A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL

 by Ian Maclaren

CONTENTS:

A GENERAL PRACTITIONERTHROUGH THE FLOODA FIGHT WITH DEATHTHE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEYTHE MOURNING OF THE GLEN

ILLUSTRATIONS:

Dr. MacLureSandy Stewart "Napped" StonesThe Gudewife is Keepin' up a Ding-DongHis House--little more than a cottageWhirling Past in a Cloud of DustWill He Never Come?The Verra Look o' Him wes VictoryWeeping by Her Man's BedsideFor Such Risks of Life, Men Get the Victoria Cross in Other FieldsHopps' Laddie Ate GrosartsThere werna Mair than Four at NichtA' doot Yir Gaein' tae Lose Her, TammasThe Bonniest, Snoddest, Kindliest Lass in the GlenThe Winter Night was Falling FastComin' tae Meet Me in the Gloamin'It's oot o' the Question, Jess, sae Hurry upIt's a Fell Chairge for a Short Day's WorkThe East had Come to Meet the WestMacLure Explained that it would be an Eventful JourneyThey Passed through the Shallow Water without MishapA Heap of Speechless Misery by the Kitchen FireMa ain Dear ManI'm Proud to have Met YouGave Way UtterlyFillin' His Lungs for Five and Thirty Year wi' Strong Drumtochty AirBell Leant Over the BedA Large TubThe Lighted Window in Saunder's CottageA Clenched Fist Resting on the BedThe Doctor was Attempting the HighlandFlingSleepin' on the Top o' Her BedA' Prayed Last NichtI've a Cold in My Head To-nightJess Bolted without DelayComin' in Frae Glen UrtachDrumsheugh was Full of TactTold Drumsheugh that the Doctor was not Able to RiseWith the Old Warm GripDrumsheugh Looked WistfullyWud Gie Her a Bite o' GrassMa Mither's BibleIt's a Coorse Nicht, JessShe's Carryin' a Licht in Her HandThe Tochty Ran with Black, Swollen StreamToiled Across the GlenThere was Nae Use Trying tae Dig Oot the Front DoorAne of Them Gied Ower the Head in a Drift, and His Neeburs hed tae pu' Him ootTwo Men in Plaids were Descending the HillJined Hands and Cam ower FineTwa Horses, Ane afore the ItherHe had Left His Overcoat, and was in BlackDeath after All was VictorShe Began to NeighThey had Set to WorkStanding at the DoorFinis

PREFACE

It is with great good will that I write this short preface to theedition of "A Doctor of the Old School" (which has been illustrated byMr. Gordon after an admirable and understanding fashion) because thereare two things that I should like to say to my readers, being also myfriends. 

One, is to answer a question that has been often and fairly asked. Wasthere ever any doctor so self-forgetful and so utterly Christian asWilliam MacLure? To which I am proud to reply, on my conscience: Not oneman, but many in Scotland and in the South country. I will dare prophecyalso across the sea. 

It has been one man's good fortune to know four country doctors, not oneof whom was without his faults--Weelum was not perfect--but who, eachone, might have sat for my hero. Three are now resting from theirlabors, and the fourth, if he ever should see these lines, would neveridentify himself. 

Then I desire to thank my readers, and chiefly the medical professionfor the reception given to the Doctor of Drumtochty. 

For many years I have desired to pay some tribute to a class whoseservice to the community was known to every countryman, but after thetale had gone forth my heart failed. For it might have been despisedfor the little grace of letters in the style and because of the outwardroughness of the man. But neither his biographer nor his circumstanceshave been able to obscure MacLure who has himself won all honest hearts, and received afresh the recognition of his more distinguished brethren. From all parts of the English-speaking world letters have come incommendation of Weelum MacLure, and many were from doctors who hadreceived new courage. It is surely more honor than a new writer couldever have deserved to receive the approbation of a profession whosecharity puts us all to shame. 

May I take this first opportunity to declare how deeply my heart hasbeen touched by the favor shown to a simple book by the American people, and to express my hope that one day it may be given me to see you faceto face. 

IAN MACLAREN. Liverpool, Oct. 4, 1895. 

 A GENERAL PRACTITIONER. 

I

A GENERAL PRACTITIONER

Drumtochty was accustomed to break every law of health, except wholesomefood and fresh air, and yet had reduced the Psalmist's farthest limit toan average life-rate. Our men made no difference in their clothes forsummer or winter, Drumsheugh and one or two of the larger farmerscondescending to a topcoat on Sabbath, as a penalty of their position, and without regard to temperature. They wore their blacks at a funeral, refusing to cover them with anything, out of respect to the deceased, and standing longest in the kirkyard when the north wind was blowingacross a hundred miles of snow. If the rain was pouring at the Junction, then Drumtochty stood two minutes longer through sheer native dournesstill each man had a cascade from the tail of his coat, and hazarded thesuggestion, halfway to Kildrummie, that it had been "a bit scrowie, "a "scrowie" being as far short of a "shoor" as a "shoor" fell below"weet. "

[Illustration: SANDY STEWART "NAPPED" STONES]

This sustained defiance of the elements provoked occasional judgments inthe shape of a "hoast" (cough), and the head of the house was thenexhorted by his women folk to "change his feet" if he had happened towalk through a burn on his way home, and was pestered generally withsanitary precautions. It is right to add that the gudeman treated suchadvice with contempt, regarding it as suitable for the effeminacy oftowns, but not seriously intended for Drumtochty. Sandy Stewart "napped"stones on the road in his shirt sleeves, wet or fair, summer and winter, till he was persuaded to retire from active duty at eighty-five, and hespent ten years more in regretting his hastiness and criticising hissuccessor. The ordinary course of life, with fine air and contentedminds, was to do a full share of work till seventy, and then to lookafter "orra" jobs well into the eighties, and to "slip awa" within sightof ninety. Persons above ninety were understood to be acquittingthemselves with credit, and assumed airs of authority, brushing asidethe opinions of seventy as immature, and confirming their conclusionswith illustrations drawn from the end of last century. 

When Hillocks' brother so far forgot himself as to "slip awa"at sixty, that worthy man was scandalized, and offered labouredexplanations at the "beerial. "

"It's an awfu' business ony wy ye look at it, an' a sair trial tae usa'. A' never heard tell o' sic a thing in oor family afore, an' it's noeasy accoontin' for't. 

"The gudewife was sayin' he wes never the same sin' a weet nicht he losthimsel on the muir and slept below a bush; but that's neither here northere. A'm thinkin' he sappit his constitution thae twa years he wesgrieve aboot England. That wes thirty years syne, but ye're never thesame aifter thae foreign climates. "

Drumtochty listened patiently to Hillocks' apology, but was notsatisfied. 

"It's clean havers about the muir. Losh keep's, we've a' sleepit oot andnever been a hair the waur. 

"A' admit that England micht hae dune the job; it's no cannie stravagin'yon wy frae place tae place, but Drums never complained tae me if he hedbeen nippit in the Sooth. "

The parish had, in fact, lost confidence in Drums after his waywardexperiment with a potato-digging machine, which turned out a lamentablefailure, and his premature departure confirmed our vague impression ofhis character. 

"He's awa noo, " Drumsheugh summed up, after opinion had time to form;"an' there were waur fouk than Drums, but there's nae doot he was a weeflichty. "

When illness had the audacity to attack a Drumtochty man, it wasdescribed as a "whup, " and was treated by the men with a finenegligence. Hillocks was sitting in the post-office one afternoon whenI looked in for my letters, and the right side of his face was blazingred. His subject of discourse was the prospects of the turnip "breer, "but he casually explained that he was waiting for medical advice. 

"The gudewife is keepin' up a ding-dong frae mornin' till nicht aboot maface, and a'm fair deaved (deafened), so a'm watchin' for MacLure taeget a bottle as he comes wast; yon's him noo. "

The doctor made his diagnosis from horseback on sight, and stated theresult with that admirable clearness which endeared him to Drumtochty. 

"Confoond ye, Hillocks, what are ye ploiterin' aboot here for in theweet wi' a face like a boiled beet? Div ye no ken that ye've a titch o'the rose (erysipelas), and ocht tae be in the hoose? Gae hame wi' yeafore a' leave the bit, and send a haflin for some medicine. Ye donnerdidiot, are ye ettlin tae follow Drums afore yir time?" And the medicalattendant of Drumtochty continued his invective till Hillocks started, and still pursued his retreating figure with medical directions of asimple and practical character. 

[Illustration: "THE GUDEWIFE IS KEEPIN' UP A DING-DONG"]

"A'm watchin', an' peety ye if ye pit aff time. Keep yir bed themornin', and dinna show yir face in the fields till a' see ye. A'll gieye a cry on Monday--sic an auld fule--but there's no are o' them taemind anither in the hale pairish. "

Hillocks' wife informed the kirkyaird that the doctor "gied the gudemanan awfu' clear-in', " and that Hillocks "wes keepin' the hoose, " whichmeant that the patient had tea breakfast, and at that time was wanderingabout the farm buildings in an easy undress with his head in a plaid. 

It was impossible for a doctor to earn even the most modest competencefrom a people of such scandalous health, and so MacLure had annexedneighbouring parishes. His house--little more than a cottage--stood onthe roadside among the pines towards the head of our Glen, and from thisbase of operations he dominated the wild glen that broke the wall of theGrampians above Drumtochty--where the snow drifts were twelve feet deepin winter, and the only way of passage at times was the channel of theriver--and the moorland district westwards till he came to the Dunleithsphere of influence, where there were four doctors and a hydropathic. Drumtochty in its length, which was eight miles, and its breadth, whichwas four, lay in his hand; besides a glen behind, unknown to the world, which in the night time he visited at the risk of life, for the waythereto was across the big moor with its peat holes and treacherousbogs. And he held the land eastwards towards Muirtown so far as Geordie, the Drumtochty post, travelled every day, and could carry word that thedoctor was wanted. He did his best for the need of every man, woman andchild in this wild, straggling district, year in, year out, in the snowand in the heat, in the dark and in the light, without rest, and withoutholiday for forty years. 

One horse could not do the work of this man, but we liked best to seehim on his old white mare, who died the week after her master, and thepassing of the two did our hearts good. It was not that he rodebeautifully, for he broke every canon of art, flying with his arms, stooping till he seemed to be speaking into Jess's ears, and rising inthe saddle beyond all necessity. But he could rise faster, stay longerin the saddle, and had a firmer grip with his knees than any one I evermet, and it was all for mercy's sake. When the reapers in harvest timesaw a figure whirling past in a cloud of dust, or the family at the footof Glen Urtach, gathered round the fire on a winter's night, heard therattle of a horse's hoofs on the road, or the shepherds, out after thesheep, traced a black speck moving across the snow to the upper glen, they knew it was the doctor, and, without being conscious of it, wishedhim God speed. 

[Illustration]

Before and behind his saddle were strapped the instruments and medicinesthe doctor might want, for he never knew what was before him. There wereno specialists in Drumtochty, so this man had to do everything as besthe could, and as quickly. He was chest doctor and doctor for every otherorgan as well; he was accoucheur and surgeon; he was oculist and aurist;he was dentist and chloroformist, besides being chemist and druggist. It was often told how he was far up Glen Urtach when the feeders of thethreshing mill caught young Burnbrae, and how he only stopped to changehorses at his house, and galloped all the way to Burnbrae, and flunghimself off his horse and amputated the arm, and saved the lad's life. 

"You wud hae thocht that every meenut was an hour, " said Jamie Soutar, who had been at the threshing, "an' a'll never forget the puir lad lyingas white as deith on the floor o' the loft, wi' his head on a sheaf, an'Burnbrae haudin' the bandage ticht an' prayin' a' the while, and themither greetin' in the corner. 

"'Will he never come?' she cries, an' a' heard the soond o' the horse'sfeet on the road a mile awa in the frosty air. 

"'The Lord be praised!' said Burnbrae, and a' slippit doon the ladderas the doctor came skelpin' intae the close, the foam fleein' frae hishorse's mooth. 

