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+Project Gutenberg's A Doctor of the Old School, Complete, by Ian Maclaren
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Doctor of the Old School, Complete
+
+Author: Ian Maclaren
+
+Release Date: November 1, 2006 [EBook #9320]
+Last Updated: March 1, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL, ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger and PG Distributed
+Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                    A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL
+
+                        by Ian Maclaren
+
+
+
+CONTENTS:
+
+A GENERAL PRACTITIONER
+THROUGH THE FLOOD
+A FIGHT WITH DEATH
+THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY
+THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS:
+
+Dr. MacLure
+Sandy Stewart “Napped” Stones
+The Gudewife is Keepin' up a Ding-Dong
+His House--little more than a cottage
+Whirling Past in a Cloud of Dust
+Will He Never Come?
+The Verra Look o' Him wes Victory
+Weeping by Her Man's Bedside
+For Such Risks of Life, Men Get the Victoria Cross in Other Fields
+Hopps' Laddie Ate Grosarts
+There werna Mair than Four at Nicht
+A' doot Yir Gaein' tae Lose Her, Tammas
+The Bonniest, Snoddest, Kindliest Lass in the Glen
+The Winter Night was Falling Fast
+Comin' tae Meet Me in the Gloamin'
+It's oot o' the Question, Jess, sae Hurry up
+It's a Fell Chairge for a Short Day's Work
+The East had Come to Meet the West
+MacLure Explained that it would be an Eventful Journey
+They Passed through the Shallow Water without Mishap
+A Heap of Speechless Misery by the Kitchen Fire
+Ma ain Dear Man
+I'm Proud to have Met You
+Gave Way Utterly
+Fillin' His Lungs for Five and Thirty Year wi' Strong Drumtochty Air
+Bell Leant Over the Bed
+A Large Tub
+The Lighted Window in Saunder's Cottage
+A Clenched Fist Resting on the Bed
+The Doctor was Attempting the Highland
+Fling
+Sleepin' on the Top o' Her Bed
+A' Prayed Last Nicht
+I've a Cold in My Head To-night
+Jess Bolted without Delay
+Comin' in Frae Glen Urtach
+Drumsheugh was Full of Tact
+Told Drumsheugh that the Doctor was not Able to Rise
+With the Old Warm Grip
+Drumsheugh Looked Wistfully
+Wud Gie Her a Bite o' Grass
+Ma Mither's Bible
+It's a Coorse Nicht, Jess
+She's Carryin' a Licht in Her Hand
+The Tochty Ran with Black, Swollen Stream
+Toiled Across the Glen
+There was Nae Use Trying tae Dig Oot the Front Door
+Ane of Them Gied Ower the Head in a Drift, and His Neeburs hed tae
+  pu' Him oot
+Two Men in Plaids were Descending the Hill
+Jined Hands and Cam ower Fine
+Twa Horses, Ane afore the Ither
+He had Left His Overcoat, and was in Black
+Death after All was Victor
+She Began to Neigh
+They had Set to Work
+Standing at the Door
+Finis
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+It is with great good will that I write this short preface to the
+edition of “A Doctor of the Old School” (which has been illustrated by
+Mr. Gordon after an admirable and understanding fashion) because there
+are two things that I should like to say to my readers, being also my
+friends.
+
+One, is to answer a question that has been often and fairly asked. Was
+there ever any doctor so self-forgetful and so utterly Christian as
+William MacLure? To which I am proud to reply, on my conscience: Not one
+man, but many in Scotland and in the South country. I will dare prophecy
+also across the sea.
+
+It has been one man's good fortune to know four country doctors, not one
+of whom was without his faults--Weelum was not perfect--but who, each
+one, might have sat for my hero. Three are now resting from their
+labors, and the fourth, if he ever should see these lines, would never
+identify himself.
+
+Then I desire to thank my readers, and chiefly the medical profession
+for the reception given to the Doctor of Drumtochty.
