTEE II. THE JOURNEY TO THE WELLS. need were, I could describe the entire course of the ^ journey from Gushetneuk to the Wells at Macduff. But perhaps to do so would be an undue trifling with a busy public, whose manner of travelling, for health and pleasure, as well as for business, is so different now. The railway system ” had not penetrated to Aberdeen even, then. Long strings of carriers^ carts, jogging on night and day, each with its creel atop, and here and there a jolly carrier lying in the same half or wholly asleep, and, perhaps, a more watchful mastiff under the axletree — these did the heavy and slow part of the business ; and then there was the mail coach, and the rattling Defiance,^^ and now and again such a vehicle as the ‘‘Tallyho,’^ for speedy conveyance of passengers, at the aver- age rate of eight miles an hour, stoppages not always in- cluded ; also the '' Flyboat,'' or '' Swift Gig Boat," plying on the Aberdeenshire Canal, whose sideway draught, to the un- fortunate horses that ran on the bank, with a '‘laddie" rider, dexterously " jpukin" inward and downward at every villain- ously low bridge under which they went, was the extreme of cruelty to animals. These things are not only obsolete, but almost completely forgotten, and the idlest, laziest man in the shire grumbles loudly at the unconscionably slow rate of those trains that do not run faster than twenty miles an hour. Such is the progress of the human race ; not to speak of the electric telegraph which threatens to land us in a material millennium before we have had time to abrogate the Ten Com- mandments, and do whatever else advanced minds may think needful to getting our moral equilibrium steadied at a point commensurate with the advance of natural science. However, I must return to Johnny Gibb, who, in ^aking a " near cut " at the outset, had guided his cart and its freight through one or two " yetts, " the bars of which he took pain- fully out, and put as pmnfully in again, and after gaining the THE JOURNEY TO THE WELLS. high road, had received the salutations of sundry servant lads, early out on their way to the peat moss, from which they were already returning with loaded carts. By-and-by, the voya- gers ” had passed out of kent bounds ” — bounds kent ” to the junior passengers, that is to say, for to Johnny Gibb the whole way was as familiar as his oxter pouch ; ” and great was the delight of the lassie and Jock Will, as the scene changed and changed, and first one gentleman’s seat, and then another, came in view. And Johnny would tell the names of these, and, in sententious phrase, give a brief sketch of the owners. ‘‘Ay, ay, the fa^ o’ ’im was a lang-heidit schaimin ? <^arle) an’ weel fells^me^n for that,” was~tFe remark in one case, and in the next, “ A (bra^ hoose that, isnint ? But, an’ ilka ane had their nain , I wudna say nor the laird wud hae to forhoo ’s bit bonny nest.” ..." “Eh, sirs : sjc a weary war die,” said Eppie Will. “Fa cud ’a thocht it ?” “ The half o’ oor lairds is owre the l^s in a bag o’ ^ debt. I wud hae them roupit oot at the door, and set to 5 some eesefLL trade.” “ Na, sirs,” ejaculated Eppie ; and Mrs. Gibb put in a deprecatory “ Hoot man !” “ S^hin up a kwintra side wi’ them, wi’ their peer stinkin’ pride,” pursued Jolinny, “an’ them nedder able to manage their awcres themsel’s, nor can get ither f pwk that can dee! t for thenu Ye’re luikin , Jock ; gin ever ye be^^ctor, loon, see an’ l eern the eese o’ the grun, an’ keept^Saith laird an’ tenan’ straucht i’ the theets.” ^ } “ Eh, John Gibb ; for shame to the laddie,” quoth Eppie Will. Jock himself gave a soft laugh, looked askance, and rubbed the chaff sack with the palm of his hand. And thus they moved on mile after mile. “ Gi’e the bairns a bit piece noo, ’oman,” continued Johnny, changing the theme, when they hadjp^neyed for a matter of three hours ; “ the like o’ them ^s'^^^ap, an’ it ’ll be twall iU- o’clo ck ere w e win do on to Turra to ^ws^ !^” ‘tJ^L^Xhat noo, Eppie ?” said Mrs. Gibb, affecting the ^ joculan “ T hat ’s to Im ’ imsel’ get a g^p. no !” y ' “ A\^l, sae be ’t. It ’s an ijl^servan’ ’t’s nae worth ’s(^ iae& Here ’s~ Tbit co blie o’ fine clear C^alleE ) water ; we ’ll gi’e the beast a drink, an’ 1^ ’er get a mou’fu’ d’ girss till we see fat ’s i’ that bit basketie .” And so Jess was set to the grassy bank, with a wisp of i6 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. U- half-dried hay strewn before her, and the “bearin’ reins” thrown loose Mrs Gibb produced an abundant store of spread, and the cakes placed face to face, with seveial kneevlicks ” of tempting blue cheese. The party regalea tnemselves sumptuously on their wholesome treateT'^ drank of the caller water to which “Jess ” had been imperfect acquaintance with philosophy of locomotion, who shall affect to sneer rl, ? K Gibb and his charge journeyed. Grant but fitting company, favourable weather, a fair allow- ance of fresh straw, and the art of man hath not yet devised a inore rational and truly enjoyable method of “ voyaging ” bv land than by the use of a common cart, drawn by a willing fn practised visitors to the Wells had an intuitive perception ; if reliance on it was not, indeed, essential to the integrity of their belief in the en- tire institution. And how well they could furnish out the cart tor the comfortable accommodation and sustenance of those vyho journeyed therein ! Time would fail me to speak of the compendious outfit they could stow away within and about the vehicle. I recollect well seeing one arrival of a large family, the head of which had boxed up^^ the sides of his cart with rough boards till he had achieved a kind of two storeys, the ground floor containing sundry kitchen utensils, and the upper one the live passengers ; and he had actually built m a fixed stair m the hind part of the cart » But this was an extreme experiment, and the usual mode was simply to pack well on the basis of the cart itself. ^ ^ Resuming their journey, the party plodded on through the romantic den of Cask, and down on the handsome little town of Turriff, with its bleachfield along the quiet burn side and Its common herd, who touted his horn as he wended along and ^u^ gathered out the town^s kine to feed on the pleasant^^hgE^ adjoining. At Turriff, Jo'^hy the mare, and put up for re- freshment at the Black Buirinn, where he and the hostlei mscussed a gill of the national liquor, very amicably, between drink for the ladies, he called a bottle of mulled porter ; and, leaving them to sip and sip of the same m the little back parlour of the Inn, with its sanded floor and crockery-shop statuary, he sallied forth to exhibit the lions of the place to the youngsters, not omitting to point out to them the Toon’s Hoose ; ” and the « Cross/* THE JOURNEY TO THE WELLS. 17 the geographical position of which he took care to explain, as equally distant from Aberdeen and Elgin. As saith the popular distich — ** Choose ye, choise ye, at the Cross 0’ Turra, Either gang to Aberdeen, or Elgin o’ Moray.” That was a delightsome road down by Knockiemill, and along the pleasant banks of the Deveron, in full view of For- glen House, Denlugas, and so forth. This Johnny Gibb knew, and he preferred it to '' the toll road” accordingly. I do not know that he escaped a toll by adopting this route, for there was a passport system in force in those days, where- by the man who went through the Turriff bar was armed with a ticket that gave him the privilege of passing the next bar without pecuniary mulct. However that may be, the water- side road was chosen as the more picturesque — a most legiti- mate consideration surely with those who travelled for health and pleasure. Up they came again near by Eden, along the turnpike road for some miles, and again diverging to the Johnny and his cart went under the westering sun till the hill-top was reached ; when, lo ! there lay before them' the calm blue sea, with slight ripples of white here and there, and here and there on its bosom a brave schooner scudding along the Firth, with fully spread canvas, or a boat, with brown sail newly hoisted, speeding away from the harbour lay sundry craft, the top-masts of which were fully visible as the eye wandered inward over the irregular field of red-tiled roofs, and settled on the vista afforded by the mng steep street leading down to the shore. Eh, that^s the sea !” exclaimed the lassie in a rapture of admiration. ^ " Is ’t the sea, mith^.?” said Jock, not quite assured. It ^s surely nae that colour ^Deed an^ it ^s the saut sea, whaur mony ane ^s gotten a watery shrood.” — see the ships sailin’ on’t?” said the lassie. Weel, they’re nae vera muckle anes,” replied Jock. ^ But they’re maybe hyne awa’.” '' Ho ! but a muckle ship sud hae three masts,” said Jock, desirous of vindicating his nautical knowledge, ^^an’ nane o’ tn^ has mair nor twa.” “ Will we get a sail on ’t ?” was the lassie’s next question. 1 lassie, ye little ken fat ye ’re speakin’ o’. Lat alane the fear o’ the boat coupin an’ you gyaun to the boddom 1 8 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. o' the sea, ye wud seen be as deid' s a door nail wi' sea-sick- ness." And Mrs. Gibb, as a warning to the young people to beware of trusting themselves on the bosom of the heaving deep, related how, long ago, when Johnny and she were young, and Johnny headstrong and reckless, he would himself and his wife conveyed from Macduff to Banff by water ; and what of peril and fright the voyage involved, the boat rising up and down on its very ends, and leaning over till the spray actually skirpit " her face, while, to crown all, the monster of a skipper sat coolly at his helm laughing at her terror. As this crack went on in the cart, Johnny stumped along by Jess's head, scanning the countenances of those he met, in search of any stray kent face.'' By-and-by his eye caught a formal inscription, in the usual street-corner style, Duff Street.'' ''Fat whigmaleerie 's this noo ?'' quoth Johnny. ^ The fowk o' this place wud ca' their vera tykes aifter the Yerl o' Fife. This is fat we hed ees't to ca' the ' Main Street' — Duff Street ; fat sqirajther.'' The explanation was that, since Johnny's last journey to the Wells, the good people of Macduff had adopted the modern practice of systematically naming and numbering their streets. It was then in the region of Market Street, I do not say that it was in that particular thoroughfare itself, that Johnny found a lodging-house for his charge. Their landlord was Donald M'Craw,ablindold pensioner, who had followed the gallant Abercromby into Egypt, and whose in- dustrious helpmeet occupied her leisure time in keeping a dame's school in the kitchen of their habitation. And while she energetically pursued her pedagogical duties among her noisy charge, the blind Donald was wont to sit in his arm chair in the corner, a not uninterested listener to what was going on, and always ready at an emergency to come in full shout with his military word of command to enforce obedi- ence or silence, as the case might be. CHAPTEE IIL RUSTIC COURTSHIP. f AM MEERISON had been servant to Johnny Gibb only from the term of Whitsunday, that is to say, for about three weeks previous to the date of which I have iDeen writ- ing. He was a stout fellow of six or seven and twenty, with a broad, good-natured face, and straggling, but very promis- ing whiskers of light complexion fringing his cheeks. On his head he wore a sort of nondescript blue bonnet, and going downward on his person you found a remarkably substantial sleeved vest of moleskin and a pair of cord trousers, narrow at the knees, and spreading somewhat about the ankles, with about half-a-dozen buttons at bottom overhanging the heavy ‘^beetikin^^ on either foot. The servant lass, Jinse Deans, a sedate-looking, red-haired damsel of fully Tam’s age, had been a resident at Gushetneuk for a couple of twelvemonths by-gone ; and when Johnny had set out for the Wells the two were master and mistress of the place for the time being. Tam pursued his work industriously afield through the day, along with the “ o^^ man,” Willie M^Aul, a youth of sixteen or seventeen, and son of the souter of Smiddyward. When six o’clock p.m. had come, Tam incontinently lows’t.” Then came supper of(EaIpand kail brose, of which the three par- took in company, amid no little badinage, consisting mainly of equivocal compliments to Jinse on her housekeeping capa- bilities, from Willie M^Aul, or as he was more commonly de- signated, the loon,” who was of that particular character fitly described as “a roy’t nickum.” Tam next lighted his pipe and blew clouds of smoke to the kitchen roof, as he watched Jinse ^‘washing up” her dishes, an operation which Jinse invariably performed with an amount of clattering and noise that made the beholder marvel how it happened that she did not break at least one half of the crockery as it passed through her hands. Whether Tam was admiring Jinse’s dex- terity and vigour in going through her work or not I cannot say ; I rather think, at any rate^ that Jinse was not altogether 20 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUR. unconscious that she was making a considerable display of these qualities before the new ploughman. At last she had finished, when, addressing ''the loon,'' she said— " Gae 'wa', ye haveril, an' fesh hame the kye, till I get them milk^" An' fat 'll aiy get for that, Jinse '' Gin ye get fat ye deserve, ye winna braig aboot it." ^ Wud ye gi'e's a kiss gin aw war to dee't?" "Ye 're a bonny ablich to seek a kiss. I 'se rug yer lugs t' ye gin ye dinna gae this minit." " H oot man, ye 've nae pluck ava," exclaimed Tam, as " the loon retreated towards the door to escape from Jinse, who had shown a distinct intention of suiting the action to the word. " Canna ye t^' a grip o' 'er ?" "I wudna advise you to dee that, Tam, or ye'll maybe jRn_t she s a sauter," replied Willie, as he marched off for the cows. Later in the evening, when the cows had been milked the calves properly attended to, and the work of the day fully concluded, Johnny Gibb's three servants were to be seen loitering about the kitchen door, and talking over the " countra clatter." Tam, who was seated on the big " beetlin'' stone by the door cheek, had spoken once and again of going to bed, and had given " the loon " emphatic warning of the ex- pediency of his immediately seeking repose, as he might de- pend on it that he, Tam, would pull him out of the blankets by the heels if he were not up by five o'clock next morning. Notwithstanding his urgency with "the loon," Tam himself did not give any distinct indication of hurrying to bed. Bui as "the loon" failed to "oblemper " his repeated hints, he af last started to his feet, and went clanking across the cause* way and up the trap stair to the " chaumer " over the stable. And, while the loon" proceeded to undress, Tam yawned once and again portentously. He then, very deliberately, wound up his watch, and, seating himself on his " ki^" be- gan, by-and-by, to " sowff " over " My love she's but a lassie yet." When he had got Willie fairly into bed, Tam next rose, and, under pretence of going to the stable, slipped down the trap and out by the door, which he quietly locked to make sure that Willie M'Aul would not follow him. In somewhat less than two minutes thereafter, Tam Meerison and Jinse Deans were seated side by side on the " deece " in Johnnv Gibb's kitchen. ^ I don't know all what Tam Meerison said to Jinse Deans RUSTIC COURTSHIP. 21 that summer gloamim” How should I ? The whispers of lovers are hardTo'cSch. Nor am I able to say how far Johnny Gibb would have approved of the sort of sederunt that took place on this occasion, in his absence, between his servant maid and his servant man. But certain it is that this was not the first time that Jinse had been wooed in a similar manner, and in that same place. Not by the same wooer, certainly, for until three weeks ago she had been utterly unaware that such a man as Tam Meerison existed. At any rate, if Jinse saw no harm in receiving a little at- tention from an additional sweetheart, Tam, evidently, found her company the reverse of disagreeable. The time fled swiftly past, as it is wont to do in such circumstances. It had worn on to twelve o’clock, to one o’clock, and the lonely V corncraijj, which had so long kept up its r^_p;ng, yet cheery"^ ^ note^'t^reak the stillness of the summer twilight, had at last ceased its cry, and gone to sleep. It was still and quiet as quiet could be, when footsteps were surely heard approaching the house of Gushetneuk. Wheest !” exclaimed Jinse, in a low whisper. Fat’s that ? — I hear a fit, ” Nonsense,” said Tam, It ’s some o’ the horse i’ the park at the back o’ the hoose.” ^^It’s naething o’ the kin’. Here, I say — there’s some- body cornin’ up the close ! In aneth the deece wi’ ye this minit !” whispered Jinse, in great excitement. Tam felt there was nothing for it but to do as he was bid ; not that he liked the idea of doing it, or that his judgment was fully convinced of the propriety of the course prescribed, but he failed in getting up any valid negative to oppose to Jinse’s urgency ; and so, giving way to the force of her ex- hortation, Tam proceeded to squeeze his inconveniently-bulky person under the deece,” among a horde of old shoes, dilapi- dated brooms, and sic like,” with all the celerity he could s^hieve. And he was not a moment too soon, for the head and shoulders of some person were already dimly discernible at the front window. The deece stood opposite to this window, at the back wall. A tap or two on the pane were immediately heard, followed by a loudly- whispered Jinse !” Now, Jinse’s position at the moment a little awkward. With womanly tact she had remained by the deece to cover Tam’s retreat, which had been accomplished with tolerable success ; but here there were one, if not two pairs of eyes staring through the uncurtained window, and there was yet 22 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. light enough to enable the owners of those eyes to follow the movements of any one inside, and even to discover their whereabouts, if they happened to be fully in view of the win- dow, which the occupant of the deece unluckily was. She hesitated, yet remained still ; but the call was persistently kept up, ‘'Jinse, I'm sayin', Jinse !" Jinse's wits could scarcely have been calmed to the point of keeping continued silence under the increasingly-violent demand of the assail- ants of the window to have audience of her ; to pretend that she was in bed was hopeless, and so, starting up in a fashion to knock over one or two chairs and stools —not a bad feint either— Jinse advanced to the window, and indignantly de- manded what the midnight brawlers wanted. ''Ou, Jinsie, 'oman, dinna tak' the huff— nae fear o' the aul cock the nicht. We ken (bra^, that Gushets an"s wife ^ 's awa' fae hame." Flut - he r they be awa' fae hame or no, ye hae nae bizness cornin' here at this time o' nicht disturbin' fowk. " ^ Wus ye sleepin' terrible soun', Jinse ^^Sleepin'!" exclaimed a second voice; ^^the fowk o’ Gushetneuk sleeps noo oot o' their beds, an' wi' a' their claes on !" And at this sally of wit the two men laughed loudly. ''Gae'wa' this minit, I tell ye," exclaimed Jinse, with in- creased vehemence. I \yauger she has a man wi' ^ the ja^" was the only reply that proceeded from the first speaker. Jinse, who either did not hear, or pretended not to hear, this remark, then, in a rather less indignant tone, asked, ''Fat I are ye wunti n here, I 'm sayin' "Fat ar?we wuntin! Wuntin in tae see ye, Jinse ; fat ither," said the voice that had spoken most. " Gae awa' hame, I tell ye." But, at this juncture, Jinse, to her great horror, heard the latch of the door softly lifted, and the door itself, which of purse had never been locked, evidently opening— a doubtful illustration, I daresay, of the saying that "love laughs at locksmiths." Before she could hinder it the two men were inside, and advancing towards the kitchen. They were quite well known to Jinse to be two of the servants at the farm of Mains of Yawal — one of them, indeed, averred that he had been "here afore"— but, for all this, it was decidedly incon- venient to have them in the house with the avowed intention of searching out the man who, as they asserted, was there be- fore them, and all to see "fat like" he was. RUSTIC COURTSHIP. 23 Faur hae ye pitten ^im noo, Jinsie ?” exclaimed the more demonstrative of the two; ^^jist telFs, ^oman — we winna, hurt I say ! ” cried Jinse, excitedly, endeavouring to push him back. “Jock, min,” continued the man, addressing his friend, who had not yet emerged from the “ trance ; ” Jock, canna ye come ben an’ gi’e Jinse the fawvour o’ yer company. Oh- ho ! he ’ll be i’ the bed, I wauger,” and the fellow darted across, and opened the doors of the “bun” bed in which Johnny Gibb’s servant maid slept. Partly through vexation and excitement, partly perhaps as a stroke of policy, Jinse had now resort to a woman’s last defence — her tears. Her tormentor, failing to find the man he had groped for in the bed, and with his compunctions slightly stirred, perhaps, seized her round the neck. “ Weel-a-wuns, than, Jinsie,” exclaimed the equivocal comforter, “ we’se lat ’im rest ’s banes i u^peace an’ quaetness saying which he swung Jinse round, and they both together came down on the deece with ponderous force. Now, Johnny Gibb’s deece, though a substantial piece of furniture on the whole, did yield slightly, perhaps, under severe pres- sure ; and, moreover, in the process of pushing himself under it, Tam had unsettled the deece from the two fragments of thin slate on which its front legs stood. The result of this was that, inasmuch as Tam Meerison was bulky enough to require in any case all the accommodation he could find be- tween the deece seat and the floor, the “doosht” of the two persons falling on it had the effect of bringing his person into such violent contact with a three-cornered ironing “ heater,” which happened to be under him, that Tam uttered an in- voluntary “ Go-ch !” with considerable emphasis. The gene- ral noise going on fortunately prevented this exclamation being heard ; but, as Tam lay there a very close prisoner in- deed, without the power of stirring a hair’s-breadth, the sweat gathered on his brow plentifully, and he began seriously to reflect what was to be the end of it, for the second man had now also taken his seat on th£L4£^c^5 horrible pictures of being squeezed as flat as rose in his mind ; still he hoped the deece would hold c®fand so long as it did so, he might hold out too, seeing he certainly had not more than half the super-imposed burden to sustain. No doubt it was a weary lie for Tam, for a full hour and a half had elapsed before Jinse managed to get rid of the tw^ 24 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. intru^rs. In the course of the conversation overhead of him, Tam had the pleasure of hearing his sweetheart ques- tioned m a very direct and unceremonious fashion about himself, under the title of Gushets^ new man,” the interro- ptor adding, as his own private opinion, ''He's a queer- leulqn hurb, at ony pte.” It need hardly be said that Jinse answered discreetly in the circumstances. When the unsought visitors had left, I daresay she and her companion exchanged some words of mutual congratula- tion and comfort ; but day-light was already showing itself and the feelings of both Tam and Jinse had been too rudely disturbed to admit of their settling down again at that time to a quiet and loving conference. Tam hung about for a little after he had risen from below the deece, and spoke widely of giving the two disturbers of his enjoyment their ' kail throu' the reek some day,” and then he slipped out to the stable, and crept cannily up the " chaumer ” stair. Tam had hoped to get quietly to bed, at any rate ; but, just as he had ^deposited the last article of his removable garments on his kist lid, and stood in nocturnal attire, ready to creep in amongst ^'the plaids,” his bed-fellow, Willie M'Aul, turned himself with a drowsy " gr^e,” and muttered, " Ay, ay ! ye 're a gey boy, cornin' to yer bed at three o'clock i' the mornin'.”— ’ '‘Hau^yer jaw, min !” was Tam's abrupt response. CHAPTEE IV. JOHNNY GIBB’S POLITICAL EDUCATION. me thus far has, I hope obtaiMd a sort of general notion of Johnny Gibb’s cnaracter; but, while the worthy fanner of Gushetneuk is jogging leisurely home from Macduff in the cart all abne leaving his charge to enjoy their eight-days’ bathing dll he should return again for them, I may be allowed to indicate a little further the stamp of man that Johnny was neuk bv"H;°rfrT/B circumstances the goodman of Gushet- neuk, by dint of honest industry and the possession of a reasonably-conditioned old “tack,” had come long Z t?be very comfortable. He had the repute, indeed, of be^g rich but to what figure his wealth really reached nobody^ could exactly say, or even very definitely guess, because he and his goodwife belonged to that worthy and uAsophisticate^order of people-now becoming rare, I fear-with whom incSse of wealth brings no change either in tastes or habits of life j ohnny s table was not, in any noticeable degree, more sump- ban’s ” A * “ ® beyond the mere “lawbpur o’ his Bo”i * ®bll duly every morning sat down by the little back table on the kitchen deece, whereof I haw already spoken, and having put aside his bonnet and said grace took up his horn spoon and “suppit” his porridge from a daintv wooden “ pup,” the milk that seasoned it being obtained in LT.b ^ The only differencl bSeen him and the lads at the front “dresser” was, that Johnnv had tea and oat cakes and butter daily, whereas the lads go^ “butter an bi|id only on Sabbath mornings. At Klyack Yule and other festivals, master and servant feasted royally tog^^^^^^ the same table, along with sundry invited guests usuallv from among the residenters at Smidd^ard. ^hnn^’s Sir moreo ver, was of exactly the same type as it had^ver bS sbce "se had been wora since he was a young man. What is yet more wondS 26 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. when we think of the general habit of the prosperous part of society in this particular, Johnny had never once dreamed of cutting '' an old acquaintance because of the stigma attach- ing to him on account of his poverty. There was he, a man perfectly ^'independent ^Mn pecuniary matters (and not less independent in his opinions and feelings), who certainly had a very good balance at his banker’s, and, as was pretty broadly hinted, had, under a strong appeal, at one time actually lent money to his laird, and who yet, at kirk or market, would accost any " dyker” or " ditcher” in the parish on terms of perfect equality. The odd thing, too, was that all this did not seem in the least to lower Johnny in the respect of these poor folks, who accepted his opinions with greater deference than they were sometimes disposed to accord to people making much higher pretensions. In politics, Johnny Gibb was what would be called an advanced Liberal, — only the term, I rather think, had not been invented then. When the first Reform Bill was under discussion, he became conspicuous by his vehement declara- tions in its favour. The smith and the souter of Smiddyward had been wont to ^ meet and discuss the subject, and to read, for rnutual edification, all the Radical opinions they could find in print in the serial literature of the time. Johnny became a casual hearer, and, by and by, a not inapt pupil. And thus, when the Bill had passed, and a contested election had come, Johnny went down to the polling place at the "Broch,” and threw up his blue bonnet among the excited burghal crowd, who had rigged out the " toon’s ” drummer to head their scat- tered procession and beat for victory. He stoutly shouted " Bruce for ever ! Gordon never !” and, in place of accepting, like the other newly-enfranchised tenants " in the Ian’,” the directions of his laird. Sir Simon Frissal of Glensnicker, to vote for " Captain Gordon,” he resented the hint given, and at the polling place reminded Sir Simon, in very plain terms, that they two stood now, politically, on an equality. " Step forward, John,” said the rather pompous laird, when they met at the front of the polling-table. Sir Simon was inclined to hang on and see whether his presence would not overawe his refractory tenant even at the eleventh hour. " Savin’ yer presence, sir,” said Johnny, "I wud raither gi’e you the prefairence.” " Step forwardT^^^d the laird, severely. " Weel, weel, sir,” was the reply, — " to please you. We ’re a’ voters alike noo, ye ken. Sir Seemon — ay, ay, we’re a’ JOHNNY GIBB^S POLITICAL EDUCATION. 27 alike noo. Fa is% said ye ? —Sir Mykaeal Breece !” shouted Johnny, in the ears of his astonished neighbours, and under the nose of his frowning laird. Then Johnny clapt on his bonnet, and strode away out unconcernedly. Johnny Gibb's political opinions undoubtedly damaged his ecclesiastical prospects. The eldership in the parish, apart from Jonathan Tawse, the schoolmaster, had worn down to two members, whereof one was much incapacitated by old age and deafness, and the other was but an unstable pillar at best, seeing that he not unfrequently got publicly tipsy on the market-day, and had been known to ride his pony belly-deep in a neighbour's dung-hill on his way home, and then, when the animal could get no further on, sit up in the saddle and shout to some supposed waitress, Anither half-mutchkin, lassie !" The necessity of recruiting the eldership was patent, and the eyes of not a few were directed to Johnny Gibb as one fit and suitable person for the office. Others hinted at Roderick M^Aul, the souter ; but, in those days, in the parish of Pyketillim, we liked to select men of substance for the elder- ship. Besides, the souter was reckoned very wild in his re- ligious opinions, inasmuch as he had agitated the question of a Sunday-School, and was believed to maintain family worship in his household. The parish minister, the Rev. Andrew Sleekaboot, was a very peaceable man in the main, albeit a man that liked ex- tremely well to have his own way, which, indeed, he generally got, amongst his parishioners. The idea had been suggested to him before by Jonathan Tawse that, in order to keep Johnny Gibb docile and submissively attached to the Kirk, he should have him made an elder ; and Mr. Sleekaboot was not indisposed to think that this might have prevented certain aberrations on the part of Johnny, who had been guilty of the irregularity of hearing and even entertaining as his guest a missionar " minister, that came to the quarter occasionally on the invitation of the souter— a thing which no elder, so far as known in that region, had ever presumed to do. But now the daring course taken by Gushetneuk in setting his laird's political opinions and wishes at defiance fairly staggered Mr. Sleekaboot, and he determined to try the effect of indirect discipline in the matter. So he preached a sermon ostensibly on the qualities of those fitted to hold office in the Church, but in which his main strength was expended in picturing the dreadful offence of which they were guilty who refused in any manner of way” to be subject to '^the powers that be.” 28 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. The allusions, though rather laboriously roundabout in their putting, were clear enough to the meanest capacity. The laird, Sir Simon Frissal, who, being in the quarter, had come to countenance the occasion, and who, from his boxed-in, or “ pumphel ” seat, as it was called by the irreverent youth, had nodded approval frequently during the delivery of the sermon, pronounced it an excellent discourse,^^ and spoke vaguely of getting it published. The general remark among the^^i^ rishioners was of this sort, " Nyod, didnin he tak' a gey @i^ at the lectioneerin^ the day ''Aw doot Gushetneuk car? . in for a bitCsu jaa^^on^er .^^ Johnny Gibb met Mr. Sleekaboot in a day or two after the delivery of this famous discourse, when Johnny bluntly ac- costed him thus : — " Weel, I daursa^ ye thocht ye hed me o’ the steel o’ re- pentance on Sunday, sir ?” " Joh.nJJohn ! what do you mean by that ?” I Ou.i brawlY ken ye that, sir ; ye ’re nae so blate — ver dis- coorse was mair like a hash o’ Tory poleelics, nor an ex- poondin o’ the Gospel.” "John ! let me warn you, — these Radical and irreverent notions of yours can end in no good.” " That ’s preceesely fat ye taul me fae the poopit on Sun- day, sir.” ^ " I simply deduced from the passages of Scripture founded upon, those general principles that ought to guide men in cer- tain relations of life.” " Maybe ; but I think, wi’ a’ respec]^, it cudna be countit muckle short o’ a wrestin’ o’ the Word o’ Gweed to apply some o’ the remarks as ye did.” ^ " Mr. Gibb,” said the Rev. Mr. Sleekaboot, with some severity, "that’s a style of remark I have not been accus- tomed to from any parishioner.” " Sae muckle the ^aui/ for ye, maybe,” was the undaunted reply. " Will you be kind enough to condescend upon any re- marks of mine that were not warranted by the Scripture ?” added the minister. "Weel, sir,” replied Johnny, "ye made a hantle o’ the poo’ers that be, an’ the duty o’ absolute subjection to them. Noo, sir, lat me tell ye that the Apos’le never inten’et to set up either the laird or the minaister as ane o’ the poo’ers or- dgeii^ to bear rowle owre ’s i’ the fashion that ye seem’t to approve so muckle o’. The laird jist sets me a bit grun , an’ JOHNNY GIBB^S POLITICAL EDUCATION. 29 as lang as I keep my bargain an’ pay my rent, he has nae bizness wi’ maitters o’ conscience, temporal or spiri^al. As for the minalsterTT gi’e him a’ due deference as my spiritooal instructor, gin he pruv ’imsel’ worthy o’ ’t ; but fat mak’ ye o’ the text that he s’all be ‘ servant of all ’ ?” Mr. Sleekaboot did not stay to make much of it one way or another, at that time at any rate. He mumbled out some- thing about people being opinionative ” and impracticable,” and with a face expressive of a good deal more than he said, bade Johnny Gibb Good day.” A few Sundays thereafter it was announced from the pul- pit that a batch of three new elders had been chosen ; by whom was not stated, but the electing body was believed to consist of Mr. Sleekaboot and the office-bearers already re- ferred to. Anyhow the batch did not include the name of John Gibb. The new pillars of the church were our old friend Mains of Yawal, Braeside (who was the brother-in-law of Peter Birse of Clinkstyle, hereafter to be introduced), and Teuchitsmyre. They were all men of reputable substance, and gifted with the minimum of liability to do or say anything original or remarkable. As was fully to be anticipated, several expectant elders (and their wives) were highly exasperated at being passed over, and canvassed the gifts of the newly-ordained with some asperity. Johnny Gibb said nothing, though his unexpected exclusion caused more talk in the parish than even Mr. Sleekaboot altogether liked. And thus it came about, by and by, that, in quarters in amicable affinity with the manse, the confidentially-whispered averment was freely circulated that the unhappy tenant of Gushetneuk, greatly to the distress of his excellent pastor, had been found to be a good way from ^^soim!” on various fundamental points of doctrine ; indeed, a man of violent and somewhat dangerous opinions generally! CHAPTER V. LIFE AT THE WELLS. last note of Johnny Gibb’s excursion to the Wells left Johnny and his good mare Jess plodding on their way homeward. They reached Gushetneuk in due time, safe and sound ; and there we shall leave them meantime, while I describe shortly the habits of the bather and water-drinker. The daily round was uniform and systematic. You were expected to drink the salt water as an aperient once in two days at least, and to bathe every day. The water was drunk in the morning — the patients helping themselves out of the Moray Firth at such spot as they found most convenient, and then walking along the bare, bluff beach to the valley of Tarlair, where they supplemented the salt water by drinking of the mineral stream that discharged itself at the little well- house, covered with several large Caithness flags, that stood there. There was a little house, too, at the foot of the north bank, where a drop of whisky could be got^mehow in cases of emergency, as when the patient got with the-p liberal libations of salt water previously swallowed, or where the taste lay strongly in that direction ; but this was no part of the recognised regimen. Then about mid-day was the season for bathing. The women — perhaps I should say ladies — bathed at the part nearest the town, and the men further eastward ; and, on the whole, very excellent and safe bathing ground it is ; with, I rather think, the addition of baths built for public accom- modation since the date of which I write. But I speak of the old fashion of things. Bathing served to whet the appetite for dinner, as water-drinking may be supposed to have whetted the appetite for breakfast ; and the former important meal over, the bathers spent the latter part of the day in pleasure ; dajidering about the quays observing the operations going on there amongst the gallant tars and hardy fishermen, at the risk of having an uncomplimentary designation refer- ring to their present mode of life occasionally applied to LIFE AT THE WELLS. 31 them; sauntering out to the hill of Doune to watch the cease- less breakers on “ the bar of Banff,” and wonder how the waters of the Deveron ever managed to make their way into the sea through the sandy deposits that all but shut up its mouth; or perhaps an excursion would be undertaken to Banff or beyond it ; and, in those days everybody made a specialty of visiting Duff House, wandering about the fine grounds at pleasure, and, if ill luck forbade it not, contriving to get some good-natured domestic to guide them over the interior of that noble mansion. The circumstances being as I have said. Widow Will set herself to find out a prudent and experienced person of the male sex to whose care she might entrust Jock, her son, for, at any rate, the bathing part of the course. An’ deed tat ’ll no be ill to get,” quoth Mrs. M'Craw, ^Tor there’s a vera discreet, weel l ivin’ man fae the parish o’ Marnoch bidin at my gweedbreed^’s sister ’s, near the Buchan toll^yeJJt,” Eh, but ^ cudna think o’ tribblin a body that kens nae mail- aboot me an’ mine nor the man o’ France,” said the widow. Och, an’ he’ll be muckle waur o’ lat 1 Maister Saun’ers ’ll no be so easy fash! t, I ’se war faf?! For a won’er he ’ll be in for a crack wi’ Donal’, an’ w e’se see.” H?^e an acquantens o’ your ggodman’s than ?” Fat ither,” said Mrs. M'Craw. An’ a weel-leernit man he is. There ’ll be few as I ’ve seen cud baud the < caH^> to DonaT at argifyin aboot Kirk maitt ers ; but I ye he ’ll no( loufe »the stank so easy wi’ Maister Saun’ers. ” Na, sirs !” sagely observed Widow Will. ^^An’ aw b’lieve he’s here o’ te vera word,” added the good woman, as a ruddy-cheeked well-conditioned man of middle age, dressed in a comfortable suit of grey, and a cloth cap of large dimensions on his head, passed the window and entered. The stranger, who proved to be in reality Maister Saun’ers from Marnoch, at once agreed to take charge of Jock, both for water-drinking and “dookin;” and, finding that his friend Donald had crept out to the garden to enjoy the soft air of a fine summer evening, and feel the declining beams of the sun which he had long ceased to see, he went in search of him ; no doubt to hold high debate on some of their favourite topics, in preference to wasting his time with mere women’s chatter. And thus Jock was intrusted to the responsible care of the gentleman from Marnoch. 32 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. Maister Saunters, as the Celtic landlady had called him, had enjoined on the lad the necessity of being out of bed be- times to accompany him. By six o'clock next morning, ac- cordingly, the two were stalking leisurely along the beach on the east side of the town. At a convenient point they picked their steps down, as other people of both sexes were doing, to where the tide was washing fresh and clear into sundry ir- regular rocky pools. At the margin of one of these Jock's guide, philosopher, and friend, stooped down, filled a tin jug of the salt water, and then, standing bolt upright, solemnly drank off the whole quantity. The jug contained a pint, ample measure ; and when Maister Saun'ers had emptied it, he observed to Jock— Noo, laddie, I 'm ea^physicket. I 'll need no more ; but an o rdinar' dose for a stoot healthy man 's aboot half as muckle again as I 've t a'en . Here noo, I 'll full the juggie, to you." And, suiting the action to the word, he filled the tin jug and presented it to Jock, who lifted the vessel to his head with a dubious and tardy sort of move- ment. Drink hardy, noo !" cried Maister Saun'ers, as Jock made a /gruesQ fflfc^face. and threatened to withdraw the jug from his lips. He made a fresh attempt, but could get no further with the process of drinking. Hoot, toot, laddie, that 'll never do. That wad hardly be aneuch for a sookin bairn." The jug was hardly half emptied. ‘‘But it's terrible coorse," pleaded Jock, with a piteous and imploring look. “ Coorse ! awa' wi' ye, min. Gweed, clean saut water. Ye sud gae at it hardier, an' ye wud never think aboot the taste o"t. Come noo !" Jock made another and not much more successful attempt. “ Hoot, min, dinna spujl the gweed, clean, halesome water ^ — skowff't oot !" “ Weel, but aw canna— it 'Ihgat^me spew," said Jock, in a tone approaching the “ grgetin.''"^ “An' altho', fat m aiter ? " argued his more experienced friend ; “ that 'll help to ^eddV our stamack, at ony rate. Lat me see ye tak' jist ae ither gweed waucht o' 't, and syne we 'se b^eein for a day till we see. Burmm' ye it 's nae jeesty to tak' owre little — speeshally to begin Jock made a portentous and demonstrative gulp, which, I fear, had more show than effect, so far as swallowing the re- LIFE AT THE WELLS. 