"Whar is he?' wes a' that passed his lips, an' in five meenuts he hedhim on the feedin' board, and wes at his wark--sic wark, neeburs--but hedid it weel. An' ae thing a' thocht rael thochtfu' o' him: he first sentaff the laddie's mither tae get a bed ready. 

"Noo that's feenished, and his constitution 'ill dae the rest, " and hecarried the lad doon the ladder in his airms like a bairn, and laid himin his bed, and waits aside him till he wes sleepin', and then says he:'Burnbrae, yir gey lad never tae say 'Collie, will yelick?' for a' hevnatasted meat for saxteen hoors. '

"It was michty tae see him come intae the yaird that day, neeburs; theverra look o' him wes victory. "

[Illustration: "THE VERRA LOOK O' HIM WES VICTORY"]

Jamie's cynicism slipped off in the enthusiasm of this reminiscence, andhe expressed the feeling of Drumtochty. No one sent for MacLure save ingreat straits, and the sight of him put courage in sinking hearts. Butthis was not by the grace of his appearance, or the advantage of a goodbedside manner. A tall, gaunt, loosely made man, without an ounce ofsuperfluous flesh on his body, his face burned a dark brick color byconstant exposure to the weather, red hair and beard turning grey, honest blue eyes that look you ever in the face, huge hands with wristbones like the shank of a ham, and a voice that hurled his salutationsacross two fields, he suggested the moor rather than the drawing-room. But what a clever hand it was in an operation, as delicate as a woman's, and what a kindly voice it was in the humble room where the shepherd'swife was weeping by her man's bedside. He was "ill pitten the gither" tobegin with, but many of his physical defects were the penalties of hiswork, and endeared him to the Glen. That ugly scar that cut into hisright eyebrow and gave him such a sinister expression, was got one nightJess slipped on the ice and laid him insensible eight miles from home. His limp marked the big snowstorm in the fifties, when his horse missedthe road in Glen Urtach, and they rolled together in a drift. MacLureescaped with a broken leg and the fracture of three ribs, but he neverwalked like other men again. He could not swing himself into the saddlewithout making two attempts and holding Jess's mane. Neither can you"warstle" through the peat bogs and snow drifts for forty winterswithout a touch of rheumatism. But they were honorable scars, and forsuch risks of life men get the Victoria Cross in other fields. 

[Illustration: "FOR SUCH RISKS OF LIFE MEN GET THE VICTORIA CROSS INOTHER FIELDS"]

MacLure got nothing but the secret affection of the Glen, which knewthat none had ever done one-tenth as much for it as this ungainly, twisted, battered figure, and I have seen a Drumtochty facesoften at the sight of MacLure limping to his horse. 

Mr. Hopps earned the ill-will of the Glen for ever by criticisingthe doctor's dress, but indeed it would have filled any townsman withamazement. Black he wore once a year, on Sacrament Sunday, and, ifpossible, at a funeral; topcoat or waterproof never. His jacket andwaistcoat were rough homespun of Glen Urtach wool, which threw off thewet like a duck's back, and below he was clad in shepherd's tartantrousers, which disappeared into unpolished riding boots. His shirt wasgrey flannel, and he was uncertain about a collar, but certain as to atie which he never had, his beard doing instead, and his hat was softfelt of four colors and seven different shapes. His point of distinctionin dress was the trousers, and they were the subject of unendingspeculation. 

"Some threep that he's worn thae eedentical pair the last twenty year, an' a' mind masel him gettin' a tear ahint, when he was crossin' oorpalin', and the mend's still veesible. 

"Ithers declare 'at he's got a wab o' claith, and hes a new pair made inMuirtown aince in the twa year maybe, and keeps them in the garden tillthe new look wears aff. 

"For ma ain pairt, " Soutar used to declare, "a' canna mak up my mind, but there's ae thing sure, the Glen wud not like tae see him withootthem: it wud be a shock tae confidence. There's no muckle o' the checkleft, but ye can aye tell it, and when ye see thae breeks comin' in yeken that if human pooer can save yir bairn's life it 'ill be dune. "

The confidence of the Glen--and tributary states--was unbounded, andrested partly on long experience of the doctor's resources, and partlyon his hereditary connection. 

"His father was here afore him, " Mrs. Macfadyen used to explain; "atweenthem they've hed the countyside for weel on tae a century; if MacLuredisna understand oor constitution, wha dis, a' wud like tae ask?"

For Drumtochty had its own constitution and a special throat disease, asbecame a parish which was quite self-contained between the woods and thehills, and not dependent on the lowlands either for its diseases or itsdoctors. 

"He's a skilly man, Doctor MacLure, " continued my friend Mrs. Macfayden, whose judgment on sermons or anything else was seldom at fault; "an'a kind-hearted, though o' coorse he hes his faults like us a', an' hedisna tribble the Kirk often. 

"He aye can tell what's wrang wi' a body, an' maistly he can put yericht, and there's nae new-fangled wys wi' him: a blister for theootside an' Epsom salts for the inside dis his wark, an' they saythere's no an herb on the hills he disna ken. 

"If we're tae dee, we're tae dee; an' if we're tae live, we're tae live, "concluded Elspeth, with sound Calvinistic logic; "but a'll say thisfor the doctor, that whether yir tae live or dee, he can aye keep up asharp meisture on the skin. "

"But he's no veera ceevil gin ye bring him when there's naethin' wrang, "and Mrs. Macfayden's face reflected another of Mr. Hopps' misadventuresof which Hillocks held the copyright. 

"Hopps' laddie ate grosarts (gooseberries) till they hed to sit up a'nicht wi' him, an' naethin' wud do but they maun hae the doctor, an' hewrites 'immediately' on a slip o' paper. 

"Weel, MacLure had been awa a' nicht wi' a shepherd's wife Dunleith wy, and he comes here withoot drawin' bridle, mud up tae the cen. 

"'What's a dae here, Hillocks?" he cries; 'it's no an accident, is't?'and when he got aff his horse he cud hardly stand wi' stiffness andtire. 

"'It's nane o' us, doctor; it's Hopps' laddie; he's been eatin' owermony berries. '

[Illustration: "HOPPS' LADDIE ATE GROSARTS"]

"If he didna turn on me like a tiger. 

"Div ye mean tae say----'

"'Weesht, weesht, ' an' I tried tae quiet him, for Hopps wes comin' oot. 

"'Well, doctor, ' begins he, as brisk as a magpie, 'you're here at last;there's no hurry with you Scotchmen. My boy has been sick all night, andI've never had one wink of sleep. You might have come a little quicker, that's all I've got to say. '

"We've mair tae dae in Drumtochty than attend tae every bairn that hes asair stomach, ' and a' saw MacLure wes roosed. 

"'I'm astonished to hear you speak. Our doctor at home always says toMrs. 'Opps "Look on me as a family friend, Mrs. 'Opps, and send for methough it be only a headache. "'

"'He'd be mair sparin' o' his offers if he hed four and twenty mile taelook aifter. There's naethin' wrang wi' yir laddie but greed. Gie him agude dose o' castor oil and stop his meat for a day, an' he 'ill be a'richt the morn. '

"'He 'ill not take castor oil, doctor. We have given up those barbarousmedicines. '

"'Whatna kind o' medicines hae ye noo in the Sooth?'

"'Well, you see, Dr. MacLure, we're homoeopathists, and I've my littlechest here, ' and oot Hopps comes wi' his boxy. 

"'Let's see't, ' an' MacLure sits doon and taks oot the bit bottles, andhe reads the names wi' a lauch every time. 

"'Belladonna; did ye ever hear the like? Aconite; it cowes a'. NuxVomica. What next? Weel, ma mannie, ' he says tae Hopps, 'it's a fineploy, and ye 'ill better gang on wi' the Nux till it's dune, and gie himony ither o' the sweeties he fancies. 

"'Noo, Hillocks, a' maun be aff tae see Drumsheugh's grieve, for he'sdoon wi' the fever, and it's tae be a teuch fecht. A' hinna time taewait for dinner; gie me some cheese an' cake in ma haund, and Jess 'illtak a pail o' meal an' water. 

"'Fee; a'm no wantin' yir fees, man; wi' that boxy ye dinna need adoctor; na, na, gie yir siller tae some puir body, Maister Hopps, ' an'he was doon the road as hard as he cud lick. "

His fees were pretty much what the folk chose to give him, and hecollected them once a year at Kildrummie fair. 

"Well, doctor, what am a' awin' ye for the wife and bairn? Ye 'ill needthree notes for that nicht ye stayed in the hoose an' a' the veesits. "

"Havers, " MacLure would answer, "prices are low, a'm hearing; gie'sthirty shillings. "

"No, a'll no, or the wife 'ill tak ma ears off, " and it was settled fortwo pounds. Lord Kilspindie gave him a free house and fields, and oneway or other, Drumsheugh told me, the doctor might get in about L150. A year, out of which he had to pay his old housekeeper's wages and aboy's, and keep two horses, besides the cost of instruments and books, which he bought through a friend in Edinburgh with much judgment. 

There was only one man who ever complained of the doctor's charges, andthat was the new farmer of Milton, who was so good that he was aboveboth churches, and held a meeting in his barn. (It was Milton the Glensupposed at first to be a Mormon, but I can't go into that now. ) Heoffered MacLure a pound less than he asked, and two tracts, whereuponMacLure expressed his opinion of Milton, both from a theological andsocial standpoint, with such vigor and frankness that an attentiveaudience of Drumtochty men could hardly contain themselves. Jamie Soutarwas selling his pig at the time, and missed the meeting, but he hastenedto condole with Milton, who was complaining everywhere of the doctor'slanguage. 

[Illustration]

"Ye did richt tae resist him; it 'ill maybe roose the Glen tae mak astand; he fair hands them in bondage. 

"Thirty shillings for twal veesits, and him no mair than seeven mileawa, an' a'm telt there werena mair than four at nicht. 

"Ye 'ill hae the sympathy o' the Glen, for a' body kens yir as free wi'yir siller as yir tracts. 

"Wes't 'Beware o' gude warks' ye offered him? Man, ye choose it weel, for he's been colleckin' sae mony thae forty years, a'm feared for him. 

"A've often thocht oor doctor's little better than the Gude Samaritan, an' the Pharisees didna think muckle o' his chance aither in this warldor that which is tae come. "

 THROUGH THE FLOOD. 

II

THROUGH THE FLOOD

Doctor MacLure did not lead a solemn procession from the sick bed tothe dining-room, and give his opinion from the hearthrug with an air ofwisdom bordering on the supernatural, because neither the Drumtochtyhouses nor his manners were on that large scale. He was accustomed todeliver himself in the yard, and to conclude his directions with onefoot in the stirrup; but when he left the room where the life of AnnieMitchell was ebbing slowly away, our doctor said not one word, and atthe sight of his face her husband's heart was troubled. 

He was a dull man, Tammas, who could not read the meaning of a sign, andlabored under a perpetual disability of speech; but love was eyes to himthat day, and a mouth. 

"Is't as bad as yir lookin', doctor? tell's the truth; wull Annie nocome through?" and Tammas looked MacLure straight in the face, who neverflinched his duty or said smooth things. 

"A' wud gie onything tae say Annie hes a chance, but a' daurna; a' dootyir gaein' tae lose her, Tammas. "

MacLure was in the saddle, and as he gave his judgment, he laid his handon Tammas's shoulder with one of the rare caresses that pass betweenmen. 

[Illustration: A' DOOT YIR GAEIN' TAE LOSE HER, TAMMAS. "]

"It's a sair business, but ye 'ill play the man and no vex Annie;she 'ill dae her best, a'll warrant. "

"An' a'll dae mine, " and Tammas gave MacLure's hand a grip that wouldhave crushed the bones of a weakling. Drumtochty felt in such momentsthe brotherliness of this rough-looking man, and loved him. 

Tammas hid his face in Jess's mane, who looked round with sorrow in herbeautiful eyes, for she had seen many tragedies, and in this silentsympathy the stricken man drank his cup, drop by drop. 