+
+For many years I have desired to pay some tribute to a class whose
+service to the community was known to every countryman, but after the
+tale had gone forth my heart failed. For it might have been despised
+for the little grace of letters in the style and because of the outward
+roughness of the man. But neither his biographer nor his circumstances
+have 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 in
+commendation of Weelum MacLure, and many were from doctors who had
+received new courage. It is surely more honor than a new writer could
+ever have deserved to receive the approbation of a profession whose
+charity puts us all to shame.
+
+May I take this first opportunity to declare how deeply my heart has
+been 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 face
+to face.
+
+IAN MACLAREN. Liverpool, Oct. 4, 1895.
+
+
+
+
+                     A GENERAL PRACTITIONER.
+
+
+I
+
+A GENERAL PRACTITIONER
+
+Drumtochty was accustomed to break every law of health, except wholesome
+food and fresh air, and yet had reduced the Psalmist's farthest limit to
+an average life-rate. Our men made no difference in their clothes for
+summer or winter, Drumsheugh and one or two of the larger farmers
+condescending to a topcoat on Sabbath, as a penalty of their position,
+and without regard to temperature. They wore their blacks at a funeral,
+refusing to cover them with anything, out of respect to the deceased,
+and standing longest in the kirkyard when the north wind was blowing
+across a hundred miles of snow. If the rain was pouring at the Junction,
+then Drumtochty stood two minutes longer through sheer native dourness
+till each man had a cascade from the tail of his coat, and hazarded the
+suggestion, 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 in
+the shape of a “hoast” (cough), and the head of the house was then
+exhorted by his women folk to “change his feet” if he had happened to
+walk through a burn on his way home, and was pestered generally with
+sanitary precautions. It is right to add that the  gudeman treated such
+advice with contempt, regarding it as suitable for the effeminacy of
+towns, but not seriously 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 he
+spent ten years more in regretting his hastiness and criticising his
+successor. The ordinary course of life, with fine air and contented
+minds, was to do a full share of work till seventy, and then to look
+after “orra” jobs well into the eighties, and to “slip awa” within sight
+of ninety. Persons above ninety were understood to be acquitting
+themselves with credit, and assumed airs of authority, brushing aside
+the opinions of seventy as immature, and confirming their conclusions
+with illustrations drawn from the end of last century.
+
+When Hillocks' brother so far forgot himself as to “slip awa”
+ at sixty, that worthy man was scandalized, and offered laboured
+explanations at the “beerial.”
+
+“It's an awfu' business ony wy ye look at it, an' a sair trial tae us
+a'. A' never heard tell o' sic a thing in oor family afore, an' it's no
+easy accoontin' for't.
+
+“The gudewife was sayin' he wes never the same sin' a weet nicht he lost
+himsel on the muir and slept below a bush; but that's neither here nor
+there. A'm thinkin' he sappit his constitution thae twa years he wes
+grieve aboot England. That wes thirty years syne, but ye're never the
+same aifter thae foreign climates.”
+
+Drumtochty listened patiently to Hillocks' apology, but was not
+satisfied.
+
+“It's clean havers about the muir. Losh keep's, we've a' sleepit oot and
+never 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 hed
+been nippit in the Sooth.”
+
+The parish had, in fact, lost confidence in Drums after his wayward
+experiment with a potato-digging machine, which turned out a lamentable
+failure, and his premature departure confirmed our vague impression of
+his character.
+
+“He's awa noo,” Drumsheugh summed up, after opinion had time to form;
+“an' there were waur fouk than Drums, but there's nae doot he was a wee
+flichty.”
+
+When illness had the audacity to attack a Drumtochty man, it was
+described as a “whup,” and was treated by the men with a fine
+negligence. Hillocks was sitting in the post-office one afternoon when
+I looked in for my letters, and the right side of his face was blazing
+red. His subject of discourse was the prospects of the turnip “breer,”
+ but he casually explained that he was waiting for medical advice.
+
+“The gudewife is keepin' up a ding-dong frae mornin' till nicht aboot ma
+face, and a'm fair deaved (deafened), so a'm watchin' for MacLure tae
+get a bottle as he comes wast; yon's him noo.”