33 maining contents of the tin jug was concerned. However, he was reluctantly allowed to spill the remainder. ‘‘ Come awa’ noo, an’ pluck a gweed han’fu o’ caller dilse, an’ tak’ a bite o’ them — they ’re a prime thing for the constitu- tion,” continued Jock Will’s new guardian. ^ This order was more grateful than the former had been, and Jock floundered over the slippery tide- washed boulders with alacrity, to gather dulse. Tak’ the shally anes aye fan ye can get them noo,” said Maister Saun’ers, as Jock came up towards him with a bundle of rather ‘‘r^k” looking material. They ’re a very halesame thing ta’en wi’ the water. Luik at that noo !” And he exhibited a bunch of short, crisp dulse, powdered about the root ends with clusters of tiny shells of the mussel species. That’s the richt thing and Maister Saun’ers, after dipping the dulse afresh in a little briny pool, swung them into his mouth. As the shells cracked and crunched away between his excellent grinders, he added. That shalls has a poo’erfu efleck o’ the stamack. We ’ll awa’ roon to Tarlair noo.” When they had walked on to Tarlair, Jock was exhorted to drink as much of the mineral water as he could be per- suaded to have thirst for, and to gyang aboot plenty,” but to tak’ care an’ keep awa’ fae the edges o’ that ooncanny banks.” The scene at Tarlair was pretty much what I daresay it often was. About the Well-house were gathered a cluster of visitors, male and female, of various ages, mostly country people, but including a couple of well dressed sailors, who had evidently been out the night previous on the spree ” and had come there to shake off the effects of their debauch, if one might judge from the disjointed exclamations of one of them, who lay stretched at full length on his face on a long stone seat, occasionally complaining of the physical discom- fort he was suffering, cursing the day of his return to Macduff, and cursing himself as an unmitigated fool. At a little distance along the valley was a group of sturdy water-drinkers of the male sex, with their coats off, playing at putting the stone ; others, male and female, were to be encountered walking hither and thither, or returning to the Well for another drink ; and some lay sluggishly on the brow of the steep grassy banks that shut in Tarlair on the landward side, enjoying the pleasant morning sun, watching any craft that might happen to be in view, or trying to make out as much as they could of the blue hills of Caithness across the Firth. And thus it 34 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK, went on till the several water-drinkers found themselves ready to go home to breakfast. Of Jock WilFs bathing experiences, I daresay, I need say nothing. His guardian was admitted by his compeers to be ^ himself “ a hardy dooker,'^ a quality in which, notwithstand- ing his utmost exhortations, Jock continued to be rather defi- cient, I fear. The first ^^gluff” of the cold water, when it crept up on his person, was a trial which his nerves could hardly withstand, and the oft-repeated injunction to plype doon fan the jaw^s cornin’ embodied a lesson which Jock invariably shrunk from, unless the iron grasp of his preceptor happened to be on his shoulder. Truth to say, Jock had always the feeling that the reflux of the wave would carry him away into some deep unfathomed cave of the Moray Firth. Nevertheless, there are hundreds of nice convenient baylets about the Macduff bathing ground, where even the most inex- perienced may safely take a dip ; and at any rate no harm came to Jock Will during the period of his stay at the Wells. CHAPTEK YI. MRS. BIRSE OF CLINKSTYLE. f N the quiet region about Gushetneuk, comparatively un- important events attracted no inconsiderable amount of public attention ; and furnished topics of news that would circulate for a wonderful length of time. And thus the annual visit of Johnny Gibb’s family to the Wells v>^as naturally known to the neighbourhood, and formed the topic of conversation for the time being. It was also a means of getting a certain amount of useful news direct from the Shore.” And so it came about that, on the evening after his return from Macduff alone, Johnny had a visit from his neighbour, Peter Birse, the farmer of Clinkstyle. Peter’s errand was partly one of friendship, and partly one of business. But here it will be proper shortly to define, somewhat more ex- actly, who Mr. Peter Birse was. Clinkstyle, next to Mains of Yawal, which lay on the west as it did on the east side of the road, and a little nearer to the Kirktown of Pyketillim, was the largest farm in the vici- nity. The tenant of Clinkstyle kept two pairs of horses and a stout shalt,” or orra beast which ran in the gig, the latter being a recently-added voucher for the respectability of Peter Birse, or rather, I should say, the respectability of his wife. She was a managing woman, Mrs. Birse, a very managing wo- man ; extremely desirous of being accounted “ genteel more- over for thrift none in the parish could beat her. Perhaps it would be wrong to say that she boasted of her thrift ; but at any rate the unapproachable sums she realised off her cows every summer in the shape of butter and cheese, in addition to fostering the calves, were no secret. Yet it was understood that Mr. Andrew Langchafts, the new ^^ merchai^ ’ at the Kirk- town, who, with the intention of distancing alT his rivals in the district, and securing the lion’s share of the custom going, had prominently avowed his intention of giving the highest prices for butter and eggs,” did not altogether admire her mode of transacting business. When the sturdy sunburnt 36 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. servant damsel from Clinkstyle, in ‘^chack” apron and calico wrapper/' came to his shop deeply freighted with a basket of butter weighing thirty-six pounds, for which he paid at the rate of eightpence a pound— (a halfpenny in excess of the other shops) — and when Mrs. Birse, by her messenger, bought in return an unce o' spice, a pennyworth o' whitet broons, half a peck o' saut, an' a stane o' whitenin'," one can easily imagine that the ‘'merchan'" did not deem it encouraging. And it would be difficult to believe that he could feel greatly flattered when the girl, having got her erran's ," and her goodly nugget of shillings in her hand, added, The mistress bad's seek some preens fae ye. Ye gyauna's neen last — she says she never saw a merchan' 't cudna aflbprd to gie 's customers (pre^s /' Well,"^poth Andrew Langchafts, gravely, I have really no margin— I 'm afraid I 'll have loss, for the butter's declining." ‘‘That's fat she said at ony rate," answered the damsel, she said she expect there wujl be some ootg a ng o' the butter, forbye 'Tye sud say't it 's ( scrimb wecht." “ I tell you, young ’^man, if I press the buttermilk out of each of these lumps, I would lack well nigh a pound avoirdu^ pois." “ Weel, weel, ye better come awa' wi' oor preens at ony rate an' lat 's be gyaun, or I 'll get up my fit for bidin sae lang." The merchant, a stiff “ goi^y lookin' stock," who had but \ recently begun business in the shop at Pyketillim, whose ex- perience heretofore had, it was understood, been mainly in a tolerably populous back street in Aberdeen, and who was thus not quite conversant with the peculiarities of thrifty country life, had no help but to comply with the request. Mrs. Birse had a family of three sons and one daughter, whose ages ran from ten to seventeen, and she had already begun to lay plans for their future establishment in life. The elder son, Peter, junior, was destined to succeed his father as farmer of Clinkstyle ; the second, Rob, must be provided with a farm as soon as he was ready for it ; the youngest, Benja- min, was to get “ leernin ; " and the daughter would, of course, be married off in due season to the best advantage. Well, as I have said, Peter Birse called at Gushetneuk on the gloamin after Johnny Gibb's return. Along with him came his collie dog, and his eldest son ; and Peter's conver- sation took somewhat of this turn— “ Weel. Gushets, ye've wun (redd/ o' the goodwife noo, hae ye?" MRS. BIRSE OF CLINKSTYLE. 37 “ I' the meantime, Clinkies— mithna ye try something o’ the kin’ to get on the breek s yerseTloF" a fyou days, jist for a cheenge ?” Clinkies did not altogether relish the retort seemingly, so he gave up the jocular vein, and continued — s/ Weel, foo ’s the jcfab) lveukin doon the wye o’ Turra ?” Ou b rawl y ; bits a the corn wud be neen wa^ o’ a g weed shodefT but the feck o’ ’t ’s settin’ for a gey fair crappie .” ''D’ye think that, though, Gushets it ’s l^te, blate, a hantle o’ ’t, hereaboot.” "jDu ay, ye ’ve a gey puckle i’ the la^ an’ twa ’r three aul’ (fucHxo thrash oot, Peter ; but I wudna advise you to keep up, expeck jn an o ndeemas price for ’t — the corn ’s cornin’ doon,” said Johnny. " Eh, man, is ’t exclaimed Peter Birse. " An’ fat are they gi’ein at the Shore ?” " F our-an’- twenty for gweed, weel-colour’t stuff ; an’ getting slack at that,” said Johnny Gibb. " There ’s sic cairns o’ ’t pourin’ in sin’ the neep seed was finish’t.” Peter Birse, senior, could scarcely conceal his chagrin at this announcement, the truth being that he had been sent over by Mrs. Birse to find out from Johnny what was being paid for the quarter of oats at Macduff ; and also what was being charged for the boll of lime and coals, the object of these inquiries being to obtain the necessary data for decid- ing whether it would be prudent and advantageous to send off a couple of cartloads of grain from Clinkstyle, for sale at that port, and to bring the carts home laden with either of the articles just named. " An’ diynin ye think four-an’-twenty a terrible little sim- mer price, Gushets ?” pleaded Peter, " ’Deed, Peter, it ’s aboot daar aneuch for them that has ’t to buy. Dinna ye be keepin’ up, lippenin till a muckle price afore hairst. — ye may get a less, an’ nae blessin’ wi’ ’t.” * " Aweel, a’ the toosht aboot oor toon ’ll mak’ little odds. We wusna jist seer gin we wud thrash oot the bit huickie or i twa we hae, or no. Is there mony fowk at the Walls this ^ sizzon ?” " Muckle aboot the ordinar ’.” "There’ll be mair neisl month, I daursay,— the water winna be at its strength till near aboot Lammas, ye ken. Fan diY.ye gae doon again to fesh hame the goodwife ?” " This day ouk.” " An’ ye ’ll tak’ a day or twa o’ the water yersel’, like ?” 38 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. “ Fae Wednesday till Saturday lickly,— well come hame on Saturday.” ^ “ Jist that. They ’ll be begun to the herrin’ gin than ?” / “ I kenna.” “ Sawna ye nae appearance o’ the fishers gettin’ the muckle ' boats hurl’t doon to the water aff o’ the chingle, or the nets ~t rankit oot ?” ^ “Weel, I really tyeuk little notice, Peter; but I ’se keep my een apen fan I gae back.” ‘‘Jist that,” added Peter. ‘^It's a sturrin place Macduff : sp^shally aboot the time o’ the hernn’.” Peter had an object in all the questions he had put. He had got a commission of inquiry from his spouse, and his business, when he had fulfilled it, was to go home and report to her. When he had done so faithfully, Mrs. Birse pro- nounced, almost with indignation, against the idea of selling corn at twenty-four shillings a-quarter ; and more than hinted that if Johnny Gibb’s granary and stack-yard had not been pretty well emptied, he would not have been so communicative of the sort of advice he had tendered to the goodman of Clinkstyle. “ Man, ye ’re a saft breet ; cudna ye ’a speer’t fat he wud tak’ for a dizzen o’ quarters oot o’ the bing on his barn l^t ?” added Mrs. Birse, in the way of personal compliment to Peter ; and, having delivered herself of her sentiments on the grain question, she next heard Mr. Birse’s statement about the general run of things at Macduff, and the fishing in particular. The truth was, Mrs. Birse contemplated troubling Johnny Gibb with a small order when he returned to the sea-port just named to fetch home his own. And on the evening before Johnny set forth on that journey, the lad Rob Birse was en- trusted with the delivery of this order to the person who was to be honoured with its execution. Rob came across to Gushetneuk accordingly, and, having found Johnny, dis- charged his trust in these words — “My mither bad ’s tell ye — gin ye wud be good aneuch — fan ye gang to Macduff, to fesh hame till her fan yer cornin’ back twa diz^ o’ fresh herrin’. An’ gin there binna herrin’, gin ye cud get a gweed chape skate till her, an’ twa three- bawbee partans.” “An’ is that a’, laddie — has she nae ither bits o’ erran’s asked Johnny, with a slight tinge of sarcasm, which the youth- ful Birse hardly appreciated. “ No, aw dinna think it,” answered the lad. “ /- I She was MRS. BIRSE OF CLINKSTYLE. 39 gyaun to bid ye fesh half-a-gallon o’ dog-oil till her, but she hedna a pig teem that wud haud it.” During these eight days of temporary celibacy, while his wife was absent at the Wells, Johnny Gibb persisted in taking most of his meals with his three servants. He partook along with Tam Meerison and ^‘the loon” of whatever Jinse Deans saw fit to make ready; and when Jinse ventured to ask his advice about some part of her household work, Johnny got something very like crusty, and said he kent nedder aucht nor ocht aboot it and that if she ^Midna ken better aboot hoosewifeskip ” than he did, she wud mak’ a peer bargain ” to the man that got her ; at which Jinse giggled, tossed her head slightly, and professed that there was fyou seekin’ ’er.” But Jinse was a competent servant as vrell as a gate - farrin” damsel ; and, though she had consulted Johnny once out of deference to him, she was quite capable of discharging her household duties satisfactorily without special guidance ; and, in point of fact, she did so discharge them at this time, in so far as both Johnny and the other members of the household were concerned. CH APTEK VII. BACK FROM THE WELLS. f OHNNY GIBERS return visit to the Wells, in 1839, was to him a somewhat memorable one ; not for any re- markable events by which it was distinguished, but in this wise. Johnny had the fortune then to make the incidental acquaintance of two men, each in his way not a little after his own heart. These were Donald M^Craw, and the gentleman from Marnoch, of whom the reader has already heard some- what.^ Donald, like many another Celt, was a keen hand in the discussion of all questions of a theologico-polemical cast, and a staunch upholder of the Church’s exclusive jurisdiction in matters spiritual. And while the Marnoch man held simi- lar sentiments with Donald theoretically, the progress of events was just then bringing to his own door the opportunity of illustrating his theory by a practical testimony. And thus it was that when Johnny Gibb, Donald M^Craw, and Maister Saun’ers,” as Mrs. M^Craw called him, had got ‘‘fairly yokit” on the subject of the Kirk, a lengthened and engrossing “confabulation” was the result. When general principles had been sufficiently expounded — Donald and the Marnoch man being so thoroughly well up in the subject that Johnny was reduced to the position very much of a listener and learner — Maister Saun’ers entered on the history of the Marnoch case with all the exactitude of personal knowledge. Johnny had heard of it in a general way before, and sympa- thised with the protesting parishioners, but as his information grew through the communications of Maister Saun’ers, his sympathy also waxed in intensity, till it merited the name of righteous indignation against those who had sought to deprive them of their rights and privileges. “ Ay,” said Maister Saun’ers, “ whaur ’s the richts o’ con- science there, I wud like to ken ? A man wi’ nae gifts fittin’ ’im for the wark forc’t upon an unwillin’ people i’ the vera ^eth o’ the Veto Act.” BACK FROM THE WELLS. i 41 An’ was there naebody in fa wvour o’ this Edwards j asked Johnny. I ''Judge ye, Maister Gibb— oot o’ three hunner heids o’ I faimilies, members o’ the congregation, nae less nor twa \ hunner an’ sixty-one protested against his being sattl’t.” An’ the lave sign’t for ’im “ \ " ^Deed no — I dinna like to speak oot o’ b oun’ s : but I ’m s^ there’s nae half-a-dizzen, that hae ony richt to meddle i’ ,, the maitter, in fawvour o’ him — leavin’ oot Peter Taylor, the ^ innkeeper at Foggieloan, I ken hardly ane.” Dear me, man : but lat yer Presbytery be fat they like, I the Assembly ’ll never thole sic ongaens.” “Ay, Maister Gibb, but that’s jist whaur the crisis lies. The Assembly o’ last year — Thirty- aucht. ye ken — I ordeen’t the Presbytery to throw the presentee oot : aweel, that ’s been deen sinsyne. But nae doot ye ’ve heard o’ the Auchterarder case, whaur the Coort o’ Session was call’t into play, an’ the vera Presbytery o’ Dunkeld brocht I till its bar in person— it ’s aneuch to gar ane’s bleed ^ boil to think o’ ’t, aifter the noble struggles and sufferin’s o’ I oor covenantin’ forebears to mainteen spiritooal indepen- dence.” ' I “ It luiks like a joodgment o’ ^ 1^’ for oor oonfaithfu’- ness,” said Donald. “ Aweel,” continued Maister Saun’ers, “ the Apostle says, ' evil communications corrupt good menners,’ an’ so although , the Presbytery hae been prohibitet fae takin’ ony forder steps fatsomever to i nduct this ' stranger’ that the flock will never follow, fa sud hin’er him to gae to the Coort o’ Session neist an’ seek a decree authoreesin the Presbytery to gae on wi’ the settlement “ I’ the vera teeth o’ the Assembly ?” exclaimed Johnny. “ Ay, Maister Gibb, that ’s the pass we ’re brocht till at Marnoch noo.” An’ has the ahrn o’ ta secular poo’er raelly been streetch’t oot to touch tjL ark o’ ta Kirk’s spiritooal independence ? ” I asked Donald, with an air of solemnity. "Judge ye, Donal’ — This vera ouk this Edwards has gotten a legal dockhnent fae the s hoopreme ceevil Coort, re- quarin the Presbytery forthwith to tak’ ’im on his trials.” (( “Alas ! alas 1” said the blind pensioner, shaking his head, I sic unhallowjt wark bodes ill for oor coontra. We may some o’ us leeve to see ta day whan the faithfu’ people o’ God maun I worship on the hill-sides again.” 42 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. But,” interposed Johnny, your Presbytery — they ’ll see you richtit. They winna daur to disobey the Assembly.” Oor Presbytery ! Jist wait ye,” said Maister Saun’ers. « We Ve hed owre gweed preef o’ their quality in the times byegane. They ’ve deen ocht but bef rien’e t the people ; an’ I ’ll gi’e the lugs fae my heid gin they dinna gae on noo, neck- or-naething, to cajrry oot this sattlement — that ’s to say, the majority ; for aiyen in Stra’bogie we ’ve a faithfu’ minority protestin’ against sic iniquity.” An’ will ye stan’ to hae this man Edwards forc’t upo’ ye, neck an’ heels ?” said Johnny Gibb warmly. “ Never ! — I tell ye the fowk o’ Marnoch ’ll never submit to that, come fat will. They’ll leave the kirk wa’s to the owls an’ the bats s^er, an’ gae forth oon^ the firmament o’ heaven to worship.” Praise to Him that rules ta hearts o’ men that we hae faithfu’ witnesses i’ the Ian’!” quoth Donald M'Craw, with something of the fervour of an old Covenanter. Ay,” replied Johnny, ‘‘it wud be a gran’ sicht to see a congregation maircji oot, an’ leave the bare wa’s o’ the dese- cratit kirk, r aithe r nor bide still, un’er the minajstry o’ ane that hed nae better call till ’s office nor fat the poo’ers o’ this earth can gi’e ’im by dint o’ the strong airm o’ the law — owre- ridin’ the saacred richts o’ men’s consciences.” “ Mark my words weel,” said Maister Saun’ers, “ if ye dinna see sic a sicht as fat ye speak o’ in Marnoch, afore ony o’ ’s is muckle aul’er, I ’m far mista’en.” “ Wae, wae, to ta men that forder sic unsajictifiet wark,” said Donald, “ an’ may ta Christian people nae be foun’ faint- heartit i’ the day o’ trial.” ’ Never fear,” exclaimed Maister Saun’ers stoutly, “ we hae stood to oor pr^ciples as yet, an’ we ’ll dee ’t still, i’ maugre o’ an Erastian Presbytery, wha ken nae heicher homage nor renderin’ to Caesar the things that are God’s.” “ Ay, ay, man,” said Johnny reflectively, and I rather think the image of Mr. Sleekaboot crossed his mind. “ There ’s owre mony o’ them tarr’t wi’ the same stick — war’dly, time- servin’ characters ; mair concern’t aboot pleasin’ the lairds nor sairin their Maister.” “ Weel, weel,” added Maister Saun’ers, “dep^ ye upon ’t, though it may begin at hus. it canna en’ there. There maun be a clearin’ oot, an’ an estaiblishment o’ the true prenciples that oor forefathers focht an sufler’t for, afore the Kirk o’ Scotian’ can be set on her richt foondations.” BACK FROM THE WELLS. 43 Gospel truth noo," exclaimed Donald M Craw, who delighted in sombre prediction. ^ I will overturn, overturn, overturn,' saith ta prophet. An' ta Kirk has been too lang sattFt on her lees — her day o' joodff- ment must come." / j s the spirit of Johnny Gibb was not a within him by the discourse he had held with Maister Saun ers and Donald M'Craw. For the day or two that he remained at Macduff, Maister Saun’ers was his con- together, and Jock W ll trotted behind ; they sat on the braes in the sun,'^and talked together, and Jock traversed the pebbly part of the beach in search of bonny buckles,” half of which Jock had destined for the adornment of his mother’s mantlepiece at pther half— well Jock was gallant enough to medi- tate a sui prise for the lassie,” by presenting to her, should a favourable opportunity occur, as they journeyed home a J ° Macduff beach afforded. When the two new-made friends parted there was a vigorous handshaking, and Johnny Gibb avowed, as indeed turned out to be the case, that from that day forward his in t cause would be quickened in a dc ree vlitf n? to his previous state of hazy, hpin nff v!°^ against Moderate domination, as it had been attempted to be exercised by Mr. Sleekaboot The journey home from the Wells was necessarily very much of the character of the journey thither ; only that the fhp ^ moje tanned, if possible, by the^sun, and the stores they now earned were chiefly of a maritime nature —a few dried cod ; herrings ; partans ; dulse, and a bottle of sea water taken along by Widow Will to perfect her son’s «tt^" they arrived at Gushetneuk. Hae, lassie," quoth Johnny Gibb, handing out a decrepit- Ye^rbetT^ftawl ’ Clinkstyle’s herr^n’. Ye 11 better tak them owre at ance, or we’ll be bearin’ aboot n,a;‘.:5I;?rpSaS ’ Please yersel', 'oman ; but I sud partan neen wi"er. ey war owre dear bocht till agree wi' her constiteetion." good^fe^^' ^^swered the 44 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. The compromise made was to send along with Mrs. Birse’s parcel of herrings a goodly bundle of dulse ; and the lassie went off to Clinkstyle freighted accordingly. “ An' that 's my herrin' is 't, Mary ?" said Mrs. Birse, on seeing the basket. An' dilse, nae less ? Na, sirs, but ye '11 be a far-t raive l't 'oman noo. Did the wifie Wull come hame wi' yer aunt an' you, no ?" ^^Ay." An' Jock, nae doot — Is his sair chafts better noo ?" I think they are," said the lassie. An' ye 've bidden a' thegither at Macduff, I 'se warran' ?” Na ; auntie an' me bidet o or lane s in ae hoose, an' Widow Wull at anither." ^ “ Ou yea, I thocht ye wud 'a maetit a' throu' ither — 't wud 'a made it^haeper for Jock an^ mither, maybe. They cam’ in files to see vou, an' bade throiP the ^terneen Ay, m^.'' “ An' fa did yer aunt an' you bide wi', syne ?" They ca'd them Mr. and Mrs. M^Craw." A muckle hoose, I wauger , an' braw fowk ? — brawer nor the fowk that Jock Wull an"s mither bade wi'." Ay, it was middlin' muckle." It wusna neen o' the fisher tribe 't ye bade wi', than ?" Na, the man was an aul' sojer. " ‘‘ An aul' sojer ! He 's keepit ye in order, no ?" But he was blin'." An' 's wife made a livin' by keepin' lodgers — she wud hae mair nor you ?" ‘‘ Na, she keepit a skweel for little littleanes. " An' lodg't you i' the room en'J’ — jist that. She wud mak' a gweed penny i' the coorse o' the s]^n that wye, I 'se varran'." As the goodwife of Clinkstyle leisurely undid the basket, she plied the girl with these and sundry other queries, marked by the like laudable intention of finding out the inner history of the journey to the Wells ; and in particular, whether Widow Will had not only been conveyed to and fro by the Gushetneuk folks, but had also shared in their bounty while at Macduff. At last the basket was emptied and its contents scrutinised. Ay, lassie, an' that 's my twa dizze n ? They 're some saf t, an' nae gryte sizes, weel-a-wat— Hoot, lassie, there 's only sax an' twenty there ! Keep me, there sud 'a been foorteen to the dizzen — I never tyeuk less nor foorteen fae aul' Skairey the BACK FROM THE WELLS. 45 cadger, lat aleen Macduff itseP. Aweel, tak^ ye hame yer creelie noo. I sanna be speerin’ the price o’ them eenoo, but fan I see yer uncle I sail lant him the richt gate. He ’s a het buyer o’ fish — nae to ken the cadger’s dizzen.” It is not quite certain that Mrs. Birse had any matured intention of ever asking the price of the herrings, if no one else stirred the question. Anyhow she deemed it politic to let it rest meanwhile ; and politic also, in a wider sense, to dismiss the lassie graciously. Na, Mary, but ye are growin’ a lang lassie. Oor ’ Liza an’ you ees’t to be heid-y-peers, but ye’re tynin her a’the- gither. I dinna believe but ye ’re near as heich’s Peter there. Come ’ere^ min,” continued Mrs. Birse, addressing the young gentleman in question, who had applied himself industriously to the mastication of the dulse. Awat, but ye mak’ a win- some pair. Gae ’wa’ noo, Patie, an’ convoy Mary a bit; tak’ ^ basket il yer han’, and see ’t ye help her owre the stank afore ye turn.” Peter, a thriving but on the whole slightly softish-looking lad, ^^hirsled” off his seat with rather evident reluctance, and after groping about for his bonnet, proceeded to do as his mother ordered him. And with this lesson in gallantry to her eldest born, the goodwife of Clinkstyle turned her to the continued prosecution of her domestic duties. CHAP TEE VIII, TAM MEERISON FLITS. f HE Style of life that prevails at such places as Gushet- neuk would not, I can well believe, suit the taste of the sensational story-teller. He might wait a very long time for ''thrilling incidents’^ of any sort, and wait in vain ; and the sober realities of every day life, as there exemplified, would be certain so to conflict with his spasmodic conceptions of human existence as to drive him to distraction. Nevertheless, I am prepared, after full trial, to deny that such a style of life is in reality, or necessarily, either dull or uninteresting. But, what is more to the point, it is just the very thing that suits my present purpose, inasmuch as I can take my narra- tive in the most leisurely way, and jump over twelve months or so, which I now do, with the bare remark that I have per- formed that exploit, fully trusting to pick up my characters in statu quo just as I left them. When the Martinmas term of 1840 was drawing near, Johnny, Gibb wanted to know of Tam Meerison whether he was disposed to remain as his servant through the winter. Tam’s answer to this question, addressed to him while he was busy currying the bay mare, was not decisive either way. "Aw cudna say,” quoth Tam drily ; "aw wudna care a great heap, gin we can ’g^ aboot the waages, an’ a’ ither thing confeerin.” " Confeerin or no confeerin,” said Johnny testily, " I wunt a mair direck. answer — fat siller are ye seekin’ ?” "It depen’s a gweed hantle on a body’s neeboors tee,” continued Tam. " Ou ay, I ken the loon an’ you ’s been aye haein bits o’ sharries noo and than ; but he ’s a weel-workin’, weel-con- duckit loon, an’ ye winna pit an aul’ heid upo’ young shou’ders.” '^^^^ill he be bidin ?” asked Tam. " ^ " Lickly, though he hasna been speer’tat yet ; an’ Jinse ’s <_ bidin — hae ye ony faut to fin’ wi’ her tAM MEERISON FLitS. 47 “ 1 Ve naething adee wi^ women’s wark, an’ never meddles wi”t,”said Tam, purging his grooming very industriously. ‘‘ Roun’, Jess— wp— still, you thing.” The latter part of the sentence was of course addressed to the animal then under- going its daily trimming. “ Weel, weel, but tell me, ay or no, an’ fat fee yer seekin’,” insisted Johnny Gibb. “ I cudna say foo the fees ’ll be rmnin this term ; an’ aw wudna like to name siller till the mornin’ o’ the market.” A puddin’ lug, min,” exclaimed J ohnny. “ That ’s aye the gate wi’ you chiels ; t um’le aboot a haill kwintra side, sax month or so here, sax month or so there, for half o’ your life time, an’ never save a saxpence to bless yoursel’s wi’.” “ I cudna dee ’t though,” said Tam, who still carried in his mind Johnny’s demand to know what fee he wanted. Johnny at once turned him about and left the stable. Now the truth of the matter was that Tam Meerison did not wish to leave Gushetneuk. The “ loon,” of whom the reader has formerly heard, and who was still Tam’s fellow- servant, was just a little of a thorn in his side occasionally, by his lack of reticence in speech on certain subjects ; but then there was much seemingly to balance this very partial griev- ance. If Johnny Gibb was occasionally a little hasty, he was on the whole a kind and indulgent master. The horses Tam drove were handsome, well appointed, and well fed — an im- portant consideration, and properly so, with every man in Tam’s position. Tam admitted that the servants were “weel ees’t” in the way of food ; and then the presence of Jinse Deans had come to be something that seemed to be essential to Tam’s perfect serenity of mind. But for all that Tam was so far the slave of habit that he could not clearly see his way to departing one jot from what, among his compeers, had come to be considered the correct mode of bargain-making in covenanting for their services ; he had a kind of general idea that it was on the whole an effeminate sort of thing to “ bide owre lang i’ the same place,” and he had now been eighteen months at Gushetneuk. On the morning of the feeing market day, Johnny Gibb no doubt asked, once more, what wages Tam required, but evi- dently Johnny was in a decidedly more indifferent mood than when he had previously mooted the subject. And, accord- ingly, when Tam, who by that time had begun seriously to doubt his previous policy, “ socht,” he somewhat curtly “ bade” ten shillings less than the sum Tam mentioned. With few 4^ JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. more words they separated, and each went away to the market m his own interest, but with a vague notion on Tam's part that they '' wud lickly meet afore they were lang there." Early in the day, however, Johnny had a ''stoot gudge," anxious to work a pair o' horse," pressed on his notice and easily ar- ranged with him. Tam hung in the market for good part of the day receiving only indifferent offers, and the upshot was, that he at last, reluctantly enough, engaged himself to be ^ forernan " at Clinkstyle. Peter Birse, as was not an unusual case with him, was about to make what is understood by a clean toon " of his servants, and, according to his invariable practice, had been endeavouring to fill up the vacancies in his establishment at the cheapest rate ; so he managed to pick up Tam Meerison at an advanced period of the market, at a crown less fee than Johnny Gibb had offered Tam on the morning of the same day. The change from Gushetneuk to Clinkstyle was one that Tam Meerison did not find exactly conducive to his comfort. In explaining his reasons for making the change, Tam, to put the best face upon it, told his friends that he was desirous of getting to a muckier toon " than Gushetneuk, where he would have more company " and so on. But, poor lad, the company he got were a cause of no little trouble to him. It so hap- pened that Mrs. Birse's notions about the proper mode of feeding servants were not such as to command the approval generally of those servants who had had practical experience of them, or to procure for Mrs. Birse herself a favourable re- putation among that class where she was known. The new servants — second horseman, orra man, and cow baillie — were disposed not merely to grumble but to break out into open insurrection, on the ground of the unsatisfactory character of the victuals supplied to them. And they expected Tam to vindicate their rights in the matter ; a duty which he found by no means easy or pleasant. So far as mere inarticulate growling, or the utterance of an incidental anathema against the victuals in the^ hearing of the servant maid went, Tam found no difficulty in going fully along with his companions. But a crisis came by-and-by. The goodwife, in her thrifty way, had for a good many nights in succession, supplied boiled turnips and turnip brose " to the lads as the staple of their supper. And in testimony of their appreciation of the fare thus furnished, they latterly had no sooner smelt the odour thereof as they entered the kitchen night after night, than they duly commenced to low " like as many oxen. Then TAM MEERISON FLITS. 49 it was that Mrs. Birse seized the occasion to catch them flagrafite delicto^ by bursting into the kitchen as they were bellowing away ; and a very stiff onset she gave them about this unbecoming behaviour. Aff fat hae ye to say against gweed sw^et neeps to yer ^i pper , I sud like to ken.^^^ demanded the irate mffion. ^ Oh weel, it 's owre afen to hae them ilka nicht ^cep Sun- day for a haill ouk/^ said Tam. Owre afen 1 birst the stamacks o’ ye : fat wud ye hae !” A ch ange files .” ^^For fat, no. ^ There’s fowk maybe ’t kens their place better nor set their servan’s doon at the same table wi’ them- sel’s ; and gin ye hinna leern’t that muckle g^ed breedin’ yet, the seener ye ’re taucht it the better : fat sorra div ye wunt.?” . We wunt naething but a fair diet,” answered Tam. A fair diet ! An’ weel ’t sets ye — aAv wud thank ye to tell me izxiyour fader — the roch dyker,” and here Mrs. Birse looked directly in Tam Meerison’s face, ''was able to gi’e’s f^ily aneuch o’ onythjn g to ate. But that ’s aye the gate ; them that ’s brocht up like beggars ’s aye warst to please.” This outburst took the wind so considerably out of Tam that he utterly failed to make any reply; and Mrs. Birse, after a brief pause, went on, " Deed they ’re but owre gweed for ye — wi’ weel hir’t brose, an’ plenty o’ as gweed milk to yer kyaaks i f' as ever cam’ oot o’ a byre.” ’ " Sang, it needs ’t a’ — near aucht days aul’, an’ as blue as blaeworts ; — but it ’s nae the milk ’t we ’re comple^nin o’ eenoo,” said the second horseman, after another paus^ " Na, an’ ye wud be h aul’ to compleen, ye ill-menner’t pack ; O but ye ’ll jist tak’ yer neeps there, an’ nae anither cheep oot o’ the heids o’ ye ; or gin ye dinna, we’ll ken fat wye to tak’ an order o’ ye.” "Tak’ an order o’ the aul’ Smith, an’ ye like ; neeps sax nichts oot o’ the seyven winna s tan’ law at ony rate,” said the former speaker. "An’ it’s muckle ken aboot law,” replied the goodwife scornfully. " Jist gae ye on till I need to gar yer maister tak’ ye afore the Shirra, an ye ’ll maybe hae some diffeekwalty in stannin yer grun for refeesin a gweed halesome ' With this deliverance, and unheeding the rejoinder, " Aweel, aw daursay ye ’ve had the chance o’ bearin’ the Shirra afore noo,” Mrs. Birse turned, and bounced away " ben ” to the parlour, where she proceeded to make tea for her husband JOHNNY GtBB OF GUSHETNEUK. and hopeful progeny, now gathered round the table, at tne same time letting the unspent balance of her wrath blow off m a general way, to ease her mind ; the head of the house- hold getting a slight incidental scorching, when he happened to come m the way. ^ •A ^ ^ sure, man, I ^m jist keepit in a fry wi^ ae coorse pack aifter anither ; ye seerly the vera warst that ye can get fan ye gae to the market.'^ ^ ^ “ Hoot, ^oman, ye sudna vex yersel^ aboot them." Easy to ye ; but ^ ye hed the maetin o’ them’s I hae, ye wd tell another story. A vulgar, ill-fashion’t set." Fat ’s been a^ee eeno.?" “ Adee ! refc^in their neeps, an’ makin’ a din like as mony nowte fan they cam’ in." Hoot awa’." “Yes,” interjected Miss Eliza Birse, “an’ I heard the second horseman cursin’ aboot the kitchie cakes.” « asked Mrs. Birse. ba^’t at Betty, an’ said they werena fit for swine to eat. “An’ fat did Betty say, ’Liza?” “She said’t hoo’t she cudna help it; that it was your orders to mak them weet i’ the hert to keep the men fae eatin’ owre muckle." “The dooble limmer!” exclaimed Mrs. Birse. “An’ her luikin a the time ’t a bodie speaks till ’er as gin butter wudna melt m her cheek." Weel, I heard ’er at ony rate ; for I was jist gaen up the stair, an stoppit and hearken’t at the back o’ the inner kitchie door. “The oongratefu ill-menner’t jaud’t she is,” continued Mrs. Birse. But I ’ll sort ’er for that. She ’ll be expeckin to get some leavin’s i’ the taepot, to be a cup till ’er fan the men gaes oot to sipper the beasts, as eeswal ; but she’ll luik wi clear een ere she see that again, I doot. That ’s the re- ward t fowk gets for their kinhiess to the like o”er.” While this conversation ws going on, the tea was pro- ceeding apace. The three young Masters Birse and Miss Birse, with their respected parents, were seated round a soi^what clumsily set out table, containing in the way of Mlids, an ample store of bread, oatcakes, cheese, and butter. The olive plants” were all at school, except Peter, junior, who, being designed for agriculture, was understood to have the literary part of his education about finished, and was iinujf TAM MEERISON FLITS. 51 taking to farming operations, including some minor attempts at cattle dealing at which he had been allowed to try his hand, very kindly. Suddenly Peter, senior, called across the table to his youngest born, Benjamin — Benjie ! fat are ye deein pirlin aboot at yer breid that WeeV^ answered Benjie, sulkily, ’Liza’s gi’en’s a nae gweed bit, an winna hae ’t ’ersel’.” ^ " The breid ’s a’ perfe^ly gweed— ate it this moment, sir !” said Peter Birse, senior, severely. Benjie put on a look more dour and dolorous than before, but failed to fulfil the parental mandate. “ Fat is ’t, my pet ?” asked Mrs. Birse, in her most sympa- thising tones, addressing Master Benjamin. ^^Weel, it’s nae gweed,” answered Benjie, proffering his marnma the unacceptable bit of cakes— a thick, rather soMen- looking piece.” The worthy lady examined it for a second, and said ’Liza ! that ’s a bit o’ the kitchie kyaaks — fat wye has that come here ?” — I dinna know,” answered Miss Birse; ^^it was upo’ the truncher.” ^Ms there mair o”t? Eh ay — here’s twa korters ! Betty cudna but ’a kent that she was p,iUin ’t upo’ oor m^n. I sudna won’er nor she ’s stown as muckle o’ the parlour breid till hersel . Sic creaturs wi’ oonhonesty. Lay thaj: twa korters by, ’Liza, till we see better in till ’t. I ’s^e at the boddom o that, though it sud cost her ’er place.” The careful mother added, ''There’s a better bittie to ye, my dautie,” and as she said this, she handed toTBehjie a full half of one of the quarters” of parlour cakes, which bore about the same relation to the " kitchie kyaaks,” that a well-browned biscuit does to a lump of dough. v/ '' Hoot, ’om— an,” Peter Birse had commenced to utter, in the way of deprecation of this proceeding, when Mrs. Birse cut him^ short by tossing the lump of " kitchie kyaaks ” to- wards him, and exclaiming — " Weel, weel, try’t yersel’, gin ye hae onything to say. But ye canna expec^ the bairn’s stamackie to be able to disjeest the like o’ that.” — - " Humph, I cud ate it brawly,” said Peter Birse, senior; and m proof of the truth of his assertion he did eat it. Only his next helping was taken, not from the remaining bit of kitchie kyaaks,” but from the parlosr cakes. The result of the turnip controvefey was that Tam Meeri- U. OF ILL LIB. 52 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. son and his companions did get an occasional supper of “ kail ” very purely prepared with salt and water ; only as the three ads coincided in holding decidedly that Tam ought to have stuck n up better to the auP soo his influence and authority as foreman were correspondingly diminished. And the less Tam was disposed to renew the quarrel with his mistress, the more did the others swear “at lairge” when they happened to be about the kitchen. Not seldom was this done, with the evident intention of provoking warfare, as well as of manifesting the slight degree of respect they entertained for 1 am, and for everybody else connected with Clinkstyle ; the general lesult being that Tam would sit, mainly dumb, a good part of the evening, hearing no end of jibes indirectly launched at himself; while Betty, the hard-wrought be-draggled kitchen damsel would at one time giggle and laugh with the rough lellows, and be at next turn coarsely tormented till she was in a state of the highest wrath, or be made the butt of their oaths and obscene allusions. As for Mrs. Birse, ‘'bauW woman as she was, even she found it to her comfort to make as few errands to the kitchen as might be, while ''the boys,'' as her husband termed them, were about. And here, good reader, I bethought me of giving utterance to a few moral reflections " on the degraded character of our farm-servant class ; and how blame-worthy they are for being such immoral and unmannerly boors. But somehow my line of vision came always to be obstructed by a full-figure image of Mrs. Birse of Clinkstyle, who, you will perceive, is a very particular and intimate acquaintance of mine. Mrs. Birse would come into the forefront, and her husband, Peter, was vaguely discernible in the background. So I gave up the at- make it on your own account ; but I doubt vm^her you will be able to search thoroughly into the causes of this social evil without being also troubled with the imaee of Mrs. Birse oi Clinkstyle, ^ OHAPTEE IX. PEDAGOGICAL. f HE parish which forms the theatre of the principal scenes in this history, if not amply furnished with the means of education, had, at any rate, the advantage of a couple of schools. There was, first of all, the parochial school ; a sample of that noble institution which is understood to have done so much for the enlightenment of our native country. And I should be the last to depreciate the value of the paro- chial school, though I have a strong opinion that the statutory dominies of a quarter of a century ago, up and down, were, as a rule, highly inefficient for educational purposes. The im- provement in the general style of teaching since that time is, I also believe, much greater than is imagined by many people. The Rev. Jonathan Tawse, of the parochial school of Pyketillim, whose name has been previously mentioned, was considered, on the whole, a superior educationist, as com- ^ pared with his brethren throughout the Presbytery. What the parishioners said about him in the early part of his career was, that his ambition lay too much toward the pulpit to ad- mit of an efficient discharge of his duties as a teacher. And certain it is that the Rev. Jonathan Tawse was not destitute of a desire to wag his pow in some particular poopit” which he could call his own, as his prompt readiness to officiate for any absent or sick brother of the Presbytery testified. And he usually sought opportunity to air his gifts still farther afield about the time of the annual vacation. It had even been bruited that he made bold, on one occasion, to offer himself in this way to the suffrages of a vacant towffis congregation. But whether it was that the people were inappreciative, or patrons unaccommodating to the influence that he could com- mand, the Rev. Jonathan Tawse settled down as a dominie, and a confirmed old bachelor, and took rather kindly and freely to toddy and snuff. I don’t think that the Church lost much in respect of the Rev. Jonathan Tawse’s failure to reach the dignity of formal ordination. For even in my time he 54 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. preached at rare intervals in Mr. Sleekaboot’s absence ; and we juniors liked him ; only it was for reasons which I greatly fear did not tend to edification. Firstly, his “ sneeftiinie” habits were a sort of pulpit novelty that tended to liveliness as contrasted with the stiff and demure solemnity of the usual minister. And then Mr. Tawse’s services were short as com- pared with those of Mr. Sleekaboot. Not that he said less either in prayer or m the sermon, but he had remarkable mpidity of utterance. There are religionists, I believe, in the f^ast at any rate, who pray by machinery. Now the Rev. J onath^ T awse, in prayer, behaved exactly like an instru- ment which had been wound up, and must run down. With an exactitude that was remarkable, the well-worn phrases fell m m rapid succession to each other, each in its own due order as cog answers to cog in the mill wheel and pinion. Thus were daily mercies, and the weekly returning day of rest with gratitude acknowledged ; thus was our beloved Queen (a re- cent change fi^m his Majesty the King) prayed for, with the high court of Parliament, the Assemblies of our national Zion, and all judges and magistrates of the land, that we (the parishioners of Pyketillim), under them might lead quiet and peaceable lives, that they might be a terror to evil doers and a praise and protection to such as do well. Then when Mr Tawse can^ to the sermon, he tackled it with corresponding impetus. They were not new sermons that he used, but pro- ductions of a long by-gone time, when he had considered him- self a probationer, and they were framed after the manner of i^lair though marked by an occasional juvenile efflorescence of style that was rather out of keeping with the now mature preacher. Such as they were, Mr. Tawse read them ott with a monotonous rapidity that did great violence to all those principles of elocution and punctuation which he was wont to exemplify with impressive emphasis in the audience ot his pupils. The only breaks in the discourse were, when he made a halt to take snuff, or when the exigencies of the case compelled him to lift his head for the purpose of blowino- his nose with his speckled silk handkerchief. "" But as I have said, Mr. Tawse was reckoned an able teacher ; and he laboured away in his vocation with tolerable assiduity, the monotony of the ordinary routine being broken by occasional outbursts of a rather irritable temper, and the less frequent coruscations of a sort of dry humour that lay within him. ^ He had usually a class of two or three Laitiners ” ^ on whom he bestowed much pains, and a good'”“deaPof PEDAGOGICAL. 