"A' wesna prepared for this, for a' aye thocht she wud live thelangest. .. . She's younger than me by ten years, and never wes ill. .. . We've been mairit twal year laist Martinmas, but it's juist like a yearthe day. .. A' wes never worthy o' her, the bonniest, snoddest (neatest), kindliest lass in the Glen. .. . A' never cud mak oot hoo she ever lookitat me, 'at hesna hed ae word tae say aboot her till it's ower late. .. . She didna cuist up tae me that a' wesna worthy o' her, no her, but ayeshe said, 'Yir ma ain gudeman, and nane cud be kinder tae me. ' . .. An'a' wes minded tae be kind, but a' see noo mony little trokes a' michthae dune for her, and noo the time is bye. .. . Naebody kens hoo patientshe wes wi' me, and aye made the best o 'me, an' never pit me tae shameafore the fouk. .. . An' we never hed ae cross word, no ane in twalyear. .. . We were mair nor man and wife, we were sweethearts a' thetime. .. . Oh, ma bonnie lass, what 'ill the bairnies an' me dae withootye, Annie?"

[Illustration: "THE BONNIEST, SNODDEST, KINDLIEST LASS IN THE GLEN" ]

The winter night was falling fast, the snow lay deep upon the ground, and the merciless north wind moaned through the close as Tammas wrestledwith his sorrow dry-eyed, for tears were denied Drumtochty men. Neitherthe doctor nor Jess moved hand or foot, but their hearts were withtheir fellow creature, and at length the doctor made a sign to MargetHowe, who had come out in search of Tammas, and now stood by his side. 

[Illustration]

"Dinna mourn tae the brakin' o' yir hert, Tammas, " she said, "as ifAnnie an' you hed never luved. Neither death nor time can pairt themthat luve; there's naethin' in a' the warld sae strong as luve. If Anniegaes frae the sichot' yir een she 'ill come the nearer tae yir hert. She wants tae see ye, and tae hear ye say that ye 'ill never forget hernicht nor day till ye meet in the land where there's nae pairtin'. Oh, a' ken what a'm saying', for it's five year noo sin George gied awa, an' he's mair wi' me noo than when he wes in Edinboro' and I was inDrumtochty. "

[Illustration]

"Thank ye kindly, Marget; thae are gude words and true, an' ye hev thericht tae say them; but a' canna dae without seem' Annie comin' tae meetme in the gloamin', an' gaein' in an' oot the hoose, an' hearin' her ca'me by ma name, an' a'll no can tell her that a'luve her when there's naeAnnie in the hoose. 

"Can naethin' be dune, doctor? Ye savit Flora Cammil, and youngBurnbrae, an' yon shepherd's wife Dunleith wy, an' we were a sae proodo' ye, an' pleased tae think that ye hed keepit deith frae anither hame. Can ye no think o' somethin' tae help Annie, and gie her back tae herman and bairnies?" and Tammas searched the doctor's face in the cold, weird light. 

"There's nae pooer on heaven or airth like luve, " Marget said to meafterwards; "it maks the weak strong and the dumb tae speak. Oor hertswere as water afore Tammas's words, an' a' saw the doctor shake in hissaddle. A' never kent till that meenut hoo he hed a share in a'body'sgrief, an' carried the heaviest wecht o' a' the Glen. A' peetied him wi'Tammas lookin' at him sae wistfully, as if he hed the keys o' life an'deith in his hands. But he wes honest, and wudna hold oot a false houptae deceive a sore hert or win escape for himsel'. "

"Ye needna plead wi' me, Tammas, to dae the best a' can for yir wife. Man, a' kent her lang afore ye ever luved her; a' brocht her intae thewarld, and a' saw her through the fever when she wes a bit lassikie;a' closed her mither's een, and it was me hed tae tell her she wes anorphan, an' nae man wes better pleased when she got a gude husband, anda' helpit her wi' her fower bairns. A've naither wife nor bairns o' maown, an' a' coont a' the fouk o' the Glen ma family. Div ye think a'wudna save Annie if I cud? If there wes a man in Muirtown 'at cud daemair for her, a'd have him this verra nicht, but a' the doctors inPerthshire are helpless for this tribble. 

"Tammas, ma puir fallow, if it could avail, a' tell ye a' wud lay doonthis auld worn-oot ruckle o' a body o' mine juist tae see ye baithsittin' at the fireside, an' the bairns roond ye, couthy an' cantyagain; but it's no tae be, Tammas, it's no tae be. "

"When a' lookit at the doctor's face, " Marget said, "a' thocht him thewinsomest man a' ever saw. He was transfigured that nicht, for a'mjudging there's nae transfiguration like luve. "

"It's God's wull an' maun be borne, but it's a sair wull for me, an' a'mno ungratefu' tae you, doctor, for a' ye've dune and what ye said thenicht, " and Tammas went back to sit with Annie for the last time. 

Jess picked her way through the deep snow to the main road, with a skillthat came of long experience, and the doctor held converse with heraccording to his wont. 

"Eh, Jess wumman, yon wes the hardest wark a' hae tae face, and a' wudraither hae ta'en ma chance o' anither row in a Glen Urtach drift thantell Tammas Mitchell his wife wes deein'. 

"A' said she cudna be cured, and it wes true, for there's juist ae manin the land fit for't, and they micht as weel try tae get the mune ooto' heaven. Sae a' said naethin' tae vex Tammas's hert, for it's heavyeneuch withoot regrets. 

"But it's hard, Jess, that money wull buy life after a', an' if Anniewes a duchess her man wudna lose her; but bein' only a puir cottar'swife, she maun dee afore the week's oot. 

"Gin we hed him the morn there's little doot she would be saved, for hehesna lost mair than five per cent, o' his cases, and they 'ill be puirtoon's craturs, no strappin women like Annie. 

[Illustration: "IT'S OOT O' THE QUESTION, JESS, SAE HURRY UP"]

"It's oot o' the question, Jess, sae hurry up, lass, for we've hed aheavy day. But it wud be the grandest thing that was ever dune in theGlen in oor time if it could be managed by hook or crook. 

"We 'ill gang and see Drumsheugh, Jess; he's anither man sin' GeordieHoo's deith, and he wes aye kinder than fouk kent;" and the doctorpassed at a gallop through the village, whose lights shone across thewhite frost-bound road. 

"Come in by, doctor; a' heard ye on the road; ye 'ill hae been at TammasMitchell's; hoo's the gudewife? a' doot she's sober. "

"Annie's deein', Drumsheugh, an' Tammas is like tae brak his hert. "

"That's no lichtsome, doctor, no lichtsome ava, for a' dinna ken onyman in Drumtochty sae bund up in his wife as Tammas, and there's noa bonnier wumman o' her age crosses our kirk door than Annie, nor acleverer at her wark. Man, ye 'ill need tae pit yir brains in steep. Isshe clean beyond ye?"

"Beyond me and every ither in the land but ane, and it wud cost ahundred guineas tae bring him tae Drumtochty. "

[Illustration: ]

"Certes, he's no blate; it's a fell chairge for a short day's work; buthundred or no hundred we'll hae him, an' no let Annie gang, and her nohalf her years. "

"Are ye meanin' it, Drumsheugh?" and MacLure turned white below the tan. "William MacLure, " said Drumsheugh, in one of the few confidences thatever broke the Drumtochty reserve, "a'm a lonely man, wi' naebody o' maain blude tae care for me livin', or tae lift me intae ma coffin whena'm deid. 

"A' fecht awa at Muirtown market for an extra pound on a beast, or ashillin' on the quarter o' barley, an' what's the gude o't? Burnbraegaes aff tae get a goon for his wife or a buke for his college laddie, an' Lachlan Campbell 'ill no leave the place noo without a ribbon forFlora. 

"Ilka man in the Klldrummie train has some bit fairin' his pooch for thefouk at hame that he's bocht wi' the siller he won. 

"But there's naebody tae be lookin' oot for me, an' comin' doon the roadtae meet me, and daffin' (joking) wi' me about their fairing, or feelingma pockets. Ou ay, a've seen it a' at ither hooses, though they triedtae hide it frae me for fear a' wud lauch at them. Me lauch, wi' macauld, empty hame!

"Yir the only man kens, Weelum, that I aince luved the noblest wumman inthe glen or onywhere, an' a' luve her still, but wi' anither luve noo. 

"She had given her heart tae anither, or a've thocht a' micht haewon her, though nae man be worthy o' sic a gift. Ma hert turned taebitterness, but that passed awa beside the brier bush whar George Hoolay yon sad simmer time. Some day a'll tell ye ma story, Weelum, for youan' me are auld freends, and will be till we dee. "

MacLure felt beneath the table for Drumsheugh's hand, but neither manlooked at the other. 

"Weel, a' we can dae noo, Weelum, gin we haena mickle brichtness in oorain names, is tae keep the licht frae gaein' oot in anither hoose. Writethe telegram, man, and Sandy 'ill send it aff frae Kildrummie thisverra nicht, and ye 'ill hae yir man the morn. "

[Illustration: "THE EAST HAD COME TO MEET THE WEST"]

"Yir the man a' coonted ye, Drumsheugh, but ye 'ill grant me ae favor. Ye 'ill lat me pay the half, bit by bit--a' ken yir wullin' tae dae'ta'--but a' haena mony pleasures, an' a' wud like tae hae ma ain share insavin' Annie's life. "

Next morning a figure received Sir George on the Kildrummie platform, whom that famous surgeon took for a gillie, but who introduced himselfas "MacLure of Drumtochty. " It seemed as if the East had come to meetthe West when these two stood together, the one in travelling furs, handsome and distinguished, with his strong, cultured face and carriageof authority, a characteristic type of his profession; and the othermore marvellously dressed than ever, for Drumsheugh's topcoat had beenforced upon him for the occasion, his face and neck one redness with thebitter cold; rough and ungainly, yet not without some signs of power inhis eye and voice, the most heroic type of his noble profession. MacLurecompassed the precious arrival with observances till he was securelyseated in Drumsheugh's dog cart--a vehicle that lent itself tohistory--with two full-sized plaids added to his equipment--Drumsheughand Hillocks had both been requisitioned--and MacLure wrapped anotherplaid round a leather case, which was placed below the seat with suchreverence as might be given to the Queen's regalia. Peter attended theirdeparture full of interest, and as soon as they were in the fir woodsMacLure explained that it would be an eventful journey. 

"It's a richt in here, for the wind disna get at the snaw, but thedrifts are deep in the Glen, and th'ill be some engineerin' afore we gettae oor destination. "

Four times they left the road and took their way over fields, twice theyforced a passage through a slap in a dyke, thrice they used gaps in thepaling which MacLure had made on his downward journey. 

[Illustration]

"A' seleckit the road this mornin', an' a' ken the depth tae an inch; we'ill get through this steadin' here tae the main road, but oor worst job'ill be crossin' the Tochty. 

"Ye see the bridge hes been shaken wi' this winter's flood, and wedaurna venture on it, sae we hev tae ford, and the snaw's beenmelting up Urtach way. There's nae doot the water's gey big, and it'sthreatenin' tae rise, but we 'ill win through wi' a warstle. 

"It micht be safer tae lift the instruments oot o' reach o' the water;wud ye mind haddin' them on yir knee till we're ower, an' keep firm inyir seat in case we come on a stane in the bed o' the river. "

By this time they had come to the edge, and it was not a cheering sight. The Tochty had spread out over the meadows, and while they waited theycould see it cover another two inches on the trunk of a tree. There aresummer floods, when the water is brown and flecked with foam, but thiswas a winter flood, which is black and sullen, and runs in the centrewith a strong, fierce, silent current. Upon the opposite sideHillocks stood to give directions by word and hand, as the ford wason his land, and none knew the Tochty better in all its ways. 

[Illustration: "THEY PASSED THROUGH THE SHALLOW WATER WITHOUT MISHAP"]

They passed through the shallow water without mishap, save when thewheel struck a hidden stone or fell suddenly into a rut; but when theyneared the body of the river MacLure halted, to give Jess a minute'sbreathing. 