+
+The doctor made his diagnosis from horseback on sight, and stated the
+result with that admirable clearness which endeared him to Drumtochty.
+
+“Confoond ye, Hillocks, what are ye ploiterin' aboot here for in the
+weet 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' ye
+afore a' leave the bit, and send a haflin for some medicine. Ye donnerd
+idiot, are ye ettlin tae follow Drums afore yir time?” And the medical
+attendant of Drumtochty continued his invective till Hillocks started,
+and still pursued his  retreating figure with medical directions of a
+simple 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 the
+mornin', and dinna show yir face in the fields till a' see ye. A'll gie
+ye a cry on Monday--sic an auld fule--but there's no are o' them tae
+mind anither in the hale pairish.”
+
+Hillocks' wife informed the kirkyaird that the doctor “gied the gudeman
+an awfu' clear-in',” and that Hillocks “wes keepin' the hoose,” which
+meant that the patient had tea breakfast, and at that time was wandering
+about the farm buildings in an easy undress with his head in a plaid.
+
+It was impossible for a doctor to earn even the most modest competence
+from a people of such scandalous health, and so MacLure had annexed
+neighbouring parishes. His house--little more than a cottage--stood on
+the roadside among the pines towards the head of our Glen, and from this
+base of operations he dominated the wild glen that broke the wall of the
+Grampians above Drumtochty--where the snow drifts were twelve feet deep
+in winter, and the only way of passage at times was the channel of the
+river--and the moorland district westwards till he came to the Dunleith
+sphere of influence, where there were four doctors and a hydropathic.
+Drumtochty in its length, which was eight miles, and its breadth, which
+was 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 way
+thereto was across the big moor with its peat holes and treacherous
+bogs. And he held the land eastwards towards Muirtown so far as Geordie,
+the Drumtochty post, travelled every day, and could carry word that the
+doctor was wanted. He did his best for the need of every man, woman and
+child in this wild, straggling district, year in, year out, in the snow
+and in the heat, in the dark and in the light, without rest, and without
+holiday for forty years.
+
+One horse could not do the work of this man, but we liked best to see
+him on his old white mare, who died the week after her master, and the
+passing of the two did our hearts good. It was not that he rode
+beautifully, for he broke every canon of art, flying with his arms,
+stooping till he seemed to be speaking into Jess's ears, and rising in
+the saddle beyond all necessity. But he could rise faster, stay longer
+in the saddle, and had a firmer grip with his knees than any one I ever
+met, and it was all for mercy's sake. When the reapers in harvest time
+saw a figure whirling past in a cloud of dust, or the family at the foot
+of Glen Urtach, gathered round the fire on a winter's night, heard the
+rattle of a horse's hoofs on the road, or the shepherds, out after the
+sheep, traced a black speck moving across the snow to the upper glen,
+they knew it was the doctor, and, without being conscious of it, wished
+him God speed.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Before and behind his saddle were strapped the instruments and medicines
+the doctor might want, for he never knew what was before him. There were
+no specialists in Drumtochty, so this man had to do everything as best
+he could, and as quickly. He was chest doctor and doctor for every other
+organ as well; he was accoucheur and surgeon; he was oculist and aurist;
+he was dentist and chloroformist, besides being chemist and druggist.
+It was often told how he was far up Glen Urtach when the feeders of the
+threshing mill caught young Burnbrae, and how he only stopped to change
+horses at his house, and galloped all the way to Burnbrae, and flung
+himself off his horse and amputated the arm, and saved the lad's life.
+
+“You wud hae thocht that every meenut was an hour,” said Jamie Soutar,
+who had been at the threshing, “an' a'll never forget the puir lad lying
+as white as deith on the floor o' the loft, wi' his head on a sheaf, an'
+Burnbrae haudin' the bandage ticht an' prayin' a' the while, and the
+mither greetin' in the corner.
+
+“'Will he never come?' she cries, an' a' heard the soond o' the horse's
+feet on the road a mile awa in the frosty air.