55 chastisement. These were intended to be the parsons and lawyers of the future ; only the results did not always fulfil the expectations cherished, for I could point to sundry of the Latiners of my time who, at this day, are even less reverend and learned than myself, which is saying a good deal. As to his classes generally, Mr. Tawsehad not much that deserved the name of method in their management ; and still less was there of thoroughness in the little that he had. English gram- rnar was one of the modern improvements which he prided himself on having introduced, and against which not a few of the more practical sort of parents loudly protested, as imply- ing an unwarranted curtailment of the time that should have been devoted to the more useful branches, particularly “ coon- tin.” And I know of one pupil at any rate, who, being much more earnestly bent on play than work at that period of his life, managed to maintain a decent grammatical reputation and a respectable position in the class, without his having ever possessed a copy of any Grammar whatever of his own, or ever looked in the most cursory way at the day^s lesson out of the imperative school hours. The mode adopted was to keep one's acquirements modestly in subordination, and of set purpose avoid being inconveniently near the top of the class. Then when lesson time drew near one could ordinarily manage to obtain a furtive glance of some other body's ^‘buik,” and hastily scan the lesson. With the thing very fresh on the mind, and a deft calculation, based on the number between you and the top, of the particular bit you would have to repeat, you stood a fair chance of getting over the first round creditably ; and that accomplished, it was your own fault if you could not get sufficiently up in the subject by the time the wholei class had been gone over to enable you to meet with impunity any further demands on your erudition at the hands of the dominie. This was a practi- cable course with both the Grammar and “ Catechis ;'' and in the arithmetic department it was quite possible, by judicious guess-work, and '' copying '' from others as opportunity offered, to have gone well through the inevitable Gray,'' rule by rule, and yet be unable to face a very plain question in Proportion” or ''Practice” without heartfelt dread, if it happened to lie outside of Mr. Gray's "epmples.” The annual Presbytery examination has been said to be very much of a farce. In my day it was felt to be anything but that ; for we had one vehement member of Presbytery who broke freely out in scolding fits, which were much dreaded ; while another had 56 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. an appalling facility in scribbling down arithmetical problems that made the hair stand on end to think of, much more to face in the way of attempting their solution ; and thus the yearly appearance of the minaisters came to be the most formidable ordeal to which we were subjected. In the ordi- nary course we dozed away very comfortably, and the pupil who was alive to the current dodges of the time might have as much trifling and remain about as ignorant as he chose, for there was no real system of testing his acquirements, and he only needed to dread being ‘^brought to the scratch” when some extreme aberration on his part had put Mr. Tawse in a thorough rage. Then he might expect a severe over- haul, with a certain amount of punishment by having his lugs ruggit,” the sides of his head cuffed, or a few strokes with the tawrds ” implanted on his palms ; and thereafter things settled down again to the ordinary routine. Now, as I have indicated, it had been felt by many judicious parishioners that the parochial school of Pyketillim, under Mr. Tawse, was too much of a mere high-class academy. The complaint was not that Mr. Tawse's system, as adminis- tered, was lacking in general efflciency and thoroughness, but that he took up his heid owre muckle wfl that Laitin an' Gremmar, an' ither buik leernin — a mixter-maxter o' figures wiThe letters o' the ABC, aneuch to turn the creaturs' heids.'' And indeed it was cautiously averred by some, that the dominie had really driven one pupil doited by the distance he had endeavoured to lead him into the abstruse region of Mathematics. Mr. Tawse himself said the lad was a natural born dunce ; that he had hoped to make a decent scholar of him by dint of hard drilling, but that his '' hams,” after deduct- ing the outer case, might have been contained in an eggshell, and that his own muddled stupidity was the only disaster of an intellectual kind that was ever likely to befall him. The boy was the elder son of Mains of Yawal. Of course. Mains did not relish the insinuation, and complained to Mr. Sleek- aboot of Jonathan's rude style of speech. Oh, well, you know his temper is a little hasty ; but he is a man of sterling principle, and a very competent teacher,” said Mr. Sleekaboot. Still an' on,” replied Mains, ^^it's nae ceevil egg^e to speak that wye aifter he gat 's nain ga^ wi' the laddie?^ In what branches has the boy failed ?” Weel, aw cudna say ; he hisna been makin' naething o' 't ; he's jist a kin' o' daumer't i' the heid like.” PEDAGOGICAL. 57 He has perhaps increased his tasks too much for the boy’s capacity?” j I cudna say aboot ’s capacity— ye canna pji an auF heid I upo’ young shou’ders, ye ken. I suppose he’s*Jist like ither laddies.” ^ ; well, I ’ll speak to Mr. Tawse, and get him i to modify his tasks.” My mel opingan is,” said Mains of Yawal, resolved to have a hit at Mr. Tawse, ^^that the dominie’s nae gryte deykn at the common coontin ’imsel’; an’ that mak’s ’im sae fond to get them on to some o’ that rowles that works by a kin’ o’ slicht o’ han’.” ' Sleight of hand!” said Mr. Sleekaboot, with a smile, what works by sleight of hand?” answered Mains, pulling up, fan I wuntit him to gi’e Sawney a raiA at Ian’ mizzourin’, ^ to qualify ’im for a Ian’ steward or siclikepgin it ever happen’t j sae— there’s naebody wud ken, ye ken— he begood aboot I deem’t by Alg^ra an’ Jiggonometry, an’ threepit owre me’t It was sic an advantage to dee ’t that gate. Noo, I ’m s^ fan I ^wvid Hadden, the grun offisher— an’ there’s nae a capital- ler mizzourer o’ grun in a plain wye i’ the seyven pairishes— cam owre to lay aff a bit o’ oor ootfeedles last year, he not naething but jist the chyne an”s pol^ an’ a bit sclattie an’ skailhe. An’ him an’ me keest it up in a han’ clap.” Mr. Sleekaboot perceived that Mains was rather gratified by his own success in the delivery of this speech. So, instead of attempting further elaborate argument with him, he crept r up his soft side by ostensibly deferring to Mains’s opinions on the practical question of land measuring ; and then promising that he would talk the whole matter over with Jonathan Tawse, and bring him to a right frame of mind toward the younger Mains of Yawal. And Mr. Sleekaboot, without much difficulty, succeeded in healing this breach. But he failed in eradicating the opinion that obtained, especially in the west side of the parish, that it was desirable to have a school better adapted to meeting the wants of those who were bent on a purely practical education— the '' modern side ” in their view, in short. And thus it came about that the side school of Smiddy- ward was established. Sandy Peterkin was one of those ! original geniuses who seem born with an extremely good capacity for acquiring knowledge, and no capacity whatever ^ for turning the knowledge so acquired to any noticeable E 58 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. account, so far as bettering their own position, or benefitting other people connected with them is concerned. In his boy- hood he had sucked in knowledge with a sort of good natured ease and avidity ; and then, when he came within sight of a practical application of the same, Sandy disappointed the hopes of his friends by changing his mind, and turning out a kind of ^^sticket doctor.^^ I really don’t think that Sandy could ever have had sufficient nerve for the medical profession. Then, in an equally erratic fashion, he had gone abroad to seek his fortune, and, after twenty years, returned without finding it. In a general way, then, Sandy had again made his appearance in the locality, willing to settle down, but without any parti- cular vocation, or well-defined idea as to what he would desire to apply himself to. Luckily for Sandy, the agitation on the subject of Mr. Tawse’s shortcomings was at that particular time pretty keen, and the notion of another school rather popular. I would not insinuate that it was because Mr. Sleekaboot opposed the project that Johnny Gibb lent his aid so zealously in patching up the old maltbarn at Smiddyward — which they pierced with two windows of four panes each, at the same time converting the ingle into a hearth — in order to adapt the place as a school. But Johnny certainly did take an active part in planning the structural works, and defray- ing the cost of material and workmanship as well as in recom- mending the new teacher as a byous clever chiel, a feerious gweed coonter, an’ a prencipal han’ at mizzourin grun.” At the date of my story, Sandy Peterkin had conducted his school for only a few years, the usual winter attendance numbering about thirty pupils. In summer it naturally de- creased, and in order to eke out his stipend for that part of the year, Mr. Peterkin was wont, when the hairst play ” came, to hire himself out as a raker, or general errand man, to some of the neighbouring farmers. Such were the two schools and schoolmasters of Pyke- tillim. CHAPTEE X. BENJIE^S CLASSICAL STUDIES. was to Jonathan Tawse, such as I have described him, that the goodwife of Clinkstyle took her youngest son, Benjie, with the view of his addicting himself to the profession of the law. She had unfolded to the dominie her plans re- garding the future of the young man, and wished his advice as to the requisite curriculum of study. ^^Ou, weeV^ said Jonathan, ‘‘we ^11 jist hae to set him on for the regular coorse in classics.” “ I wudna wonder,” answered the goodwife. “ An^ foo mony classes will he hae to gae throu’ syne ? — ye ken he ^s i^ the foort class, an’ complete maiste r o’ the muckle spell-buik, ’cep some unco kittle words ’t ’s jiain fader can mak’ naething o’.” “ Hoot- toot-toot, ye ’re wrang i’ the up-ta.k ’ — it ’s classics — nae classes. Mair plainly, an’ he war a wee thing better grun’it in English — through Mason’s Collection may be — we maun put him to Latin an’ so on.” v-' “ Dis la wvyer s need muckle o’ ’t, noo?” “ The mair the better, whan they want to bamb oozle simple fowk,” said the dominie. “ Like Davie Lindsay’s carman, that gat ’s grey mare droon’t whan he ran to the coort : — They gave me first ane thing they call citandum^ Within aucht days I gat hut Ubellandum ; Within ane month I gat ad oppenendvm ; In half ane year I gat inter loquendum^ An’ syne I gat— how call you it?— acf replicandum ; But I cud never ane word yet understand him.” “ Keep me, Maister Tawse ! ye ’ve sic a heid o’ leernin yersel’. I dinna believe but ye cud mak’ up a prent buik an’ ye war to try. But miAnin he d^ wi’ the less coontin.?” “ No ; certainly not ; he maun hae Mathematics confeerin.” “An’ that be the gate o’ ’t, the seener he ’s begun the better, I wud think, to nae loss time. Cudna ye begin ’im at ance wi’ a bit lesson? ‘ Leern ear’, leern fair,’ they say, an’ Benjie ’s a gr^’ scholar o’ ’s size. He wud bleck ’s br^er that’s twa year ai^er nor him, ony day.” 6o JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. Aweel, lat me see,” said Mr. Tawse, who, having at the tiine no Latin class, had begun to cast about as to the possi- bility of setting one agoing for the winter, I 'll see if I can get anither ane or twa, an' try them wi' the Rudiments — ye may jist get a Ruddiman i' the meanwhile, or we see.” “ That 's the buik that they get the Laitin oot o', is 't?” No, no ; jist the grammar — the rules o' the language.” ^^Itcudna be deen wuntin, cud it? I dinna care aboot vy owre muckle o' that gremmar, 's ye ca' 't. Care or no care, it 's quite indispensable ; an' it 's utter nonsense to speak o' wuntin 't,” said Mr. Tawse, in an irri- tated tone. They 're sic a herrial, that buiks,” pursued Mrs. Birse. Aye, aye needin' new buiks ; but maybe ye mith hae an aul' Kroodymans lyin' aboot I 'm seer Benjie wudna bla^d it — ^ he 's richt carefu' o"s buiks, pj^r thing.” No, no, Mrs. Birse. I 'm nae a dealer in aul' buiks” — Eh, forbid 't I sud mint at that, Maister Tawse ; but an' ye hed hed ane 't ye cud a len't the laddie, I'm seer we wud 'a been richt muckle obleeg't.” “ If ye dinna value yer son's edjcation sufficiently to think it worth yer while to pay for the necessary buiks, jist train 'im for the pleuch stilts at ance.” ^^'Deed, Maister Tawse, I'll dee naething o' the kin'. There 's neen o' 's fader's faimily requarin to work wi' their ban's for a liveliheid, an' it cam' to that, noo. Peter 'll get the tack at hame, 's breeder Robbie 'll be pitten in till a place, an' his sister sanna wunt 'er providin' ; an' gin that war 't a' we cud manage to plenish the best fairm i' the laird's aucht for Benjie ; but fan cr^urs has pairts for leernin, it 's a tem'pin o' Providence to keep them back.” ^ Oh, rara avis in terrisP^ Fat said ye?” Oh, that 's only the Latin way o' expressin' my admiration o' the boy's pairts,” said Mr. Tawse, an' it shows ye vera weel what a comprehensive an' elegant tongue it is. It wud be a perfect delight to ye to hear Benjie rattlin' aff sentences fae Latin authors — I 'm sure it wud.” “ Is that Kroodymans a dear buik, Maister Tawse?” A mere trifle — a maitter o' twa shillin's or half-a-croon.” Weel, I think ye mith jist get it the first time't ye're sen'in to the toon — they'll. maybe gi'e some discoont to the like o' you — an' we can coont aboot the price o"t at the en' o' the raith.” benjie’s classical studies. 6i Ruddiman was procured in due course, and Benjie set to the study of it, along with a lad whom Mr. Tawse had got as a boarder, and who was understood to be the natural son of —nobody knew exactly who. He was an idle boy, but quick enough when he chose to apply himself. And thus he and Benjie made, as Mr. Tawse confessed, an extremely bad team For if the truth must be told, notwithstanding Mrs. Birse’s eulogistic estirnate of Benjie’s literary capacity, as compared TVT paternal parent and elder brothers, none of the Messrs. Birse, junior, had manifested exactly brilliant in- tellectual parts; and any capacity or predilection they had shown had been very distinctly in the direction of intermed- (hing with cattle and horses, and concerning themselves with the affairs of the farm. I don’t think that Mr. Birse, senior was m the least disappointed at this, though of course he had long Ago reconciled himself to the ideA thAt Benjie was some- how to be the great and learned man of the family. Howbeit Ruddiman agreed but ill with Benjie’s tastes, and the conse- quence was that when the first “ raith” was almost ended he had scarcely got past Ego Amo, Tu Amas, and certainly had not the remotest conception of what it was all about. But this was not all. The effect of Benjie’s studies had been to drive him home from school, over and over again, and with growing frequency, in a shattered state of health. Now it was his^ head that was in a dreadful state, and next his a wyme, and Benjie shed many salt tears over his deplorable condition. ^ This state of things could not go on. Clinkstyle growled and averred that his youngest son would be killed by too much learning ; and the goodwife coaxed and coddled with no bene- ficial result. Then she went to Mr. Tawse to ascertain whether he was not tasking the excellent youth too severely, as It was alleged he had done in the case of Mains of Yawal’s eldest son and heir ; and she came back in a great rage, for Mr 1 awse had been' curt and uncomplimentary, and had hinted very plainly something about Benjie “shamming,” after which he abruptly left Mrs. Birse standing outside the door, and pro- ceeded to the interior of the school to finish his day’s labours. V\^el, weel, oman, said Peter Birse, senior, “they wud need a heid o iron ’t could gae throu’ that stuff ; ye ’ll need to pit a stop till t some gate.” r muckle’t ye ken aboot it,” answered Peter s dutiful spouse, determined not to be con- vmced by him at any rate. 62 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. '^Jist wyte than till ye see the upshot. I sudna won'er nor he mak^ the laddie an obje^ for life — min' fat naar hap- pen't wi' Mains's laddie." — Mains's laddie ! Humph ! An' my son hinna some mair sme^dum aboot 'im nor the like o' that ga^ie trypal, it's time 't he war set to herd the laird's geese instead o' followin' aifter edication. Ye micht hae some regaird for ither fowk's feelin's, man, gin ye hae neen for yer nain" i" '' But I 'm nae sayin' 't Benjie hisna a better uptak' nor the like o' him," pleaded Peter apologetically. Better uptak' 1 " exclaimed Mrs. Birse. Sma' thanks t' ye for that ! Foo af'en hiv I seen 'im, peer innocent, bleck you an' 's breeders tee, readin' namie chapters oot o' the Word o' Gweed. An' that 's fat he gets for 's pains ! I 'm seer he sets an example to aul'er fowk." ' Hoot, 'oman ! I wusna meanin' to misca' oor nain lad- die." 4 An' foo did ye dee 't than, Peter Birse ? Tell me that." Peter had not an ^swer ready — in time at any rate — and Mrs. Birse went on, I 'm seer ye ken brawly fat wye my uncle, 't deet Can'lesmas was a year, wan in to be a lawvyer aboot Aiberdeen , an' made jist an ondeemas thing o' siller — as the feck o' them does. Awat he len'it a hantle to the toonship, an' leeft a vast o' property forbye. Peer man, he did little g weed wi' 't i' the hin'er en' ; or some o' 's mith 'a been in a vera dif- ferent se^ivation fae slavin' on till ony ane, takin' ch^irge o' bestial, and milkness, an' a pack o' vulgar trag o' fairm seryan's. But 's wife's freens rmve a heap o' 't aff o' 'im fan he was livin', an' manag't to get the muckle feck o' fat was leeft fan he weer awa'." But aw doot he hed a hantle o' enfluence, or he wudna come on sae weel," said Peter. Aw won'er to hear ye speak, man. Fat enfluence cud he hed ; fan he gaed to the toon, as I 've heard 'im tellin' a di^en o' times, a laddie wi' a tartan plaid aboot 's shou'ders, an’ a' 's spare clahe i' the neuk o' 't ? Forbye, isna there Maister Pettiphog 't fell into my uncle's l^ness, an' was oor a yygent fan ye pat awa' yer second horseman fernyear for strayaigm fae the toon o' the Sabbath nicht, an' gyaun in owre 's bed wi' 's shajuie beets on — a vera respectable man — didna he begin, as he taul 's 'imsel', upo' the ^ sweepin's o' the Shirra Coort.'" ^^True, true," said Peter, in a half bewildered tone. ^^Aweel, aw think it wud be ill's pairt, an' he wudna tak' Benjie for a 'prentice at ance, an' pit 'im o' the road to benjie’s classical studies. 63 mak' a wye o' deein for 'imser. He made a braw penny afi( o' you at ony rate." It was impossible for Peter to answer such powerful and voluble reasoning; and he had virtually succumbed before Mrs. Birse reached the concluding and more practical portion of her discourse, which revealed a part of the plan of Benjie's future of which he had not hitherto got the faintest glimpse, although as now presented it rather commended itself to him. The effect upon Mrs. Birse herself of so fully expressing her sentiments, was, on the whole, soothing. But on one thing she was fully resolved, come what would — to give Jonathan Tawse a snubbing. So, in addressing our promising young gentleman next morning, she said, Ye 'll tak' my compli- ments to Maister Tawse noo, Benjie, an' tell 'im to sen' the accoont wi' ye — the raith's oot at the en' o' this ouk at ony rate — an' gin he canna manage to behave wi' common cee- vility to them 't he's makin' 's breid aff o', and teach their bairns withoot br^n' their health, maybe anither will. Will ye min' that, nooT” What this threat signified exactly, in the mind of the per- son who uttered it, it would perhaps be difficult to guess. At any rate, when Benjie brought the account Mrs. Birse's thoughts took quite a practical shape. Jonathan Tawse's fee for the ordinary curriculum of the school was 3s. 6d. a-quar- ter ; when Latin was included he made it two shillings more ; and when Mrs. Birse saw the enormous charge of 5s. 6d., followed by 2s. 6d. for a half-bound Ruddiman, it was some little time before she could give adequate expression to her feelings. She declared first that she would never pay such an ''extortion;" and next that ere she did pay she would certainly make Peter Birse, senior, face the unconscionable dominie before the " Shirra," where the account would be rigorously "taxed," and the iniquity of its author exposed in the face of the world. The actual result as regards the account itself was that after a while Peter Birse, senior, was sent to pay it, with orders to deliver certain sarcastic remarks bearing on the combined greed and professional incapacity of Mr. Tawse; and which orders Peter, as is usual in such circumstances, did not carry out to the letter ; but, indeed, mumbled some sort of awkward apology for the withdrawal of Benjie from the school ; for, of course, he had been in- stantly rernoved — a result which Benjie seemed in no wise to regret during the interregnum that occurred until it should be determined what should be done with him next. CHAPTER X I. THE KIRK ROAD. shall I describe the Kirk Road of Pyketillim ? Of 1 Road when the parishioners are assembling for public worship that I mean. It IS a beautiful spring Sunday morning of the year 1842. Samuel Pikshule has duly tolled his eight o'clock bell, which sends its billows of pleasant melody rolling over bank and hollow to the furthest end of the parish, amid the still, dewy sunlight; then he has gone and deliberately discussed his breakfast, and shaved off his beard, and washed his face be- fore he would ring ten o'clock and turn the key in the kirk door. It was at a quarter to twelve that Sarnie began to ring the people in. But for good part of an hour before that they were to be seen wending slowly onward in twos and threes by this and that side path into the 'commodation road," which winds along by Smiddyward, Gushetneuk, and Clink- style, and so on over the Knowe and down upon the Kirk- town. As they met on the main road they resolved them- selves into groups, larger or smaller, according to taste and other circumstances. Here is a knot of three or four women including one sturdy old dame, with close mutch, ancient shawl of faded hue, and big umbrella planted firmly under her arm, fine as the day is ; there another couple, one of in- definitely goodwifely aspect, the other evidently a thrifty spinster, and a lassie clanking on in heavy “tacketie” shoes at their skirts, anxious to get what comprehension she may of the semi-prophetic gossip, and to discover the individualities referred to m the confidentially-breathed “ she says, says she ” that occupy the tongues of her seniors. There Dawvid Had- den, ground-officer to Sir Simon Frissal, pulls up, takes off his hat, wipes his brow, lets his wife forgather with whom she may, and the bairns scatter on in front, while he hooks his one thumb in his waistcoat armhole, and puts the other hand below his coat tail to wait for Hairry Muggart, the wright. THE KIRK ROAD. 65 and get the news as they jog socially on, picking up a fit com- panion or two by the way. At other points we have knots of sturdy chaps, free from the plough for one day, and done up according to taste in rough grey tweeds, and with the ends of their brilliant neckerchiefs flying loose, tramping along by themselves ; and skweel loons,^^ on the alert for idle pranks and fully conscious that Jonathan Tawse^s rule is intermitted for the time, now loitering and next scampering on with utmost speed. When the journey is about accomplished, we have no end of friendly inquiries to make as we cluster about the kirkyard j then slowly filter inward to re-group ourselves on the open space in front of the kirk door ; to sit down with a few cronies on the green slope under the venerable trees, or it may be on a “ law stane ” in God’s acre itself, to take snuff and see how far our notes about the weather and the crops agree Samie begins to ring at the quarter, but we let him ring on • and It is only when Mr. Sleekaboot is seen coming up the long walk in full canonicals (we had no vestry in those days) that we betake ourselves to the interior of the kirk, crushing m m a somewhat ramshackle and irreverent fashion it must be allowed, and planting ourselves in attitude to sleep, or observe, as the case may be. But I will not describe the church services farther than has been already done. Our profiting usually was prettv rnuch, I presume, what might have been expected. At the close Mr. Sleekaboot sat down composedly, and the elders seized the ladles —substantially built ladles they were, and had served their purpose for generations past— and peram- bulated the kirk. We gave our '' bawbees '' like loyal Presbv- terians ; that is to say, the head of the family always gave one, and sometimes his wife another, or one of the elder practice which have been most faithfully adhered to m most congregations, town and country, till this day ; insomuch that hundreds of worthy people of fair wealth and position, who would be ashamed to offer less than six- pence to any other good object, proclaim their veneration for the usages of these ancient Christians by carefully abstaining from ever dropping into the “ brod” aught else than a copper / counterfeit presentment” of her Majesty. Well, we did this in the parish church of Pyketillim; and I do not recollect more than once seeing a man— it was up «i’ the IMt”— put a penny into the brqd ” as it was pushed round, and then adjust his offering to the statutory amount by taking out a “ bawbee,” 66 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. When the kirk sk^Pt/^ the scene was different from the gathering. To be sure, if Sarnie Pikshule had a roup to scry," or a strayed stirk to “ adverteese," there was a general and eager clustering about him at the kirk gable, as Sarnie yabbled " out the particulars. But otherwise we put on double steam to what was in use when we were dandering up to the ‘‘courts of the sanctuary," as Mr. Sleekaboot phrased it. Before we were clear of the Kirktown some half dozen of the male parishioners (usually elderly ones, familiar with the dwellers in the Kirktown, and who cared not to carry “ fleer- ish and flint" in their “Sunday claes") had availed them- selves of “ a het sod " to light their pipes ; and the result was seen in a cloudlet of blue smoke rising here and there over the streams of people as they moved on in steady flow east and west ; everybody now marching onward with something of the air of those who have serious business on hand. Now, it so happened that on the particular Sunday morn- ing to which I have made reference, Peter Birse had living with him over the day, as a visitor, a particular friend from “ up-throu’," an ardent agriculturist like himself. The two had been out betimes in the morning and had enjoyed a saunter over Clinkstyle’s fields, discussing matters relative thereto as they went. After the ten o’clock bell had rung in, and long after breakfast, it occurred to Peter as they stood at the top of the garden walk, not knowing well how to occupy them- selves further, that a profitable use might be made of the spare time yet between them and the hour of public worship. “ Nyod, fat wud ye say to takin’ a stap roon b’ the back o’ the wuds gyaun to the kirk. The laird has a puckle fine stirks i’ the Upper Holm park ’t the grieve ’s aye blawin’ abopt ?" r"— * “ Oot already “ Ou ay. They war some sc^nt o’ strae, ye see ; they keep sae mony horse beasts aboot thi place. But they ’re fine lythp parks, an’ e^’ t^ ; beasts mith live i’ them throu’ the winter naar." “I wud like freely weel to see them, man," said the stranger. “Weel, jist heely till I gi’e a cry in’t we’re awa’." And they went by the back of the woods— it was a long way round— where the stirks were duly seen, criticised, and admired. Then they stumbled on a field of the laird’s which the grieve was preparing to be laid down in turnips, and took a “ skance " of what was going on there. THE KIRK ROAD. 67 It 's easy deen for them^t yachts the grun to try protticks wi’ observed Peter. “ He 's been trenching seerly ” said his friend. Ou na; but they hed a gryte strength 0' beasts rivin’^t up wi^ fat they ca’ a subsoil pleuch.^^ The stibble lan^ likein?” Ay, ay, stibbles.” Weel, I cudna say ; aw wud be some dootfu' aboot it. A bit faugh across the rig i' the en’ o’ the year, an’ syne a gweed deep fur ’s better nor turnin’ up the caul’ boddom.” Oh, loshie, ay, man,” said Peter Birse. But than, ye see it ’s a’ ae thing to him fat he pit into the grun gin he can raise a crap ; an’ he ’ll h^d on the manure to the mast-heid, fatever it may cost. They war sayin’ he hed gotten a curn o’ that ga-ano stuff ’t they speak aboot.” Yea, man !” replied the stranger, in a wondering tone. They approached the corner of a field off the road, and stood up on the top of the ‘'backit dyke,” when Mr. Birse exclaimed, Aw div not believe but here ’s a hillockie o’ that ga-ano i’ the neuk o’ the park.” — Peter was right. Guano was then a newly-introduced manure, which he and his friend, who understood the virtues of bone dust perfectly, had not yet seen. The grieve had got a consignment of the Ichaboe variety, whereof he had de- posited a small parcel in the corner of the field to await tur- nip sowing. In a twinkling our two worthies had leapt off the^dyke and were busy examining the guano. “Eh, man, but it’s fushionless-like stuff!” said Peter Birse’s friend, after inquiringly crushing a sample or two be- tween his finger and thumb. Isnin’t a mervel fat wye that cud gar onything grow^” was Peter’s reply. “ But does/t raelly dee ’t, man ?” ^ vVeel, I ’ve nae rizzon to misdoot the grieve’s word ; an’ he taul’ me that it sent up some cabbage kail ’t he try’t it on fernyear like the vera shot o’ a gun.” Man, aw wud like richt weel to try a pucklie o’ ’t. Mithna a body gae the length o’ takin’ the fu’ o’ a sneeshin pen?” « Awat ye may tak’ a niey^u’ on-been miss’t,” said Peter. -C a wudna think it greedy-like, an ’t were kent.” Feint a fears o’ that,” answered Peter Birse. “ But fat wye’ll we cairry’t?” “ Ou, that’ll be easy deen,” said Peter’s visitor, shaking out his crumpled cotton pocket handkerchief: “the dud’ll baud It fine.” ^ 68 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. Weel, it 's keerious I didna think o' that, no." But wunnin ye tak' a starn yersel'?" asked the stranger. ^ “Weel~aw dinna differ. I tell the grieve 't we wus tryin' the quality o' 's ga-ano." And so Peter next spread out his handkerchief, into which he too put a handful of guano. The samples were duly bestowed in the coat pockets of the two friends, who then resumed their journey to the kirk, at which they arrived in due time, highly pleased with their experiences by the way. I do not know how far the suggestion may be necessary that the olfactory nerves of Peter Birse and his friend would not seem to have been particularly sensitive. But had the fact been otherwise, it would appear to me highly probable that the two gentlemen would have had some indications be- fore they entered the kirk of the likelihood of a perfume rather more powerful than pleasant proceeding from their pockets. It would appear, however, that nothing of the sort had disturbed their reflections ; at any rate, the two had entered and gravely seated themselves before the guano had cost them a second thought. Things did not remain long in this quiescent state, however. Mrs. Birse, who seldom came early, entered next, with Miss Birse. Peter and the stranger did not rise to put the ladies into the pew, but, according to use and wont, simply hirsled yont," and made room for them at the end of it. Miss Eliza Birse seated herself and sniffed; then her mother sniffed, and looked first at the floor and then at her husband. And all at once the situation flashed upon poor Peter's mind ! Yes ! He did feel the odour of the guano ; and the man before him, who had turned half round and looked into Peter's pew, evidently felt it too. Sarnie Pik- shule, who was going along the ^^pass" to shut the door, felt it, and stopped short with an inquiring glance around him ; and it was said by those near him that Samuel uttered something ^ about ^^some chiel cornin' there wi' a foumart in's pouch, stechin up the kirk." But what could Clink'^le do ? There he was, shut into the top of the pew, and the service going on. To rise and force his w^y out would be to proclaim his predicament more widely ; for he would without fail perform the function of censer to the congregation all the way to the door. And then it would be of no use unless he took his friend with him. I have no real delight in cruelty to animals, and will not enlarge upon the agony endured by Peter Birse during the sermon. He had no doubt whatever that Mrs. Birse knew tME KIRK ROAt). 69 him to be guilty-~his own imploring look had betrayed him there. He fancied that the eyes of the whole congregation were fixed upon him, and he verily believed that Mr. Sleek- aboot was directing part of his observations towards him personally. The stranger, who seemed to be a placid man, sat perfectly unmoved. On the whole, the incident, which of course, got abroad pretty generally among the people of Pyketillim, did not tend to secure increased respect for Peter ; and it may be added that he was once or twice thereafter judiciously reminded of it by his spouse, as an illustration of the necessity for a more discreet head than his own to decide in, at any rate, all matters of breeding and etiquette. Thus far on the social aspect of the question. Peter's sole defence when put to it was, that he never for a monient supposed he could be wrong in following the example of his visitor, who, moreover, was a distant relative of Mrs. Birse ; and that neither of them dreamt that the ga-ano cud hae hed sic a rank kneggum." To his surprise Mrs. Birse replied, with not a little solem- nity, Weel-a-wat, ye needna be supris't nor it be a jeedg- ment o' ye for brakin' the Sabbath." CHAPTEE XII. THE SMIDDYWARD PRAYER MEETING. VER since the time of his visit to the Wells in 1839, Johnny Gibb had been applying his mind more actively than before to the current ecclesiastical questions. The con- versation of his Marnoch friend had given him an impetus in that direction, which occasional epistolary communications from the same quarter, with accounts of the exciting intru- sionist scenes enacted there, as recorded in the newspapers, had served to prolong and intensify. And whereas Johnny^s burden against a jolly and ease-loving clergy had pre- viously partaken very much of the nature of a general de- nunciation of them as dumb dogs who cannot bark,” he had now learnt clearly to distinguish between Moderates ” and Evangelicals,” and these words were frequently on his lips. In the person of Mr. Sleekaboot, moreover, Johnny deemed that he found the very incarnation of Moderatism. This fact set the worthy man terribly on edge, and as the sounds of controversy in the Church courts fell ever and anon on his wakeful ears, he felt it only the more incumbent on him to stand boldly up for the good cause. His right-hand man in this crisis was Roderick M^Aul, the souter at Smiddyward, and it so happened that about the date now reached in my narrative, the Rev. Alister Macrory, whom the souter had known in his youth, and of whose gifts and piety he had a good opinion, but who, by some mischance, had hitherto failed in getting tied to any parish in particular, was passing through the region, and felt that he could not do less than call upon his old acquaintance, by whom he was hospitably entertained. Johnny Gibb, of course, was asked over to enjoy the visitor’s conversation ; and it then occurred to the two friends that, as the Rev. Alister Macrory was not particularly pressed for time, they might retain his services for a few weeks, and give the parishioners of Pyketillim the opportunity for once of hearing the Gospel preached. It was an easy matter to secure the use of Sandy Peterkin’s school for the purpose, and it was secured accordingly. THE SMIDDYWARD PRAYER MEETING. 