"It 'ill tak ye a' yir time, lass, an' a' wud raither be on yir back;but ye never failed me yet, and a wumman's life is hangin' on thecrossin'. "

With the first plunge into the bed of the stream the water rose to theaxles, and then it crept up to the shafts, so that the surgeon couldfeel it lapping in about his feet, while the dogcart began to quiver, and it seemed as if it were to be carried away. Sir George was as braveas most men, but he had never forded a Highland river in flood, and themass of black water racing past beneath, before, behind him, affectedhis imagination and shook his nerves. He rose from his seat and orderedMacLure to turn back, declaring that he would be condemned utterly andeternally if he allowed himself to be drowned for any person. 

"Sit doon, " thundered MacLure; "condemned ye will be suner or later ginye shirk yir duty, but through the water ye gang the day. "

Both men spoke much more strongly and shortly, but this is what theyintended to say, and it was MacLure that prevailed. 

Jess trailed her feet along the ground with cunning art, and held hershoulder against the stream; MacLure leant forward in his seat, a reinin each hand, and his eyes fixed on Hillocks, who was now standing up tothe waist in the water, shouting directions and cheering on horse anddriver. 

"Haud tae the richt, doctor; there's a hole yonder. Keep oot o't for onysake. "

[Illustration: "A HEAP OF SPEECHLESS MISERY BY THE KITCHEN FIRE. "]

That's heap of speechless misery by the kitchen fire, and carriedhim off to the barn, and spread some corn on the threshing floor andthrust a flail into his hands. 

"Noo we've tae begin, an' we 'ill no be dune for an' oor, and ye've taelay on withoot stoppin' till a' come for ye, an' a'll shut the door taehaud in the noise, an' keep yir dog beside ye, for there maunna be acheep aboot the hoose for Annie's sake. "

"A'll dae onything ye want me, but if--if--"

"A'll come for ye, Tammas, gin there be danger; but what are ye fearedfor wi' the Queen's ain surgeon here?"

Fifty minutes did the flail rise and fall, save twice, when Tammas creptto the door and listened, the dog lifting his head and whining. 

It seemed twelve hours instead of one when the door swung back, andMacLure filled the doorway, preceded by a great burst of light, for thesun had arisen on the snow. 

[Illustration: "MA AIN DEAR MAN"]

His face was as tidings of great joy, and Elspeth told me that there wasnothing like it to be seen that afternoon for glory, save the sun itselfin the heavens. 

"A' never saw the marrow o't, Tammas, an' a'll never see the like again;it's a' ower, man, withoot a hitch frae beginnin' tae end, and she'sfa'in' asleep as fine as ye like. "

"Dis he think Annie . .. 'ill live?"

"Of coorse he dis, and be aboot the hoose inside a month; that's the gudo' bein' a clean-bluided, weel-livin'----"

"Preserve ye, man, what's wrang wi' ye? it's a mercy a' keppit ye, or wewud hev hed anither job for Sir George. 

"Ye're a richt noo; sit doon on the strae. A'll come back in a whilie, an' ye i'll see Annie juist for a meenut, but ye maunna say a word. "Marget took him in and let him kneel by Annie's bedside. 

He said nothing then or afterwards, for speech came only once in hislifetime to Tammas, but Annie whispered, "Ma ain dear man. "

When the doctor placed the precious bag beside Sir George in oursolitary first next morning, he laid a cheque beside it and was about toleave. 

"No, no, " said the great man. "Mrs. Macfayden and I were on the gossiplast night, and I know the whole story about you and your friend. 

"You have some right to call me a coward, but I'll never let you countme a mean, miserly rascal, " and the cheque with Drumsheugh's painfulwriting fell in fifty pieces on the floor. 

[Illustration: "I'M PROUD TO HAVE MET YOU"]

As the train began to move, a voice from the first called so that allthe station heard. "Give's another shake of your hand, MacLure; I'mproud to have met you; you are an honor to our profession. Mind theantiseptic dressings. "

It was market day, but only Jamie Soutar and Hillocks had ventured down. 

"Did ye hear yon, Hillocks? hoo dae ye feel? A'll no deny a'm lifted. "

Halfway to the Junction Hillocks had recovered, and began to grasp thesituation. 

"Tell's what he said. A' wud like to hae it exact for Drumsheugh. "

"Thae's the eedentical words, an' they're true; there's no a man inDrumtochty disna ken that, except ane. "

"An' wha's thar, Jamie?"

"It's Weelum MacLure himsel. Man, a've often girned that he sud fechtawa for us a', and maybe dee before he kent that he hed githered mairluve than ony man in the Glen. 

"'A'm prood tae hae met ye', says Sir George, an' him the greatestdoctor in the land. 'Yir an honor tae oor profession. '

"Hillocks, a' wudna hae missed it for twenty notes, " said James Soutar, cynic-in-ordinary to the parish of Drumtochty. 

 A FIGHT WITH DEATH. 

III

A FIGHT WITH DEATH

When Drumsheugh's grieve was brought to the gates of death by fever, caught, as was supposed, on an adventurous visit to Glasgow, the Londondoctor at Lord Kilspindie's shooting lodge looked in on his way from themoor, and declared it impossible for Saunders to live through the night. 

"I give him six hours, more or less; it is only a question of time, "said the oracle, buttoning his gloves and getting into the brake;"tell your parish doctor that I was sorry not to have met him. "

Bell heard this verdict from behind the door, and gave way utterly, but Drumsheugh declined to accept it as final, and devoted himself toconsolation. 

"Dinna greet like that, Bell wumman, sae lang as Saunders is stillliving'; a'll never give up houp, for ma pairt, till oor ain man saysthe word. 

"A' the doctors in the land dinna ken as muckle aboot us as WeelumMacLure, an' he's ill tae beat when he's trying tae save a man's life. "

MacLure, on his coming, would say nothing, either weal or woe, till hehad examined Saunders. Suddenly his face turned into iron before theireyes, and he looked like one encountering a merciless foe. For there wasa feud between MacLure and a certain mighty power which had lasted forforty years in Drumtochty. 

[Illustration: "GAVE WAY UTTERLY"]

"The London doctor said that Saunders wud sough awa afore mornin', didhe? Weel, he's an authority on fevers an' sic like diseases, an' oughttae ken. 

"It's may be presumptous o' me tae differ frae him, and it wudna beverra respectfu' o' Saunders tae live aifter this opeenion. But Saunderswes awe thraun an' ill tae drive, an' he's as like as no tae gang hisown gait. 

"A'm no meanin' tae reflect on sae clever a man, but he didna ken theseetuation. He can read fevers like a buik, but he never cam across sica thing as the Drumtochty constitution a' his days. 

"Ye see, when onybody gets as low as puir Saunders here, it's juista hand to hand wrastle atween the fever and his constitution, an' ofcoorse, if he had been a shilpit, stuntit, feckless effeegy o' a cratur, fed on tea an' made dishes and pushioned wi' bad air, Saunders wud haenae chance; he wes boond tae gae oot like the snuff o' a candle. 

[Illustration]

"But Saunders hes been fillin' his lungs for five and thirty year wi'strong Drumtochty air, an' eatin' naethin' but kirny aitmeal, anddrinkin' naethin' but fresh milk frae the coo, an' followin' the ploothrough the new-turned sweet-smellin' earth, an' swingin' the scythe inhaytime and harvest, till the legs an' airms o' him were iron, an' hischest wes like the cuttin' o' an oak tree. 

"He's a waesome sicht the nicht, but Saunders wes a buirdly man aince, and wull never lat his life be taken lichtly frae him. Na, na, he hesnasinned against Nature, and Nature 'ill stand by him noo in his oor o'distress. 

"A' daurna say yea, Bell, muckle as a' wud like, for this is an evildisease, cunnin, an' treacherous as the deevil himsel', but a' winna saynay, sae keep yir hert frae despair. 

"It wull be a sair fecht, but it 'ill be settled one wy or anither bysax o'clock the morn's morn. Nae man can prophecee hoo it 'ill end, butae thing is certain, a'll no see deith tak a Drumtochty man afore histime if a' can help it. 

"Noo, Bell ma wumman, yir near deid wi' tire, an' nae wonder. Ye've dunea' ye cud for yir man, an' ye'll lippen (trust) him the nicht taeDrumsheugh an' me; we 'ill no fail him or you. 

"Lie doon an' rest, an' if it be the wull o' the Almichty a'll wauken yein the mornin' tae see a livin' conscious man, an' if it be ither-wisea'll come for ye the suner, Bell, " and the big red hand went out to theanxious wife. "A' gie ye ma word. "

Bell leant over the bed, and at the sight of Saunders' face asuperstitious dread seized her. 

"See, doctor, the shadow of deith is on him that never lifts. A've seenit afore, on ma father an' mither. A' canna leave him, a' canna leavehim. "

[Illustration: "BELL LEANT OVER THE BED"]

"It's hoverin', Bell, but it hesna fallen; please God it never wull. Gang but and get some sleep, for it's time we were at oor work. 

"The doctors in the toons hae nurses an' a' kinds o' handy apparatus, "said MacLure to Drumsheugh when Bell had gone, "but you an' me 'ill needtae be nurse the nicht, an' use sic things as we hev. 

"It 'ill be a lang nicht and anxious wark, but a' wud raither hae ye, auld freend, wi' me than ony man in the Glen. Ye're no feared tae gie ahand?"

"Me feared? No, likely. Man, Saunders cam tae me a haflin, and hes beenon Drumsheugh for twenty years, an' though he be a dour chiel, he's afaithfu' servant as ever lived. It's waesome tae see him lyin' theremoanin' like some dumb animal frae mornin' tae nicht, an' no able taeanswer his ain wife when she speaks. 

"Div ye think, Weelum, he hes a chance?"

"That he hes, at ony rate, and it 'ill no be your blame or mine if hehesna mair. "

While he was speaking, MacLure took off his coat and waistcoat and hungthem on the back of the door. Then he rolled up the sleeves of his shirtand laid bare two arms that were nothing but bone and muscle. 

"It gar'd ma very blood rin faster tae the end of ma fingers juist taelook at him, " Drumsheugh expatiated afterwards to Hillocks, "for a' sawnoo that there was tae be a stand-up fecht atween him an' deith forSaunders, and when a' thocht o' Bell an' her bairns, a' kent wha wudwin. 

"'Aff wi' yir coat, Drumsheugh, ' said MacLure; 'ye 'ill need tae bendyir back the nicht; gither a' the pails in the hoose and fill them atthe spring, an' a'll come doon tae help ye wi' the carryin'. '"

It was a wonderful ascent up the steep pathway from the spring to thecottage on its little knoll, the two men in single file, bareheaded, silent, solemn, each with a pail of water in either hand, MacLurelimping painfully in front, Drumsheugh blowing behind; and when theylaid down their burden in the sick room, where the bits of furniture hadbeen put to a side and a large tub held the centre, Drumsheugh lookedcuriously at the doctor. 

[Illustration. ]

"No, a'm no daft; ye needna be feared; but yir tae get yir first lessonin medicine the nicht, an' if we win the battle ye can set up for yerselin the Glen. 

"There's twa dangers--that Saunders' strength fails, an' that the forceo' the fever grows; and we have juist twa weapons. 

"Yon milk on the drawers' head an' the bottle of whisky is tae keep upthe strength, and this cool caller water is tae keep doon the fever. 

"We 'ill cast oot the fever by the virtue o' the earth an' the water. "

"Div ye mean tae pit Saunders in the tub?"

"Ye hiv it noo, Drumsheugh, and that's hoo a' need yir help. "

"Man, Hillocks, " Drumsheugh used to moralize, as often as he rememberedthat critical night, "it wes humblin' tae see hoo low sickness can bringa pooerfu' man, an' ocht tae keep us frae pride. "

"A month syne there wesna a stronger man in the Glen than Saunders, an'noo he wes juist a bundle o' skin and bone, that naither saw nor heard, nor moved nor felt, that kent naethin' that was dune tae him. 