+
+“'The Lord be praised!' said Burnbrae, and a' slippit doon the ladder
+as the doctor came skelpin' intae the close, the foam fleein' frae his
+horse's mooth.
+
+“Whar is he?' wes a' that passed his lips, an' in five meenuts he hed
+him on the feedin' board, and wes at his wark--sic wark, neeburs--but he
+did it weel. An' ae thing a' thocht rael thochtfu' o' him: he first sent
+aff the laddie's mither tae get a bed ready.
+
+“Noo that's feenished, and his constitution 'ill dae the rest,” and he
+carried the lad doon the ladder in his airms like a bairn, and laid him
+in 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' hevna
+tasted meat for saxteen hoors.'
+
+“It was michty tae see him come intae the yaird that day, neeburs; the
+verra look o' him wes victory.”
+
+[Illustration: “THE VERRA LOOK O' HIM WES VICTORY”]
+
+Jamie's cynicism slipped off in the enthusiasm of this reminiscence, and
+he expressed the feeling of Drumtochty. No one sent for MacLure save in
+great straits, and the sight of him put courage in sinking hearts. But
+this was not by the grace of his appearance, or the advantage of a good
+bedside manner. A tall, gaunt, loosely made man, without an ounce of
+superfluous flesh on his body, his face burned a dark brick color by
+constant exposure to the weather, red hair and beard turning grey,
+honest blue eyes that look you ever in the face, huge hands with wrist
+bones like the shank of a ham, and a voice that hurled his salutations
+across two fields, he suggested the moor rather  than the drawing-room.
+But what a clever hand it was in an operation, as delicate as a woman's,
+and what a kindly voice it was in the humble room where the shepherd's
+wife was weeping by her man's bedside. He was “ill pitten the gither” to
+begin with, but many of his physical defects were the penalties of his
+work, and endeared him to the Glen. That ugly scar that cut into his
+right eyebrow and gave him such a sinister expression, was got one night
+Jess slipped on the ice and laid him insensible eight miles from home.
+His limp marked the big snowstorm in the fifties, when his horse missed
+the road in Glen Urtach, and they rolled together in a drift. MacLure
+escaped with a broken leg and the fracture of three ribs, but he never
+walked like other men again. He could not swing himself into the saddle
+without making two attempts and holding Jess's mane. Neither can you
+“warstle” through the peat bogs and snow drifts for forty winters
+without a touch of rheumatism. But they were honorable scars, and for
+such risks of life men get the Victoria Cross in other fields.
+
+[Illustration: “FOR SUCH RISKS OF LIFE MEN GET THE VICTORIA CROSS IN
+OTHER FIELDS”]
+
+MacLure got nothing but the secret affection of the Glen, which knew
+that none had ever done one-tenth as much for it as this ungainly,
+twisted, battered figure, and I have  seen a Drumtochty face
+soften at the sight of MacLure limping to his horse.
+
+Mr. Hopps earned the ill-will of the Glen for ever by criticising
+the doctor's dress, but indeed it would have filled any townsman with
+amazement. Black he wore once a year, on Sacrament Sunday, and, if
+possible, at a funeral; topcoat or waterproof never. His jacket and
+waistcoat were rough homespun of Glen Urtach wool, which threw off the
+wet like a duck's back, and below he was clad in shepherd's tartan
+trousers, which disappeared into unpolished riding boots. His shirt was
+grey flannel, and he was uncertain about a collar, but certain as to a
+tie which he never had, his beard doing instead, and his hat was soft
+felt of four colors and seven different shapes. His point of distinction
+in dress was the trousers, and they were the subject of unending
+speculation.
+
+“Some threep that he's worn thae eedentical pair the last twenty year,
+an' a' mind masel him gettin' a tear ahint, when he was crossin' oor
+palin', and the mend's still veesible.
+
+“Ithers declare 'at he's got a wab o' claith, and hes a new pair made in
+Muirtown aince in the twa year maybe, and keeps them in the garden till
+the new look wears aff.