71 The school at Smiddyward was not an imposing structure, either as regards external appearance or interior decoration. It was straw-thatched, with the door halved transversely, and not longitudinally ; and inside there were desks and seats of a very plain sort for about forty pupils. The roof was an '' open one, with the '' wood work '' quite '' visible '' (so far as the accumulation of soot thereon admitted), and not less so the divots that over-laid it. There Sandy Peterkin bore rule. His school, let me say, was thriving in a way that fully equalled Sandy's most sanguine expectations. I don't think, however, that these were very extravagant. The first of Mr. Macrory's services had been held in the school on a week-day evening, with an audience that half filled the place ; and the event had caused no little talk in the parish. Johnny Gibb precented," a service which the older parishioners could recol- lect his having occasionally performed, on emergencies, in the parish kirk, many long years ago ; and the energetic oratory of Mr. Macrory, without any paper" to aid him therein, was fitted to startle, apart altogether jfrom the matter, by the very contrast it presented to the perfectly unimpassioned perfor- mance of Mr. Sleekaboot, as he read over once more the well-thumbed MS., which the more attentive parishioners knew so well by head-mark that they could give you day and date of its last preaching, and also predict, with tolerable ac- curacy, the next time it would be put to the same use. But the Rev. Mister Macrory, albeit a little uncouth and violent m his manner, and given to shaking his fist and staring directly forward at a particular point in his audience, as if he wanted to single you out individually to be preached at, was to all appearance, a man really in earnest, and the general impression made by his discourses was something new in the quarter. Now, It so happened that at the very time Mrs. Birse with- drew her hopeful younger son, Benjie, from the pedagogic rule 01 Jonathan Tawse, one or two little incidents had occurred fitted to stagger that eminently prudent matron, and even to some extent to shake her belief in the human race generallv. Miss Birse had spent the winter in Aberdeen, in attendance at a lashionable ladies' seminary ; and, let me say it, had been wonderfully successful in picking up that uneasy polish, and those stilted conventional phrases that lend such a charm to the manner of our proper and properly-trained young ladies. She was coming home '' finished" in a style that should make her an acquisition in the best society in the parish. So thought 72 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. her mamma ; and the idea had occurred to her, that, as Eliza had boarded with a distant relative whose hospitality was deemed amply repaid by the presentation of a half-stane kebbuckie,^' once for all, with a dozen of eggs and a pound or two of butter every month, when fresh linen was despatched to the interesting young lady, Benjie might be sent to some school of classic repute, and fill his sister's vacated place as a lodger on the same terms. Mrs. Birse was scandalised when the ungrateful people made it known that they ^^cudna tak' a countra loon on nae accoont — they hed owre mony mou's to fill o' their nain;" and she was more than scandalised at the “ dryness " exhibited by them towards Eliza at parting, when the goodman of the house, as it seemed, had had to carry her things " past Kittybrewster to the Flyboat " house, and to supplement for Miss Birse the sixpence she was short of her fare homeward by that admirable medium of communication. I 'm seer fowk wudna ken fat to dee to keep doon the ill crap o' some creaturs. Fan they war onfeelin aneuch to try a pay^nt's hert b' refeesm the laddie, peer innocent, they notna 'a latten oot their breath upo' her ; mony a bare aneuch day has she kent wi' them ; an' weel may seem — her vera frocks needin' takin' in to keep them onfa'en aff o' her body. An'^ she hedna hed bawbees to get pieces till 'ersel' files, oot o' sicht o' their bairns, aw div not believe but she wud 'a got' ten a mischief o' hunger." So said Mrs. Birse, in her indignation. However, as Benjie could not be transferred to Aberdeen, a dilemma had occurred ; and during its continuance Master Benjamin, as has been said, seemed in nowise indisposed to enjoy rural life ; in such forms as, for example, those of walking with Tam Meerison at the plough for hours, and riding the pony to water and back, and grooming it, despite the warn- ings of his mother as to the degrading tendency of such oc- cupations on a young man destined to learned pursuits. His next elder brother being intended for the farm, it mattered less how his education was picked up. So things had gone on for some weeks, when all of a sudden Mrs. Birse announced that Benjie was to be sent to Sandy Peterkin to continue his studies. Peter Birse, senior, shook his head dubiously and protested. But Mrs. Birse was firm. Finding sundry other arguments unavailing, Peter urged — But, ye ken, Sandy disna preten' to be claer o' the Laitin 'imsel', 'oman ; an' ye cudna expeck him to leern 't weel till ithers." THE SMIDDYWARD PRAYER MEETING. ^3 fK r ^ preten’s to be claer upon ’t that maks but a peer shot at leernin ithers.” ^ An’ W Maister Tawse hedna Benjie lang.^' at it ^ loon, haill twa year at It , an aifter a , his peer fader waf^rced to pack ’im awa' to the sea The fient a flee hed he le^'t but a lot o’ ill Ss An’^th^t gweed-mither taul’ me oot o”er ain mou. n that aul , greedy, sneeshinie howffin gaen bn chair^in’ aii “ sfvTbarr *’ 'i“- A boS“ to say that the peer innbcent was feingyin fan he tveuk a Surs.’>'"‘ rn^ner an’ 111 natur’ ’t fligs the tinue^Peter'. niinaister ’ll be ill pleas’t," con. r fat afif o’ him ' f gweed hens as ever swally’t black dist fae this toon at Aul’ Yeel ; but I b’lieve, though they hed P^l^'ls’ at the Manse i’ tL coorse o’ the ^Winter, w never bruik breid wi^ them But it wudna dee to ofi^ the minaister, ye ken— gin fowk war in t ribbl e or onythmg ^— ^ ®*” tn H are yer^y thinkin’ aboot ? Fat has that to dee wi’ the edication o’ fowk’s bairns ? Maister Sleekabool gweed aneuch man in ’s ain place, an’ he war latt’n ft ? ijf t°cht to ken better. Leddies !— they wud neld But the peer man’s siclike led, ’t aw raelly Mieve it ’s GospdT’ ^ Gushetneuk says that he does w/ preach the Keep me, ’oman, 1 won’er at ye speakin’ that gate His preachin’ ’s a hantle better nor we practeese ” ^ they saf^hi^TblK’?® speakin’ the trowth fan mey ^y that , but he s a rael wor’dly-min’et person.” weel^ern’t.’’ ^ weel-meanin’ man, an’ a fot Bo got’s nain cronies a’ richt, he winna earn 'i- kKfo arS^ddyward’^N^e cln^efTandy Pe/if! ^ he s weel worth the bearin’, an’ we;s,^t biS’ gft aUrd B ^as in vain for Peter to remonstrate. Mrs Birsn haH Tawse ^ and fh Sleekaboot and Jonathan lawse,^and she was resolved to open a campaign agains" 74 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. j\r both. Jonathan would be punished by the conclusive with* drawal of her sons from his school, and sending them to that of his rival ; and she knew that by their going to hear an itinerant preacher Mr. Sleekaboot would be at once incensed in a high degree, which would be likely to give opportunity for at least reminding him, as she knew how, of his shortcomings in tending his flock. It was on the evening appointed for the second sermon or address that the goodwife of Clinkstyle led her reluctant spouse down to Smiddyward. Their business with Sandy Peterkin was easily despatched, Sandy, who honestly con- fessed that his classics were a little rusted, undertaking to do the best he could with Benjie ; and they were then free to at- tend the meeting. ‘‘ Ou, ay, it 's a prayer meetin’ the nichv^ said Sandy Peter- kin, when Mrs. Birse had announced her intention. I ’m gaen awa' to pit up the lichts— they ’ll be gedderin eenoo. Ye ’ll jist sit still at the fireside here. I winna be a minute in bein’ back.” , , , r 'Sandy groped in his aumry till he got hold of two penny candles, one of which he put in a tin candlestick, while he stuck the lower end of the other into a turnip suitably exca- vated. He lighted one of them, and when he had sidled away out, endeavouring to keep the wind from it until he should reach the school, Peter Birse made a last despairing appeal to his wife. Keep’s, ’oman, did ye hear that?” Hear fat?” Sandy says it’s a prayer meetin’, an’ nae a preachm . “Weel, an’ fat for no?” '' Ye seerly winna gang till ’t than? ” '' There ’ll naebody tak’ a bite o’ ’s though we dee.” ^ Hoot, ’oman, it’s ower s^ious for jokin’. It’s as ill s the vera missionars. There wus never the like heard o’ in this pairii!.” .... , ^ “ This pairis’ ! humph ! This pains’ is some mark or . than no.” , . , , j Fat will the minaister say, an’ my am gweed-breeder ane o’hisel’ers?” , ^ t Peter’s remonstrances were cut short by the return ot Sandy Peterkin, who announced that they were now feckly geddePt.” So at his goodwife’s beck and bidding, and in the circumstances, as to public facts, and general feeling,, which he had accurately described, Clinkstyle had to do his THE SMIDDYWARD PRAYER MEETING. 73 meedng direct violence involved in attending a prayer When they entered, the audience was found to consist mainly of women and young people, though, as far as might be seen by the dim candle light, there were six or eight grown- up men present. ^ * Mr. Macrory conducted the opening services, and then read and expounded a chapter, making sundry very pointed applications ; and leaving it to be clearly understood that the cold morality which was droned into the ears of the people roin Sabbath to Sabbath, was of no avail to save either the teacher or the taught from everlasting perdition. The sort of direct onslaught, both in word and look, in which the speaker ^ of perfectly np ^ appearances, others of his neighbours could have dispensed with some small part of Mr. Macrory s energy, without complaining. As for Mrs Birse" of edifying demureness ; and took Mrs. Gibb, who were seated near by the preacher their servants, Jinse Deans and Willie M'Aul, with “the lassie” occupying the seat next behind them. Mr. Macrory had finished his exposition ; he gave out a psalm to be sung and then, when the singing was concluded, in a very audibfe and deliberate tone announced that “ Our brother, Mr. M'Aul will Pm ^ Electric start am^ni L to sit f ^“‘1‘once at this intimation, as much fw h engage m prayer!” And, no doubt if they had known the ancient adage primarily applying to men his railing, they would have mentally repeated it. All the same they felt the sentiment therein expressed. It had be- abroad that Roderick M'Aul kept up Ilndrv customers who hL it sundry times accidentally stumbled in when he was about to commence, had gone through sensations which they were shy of attempting to describe, on being asked by Rodericrto foil that Roderick M'Aul should stand up before a public audience, and offer up prayer--Roderick M Aul, who was just a souter, and with not a shred of clerical of ^ the most fervid imagination among the general bodv th. . of Pyketillim, that not only dfd seferM of ?oubT thetLr Se “T Lfin some count whether they stood with their heads or their heels 76 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. uppermost, but the news of what had occurred spread rapidly through the parish next day. The deed was declared by several to be “daurin,” and by quite as great a number to be blashpheemous.” Nevertheless, the example set by the souter did not, 1 think, fail in having its effects. If the simple and fervent, albeit slightly ungrammatical, utterance of the devotional feelings within him had the effect of dumfoundering and scandalising some, there were others of his audience that were impressed in a more wholesome way ; and among these was Johnny Gibb, who went home with the honest conviction in his breast that Roderick M'Aul was a better man than himself. “ For,'' said Johnny, “he's ready to confess Christ afore men aifter a fashion that I hae never mintit to dee yet. CHAPTEE XIII. THE DISTRIBUTION MEETING— ECCT.ESIASTICAL OPINIONS. t F course, Mr. Sleekaboot was speedily made acquainted with the operations of the Rev. Alister Macrory at Smiddyward ; but he took it all very coolly. There had been ranting fanatics in the world long before now, and there would no doubt be so to the end of time, said the Rev. Mr. Sleekaboot. At the quarterly ''distribution,” when all the bawbees gathered by the " brod ” for the by-gone three months were to c, be fully reckoned and apportioned, the elders met at the Manse ; and each got his share to pay over to the various reci- pients — quiet, and not particularly uncomfortable old "bodies” of both sexes ; real old residenters, not your modern paupers of the clamorous, thriftless, and unsatisfied sort. And this part of their duty the Session discharged with creditable assiduity, and even more than creditable humanity. Have I not seen Mains of Yawal, who lived farthest from the kirk, time after time, carrying home his portion of the offering, all too bulky to go into any pouch he had, carefully enclosed in his blue- spotted "pocket-napkin,” and dangling in his hand with solid weight.^ And he would thereafter go his round, be it fair night or foul, to see Saun'ers Tapp, and Lizzy Glegg, and their ancient contemporaries, and all to give to each his or her due share of the offering bawbees. But, meanwhile, I am not concerned with the details of the distribution. Sometimes when the elders met to arrange for it at the Manse — though, I daresay, this formed no p^t of the res gestce to be minuted by Jonathan Tawse— the se- derunt would be wound up by a quiet glass of toddy. Such was the case at the distribution meeting that occurred just two nights after Mr. Macrory's meeting at Smiddyward. And the elders were all present, with the exception of Clink- style’s sister’s husband, Braeside. Of course the subject of the prayer meeting came up. JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. An' fa div ye think sud 'a been there bearin' this ranter but Chnkstyle an' 's wife ?" said Mains of Yawal. ‘‘ Poor man, poor man," answered Mr. Sleekaboot, with a smile. '' I fancy he had hardly been left to the freedom of his own will in the matter." ‘'Deed I can believe yer richt there, sir," said Mr. Tawse, taking a heavy pinch of snuff. “ That wife o' his is a perfect Xantippe." Oh — I presume she heckled you when she withdrew her precious son from the school." ^ “For that maitter I can usually gi'e as gweed as I get," said Mr. Tawse. “ But she 's a rude, vulgar hizzle. natheless ; an' for the loon, I never ruggit the lugs o' a more complete dunce." “Did you venture to tell that in the audience of the ma- - ternal ears, Jonathan ?" asked the minister, the jocularity of the query being shared in by only the dominie and himself, as the rest of the company failed to catch its flavour, couched in such refined English. “ Deed, I believe I fell little short o' 't. But what was that ve was sayin'. Mains, aboot this fanatic, Macrory,settin' the souter to gi'e a prayer at the meetin' in Sawney Peterkin's hovel “ Oh, it was fat they ca' a prayer meetin' ; an' aifter he hed roar't on for a file 'imsel', he cries oot ‘Some broder'll engaige noo ;' fan up startit the souter an' gya them a screed o"t by ordinar'. Severals o' them hed been sair pitt'n oot aboot it, aw 'm thinkin'." “An' little won'er," quoth Teuchitsmyre, the other new elder, who was a fat, red-nosed man, with a very thick neck. “ Ta'en a fup to them wud 'a saiPt them richt." ^ “ An' heard you who all were present asked Mr. Sleek- aboot. “Weel, aw'm thinkin' Gushetneuk an"s wife, forbye, I . : was sayin', the fowk o' Chnkstyle. The 1^ wud be fecklyH ' the aul' wives aboot the Ward, an' maybe afyou young fowk." “ Did John Gibb take any part ^ “ Eh— aw didna hear that said ; but he 's been ane o' the heid deesters aboot feshin this Macrory to the pairt." “A fractious, heids^ong creatur," said Jonathan Tawse. “But there's some brains in 'im tee; that was aye my opinion." “ He 's too anxious to make himself and his opinions pro- minent," answered Mr. Sleekaboot. j “ It was a great mistak' in you, Mr. Sleekaboot— savin' | THE DISTRIBUTION MEETING. 79 the presence o' Mains an' Teuchitsmyre—to keep Gushets an' the souter oot o' the eldership." How, how — men who act thus ?" Ou ay, but an' they hed been made pillars i' the kirk, like the lave o' 's, ye wud hae heard less o' ony sic divisive coorses, depen' ye upon 't," said the dominie. I don't know ; we " — My dear sir, fan did ye ever hear o' an el'er in the parish o' Pyketillim gaen aboot a kwintra side cantin' an' prayin', as this souter does, it seems ? An', tak' ye my word for 't, ye'll hae Gushetneuk followin"s example neist." ‘‘ Well, but Mr. Tawse," said the minister, evidently dis- posed to get very serious on the point, as I was saying, and as you know, we must take good care for the order of the Church. There can be nothing more perilous to the peace of our Zion than the presence of unbridled spirits in office within her bosom. And I, in the position of spiritual head of this parish, I being responsible alike to the Presbytery and the patron Sir Simon Frissal, I would never for a moment brook the revolutionary opinions held by those men.” ‘‘Ye 're vera richt, Maister Sleekaboot— vera richt,” said Mains, with great emphasis. He was getting hot and red in the face ; and I think had by this time based his opinion on a tolerably wide induction, when, suddenly changing the theme, and emptying his glass, he added, “Nyod, that's capital ^euchitsmyre nodded approvingly, and said, “It's the rael Glendronach, seerly.” “ Weel, weel, as ye please, sir,” replied Mr. Tawse. ‘‘ I was half jokin', ye ken. But ye canna won'er though a sair- dung dominie sud try to save 's nain credit by sayin' that it mitha been worth while, as a stroke o' policy, till hae latt'n Clinks tyle on to the el'er ship.” “He would have been in nowise a more efficient member of session than his excellent relative, Braeside.” “ Neen, neen — ^jist sax i' the ane an' half-a-dizzen i' the ither. Baith hornless breets. But ye see Braeside hisna an ambitious wife — D'ye see my drift? Hooever, to pass fae that point, I think ye raelly ocht in someway, to tak' an order o' these fanatics.” “Of Gibb and M‘Aul?” “ Na, na ; ye had better lat ill alegn there. But it mithna be difficult to frichten Peterkin fae gi'ein' that bit hole to lat them meet in.” 8o JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. Well; It 11 die out. There has been in all ages of the Christian Church, as I have said, an ever recurring tendency, especially arnong the unlearned, to lapse into fanaticism ; mough the admirable organisation and discipline of our own Church have effectually repressed serious outbreaks at all times.” An’ may it be for ever sae,” said J onathan Tawse. '' But fat are ye to mak’ o’ a’ this uncanny steer o’ the Non-intrusion pairty i’ the kirk ? Ye ’ll hae some difficulty ccEteris parihis, in disciplinin’ the major pairt o’ the Kirk itsel’.” Mr. Tawse,” said the minister, with a half chuckle, but It s not a case of cceteris paribus, my good friend. There IS such a thing as the law of the land, and the civil power. With that at our back, we need never fear the hot-headed party m the Church. Keep yourself easy.” ^ my rest, sir. But I dinna muckle like the luik o these bits o’ collisions atween the spiritual poo’er as they ca ’t, an’ the civil : siclike as in the by-gone case o’ Lethendy ; an syne, nearer han’ hame, at Marnoch ; whaur, in the first case, the Coort o’ Session steps in to interdict a sat- tlement by a Presbytery ; an’ in the neist its aid is requir’t to force an unacceptable presentee on a congregation. An’ of coorse, I needna speak o’ the starshie sinsyne still nearer oor ain door, at Culsalmond, wi’ the goodman o’ Teetaboutie.” Well, I have you there, Jonathan. General arguments are never so convincing as special facts. I ’m glad that the brethren in Strathbogie had the firmness to endeavour to vindicate the just rights of presentees. Here you have an in- stance in my own case. When I had the honour of receiving a presentation from Sir Simon to the Parish of Pyketillim, I met a very cold reception, let me tell you, from the people. ’ I don’t believe that, but for the personal presence of Sir Simon —with whom, though I say it myself, I stood high from the first — half-a-dozen people in the parish would have signed the call then. Now, I ’m sure, there ’s not half-a-dozen in the whole parish who would not sign it.” I ’m seer o’ that, sir,” said Mains of Yawal ; and Teuchits- myre’s whole body gave a confirmatory hitch.” So much for the popular voice— nothing could be more delusive,” added Mr. Sleekaboot, with an air of something like triumph. I do not know that the Rev. Jonathan Tawse would have disputed this last sentiment at any rate ; but inasmuch as he in his own case had not been so fortunate as Mr. Sleekaboot THE DISTRIBUTION MEETING. 8l in finding a backer to enable him to get over the initial un- popularity incidental to him as a preacher, there was not exactly identity of feeling between him and his respected minister on this particular point. Therefore Jonathan took snuff afresh, refilled his tumbler, and incontinently turned the conversation to topics more congenial to Mains and Teuchits- myre, who, being unable to follow the high argument that the two divines had got into, had contented themselves by listen- ing with as much of an elderlike and interested air as they could manage to assume. The weather, and the markets for grain and live stock, subjects of common interest, and on which the whole party could speak with practical intelligence, were discussed ad longa^n^ during the latter part of the evening. The case put by Mr. Sleekaboot, and which had brought the ecclesiastical part of the conversation to a close, had been, all through the early part at least of the Ten Years^ Conflict, his standing illustration of the utter fallaciousness of the Non-intrusion principle. He had quoted it repeatedly to his brethren, as well as to outsiders, and had even ventured to direct the attention of Sir Simon Frissal to it. Sir Simon had signified his approval, and added, Yes, yes, your style was very poor, indeed,'' whereat Mr. Sleekaboot was much gratified. Now, it so happened in course of this very spring of 1842, and not many weeks after the ^^distribution," that Johnny Gibb was jogging home on a market night on his trusty grey pony, and whom should he overtake but the Rev. Andrew Sleek- aboot, jogging home too, from the Presbytery. Johnny's principle of action, as regarded differences between himself and others, was always to ‘Munt it oot" as he went along. Con- sequently, when he and Mr. Sleekaboot met, Johnny hailed the minister as freely and frankly as if they had never cas'en oot " in their lives. And Mr. Sleekaboot, who had a lingering suspicion that it might be otherwise, felt once more somewhat warmed towards his parishioner, of whom he, under the mild impulse of the moment, almost thought there might be hope even yet. Johnny was keen on ecclesiastical matters, at any rate, and perhaps his disposition toward debate had not been lessened by his share in a friendly gill with a neighbour at the stableFs, before he took out his ‘^shalt." His questions *\ about what the Presbytery had been doing did not elicit much information, but Mr. Sleekaboot could not help being dragged into a discussion on the general Church question, 82 jOtiNNY GIBB OF GGSHETNEUK:. when it became more and more evident to him that Johnny Gibb was a very distinct and confirmed specimen of the Non- intrusionist. So he determined for once to floor Johnny. They had just got to the point where their roads separated, and they and their shalts " paused in the gloamin light. I tell you it ^s the greatest delusion in the world. A veto law against a presentee involves the greatest fallacy as well as the greatest injustice and then Mr. Sleekaboot began the irrefutable illustration, When I was settled at Pyketillim I don’t believe that I would have got almost any of the pa- rishioners to have signed the call ” — But here Johnny broke in abruptly — An’ ye kent it weel. Sir ; feint a vera mony wud ye get yet!” ^ Mr. Sleekaboot was grievously taken aback. In place of finishing the statement of his favourite illustration, he said something about the insolence of ignorant, uneducated per- sons,” whereat Johnny, who had at least equalled his pastor in the rapidity with which he managed to get up his temper, retorted in words perhaps more vehement than respectful. And so they parted; Mr. Sleekaboot riding off toward the Manse, while Johnny turned the head of the grey ^^shalt” in the direction of Gushetneuk. CHAPTEE XIV. TAM MEERISON^S PRIVATE AFFAIRS. ©IX months after the date of his removal from Gushet- neuk, Tam Meerison had once more to decide on the question of renewing his engagement with his master, or seeking a new one. His experiences at Clinkstyle had not been altogether of the most pleasant sort, whether as regards his master or mistress or his fellow-servants, and the natural conclusion would have been that Tam certainly would not stay longer there. ^ But conclusions in such cases are some- times affected by circumstances which it is not so easy to guess at. A day or two before the feeing market day it had leaked out that Tam was ^‘bidinY^ and the fact considerably inten- sified the feeling of contempt that his fellow-servants had been in the habit of occasionally exhibiting towards him. They had hoped to leave Clinkstyle with ‘^a clean toon” again, and they were angry at being disappointed. While Peter Birse manifested his satisfaction by talking more than usual to Tam, or stalking along for a bit with him at the plough, the lads lost no opportunity of throwing out a taunt at his craven resolution ; or reminding him of those by-gone interludes when Mrs. Birse had chosen to express her private opinion of him and his. Doubtless these taunts were not pleasant ; but I don’t know that they weighed most on Tam’s mind at that particular juncture. In point of fact, the state of Tam’s affections, combined with the adverse influences that seemed to be arraying themselves against him, kept him in a state of no little anxiety. Tam now bitterly regretted that pig-headed sense of self-importance on his part, which had made him, without the shadow of a valid reason, decline Johnny Gibb’s first overture to re-engage him at the previous term ; and thus had earned for him a bad situation in place of a good one — precisely the course that I have seen many more of Tam’s class follow, to reach exactly the same end. But this was not all. Tam was seriously in love with Jinse Deans. Whether Jinse had hitherto reciprocated his passion 84 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. in any true sense, I would be loth to venture an opinion. It was certain received Tam as a suitor ; but it was equally certain that Tam was not the only person so favoured. Tam knew this. Nay more, while he had over and over again inet with what he reckoned ‘^slichts” at the hands of his en- cnantress, he had an agonising suspicion that Johnny Gibb^s new man, his own successor, and whom Johnny had de- scribed at first sight as a ''stoot gudge an' a gatefarrin," was f Jinse. Ah ! poor Tam, thou wert truly out of the frying-pan into the fire ! Tam had writhed under and sought to resent the slight scorchings he had to endure from the youth Willie M^Aul on the subject of his courtship ; next, he had assumed the high horse with Johnny Gibb, and then left Gushetneuk, a half-repentant man, allowing his successor to come in and court his sweetheart at leisure. Whereas, had he remained there still, he would have had opportunities for baulking competitors which none other could have had. It was like abandoning a strongly defensive posi- tion m face of the enemy. So thought Tam Meerison, and his meditations were not sweet. When the next term approached, Tam accordingly contrived to get early information about Johnny Gibb's ar- rangements. Unhappily for him, his successor at Gushet- neuk was ^^bidinV «Jist like 'im ; inhaudin scoonrel," thought Tam. However that might be, Tam had got a little bocht wit on the subject ; and he felt that, if he stood at a certam disadvantage with Johnny Gibb's ^‘stoot gudge" in- asmuch as the gudge, being at Gushetneuk, had so much readier access to Jinse than he had, being at Clinkstyle; then if he left Clinkstyle, and ran the risk of having to transport himself several miles farther off, his position and prospects would be yet farther damaged in proportion to the increased distance. Therefore it was that Tam Meerison made up his mind to bear the ills he had, and to remain at Clinkstyle. Another six months had passed, and left his courtship much m the same state ; but by that time Tam had put his foot m it, by talking disrespectfully of Master Benjamin Birse. It was in the kitchen, and, though Tam was not aware of it. Miss Birse was behind the inner door," where we have heard of her being before. What Tam had said was to the effect that Benjie was an orpiet, peeakin, little sinner ;" and that he was fitter to be a dog-dirder, or a flunkey, nor to gae to the college ;" sentiments which — TAM MEERISON’S PRIVATE AFFAIRS. 85 although they seemed to meet with a rather hearty response from the audience immediately before him— when retailed to Benjie's mother, were productive of a storm, that thereafter burst with no little fury about Tam’s ears. Tam’s mood, I fear, had been desperate at any rate, and he now retorted on Mrs. Birse by somewhat bluntly telling her she “mith be prood to see ’er loon wi’ a pair o’ yalla breeks an’ a strippet waistcoat on; it wud be ten faul better nor be a muckle good- man, wi’ a wife that wudna lat ’im ca ’s m^ his ain. Mrs. Birse took this as personal. And when the term came, Tam left Clinkstyle, half reckless, as it seemed, of his fate; for surely Jinse’s heart was too hard to win, and what else need he care for! . r j Tam Meerison had gone off to a distance of over a dozen miles and for the next twelve months the region of Pyke- tillim' saw nothing, and I really believe heard very little ot and still less from, him. For Tam was not a man of the pen. He had, indeed, learnt to write a sort of decent small text at school, but the accomplishment was of wondrous little use to him. He never wrote letters, except on very pressing emer- gencies, and not more than three or four of these had occurred since he became a man. It was not the mere writing that dismayed him, it was the composition ^ foo to begin and the “ backin’.” These were the grand obstacles; and Tam s chief exercise in penmanship had been the occasional copying of some approved receipt for the composition of blacking for horse harness, in the way of friendly interchange with a crome. At the Martinmas of 1841, Johnny Gibb changed his principal man-servant. The gudge, whose ambition it was to rise, was leaving on a friendly understanding, with a view to go to school for a quarter with Sandy Peterkin, to rub the rust off his literary and arithmetical acquirements, and then learn the business of a mole-catcher when spring came, and Johnny promoted Willie M'Aul, now grown a stout lad of over nineteen, to his place. The gudge had been at the feeing market, from which he came home at a pretty late hour, and in high spirits, with sweeties in his pockets, not merely for Jinse, but for Mrs. Gibb as well, when fit opportunity should occur for presenting them. , , t- r ‘‘An’ fat’s the news o’ the market, mm?” asked Jmse of the gudge, who had seated himself at the top of the “ deece” to eat his supper. , r i » “ Little o”t; slack feein’; an’ plenty o’ drunk fowk. “ The waages doon?” 86 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. “Boon! Ayaiethey. Gweed men feein^ at seyven-pun- ten; an women for oot-wark hardly winnin abeen a poun' note. Am dizzens never got an offer.” “ It;s braw wardles wi’ them ’t disna need to fee” said Jmse with a sly reference to the gudge’s hopeful prospects. Weel, Jmse, fat encouragement is there to the like o’ me to bide on an loss my time at fairm wark ? Ye may be the best han t ever gaed atween the pleuch stilts, but ye can never get an ondependent, or sattlet wye o’ deein.” Div ye mean a place o’ yer nain ?” Wed, gin a body cud hae the chance o’ gettin’ a bit craitie. But I 11 appel to yersel’, Jinse— Fat comes o’ maist ilka fairm servan”t gets a wife?”-(and the gudge looked sweetly on Jmse) they ’re forc’t to tak’ to the dargin, an’ gae^awa ^ bide aboot the Broch, or some gate siclike.” But hmna ye nae mair news ?” said Jinse, desirous of turning the conversation. In fack, there ’s nae chance but slave on to the eff o' the chapter ; oonless ye win in to some ither wye o' deein in time, continued the gudge, whose own scheme naturally occupied a favourable place in his thoughts at the time. u market,'' said Jinse. Weel, fat news wud ye like Fa 's bidin or flittin' Weel, I didna hear particular. Ye see I was oot o' the throng a gey file arreengin some things o' my nain.” (^eeshtens, ye've seerly been sair ta'en up. Didna ye trafhke neen wi' common fowk the day ?” ^ '' Ou weel, ye see, fan a body has some buzness o' their nam to atten' till they're nae sae sair ta'en up wi' fat's ^aen on in general.” ^ Sawna ye nae bargains made ava , '' Weel, the only bargain 't aw cud say 't aw saw was Mains o Yawal feein a third horseman. I was in 'o Kirkie's tent gettin a share o' a gill wi' a cheelie 't I was ance aboot the toon wi, fan Mains cam' in, skirpit wi' dubs to the vera neck o s kwite. ^ I didna ken the chap, naething aboot 'im, but fan they war jist aboot bargain't. Mains luiks owre an' refars to me. That 's an aul' servan' o' mine,' says he to the chap an ye can speir at him aboot the place.' Theyhed thireepit on a lang time ; but an coorse wus cornin' nearer 't afore Mains socht the drink, an' at length he bargain't wi' 'im for a croon oot o’ seyven poun’ to ca’ ’s third pair; an’ that was the only bargain ’t I saw.” TAM MEERISON’S PRIVATE AFFAIRS. 87 Did ye see ony 0 ’ oor fowk — or hear ony thing aboot them ?” I didna see neen o’ yer breeders/’ '' I wud like richt to ken gin they be flittin’ or no. Neen o Clinkstyle’s fowk bidin’, aw reckon ?” asked Jinse. “That’s weel min’et,” exclaimed the gudge, with some vivacity. “Sidin’! na, nae lickly ; but fa div ye think’s cornin’ there again ?” , „ , ^ “ Cornin’ there again ? Fa cud tell that— somebody hard up for a place, seerly ?” “list guess.” , j , T • ) “ Ha ! fa cud guess that ? Like aneuch somebody t 1 inm naething aboot — fowk ’t ’s cheengin the feck t they hae at ilka term.” ...... ^ ti/t “ Weel,” said the gudge deliberately, it ’s jist Tam Meeri- son ?” ... The light of Johnny Gibb’s old iron lamp, with its one rush wick, was not brilliant at best ; and it had been getting worse in consequence of the protracted sederunt in which the gudge had indulged. Therefore, though I rather think Jinse did start slightly, and colour a little at the intimation just made by the gudge, I don’t think the gudge observed it ; and, truth to say, the gudge himself was a very little agitated. “ Gae ’wa’ to yer bed, than, this minute,” said Jinse ; “ see, ye’ve keepit me sittin’ wytein ye till the vera nethmost shall o’ the lamp ’s dry.” And the gudge went to his bed accordingly. CHAPTEE XV. SANDY PETERKIN’S SCHOOL. f HE occasion of a ^^muckle scholar '' coming to the Smiddyward school was an event of some importance. And, therefore, when the embryo mole-catcher presented himself on a Monday morning to meet the scrutiny of the thirty odd urchins under Sandy Peterkin’s charge, there was a good deal of commotion and whispering. He wore a pair of moleskin leggings, which extended up to the very thigh tops, and were there suspended by a little tag of the same cloth to the side button of his trousers. When he took off his bonnet his head was seen to be ‘‘huddry;^^ that is, notice- ably huddry for such a civilised place as the inside of a school. He had been to Andrew Langchafts’ shop at the Kirktown, and had there furnished himself with a sclate” and skallie,’^ a pennyworth of lang sheet paper, unruled, and two quills for pens. These, with an old copy of ‘‘ the Gray,^^ were the furnishings for the ensuing scholastic campaign that was to fit him for entering on the practical study of mole-catching. “ Weel,” said the new scholar, laying down his equipments on the side of the maistePs ” desk, ‘^aw’m jist g^n to be the raith ; an’ aw wud like to win as far throu”s aw cud.” “ Coontin, ye mean ?” Oh ay ; in fack a body canna weel hae owre muckle o’ it at ony rate.” “Fat progress hae ye made in arithmetic.^” asked Sandy Peterkin. The gudge scratched his head for a little ; and then, wetting his thumb, proceeded to turn over the dog-eared leaves of his “Gray.” “Fack I dinna jist min’ richt. It’s half-a-dizzen o’ year sin’ I was at the s kwee l. That was wi’ Maister Tawse ; an’ I daursay your wye winna be the same ’s his wi’ the coontin, mair nor ither things ; so it winna maitter muckle.” ^ “Ye’ve been through the simple rules at ony rate,” sug- gested Sandy. SANDY PETERKINS SCHOOL. 89 “ Hoot ay; aw s^r aw was that. Nyod, I think it was here-aboot,” and the aspirant mole-catcher pointed to the place on the book. ‘^Compound Division said the ‘^maister,” looking at the page. Ay,” said the scholar, with a sort of chuckle ; but aw 'm nae sayin’ ^t aw cud work it noo— aw wud better begin nearer the beginnin\” Weel — maybe Reduction.” ‘^That wud de fine. It^s an ill-to-work rowle, an’ I never oon’e rsteed it richt wi’ Maister Tawse. Aw won’er gin aw cud win as far throu’s wud mak’ oot to mizzour aff an awcre or twa o’ grun, or cast up the wecht o’ a hay s^ ?” ‘‘ That ’ll depeni’ o’ your ^ diligence,” said Sandy Peter- kin, with a smile. “ Weel, I ance was n^pours wi’ a chap ’t cud ’a deen that, as exact’s ye like ; an’ he not nae leerns till’t, nedderin, but jist a mason’s tape line ’t he hed i’ the locker o’ ’s kist.” It’s quite possible to d^ that wi’ a marked line,” an- swered the dominie. It ’s richt ^sefu’ the like o’ that,” said the gudge ; an’ fan a body’s gyaun aboot like, they wud aye be ^ttin’ ’t adee noo an’ than, and cudna hardly foryet the wye. Noo, Maister Tawse wud never lat ’s try naething o’ that kin’, ’cep we hed first gane throu’ a great heap o’ muckle rowles ; an’ that disna dee wi’ the like o’ 1^ ’t hisna lang time at a sk^el.” “An’ fat ither lessons wud you like to tak’.?” asked the maister. “Ye ken best ; only it was for the coontin ’t I cam’ ; an’ leernin to mak’ oot accoonts maybe.” “We hae a grammar class noo — wud you try it ?” ^ “ Na, na ; aw winna fash wi’ ’t,” said the gudge, with a de* cisive shake of the head. “It’s nae for common fowk ava that gremmar.” “ Maybe geography than. I ’ve a gweed chart on the wa’ here’t ye cud get a skance o’ the principal countries upon vera shortly.” “Weel, but is’t o’ ony eese to the like o’ me, that geo- graphy ? I wunna lickly be gyaun to forrin pairts.” If there was one branch more than another on which Sandy Peterkin set a high value, and on which, as a travelled man, he loved to descant, it was geography. So he pressed its importance, and a dubious consent was given to trying an hour at it once a-week, it being understood that the future O 90 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. mole-catcher would not be subject to the catechis '' lesson on Saturdays. Then, as he had a suspicion that his new pupil was not too well up in his general literature, Sandy suggested the propriety of his taking a reading lesson. Na ; aw hardly think 't I ’ll fash wi' that edder/^ was the reply. '' I was never that deen ill at the readin', an' I was i' the muckle Bible class afore aw l^ft the skw^l.” But ye maybe hinna read muckle sinsyne ! an' ye wud get a lot o' usefu' information i' the Collection lesson." But the like o' me 's nae needin' to read like the minais- ter," said the muckle scholar, with a laugh, an' it wud gar 's l^ss a hantle o' time fae the coontin. An 'oor at that, an’ syne the yr^tin— the day wud be deen in a han'-clap, afore a body cu3~get oot mair nor a question or twa." However, Sandy succeeded in persuading him to take the Collection " lesson. When the lesson came, he did not like to bid him stand up among a dozen urchins so much smaller than himself. The muckle scholar sat with his sturdy legs crowded in below the incommodious desk. He floundered through his turn at reading in a style at which his junior class-fellows did not always conceal their mirth. But he was too self-centered to be particularly thin-skinned, and Sandy Peterkin was indulgent, even to the extent of taking care that the graceless young rapscallions should spell every hard word in the muckle scholar’s hearing, while Sandy spared him such trials ; albeit he improved the time when the gudge's turn came by a short homily on the importance of attention to^ correct spelling. Then would our mature class-fellow seize his sclate," and gravely set on to the piecemeal solu- tion of the Gray," from which occupation it was found that none of the ordinary devices would distract him. And at writing time, when the dominie sat in his desk, knife in hand, with a cheva 2 ix de /rise of quill feathers, held in idle or mis- . chief-loving hands, surrounding his nose as he diligently mended, or new-made, pens for a score of writers, the muckle scholar spread himself to his task, and grimly performed his writing exercise. He would also at times stay after the school was dismissed, and get the benefit of Sandy Peterkin's private instructions for an hour or so. In short, there could be no doubt that the gudge would pass into the world again accomplished beyond many of his contemporaries ; and thereafter he could hardly fail of attain- ing something of distinction in his destined walk, and with that distinction the attendant emoluments. SANDY PETERKIN^S SCHOOL. 91 As Johnny Gibb's late servant moved about Smiddyward (he had got boarded and lodged, for the time, with Widow Will), he could not help reflecting on these things ; and it occurred to him that in his own person he presented a very eligible matrimonial bargain for any well-disposed young woman. And why should he not look over occasionally to Gushetneuk, to keep up his friendly relations with Johnny and Mrs. Gibb, and let Jinse Deans know how expansive a place the world was to men of enterprise. I rather think that Jinse still needed a little contrivance now and then to prevent undesirable rencontres between certain of her sweet- hearts. And this was the real explanation which the gudge, who was a simple soul, and still loved to indulge in late sittings, ought to have got to account for the peremptoriness with which he had been once or twice ordered to his home. But Jinse condescended to no explanations on what seemed her capricious treatment of the lad. And, of course, Jinse could not help what might emerge beyond the range of her influence. So it happened that, on a certain evening when the gudge had got himself comfortably fixed up " on the smiddy hearth, and was talking away full swing in a half-oracular sort of style to several other lads, his old rival, Tam Meerison, came in with a long stack of plough irons on his shoulder to be sharpened. Tam first threw off his burden with a heavy clank ; then after saluting the smith, lifted it into the glowing light of the fire at the edge of the hearth, and, with a ham- mer he had laid hold of, proceeded to knock the piled coul- ters and socks out of connection with each other. He next glanced across the hearth, and without addressing any body very directly, exclaimed— '"Wa' oot o' that; ye've been birslin yer shins lang aneuch there." The gudge's lessons probably required his attention about that particular period of the evening. At any rate he soon found that his time would not permit further loitering in the smiddy just then. Tam took the vacated place on the hearth, and lighted his pipe with pery appearance of satisfaction. He had just done so when the smith, who was not unaware apparently of the relations between the two, wickedly endeavoured to blow the flame of jealousy, by waggishly informing Tam of the hopeful prospects of his rival. Tak moles !" quoth Tam, whose manner had evidently progressed of late in the direction of brusqueness. I wud as seen ca' stinkin' fish wi' a horse worth auchteenpence." 