"Hillocks, a' wudna hae wished ony man tae hev seen Saunders--for itwull never pass frae before ma een as long as a' live--but a' wish a'the Glen hed stude by MacLure kneelin' on the floor wi' his sleeves uptae his oxters and waitin' on Saunders. 

"Yon big man wes as pitifu' an' gentle as a wumman, and when he laid thepuir fallow in his bed again, he happit him ower as a mither dis herbairn. "

Thrice it was done, Drumsheugh ever bringing up colder water from thespring, and twice MacLure was silent; but after the third time there wasa gleam in his eye. 

"We're haudin' oor ain; we're no bein' maistered, at ony rate; mair a'canna say for three oors. 

"We 'ill no need the water again, Drumsheugh; gae oot and tak a breatho' air; a'm on gaird masel. "

It was the hour before daybreak, and Drumsheugh wandered through fieldshe had trodden since childhood. The cattle lay sleeping in the pastures;their shadowy forms, with a patch of whiteness here and there, having aweird suggestion of death. He heard the burn running over the stones;fifty years ago he had made a dam that lasted till winter. The hootingof an owl made him start; one had frightened him as a boy so that he ranhome to his mother--she died thirty years ago. The smell of ripe cornfilled the air; it would soon be cut and garnered. He could see the dimoutlines of his house, all dark and cold; no one he loved was beneaththe roof. The lighted window in Saunders' cottage told where a man hungbetween life and death, but love was in that home. The futility of lifearose before this lonely man, and overcame his heart with anindescribable sadness. What a vanity was all human labour, what amystery all human life. 

[Illustration]

But while he stood, subtle change came over the night, and the airtrembled round him as if one had whispered. Drumsheugh lifted his headand looked eastwards. A faint grey stole over the distant horizon, andsuddenly a cloud reddened before his eyes. The sun was not in sight, butwas rising, and sending forerunners before his face. The cattle beganto stir, a blackbird burst into song, and before Drumsheugh crossed thethreshold of Saunders' house, the first ray of the sun had broken on apeak of the Grampians. 

MacLure left the bedside, and as the light of the candle fell onthe doctor's face, Drumsheugh could see that it was going well withSaunders. 

"He's nae waur; an' it's half six noo; it's ower sune tae say mair, buta'm houpin' for the best. Sit doon and take a sleep, for ye're needin''t, Drumsheugh, an', man, ye hae worked for it. "

As he dozed off, the last thing Drumsheugh saw was the doctor sittingerect in his chair, a clenched fist resting on the bed, and his eyesalready bright with the vision of victory. 

He awoke with a start to find the room flooded with the morningsunshine, and every trace of last night's work removed. 

The doctor was bending over the bed, and speaking to Saunders. 

"It's me, Saunders, Doctor MacLure, ye ken; dinna try tae speak or move;juist let this drap milk slip ower--ye 'ill be needin' yir breakfast, lad--and gang tae sleep again. "

[Illustration: "A CLENCHED FIST RESTING ON THE BED"]

Five minutes, and Saunders had fallen into a deep, healthy sleep, alltossing and moaning come to an end. Then MacLure stepped softly acrossthe floor, picked up his coat and waistcoat, and went out at the door. Drumsheugh arose and followed him without a word. They passed throughthe little garden, sparkling with dew, and beside the byre, where Hawkierattled her chain, impatient for Bell's coming, and by Saunders' littlestrip of corn ready for the scythe, till they reached an open field. There they came to a halt, and Doctor MacLure for once allowed himselfto go. 

His coat he flung east and his waistcoat west, as far as he could hurlthem, and it was plain he would have shouted had he been a complete milefrom Saunders' room. Any less distance was useless for the adequateexpression. He struck Drumsheugh a mighty blow that well-nigh levelledthat substantial man in the dust and then the doctor of Drumtochtyissued his bulletin. 

"Saunders wesna tae live through the nicht, but he's livin' this meenut, an' like to live. 

"He's got by the warst clean and fair, and wi' him that's as good ascure. 

"It' ill be a graund waukenin' for Bell; she 'ill no be a weedow yet, nor the bairnies fatherless. 

"There's nae use glowerin' at me, Drumsheugh, for a body's daft at atime, an' a' canna contain masel' and a'm no gaein' tae try. "

Then it dawned on Drumsheugh that the doctor was attempting the Highlandfling. 

"He's 'ill made tae begin wi', " Drumsheugh explained in the kirkyardnext Sabbath, "and ye ken he's been terrible mishannelled by accidents, sae ye may think what like it wes, but, as sure as deith, o' a' theHielan flings a' ever saw yon wes the bonniest. 

"A' hevna shaken ma ain legs for thirty years, but a' confess tae a turnmasel. Ye may lauch an' ye like, neeburs, but the thocht o' Bell an'the news that wes waitin' her got the better o' me. "

"THE DOCTOR WAS ATTEMPTING THE HIGHLAND FLING"

Drumtochty did not laugh. Drumtochty looked as if it could have donequite otherwise for joy. 

"A' wud hae made a third gin a bed been there, " announced Hillocks, aggressively. 

[Illustration]

"Come on, Drumsheugh, " said Jamie Soutar, "gie's the end o't; it wes amichty mornin'. "

"'We're twa auld fules, ' says MacLure tae me, and he gaithers up hisclaithes. 'It wud set us better tae be tellin' Bell. '

"She wes sleepin' on the top o' her bed wrapped in a plaid, fair wornoot wi' three weeks' nursin' o' Saunders, but at the first touch she wasoot upon the floor. 

"'Is Saunders deein', doctor?' she cries. 'Ye promised tae wauken me;dinna tell me it's a' ower. '

"'There's nae deein' aboot him, Bell; ye're no tae lose yir man thistime, sae far as a' can see. Come ben an' jidge for yersel'. '

"Bell lookit at Saunders, and the tears of joy fell on the bed likerain. 

"'The shadow's lifted, ' she said; 'he's come back frae the mooth o' thetomb. 

"'A' prayed last nicht that the Lord wud leave Saunders till the laddiescud dae for themselves, an' thae words came intae ma mind, 'Weepin' mayendure for a nicht, but joy cometh in the mornin'. "

"'The Lord heard ma prayer, and joy hes come in the mornin', ' an' shegripped the doctor's hand. 

[Illustration]

"'Ye've been the instrument, Doctor MacLure. Ye wudna gie him up, and yedid what nae ither cud for him, an' a've ma man the day, and the bairnshae their father. '

"An' afore MacLure kent what she was daein', Bell lifted his hand to herlips an' kissed it. "

"Did she, though?" cried Jamie. "Wha wud hae thocht there wes as mucklespunk in Bell?"

"MacLure, of coorse, was clean scandalized, " continued Drumsheugh, "an'pooed awa his hand as if it hed been burned. 

"Nae man can thole that kind o' fraikin', and a' never heard o' sica thing in the parish, but we maun excuse Bell, neeburs; it wes anoccasion by ordinar, " and Drumsheugh made Bell's apology to Drumtochtyfor such an excess of feeling. 

"A' see naethin' tae excuse, " insisted Jamie, who was in great fettlethat Sabbath; "the doctor hes never been burdened wi' fees, and a'mjudgin' he coonted a wumman's gratitude that he saved frae weedowhoodthe best he ever got. "

[Illustration: "I'VE A COLD IN MY HEAD, TO-NIGHT"]

"A' gaed up tae the Manse last nicht, " concluded Drumsheugh, "and teltthe minister hoo the doctor focht aucht oors for Saunders' life, an'won, and ye never saw a man sae carried. He walkit up and doon the rooma' the time, and every other meenut he blew his nose like a trumpet. 

"'I've a cold in my head to-night, Drumsheugh, ' says he; 'never mindme. '"

"A've hed the same masel in sic circumstances; they come on sudden, "said Jamie. 

"A' wager there 'ill be a new bit in the laist prayer the day, an'somethin' worth hearin'. "

And the fathers went into kirk in great expectation. 

"We beseech Thee for such as be sick, that Thy hand may be on them forgood, and that Thou wouldst restore them again to health and strength, "was the familiar petition of every Sabbath. 

The congregation waited in a silence that might be heard, and were notdisappointed that morning, for the minister continued:

"Especially we tender Thee hearty thanks that Thou didst spare Thyservant who was brought down into the dust of death, and hast given himback to his wife and children, and unto that end didst wonderfully blessthe skill of him who goes out and in amongst us, the beloved physicianof this parish and adjacent districts. "

"Didna a' tell ye, neeburs?" said Jamie, as they stood at the kirkyardgate before dispersing; "there's no a man in the coonty cud hae duneit better. 'Beloved physician, ' an' his 'skill, ' tae, an' bringing in'adjacent districts'; that's Glen Urtach; it wes handsome, and thedoctor earned it, ay, every word. 

"It's an awfu' peety he didna hear you; but dear knows whar he is theday, maist likely up--"

Jamie stopped suddenly at the sound of a horse's feet, and there, comingdown the avenue of beech trees that made a long vista from the kirkgate, they saw the doctor and Jess. 

One thought flashed through the minds of the fathers of thecommonwealth. 

It ought to be done as he passed, and it would be done if it were notSabbath. Of course it was out of the question on Sabbath. 

The doctor is now distinctly visible, riding after his fashion. 

There was never such a chance, if it were only Saturday; and each manreads his own regret in his neighbor's face. 

The doctor is nearing them rapidly; they can imagine the shepherd'startan. 

Sabbath or no Sabbath, the Glen cannot let him pass without some tributeof their pride. 

Jess had recognized friends, and the doctor is drawing rein. 

"It hes tae be dune, " said Jamie desperately, "say what ye like. "Then they all looked towards him, and Jamie led. 

[Illustration]

"Hurrah, " swinging his Sabbath hat in the air, "hurrah, " and once more, "hurrah, " Whinnie Knowe, Drumsheugh, and Hillocks joining lustily, butTammas Mitchell carrying all before him, for he had found at last anexpression for his feelings that rendered speech unnecessary. 

It was a solitary experience for horse and rider, and Jess boltedwithout delay. But the sound followed and surrounded them, and as theypassed the corner of the kirkyard, a figure waved his college cap overthe wall and gave a cheer on his own account. 

"God bless you, doctor, and well done. "

"If it isna the minister, " cried Drumsheugh, "in his goon an' bans, taethink o' that; but a' respeck him for it. "

Then Drumtochty became self-conscious, and went home in confusion offace and unbroken silence, except Jamie Soutar, who faced his neighborsat the parting of the ways without shame. 

"A' wud dae it a' ower again if a' hed the chance; he got naethin' buthis due. " It was two miles before Jess composed her mind, and the doctorand she could discuss it quietly together. 

"A' can hardly believe ma ears, Jess, an' the Sabbath tae; their verrajidgment hes gane frae the fouk o' Drumtochty. 

"They've heard about Saunders, a'm thinkin', wumman, and they're pleasedwe brocht him roond; he's fairly on the mend, ye ken, noo. 

"A' never expeckit the like o' this, though, and it wes juist a weethingie mair than a' cud hae stude. 

"Ye hev yir share in't tae, lass; we've hed mony a hard nicht and daythegither, an' yon wes oor reward. No mony men in this warld 'ill everget a better, for it cam frae the hert o' honest fouk. "

 THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY. 

IV

THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY

Drumtochty had a vivid recollection of the winter when Dr. MacLure waslaid up for two months with a broken leg, and the Glen was dependent onthe dubious ministrations of the Kildrummie doctor. Mrs. Macfaydenalso pretended to recall a "whup" of some kind or other he had in thefifties, but this was considered to be rather a pyrotechnic display ofElspeth's superior memory than a serious statement of fact. MacLurecould not have ridden through the snow of forty winters withoutsuffering, yet no one ever heard him complain, and he never pledillness to any messenger by night or day. 

"It took me, " said Jamie Soutar to Milton afterwards, "the feck o' tenmeenuts tae howk him 'an' Jess oot ae snawy nicht when Drums turned badsudden, and if he didna try to excuse himself for no hearing me at aincewi' some story aboot juist comin' in frae Glen Urtach, and no bein' inhis bed for the laist twa nichts. 