+
+“For ma ain pairt,” Soutar used to declare, “a' canna mak up my mind,
+but there's ae thing sure, the Glen wud not like tae see him withoot
+them: it wud be a shock tae confidence. There's no muckle o' the check
+left, but ye can aye tell it, and when ye see thae breeks comin' in ye
+ken that if human pooer can save yir bairn's life it 'ill be dune.”
+
+The confidence of the Glen--and tributary states--was unbounded, and
+rested partly on long experience of the doctor's resources, and partly
+on his hereditary connection.
+
+“His father was here afore him,” Mrs. Macfadyen used to explain; “atween
+them they've hed the countyside for weel on tae a century; if MacLure
+disna understand oor constitution, wha dis, a' wud like tae ask?”
+
+For Drumtochty had its own constitution and a special throat disease, as
+became a parish which was quite self-contained between the woods and the
+hills, and not dependent on the lowlands either for its diseases or its
+doctors.
+
+“He's a skilly man, Doctor MacLure,” 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' he
+disna tribble the Kirk often.
+
+“He aye can tell what's wrang wi' a body, an' maistly he can put ye
+richt, and there's nae new-fangled wys wi' him: a blister for the
+ootside an' Epsom salts for the inside dis his wark, an' they say
+there's no an herb on the hills he disna ken.
+
+“If we're tae dee, we're tae dee; an' if we're tae live, we're tae live,”
+ concluded Elspeth, with sound Calvinistic logic; “but a'll say this
+for the doctor, that whether yir tae live or dee, he can aye keep up a
+sharp 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' misadventures
+of 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' he
+writes 'immediately' on a slip o' paper.
+
+“Weel, MacLure had been awa a' nicht wi' a shepherd's wife Dunleith wy,
+and he comes here withoot drawin' bridle, mud up tae the 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 and
+tire.
+
+“'It's nane o' us, doctor; it's Hopps' laddie; he's been eatin' ower
+mony 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, and
+I've never had one wink of sleep. You might have come a little quicker,
+that's all I've got to say.'
+
+“We've mair tae dae in Drumtochty than attend tae every bairn that hes a
+sair stomach,' and a' saw MacLure wes roosed.
+
+“'I'm astonished to hear you speak. Our doctor at home always says to
+Mrs. 'Opps “Look on me as a family friend, Mrs. 'Opps, and send for me
+though it be only a headache.”'
+
+“'He'd be mair sparin' o' his offers if he hed four and twenty mile tae
+look aifter. There's naethin' wrang wi' yir laddie but greed. Gie him a
+gude dose o' castor oil and stop his meat for a day, an' he 'ill be a'
+richt the morn.'
+
+“'He 'ill not take castor oil, doctor. We have given up those barbarous
+medicines.'
+
+“'Whatna kind o' medicines hae ye noo in the Sooth?'
+
+“'Well, you see, Dr. MacLure, we're homoeopathists, and I've my little
+chest here,' and oot Hopps comes wi' his boxy.
+
+“'Let's see't,' an' MacLure sits doon and taks oot the bit bottles, and
+he reads the names wi' a lauch every time.
+
+“'Belladonna; did ye ever hear the like? Aconite; it cowes a'. Nux
+Vomica. What next? Weel, ma mannie,' he says tae Hopps, 'it's a fine
+ploy, and ye 'ill better gang on wi' the Nux till it's dune, and gie him
+ony ither o' the sweeties he fancies.
+
+“'Noo, Hillocks, a' maun be aff tae see Drumsheugh's grieve, for he's
+doon wi' the fever, and it's tae be a teuch fecht. A' hinna time tae
+wait for dinner; gie me some cheese an' cake in ma haund, and Jess 'ill
+tak a pail o' meal an' water.
+
+“'Fee; a'm no wantin' yir fees, man; wi' that boxy ye dinna need a
+doctor; na, na, gie yir siller tae some puir body, Maister Hopps,' an'
+he was doon the road as hard as he cud lick.”
+
+His fees were pretty much what the folk chose to give him, and he
+collected them once a year at Kildrummie fair.
+
+“Well, doctor, what am a' awin' ye for the wife and bairn? Ye 'ill need
+three notes for that nicht ye stayed in the hoose an' a' the veesits.”