92 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. Hoot, min, but he gyaun to get Jinse Deans for ’s wife fanever his apprenticeship ^s throu’,” said the smith. ^^Hah, hah, ha-a-a,” roared Tam, with a loud laugh. It's been to help 'im wi' that that he heeld in wi' Johnny Gibb sae lang.” I wudna won'er," said the smith. But she 's a muckle thocht o' 'oman, Jinse. They speak o' lads cornin' back to the place, ^ter they've gane hyne awa', jist for her sake— that 's a greater ferlie, s^ly. Fat wud ye say to that ‘^Fat ! That they're great geese. Na, na, smith, ‘The back o' ane 's the face o' twa ;' that 's the style for me. Hah, hah, ha!" “ An' ye hinna been at Gushetneuk than, sin' ye cam' back to the quarter ? " “ Nane o' yer jaw, min. Min' yer wark there, an' gi'e that sgck a gnppie o' yird. Glinkies likes his stibbles weel riven up ; an' the set 't Tie” hed hed wi' 'im afore the term 's been makin' bonny wark till 'im i' the back-fanlds." “ Oil, I thocht young Peter an' him atween them wud a' manag't to keep them richt — nae to speak o' yer aM' freen the mistress." “I wuss ye hed jist seen the place than. Nae the vera pattle shafts but wus broken, an' the harness grey an' green for wjmt o' cleanin'. I b'lieve the wife was at them aboot that an' got jist a richt nizzin for ance i' the wye o' ill jaw." “Ye wudna dee the like o' that, Tam ?" “ Sang, she 'll better nae try 't though. But a body 's mad to see the wye 't they hed been guidin' the beasts. Yon 's a snippit horsie 't was i' the secont pair — yon young beastie — jist clean spoil't. He was some skittish at ony rate, an' the chap hed laid upon 'im an' twistet 'im wi' the ryne till he 's a' spoil't i' the mou' completely ; an' I 'm seer he hed latt'n 'im oot amon' 's ban's i' the theets, for ye cudna lipp^ till 'im as lang's ye wud turn yer fit. Glinkies gar't me tak' 'im an' pj^ 'im on to the muckle broon horse, to try an' steady 'im. But I can tell ye it 's nae gryte job haein' to dee wi' ither fowk's botch't wark." “Deed no, Tam; but I've nae doot ye'll dee yer best wi' 't. I' the meanwhile ye mith gi'e me a chap to tak' doon the point o' the coulter a bit." Tam put his pipe in his waistcoat pocket, and started to the fore-hammer with the greatest promptitude. CHAPTEE XVI. A START IN LIFE. t N a certain afternoon, about a week before the Whitsun- day term of 1842, Johnny Gibb, who had been busy afield, came toddling home when the afternoon was wearing on, and went into the mid house,” to look out sundry blue- checked cotton bags with turnip seed, for he meditated sow- ing of that valued root. He was hot and tired, and his spouse invited him to rest for a little on the deece. Would he take a drink of ale ? ‘‘ Ay will aw, 'oman,” said Johnny, "an’ ye hae’t at han’. Lat ’s see the caup there.” Mrs. Gibb obeyed the command, and Johnny drank of the ^ reaming liquor with evident satisfaction. " Rest ye a minit than, an’ drink oot the drap ; for ye ’ve ^ never dejvall’t the haill day,” said Mrs. Gibb ; and saying so, she "lean’t her doon,” with some intention apparently of entering on a confab with her husband. " Are ye thinkin’ o’ gyaun doon to the market on Wednes- day ?” asked she, with that kind of air which seems directly to provoke an interrogatory answer ; and Johnny at once ex- claimed — " No ; foo are ye speerin that ? Ye ken ’t baith the boys p is bidin : I ’ve nae erran’.” "Ye never think o’ speirin aboot Jinse,” replied Mrs. Gibb, still in the key that suggested the necessity for an ex- planatory note. "Jinse Deans !” exclaimed Johnny. "Fat’s the eese o’ ^ speirin at her ? An’ she binna pleas’t wi’ ’er waages, she wud seerly ’a tell’t ye lang ere nob.” " I doot it’s nae the wa^es a’thegither, peer ’oman. But J inse ’s needin’ awa’ .” Mrs. Gibb had evidently made up her mind now to give some further explanation about this new movement, when, as Fate would have it, the colloquy was broken in upon by Jinse (who had been unaware of her master’s presence there) 94 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. herself at the moment stumbling into the kitchen, from which j she had been temporarily absent. j “ F at haiver ’s this ^t ye Ve ta'en i’ yer heid noo ?” demanded | Johnny, ^Addressing Jinse. '^Are ye gyaun clean gyte to speak o’ leavin’ yer place ; and it only an ouk fae the term \ t^ ? Faur wud ye gae till ^ Harne to my midier’s,” answered Jinse, exhibiting some- i__ what of discomposure at Johnny’s vehemence. ] Jinse’s mother lived not far off Benachie, in a very un- pretentious residence. ^^An’ fat on the face o’ the creation wud ye dee gyaun > hame? — Yer mither’s but a peer ’oman; she has little need o’ you wi”er,” said Johnny. Jinse, who was making, on the whole, an uneasy defence, averred that her mother wasna vera stoot.” _ ‘‘But is she wuntin you hame was Johnny’s demand. ■ “ Tell me that.” " • Here Jinse gave symptoms of breaking into tears, and Mrs. Gibb interposed with a “ Hoot, man ! ye ’re aye sae rajT^ wi’ fowk.” “ Weel, weel,” quoth Johnny, as he seized his bonnet and marched toward the door ; “ ye ’re a’ alike. ^ wud ken fat ye wud be at ! ” I don’t know that Johnny Gibb meant to include his wife. The reference was rather to the class to which Jinse belonged, J though, no doubt, he went away with the conviction that women-kind in general are absurdly impracticable in their ways. But be that as it may, Johnny found that he had to provide a new servant lass. ; In private audience Jinse Deans revealed to Mrs. Gibb, with many sighs and tears, that Tam Meerison had “ promis’t to mairry her.” What more I don’t know ; but the worthy goodwife, after scolding Jinse as severely as it was in her nature to do, told her to “ wash her face, an’ nae mair o’ that snifterin. An’ gae awa’ and get ready the so;wens. I ’se say naething mair aboot it till the term day’s by. Nae doot ye ’ll be i’ yer trjbbles seen aneuch wuntin that.” Poor Jinse, the prospect of marriage did not seem a cheer- ful one to her, notwithstanding the number of candidates . there had been for her hand. Of her reputed sweethearts Tam Meerison was the one for whom she had at any rate affected to care the least ; and since the time Tam had begun seriously to court her, his jealousy had been again and again roused by the undisguised preference given to others his rivals. A START IN LIFE. 95 And yet Tam Meerison was to have her to wife. It would be wrong to say that Tam had not a certain feeling of satisfac- tion in the thought of this ; for, notwithstanding his adoption latterly of a more seeming-reckless style, Tam had been from an early date severely smitten by Jinse^s charms. Indeed his satisfaction was presumably considerable, else he had pro- bably not formed the laudable resolution to marry. But then there were counter-balancing considerations. The idea of marriage as an actual event had been forced upon him with a kind of staggering suddenness, which caused the approach of the reality itself to awaken a rather uncomfortable feeling of responsibility. Tam began to see that it would be trouble- some to go about, and he had but a dim notion of the indis- pensable technicalities. Then there was the question of a house and home for his wife; and here Tam’s case no doubt merited commiseration. There was no house whatever avail- able within a circuit of several miles ; for the lairds in the locality, in the plenitude of their wisdom, and foreseeing the incidence of a poor law, had, as a rule, determined that there should be no possibility of paupers seeing the light on their properties. They would rather knock down every cottage on their estates. What could poor Tam do? Jinse said she would go to her mother’s. Where Jinse’s mother lived was three miles off; and with her mother Jinse could only get what share she might of a hovel that very barely afforded room for two beds in its dark and diminutive ‘^but” and ^^ben.” And there also an unmarried sister and two brothers, all in farm service, claimed to have the only home they possessed. It was not greatly to be wondered at if Tam felt perplexed, and began to consider marrying really a stiff business. It was under this feeling of perplexity that he succumbed once again to Clinkstyle’s offer of a renewed engagement, and in order to get one foot at least planted down without more trouble, agreed to ^^bide” with Peter Birse for another six months. Tam had ventured across to Gushetneuk at a suitable hour on the night of which we have been speaking, to talk over with his affianced what most nearly concerned him and her. The two sat on the deece again; and this time nobody disturbed them. Jinse was sobbing. Tam put his arm about her ; and there was genuine feeling in the poor chap’s words, I have not the least doubt, as he said in his tenderest tones, ‘‘ Dinna noo, Jinse — Ye’se never wunt a peck o’ meal nor a p^’ o’ butter as lang ’s I ’m able to work for ’t.” 96 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. By-and-by Jinse’s emotion moderated, and they got into a more business strain; and then Tam asked— Does Gushets ken yet?” " Eh, aw dinna ken richt, aw never got sic a gast ^s aw got the nicht i' the ^terneen, fan aw haumer^t into the kitchie upo’ the mistress an' him speakin' something or anither aboot me gyaun awa'.” ‘‘ But an' coorse she kent aboot it afore ?'' She jist kent the streen 't I wudna be here ^fter the term; I gyauna 'er muckle audiscence fan she speir't foo I was leavin'. But an' ye hed heard the maister he brak oot— I cudna 'a haud'n up my heid, Tam, nor been ongrutt'n. deenfat I hedliket!'' — An' did ye tell him onything mair, than ?'' Geyan lickly! Fa wud 'a deen that, noo? But I t ell't her aifter he was awa'— it was rael sair, Tam,” and Jinse threatened greetin ” again. Did she say ony ill upo ' me ?” asked Tam. ^^No; but though the maister was in a terrible ill teen jist, aboot 's gyaun awa' an' that, I was waur, gin waur cud w_un, fan she scjmlt's, an' gya's sae muckle gweed advice, tee.” ^ Ou weel, Jinse, we're nae waur nor ither fowk, nor yet sae ill 's plenty.” With this comforting reflection the conversation turnedj and Jinse asked — But fat are ye gyaun to dee a' simmer?” I 'm bidin' again.” ‘‘ Bidin' at Clinkstyle ?” "Ay.” " But it's a coorse place to bide in, isnin't ?” " Weel,” answered Tam, slowly, and not quite willing, in the circumstances, to make that admission, " the wife 's some roch an' near b'gyaun, but there's little tribble wi' the maister 'imsel.” " Didna ye hear o' nae ither place at the market ?” " But I wasna there. I bargain't the day afore, and didna seek to gyang. Ye see, I t^' the maister 't I wud tak' a day for't fan the neeps is^laid doon.” Tam evidently considered this a stroke of management, and Jinse, brightening up a little, asked — " An' fan wud it need to be ?” "Jist as seen's things can be sattl't. We maun be cried on twa Sundays, at ony rate.” A START IN LIFE. 97 ^‘Twa Sundays “ Ay, there 's nane but puckles o’ the gentry gets ’t deen in ae Sunday, aw b’lieve.” “ Weel, ye maun come up to my mither’s on Saturday’s nicht.” ‘^Ou ay, an’ we can speak aboot it better than. Your mither’ll ken a’ aboot the wye o”t, I ’se warran’. But I doot she ’ll be pitt’n aboot wi’ ’s bidin’ there. I wuss we cud ’a gotten a hoose ony wye.” Weel, we maun jist pit up wi’ things like ither fowk, I suppose.” But it ’ll mak’ sic a steer in her hoose, ye ken.” Oh, we ’ll manage fine for that maitter. There ’s her but bed, it ’s nae vera sair in order eenoo ; but I ’ve twa f edder pillows o’ my nain, an’ a patch’t coverin’, forbye a pair o’ blankets ’t the mistress helpit ’s to spin, an’ gya ’s the feck o’ the ’oo’. There ’ll be plenty o’ room for my kist i’ the but, an’ ye maun hae yer ain kist aside ye, ye ken.” But yer mither winna hae gweed sparin’ ’er room con- stant, it’s nae’s gin’t war only a fyou weeks. She winna get nae ees e o’ ’t hersel’.” “ Ou, but ye ken there ’s nane o’ oor fowk comes hame eenoo, ’cep Rob, an’ Nelly at an antrin time; Jamie’s owre far awa’. An’ ony nicht ’t Rob’s there, gin ye chanc’t to be the same nicht, you twa cud sleep thegither, seerly; an’ 1 cud sleep wi’ my mither, an Nelly t^, for that maitter.” Foo af’en does Rob come ‘‘ Aboot ance i’ the fortnicht or three weeks.” “ I think I ’ll win near as af’en ’s that mysel’,” said Tam, upon whose mind the general effect of this conversation had been rather exhilarating than otherwise. His sweetheart had not merely contrivance ; she had also foresight and thrift, evidently, as the general inventory given of her providin’ ” testified. Still he hankered after a house that he could call his own. It was not that Tam’s ambition on this point was extravagant. If he could get one end of a ‘‘but an’ a ben” cottage, about such a place as Smiddyward, with a “ cannas- breid ” of a garden, and the chance of going to see his wife once a-week, he would have been well content. But this Tam found to be impracticable. He made full inquiry ; and even invoked the aid of his acquaintance the smith, whose banter was turned into hearty sympathy with the statement of the case now laid before him. The smith tackled Dawvid Hadden, the ground-officer, and urged the 98 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. reparation of part of the old erections of which Sandy Peter kin^s school formed the main wing, as a dwelling for Tam. As the manner of sycophants dressed in a little dele- gated authority is, Dawvid^s answer was a kind of echo of what he imagined Sir Simon would have said, ‘'Na na smith, it 's a very fallawshus prenciple in fat they ca' pol^Ucai ecomony to encourage the doonsittin' o^ the like o’ them in a place.— Ou, it’s nae the expense. Na, na, the biggm o’ a score o’ hooses wud be a mere triffle, gin Sir Simon thocht it richt in prenciple— a mere triffle. But there they sit doon an’ fesh up f^ilies till they wud thraten to full a destrick wi’ peer fowk— the brod cud never keep the tae half o’ them. No; I’m weel seer they ’ll get nae hoose i’ the pairis’ o’ Pyke- tillim.” ^ It was not a kindly speech that of Dawvid Hadden ; albeit It expressed, firstly, the newest view of political economy in the locality, which was just then beginning to be practically carried out ; and, secondly, an accurate statement of Tam Meerison’s chances of getting a house within the parish. In this particular, Tam had his strong wish and reasonable desire completely defeated. It may be difficult for the man who lives in a comfortable home with his family about him to estimate with precision either the keenness of feeling, or the deteriorating effects involved in such disappointment. I don’t think it should be difficult for any man to make up his mind as to giving a hearty condemnation to the too common land policy which has entailed the like cruel hardship upon hundreds of honest hard-working men in the class to which Tam belonged. But my business is not to moralise, I daresay ; and I have only to add to this chapter that, as better could not be, Tam Meerison and Jinse Deans had no help for it but get married, and commence their career of wedded bliss under the slenderly equipped conditions already indicated. CHAPTEE XY 11. SANDY PETERKIN IS WARNED. / ^^^^HETHER the unceremonious home-thrust adminis- tered to the Rev. Andrew Sleekaboot by Johnny Gibb had anything to do with the matter or not, I am not prepared to say, but so it was, that very speedily after that occurrence, the patron of the parish and lord of the manor ‘^had his attention directed to the current state of opinion, and recent on-goings at Smiddyward School. Sir Simon was one of those lofty individuals whose attention requires to de directed to this or that ; or they might for long overlook many common-place events transacting themselves before their view ; and in the present case, it was surmised, rightly or wrongly, that the Rev. Mr. Sleekaboot, in his own quiet way, had, on second thoughts, taken means to stir up the dignified baronet. Anyhow Sir Simon was stin-ed up ; and he made it known, through his ground officer, Dawvid Had- den, that the conventicle held in Sandy Peterkin’s school must forthwith “ cease and determine.^' It would not have been in accordance with Sandy Peter- kin’s antecedents had he exhibited as much worldly prudence and policy as to ^^jouk an’ lat the jaw” of Sir Sim.on’s wrath “ gae owre.” So, although the Rev. Alister Macrory was just about finishing a second spell of preaching in the school, and there was no immediate prospect of the place being further occupied in the same way, Sandy chose to return an abrupt and rebellious answer to Sir Simon’s orders to have the con- venticle stopped. Sandy, without consulting any one, replied that he was a citizen of a free country, and would give the use of the school to anybody he pleased. Yea, Saun’ers, man,” answered Dawvid Hadden. Ye ’ll better ca’ canny ; aw wuss that bit mou’fu’ dinna craw i’ yer crap or a’ be deen.” < & vvi oiv. Jonathan Tawse !— an' aul' sneeshinie, drucken slvDe"^y ► !”said Mrs. Birse, scornful!^ “ It's jist ^ Leernin or than no . o.u*u.uuy. i SIC mannie sic horsie atween the twa for that maitter." TVT ** •’ never spak a truer word,” answered Meg, bethinking herself. “ I ’m weel seer Maister Peterkin ’s bairns chairge o’ onybody’s “ He’s seen a great deal more of the wordle : and been in than Tawse,” interposed Miss Birse. “Weel, ’s aw wus^sayin’,” continued Meg Raffan, “Mrs Hadden says to me at the time, says she, ‘Dawvid was up b cairts the streen, wusnin he.?’ ‘But fan was Dawvid onv- thing else wi his tale ?’ says I. ‘Gin we war to believe a”t we hear, there ’s some fowk would never mak’ nor mell wi’ nae- thmg less nor gentry.’ I wudna lat ’er afif wi’ ocht nor flee ’t aw cud help ; for they’re that upsettin’, baith o’ them. ‘ Ay but, says she, ^ that was nane o' yer dog dirders an' ostlers fi^gedderin to get a bit boose, fan they gat their maister oot o the road. This was lattin at me, ye ken, for inveetin the coachman an the gamekeeper up bye, aifter Sir Simon gaed awa ; aw m seer decenter or mair neebourly fowk ye wudna get 1 the seyven pairis’es. But, aw b’lieve, I hed ’er there no. Keep rne, Kirsty,’ says I, ‘ ye dinna mean to say ’t Dawvid actually was fou at this braw pairty than ? There wus fowk ’t ye ken weel i’ the Lodge this \^a nicht, ’t wud ’a threepit owre me that they saw Dawvid stoiterin as he gaed name the streen. But I wud not latt’n them say’t’ Gin that stififin oot o’ Kirsty’s cockernony, I ’se lea’e ’t.” y®. chappit ’er in aboot the richt gate!” said Mrs. Birse. Settin' up their noses that wye, they wud need it — vulgar pack." i rw, she pj^ 'er apron till 'er een, an' shak's er heid. Oh, Meggy,' says she, 'aw kent ye was aye my true freen • dinna mention 't to nae leevin. But Dawvid, though he was MEG RAFFAN, THE HENWIFE. II7 weel to live, was richt gweed company, an^ wus not nabal wi’ me the streen/ ‘ It hed been a humoursome pairty, than, as weel ^s a braw ane ?’ says I. ‘ Weel, an’ it was a’ that,’ says she ; ^ an’ Dawvid was that newsie aifter he cam’ hame ’t I thocht never to get ’im till ’s bed.’ An’ foo that she sud say that Mains o’ Yawal was there, an’ Teuchitsmyre, an’ severals 0’ the muckle f airm ^rs.” An’ that was Dawvid’s brawfowk — I wuss ’im luck o’ sic mainnerly company — Han’ up the kyaak basket wi’ the short- breid, Eliza,” said Mrs. Birse. ‘^They’re stupid and ignorant people,” observed Miss Birse; ‘‘and if Jonathan Tawse were accustomed to good company, he wudna ask them till ’s hoose.” “ Na — nae mair, aw thank ye,” quoth Meg. “ I ’ve deen byous weel. I ’ll jist drink oot my drap at leasure. The third cup sudna be the warst, ye ken ; an’ awat ye ’ve gi’en ’s ’t richt gweed.” Meg Raffan paused ; and, with the facts as they actually were, Mrs. Birse was too shrewd a woman not to comprehend the significance of the last remark. “ Noo, Mrs. Birse, ye wull not pit fusky in amo’ my tae ; na — nae the fu’ o’ that gryte muckle gless ; ye wull mak’ me licht-heidit gin ever a body was ’t.” It was evidently worth doing, however ; and, truth to say, Meg Raffan offered no very strenuous resistance to the empty- ing of the glass into her cup. Neither did the emptying of the cup itself seem to produce very much of the effect she had dreaded. Meg only got more talkative, and went on to describe fully how she had “pumped” out of Mrs. Dawvid Hadden all that had been transacted at Jonathan Tawse’s party concern- ing which Dawvid had been so mightily uplifted. It appeared that in addition to Pyketillim people, there had been present Jonathan’s friend, the younger Dr. Drogemweal, who had settled “ doon throu’,” so as to be beyond the limits of his fa ther’s “sticks;” and that Dawvid had enumerated to the company the entire list of those who had been present at the Smiddyward meeting, the result thus far being a sort of critical analysis of each individual’s character and position. Johnny Gibb, the smith, and the souter, had been classed together as hopeless incorrigibles, compounded in pretty nearly equal parts of the fanatic and the radical ; and it was deemed pru- dent to say little more about them. Sandy Peterkin was de- nounced very severely ; and it seemed that Dawvid, in his elevation, had freely avowed his intention, and even boasted iiS JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. V possessed, to “ sort him, at ony rate.” And not less was Dawvid incensed at that “ fair-tongue’t howffin confes^sed hf^had h ^ ground-officer all but crnSaJerhome. " “ Noo, Mrs. Birse, aw wudna tell’t to my nain sister for me, and Meg looked inquinngly toward Miss Birse next toward her mother, as^muchVs to s^y, « Would rlo^ be wise to remove her at any rate ?” ^ c A taucht breedin’ owre weel to cairry dynes ” said Mrs. Birse, a little haughtily. ^ ’ onything o’ the kin’, Mrs. Birse. She wudna be your dother to dee onything like that iishS‘'‘"r’'L^"r ff nfni;=i 1 P> ^ ^ naethmg to say aboot the goodwife ^ Kirsty,in a careless-like mainner. Weel, Meggy, says she, speakin’ aneth ^er breath an^ she prt my vera flesh creep fan she pat up 'er han’ like a dis- u ^ I can lippen onything to you ^ savs ^e, but Dawvid wud fell me gin he thocht ’t I war to apen my lips aboot It to my nain mither— Maister Tawse sudLy to Dawvid, Weel, Davie, fat are ye to dee wi’ that randy o’ a wife o Clmkstyle.?”’— noo, Mrs. Birse it’s a Gweed’s trowth t aw m tellin’ ye. Eh, he’s a haiveless man- nae Tae^'skweeD’ “^leeg’t to tak’ yer innocent bairns ’awa’ “ Mamma,” exclaimed Miss Birse, in great excitement “I wud gar papa prosecute him.” cxcuement, 1 Betty’s nae mislippenin’ ’er jots i’ e kitchie, said Mrs. Birse, addressing her daughter with unwonted peremptoriness. Miss Birse, lith very fvident re- luctance, ob^ed, so far, at any rate, as to leave the parlour; /W r I contimed, “I’m nae su’pris’t at onything ’t fira(-o regaird for the edi- fication an richt upfeshm o’ their affspring, as Mr. Macrory taul s weel-a-wat; an’ I cudna lat the lassie sit an’ hear ’er nam pawrents wilipen’it wi’ the like o’ ’im. Weel ?” Oh, says Dawvid, ‘aw’m thinkin’ nedder you nor Mr. T ’«A 1 ^ bawbee by tiggin wi’ her. So A smairhAt Ih 'I h that— impjdent matchet that he is. An Maister Tawse sud ’a said some MEG RAFFAN, THE HENWIFE. II9 rael roch words, rebattin on ’im like. Eh, but aw cudna come owre them, Mrs. Birse, on nae accoont.” Far be 't fae me to hear their coorse langige,” said Mrs. Birse, but it ^s richt that fowk sud ken fat kin' o' characters they are.” Deed, awat that 's richt true ; for as sair 's it is to men- tion 't. ‘ Weel,' says they, ‘ an' fat comes o' a' your blawin aboot fat ye cud dee 't nae ither man cud dee ?' ‘ Oh,' says Dawvid, ^ Peter 'imsel"s a saft breet ; he made oot to win free o' the meetin' by feingyin a drow. Jist bide ye still, fan the neist meetin' comes, gin I dinna mak' oot to fesh back 's drow till 'im as ill 's ever.' An' wi' that they hed haud'n the sad- dest hyse 't cud be. Tawse an' this young doctor — he was aye a weirdless blackguard — i' the lang rin o' 't, made o' Dawvid, an' swall't the creatur's heid, till he was as prood 's oor auf turkey cock, an' blawin at the rate o' nae allooance aboot fat he cud and sud dee. An' I 'm seer, fae fat I gat oot o' Kirsty, that they hed eiket 'im up till as muckle mischief aboot this kirk wark 's they cud.” I dinna doot that neen,” said Mrs. Birse, with an air of grave self-satisfaction. An' fat ither cud we expeck fae sic a weirdless mengyie makin' a t^l o' an oonprencipl't drucken creatur ?” Eh, he's a coorse ill-gate't ablach,” continued Meg. Hooever, that's the rinnin's o' the haill affair; an' aw'm seer I cudna hed a licht conscience to keep it oot o' yer sicht, though I was jist richt sair owrecome ere I cud mak' up my min' aboot tellin' ye 't.” Here Meg Raffan exhibited outward tokens of “owre- comeness,” for which, happily, Mrs. Birse, knew the practical remedy and applied it. And on the whole she concluded that her trouble as the entertainer had been tolerably well re- paid by the henwife's visit. The glimpse of Jonathan Tawse's party, and the sort of estimate she had been enabled to form of Dawvid Hadden's position in relation to matters polemical had put her in possession of information which she did not doubt of being able to use with good effect afterwards CHAPTEE XX. MRS. BIRSE AND HER OWN. .t^T was a fact incapable, I fear, of being successfully dis- nt that Peter Birse, senior, had never profited as he ought by the exhortations of his wife, ably seconded of late years by her accomplished daughter. Miss Eliza Birse in sped to the necessity of cultivating the virtue of eentilitv • an ing home from Lowrin Fair slightly damaged in person, anc considerably soured in spirit ; and not less so in the course she adopted with a view to setting the young man up again, and inducing him to go on in the path chalked out for him by maternal wisdom and solicitude. In the first place, with a view to stimulate in Peter that sentiment of grateful con- fidence which was likely to lead to a full disclosure of the troubles that had been weighing on his spirit, she resolved to surprise him with a very handsome present. About that date, plush waistcoats were an object of strong desire with many young men of Peter’s years and tastes : plush waist- coats, double-breasted, and with many pearl buttons on them. Such a waistcoat of blue plush was a garment of high attrac- tions, but one of red plush fairly outdid it, and put its owner in a position of singular distinction. There was just a little doubt in Mrs. Birse’s mind whether a plush vest was to be reckoned genteel. Miss Birse had pronounced it vulgar; but then it was well enough understood that the heart of Peter Birse, junior, was set upon having that very article of clothing, and it was not to be expected that Peter should change his mind for anything his sister might say ; indeed, the contrary effect was certain to be produced. Therefore, to gratify his wish now was very much in the nature of making a virtue of necessity — not to speak of the object to be directly attained in so doing. Mrs. Birse went to the Kirktown, and ascertained through Jock Will, now promoted to the dignity of apprentice to Andrew Langchafts, that the merchan’ had on his shelves a piece of red plush, which he might be con- cussed into selling on very reasonable terms, inasmuch as it had proved hitherto to be dead stock, being an article quite beyond the mark of the ordinary beaux of Pyketillim. 126 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUR. '' The merchant's nae in, is he, laddie?” asked Mrs. Birse, turning over the pieces of plush on the counter. " No, nae eenop,” was Jock's reply. " But ye say the reid bit 's never been price't ?” " I heard 'im sayin' that.” “Weel, aw dinna won'er at it— lyin' tooshtin aboot there till it 's fooshtit and half ate'n wi' the mpchs. Cut ye aff a yaird an' a finger-length than, an' gi'e me a dizzen o' pearl buttons, an' we '11 sattle aboot the price wi' 'imsel'. Na, Jock, but ye are a braw man noo,'' continued Mrs. Birse, as Jock went on to fulfil her orders in a business-like style. " Nae less nor cairryin a shears i' yer waistcoat pouch already ; aw wudna won'er to see ye wi' a chop o' yer nain yet.” Jock laughed his own quiet laugh, and went on with his work. The announcement of the red plush vest had a highly salutary effect upon Peter Birse, junior. He now relaxed with a suddenness that made the muscles of his face feel the thaw almost uncomfortably; he would have desired that the severity of his countenance should have disappeared more gradually, but the sight of the red plush was too much for him— his mother had taken care to bring the unmade piece home with the pearl buttons to display them before his eyes. It was in the parlour, and they two were alone by them- selves. '‘Noo, Patie, man,” said Mrs. Birse, with affecting em- phasis ; " fa '11 dee as muckle for ye as yer nain mither ? Gin her heid war caul i' the mools, aw doot there 's fyou wud luik aifter ye as she wud dee.” Mrs. Birse endeavoured to look pathetic. Peter certainly did look sheepish for some minutes — and, in so far as he was able to distract his eye and his consciousness from the piece of red plush, he let his thoughts dwell next on what his mother had said, as he blurted out— "Hoot, fat's the e^e o' speakin' that gate— I 'm sure I 'm nae afen on an ill t^n.” And then Peter became confidential, and informed his mother how failing to find his attentions duly reciprocated by Mary Howie, he had gone to Lowrin Fair in a somewhat desperate rnood ; how, at an advanced period of the fair, the determina- tion had seized him to exhibit his gallantry independently, by walking home with a servant girl who was a mere casual acquaintance ; so Peter said, the truth being that the girl was a former servant of Mrs. Birse's own ; and how as she hap- pened to have another beau, certain little unpleasantnesses / PATIE'S PLUSH WAISTCOAT. 127 had occurred, and Peter in addition to the slight amount ot damage he had sustained, writhed greatly under the idea that he had been laughed at, a sort of ordeal he greatly disliked. ^‘Ay weel, weel, Patie, man: — that^s jist a bit lesson to ye,” said Mrs. Birse, who had now dismissed her charnel- house tone. “ Them ^t sets to coortin the lasses maun tem- per their nose to the east win’ as weel ’s the south.” “ I wasna wuntin /ler /” quoth Peter, bluntly. U “Na, I’m richt weel seer’t wud never luik owre yer ^ shooder at nae servan’ quine. But, my laddie, min’ ye ’re nae to be bauch and chuckeri-heartit though Mary Howie sud gi’e u her heid a bit cast files at the first. That ’s nae mark ; she may be rael prood to be name’t to ye. An’ min’ ye that MaVy’s grown a strappin, weel-faur’t lass : an’ though she hisna the menners nor edication o’ yer sister—” ‘‘Hah! I dinna care a tinkler’s curse for menners,” ex- claimed Peter, candidly, “gin aw cud get ’er.” “An’ she’s a richt servan’,” continued his mamma, not heeding the interruption ; “ an’ fan the aul’ fowk wears awa’ ye wud be seer to get the muckle feck o’ fat they hae gin ye play’d yer c^_ts the richt gate — for Gushets has nae near L/' o’ ’s naiiL An’ ye mith aiven, in coorse o’ naitur, come in to Gushetneuk it'sel’, tee. It ’s a likeable spot, an’ richt weel in heart kin’ly grun’ie.” “ But fat wud aw dee wi’ Gushetneuk ? Aw thocht I was to get oor ain toon ; amjim aw ?” -f “ Seerly ; but hear me oot. Ye cud manage baith pairts brawly. Though fowk grows aul’ in coorse o’ time, your fader an’ me maun hae some gate to bide. An’ wi’ Robbie intil anither place, an’ Benjie at ’s b uznes s, we cud live there fine; awat it’s a richt gweed hoose, gin it hed but a back chimley bjgget ; only there ’s little eese o’ that as lang’s the like o’ Mr. an’ Mrs. Gibb has’t. Your fader cud trock ^ aboot at ’s leasure on a pla^ like Gushetneuk — he wud be aye worth ’s breid — an’ lat you tak’ chairge an’ mak’ market for baith places.” “Weel, that wud dee fine,” said Peter Birse, junior, brightening up at the brilliant prospect thus opened up to him. His countenance fell, however, as he added, “ But I dinna ken gin she cares for’s ava.” “ Care for ye ? Fat wud pit that styte i’ yer heid ?” ^ “ Weel, at ony rate, ye ken, I bocht sweeties at St. Saar’s Fair, an’ fuish till ’er” — “ Weel, an’ didna she tak’ them ?” 128 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. “Ou ay, but Tm maist surest she hed taulMock Wull nkht” “P®’ S^erday>s “ Lat them lauch that wins, Peter, man. Jock Wull wud need it. Fat s he -the sin o’ a peer nace nvauk it besrsar creator, t hisna passin’ a gweed barrow load o’ wardle’s gear to bless ’ersel’ wi’ ! Set hhnseV up wi’ the like o’ you, though ye warna my son ! The impidence o’ creators is a perfect scunner. But never ye min’ Jock Wull ; an’ he gae far that road they 11 seen get their sairin o’ him, an”s mither tee • an’ little maitter, weel-a-wat.— Gin I had bit kent that afore I gaed to the chop, no !” added Mrs. Birse, in a subdued key. “But he gaes hame wi’ ’er mony a time ; an’ fan I try’t to get her to come hame wi’ me fae the Ward at Yeel, she made fun o s a file an’ syne, aifter aw thocht she wu^ee’t gaed aff wi’ auF marriet fowk.” ^ ^ '^'Fant hert never wan fair dame,' Peter," said Mrs Birse, with a half scornful laugh. That 's been the gate wi' mair nor Mary Howie, as yer nain fader cud tell an' he war willin'. Mony was the ‘put an' row' wi' him ere he gat muckle audiscence, I can tell ye. But though he wusna the young man o' a braw fairm than, he made it oot at the lang length, by dent o' patience an' perseverance." “ Weel, but gin she like Jock Wull better," argued Peter upon whom the “green-eyed monster" was operating so sen- sibly that the image of his, as he believed, more successful rival, would not leave his mind. “ Gae 'aw' wi' ye !" exclaimed his mother, with some im- patience. Fear't at Jock Wull, an apprentice loon in a bit orra choppie, an' you as weel plenish't a fairmer's sin as there IS 1 the pains'.— For shame to ye, Peter, man, 't ye hae so little spunk." “ Cudna ye fesh 't aboot nae wye to Mrs. Gibb than asked the gallant youth. Mrs. Birse, after a moment's reflection, assented to this suggestion, and agreed to do her best with both Johnny and Mrs. Gibb, to pave the way more directlv for Peter's matri- monial campaign. Meanwhile, she further exhorted Peter to pursue the same resolutely on his own account. CHAPTEE XXII. MAINLY POLEMICAL. * 0 Johnny Gibb, the summer of 1842 was a season of un- usual mental activity. The great Kirk controversy was ! waxing hotter and hotter, and a crisis, in some shape, seemed certain at no distant date. The spring of that year had seen the settlement of a minister in a Strathbogie parish, in anti- cipation of which it had been deemed prudent, after what had ! occurred at Culsalmond, actually to have a company of sol- ^ diers conveyed from Aberdeen to the neighbourhood. The settlement took place quietly enough, but the fact that the moderatism of the Church had indicated its temper in this I militant fashion could not fail to arouse still more deeply the belligerent element in a nature like that of Johnny Gibb. He declared that things could not stop short of a rebellion, which would put that of the ‘‘Forty-five” in the shade. Then, at the General Assembly, the deposed ministers of Strathbogie both presented commissions for those of their own number whom they chose to send up, and also offered at the bar of that right reverend house a Court of Session inter- dict against those of the minority of their brethren from the Presbytery, who had been elected commissioners, and who, according to the Assembly’s own previous decision, were the only true representatives of the Presbytery. When the news of this had travelled north to Gushetneuk, through the me- dium, in the latter part of its journey, of a steady-going Aberdeen newspaper, which Johnny Gibb, notwithstanding that its opinions differed toto cceIo from his own, continued to peruse with regularity, Johnny hastened down in the gloamin to Smiddyward to relieve his overwrought mind by some conversation with the souter and the smith. “ I tell ye fat it is,” said Johnny, “they winna halt till the earth open an’ swallow up a batch o’ them like Korah, Dathan, an’ Abiram.” “ Nae doot we’re cornin’ upo’ times o’ trial/’ answered the !! ■ii ! II JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. t^the nie sair gin a’ this heemlin creengin i to the Coort o Session binna jist the wve o’ olantin' a ray yet” heids some r punishment winna owretak’ the Moderates in a han’-clap, as it cam’ upo’ Korah an’ ’s compa^^ the smith. “ But hae the Stra’bogie Moderates achiaUy been - their seats i the Assembly, you that’s seen the V: alloo’t to tak papers ?” “ Na man : I hinna wull o’ ’t. Ill that we are we ’re nae come to that yet, said Johnny. “ But nae fyour nor eightv- five votit for them, an’ twa hunner an’ fifteL against^ an’ Maister Dewar, Maister Leith an’ by a hunner an seventy-three votes to seventy-sax ” Itiik at oor parliamenters, the heid deesters T^fc: r prenciples in kirk matters. Graham s nae sair to ride the water on wi’ that nor nae ““'"“‘‘■'“'O' •cJHin.« mizzours,” said the souter. It 11 dee mair ill nor gweed i’ the lang rin. Ye canna serve God an mammon, aiven wi’ a ^ oot o’ Parliament But ye’re comm’ unco near’t there,“G'ushets. The fattal ihine“l there^s a pmp o’ Moderates to conten’ against : kt like^i^'a^ th^‘" an’ they wud be scatter’t ,’ b^'uua ye see that they ’re playin’ nto the han s o a set o men that hae poo’er o’ their side, an’ iilfie o’ the fear o’ Gweed afore their een ?” « I , 9°^™ment, ye mean ?” said the smith. « a">. ® Session,” added Johnny. ^ Ay, continued the souter, “an’ the pawtrons.” r^t a^ crapT’ “ the thing ’s rotten, nr. o ^ud the souter took which containing a report of the General Assembly, which he had carefully conned. « Here’s the debate on paw- 1 ^“^“‘^gbam moved that the Assembly refolve with mnclh^- patronage is a grievance, has been attended Tn? wL ”^“•'^.1° '■ebgion in the Church fhTrr^^i?^’ mam cause of the difficulties in which me Lnurch is at present involved, and that it ought to be MAINLY POLEMICAL. 131 abolished that was sec-ondit by ane Mr. Buchan Kelloe, an extensive lan’it proprietor T the Border coonty o’ Berwick- shire, Mr. Macrory taul’ me. Foo cud ony richt-thinkin’ man backspeak a motion like that noo ?” I daursay Gushets winna dee’t, but aw b’lieve him an Maister Sleekaboot raither differs aboot the benefits o’ paw- — tronage,” said the smith, with a sly twinkle in his eye. I see brawly fat ye ’re lattin at,’^ answered Johnny. An nae thanks to Maister Sleekaboot to fawvour pawtronage, ’t wud ’a never gotten a kirk ava baud awa’ fae ’t. But I ’se gae nae farrer nor ’imsel’ for preef o’ the evils o’ that system ; an ill-less, gwee^less creatur, ye may tell me, but nae mair fit to be minaister o’ a pairis’ nor a blin’ man is to herd sheep. An syne fat d’ ye mak’ o’ sic ootrages as Marnoch an’ Culsalmon’. to keep near han’ hame ?” ‘‘Weel, takin’ a’ that’s come an’ gane intill accoont, fat sud actually happen noo, but that nae less nor a hunner an’ forty-seyven members o’ Assembly sud vote against Mr. Cun- ningham’s motion— an’ some nae far fae oor ain quarter spak’ their warst against it ?” said the souter. It was cairriet though ?” queried the smith. Ou ay, by a sma’ majority : twa hunner an’ fifteen votit for ’t. But see sic a han’le as that state o’ maitters gi’es to them that’s but owre weel-will’t to be lords owre God’s spiritual heritage, fan they can say, ^ Oh the tae half o’ the kirk wants pawtronage.’ But the rowle obteens throu’ a’ - < ‘ whatsoever a man soweth, that also shall he reap.’ An’ tak’ ye my word for ’t, the day ’ll come yet that this pawtronage ’ll be a bane that ’ll stick i’ the thrapple o’ the Moderate pairty o’ ^ the Kirk o’ Scotian’, seein’ that they hed it in their poo’er to sweep it clean aff the face o’ the Ian’, but refees’t to len’ their assistance. An’ it ’s waefu’ to see the number o’ men that better things micht hae been expeckit o’ takin’ that time- sairin coorse. To them, also, may the words be appliet that oor freen sae af en quotit : — The sons of Ephraim, who nor bows Nor other arms did lack ; When as the day of battle was, They faintly turned back. Hooever, the Kirk’s coorse has been made perfectly clear. Her ‘ Claim o’ Rights,’ mov’t by Dr. Chalmers, an’ sec-ondit by Dr. Gordon, ’s been cairriet by twa hunner an’ forty-one to a hunner an’ ten ; an’ we ’ll see ane o’ twa things the true 132 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. Kirk o’ Scotian’ restor’t till her richtfu’ claims, or leavin’ her manses, kirks, an stipen’s for the sake o’ her spiritual liberties.” « V “ ^ ^ peneck trowth, souter !” exclaimed Johnny Gibb Ye never spak> mair to the pint i’ yer life. There’ll be a T ^ vengeance.'' ^ took his yearly journey to the Wells at Macdulf, he could not fail to visit his friend, Maister Saunders, at Marnoch, who gave him a spirit-stirring nar- rative of how the miniature Disruption there had been carried through ; how they had worshipped in a quarry for a time • how about twelve months previous to the date of Johnny Gibbs visit they had commenced to build a church and manse, to cost, together, well on to £ 2000 ; and how sub- scriptions had come to them from east and west, from north and south, some even from across the Atlantic, inso- much that they had a goodly surplus, which they had trusted to invest as a partial endowment for their minister, who was now about to be inducted. On one point Johnny and Maister Saunders were quite clear — that there must now be a separa- tion of the wheat from the chaff ; that is to say, of the non- intrusion, or rather the evangelical from the moderate ele- ment JohMy returned, indeed, fully of opinion that the Kirk throughout would be rent in two, even after the manner 01 that which he had now seen with his own eyes on a small scale. Lat it come,” said Johnny ; “ onything to roose the countra fae the caul morality o’ a deid moderatism.” Of course Johnny spoke strongly ; but in that particular he was not singular; strong language was common on both sides Kven able editors on the side to which he was opposed as Johnny heard and read, designated the leaders and clerical party m whom he believed by such choice designations as Edmburgjh popes,” “Candhsh & Co.,” “ highflyers,” “wild rk”’ 1, „^Sitators, reckless disturbers of the peace of the Church, and so on ; and in point of warmth and “ person- ality the addresses of the fathers and brethren when thev met were at times rather well worth hearing by those who relished anything in that vein. At the meeting of the Synod of Aberdeen, m October of this year, the moderate party had the upper hand--they carried their candidate for the modera- torship (Mr. Watt, Foveran) by 79 votes to 58 for Mr. Simpson, Trinity Church, Aberdeen, proposed by the other side ; and also, after a fair amount of rather pointed talk carried a resolution to admit to the sittings of the Synod the ministers of the Garioch Presbytery, suspended for their part MAINLY POLEMICAL. »33 in the Culsalmond business. In a subsequent discussion, one rev. brother observed that ^‘the blighting influence of mo- deratism had been thrown over all their institutions ; and even its corrupting hand had been thrown over their colleges and universities rendering them rather the schools of hell than of heaven;” whereupon two other rev. brethren sug- gested whether the speaker's words should not be taken down, with a view to ulterior proceedings, while a third rather thought H might be better to hear them with silent contempt” CHAPTEE XXIII. JONATHAN TAWSE AND DAWVID HADDEN. the November “ Convocation ” of 1842, the fer- ment within the Kirk of Scotland reached about as ^ intensity as it was possible for it to attain. While on the one hand the results of the gathering of over 400 ministers of the evangelical section in Edinburgh was held to give great encouragement to the non-intrusion party, It was predicted on the other that the reign of fanaticism was near an end, and the triumph of moderatism and rational religicm at hand.” In a few weeks thereafter meetings began to be held here and there in the interest of the non-intrusion party, for the purpose of giving all who were desirous of re- ceiving It, information '' on the present state of the Church and affording to the people the opportunity of subscribing papers declaring their adherence to the resolutions of the Convocation. The attempt to hold such meetings in parishes where the ministers leant to the moderate side was denounced m language more vehement than polite. Jonathan Tawse was only re-echoing in a strictly literal way what he had read in very legible print in a Tory newspaper, when he characterised It as “a dirty and disgusting” proceeding. '‘But,” added Jonathan, "the fanatics winna try that here— -they 11 never come this length.” " Cudna they be ta^en an order o^ gin they war to dee 1 ?” asked Mains o’ Yawal, to whom Jonathan had addressed the foregoing remark, as they walked amicably home, one Sunday afternoon, after counting the bawbees. "Naedoot o”t,” answered Jonathan promptly. "It’s against baith ecclesiastical an’ statute law.” " An’ wud it be a fine or jilein than ?” " That depen’s o’ the form o’ trial— there micht be dis- cipline, inferrin’ censure, an’ deprivation o’ status an’ pri- vileges ; or a process i’ the ceevil coorts.” Y " An’ filk o’ them wud be warst likein ?” inquired Mains, who was anxious to be informed, but rather bewildered by Jonathan’s learned deliverance. JONATHAN TAWSE AND DAWVID HADDEN, 13$ “ Ou, that’s jist as ye set maist store o’ yer pride or yer purse ; a bit canny joukin to lat the jaw gae owre ’s nae thrown awa’ wi’ presbyteries ees^lly ; nor heritors either,” added Jonathan, with a slight tinge of bitterness, as he thought how scantly his own merits had been appreciated by that class. Weel, aw dinna ken : it’s an unco time,” said Mains, peaceable fowk canna be latt’n aleen. I kenna fat they wud hae ; there ’s been nae ane meddlin’ wi’ the kirk cep some o’ that Edinboro’ fowk, an’ noo they’re begun aboot Aiberdeen tee, they say.” The truth was that Mains had suffered one or two assaults from Johnny Gibb on this subject; when, being an elder, it was, of course, needful to be able to give a reason for the faith that was in him. There was no want of will on his part to do so, but while Mains’s zeal in defence of rational reli- gion ” had been growing, his stock of polemical argument had not correspondingly increased, so that he had felt a little hard pressed in the matter ; and he therefore desired to avail him- self as far as might be of the dominie’s superior knowledge. Mains had now, as he believed, got such an insight into the law of the case as ought to stand him in some stead, if he could bear in mind the phrases ‘^ecclesiastical” and “sta- tute” law. As his question indicated, he was not quite so confident as Jonathan that the “wild men” might not even invade Pyketillim, if they were not frightened off betimes ; and he now articulately expressed his apprehensions on that head. “Fat!” exclaimed Jonathan Tawse; “tell me that that ettercap, Gushetneuk, ’s been thratenin that the faces o’ some o’ them ’ll be seen here ere lang ?” “ I ’m nae biddin’ ye tak’ my word for ’t, Maister Tawse, though he fell upo’ me cornin’ oot o’ An’ersmas Fair like a thoosan’ o’ divots, an misca’d the minaister, and said that he sud seen hae ane here that wud lat the fowk ken fat like he was — but speir ye at Dawvid Hadden.” “ I ’m nae misdootin yer word. Mains ; he’s a disaffeckit creatur, an’ likes to be i’ the heid o’ things. An’ fan the like o’ ’im ’s amo’ them that canna keep ’im in aboot, they’ll ^ae gryte lengths.” ^ The last remark was not exactly complimentary to Mains, who did not see its application clearly, however, but went on, “ Ou weel, ye see, I wud ’a fun’t wi’ ’im a bit ; only he wudna hand a word o’ me ; but was up i’ my witters like a fechtin cock.” “Was Dawvid wi’ ye?” JOHNNY GtBB OF GUSHETNEUK. 136 Na, na ; sin’ ever that skweel meetin’ i’ the spring, Dawvid ’s been i’ the black buiks wi”im, an’ wudna gae within a rig-length o’ Gushets an’ he cud help it.” Hoo cud he ken o’ ’s projecks than ?” ‘^Weel, ye’ll min’ o’ the cheelie that was wi’ me fernyear was a year, that leern’t to be a mole-catcher.” Brawly — a settril, braid-fac’t chappie.” Ay, ay, jist that. He was at Gushetneuk a’ hairst, an”s been takin’ moles i’ the neebourheid throu’ the en’ o’ the year. Weel, Gushets ’s pitten him as heich ’s himsel’ aboot this non-intrusion wark. He ’s aye eikin ’im up, an’ Dawvid, fan he ’s on ’s roun’s, lats at him fanever they meet, aboot the kirk ; an’ syne Molie canna hae’t an’ baud it, ye ken.” Ou, ay, an’ Dawvid acks the moudiewort wi’ himP^ Weel, ye ken, Molie ’s a simple cheelie, an’ Dawvid gets ony thing that’s gyaun on wi’ Gushets, aw b’lieve, seener throu’ him nor he cud dee ony ither gate.” Vera like Dawvid’s sneck-drawin’ ; he was aye a straucht- oot-the-gate callant !” said Jonathan, with a very obvious sneer at the zealous ground-officer’s proclivities. But although Jonathan could be sarcastic about Dawvid Hadden in friendly conference with his brother elder, he was far from being averse to availing himself, as opportunity served, of Dawvid’s gossip about the local feeling in kirk matters. Jonathan had, in fact, begun to regard himself as a sort of guardian of rational religion ” in the parish. The Rev. Andrew Sleekaboot held opinions more orthodox than his own, probably, anent the sacred rights of the patron, and the pernicious fanaticism which would question the powers of the Civil Court ; but what then, if the Rev. Andrew Sleek- aboot — with the exception of a quiet thrust from the pulpit occasionally — was rather studious to avoid collision, than de- sirous of enforcing his authority upon those of his parishioners who were manifesting a tendency to follow divisive courses. Mr. Sleekaboot believed in patient waiting ; the spirit of fanaticism, he still said, would die out. But even although the whirligig of tim.e ” anight bring about a properly sobered state of mind among these people, the process was altogether too tedious for the Rev. Jonathan Tawse’s temper. And he had become fully determined to strike a blow for Kirk and State, whenever and wherever occasion offered. Therefore it was that, when, on a certain evening not many days after the occurrence of the foregoing conversation, Jonathan Tawse caught sight of Dawvid Hadden passing the JONATHAN TAWSE AND DAWVID HADDEN. 1 37 end of the school homeward, he hailed him with the utmost frankness, and invited Dawvid in to take sneeshin and a drink of ale. , , ^ , An^ fan saw ye Gushetneuk ?” asked Jonathan. Weel, I foryet noo,^^ said Dawvid thoughtfully. It ’s nae time syne ; but I 'm seein' sae mony daily day.” ‘Ms he as keen o' the kirk sin' ye gae 'im sic a fleg aboot Hairry Muggart's meetin' “ Weel, they 've never daur't to try the like o' 't again ; an I gar't Hairry 'imsel' shak' in's sh^n aboot that at ony rate.'' “ An' Gushets — I 've nae doot he wud be o' the steel o' repentance aboot it tee ?'' “ Hairry was a kin' o' heid deester there, ye see, an' it wusna worth my pains min'in' the lave.” “0-oh! Ithocht ye gae Gushets up's fit— Fat's this't he 's been bullyraggin Mains aboot than— anither meetin' that ^ he's to baud at the Ward wi' some o' the highflyers ?” “I cud maybe tell ye that tee, Maister Tawse,” said Dawvid with an air of some consequence. “ I dinna doot it, Dawvid ; I dinna doot it. Ye 've a gran' scent for fin'in' oot the like o' that, man.” “It maitters-na fat wye I fan't oot, but I'm quite awaar 't they 've set the nicht for a meetin' wi' ane o' the rovin' com- mission, doon at Peterkin's hole o' a skweel.” “So the mole-catcher creatur was say in', I believe,” re- marked Jonathan, wickedly. “ Maybe,” said Dawvid, in a half offended tone ; “ an' nae doot he wud tell ye a hantle mair nor the like o' me cud dee aboot it.” “ Na, na ; he only said that Gushets sud say that he was quite prepar't to set the laird's delegate, Dawvid Hadden, at defiance.” “ An' did he tell ye fat authority the ‘ laird's delegate ' hed fae Sir Simon 'imsel' to enterdick ony sic meetin', an' fat mizzours he hed ta'en ere noo to pit a stop till 't ?” asked Dawvid, promptly. These were points that Jonathan really desired to know definitely about, so he gave up the bantering tone, and by a little judicious flattery induced Dawvid to explain to him how, on the evening of next Friday, which was fixed for the meet- ing, he proposed being down with a body of men and some dogs absolutely to prevent the assembling of a non-intrusion meeting in the Smiddyward school. A letter he had received from Sir Simon gave him full authority to adopt that course K 138 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. (as Dawvid interpreted it) ; and Jonathan Tawse, who as the conversation went on, had latterly waxed warm on the sub merely approved of the scheme, but declared he present himself, along with some of his trusty per- sonal friends, to give what aid might be required. ^ ^ Friday nicht at seven o’clock — we’se gi’e Gushets an”s non-intrusioni^s as snell a nizzin as they’ve gotten vet Gwe^ nicht, Dawvid, said the dominie. A^dTo'^hf CHAPTEE XXIV. PREPARING FOR THE CONFLICT. HEN the Rev. Jonathan Tawse was to have a dinner party, the laddies at the school were sure to become quite aware of what was about to take place. The external symptoms of the coming event were visible in Jonathan’s per- son and movements. He ^^sowffed” more to himself than usual, in an abstracted way, on these days ; one or other of the lessons was sure to be curtailed, and more of them were slurred over, for Jonathan had to go out repeatedly to the kitchen through the middle door to confer with Baubie, his housekeeper ; then, though we might be taken into school sharp at the end of the play hour, we knew that this would be more than made up by the promptitude with which we should be dismissed at a quarter after three, in place of an hour later. And above all — ^just as it was wont to be in the years before, on the days when Lord Kintore, and that great hero of our youthful imagination, Joe Grant, the huntsman, came round on a fox hunt — we knew perfectly well there would be no risk of lickin,” unless for offences of the most outrageous kind. On this side of it, Jonathan’s character called forth my warmest admiration at the time ; and, indeed, I don’t know that I am called upon to qualify that admiration in any material degree even yet. At any rate, that he was a jovial and kindly host on those occasions was not to be doubted. It was testified by the very countenances of his visitors as they were sometimes seen by us assembling about the entry door, ere we began to take our loitering departure homeward. It was on the afternoon of the Friday on which, as Dawvid Hadden had informed Jonathan Tawse, Johnny Gibb and his non-intrusion friends were to have their evening meeting, that Jonathan’s pupils were set agog by symptoms of the nature of those referred to. Jonathan was fully bent on carrying out the resolution he had announced to Dawvid, of going down to Smiddyward school, and interposing an 140 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. authoritative check to the proceedings of the fanatics, against whom his gorge” had been gradually rising for many months. And he deemed it suitable to assemble a few of his friends, staunch and true champions of moderate religion, who should accompany him in the guise of faithful witnesses! The company included Mains of Yawal, Teuchitsmyre, and Braeside, who, of course, as his fellow-elders, could not be omitted, and Dr. Drogemweal, junior, to whom he had writ- ten a note, specially explaining the object of the meeting. The doctor, as may be here said, was a great fleshy-looking fellow, about thirty, or a few years beyond it. He was not to be termed brilliant as a professional man. His grand charac- teristics seemed to be the enjoyment of robust animal health, and love of good fellowship ; and his present zeal for the Kirk of Scotland was somewhat difficult to account for, seeing his attendance at church on Sundays did not average much over once in twelve months. The dinner was a capital dinner, for Baubie's capabilities as a cook were unimpeachable, and she served no less effi- ciently than she cooked. Her master spoke familiarly to her, and Baubie, in turn, spoke just as familiarly to the guests. And thus, as Braeside sat masticating, long and seriously, with his knife and fork in either hand, set in a perpendicular attitude on the table, she would coaxingly urge him to see an' mak' a denner o' 't, noo— an' nae min' fowk 't eats as gin they war on a waager,'' while to Drogemweal's mock profes- sion of his sense of obligation to her for the numerous good dinners she had provided for him, she retorted promptly Oh, it 's weel kent that at'en maet 's ill to pay.'' “Ye hae 'im there, Baubie, at ony rate,” quoth the dominie. “ If ye had been wise, doctor, ye wud a' keepit by the aul' proverb that says, ‘Dit your mou' wi' your meat.' Isna that the wye o"t. Mains Mains, who had been acting on the proverb by keeping perfect silence, and attending to his dinner, declared his be- lief that the dominie was quite right, and added something about Jonathan's “leernin” giving him such an advantage, ^ a wide comprehension of these “aul', auncient byewords.” When the dinner was finished, they had their toddy. It was yet two hours to the time of meeting ; and in the interval they would discuss the general aspect of affairs. So, aftei they had concocted the first tumbler, and duly pledged each other, Jonathan took up an Aberdeen newspaper, wherein were recorded certain of the proceedings of the evangelical Preparing for tHE confuct. Hi ministers, who were visiting different parishes, for the purpose of holding meetings. First he put on his specs,” and next he selected and read out several paragraphs, with such headings as ‘‘The Schismatics in A “The Fire-raisers in B ,” and so on, winding up this part with the concluding words of one such paragraph, which were these — “ So ended this compound of vain, false, and seditious statements on the position of the Church, and which must have been most offen- sive to every friend of truth, peace, or loyalty who heard it.” “I say Amen to ilka word o’ that,” said t)r. Drogemweal. “ Sneevellin hypocrites. That^s your non-intrusion meetings. It concerns every loyal subject to hae them pitten doon.” “ Here ’s fat the editor says in a weel-reason’t, an’ vera calm an’ temperate article,” continued Jonathan — “he’s speakin’ o’ the fire-raisers — ‘How much reliance could be placed on the kind of information communicated by these reverend gentlemen will be readily imagined by such of our readers as have read or listened to any of the harangues which the schismatics are so liberally dealing forth. If simple laymen, in pursuing objects of interest or ambition, were to be guilty of half the misrepresentation of facts and concealment of the truth which are now, it would seem, thought not unbecoming on the part of Evangelical minis- ters, they would be justly scouted from society.’ That ’s fat I ca’ sen’in’ the airrow straucht to the mark.” “ Seerly,” interposed Mains, who had been listening with much gravity. “ A weel-featheFt shaft tee,” said Dr. Drogemweal. “An’ it ’s perfectly true, ilka word o”t. They ’re nae bet- ter o’ the ae han’ nor incendiaries, wan’erin’ here an’ there to raise strife amo’ peaceable fowk ; and syne their harangues— a clean perversion o’ the constitutional law, an’ veelint abuse o’ the institutions o’ the countra.” “ Did ye hear sic a rouse as they hed wi’ them doon in Fintray last week ?” asked the doctor. “ No ; the paper dj^a come till the morn,” answered Jonathan. “ I wud ’a gi’en a bottle o’ black strap till ’a been there ; an’ it w^s jist the barest chance that I didna hear o”t in time,” said Dr. Drogemweal. “ Was there a row ?” Row! ay was there. An’ maugre the leather lungs o’ them the fowk roar’t them doon whan they tr/t to get up a meetin’ in a mannie Knicht’s barn \ an’ fan they saw ’t it was 142 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. like to be a case o' physical force they war forc't to skulk oot o' the pairish, like as mony tykes wi' their tails atween their legs. That 's the style for the non-instrusion fanatics, Mr. Tawse." Wed, I never thocht they wud be ill to beat at argu- ment ; but they dinna deserve a bearin', it maun be alloo't. They hinna a fit to stan' upon i' the licht o' logic and common sense, lat alane statute law." Na, na ; a ^ staffy-nevel job,' 's aul' Skinner has 't," ex- claimed the doctor, with emphasis, refilling his tumbler. Physical force is the argument for them." Mains and his fellow-elders had been rather thrown out in this discussion, and while it still went on, Braeside, whose attitude had been purely that of a listener, now ventured to ask his neighbour quietly, '' Fat dis he mean, Mains, by aye speakin' o' ‘ feesikle force'— is 't ony kin' o' drogs Na, na," answered Mains, who was gratified to find himself in a position to give instruction on this occasion. '' ' F eesikle force ' jist means to lay fae ye a' 't yer able." ^ Keep 's an' guide 's," said Braeside, that seerly canna be fat he means ; there 's never been nae ill neepourheid amo' the fowk roon hereaboot.^ '' Weel, it's their nain blame," answered Mains, vaguely. ''Fat is't, boys.?" shouted Drogemweal. "Keep the bottle gaen there— thank ye. Ye'll need to lat the fanatics see that they winna come here for naething." "We wus jist speakin' aboot 'feesikle force,' doctor,” answered Mains confidently. " Ou ay ; physical force, if it be necessary. Mr. Tawse 'll gi'e them jaw ; an' I think for wecht at the ither style o' argu- ment 'we three' sud baud our ain. But they're to hae nae meetin' here at ony rate." " Dawvid Hadden 'll dee that pairt o' 't, dootless," said Jonathan, " if he be as gweed's his word." " Yon bit pernicketty wallydraggle ! He'll dee some ser- vice, or than no." " He's airm't wi' poo'er fae the laird, though— so I b'lieve —to keep them oot o' their conventicle. But jist pit roun' the kettlie there, an' baud gaen. We'll need to start in a few minutes." "My certie, ye're richt; it's the quarter past six," said Dr. Drogemweal, looking up at Jonathan's eight-day clock. " We maun start at ance, or they may be a' gather't afore we win there." PREPARING FOR THE CONFLICT. 143 The doctor then gulped down the remaining contents of his tumbler, and Jonathan having given Baubie orders to have a haddock ready by the time Dr. Drogemweal and he should return, an hour and a half or so thereafter, the valiant Church defenders set out for Smiddyward school, Jonathan and the doctor marching in front, the latter with a big stick in his hand, and Mains, Teuchitsmyre, and Braeside, who had begun to be a little uncertain of the part they were expected to play, following behind. CHAPTEE XXV. THE GUSHETNEUK MEETING. ^HILE Jonathan Tawse and his friends plodded down . J). towards the hamlet of Smiddyward, they had, as I have indicated, separated into two groups, Jonathan and Dr Drogemweal going in front, while Mains of Yawal and the other elders gradually fell behind, to the distance of about ten yards. It was a cloudy evening in February, though partial moonlight helped somewhat to lighten the darkness of the j reached to within about a furlong of the Ward, at the point where the road leading from the ham- let joined the kirk road, some one passed them going in the opposite direction. ^ Eh, man I” exclaimed Braeside, after stopping and look- ing tor a second or two in the direction in which the figure ^dgone, “an’ that binna Dawvid Hadden, it’s seerly his “ It canna be Dawvid,” answered Mains, “for we ken’t he 11 be doon at the Ward skweel afore “That’s as lucky at ony rate,” said Braeside, “for I’m nae jist vera kggiious aboot that doctor’s protticks, an’ Dawvid s hed a hantle o’ expairience— ’serve ’s, it wud be an unco thing to gar fowk get ill-willers amo’ their neebours.” Weel, but ye see they’re brakin’ the staito law o’ the Mams; “speer ye at Maister Tawse an’ he 11 tell ye the same.” • daurin thing to gae on in sic a menner,” said T euchitsmyre. ^ Ou, aw m nae misdootin’l; but it disna weel to mak’ fash amo’ kent fowk,” replied Braeside. In short, Braeside only deprecated conflict die more the nearer he and his friends came to the scene of action. They had passed Widow Will’s cottage, and also the cottages of che smith and souter, where the lights were burning cheerily in- side. They had met two or tliree more people, but there was no great appearance of a meeting gathering. When they THE GUSHETNEUK MEETING. t45 got up to the school, the windows were quite dark, and the door still fastened. ‘^Owre early, ye see,” said Jonathan. *^We had better step oot the loan a few yairds.” ‘‘Countra fowk^s aye late,” replied the doctor; ^^but whaur^s your advanc’t guard wi’^s dogs.^ He mitha been here at ony rate, by this time.” Nae fear ; he^s owre croose o’ the subject nae to be here in time,” said Jonathan. ‘‘Was that Dawvid Hadden?” inquired Mains, after a pause of some duration. “’Cause Braeside threepit owre h^ that yon was him ’t we met at the glack o’ the roads.” “Dawvid Hadden!” exclaimed the dominie, “Dawvid Hadden gyaun the center gate ?” “ I ’m fell seer it was him, at ony rate,” said Braeside. “Ye’ve mista’en the hour; an’ we ’re here afore the time,” said Dr. Drogemweal. “What’s to be done?” “ Mithna we speer some gate ?” suggested Mains. Sandy Peterkin’s school remained suspiciously dark and silent, and so, for that matter, did Sandy’s house, too ; for when Dr. Drogemweal, who had gone off to ask about the meeting, came to the front of it, Sandy’s modest window had the blind down, and there was no appearance of light within. The doctor rapped loudly on the door with his cudgel, and was in the act of rapping again, i/hen “a fit” was heard coming down the loan, by the doctor’s companions, who stood a little way back. The new arrival, who was walking rapidly, slackened his pace, and, as he approached the group, seemed to hesitate whether or not to stop. Stop he did, and a voice asked, “Is that you. Mains ?” “Ay,” answered Mains, with that tone of dry reserve which a man adopts when he is in doubt about the identity or respectability of his questioner. “ Aw doot ye ’re mista’en, as weel ’s some main” “Ou, it’s you is’t, Molie,” said Mains, in a mightily al- tered, and more humane tone. “ Ay, it ’s a’ ’t ’s for me,” answered our old friend the gudge, cheerfully. “ Ye wud be gyaun to the meetin’ ?” “Weel,” replied Mains, speaking very slowly, “WeeL Maister Tawse an’ ane or twa o’ ’s jist tyeuk a stap doon tho ^ ho we i’ the gloamin — it’s a fine nicht.” It wus till ’a been i’ the skweel, but they cheeng’t it, ye ken,” said the simple-minded gudge, not heeding Mains’s rather obvious attempt at finesse. ^4^ JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. Cheeng’t it?” exclaimed Jonathan Tawse: “an^ that, creatur Hadden never to hint at sic a thing to me !” uu'j Dawvid^s gotten nain leg drawn a wee bittie, and the gudge laughed quietly. ‘Mt was only the meetin' was cheeng^t ; an’ I tyeuk a rin roun’ to tell some o the fowk aifter aw was laid bye for the day. Dawvid was doon in gran’ time, aw b’lieve, as big’s the vera Sir imsel— ye ve seerly met ’im. He’s hame nae time syne m a terrible bung.” ^ The gudge’s information was rather more copious than palatable. But while Jonathan Tawse and his other friends were endeavouring to ruminate thereon, Dr. Drogemweal, who had returned from his ineffectual assault on Sandy r eterkm s door, asked, in a peremptory tone, “ An’ when ’s the meetm’ to be held noo ?” Ou, the nicht, the nicht,” said the gudge. An’ where ’s it to be ?” the barn at Gushetneuk. There cudna be a better place. Aw m seer ye ken. Mains, sic scouth’s there is i’ the strae en ahm the thrashin’ mull. An’ ye mitha seen ’s fae yer nain toon biggin oot the strae i’ the aifterneen.” The gudge paused ; and, there being no reply, he continued, Week I ’ll r^ed to be stappin; for aw hinna wull’t aw war late, an’ they re feckly a’ up fae this side a filie syne. Aw ’m sure it ’ll be a capital meetin’.” And the mole-catcher moved briskly on his way. It was not altogether a pleasant predicament into which Jonathan Tawse and his friends had been led. The way in which things had taken the turn that had brought them into It was this. During the week, Dawvid Hadden had been unusually demonstrative not only in letting it be known what he was to do m the way of stopping the meeting, but also the authority by which he was to do it. Dawvid’s object, of course, was to frighten the timid and wavering from showing face at the school. So far he had been successful, for not ^ly was Peter Birse in a state of helpless agony, but even Hairry Muggart, when down at the Ward on some profes- sional business’ had left the impression on the souter and smith that there was really ground for Dawvid’s boast that he had made shak’ in his sheen.” The two friends, there- fore, had begun to have some fears that the meeting might be spoilt in this way ; and, moreover, the souter raised the question strongly whether it was altogether fair to Sandy Peterkin to make him voluntarily invite ejection from his THE GUSHETiSTEUK MEETING. I47 school by holding the meeting there. He would go to Johnny Gibb, and suggest to him the propriety of transferring the meeting to his own barn. At first blush of the proposal Johnny got hot, and denounced it as mere truckling to petty tyranny, but he speedily saw the matter in a different light, and set zealously about reddin’ up” the barn as a place to meet in. The change in the place of meeting had been intimated during the day as widely as possible, and probably none of the well affected, who were likely to attend, had been left in ignorance of it. Nor was there any desire to keep others in the dark on the subject. Dawvid Hadden, even, had been in- directly informed very early in the afternoon ; but unhappily for himself, Dawvid had concluded it to be a ruse to throw him off the scent ; so Dawvid had observed that he was owre aul’ a sparrow to be ta’en wi’ cauff ” And the meeting in Johnny Gibb’s barn was highly suc- cessful. Thither came the majority of the residenters at Smiddyward, including the souter, the smith, and Sandy Peterkin ; Andrew Langchafts, the merchan’, was there, and his apprentice, Jock Will. And Mrs. Birse brought with her Miss Birse, along with Peter, senior, and Peter, junior ; Hairry Muggart, too, under the feeling that Dawvid Hadden was likely to keep at a respectable distance from Gushetneuk, also put in an appearance ; and the zeal of the mole-catcher had operated to the bringing out of a considerable number of farm servants, including his old rival Tam Meerison, so that the available space in the barn was fully occupied. It had been intended to re-instate Hairry Muggart in the chair, but Hairry being rather shy of the honour on this occasion, the smith proposed Johnny Gibb as the fittest person to be chair- man in his own barn, and the proposal was ‘^carried by acclamation.” This point had just been settled when the door was pushed open, and the head and shoulders of Dr. Drogemvreal thrust in. ‘‘ Come awa’ an’ tak seats, we ’re jist gaen to begin,” said the chairman in a somewhat emphatic tone. Ou, that ’s you, Maister Tawse ; a sicht o’ you here’s gweed for sair een. See, there ’s a bit bole ahin the shakker ’ll baud you ; ye ’re nae gryte bouk mair nor mysel’. Mains an’ the lave o’ ye ’ll get edge’t in aboot the en’ o’ the furms.” After the mole-catcher had leftT^gentlemen just referred to, they had debated among themselves what was to be done. Jonathan Tawse, who had managed to get into a great rage, and did not know exactly upon whom to vent his anger, would have 14^ JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUk turned and gone home in disgust, and it need hardly be said mat Jus lellow-elders would have been extremely happy to follow that example; but, as Mains of Yawal thereafter averred, Dr. Drogemweal bann^t feerious" at this proposal, and hinted that the zeal of the Pyketillim eldership must really be at a low ebb if it did not incite to pursuit of the fanatics wherever they went ; in short, he persuaded Jonathan to go along with him to the meeting, albeit his temper con- tinued m a ruffled state ; and, on the whole, it was not i:n- proved by the reception he met with from Johnny Gibb on entering the barn. The meeting was formally opened by singing part of a psalm (which Johnny Gibb ‘‘precented^O and prayer, a pro- ceeding the like of which not a few of the rustics there assembled had not before dreamt of as possible in a barn, ^d they felt correspondingly queer in the circumstances. The chairman then abruptly announced that, We're to get addresses fae twa respeckit minaisters fae a distance, settin' forth the prenciples o' the evangelical pairty. As ye a' see, the skweelmaister o' the pairis' is here tee ; an' he'll be waur nor's word an' he binna wuntin' to mak' a speech to defen' the Coort o' Session Kirk. We 'll hae nae objection to gi'e 'im t hearing ; but lat me tell ye ane an' a', that I 'll keep order i’ my nain hoose ; an' gin ony horse-cowpin doctor, or ony ithei ane try to mak' disturbance here, we'll lat 'im see the bonny ide o' the door raither seener nor he wud like maybe." The chairman's remarks naturally drew rather more at- tention to Jonathan Tawse and Dr. Drogemweal than these gentlemen seemed to relish, but without allowing time for either of them to put in a word, he continued, “ Noo, ye 'll get an address fae the Rev. Mr. Nonem — come forret aside me here. Sir." The platform consisted of a wooden threshing- floor, on which had been placed the chairman's seat and a small table with a lighted candle on it and a pair of snuffers. The rev. gentleman announced at once commenced an earnest, though, perhaps, somewhat verbose address, wherein he dwelt at length on ‘'the doctrine of the headship;" and then proceeded to expound the right of the Christian people in the choice of their ministers, calling upon his auditors, with much emphasis, to say whether they were prepared to hand over their consciences to patrons who might be pre- latists, or papists, or worse, and let the judges of the Court of Session in the last resort decide all such questions for them, for that was the pass things were coming to now ? c THE GUSHETNEUK MEETING. 149 During the delivery of this address there was marked attention generally ; they had not yet learnt the mode of giv- ing expression to their approval by ruffing ” with their feet, or otherwise, in Pyketillim, and the one demonstrative in- dividual in that direction was the chairman, who once and again very audibly emphasised the sentiments of the speaker by such utterances as “ Owre true, sir ; ” We a’ ken fat kin’ o’ caul’ morality we get fae your law-made minaisters,” and so on. It was evident that Dr. Drogemweal and Jonathan Tawse were on edge ; and the doctor had once or twice at- tempted an interruption by such exclamations as Not true, Nonem,” and “Question;” but getting no support from the meeting, he had found himself uncomfortably individualised by the chairman’s “ Seelence, sir ! ” and “ Wheesht, sir ! ” and had given up these attempts. “ Noo, Maister Tawse, we ’ll hear ye,” exclaimed Johnny Gibb, “an’ dinna deteen’s owre lang.” Jonathan Tawse started to his feet, and curtly declared, “ I did not want to speak.” “ Dinna dee ’t, than,” quoth the chairman, promptly. But Jonathan continued, “An’ there’s been vera little said here this nicht that deserves a reply.” “ Hear, hear,” cried Dr. Drogemweal. What were they to think, Jonathan pro- ceeded to ask, of men like those of the present deputation, who had vowed to uphold the Established Kirk, and were now trying to pull it down ? What were they to think of men who had trampled an interdict of the Court of Session undei foot ? Could temerity further go ? And why all this insen- sate hubbub about the interference of the civil magistrate ? Had the civil magistrate ever sought to enter their pulpits — he would like to know that ? Had he ever done aught but his duty in controlling the actings of a set of hot-headed zealots, who set all law, civil and ecclesiastical, at defiance, whose language was seditious, and whose actings directly tended to anarchy and insurrection ? During his speech, Jonathan not merely waxed warm himself ; he also roused the feelings of the audience. The chairman once and again abruptly expressed himself in a fashion somewhat short of chairman-like calmness and im- partiality ; his excitement infected the mole-catcher, who also cried “Keep to the pint;” “ Nane o’ yer ill-natur’,” and so on ; and when Dr. Drogemweal cheered Jonathan on by thumping with his stick on the edge of the “furm,” and shouting “Hear, hear,” “Good,” “That’s it,” and so forth, / ndrew Langchafts, seconded by Sandy Peterkin, very audibly suggested to “ Pit ’im oot !” JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. 150 Jonathan finished abruptly, and, while the steam "was still fully up, the second deputy rose, and endeavoured, by a few sensible words to recall the audience to a state of calm- ness. It so happened that this gentleman had not only been an old college companion of Drogemweal, but the medical practitioner in question had for a short time been a parishioner of his. And so, Drogemweahs blood being now up, he forthwith commenced a somewhat coarse personal attack, charging the minister with habitually neglecting his own pastoral duties, while he, forsooth, had the presumption to invade the parishes of better men than himself. I lived in IS parish more than a year, and he never once visited me — • that s the man to tell other men their duty !" exclaimed the doctor. Yes, my friends," was the reply, ^^and there may be parishioners whose faces we have little chance of getting mmiliar with, except in the way of private inquiry." Dr. Drogemweal was about to attempt a retort, when Andrew Langchafts stood up and solemnly protested against any one being allowed to interrupt a speaker ; and the chairman, with an emphatic shout, ordered ‘‘Seelence, sir, this moment, or I 11 get ye pitten oot !" What might have happened in this way had not become apparent, when Jonathan Tawse got to his feet, hat in hand, and unceremoniously made for the door Dr. Drogemvveal, with a muttered malediction, and a great amount of noise, caused by his stick and feet, as he pushed past some of his neighbours, followed. Mains of Yawal and his brother elders looked as if they would have liked to go too ; but, their presence of mind failing them at the moment, they had not moved when their friends were clean gone ; and then, as they did not like to be conspicuous thev kept their seats. ^ ^ A gweed reddance ; a gweed reddance, weel-a-wat," said the chairman, as he snuffed the candle beside him, after the barn door had been once more closed. ‘^Noo, sir, we'll tak' the lave o' yer discoorse." The speaker resumed accord- ingly, and spoke at length, and with a force and seriousness that evidently told on the more intelligent part of his audi- ence, after which opportunity was given for persons present to signify adherence to non-intrusion principles, by signing their names to a paper to that effect. Johnny Gibb was in his most exalted mood mar- shalled the forces to this part of the business, which seemed to him a process very nigh akin to signing the Solemn League and Covenant Mains of Yawal and his brethi'en, who saw THE GUSHETNEUK MEETING. 151 that the case was getting desperate, now rose and slipped to the door, while Johnny shouted, “ Gweed nicht, men, we’re muckle obleeg’t for your peaceable company.” Some of the younger people had left while the preparations for signino- jrere going on ; but most of the prominent members of the meeting were still there, including Mrs. Birse, who now sat on the front “furm,” with her husband close at hand. “It’s nae a thing to be lichtly deen, sirs. Ye’re pittin yonr. names till a dockiment that concerns oor ceevil an’ re- ligious leeberty. Come awa’, souter, ye’re weel fit to set ’s a’ an example ; ye winna pit yer han’ to the pleuch an’ luik L^ck. The souter had no choice but do as he was bid though the suggestion was made that the chairman's name ought to go first. “ It ’ll be lang to the day that I ’m fit to step afore Roderick M'Aul,” said Johnny Gibb. Johnny had an appropriate word for each several adherent as he came up • and I don’t think there was the least shade of conscious irony m the remark he addressed to Peter Birse, when Peter rose from his wife's side, and came slowly up to the table, '' Come awa , Clmkstyle ; I 'm glaid to see ye takin' pairt for defence o' the trowth set afore 's this nicht. I 'm weel seer ye 'll never see rizzon to be o' a different min' fae fat yer in eenoo, aboot fat yer deem here afore wutnesses." Peter signed with very much of the feeling that might have been supposed to animate the traditional John," when his wife desired him to put his neck into the mink to please the laird. Then Mrs. Birse, with a becomingly solemn countenance, rose, and after doing her best at a curtsey, and addressing an impressive Good nicht, sir," to each of the deputies, left for home. When men get into the position of public characters, they have m some cases, as it appears to me, a considerable reluctance to allowing that aspect of their lives to get obscured or be lost sight of. With Johnny Gibb this was not by any means the case; for although the barn meeting had brcuo-ht Gushetneuk greatly more into prominence than before, while hi^s handlmg of Jonathan Tawse and Dr. Drogemweal, junior, had made all Pyketillim ring from side to side,” with his lame a^, chairman, nothing more readily nettled Johnny than any allusion to the proceedings above narrated in the light of Ms own share m them. He was rather pleased that Dawvid Hadden had been, as it were, snuffed out for the time, and that the other two just named had been driven from the field, but the question before which they had succumbed was a 152 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHFTNEUK. question of great principles, in relation to which he, Johnny Gibb, was a mere entity of only the smallest dimensions, and not once to be named as a power in the case at all. In short, he was just Johnny Gibb of Gushetneuk, as he had been for the last thirty and odd years ; an inconsiderable person, speaking and acting as the impulse moved him, in accordance with what he believed at the time to be right. It was in Church affairs, as it was in other things ; Johnny followed his own path of duty, quite irrespective of the state of opinion round about him, and he was honestly unconscious of any claim to merit in so doing. CHAPTEE XXVI. SANDY PETERKIN’S FORTUNE. ,xWN the parish of Pyketillim the great event of the Disrup- ^ tion was not seen in any of its grand or striking features. Inasmuch as the Rev. Andrew Sleekaboot was a firm sup porter of the authority of the powers that be, there was there no exodus from the Manse ; the minister, for conscience’ sake, leaving the comfortable home of by-gone years, where his children had grown up about him, sending his family away many miles, and himself finding the home where he was to spend solitary months on months in a poor cottage, which afforded him the accommodation of only an indifferent but and ben.” And, of course, if the entire body of the parishioners of Pyketillim would only have been guided by his advice, the Disruption, so far as Pyketillim was concerned, would have been a nonentity. It was curious to note how the three men of highest learning and position connected with the parish, viz., the Rev. Mr. Sleekaboot, the Rev. Jonathan Tawse, and Sir Simon Frissal, in their several ways, denounced the approaching event, or prophesied evil, and evil only, as its result, while they predicted disaster to all who might be aid- ing and abetting in bringing about its accomplishment. N ever- theless, I doubt very much whether it would have been for the advantage of Pyketillim, even, at this day, that the event referred to had remained unaccomplished. As it was, there was a small knot of the parishioners, most of whom have been introduced to the reader, who had com- mitted themselves definitely to the other side on the question at issue. As to the varying degrees of intelligence and sincerity with which they had done so, we need not here speak ; one thing is certain, that they had all more or less to learn from the circumstances under which they were placed ; only we need not hastily call them slow in the uptak’,” for if I mistake not there are such singular examples in existence still, as people who took the same side as they did in 1843, and in 1870 have not more than half learnt the significance of L 154 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUtC. the lesson taught by their own professed principles, and the stand they took twenty-seven years ago. But to my story — It was on a Saturday afternoon in the last week of April, 1843, that Dawvid Hadden came down to Smiddyward, evidently on business. He was accompanied by a man with bare cheeks, wearing a long-bodied waistcoat, and trousers tight about the ankles, betokening that his func- tion lay in dealing with horses. Dawvid strode away past the smiddy without deigning to stop and converse with the smith, who was shovelling up a load of coals that had just been emptied for use. Fine nicht, Dawvid,” said the smith, and Dawvid gravely replied “Fine nicht,” but did not “brak his space.” Of course, Dawvid did not hear the smith’s semi- audible ejaculation, as he resumed his shovelling, “Fat’s i’ the creatuFs noddle noo ava ?” Dawvid went straight up to Sandy Peterkin’s, and without stopping to knock, thrust the door fully open. “ Ony bodie here ?” shouted Dawvid. “ Ou, ay, I ’m here,” answered Sandy Peterkin. Sandy lived mainly alone, the kindly matrons in the hamlet taking a general oversight of his domestic arrangements. He had been enjoying a quiet cup of tea by himself, and rose up to open his “ inner door,” as he asked, “Is that you, Dawvid ? Come awa’ ben. I ’m some tribble’t wi’ reek, but fan yer lootk doon it ’s nae sae ill.” ^ “ Na, na ; I canna pit aff time, fan I ’ve l^uzzness a^ge.” “ Hoot, ye mith jist tak’ a seat a minit,” said Sandy. “ It ’s nae af en ’t we see you here.” 4^ Dawvid made no reply, but fumbled in his breast pocket for a bundle of papers. “I’m owthereest, as awgent for Sir Simon Frissal, to summons you, ‘ Alexander Peterkin, residenter, furth of the dwelling-house and adjoining premises at Smiddyward, and to quit the same at the ensuing term of Whitsunday.’ ” Dawvid held conspicuously in his hand an official-looking letter, with a seal upon it, and he read from another of his bundle of papers. And as Sandy stood and looked with an uncertain stare, he waved the letter toward him with a sort of flourish, and added, “Ye thocht-na muckle o’ oor words, Saun’ers, man, fan we gya ye a bit warnin’, but that ’s vreet upon’t noo ; foo does that please ye?” “ Ou, weel, an’ it come to that, I ’ve haen to to afore noo,” said Sandy, complacently. “ Weel, ye ’ll tak’ notice ’t ye ’ve been regular summons’t i’ SANDY PETERKIN'S FORTUNE. 155 the presence o' a lethal wutness, Peter McCabe, to remuv at the proper time. Ye may go noo, Peter said Dawvid, turn- ing to the horsey-looking man, whose company he did not seem to be desirous of having longer than duty required. I 'm obleeg't to ye, Dawvid, for your great pains i' the maitter," replied Sandy Peterkin. '^Ay, Saun'ers, man, an' ye maybe thankfu' that ye've gotten so lang warnin'. It wasna necessar' to gi'e a day's notice. Ye ocht to ken that ye 've been at oor merciment ilka minit sin' ever ye sat doon here. Ye 've nae proper possession o' the premises, accordin' to law ; an' cud be turn't oot at ony time. But Sir Simon Frissal's mair o' a gentleman nor tak' advantage o' the vera peerest incomer on 's estates." “Muckle obleeg't to Sir Simon ; he'll nae doot be turnin the place till a better purpose ance he war redd o' 's." ‘‘It maitters-na to you; he's enteetl't to hae's v^l re- speckit by them 't's behaud'n till 'im for a biel' to pit their heid in. An' nae less to see 't the premises on 's nain property sanna be ees't to herbour malcontents, an' gi'e encouragement to oonlawfu' gedderins. That 's fat yer non-intrusion comes till — ye mitha leern't mair wut ere noo, man, an' ye cud 'a ta'en a tellin' fae fowk wi' mair gujnption nor yersel'." ‘‘ Oh, weel, gin Sir Simon be fo clear aff a' the non-intru- sionists upo' the place, I 'll suffer in gweed company. Ye 'll be gyaun owre bye to summons Gushets neist, nae doot ?" “ Jist leern ye to keep a ceevil tongue i' yer heid, Saun'ers, man. That 's nedder here nor there ; but I 've something ither adee nor waste time nyatterin on wi' the like o' you," and with this the ground-officer turned and passed away, and Sandy Peterkin shut the door and proceeded to finish his tea. On his homeward route, Dawvid Hadden took care to make a call at the shop of Hairry Muggart, the wright ; where in an “overly" way, as Hairry said, he turned out the fomous summons he had just professed to serve on Sandv Peterkin. ^ “An' will he raelly be pitten oot?" asked Hairry, with some earnestness. “Pitten oot !" exclaimed Dawvid. “ Div ye mean to say that Sir Simon Frissal wud mak' a feel o' 'imsel' or gae back o s word, aifter sen'in' 's nain awgent to summons ony ane oot ? Ay Hairry, man, that 's but the beginnin' o"t," said Dawvid, pocketing his papers. “ The langest livers sees maist ferlies. Aw wudna won'er nor there may be mair summonses ere lansr gyang." ^ JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. 156 On that very evening, after ^‘droppin’” time, Hairry Muggart was away to Smiddyward to see the smith and the souter. Hairry’s statement was the first intimation they had received of what Dawvid Hadden had really been about; and the question naturally enough arose what had become of Sandy himself that he had not been down with the intelli- gence. The readiest way to solve this question seemed to be to call on Sandy ; and the trio accordingly went up to his house, where they found the honest dominie deeply engrossed in the perusal of a newspaper, which, he at once informed his visitors, contained a deal o’ vera interaistin ” intelligence about current ecclesiastical affairs. It was this, in fact, that accounted for his not having got down to tell the souter and the smith of his fate. The proceedings recorded were of some length, and Sandy had read the speeches made by several popular divines with extraordinary satisfaction and edification, as he now proceeded to set forth. When he had got round to the less lofty but more practical subject of Dawvid Hadden’s visit, he narrated the circumstances much as they have been set forth, and seemed rather pleased that he had been able ta keep Dawvid tolerably well ^‘in aboot” in the long run. It was evident that Dawvid Hadden’s visit was seriously meant. Sandy Peterkin’s three friends felt it to be so ; and I am verily persuaded, in full view of the somewhat awkward consequences it involved to him personally, Sandy was the least deeply concerned of the group. When Johnny Gibb had been told of it he stormed fiercely, and talked of employ- ing a lawyer to set at defiance Dawvid Hadden’s irregular summons. But of course this passed off, though Johnny re- tained his determination to give “ Sir Seemon ” a few lines of his mind, so soon as he should return to the quarter. The settled conviction of the smith, in which the others concurred, was that the ejection of Sandy Peterkin was the joint perfor- mance of the Rev. Mr. Sleekaboot, Jonathan Tawse, and Dawvid Hadden ; that is to say, their united wisdom had settled it as the judicious and proper thing to be done, with the view of striking terror into the fanatics, it being evident that things were coming to a head; and this once agreed upon, there was no difficulty in obtaining Sir Simon Frissal’s authority for carrying it out in the fashion adopted by Dawvid Hadden. The result was that, when Whitsunday came, the humble school door was locked for good and all. Sai dy Peterkin’s scholars took their several ways homeward, after a parting SANDY PETERKIN'S FORTUNE 157 advice and much kindly “ clappin ” on his side, and not a few tears on theirs ; and Sandy Peterkin was once more a gentle- man at large in the world, a proposal to engage him as private tutor to his classical pupil, Benjie Birse, having fallen through, not because Sandy would have asked unreasonable terms, but because Mrs. Birse felt there was some force in Miss Birse^s objection to admitting a person like him to the parlour society and parlour fare of Clinkstyle, while it would have been at the same time degrading to Benjie to have his tutor herding with the farm servants. iiSi: • III „ CHAPTEE XXVII. MAINS OF YAWAL AT THE SYNOD. ► Y the time that Sandy Peterkin had been summoned _ out of the school, Johnny Gibb was quite prepared for seeing the venerable Kirk of Scotland rent asunder. One thing that had strongly excited his feelings was the meeting of the Aberdeen Synod. Hitherto in the parish of Pyketillim, apart from the gathering and distribution of the offering, the office of the ruling elder,^^ as already stated, had been very much of a sinecure. The Rev. Andrew Sleekaboot rode to the Presbytery meetings with great regularity, but he had not up to this time felt it necessary to have the intelligent laity of the parish represented in the rev. court. Now, however, great questions were at stake, and votes had come to be of importance. So, by the unanimous voice of the Session, Mains of Yawal was appointed ruling elder for Pyketillim. Mains went to a meeting of Presbytery, and sat out the affair in a wearied sort of way, but as the ait seed was just be- ginning, he loudly grudged the waste of time which his new dignity had entailed on him. The Synod met in the second week of April, and at the kirk next Sunday, Mains had an onset from the minister and the dominie, as to the absolute necessity of his accompanying the former to the meeting of Synod. Hoot, I haena been in Aiberdeen this three towmons; an’ forbye, I cud be o’ nae eese at Kirk maitters,” urged Mains. Buff an’ nonsense,” said Jonathan Tawse. ‘^Ye can seerly say ‘ Ay ’ or ‘ No,’ whichever the minister bids ye.” An’ it ’s jist the heid hurry o’ the si^zon ; I ’ve byous ill wunnin awa’. Pegs, an’ I hed kent, I sud ’a latt’n some ither ane be rowlin’ el’yer, I can tell ye.” Mains’s objections were speedily overborne; and the next point to settle was the mode of transit to Aberdeen. As the newspapers had just announced, the Aberdeenshire Canal was “ again open for navigation,” after some temporary stoppage, MAINS OF YAWAL AT THE SYNOD. 159 and Mains was decidedly favourable to going by the swift gig boat,” as the cheapest means of conveyance. So next day he had his old-fashioned gig a-yoke ” to convey himself and the minister to the Canal Head,” in time for the leav- ing of the boat for Aberdeen; one of Mains’s lads had been sent on an hour before on foot to bring back the gig. Rev. Andrew Sleekaboot, as became his dignity, took his passage in the cabin of the flyboat;” but this course his ruling elder resolutely declined to follow. He could save a shilling by going in the steerage, and why should he not do so ? Then, as was his wont, the minister would put up at that well-reputed hostelry, the Lemon Tree. Mains demurred somewhat at the idea of going thither, being convinced that they might be ac- commodated at some ‘^stabler’s” at less cost. But, as his knowledge of ^^the city” had got rusted, he was unable to specify the particular inn where he would desire to take his ease, and, under a sort of protest, he agreed at last to go with the minister, provided Mr. Sleekaboot would undertake to devote part of next morning to assisting him in looking up certain shops where he wanted to make safe purchases, im eluding that of Coutts, the cutler, in Gallowgate, who, as Mains believed, was unequalled in the production of a reliable pocket gullie.” The great question in which the services of Mains ol Yawal and his lay brethren were called into requisition at the Synod was, whether the ministers of quoad sacra churches should be allowed to sit as members of the rev. court. There was long debate on the point, during which a well-known leader declared that he objected to the General Assembly ad- mitting the quoad sacra brethren to sit in the church courts, ‘^not only on civil, but on religious grounds likewise;” and another less prominent member, no doubt feeling acutely where the shoe pinched him, observed that protesting against their admission, ^^had cost him many a shilling.” When the grand division was taken, it carried by loi to 55, that the quoad sacra brethren should not be recognised as members of the Synod, whereat, amid no little noise and excite- ment, the whole evangelical party left the Synod House, viz., the West Kirk, and thereafter met in Melville Church. Of this sweeping majority, close upon one-half were elders, the Moderate party having succeeded in rallying a force of these zealous gentlemen from the country of rather more than double the number of elders who came up to vote for their opponents. As a very natural result. Mains of Yawal returned l6o JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. from the Synod somewhat elated at the part he had played. The “ait seed” had gone on favourably in his absence: he had furnished himself with a trusty Coutts’ gullie ; had hunted up in inconceivable places sundry remarkable bargains, in- cluding fully half a hundredweight of iron goods, consisting chiefly of a parcel of second hand “sells and thrammels” one or two “back chynes,” and similar chain work, got at a mere “wan worth all of which he brought with him by way of luggage. Above all, he had done his duty by Church and State, and for once had seen his name printed in the news- papers. Mains had his weak points like other people ; and though the least like it of all men, there was not altogether wanting a slight touch of vanity in his composition. He had some time after his return related his experiences of this his first grand ecclesiastical campaign to Braeside and Dawvid Had- den, and by both had been eulogised for his unflinching faithfulness, in as high terms as their natures allowed, Brae- side remarking, “ Goshie, man !” while Dawvid Hadden, with a proper allusion to his own recent doings, observed, “ Weel it ’s jist as I Ve aye said. Fowk ’t ’s in a public an’ ’sponsible wye maun tak’ the lead an’ ack o’ their nain heids, but ithers canna be on-taen pairt accordin’ to their capacity — ye sud be prood o’ bein’ alloo’t to vote. Mains. I sanna foryet to mak’ mention o’ ’t fan I yreet to Sir Simon.” And, fortified by all this. Mains felt that a man who had buckled on his armour and gone forth at the call of duty amid the gathered hosts, could afford to be aggressive in some degree against disaffected stragglers. It was with some dim notion of this sort that, when he was next down at the smiddy, he fell on to the smith with — “ Nyod, aw b’lieve we sortit yer nons at the Seenit.” “Maybe that,” said the smith, with great gravity. “An’ fat did ye wi’ them syne? Fowk canna believe a”t they hear; far less a”t they see i’ the newspapers. But fan ye hed a han’ in ’t yersel’, ye ’ll be able to tell ’s a’ aboot it.” “Ou weel, it was jist to keep oot tMt saccra min- aisters — they’ve nae bizziness there.” “ Oh, aw thocht it was the non-intrusionists ’t ye wus settin’ doon.” “ Weel, an’ arena they the vera warst kin’ o’ them ?” “Na, Mains; some o’ them’s as gweed ‘constitutional’ kirk men as yersel’.” “ Hoot, dinna ye try to gar me believe that. Foo wud they MAINS OF YAWAL AT THE SYNOD. l6l be pitten oot than ? An^ they war pitten oot, an^ a bonny din yon Aiberdeen nons made, cryin^ a^ kin’ o’ orra jaw i’ the vera kirk; stan’in’ up o’ the seats, an’ aiven brakin’ some o’ the timmer wark.” ^^Ay, man, it’s a serious case it’s like. But I was taul’ that the day aifter ye hed fleggit them awa’, ane o’ the Seetiit inform’t the meetin’ that he hed that nicht ofFer’t up his ‘ sincere prayers’ for the misguidit fowk. Nae doot ye’ve a’ been as min’fu’ at yer private devotions.” The smith spoke this very deliberately, and when he paused, Mains merely said, “ Ou, ay, they heeld a prayer fan they met, an’ the blessin’ ere they brak up.” ‘^Jist that; an’ though we canna hae Seenits sittin’ aye, fowk ’t ’s been there ’ll be able to gi’e ’s a word in sizzon as weel ’s the benefit o’ their prayers, gin we be lickly to gae owre the bows.” Mains did not altogether relish this train of remark, and would not unwillingly have allowed kirk matters to drop again. But, unhappily for him, Johnny Gibb entered the smiddy at that moment. It was not necessary for the smith to apply his match to the tinder in Johnny’s breast; and Mains himself seemed to have an uncomfortable dread of an explosion. He tried not very skilfully or successfully to be cheery,” and to lead a conversation on other subjects. The smith simply did not back him, and Johnny Gibb was some- thing very like snappish. At last he put to Mains the rather unceremonious interrogation — Hae ye repentit o’ that oonrichteous vote yet ? Or is your conscience as seaBt as though the smith hed scaum’t it wi’ that reid-het sock plate ^ Hoot, Gushets, ye tak’ a’thing owre sair in eernest,” replied Mains, who was disposed rather to be amicable than the reverse. ‘‘Owre muckle in eernest!” exclaimed Johnny, “owre muckle in eernest ! An’ you gyaun an’ makin’ a teel o’ yer- sel’ to sair the purposes o’ a set o’ carnal, wor’dly-min’et rascals ; gi’ein’ your vote at the biddin’ o’ a peer seecophant, to deprive ten times better men nor him or the like o’ him o’ the preevileges that belang to them, gin there be ony trowth i’ the Word o’ Gweed, or ony vailue i’ the conten’in’s o’ oor forefaders.” “ Ou weel, it wunna hairm nae ane i’ this pairt o’ the kwintra, at ony rate,” said Mains^ with hardly an attempt to defend his position. JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. ‘'Dinna tell me, min. It's accurs't, reet an' brainch. There's yersel', 't kens nae mair aboot the prenciples*^the struggle nor that turkis i' the smith's sheein box, gyaun awa' to Aiberdeen like a wull chucken, an' preten'in' to tak^ pairt in decidin' the question, fan ye're jist han'in' yersel' owre, sowl an' body, to dee mischief. That's the tae pairt o' 't; an' we see the tither fan that vicious, ill-gatet ablach, Hadden, mak s imsel' the willin' enstrument to cairry oot the tyranny o' yer kirk pawtrons an' moderate minaisters." Mains had got very hot in the face and even angry by the time Johnny had finished this extremely violent speech. He did not give any formal reply, however, but in a rather loud tone declared that he “ wudna stan' that fae nae man." “Stan"t or no's ye like, it's the trowth," said Johnny Gibb, as he turned away to direct the smith about some bit of work. After this passage, the Kirk question was allowed to rest for the time being. But from that date onward Mains of Yawal entertained a pretty distinct grudge against his neigh- bour, Gushetneuk. A month thereafter the Disruption had occurred, and Johnny Gibb had at no little expenditure of energy got arrangements made for a Free Kirk service in his barn, to be kept up, if not regularly, as frequently as '' supply" could be obtained. CHAPTEE XXYIII. THE FREE KIRK OF PYKETILLIM. was not Johnny Gibb^s intention to be a Disruption ^ leader, yet he had become so de facto. The small body of Pyketillim non-intrusionists not merely conceded that position to him, but without him it may be doubted whether they would have gathered into any compacted form at all. To say that he felt his leadership to be an onerous burden would not be true; because Johnny did not feel it in one way or another, did not indeed know that he was leader. When he prepared his barn as a place of meeting, when he travelled on foot six or seven weary miles to a Presbytery of the Free Presbyterian Church of Scotland,^^ to negotiate for a supply of preachers, and, to promote that, boldly undertook to raise a certain sum in contributions — though Johnny in all this was carrying out a work which very likely no one else among his friends could or would have carried out, he was simply doing what seemed to lie naturally to his hand to do. Of course Johnny had all the time the firmest possible conviction that he was doing what was right, while, perhaps, his patience was not very ample with those who had less decided opinions than his own. And I daresay it would have tended greatly to the comfort of Peter Birse, senior, if he could have been inspired with a tithe of Johnny’s belief in, and fervency for, the ‘‘cause.” Peter had, perforce, been riven away from the “auld kirk and, as he accompanied Mrs. Birse and family, Sabbath after Sabbath, to “the conventicle,” as Jonathan Tawse wittily called it, at Gushetneuk, many a wistful glance did he cast in the direction of the kirk road, along which the forms of his old familiar friends were to be seen wending in the distance. As a last despairing effort, Peter had pleaded — “ Keep ’s, ’oman, it wud be a byous thing to brak’ aff fae the hoose o’ Gweed freely— mithna I gae up bye files ?” “To gae yer leen, no .?” “ Weel, it wudna luik sae glaurin like, ye ken.” “ An’ muckle better ye wud be o’ that ; it ’ll be lang ere y^ he?ir the Gospel there,” said Mrs. Birse» Weel, but ye ken Hairry, 't was sic a han’, 's been gyaun maist pairt sin' there was word o' Sir Seemon cornin' hame." Humph, Hairry! He's some mark, or than no. An' ye wud lat Dawvid Hadden Reyyou back to the hoose o' bond- age neist ?" Ou, it 's nae him ; but ye ken Hairry Muggart gaed a hantle forder a-lenth nor ever I did aboot that kirk wark." Ah, weel, ae turnkwite's aneuch," said Mrs. Birse, scorn- < fully. ^ Peter's statement was mainly correct in point of fact. It was true that Hairry Muggart, in a sore strait how to carry out his convictions, and at the same time avoid calling down on his head the wrath of Sir Simon Frissal, had come to the conclusion that the Disruption was rather a hasty and ill-con- sidered step. His principles ? Oh, yes, they were as staunchly held by as ever— so Hairry loudly averred — but why not keep within the walls of the national Zion, and at same time stoutly assail the citadel of Erastianism it would be gained ^‘come time." So said Hairry : and I am not sure whether a similar proposal was not even mooted in much higher quarters, at the last meeting of the Convocation," by some who have since laid claim to being distinctively the true representatives of Free Church principles. Besides, Hairry was an adept in theology, and those fledgling parsons of Johnny Gibb's, while he was pleased to hear the lads at a chance time doing their best, were hardly prepared to supply the strong meat that he desiderated. Accordingly, Hairry left it to be understood that he, in his own person, was a sort of concrete embodiment of the establishment principle combined with the theory of inde- pendent spiritual jurisdiction. So he generally countenanced the Rev. Andrew Sleekaboot at the delivery of his hebdomadal discourse, and then, in an unofficial way, would step quietly down to Gushetneuk to hear a sermon preached in the barn at such irregular hour as might happen, week-day or Sunday. Johnny Gibb's other friends stuck together wonderfully; and thus it came to pass that after a summer of preaching in the barn, Johnny took it in his head that a permanent place of worship must be had. It was autumn ; Sir Simon was now at home, and wherefore should he not be called upon to give a site. It was argued, in reply, that the man who had sanc- tioned the turning out of their teacher, because he was, in his estimation, a schismatic, was not in the lea^t likely, in this practical way, to promote the establishment of a congregation of schismatics. He ocht to be taul's duty at ony rate ; an' THE FREE KIRK OF PYKETILLIM. 165 lat oor consciences be clear^t/^ said Johnny Gibb, and the sen- timent was re-echoed by none more warmly than by the gudge, and Sandy Peterkin, whose season’s labour, in default of any- thing in the pedagogue way, had consisted chiefly in hoeing turnips at Gushetneuk, and officiating as raker during harvest. So Johnny Gibb and the souter were deputed to wait upon Sir Simon. This they did without loss of time, and were re- ceived by the stately baronet in his library, with great dignity. We’re here, Sir Seemon, to see gin we can get a bit seet ony gate.” ‘‘A what, John?” asked Sir Simon, severely. reed or twa o’ grun to be a stance for a place o’ worship,^’“^swered Johnny. ‘‘John Gibb, let me tell you, once for all, that the course you have been following for some time past has my stronger disapprobation. I understand, on credible information, that you have been a ringleader in this most mischievous and schismatical movement — ” “It’s been that creatur, Dawvid Hadden, ’t’s taul ye that, Sir Seemon. Only that ’s nedder here nor there.” “ I ’ll allow no interruptions, sir ! Disturbing the peace and good order of a quiet, well-conducted parish, by bringing a set of fanatics into it, to delude ignorant people.” “ We ’ve been deein fat we cud to get them taucht, Sir Seemon, baith in bulk leernin an’ the prenciples o’ the Gospel.” “You teach them !” “ Na, na ; dinna tak’ me up till I fa’, Sir Seemon,” said Johnny, who was now fighting his way to a broader issue than he had at first meant to raise. “ But we hed set up a gweed skweel ; a thing that there was muckle need for, as a’ the pairis’ kens ; though maybe naebody’s been kin’ aneuch to tell ye that ; an’ that aisp never haltit wi’ ’s ill win’ an’ ’s clypes, till he gat the man turn’t oot that was o’ mair eese ten times owre nor the pairis’ dominie ever was — speer at ony ane ’t ye like.” “ I cannot argue with you, sir, about the management of my property,” said Sir Simon. “Weel, weel; it’s but richt ’t ye sud ken the haill heids an’ particulars for ance, fan we ’re at it. An’ aw ’m thinkin’ ye ’re nae lickly to get owre correct news fae them ’t ye lippen maist till here.” “ I suppose your business with me is at an end ?” said Sir Simon, with dignity, rising as if to show his visitors, who had been standing in the library floor all the while, out. 1 66 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. Deed, it doesna luik like bein^ weel begun, Sir Seemon ” answered Johnny Gibb, in no way abashed. ‘‘ We Ve gotten nae answer, mair or less." Answer to what, sir We made a ceevil request. Sir Seemon, for a stance at ony conyamient spot to big a bit kirk upon." Build a church ? What do you mean, sir ? Do you sup- pose that I 'll allow people following fanatical and divisive courses to erect a meeting place within the parish. I would as soon forfeit my allegiance to Her Majesty the Queen." ‘‘Ou weel," answered Johnny Gibb, ‘'there's aye been persecutors o' the trowth fae the days o' Herod an' afore 't. But it winna be pitten doon wi' you nor nae ither ane, ye needna think it. Sir Seemon. A good day." And so Johnny and the souter — who had found no op- portunity to open his lips during the interview— made their obeisance, which called forth no response whatever from Sir Simon Frissal, and withdrew. The deputation had thus no favourable report to give ; and it would have been a hopeless case with the Pyketillim non- intrusionists had it not so happened that at the very extreme corner of the parish there was a bit of land of no very great extent, but on which there were a few houses, that belonged to a laird of more plebeian extraction than Sir Simon, and who lived at some distance. The plebeian laird had at one time made advances to Sir Simon and been snubbed for his pains. He therefore bore the baronet no great goodwill ; and on learning the position of affairs, was not sorry to find that, by ceding to the Free Church folks a little bit of barren ground with some old buildings upon it, he could have the opportunity of materially annoying Sir Simon Frissal. It was not that he loved the Free Kirk more, but that he loved Sir Simon less, and therefore he gave the site on reasonable enough terms. Upon this very inconvenient spot, which was nearly two miles distant from Gushetneuk, it was resolved to build. Next spring the building was set about, the goodman of Gushetneuk devoting a deal of toil and trouble to the com- pletion of the kirk, the design of which was a good deal less elaborate and costly than has become common since. The incidents of the kirk building were very much of the kind common at the time. Sir Simon Frissal, the lord of the Manor, had again left the locality before it was known that a site had been got, and Dawvid Hadden naturally felt the responsibilitv that lay upon tHE FREE KIRK OF PYKETILLIM. 167 him of looking after the ongoings of the ^^nons.” plenitude of his good nature, Braeside, though an elder of the national kirk, had gone to Gushetneuk, and offered to give a yokin^' of his horses and carts to assist in the heavy busi- ness of driving material : For,” said Braeside, the fowk s been aye richt gweed neebours.” And the offer had been accepted with great frankness by J ohnny Gibb, who 3 -dded, I wudna won'er to see you in oor kirk yet, man,” at which Brae- side shrugged his shoulders and ^^leuch.” No sooner had Braeside’s friendly deed become public, than Dawvid Hadden, rousing himself to a sense of duty in the matter, communi- cated with Mains of Yawal. Mains, who, from about the date of the Synod, had, as already mentioned, remained in a state of considerable sourness towards his Free Kirk neigh- bours, agreed that the act was extremely unprincipled on the part of Braeside, and readily undertook to speak about it quietly to his brother elder, Jonathan Tawse, who, he had no doubt, would '' sort” Braeside in proper style for what he had been about. But the greatest explosion on Dawvid’s part occurred when he discovered that J ohnny Gibb’s carting force was actually employed driving sand for the masons from a heap of that material, the accumulation of spates,” in the march burn between Sir Simon’s property and that of the laird aforesaid. He now boldly went and ordered them to stop. It was Tam Meerison, who still remained Clinkstyle’s foreman,” who was loading his carts at the time ; and Tam said — , ^ 1 1 , Na, sang aw, Dawvid. As lang’s I ve Gushetneuk s orders to full san’, it’s nae you ’t ’ll stop me, nor a’ the grun- ofdshers i’ the kingdom.” It was in vain that Dawvid vapoured about an enter- dick.” Tam said he might get a dizzen o’ enterdicks,”^ if his taste lay that way, but he would take his loads of sand in the meantime. The result was that Dawvid at once wrote Sir Simon, and, as Jock Will, from his public position, was able to say, put on the outside of his letter the word Hast.” Jock was observant, and could put this and that together pretty shrewdly, and his conclusion by-and-by was that the answer Dawvid received from Sir Simon was something in the nature of telling him to mind his own business, and not be perpetu- ally meddling with what did not lie in his way. At any rate, nothing more was heard of Dawvid’s interdict, and the new kirk was finished and occupied in due course, as will be noticed in its proper place. CHAPTEE XXIX. A CHANGE OF TIME. « PERIOD of three years had elapsed without bringing any very material alteration in the general aspect of affairs, although Pyketillim had seen one or two changes in its peaceful community. Our old acquaintance, Andrew Langchafts, had disappeared from the locality. The truth was that Andrew had not found the business of ‘^merchaff^' at the Kirktown altogether such a lucrative one as he had at one time anticipated, it might be. Probably the people of the place were too staid and sober to appreciate the enlightened commercial principles on which his business was conducted, or to avail themselves sufficiently of the resources of his entrepot,” though they had been in the habit, some of them, besides Mrs. Birse, of setting on somewhat resolutely on the “ leading articles ” which Andrew offered at a manifest sacri- fice.” The misfortune was that he never succeeded in leading them very far in that department of superior soft goods which • he had endeavoured to cultivate. The primitive character of their wants, as well as their practical and economic habits, forbade it. And so this department came in course to be more replete than fashionable. Jock Will, too, who had reached the status of a fully matriculated shopman, had left Andrew, to push his way further south, which was a great blow to the merchant, seeing Jock had acquired an aptitude for business considerably greater than his own. In short, Andrew Lang- chafts, finding that things did not meet his expectations, had been gradually tending to greater slovenliness in his habits. He took a deal of snuff, and, it was said, a little whisky some- times, though nobody ever saw Andrew drunk ; and he was apt to let the shop run out of this or the other commodity. Mrs. Birse, with her wonted sagacity, had a clear comprehen- sion of the situation, and in a quiet communing with Miss Eliza Birse she expressed herself thus : — “Ah, weel, they may say fat they like ; but I ’se warran' that loon Wull hed ta’en ^s nain o^ the peer stock afore he leeft 'im.” A CHANGE OF TIME. 169 Mamma, fat makes ye think that?^^ asked Miss Birse. Speer at Widow Wull fat wye she paid for that braw French merino 't she ^s been skyrin in this towmon noo ; an’ a velvet bonnet — she wud need it !” " But he was shopman, an’ would get them at prime cost.” “ Weel, weel, I ’m seer he ’s weel oot o’ the road at ony rate ; for that saft breet, Peter, wud ’a never made it oot wi’ Mary Howie as lang ’s he was i’ the gate wi’ ’s sleekit tongue.” Oh, mamma, don’t be always speakin’ of Peter in that manner.” Lat that gang than. At ony rate, Meg Raffan taul me nae langer syne nor the nicht afore the streen that An’ro Langchafts was jist at the gae-lattin, and wud lickly need to gi’e up the chop a’thegither ere lang. Noo, ye ken, he has a hantle o’ rael gweed claith upo’ yon back skelfs ; an’ I ’se warran’ gin a body war to gae in wi’ a poun’ note or twa i’ their han’ he sudna be that mealy mou’t about the best that ’s yon’er, gin he gat the offer o’ siller.” But fat wud be the use o’ buyin’ pieces o’ cloth?” Ou, ye ken, yer breeders ’s never oot o’ the need o’ new claes. There ’s Benjie, noo that he ’s livin’ i’ the toon, leernin a genteel buzne ss, maun hae a spare stan’ or twa ; an’ forbye I ’ve been thinkin’ ’t that grey y^r-nothing o’ yer fader’s, that the tailor docket the tails o’ the ither year, ’s jist growin’ some aul’ fashion’t, aiven for him ; ye see genteel fowk notices the like o’ that. Awat it ’s been a richt thrifty coat, for it was bocht the vera winter that Benjie was spean’t ; and though there’s little eese o’ a gweed thing for the like o’ him, it ’s jist eenoo’t fowk’s lickly to get a rug o’ something that wud answer the purpose.” There is no reason to doubt that Mrs. Birse had at any rate attempted to carry out the proposal here outlined. But what took her, as well as sundry others of the people of Pyketillim by surprise, was to learn in a few months that Andrew Langchafts had come to terms for his whole stock- in-trade and the goodwill of his business, the purchaser being none other than his old apprentice, Jock Will. And Jock, something smartened in manner since he left the locality, but still retaining his undemonstrative aspect, and his quiet, soft chuckle as of old, was speedily settled as the merchan’ of the Kirktown. How it was, nobody could have told probably, but from the day Jock Will commenced business and Andrew Langchafts retired, the shop had more of the aspect of busi- ness about it ; and very soon the public were compelled to M 170 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. recognise in Jock, who had flitted” his mother to the Kirk- town as the head of his domestic establishment, a capable, obliging, and thriving business man. At Gushetneuk, too, some changes had taken place. Willie M^Aul had acted as Johnny Gibb’s principal servant for seve- ral years, and then, as Johnny averred, he had got to the stage that he wud nedder baud nor bin’ wi’ tryin’ new prot- ticks,” in the way of farming and farm implements. Ou, weel, man, an’ foo sudna he get an iron pleuch as weel ’s anither ?” asked Mrs. Gibb. A timmer ane ’s sair’t me for therty year an’ mair ; an’ Hairry Muggart’s as gweed a pleuch-vricht ’s there is i’ the kwintra side,” replied Johnny. Ou ay, but it ’s the fashion, ye ken ; an’ Hairry an’ you tee ’s grown some aul’ style, maybe.” Weel, weel ; I ’ll be naething but deav’t aboot it,” said Johnny, “ you an’ the lassie ’s jist as ill ’s he is. It ’s a k ^iou s thing that ye sud baith tak’ ’s side to argue me oot o’ ’t.” This meant that Johnny had conceded the iron plough, just as he had been induced to concede other things under the same combined influence. But while Johnny would not yield a point in this way without something very like a grumble, he was secretly not ill pleased to witness the spirit of enterprise manifested by his servant, who really conducted things very much according to his own mind. In due course, however, Willie M^Aul announced his intention of seeking en- larged experience in husbandry by obtaining an engagement with a leading farmer in another locality. ‘‘An’ fa’ll I get i’ yer place, laddie ?” asked Johnny Gibb. “Ou, Tam, maybe said Willie M‘Aul, tentatively. “Tam Meerison, ye mean — wud he be willin’ to come noo?” “ Willin’ ! jist gi’e ’im the chance, an’ ye ’ll see.” “Weel, we’ve seen Tam saucy aneuch aboot bidin’ here ere noo.” “ Oh ay, but Tam’s turn’t owre anither leaf sin’ him an’ me sleepit i’ the aul’ chaumerie thegither, an’ Jinse aboot the too n.” ^ “Faur is he.^” asked Johnny. “ Dargin, an’ livin’ in a bit hoosie near the fit o’ the hill. I ’ll speak aboot it till ’im gin ye like.” Tam Meerison and Jinse, his wife, were “liftit” in no ordinary degree, at the prospect of Tam getting back to Gushetneuk, for which they were indebted to Tam’s old tor- A CHANGE OF TIME. tyi mentor. And thus the matter had been settled. Willie M^Aul had left on amicable terms to push his way in life, and his place had been supplied by Tam Meerison, who was now the father of a family of three. Tam was a really affectionate husband, and esteemed Jinse just as highly as the day she became his wife. Therefore it seemed to him to be in a measure Paradise regained, when he had the kind of work day by day which he liked and was fully competent to do, and when Johnny Gibb not merely did not grudge his going once-a-week to see his family, but made Jinse Deans and her offspring heartily welcome to spend a day at Gushetneuk at all times when they chose to do so. It came about after this that a certain portion of the tacks ” on Sir Simon FrissaVs property ran out ; and amongst these was the farm of Gushetneuk. Conjecture, therefore, was naturally rife on the subject of Johnny Gibb's handin'." Some wondered whether Johnny Gibb would wish to retake it, some whether Johnny, in that case, would have the hardi- hood, after what had conie and gone, to moot the subject to Sir Simon. At any rate, it did not seem likely that Sir Simon would have much difficulty, in the circumstances, in deciding how to deal with such a troublesome character. CHAPTER XXX, MEG RAFFAN ENTERTAINS DAWVID HADDEN. say that Mrs. Peter Birse was a careful and far-seeing matron is perhaps hardly necessary at this stage of affairs. Her capacity for management was felt to some extent in connection with the Free Kirk congregation of Pyketillim, for had she not once and again got the dog-cart sent from Clinkstyle to bring forward the preacher when they had only chance ^‘ppply had not certain of the supplies obtained been privileged to pass a night or more under her roof ; and now that the congregation had the stated services of a pro- mising and well-favoured young probationer, the Rev. Nath- aniel MacCassock, was not Miss Birse, with the concurrence of her sagacious mother, the first to come forward and give her aid as a zealous lady collector. Mrs. Birse made much of Mr. MacCassock, the probationer, and failed not, as she felt moved thereto, to remind the people that they were highly privileged in having amongst them a man of such gifts. But it was in the more private or domestic phase of her life that Mrs. Birse’s talent for diplomacy was best seen. It is known to the attentive reader, that she had some years ago contem- plated a very judicious arrangement for the establishment in life of her eldest son, Peter, and, as subsidiary to that, the virtual retirement from active life of herself and her husband. The plan involved, too, the retirement of Johnny Gibb from his possession at Gushetneuk. And now that Johnny’s lease was about to expire, the time to carry out the scheme was at hand. So thought the goodwife of Clinkstyle, and she considered it right to take measures accordingly. A little before the Lammas rent time, Meg Raffan had once again the pleasure of drinking a quiet cup of tea with Mrs. Birse, and on the evening of the day when the rents were intimated as payable, Dawvid Hadden, as he passed on his way homeward, found Meg’s hospitality so cordial and pressing that, before he well knew what he was about, he occupied the rather unwonted position of guest to the hen wife, MEG RAFFAN ENTERTAINS DAWVID HADDEN. 