"He wes that carefu' o' himsel an' lazy that if it hedna been for thesiller, a've often thocht, Milton, he wud never hae dune a handstroke o'wark in the Glen. 

"What scunnered me wes the wy the bairns were ta'en in wi' him. Man, a've seen him tak a wee laddie on his knee that his ain mither cudnaquiet, an' lilt 'Sing a song o' saxpence' till the bit mannie would belauchin' like a gude are, an' pooin' the doctor's beard. 

[Illustration]

"As for the weemen, he fair cuist a glamour ower them; they're daein'naethin' noo but speak aboot this body and the ither he cured, an' hoohe aye hed a couthy word for sick fouk. Weemen hae nae discernment, Milton; tae hear them speak ye wud think MacLure hed been a releegiousman like yersel, although, as ye said, he wes little mair than a Gallio. 

"Bell Baxter was haverin' awa in the shop tae sic an extent aboot the wyMacLure brocht roond Saunders when he hed the fever that a' gied oot atthe door, a' wes that disgusted, an' a'm telt when Tammas Mitchell heardthe news in the smiddy he wes juist on the greeting. 

"The smith said that he wes thinkin' o' Annie's tribble, but ony wy a'ca' it rael bairnly. It's no like Drumtochty; ye're setting an example, Milton, wi' yir composure. But a' mind ye took the doctor's meesure assune as ye cam intae the pairish. "

It is the penalty of a cynic that he must have some relief for hissecret grief, and Milton began to weary of life in Jamie's handsduring those days. 

Drumtochty was not observant in the matter of health, but they had grownsensitive about Dr. MacLure, and remarked in the kirkyard all summerthat he was failing. 

"He wes aye spare, " said Hillocks, "an' he's been sair twisted for thelaist twenty year, but a' never mind him booed till the year. An' he'sgaein' intae sma' buke (bulk), an' a' dinna like that, neeburs. 

"The Glen wudna dae weel withoot Weelum MacLure, an' he's no as young ashe wes. Man, Drumsheugh, ye micht wile him aff tae the saut water atweenthe neeps and the hairst. He's been workin' forty year for a holiday, an' it's aboot due. "

Drumsheugh was full of tact, and met MacLure quite by accident on theroad. 

"Saunders'll no need me till the shearing begins, " he explained to thedoctor, "an' a'm gaein' tae Brochty for a turn o' the hot baths; they'refine for the rheumatics. 

[Illustration]

"Wull ye no come wi' me for auld lang syne? it's lonesome for a solitaryman, an' it wud dae ye gude. "

"Na, na, Drumsheugh, " said MacLure, who understood perfectly, "a've dunea' thae years withoot a break, an' a'm laith (unwilling) tae be takin'holidays at the tail end. 

"A'll no be mony months wi' ye a' thegither noo, an' a'm wanting taespend a' the time a' hev in the Glen. Ye see yersel that a'll sune begetting ma lang rest, an' a'll no deny that a'm wearyin' for it. "

As autumn passed into winter, the Glen noticed that the doctor's hairhad turned grey, and that his manner had lost all its roughness. Afeeling of secret gratitude filled their hearts, and they united in aconspiracy of attention. Annie Mitchell knitted a huge comforter in redand white, which the doctor wore in misery for one whole day, out ofrespect for Annie, and then hung it in his sitting-room as a wallornament. Hillocks used to intercept him with hot drinks, and onedrifting day compelled him to shelter till the storm abated. FloraCampbell brought a wonderful compound of honey and whiskey, much tastedin Auchindarroch, for his cough, and the mother of young Burnbrae filledhis cupboard with black jam, as a healing measure. Jamie Soutar seemedto have an endless series of jobs in the doctor's direction, and lookedin "juist tae rest himsel" in the kitchen. 

MacLure had been slowly taking in the situation, and at last heunburdened himself one night to Jamie. 

"What ails the fouk, think ye? for they're aye lecturin' me noo taetak care o' the weet and tae wrap masel up, an' there's no a week butthey're sendin' bit presents tae the house, till a'm fair ashamed. "

"Oo, a'll explain that in a meenut, " answered Jamie, "for a' ken theGlen weel. Ye see they're juist try in' the Scripture plan o' heapin'coals o' fire on yer head. 

[Illustration: "TOLD DRUMSHEUGH THAT THE DOCTOR WAS NOT ABLE TO RISE"]

"Here ye've been negleckin' the fouk in seeckness an' lettin' them deeafore their freends' eyes withoot a fecht, an' refusin' tae gang tae apuir wumman in her tribble, an' frichtenin' the bairns--no, a'm nodune--and scourgin' us wi' fees, and livin' yersel' on the fat o' theland. 

"Ye've been carryin' on this trade ever sin yir father dee'd, and theGlen didna notis. But ma word, they've fund ye oot at laist, an' they'regaein' tae mak ye suffer for a' yir ill usage. Div ye understand noo?"said Jamie, savagely. 

For a while MacLure was silent, and then he only said:

"It's little a' did for the puir bodies; but ye hev a gude hert, Jamie, a rael good hert. "

It was a bitter December Sabbath, and the fathers were settling theaffairs of the parish ankle deep in snow, when MacLure's old housekeepertold Drumsheugh that the doctor was not able to rise, and wished to seehim in the afternoon. "Ay, ay, " said Hillocks, shaking his head, andthat day Drumsheugh omitted four pews with the ladle, while Jamie was sovicious on the way home that none could endure him. 

Janet had lit a fire in the unused grate, and hung a plaid by the windowto break the power of the cruel north wind, but the bare room with itshalf-a-dozen bits of furniture and a worn strip of carpet, and theoutlook upon the snow drifted up to the second pane of the window andthe black firs laden with their icy burden, sent a chill to Drumsheugh'sheart. 

The doctor had weakened sadly, and could hardly lift his head, but hisface lit up at the sight of his visitor, and the big hand, which was nowquite refined in its whiteness, came out from the bed-clothes with theold warm grip. 

[Illustration: "WITH THE OLD WARM GRIP"]

"Come in by, man, and sit doon; it's an awfu' day tae bring ye sae far, but a' kent ye wudna grudge the traivel. 

"A' wesna sure till last nicht, an' then a' felt it wudna be lang, an'a' took a wearyin' this mornin' tae see ye. 

"We've been friends sin' we were laddies at the auld school in the firs, an' a' wud like ye tae be wi' me at the end. Ye 'ill stay the nicht, Paitrick, for auld lang syne. "

Drumsheugh was much shaken, and the sound of the Christian name, whichhe had not heard since his mother's death, gave him a "grue" (shiver), as if one had spoken from the other world. 

"It's maist awfu' tae hear ye speakin' aboot deein', Weelum; a' cannabear it. We 'ill hae the Muirtown doctor up, an' ye 'ill be aboot againin nae time. 

"Ye hevna ony sair tribble; ye're juist trachled wi' hard wark an'needin' a rest. Dinna say ye're gaein' tae leave us, Weelum; we cannadae withoot ye in Drumtochty;" and Drumsheugh looked wistfully for someword of hope. 

"Na, na, Paitrick, naethin' can be dune, an' it's ower late tae send forony doctor. There's a knock that canna be mista'en, an' a' heard it lastnight. A've focht deith for ither fouk mair than forty year, but ma aintime hes come at laist. 

"A've nae tribble worth mentionin'--a bit titch o' bronchitis--an' a'vehed a graund constitution; but a'm fair worn oot, Paitrick; that's macomplaint, an' its past curin'. "

Drumsheugh went over to the fireplace, and for a while did nothing butbreak up the smouldering peats, whose smoke powerfully affected his noseand eyes. 

[Illustration: "DRUMSHEUGH LOOKED WISTFULLY"]

"When ye're ready, Paitrick, there's twa or three little trokes a' wudlike ye tae look aifter, an' a'll tell ye aboot them as lang's ma head'sclear. 

"A' didna keep buiks, as ye ken, for a' aye hed a guid memory, sonaebody 'ill be harried for money aifter ma deith, and ye 'ill hae naeaccoonts tae collect. 

"But the fouk are honest in Drumtochty, and they 'ill be offerin' yesiller, an' a'll gie ye ma mind aboot it. Gin it be a puir body, tellher tae keep it and get a bit plaidie wi' the money, and she 'ill maybethink o' her auld doctor at a time. Gin it be a bien (well-to-do) man, tak half of what he offers, for a Drumtochty man wud scorn to be mean insic circumstances; and if onybody needs a doctor an' canna pay for him, see he's no left tae dee when a'm oot o' the road. "

"Nae fear o' that as lang as a'm livin', Weelum; that hundred's stilltae the fore, ye ken, an' a'll tak care it's weel spent. 

"Yon wes the best job we ever did thegither, an' dookin' Saunders, ye'ill no forget that nicht, Weelum"--a gleam came into the doctor'seyes--"tae say neathin' o' the Highlan' fling. "

The remembrance of that great victory came upon Drumsheugh, and triedhis fortitude. 

"What 'ill become o's when ye're no here tae gie a hand in time o' need?we 'ill tak ill wi' a stranger that disna ken ane o's frae anither. "

"It's a' for the best, Paitrick, an' ye 'ill see that in a whilie. A'vekent fine that ma day wes ower, an' that ye sud hae a younger man. 

"A' did what a' cud tae keep up wi' the new medicine, but a' hed littletime for readin', an' nane for traivellin'. 

"A'm the last o' the auld schule, an' a' ken as weel as onybody thet a'wesna sae dainty an' fine-mannered as the town doctors. Ye took me as a'wes, an' naebody ever cuist up tae me that a' wes a plain man. Na, na;ye've been rael kind an' conseederate a' thae years. "

"Weelum, gin ye cairry on sic nonsense ony langer, " interruptedDrumsheugh, huskily, "a'll leave the hoose; a' canna stand it. "

"It's the truth, Paitrick, but we 'ill gae on wi' our wark, far a'mfailin' fast. 

"Gie Janet ony sticks of furniture she needs tae furnish a hoose, and sell a' thing else tae pay the wricht (undertaker) an' bedrel(grave-digger). If the new doctor be a young laddie and no verra rich, ye micht let him hae the buiks an' instruments; it 'ill aye be a help. 

"But a' wudna like ye tae sell Jess, for she's been a faithfu' servant, an' a freend tae. There's a note or twa in that drawer a' savit, an'if ye kent ony man that wud gie her a bite o' grass and a sta' in hisstable till she followed her maister--'

"Confoond ye, Weelum, " broke out Drumsheugh; "its doonricht cruel o' yeto speak like this tae me. Whar wud Jess gang but tae Drumsheugh? she'ill hae her run o' heck an' manger sae lang as she lives; the Glenwudna like tae see anither man on Jess, and nae man 'ill ever touch theauld mare. "

[Illustration]

"Dinna mind me, Paitrick, for a" expeckit this; but ye ken we're noverra gleg wi' oor tongues in Drumtochty, an' dinna tell a' that's inoor hearts. 

"Weel, that's a' that a' mind, an' the rest a' leave tae yersel'. A'veneither kith nor kin tae bury me, sae you an' the neeburs 'ill need taelat me doon; but gin Tammas Mitchell or Saunders be stannin' near andlookin' as if they wud like a cord, gie't tae them, Paitrick. They'rebaith dour chiels, and haena muckle tae say, but Tammas hes a graundhert, and there's waur fouk in the Glen than Saunders. 

"A'm gettin' drowsy, an' a'll no be able tae follow ye sune, a' doot;wud ye read a bit tae me afore a' fa' ower?

"Ye 'ill find ma mither's Bible on the drawers' heid, but ye 'ill needtae come close tae the bed, for a'm no hearin' or seein' sae weel as a'wes when ye cam. "

Drumsheugh put on his spectacles and searched for a comfortableScripture, while the light of the lamp fell on his shaking hands and thedoctor's face where the shadow was now settling. 

[Illustration]

"Ma mither aye wantit this read tae her when she wes sober" (weak), andDrumsheugh began, "In My Father's house are many mansions, " but MacLurestopped him. 