1 73 sitting in the arm-chair in the furthest ben ” corner of her house, while Meg busied herself in ministering to his physical comfort. “Yer health, aw wuss^ Dawvid,” said Meg, when she had emptied a bottle oT reaming home-brewed ale into a couple of tumblers, whereof she lifted one in her hand, having set the other handy for Dawvid Hadden ; ‘^aw^m richt glaid to see ye. I ^m seer ye hinna fauPt yer fit T my hoose this towmon," continued the henwife. Weel, it 's but seldom that I gae ony gate cep faur buz- ness tak^s me. Yer vera good health, Mrs. Raffan, an^ luck to the fools. N-ay !” quoth Dawvid, after a goodly pull at the ale, ‘that’s worth casin’ ale — that gars a body^s lugs crack.” ‘‘Weel, ye see, I can nedder dee wi’ a jilp o^ treacle bree,_ nor yet wi^ that brewery stuff that some fowk mak’s eese"o\ There ’s naething like a starn gweed maut, maskit i’ yer nain bowie, an’ a bunchie o’ wormit to gi’e’t a bit grip — tak’ oot yer drap noo. Aw’m seer ye maun be thristy as weel’s tir’t toitin aboot am o’ that rent fowk a’ day. Ye raelly wud need a bit shalt to cairry you no.” “ It ’s nae little tr^el that tak’s a body owre the grun, I ’se as seer ye,” said Dawvid. “ I ’ve nae fyouer nor twa-an’-foorty entimations to gi’e ilka time.” “ Eh, ay ; that ’s weel min’et,” replied the henwife, “ an’ foo mony o’ yer tacks rins oot at this turn “ Lat me see — a’thegither there ’s only aboot half-a-dizzen, encloodin’ Hairry Muggart’s craft an’ the smith’s an’ souter’s.” “ Dear me, aw Ihocht the crafts hedna tacks, but jist gaed on superannuat like ?” “Ay, but that’s oon’er nae lethal obligation,” answered Dawvid, drily. “An’ fat’ll ye be deein wi’ the bodie Gibb’s placie at Gushetneuk ?” pursued Meg. “ It ’s oot, aw b’lieve.” “ Weel, I hinna jist luiket at the maitter vera particular yet, I ’ve hed so muckle on han’. But an the crap war aff o’ the grun, I ’ll need ’a be at the road wi’ the chyne to mizzour aff some o’ that bits o’ places, an’ lat Sir Simon ken fat to dee.” “ It’s sic a noughty little bit handin’. Sudna ye jist pit it tee to the like o’ Clinkstyle, an’ mak’ a richt fairm at ance ?” “Weel, ov coorse there’ll l>e a cheenge at it at ony rate — but there ’s a fyou year o’ Clinkstyle to rin yet ; an’ fat eese wud Peter Birse hae for mair grun ? The man’s lang past’s best.” 174 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. Keep me, Dawvid, ye Ve foryettin that he has twa strap- pin’ lads o’ sins at hame.” “ Ou, weel, lat them luik oot some ither gate. To tell the trowth, Meg, though I ees’t to think Peter Birse a saft weel- dispos’t breet — an’ wud ’a been owre bye to hae a newse wi’ ’im ilka ither gloamin — that wife o’ his has sic a swye owre ’im an”s so contermin’t that I hinna been naar the place for years, cep fan my buzness tyeuk me.” Na, Dawvid, to hear ye say ’t !” exclaimed Meg Raffan, shaking her head with much solemnity. ‘^That’s the wye that ill-will begins. Dear me, didna I jist hear’er the tither nicht oot o’ ’er nain mou’ speakin’ about you, and remorsin sair that they sud never see ye owre bye, ^ Ay,’ says she, ‘ he ’s a richt able creatur, Maister Hadden, an’ a richt humoursome. There ’s fyou o’ yer buik-leern’t fowk like him,’ says she. An’ fa’s a better je^ge, Dawvid, nor Mrs. Birse — ye winna say that black ’s the fite o’ her e’e.” Ou weel,” said Dawvid, whose vanity was visibly flat- tered, I never hed nae ill-wull at the ’oman. But ye ken foo they gaed on aboot that non-intrusion — ” ^^Hoot, Dawvid, fowk sudna keep up um’rage. ‘Them that buys beef buys banes,’ as the aul’ by-wor^ skys.” “ Ou ay ; but I ’m perfeckly seer Sir Simon ’ll gi’e nae faj^our to nane o’ that Free Kirk fowk. Ye ken foo he order’t that creatur Peterkin to be turn’t alf, ’t ’s been gaen aboot like a supplicant sin’ syne ; an’ there ’s severals ’ll hae to gae yet ; lat me tell ye that ; or than my name ’s nae Hadden.” “ Hear ye me, Dawvid Hadden,” said the henwife, with the air of one who has something important to communicate, and drawing a little nearer as she spoke, “Ye maunna lat licht that I taul ye. But it ’s true that ye say that Peter Birse ’s growin’ an’ aul’ fail’t stock. Noo, Mrs. Birse mintit to me as muckle ’s that they sud be thinkin’ o’ gi’en owre the place to the aul’est sin, Peter — yon stoot chap, wi’ the fite fusk ers — an’ themsel’s gyaun to some lesser wye o’ deein, or a genteel hoose wi’ a bit craft, for easedom i’ their aul’ age. ‘ Awat, fat needs fowk forfecht themsel’s fan they hae plenty,’ says she. An’ for that maitter, the sin’s nae a Free Kirker ava.” “ Ou nae !” exclaimed Dawvid, incredulously. “ Na, weel-a-wat no. He’s never been a comn ^en icant at nae kirk, though the Miss is a gryte Non, an”s said to be weel on wi’ that fair-haiPt chappie, MacCassock, that preaches to them.” MEG RAFFAN ENTERTAINS DAWVID HADDEN. 175 Ou yea ; a bonny bargain the like o’ ’im wud be. Better till ’er tak’ ane o’ ’er fader’s pleughmen.” Weel, weel, Dawvid. Ye ken ^ an ’oman’s wut ’s in her foreheid,’” said Meg, jocularly. Ye maunna be owre hard on ’s ; we ’re a’ feelish mair or less fan men fowk comes i’ the wye and Meg^Bndled up like any other interesting female. When Dawvid Hadden had left for his home, Meg Raffan thought with herself that she had succeeded in serving the ends of her friend, Mrs. Birse, pretty fairly. She had not, perhaps, convinced Dawvid of the propriety of attaching the possession of Gushetneuk to the farm of Clinkstyle, but she had a shrewd notion that she had brought Dawvid into that state of mind in which he was not unlikely to yield himself to the furtherance of Mrs. Birse’s design so soon as that astute matron might have opportunity of more directly operating upon him, and that she would in due season find such op- portunity there was not the least reason to doubt. Meanwhile, Johnny Gibb plodded on in his wonted style, unconscious of the arrangement that was in contemplation to relieve him from the cares of active life as farmer of Gushet- neuk. CH APTEE XXXI. THE ELECTION OF ELDERS. the Free Kirk congregation of Pyketillim had got in a measure consolidated, and had begun to think of calling a pastor, it was considered desirable to form a regular kirk-session, for hitherto they had merely had the services of two elders as occasion required, one of these being the souter, Roderick MAul, who had been ordained at a by- gone time before he came to Pyketillim, and whose orders had quite safely been accepted as indelible,'' and another elder belonging to a neighbouring parish, who had turned Free Churchman. So Mr. MacCassock, the probationer, ex- changed pulpits for a Sunday with the moderator of the Free Presbytery, who read the edict " for the election of three new elders and five deacons, and invited the congregation to meet on the succeeding evening to nominate fit and propei persons. The election was a new experience in the quarter, and it caused a good deal of speculation. Jonathan Tawse declared that it would be a very ludicrous farce if it were not that the thing so nearly bordered on profanity, and his friend. Dr. Drogemweal, swore at this aspect of it even in the presence of the Rev. Mr. Sleekaboot, under whose hospitable roof the two friends were at the time. Nevertheless, there was a goodly turn-out of the congregation at the nomination meet- ing, females as well as males. Mrs. Birse was there, and Peter Birse, senior, along with her. There had evidently been some pains bestowed on Peter's toilet ; he was under- stood to be arrayed in ecclesiastical black, and, in particular, the upper part of his person was uncommonly carefully done up, with a shirt neck " of formidable dimensions and stiffness threatening his ears, and his hair combed into a sort of cleri- cal flatness very different from its ordinary ragged state. The only other member of the Clinkstyle family present was the second son, Rob Birse, who has simply been mentioned in this history previously. Indeed, it would be difficult to say THE ELECTION OF ELDERS. 17; anything more of Rob than simply mention his existence. He was a lad who was content to vegetate on in an entirely undemonstrative way at Clinkstyle— a sort of new and some- what duller edition of his father, so far as he had hitherto ex- hibited any character whatever. He was rarely stirred into anything like mental activity, except it might be through the aggressive action of his mother and sister. It was by their orders that he came to the congregational meeting, grumbling somewhat at the hardship of being obliged to do so. Mrs. Birse maintained a demonstratively devout attitude during the opening devotions. She and her husband sat in a pew well to the front, and behind them sat Hairry Muggart— who had come up to the meeting in their company— and the mole-catcher. The Moderator, in opening the business, pointed out the duties required of the elders and the qualities that fit a man for that office, and then asked the meeting to nominate such as they deemed suitable. Forthwith, the smith rose and no- minated Johnny Gibb, then somebody nominated the smith himself, and both the nominations were duly seconded. Then there was a pause ; and the Moderator invited further nomi- nations of men of known piety and zeal, and of unblemished life, no matter how poor they might be, or how humble their station. Another pause ; and Mrs. Birse sighed with impres- sive solemnity, and laid her head on one side. Then^ the mole-catcher started up, and with a preliminary “ hem,” said — ‘‘Maister Moderawtor, there’s ane that I think ’t we canna pass owre fae eleckin to be an el’yer. He’s vera weel kent to a’ here present ; an’ weel-wordy o’ siccan a office, though he’s nae ane that wud pit ’imsel’ forrit. But my opingan is that he ’s been aye owre bauch in ’s nain beheef.” (Here Mrs. Birse kicked Peter, who had been looking very uneasy, in the ribs with her elbow, making him sit upright and show him- self.) ^‘But ae wye or ither,” pursued the mole-catcher, “ though he hasna ta’en muckle direck pairt, he ’s been a great freen to the cause in this neebourheid.” (Mrs. Birse modestly looked to the floor, and shook her head.) “Moderawtor, aw ’m sure I needna mak’ a speech, though aw cud dee ’t ; ye a’ ken Maister Peterkin as weel’s me — I beg till propose Maister Alexir Peterkin.” At this announcement Mrs. Birse drew herself up with a severity approaching to violence, and Peter, who had kept watching her movements with the“ tail” of his eye, looked more uncomfortable than before. The general audience signified 178 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. theippprobation of the mole-catcher’s proposal, and Johnny Gibb starting to his feet said, “ I sec-ond the motion.” Then there was another pause ; and the Moderator re- minded the meeting that though the number of elders abso- lutely required had now been nominated, yet it was quite open to anybody to propose one or more additional candi- dates ; and he had no doubt there were other members of the congregation well qualified to discharge the duties of the eldership. Upon this, Hairry Muggart, who for some short space back had evidently been meditating a speech, swung u desk, and said : — Maister Moderawtor, I perfeckly agree wP your opingan that there ocht to be ane or twa owre an’ abeen, to wale < amon’ ; or else fat ’s the eese o’ the prenciples o’ spiritooal oondependence, whuch I ’ve aye mainteen’t, an’ for whuch oor ' forefaders conten it. Moderawtor, I beg hereby to exerceese the preevilege wherewith you have inveetit every one present to be a partaker ; an’ in doin’ so I have to bring one oonder the fawvourable attention o’ this meetin’ ; for the vaeluable services render’t to this congregation, which speaks for itsel’; an also his excellent partner in life.” Hairry, who had found It more difficult than he had expected, to face his rather un- sympathetic audience, and speak, ended abruptly with, I will add no more at present, but muv that Maister Peter Birse fairmer at Clinkstyle, be eleckit.” ' They waited a little, but nobody seconded. But the Mo- derator said this was not necessary ; so the name of Peter Birse was added to the list of elders elect. The next business was to nominate deacons, which was speedily done, the name of Jock Will coming first, and that of the mole-catcher second in order ; and in all some seven or eight, chiefly of the younger men, were named. When all this was done, the meeting was brought to close in the usual way, after the Moderator had conducted another ‘^exercise” in which the souter, who at his request, took part, prayed earnestly that He who knew the hearts of all might show them which of these men He had chosen; and that there might be close dealing with conscience on the part of the elders elect, to make sure that the carnal man had no place in moving them toward this spiritual office. ^‘An’ that’s yer meetin’ ao!” exclaimed Mrs. Birse, ad- dressing Hairry Muggart, who had kept as close by her as his ponderous style of locomotion would allow whilst the goodwife flung through the people as they loiteringly dis- THE ELECTION OF ELDERS. 179 persed from the door of the place of meeting. 1 wud like to ken fat kin^ o’ a moderawtor he is ; or foo they sud ’a pitten him into Maister MacCassock’s place. A man that ken’s nae ane there fae the orraest creatur i’ the congregation ?” “ Weel,” said Hairry, aw b’lieve they maun hae ane ’t ’s been ordeen’t to be moderawtor, accordin’ to the rowles o’ the Kirk. But he ’s nae gryte deykn at it, weel-a-wat.” Humph ! deykn at it ! It was seerly his duty as a minaister o’ the gospel to warn them to luik oot for fowk o’ re- spectable character, instead o’ gaen oot o’ ’s gate to tell them that they mith eleck ony wil’ ranegill, or ca’d aboot ne’er-do- ' weel, though he hinna three bawbees i’ the wardle to bless ’imsel’ wi’.” Nae doot,” said Hairry, ^^nae doot. But ye ken they ’re nae eleckit yet. Fan the votin’ comes that ’ll turn the guise wi’ them, or than I won’er at it. Ye see I hed it weel i’ my min’ till objeck to Sandy Peterkin, an’ request the meetin’ to ex- erceese the veto on ’im at ance. But, as I was sayin’, fan ye cam’ owre the streen i’ the gloamin to see /ler, an’ spak’ aboot it, I hed my nain doots futher or no aw wud be latt’n nominat’ Peter — Maister Birse, ye ken. An’ it was jist as weel ’t the moderawtor didna ken ’t aw wusna a regular maimber ; but gin I hed latt’n at Sandy, Gushets or the souter wud ’a been seer to hae their horn i’ my hip, an’ they mith ’a refees’t ’s a bearin’ a’thegither syne, ye see.” Weel, seerly Gushetneuk mith ’a latt’n aleen there no ; fan he hedna the menners to apen ’s mou’ for ’s nearest neebour nor nane belangin ’im — fowk ’t ’s lickly to be near conneckit wi’ ’imsel’ — I kenna fat he hed adee speakin’ for ony ane.” thocht Gushets unco dry the nicht,” replied Hairry. “ An’ a bonny smiddy they wud mak’ o’ ’t,” continued Mrs. Birse. “ Mak’ an el’yer o’ the like o’ Sandy Peterkin, ’t ’s livin’ fae han’ to mou’ o’ the wull o’ Providence, an’ a deacon o’ that peer simple vulgar creatur o’ a mole-catcher ; it ’s raelly nae fair to Maister MacCassock to bid ’im sit doon wi’ the like o’ them.” Weel, no,” said Hairry. “ The like o’ the merchan’, Jock Wull, mith dee, but ” “ An’ aw wud like to ken fat Jock Wull ’s deen to gi’e him ony preevilege,” exclaimed Mrs. Birse. “ Aw ’m seer Gushet- neuk kens weel that oor Robbie hed a muckle better richt to be nominat’, oot o’ regaird for fat ’s sister ’s deen. Peer thing, mony a sair fit has she traivell’t for the gweed o’ the Free Kirk, and that ’s fowk’s thank,” !! JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. Hai^ could only express concurrence in this sentiment. Hut as he and Mrs. Birse had now reached the point where their roads separated, they pulled up to wait for Peter Birse senior, who had fallen some little way into the rear, he having actually staid to converse for a minute or two with the mole- catcher and some of his friends. When he came up, Hairry assumed the jocular vein, and begged to congratulate Peter on his personal appearance in his ‘^stan’ o’ blacks,” so very suitable to the new dignity that awaited him. , . Hairry,” said Peter, glancing toward his wife. The lave ’s seer to be eleckit, an’ Sandy Peterkin may aiven be pitten on afore me.” ‘‘ Hoot, Clinkies, that winna bide a bearin’, man,” said Hairry, confidently. ^ '' Bless me, man, keep yer ban’s oot o’ yer breek pouches • dinna ye see ’t yer rivin’ that black claith doon the seam • there s naethmg wud leern ye menners,” said Mrs. Birse. ’ Peter withdrew his hands from the pockets of his eccle- siastical unmentionables accordingly. Then they bade each other good night, and went on their separate ways homeward. CHAPTEE XXXIL DAWVID HADDEN VISITS AT CLINKSTYLE. N the autumn of 1846, Dawvid Hadden was laboriously at work on certain parts of the lands of Sir Simon Frissal, with his measuring chain and sundry poles, one of which had a small bit of square board nailed on the top of it. A rough -looking ^‘gurk ov a loon^' carried the end of the chain, and fulfilled Dawvid's orders in running here and there as Dawvid took a sight over the square-headed pole, and then shouted and waved his hand to the loon. This process was what Dawvid called " lay in’ aff the awQxes.” The results, it was understood, were all to be laid before Sir Simon ; but in what particular shape it might be hazardous to guess, for there is reason to believe that Dawvid could do nothing whatever in the way of making a plan, and though he was great at castin’ up ” the contents of a piece of land, that operation did not seem of very essential importance in the re- letting of the farms, seeing Sir Simon had their various sizes all carefully booked already. However, it was enough that Dawvid deemed the layin aff” of consequence. His operations at this time included, of course, the farm of Gushetneuk, and on the day that Dawvid was expected to be at work there, Mrs. Birse addressed her husband in this wise : — ^'Noo, man, ye’ll jist mak’ an erran’ owre bye to the smiddy, an’ cast yersel’ in Dawvid’s road fan he ’s aboot the heid o’ the faul’ies ; an’ see an’ get ’im to come owre edder till ’s denner, or than afore he lowse.” I was jist gyaun awa’ to tirr that bit huickie that we wus takin’ into the barn to thrash,” said Peter, not over anxious to undertake the mission. Cudnin some o’ the boys gae ?”^ “ Peter Birse, will ye dee ’s ye ’re bidden ? A het invitation that wud be to ony ane ackin oon’er yer laird. Sen’ a laddie, an’ you gyaun aboot the toon the neist thing to han’ idle !” “Weel, gin Dawvid ’ll come. But we’re nae needin’ the smiddy. I was there the streen. I’ll rather gae owre to i 82 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. Gushets wi' the probang that we had the tither nicht fan the yalla feeder worriet on a neep. Aw 'se warran’ the fowk 'll be needin' 't." Geyan lickly gae to Gushets ! As muckle 's ye wud gi'e Dawvid to oon'erstan' that we 're as gryte 's creel heids wi’ them. Some eese o' seekin! 'im at that rate. Fan will ye leern rumgumption, man ?" Peter did not see it clearly even yet. Only he knew it was needless to maintain further debate. So he went away and searched out a hayfork that had got lamed of one prong, and started for the smiddy. It was only after he had been there and was on his way home again that he found Dawvid Hadden at a point where he could be conveniently approached. Rather to Peter's surprise, Dawvid proved to be affable in a high degree. ^ Mrs. Birse could have given Peter a probable reason for this ; but it was not to be expected that Mrs. Birse would feel it in the least necessary to do anything of the sort. Dawvid could not by any ^'menner o' means " come to Clink- style that day ; for he had got to finish his layin' aff," and then go home and write Sir Simon ; and he even hinted that that might not exhaust the ''buzness" before him ; but Peter was authorised to give Mrs. Birse assurance that he would be athort the morn's gloamin," without fail. Dawvid Hadden was essentially a man of his word in so far as fulfilment of his engagements was concerned, and ac- cordingly he duly made appearance at Clinkstyle as he had promised. I rather think that Mrs. Birse was not disap- pointed at his putting the visit off for a day. It gave her leisure to mature things more fully. It was just a fortnight after the meeting for the nomination of elders ; the election had taken place in the interim^ and Peter Birse, senior, had stood at the bottom of the poll. On this occasion (it was on a Wednesday evening) Peter, who had no clerical character now to maintain, had been instructed to wash his face and shave (which he sometimes did, if anything happened to be going, when the week was only half run), and then to put on his grey ''journey claes " and step up the loan and meet Dawvid. All this he did and then he, with due ceremony, conducted the ground-officer round by the "entry" door and into the best parlour. The room in question was finished much in the usual style, the front wall carrying oil portraits of the master and mistress of the house, done at a former date by an itinerating artist, when Peter Birse was assumed to be a sprightly young man, given to sticking his hand into the DAWVID HADDEN VISITS AT CLINKSTYLE. 1 83 breast of his black vest, and Mrs. Birse, a blushing beauty, who manipulated a rose in her slender fingers ; the other pictorial decorations of the parlour were the framed print of a man who was either Sir William Wallace or Rob Roy, atti- tudinising with a sword and shield, and the traditional ‘‘ sam- pler.” It was laid out for tea. An enormous old-fashioned urn, which lay under the disadvantage of leaking so badly as to compel its presence there to be purely ornamental, occu- pied the centre of the table, while the multiplicity of crockery of all sorts surrounding it was enough to bewilder any ordinary mortal. Mrs. Birse was dressed in her black silk, with a collar spreading over her shoulders, and a most formidable black lace cap, perfectly ablaze with branches of ^^gum- flowers ” of very pronounced colours and uncertain botanical character. She met Dawvid Hadden at the half-opened parlour door with a gracious, yet not too familiar “ I howp yer weel the nicht, Maister Hadden — jist leeve yer hat i’ the lobby an’ step in — alloo me.” When Dawvid had stept in he was a little taken aback, and would perhaps have felt slightly embarrassed, as Peter Birse, who had sAuffied in at his heels, had stopped his discourse, and seemed to feel the need of walking gingerly till the introduction should be over ; but Mrs. Birse came to the rescue. My daachter ; Maister Hadden, an aul’ freen.” Miss Eliza Birse, who had sat stiffly in the corner of the room till that moment, rose, and, with the air of a polished lady, bowed to Dawvid Hadden. Glad to see you,” said Miss Birse. Dawvid Hadden was not easily put out ; but he did not expect all this, so much in advance of what he had been wont to see aforetime at Clinkstyle ; and by the time that he had been duly introduced to Miss Birse, and had got seated on the chair placed for him, he almost fancied that his face did manifest a slight tendency toward perspiration. Dawvid had not quite understood that he came there to tea, but tea was ordered in at once. The want of a bell to call the servant was a great defect in the appurtenances of the house at Clink- style, against which Miss Birse had repeatedly protested. Mrs. Birse’s device in lieu of the bell was to open the parlour door half-way, cough in an incidental sort of tone, and then shut the door with a sharp snap. To ^^cry ben” was so horribly vulgar that it could not be once thought of. So the damsel brought the tea in a huge, ancient, china tea-pot. Miss Birse dispensed it with infinite grace, and Mrs. Birse showed no end of attentions to her guest. Even JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. 184 Peter Birse had latterly got to be demonstrative in that way, and urged Dawvid to take several more of the small biscuits, for the reason that ‘‘ ane o’ that ’s but a bite, man,” at the un^ gentility of which saying Miss Birse looked shocked ; only her father was too pleasantly occupied at the time to observe this very particularly. When tea was over. Miss Birse, according to arrange- ment or otherwise, left the party, as she had to go and make some visits. “Ye see she’s jist like yersel’ there, Maister Hadden— though there be a gryte differ atween a man o’ lang expairi- ence an’ a lassie — that she has aye some bizziness or anider on han’. Oor youngest laddie, Benjie, ’s been i’ the toon, ’s ye’ve maybe heard, for several year?” “ I wusna awaar,” said Dawvid. “Ou ay; he’s wi’ a Maister Pettiphog, ane o’ the heid lawvyers o’ Aiberdeen — I ’ve nae doot ye’ll ken him ?” “ Weel, no, aw cud hardly say that— we’re jist speakable acquant.” “Aweel, at ony rate he’s an aul’ servan’ o’ my uncle’s that was the lawvyer, and has a braw bizziness o”s nain noo. An’ Benjie ’s been wi’ ’im for mair nor twa year, leernin the law ; an’ aw ’m seer aw canna but think that he lippens owre muckle till sic a young creatur — actooally vreetin o’ dockiments an’ fat they ca’ progresses. Fat was that’t he said, man, fan we hed him and Mrs. Pettiphog oot here veesitin for an ouk fernyear ? Ou ay, says he, ‘ Lat ye Maister Benjamin alone ; it’s a sharp client that’ll tak’ mair nor the worth o”s siller oot o’ him.’ Weel, as aw was sayin’, Maister Pettiphog hed gotten chairge o’ that peer breet An’ro Langchafts’ maitters ; an’ ye wud raelly won’er, Dawvid. An’ro hed len’it oot triffles here an’ there ’t ’s nae paid till this day’s date.” “Ye dinna mean siller o’ ’s nain ?” So it wud appear; though a’body thocht vera different, i An’ fat does Maister Pettiphog dee, but get Benjie to vrite oot here to mak’ inquaries.” \ “Ye see he thocht we mith ’a kent something aboot it,” i observed Peter Birse. | : “Noo dinna ye begin to speak aboot things ’t ye ken j naething aboot, man,” said Mrs. Birse. “ Ye see, though we J be tellin’ Maister Hadden, ’t’s sic an aul’ freen, a’ this, fat’s if deein in a lawvyer’s office maunna be claickit aboot to ilka , body. So ’Liza wudna pit aff nae langer, but jist vrote i back to Benjie the nicht, an’ nae doot we ’ll hear mair aboot it.” ; ! DAWVID HADDEN VISITS AT CLINKSTYLE. 185 Dawvid Hadden’s curiosity, it must be owned, was not a little aroused by the dose of information so judiciously and skilfully administered by Mrs. Birse, and which seemed to give good promise of something more yet to come. From the point now gained, the conversation flowed on easily and naturally to a discussion of the character and credit of the neighbourhood generally. Johnny Gibb came in for some notice, Mrs. Birse purposely letting fall the remark that Johnny had not treated them altogether in the way they were entitled to expect. “ He ’s jist owre bitter no,” said the good- wife, “an’ I’m thinkin’ that oor nain Patie’s nae sae far wrang,” added she, with a laugh. “ It ’s a pity that he ’s nae at hame the nicht ; but he sic a bricht fairmer that he aye o’ the ootleuk for bargains, an’ he’s awa’ at the Hawkha’ market, faur he bocht a byous chape coo fernyear, an’ half-a- dizzen o’ stirks— for he has afen naar dooble the beasts ’t oor boim’s ’ill keep. Patie ’s a stainch Aul’ Kirk man, ye ken, an’ says he till’s sister, ^Ah, Lizzie,’ says he, ‘the Free Kirk may dee for women creaturs, but ye needna think that mony men at ony rate young chaps, wi’ ony spunk i’ them, wud thole yer psalmin lang.’ Peer ’Liza tyeuk it unco het, but fient a flee care’t Patie.” When Mrs. Birse had repeated these sentiments of her son approvingly, Peter Birse, senior, brightened up, and showed some disposition to pursue the same line of thought on his own account, but his better half promptly and adroitly turned the conversation, and the rest of the evening was passed chiefly in the narration of examples of the prudence sagacity, and administrative capability of Peter Birse, junior’ his father, Peter Birse, senior, being freely used in illustration as a sort of foil to set off the young man’s merits. At parting, Mrs. Birse ventured to say, “Weel, weel, Maister Hadden ; it s a gryte feast to see you for an evenin’ ; an’ ye maun come back shortly an’ see Patie, for he’s to be at ye to gi’e ’im mair grun noo, fan some o’ yer tacks is oot. Him an’ you can sattl ’t atween ye. We sanna enterfere— aul’ fowk, ye see rnaun gae oot o’ the gate o’ the young. It’s their pairt to be thinkin’ aboot ither things.” ‘‘ Aweel, I ’ll be thinkin’ aboot the new arreengements, an’ aw 11 lat ye ken fat a’ ’s to be done vera shortly,” said Dawvid Hadden. N CHAPTEK XXXIIL THE merchant’s SHOP. f OCK WILL’S career as merchant in the Kirktown of Pyketillim, although every way creditable to Jock him- self as a man of enterprise and business habits, furnished in so far an illustration of the saying that a prophet hath no honour in his own country. There were people in Pyketillim who had not been able to make up their minds as to the how and wherefore of Jock’s position, and who manifested a dis- position to treat him in his mercantile capacity accordingly. They had failed quite in finding out how Jock Will obtained the pecuniary means that had enabled him to become successor to Andrew Langchafts, and it was a natural solace to hint a doubt now and then as to the bona Jides of particular transac- tions, or the soundness of the footing on which his business was conducted generally. No matter though Jock was steady, pushing, and obliging to all, what business had he to be reticent on what concerned himself, and did not concern other people ? And if he would have his own way of it he must not take it amiss if some of those whose natural curi- osity he chose so unfeelingly to baffle should also use his shop simply in the way of a secondary convenience ; that when they had a pretty large order they should go to the Broch ” or elsewhere for it, and apply at the Kirktown shop only in a casual way, for any temporary eke that was needed to com- plete their supplies. And all under the implied belief that Jock’s goods were not exactly of the highest character ; or else that his prices were open to question. It was somewhat in this way that Mains of Yawal had been affected when taking in his stock of spring seeds. Jock had advertised the neigh- bourhood of his readiness to supply all these of guaranteed quality at the best prices going, and had solicited early orders to enable him to select his quantities. “Na — na,” quoth Mains, aw’m nae keerious aboot lippen in muckle to the like o’ ’im — Fa kens but he may be at the gae-lattin ? We ’ll maybe get a starn clivye r seed to mak’ up, gin we rin oot, for con- THE MERCHANT'S SHOP. 187 vainience ; but we ’ll get better and chaeper seed fae ither fowk.’' And Mains did run out ; and he came to Jock Will’s shop, and not merely insisted on having his deficiency in clover seed supplied, much to Jock’s inconvenience, who feared fall- ing short of the quantity that customers of a less suspicious turn had ordered, but ‘^threepit” hard to induce Jock to let him have it at a halfpenny per pound less than he had paid for his stock elsewhere. Mrs. Birse, it must be owned, had never been quite at ease on the subject of the inner history of Jock Will’s start in busi- ness ; and the letter from her son Benjie, to which reference has been made, seemed unexpectedly to open the way to light on the subject. She instructed Miss Birse how to frame a reply to her brother, the young lawyer, accordingly ; and the epistle addressed to Benjamin took the following shape : — “Dear Brother,— Your welcome letter was duly received, and we are glad to hear that you are quite well. This leaves us all the same at present. Your letter was very interesting, particularly about Andrew Langchafts’ money, which he loaned to Dr. Drogemweal, by signing a bill for hm, and getting it to pay. Mamma bids you tell Mr. Pettiphog that he is always in a bag of debt, and always promises to pay his debt, and never does it. So there is no use of craving him, she says, except a sheriff-oflScer do it, and reest his horse, which he cannot want, having so long roads to travel. Mamma would like if you can tell us more about anybody that has not paid ; and the most particular, to know if Mr. Will got all the shop things on credit, and has paid any of them yet. Mamma thinks he is in debt, because he had no money at the first ; and I would like to know as well as her. Don’t tell Mr. Pettqjhog that we was asking this. But the shop is so nice now, and everybody says that Mr. Will is a good business man. * Father was not elected an elder, but Mr, Will was the highest among the deacons. Mamma was very angry when father lost ; but says he has himself to thank for it. Last Sabbath, Peter and him was both at the parish church. Mamma said he could go, but I was grieved. She thinks we must not offend Sir Simon too much, and it is father’s own conscience that will accuse him if he does not do right. But she would not give him a halfpenny to give to the brod, because the Es- tablished Kirk has no right to that now, when it is Erastian. “Just fancy — they elected Sandy Peterkin to be an elder; and him is not doing nothing but living mostly upon charity ! Mr. Mac- Cassock could not be pleased about it. He is to be called for our minister soon. “ With kind love from all, “Your affectionate sister, “ ELIZA BIRSE. soon, and tell me all the Aberdeen news, and especially if you have got any new acquaintances, and been at any parties.” i88 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. With this note in her bag, Miss Birse, leaving the party ” at which Dawvid Hadden was guest, had set out to make some calls as collector, and to post the note at Jock Will's shop at Kirktown of Pyketillim. To the news-‘^ gizzened " rustic, a lounge about the mer- chant's shop door of a gloamin, as he purchases his ounce of tobacco, or other needful commodity, is inexpressibly grateful. He can see and hear as much as will furnish topics to keep himself and his cronies newsin " for several days. And thus it was that when Miss Birse got to the post-office, she found good part of the available space in Jock Will's shop occupied by customers of the class of farm servants, and amongst them Tam Meerison, Gushetneuk's man and ex-foreman at Clink- style. She could have posted the letter at the customary slit in the window, but Miss Birse chose to take it inside. At the counter was Jock himself, with bland countenance, attending to the more important orders, while the apprentice, dight in an ample white apron, measured out tobacco, whipcord, and siclike. And— could she believe it— at the desk sat Sandy Peterkin, pen in hand, and with a long narrow day-book before him ! Miss Birse tripped through the parting group of rustics, and, with extended arm, gracefully dropped the note from be- tween the tips of her gloved fingers into Mr. Will's hand. D'ye do to-night.?" asked Miss Birse, with an engaging smile. ‘Wera weel, thank ye : hoo d'ye do?" answered the mer- chant, politely. Then she asked particularly after the welfare of his ‘ mamma ; " and then she seemed at a loss whether she should recognise Sandy Peterkin or not ; but Sandy put an end to the dilemma, thus far, by nodding familiarly to her as he lifted down the merchant's big ledger. He could not speak at the moment, because he held the quill pen with which he had been writing in his lips in a horizontal position. Miss Birse smiled graciously in return to Sandy's nod. Jock Will invited her into his dwelling to see his mother, and as the apprentice was adequate to any business now going, he opened the coun- ter gateway, stept out, and gallantly escorted her from the shop to the house. “ She disna ken you nor me the nicht, Tam," said a red- haired chap with a very freckled face, and an enormously ample sleeved moleskin waistcoat, as soon as Miss Birse and the merchant had gone out. Na, na, Archie," answered Tam. ‘‘fat wye cud a leddy ken a Jock Muck like you ?" tME merchant's shop. I §9 '^Weel, weel, Tam, you an^ me tee kens fat kin' gentry bides at Clinkstyle ; an' faur 'll ye get a rocher, coorser breet nor young Peter, 'er breeder ?" " Sang, ye may say 't," answered Tam. Div ye min', fan we wus aboot the toon thegither there, twa year syne, oor needin' to fesh 'im hame ae nicht late, that drunk that he didna ken faur he was ?" Ou ay ; that was the nicht, was 't, 't we fell in wi' 'im stoitin aboot o' the road atween this an' Clinkstyle, plaister't wi' dubs to the vera croon o' 's heid. Weel, man, I thocht aw wud rive my yirnin lauchin at 'im that nicht, fan he begood an' grat an' taul 's aboot that deemie that they said hed the bairn till 'im." Weel ; it was keerious. He hed aye a terrible notion o' you, Archie ; an' leet ye win farrer ben wi' 'im aboot 's lasses nor ony o' the lave o' 's." Ou ay," said our red-haired friend ; ye see the wye 't I was orra man, I wasna never fess't wi' beasts at even ; an' cud tak' a roun' amo' the deems ony nicht ; an' I ees't to lat 'im gae wi' 's files. Mony a roun' han' did the jauds play 'im — he 's a saft gype— but Peter was jist as redd to gae back 's ever for a' that." ‘^Noo lads, noo lads, min' ye that's nae discoorse to yoke till here," interposed Sandy Peterkin, suspending his operations at the ledger for a moment, and trying to look severe. ^^Hoot, never ye min', Sandy," answered Archie, ^Hhough ye be made an el'yer ye maunna be owre snappus wi' fowk. — Weel, man, he was an awfu' munsie that nicht. We hed to lay'im doon upon a puckle strae i' the chaum'er for a file, an' skirp water in's face till he cam' some till 'imsel'." Ay, an' d' ye min' foo fear't he was 't we sud tell ony o' the neepours sic a feel 's he hed made o' 'imsel'." ‘'Weel, it wasna the first time, though he was never freely so ill's that nicht. But they say he's gyaun to get your maiden yon'er, an' that Gushetneuk 's to be pitten tee to Clinkstyle, to mak' a richt fairm to them." “Aw dinna believe a word o"t," said Tam, decisively. “Divnin ye.^*" asked Archie. “Man, ye wudna ken. She 's a terrible wife yon." “ Ay, she 's a coorse ane," interjected another of the group. “Coorse!" exclaimed Archie. “That's a' that ye ken aboot it, min. An' ye hed been wi' 'er, like Tam an' me, ye wudna not till 'a been taul' that there's nae the marrow o' 'er rQO JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. atween this an’ Tamintoul, for an unhang’t limmer, wi’ a’ kin* o’ greed, an’ twa-fac’t chaetry.” Sandy Peterkin looked up again with a remonstrating look, but, not heeding this, Archie went on — An’ yon peer, simple idiot o’ a man o’ hers ; she canna hiiud fae ill-guidin’ an’ makin’ a feel o’ ’im afore fowk’s faces, though for that maitter he ’s far owre gweed for ’er.” ‘‘ The dother ’s nae far ahin the mither wi’ some things,” said Tam Meerison. “Ho, there she goes !” said Archie, as he happened to glance outside. “ My certie, the merchan’ ’ll better tak’ care o’ ’imsel’ wi’ ’er — Weel, are ye gyaun to be stappin, boys ?” These last words were uttered as Jock Will re-entered the shop. Jock bade his customers good night very affably as they left, and then proceeded to arrange for closing his place of business. The reader has not been informed how it came to pass that Sandy Peterkin had come to occupy a position in Jock Will’s establishment. It came about very simply in this wise. That Sandy Peterkin was in need of some suitable employ- ment was a fact patent to anybody, and it weighed particu- larly on the minds of his three friends, the souter, the smith, and Johnny Gibb. Johnny even declared that the idea of a man of Sandy’s “pairts an’ leernin” hoeing “neeps,” or raking in “hairst” to him, was “ degraadin,” which Sandy did not in the least seem to feel, but did the work contentedly. They did not, like Job’s friends and others, proceed to comfort him in a critical way, but having met and considered his case — “ Weel,” said the smith, “ I canna think o’ onything better nor tryin’ the merchan’ to set him to dee his clarkin ; he has owre muckle adee till ’imsel’, an’ Sandy winna be ill to say till wi’ the waages.” “ Man, that’s the vera thing; aw’m seerly dottl’t or I wud ’a thocht o’ that ere noo,” exclaimed Johnny Gibb. “ He vreets a bonny han’,” said the souter. “Bonny! it’s like the vera copperplate,” added Johnny Gibb. Johnny at once undertook to see Jock Will in Sandy Peterkin’s interest. Jock, like a sensible man, readily fell in with the proposal of his seniors, and Sandy was forthwith put on trial as clerk, much to his own satisfaction, and with no disappointment to the expectations of his friends. CH APTEK XXXIV. DAWVID HADDEN REPORTS TO SIR SIMON. Johnny Gibb’s farm of Gushetneuk was to be reft from him, and he, Johnny, sent adrift from the lands of Sir Simon Frissal, as an incorrigible disturber of the peace, civil and ecclesiastical, it was very evident that the prospect before him gave Johnny no manner of trouble or anxiety whatever. When Dawvid Hadden, in the plenitude of his power as ground-officer, had deliberately stalked about for a day or two on the possession of Gushetneuk, climbing over fences, and “ sten’in ” through turnip and potato drills, or kicking up hillocks among ‘^new girse stibbles,” as he went on layin’ aff t/ the awcres,” it had seemed to Dawvid a settled matter that the obstinate “ bodie ” would feel the necessity of making up to him in a somewhat more deferential spirit than that which had marked their later intercourse about the date of the Dis- ruption. But in this Dawvid was disappointed. Johnny was to be seen jogging leisurely about, snoddin up ” the corn yard,” turning out his young stock to pick up the ^^natur’ girse” by the margins of the now cleared fields, or directing the ope- rations of Tam Meerison and the orra man as they laid on a substantial coat of “ top-dressing” on the old lea that was to be broken up ; but he heeded Dawvid just as much and no more than if Dawvid had been some insignificant interloper whom it was not worth while to turn off the land. Fat’s that preea-heidit ablach deein there, Tam ?” said Johnny, as he saw Dawvid Hadden cross the fence, with his attendant carrying the measuring chyne.” Ou, he ’s been at it yesterday an’ the day baith, layin' aff the grun,” answered Tam Meerison. Humph !” quoth Johnny, as he turned away homeward, a bonny layin’ aff, or than no ; he mith ’a sav’t himsel’ that tribble at ony rate.” The maister has a richt ill-wull at that mannie,” said the on a man, when Johnny Gibb had got beyond ear-shot. ^‘Ill-wull answered Tam Meerison. Man, he disna 192 JOHNNY GIBB OF GUSHETNEUK. think ^im worth haein an at : peer winV smatchet gyaun aboot prete^’in that he ’s~^r Seemon^s awgent. Little to me wud set the dog at ’im : ye wud shortly see foo he wud tak owre the dyke, chyne an’ a’ thegither.” labOTr”^ however, but pursued his Nabal vratch,” soliloquised Dawvid Hadden within him- self. It was not that he had heard the sentiments uttered by Johnny Gibb, for the two were a couple of hundred yards distant from each other at the time that Johnny had spoken • Dawvid fixed his squaring pole, he had allowed the ^ tail of one eye to wander toward Johnny in the hope that m place of going away in contemptuous disregard of his' Dawvid s, presence, he would come towards him, if not in a supplicating, then in a bellicose spirit ; and Dawvid flattered hmiself that he knew the precise attitude which, as a man in authority, it was becoming to assume in either case. Johnny simply turned in the other direction to attend to some triflin^^ affecting the temporary convenience of his stirk^ Nabal watch ; hooever, they gae far aboot that disna meet ae day— Fat can he mean cairnin on the tap-dressin' that that in ae crap, nor twa. Weel, it 11 pit the grun in gweed hert for somebody, ony In this mood had Dawvid Hadden begun his ^Hayin’ aff • ” m this mood he continued it. It has been already narrated how Dawvid paid a friendly visit to Clinkstyle, and what communmgs took place on tha<-