"It's a bonnie word, an' yir mither wes a sanct; but it's no for thelike o' me. It's ower gude; a' daurna tak it. 

"Shut the buik an' let it open itsel, an' ye 'ill get a bit a've beenreadin' every nicht the laist month. "

Then Drumsheugh found the Parable wherein the Master tells us what Godthinks of a Pharisee and of a penitent sinner, till he came to thewords: "And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up somuch as his eyes to heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God bemerciful to me a sinner. "

"That micht hae been written for me, Paitrick, or ony ither auld sinnerthat hes feenished his life, an' hes naethin' tae say for himsel'. 

"It wesna easy for me tae get tae kirk, but a' cud hae managed wi' astretch, an' a' used langidge a' sudna, an' a' micht hae been gentler, and not been so short in the temper. A' see't a' noo. 

"It's ower late tae mend, but ye 'ill maybe juist say to the fouk that Iwes sorry, an' a'm houpin' that the Almichty 'ill hae mercy on me. 

"Cud ye . .. Pit up a bit prayer, Paitrick?"

"A' haena the words, " said Drumsheugh in great distress; "wud ye like'stae send for the minister?"

"It's no the time for that noo, an' a' wud rather hae yersel'--juistwhat's in yir heart, Paitrick: the Almichty 'ill ken the lave (rest)Himsel'. "

So Drumsheugh knelt and prayed with many pauses. 

"Almichty God . .. Dinna be hard on Weelum MacLure, for he's no been hardwi' onybody in Drumtochty. .. . Be kind tae him as he's been tae us a' forforty year. .. . We're a' sinners afore Thee. .. . Forgive him what he'sdune wrang, an' dinna cuist it up tae him. .. . Mind the fouk he's helpit. .. . The wee-men an' bairnies. .. . An' gie him a welcome hame, for he'ssair needin't after a' his wark. .. . Amen. "

"Thank ye, Paitrick, and gude nicht tae ye. Ma ain true freend, gie'syir hand, for a'll maybe no ken ye again. 

"Noo a'll say ma mither's prayer and hae a sleep, but ye 'ill no leaveme till a' is ower. "

Then he repeated as he had done every night of his life:

 "This night I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. And if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. "

He was sleeping quietly when the wind drove the snow against the windowwith a sudden "swish;" and he instantly awoke, so to say, in his sleep. Some one needed him. 

"Are ye frae Glen Urtach?" and an unheard voice seemed to have answeredhim. 

"Worse is she, an' suffering awfu'; that's no lichtsome; ye did richttae come. 

"The front door's drifted up; gang roond tae the back, an' ye 'ill getintae the kitchen; a'll be ready in a meenut. 

"Gie's a hand wi' the lantern when a'm saidling Jess, an' ye needna comeon till daylicht; a' ken the road. "

[Illustration]

Then he was away in his sleep on some errand of mercy, and strugglingthrough the storm. "It's a coorse nicht, Jess, an' heavy traivellin';can ye see afore ye, lass? for a'm clean confused wi' the snaw; bide awee till a' find the diveesion o' the roads; it's aboot here back orforrit. 

"Steady, lass, steady, dinna plunge; i'ts a drift we're in, but ye're nosinkin'; . .. Up noo; . .. There ye are on the road again. 

"Eh, it's deep the nicht, an' hard on us baith, but there's a puirwumman micht dee if we didna warstle through; . .. That's it; ye ken finewhat a'm sayin. '

"We 'ill hae tae leave the road here, an' tak tae the muir. Sandie 'illno can leave the wife alane tae meet us; . .. Feel for yersel" lass, andkeep oot o' the holes. 

"Yon's the hoose black in the snaw. Sandie! man, ye frichtened us; a'didna see ye ahint the dyke; hoos the wife?"

After a while he began again:

"Ye're fair dune, Jess, and so a' am masel'; we're baith gettin' auld, an' dinna tak sae weel wi' the nicht wark. 

"We 'ill sune be hame noo; this is the black wood, and it's no langaifter that; we're ready for oor beds, Jess. .. . Ay, ye like a clap at atime; mony a mile we've gaed hegither. 

"Yon's the licht in the kitchen window; nae wonder ye're nickering(neighing). .. . It's been a stiff journey; a'm tired, lass. .. . A'm tiredtae deith, " and the voice died into silence. 

Drumsheugh held his friend's hand, which now and again tightened in his, and as he watched, a change came over the face on the pillow beside him. The lines of weariness disappeared, as if God's hand had passed over it;and peace began to gather round the closed eyes. 

The doctor has forgotten the toil of later years, and has gone back tohis boyhood. 

[Illustration: "SHE'S CARRYIN' A LIGHT IN HER HAND"]

"The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want, " he repeated, till he came tothe last verse, and then he hesitated. 

 "Goodness and mercy all my life Shall surely follow me. 

"Follow me . .. And . .. And . .. What's next? Mither said I wes tae haedready when she cam. 

"'A'll come afore ye gang tae sleep, Wullie, but ye 'ill no get yir kissunless ye can feenish the psalm. '

"And . .. In God's house . .. For evermore my . .. Hoo dis it rin? a cannamind the next word . .. My, my--

"It's ower dark noo tae read it, an' mither 'ill sune be comin. "

Drumsheugh, in an agony, whispered into his ear, "'My dwelling-place, 'Weelum. "

"That's it, that's it a' noo; wha said it?

 "And in God's house for evermore My dwelling-place shall be. 

"A'm ready noo, an' a'll get ma kiss when mither comes; a' wish she wudcome, for a'm tired an' wantin' tae sleep. 

"Yon's her step . .. An' she's carryin' a licht in her hand; a' see itthrough the door. 

"Mither! a' kent ye wudna forget yir laddie for ye promised tae come, and a've feenished ma psalm. 

 "And in God's house for evermore My dwelling-place shall be. 

"Gie me the kiss, mither, for a've been waitin' for ye, an' a'll sune beasleep. "

The grey morning light fell on Drumsheugh, still holding his friend'scold hand, and staring at a hearth where the fire had died down intowhite ashes; but the peace on the doctor's face was of one who restedfrom his labours. 

 THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN

V. 

THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN. 

Dr. MacLure was buried during the great snowstorm which is still spokenof, and will remain the standard of snowfall in Drumtochty for thecentury. The snow was deep on the Monday, and the men that gave noticeof his funeral had hard work to reach the doctor's distant patients. On Tuesday morning it began to fall again in heavy, fleecy flakes, andcontinued till Thursday, and then on Thursday the north wind rose andswept the snow into the hollows of the roads that went to the uplandfarms, and built it into a huge bank at the mouth of Glen Urtach, andlaid it across our main roads in drifts of every size and the mostlovely shapes, and filled up crevices in the hills to the depth of fiftyfeet. 

On Friday morning the wind had sunk to passing gusts that powderedyour coat with white, and the sun was shining on one of those winterlandscapes no townsman can imagine and no countryman ever forgets. TheGlen, from end to end and side to side, was clothed in a glisteringmantle white as no fuller on earth could white it, that flung its skirtsover the clumps of trees and scattered farmhouses, and was only dividedwhere the Tochty ran with black, swollen stream. The great moor rose andfell in swelling billows of snow that arched themselves over the burns, running deep in the mossy ground, and hid the black peat bogs with athin, treacherous crust. 

[Illustration. ]

Beyond, the hills northwards and westwards stood high in white majesty, save where the black crags of Glen Urtach broke the line, and, above ourlower Grampians, we caught glimpses of the distant peaks that liftedtheir heads in holiness unto God. 

It seemed to me a fitting day for William MacLure's funeral, rather thansummer time, with its flowers and golden corn. He had not been a softman, nor had he lived an easy life, and now he was to be laid to restamid the austere majesty of winter, yet in the shining of the sun. JamieSoutar, with whom I toiled across the Glen, did not think with me, butwas gravely concerned. 

"Nae doot it's a graund sicht; the like o't is no gien tae us twice ina generation, an' nae king wes ever carried tae his tomb in sic acathedral. 

"But it's the fouk a'm conseederin', an' hoo they'll win through; it'shard eneuch for them 'at's on the road, an' it's clean impossible forthe lave. 

[Illustration: "TOILED ACROSS THE GLEN"]

"They 'ill dae their best, every man o' them, ye may depend on that, an' hed it been open weather there wudna hev been six able-bodiedmen missin'. 

"A' wes mad at them, because they never said onything when he wesleevin', but they felt for a' that what he hed dune, an', a' think, hekent it afore he deed. 

"He hed juist ae faut, tae ma thinkin', for a' never jidged the wauro' him for his titch of rochness--guid trees hae gnarled bark--but hethotched ower little o' himsel'. 

"Noo, gin a' hed asked him hoo mony fouk wud come tae his beerial, hewud hae said, 'They 'ill be Drumsheugh an' yersel', an' may be twa orthree neeburs besides the minister, ' an' the fact is that nae man in oortime wud hae sic a githerin' if it werena for the storm. 

[Illustration]

"Ye see, " said Jamie, who had been counting heads all morning, "there'ssix shepherds in Glen Urtaeh--they're shut up fast; an' there micht haebeen a gude half dizen frae Dunleith wy, an' a'm telt there's nae road;an' there's the heich Glen, nae man cud cross the muir the day, an' it'saucht mile round;" and Jamie proceeded to review the Glen in everydetail of age, driftiness of road and strength of body, till we arrivedat the doctor's cottage, when he had settled on a reduction of fiftythrough stress of weather. 

[Illustration: "ANE OF THEM GIED OWER THE HEAD IN A DRIFT, AND HISNEEBURS HAD TAE PU' HIM OOT, "]

Drumsheugh was acknowledged as chief mourner by the Glen, and receivedus at the gate with a labored attempt at everyday manners. 

"Ye've hed heavy traivellin', a' doot, an' ye 'ill be cauld. It's hardweather for the sheep an' a'm thinkin' this 'ill be a feeding storm. 

"There wes nae use trying tae dig oot the front door yestreen, for itwud hae been drifted up again before morning. We've cleared awa the snowat the back for the prayer; ye 'ill get in at the kitchen door. 

"There's a puckle Dunleith men-----"

"Wha?" cried Jamie in an instant. 

"Dunleith men, " said Drumsheugh. 

"Div ye mean they're here, whar are they?"

"Drying themsels at the fire, an' no withoot need; ane of them giedower the head in a drift, and his neeburs hed tae pu' him oot. 

"It took them a gude fower oors tae get across, an' it wes coorse wark;they likit him weel doon that wy, an', Jamie, man"--here Drumsheugh'svoice changed its note, and his public manner disappeared--"what div yethink o' this? every man o' them has on his blacks. "

"It's mair than cud be expeckit" said Jamie; "but whar dae yon men comefrae, Drumsheugh?"

Two men in plaids were descending the hill behind the doctor's cottage, taking three feet at a stride, and carrying long staffs in their hands. 

"They're Glen Urtach men, Jamie, for are o' them wes at Kildrummie fairwi' sheep, but hoo they've wun doon passes me. "

"It canna be, Drumsheugh, " said Jamie, greatly excited. "Glen Urtach'ssteikit up wi' sna like a locked door. 

[Illustration: "TWO MEN IN PLAIDS WERE DESCENDING THE HILL"]

"Ye're no surely frae the Glen, lads?" as the men leaped the dyke andcrossed to the back door, the snow falling from their plaids as theywalked. 

"We're that an' nae mistak, but a' thocht we wud be lickit ae place, eh, Charlie? a'm no sae weel acquant wi' the hill on this side, an' therewes some kittle (hazardous) drifts. "

"It wes grand o' ye tae mak the attempt, " said Drumsheugh, "an' a'm gledye're safe. "

"He cam through as bad himsel' tae help ma wife, " was Charlie's reply. 

"They're three mair Urtach shepherds 'ill come in by sune; they're fraeUpper Urtach an' we saw them fording the river; ma certes it took thema' their time, for it wes up tae their waists and rinnin' like a milllade, but they jined hands and cam ower fine. " And the Urtach men wentin to the fire. The Glen began to arrive in twos and threes, and Jamie, from a point of vantage at the gate, and under an appearance of utterindifference, checked his roll till even he was satisfied. 

[Illustration]

"Weelum MacLure 'ill hae the beerial he deserves in spite o' sna anddrifts; it passes a' tae see hoo they've githered frae far an' near. 

"A'm thinkin' ye can colleck them for the minister noo, Drumsheugh. A'body's here except the heich Glen, an' we mauna luke for them. "

"Dinna be sae sure o' that, Jamie. Yon's terrible like them on the road, wi' Whinnie at their head;" and so it was, twelve in all, only old AdamRoss absent, detained by force, being eighty-two years of age. 

"It wud hae been temptin' Providence tae cross the muir, " Whinnieexplained, "and it's a fell stap roond; a' doot we're laist. "

"See, Jamie, " said Drumsheugh, as he went to the house, "gin there beony antern body in sicht afore we begin; we maun mak allooances the daywi' twa feet o' sna on the grund, tae say naethin' o' drifts. "

"There's something at the turnin', an' it's no fouk; it's a machine o'some kind or ither--maybe a bread cart that's focht its wy up. "

"Na, it's no that; there's twa horses, are afore the ither; if it's no adogcairt wi' twa men in the front; they 'ill be comin' tae the beerial. ""What wud ye sae, Jamie, " Hillocks suggested, "but it micht be some o'thae Muirtown doctors? they were awfu' chief wi' MacLure. "

"It's nae Muirtown doctors, " cried Jamie, in great exultation, "nor onyither doctors. A' ken thae horses, and wha's ahind them. Quick, man, Hillocks, stop the fouk, and tell Drumsheugh tae come oot, for LordKilspindie hes come up frae Muirtown Castle. "

Jamie himself slipped behind, and did not wish to be seen. 

"It's the respeck he's gettin' the day frae high an' low, " was Jamie'shusky apology; "tae think o' them fetchin' their wy doon frae GlenUrtach, and toiling roond frae the heich Glen, an' his Lordship drivingthrough the drifts a' the road frae Muirtown, juist tae honour WeelumMacLure's beerial. 

[Illustration: "TWA HORSES, ANE AFORE THE ITHER"]

"It's nae ceremony the day, ye may lippen tae it; it's the hert brochtthe fouk, an' ye can see it in their faces; ilka man hes his ainreason, an' he's thinkin' on't though he's speakin' o' naethin' but thestorm; he's mindin' the day Weelum pued him out frae the jaws o' death, or the nicht he savit the gude wife in her oor o' tribble. 

"That's why they pit on their blacks this mornin' afore it wes licht, and wrastled through the sna drifts at risk o' life. Drumtochty foukcanna say muckle, it's an awfu' peety, and they 'ill dae their best taeshow naethin', but a' can read it a' in their een. 

"But wae's me"--and Jamie broke down utterly behind a fir tree, sotender a thing is a cynic's heart--"that fouk 'ill tak a man's best warka' his days without a word an' no dae him honour till he dees. Oh, ifthey hed only githered like this juist aince when he wes livin', an' lathim see he hedna laboured in vain. His reward has come ower late". 

During Jamie's vain regret, the castle trap, bearing the marks of a wildpassage in the snow-covered wheels, a broken shaft tied with rope, atwisted lamp, and the panting horses, pulled up between two rows offarmers, and Drumsheugh received his lordship with evident emotion. 

"Ma lord . .. We never thocht o' this . .. An' sic a road. "

"How are you, Drumsheugh? and how are you all this wintry day? That'show I'm half an hour late; it took us four hours' stiff work for sixteenmiles, mostly in the drifts, of course. "

"It wes gude o' yir lordship, tae mak sic an effort, an' the hale Glenwull be gratefu' tae ye, for ony kindness tae him is kindness tae us. "

[Illustration: HE HAD LEFT HIS OVERCOAT AND WAS IN BLACK]

"You make too much of it, Drumsheugh, " and the clear, firm voice washeard of all; "it would have taken more than a few snow drifts to keepme from showing my respect to William MacLure's memory. " When all hadgathered in a half circle before the kitchen door, Lord Kilspindie cameout--every man noticed he had left his overcoat, and was in black, likethe Glen--and took a place in the middle with Drumsheugh and Burnbrae, his two chief tenants, on the right and left, and as the ministerappeared every man bared his head. 

The doctor looked on the company--a hundred men such as for strengthand gravity you could hardly have matched in Scotland--standing out inpicturesque relief against the white background, and he said:

"It's a bitter day, friends, and some of you are old; perhaps it mightbe wise to cover your heads before I begin to pray. "

Lord Kilspindie, standing erect and grey-headed between the two old men, replied:

"We thank you, Dr. Davidson, for your thoughtfulness; but he enduredmany a storm in our service, and we are not afraid of a few minutes'cold at his funeral. "

A look flashed round the stern faces, and was reflected from theminister, who seemed to stand higher. 

His prayer, we noticed with critical appreciation, was composed for theoccasion, and the first part was a thanksgiving to God for the life workof our doctor, wherein each clause was a reference to his services andsacrifices. No one moved or said Amen--it had been strange with us--butwhen every man had heard the gratitude of his dumb heart offered toheaven, there was a great sigh. 

After which the minister prayed that we might have grace to live as thisman had done from youth to old age, not for himself, but for others, and that we might be followed to our grave by somewhat of "that lovewherewith we mourn this day Thy servant departed. " Again the same sigh, and the minister said Amen. The "wricht" stood in the doorway withoutspeaking, and four stalwart men came forward. They were the volunteersthat would lift the coffin and carry it for the first stage. One wasTammas, Annie Mitchell's man; and another was Saunders Baxter, for whoselife MacLure had his great fight with death; and the third was the GlenUrtach shepherd for whose wife's sake MacLure suffered a broken leg andthree fractured ribs in a drift; and the fourth, a Dunleith man, had hisown reasons of remembrance. 

"He's far lichter than ye wud expeck for sae big a man--there wesnamuckle left o' him, ye see--but the road is heavy, and a'il change yeaifter the first half mile. "

"Ye needna tribble yersel, wricht, " said the man from Glen Urtach;"the'll be nae change in the cairryin' the day, " and Tammas was thankfulsome one had saved him speaking. 

Surely no funeral is like unto that of a doctor for pathos, and apeculiar sadness fell on that company as his body was carried out whofor nearly half a century had been their help in sickness, and hadbeaten back death time after time from their door. Death after allwas victor, for the man that had saved them had not been able to savehimself. 

As the coffin passed the stable door a horse nieghed within, and everyman looked at his neighbour. It was his old mare crying to her master. 

Jamie slipped into the stable, and went up into the stall. 

"Puir lass, ye're no gaen' wi' him the day, an' ye 'ill never see himagain; ye've hed yir last ride thegither, an' ye were true tae the end. "

[Illustration: "DEATH AFTER ALL WAS VICTOR"]

After the funeral Drumsheugh came himself for Jess, and took her to hisfarm. Saunders made a bed for her with soft, dry straw, and prepared forher supper such things as horses love. Jess would neither take food norrest, but moved uneasily in her stall, and seemed to be waiting for someone that never came. No man knows what a horse or a dog understands andfeels, for God hath not given them our speech. If any footstep was heardin the courtyard, she began to neigh, and was always looking round asthe door opened. But nothing would tempt her to eat, and in thenight-time Drumsheugh heard her crying as if she expected to be takenout for some sudden journey. The Kildrummie veterinary came to see her, and said that nothing could be done when it happened after this fashionwith an old horse. 

[Illustration]

"A've seen it aince afore, " he said. "Gin she were a Christian insteado' a horse, ye micht say she wes dying o' a broken hert. "

He recommended that she should be shot to end her misery, but no mancould be found in the Glen to do the deed and Jess relieved them of thetrouble. When Drumsheugh went to the stable on Monday morning, a weekafter Dr. MacLure fell on sleep, Jess was resting at last, but her eyeswere open and her face turned to the door. 

"She wes a' the wife he hed, " said Jamie, as he rejoined the procession, "an' they luved ane anither weel. "

The black thread wound itself along the whiteness of the Glen, thecoffin first, with his lordship and Drumsheugh behind, and the others asthey pleased, but in closer ranks than usual, because the snow on eitherside was deep, and because this was not as other funerals. They couldsee the women standing at the door of every house on the hillside, andweeping, for each family had some good reason in forty years to rememberMacLure. When Bell Baxter saw Saunders alive, and the coffin of thedoctor that saved him on her man's shoulder, she bowed her head on thedyke, and the bairns in the village made such a wail for him they lovedthat the men nearly disgraced themselves. 

"A'm gled we're through that, at ony rate, " said Hillocks; "he wes awfu'taen up wi' the bairns, conseederin' he hed nane o' his ain. "

There was only one drift on the road between his cottage and thekirkyard, and it had been cut early that morning. Before daybreakSaunders had roused the lads in the bothy, and they had set to work bythe light of lanterns with such good will that, when Drumsheugh camedown to engineer a circuit for the funeral, there was a fair passage, with walls of snow twelve feet high on either side. 

[Illustration. ]

"Man, Saunders, " he said, "this wes a kind thocht, and rael weel dune. "

But Saunders' only reply was this: "Mony a time he's hed tae ganground; he micht as weel hae an open road for his last traivel. "

[Illustration: "STANDING AT THE DOOR"]

When the coffin was laid down at the mouth of the grave, the onlyblackness in the white kirkyard, Tammas Mitchell did the most beautifulthing in all his life. He knelt down and carefully wiped off the snowthe wind had blown upon the coffin, and which had covered the name, and when he had done this he disappeared behind the others, so thatDrumsheugh could hardly find him to take a cord. For these were theeight that buried Dr. MacLure--Lord Kilspindie at the head as landlordand Drumsheugh at his feet as his friend; the two ministers of theparish came first on the right and left; then Burnbrae and Hillocks ofthe farmers, and Saunders and Tammas for the plowmen. So the Glen heloved laid him to rest. 

When the bedrel had finished his work and the turf had been spread, LordKilspindie spoke:

"Friends of Drumtochty, it would not be right that we should part insilence and no man say what is in every heart. We have buried theremains of one that served this Glen with a devotion that has known noreserve, and a kindliness that never failed, for more than forty years. I have seen many brave men in my day, but no man in the trenches ofSebastopol carried himself more knightly than William MacLure. You willnever have heard from his lips what I may tell you to-day, that myfather secured for him a valuable post in his younger days, and hepreferred to work among his own people; and I wished to do many thingsfor him when he was old, but he would have nothing for himself. He willnever be forgotten while one of us lives, and I pray that all doctorseverywhere may share his spirit. If it be your pleasure, I shall erecta cross above his grave, and shall ask my old friend and companion Dr. Davidson, your minister, to choose the text to be inscribed. "

"We thank you, Lord Kilspindie, " said the doctor, "for your presencewith us in our sorrow and your tribute to the memory of William MacLure, and I choose this for his text:

 "'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. '"

Milton was, at that time, held in the bonds of a very bitter theology, and his indignation was stirred by this unqualified eulogium. 

"No doubt Dr. MacLure hed mony natural virtues, an' he did his warkweel, but it wes a peety he didna mak mair profession o' releegion. "

"When William MacLure appears before the Judge, Milton, " said LachlanCampbell, who that day spoke his last words in public, and they were indefence of charity, "He will not be asking him about his professions, for the doctor's judgment hass been ready long ago; and it iss a goodjudgment, and you and I will be happy men if we get the like of it. 

"It is written in the Gospel, but it iss William MacLure that will notbe expecting it. "

"What is't Lachlan?" asked Jamie Soutar eagerly. 

The old man, now very feeble, stood in the middle of the road, and hisface, once so hard, was softened into a winsome tenderness. 

 "'Come, ye blessed of My Father . .. I was sick and ye visited Me. '"

[Illustration: GREATER LOVE HATH NO MAN THAN THIS, THAT A MAN LAY DOWNHIS LIFE FOR HIS FRIENDS. ]