+
+“Havers,” MacLure would answer, “prices are low, a'm hearing; gie's
+thirty shillings.”
+
+“No, a'll no, or the wife 'ill tak ma ears off,” and it was settled for
+two pounds. Lord Kilspindie gave him a free house and fields, and one
+way or other, Drumsheugh told me, the doctor might get in about L150.
+a year, out of which he had to pay his old housekeeper's wages and a
+boy's, and keep two horses, besides the cost of instruments and books,
+which he bought through a friend in Edinburgh with much judgment.
+
+There was only one man who ever complained of the doctor's charges, and
+that was the new farmer of Milton, who was so good that he was above
+both churches, and held a meeting in his barn. (It was Milton the Glen
+supposed at first to be a Mormon, but I can't go into that now.) He
+offered MacLure a pound less than he asked, and two tracts, whereupon
+MacLure expressed his opinion of Milton, both from a theological and
+social standpoint, with such vigor and frankness that an attentive
+audience of Drumtochty men could hardly contain themselves. Jamie Soutar
+was selling his pig at the time, and missed the meeting, but he hastened
+to condole with Milton, who was complaining everywhere of the doctor's
+language.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“Ye did richt tae resist him; it 'ill maybe roose the Glen tae mak a
+stand; he fair hands them in bondage.
+
+“Thirty shillings for twal veesits, and him no mair than seeven mile
+awa, an' a'm telt there werena mair than four at nicht.
+
+“Ye 'ill hae the sympathy o' the Glen, for a' body kens yir as free wi'
+yir siller as yir tracts.
+
+“Wes't 'Beware o' gude warks' ye offered him? Man, ye 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 warld
+or that which is tae come.”
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                      THROUGH THE FLOOD.
+
+
+II
+
+THROUGH THE FLOOD
+
+
+Doctor MacLure did not lead a solemn procession from the sick bed to
+the dining-room, and give his opinion from the hearthrug with an air of
+wisdom bordering on the supernatural, because neither the Drumtochty
+houses nor his manners were on that large scale. He was accustomed to
+deliver himself in the yard, and to conclude his directions with one
+foot in the stirrup; but when he left the room where the life of Annie
+Mitchell was ebbing slowly away, our doctor said not one word, and at
+the sight of his face her husband's heart was troubled.
+
+He was a dull man, Tammas, who could not read the meaning of a sign, and
+labored under a perpetual disability of speech; but love was eyes to him
+that day, and a mouth.
+
+“Is't as bad as yir lookin', doctor? tell's the truth; wull Annie no
+come through?” and Tammas looked MacLure straight in the face, who never
+flinched his duty or said smooth things.
+
+“A' wud gie onything tae say Annie hes a chance, but a' daurna; a' doot
+yir gaein' tae lose her, Tammas.”
+
+MacLure was in the saddle, and as he gave his judgment, he laid his hand
+on Tammas's shoulder with one of the rare caresses that pass between
+men.
+
+[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 would
+have crushed the bones of a weakling. Drumtochty felt in such moments
+the brotherliness of this rough-looking man, and loved him.
+
+Tammas hid his face in Jess's mane, who looked round with sorrow in her
+beautiful eyes, for she had seen many tragedies, and in this silent
+sympathy the stricken man drank his cup, drop by drop.
+
+“A' wesna prepared for this, for a' aye thocht she wud live the
+langest.... She's younger than me by ten years, and never wes ill....
+We've been mairit twal year laist Martinmas, but it's juist like a year
+the day... A' wes never worthy o' her, the bonniest, snoddest (neatest),
+kindliest lass in the Glen.... A' never cud mak oot hoo she ever lookit
+at me, 'at hesna hed ae word tae say aboot her till it's ower late....
+She didna cuist up tae me that a' wesna worthy o' her, no her, but aye
+she said, 'Yir ma ain gudeman, and nane cud be kinder tae me.' ... An'
+a' wes minded tae be kind, but a' see noo mony little trokes a' micht
+hae dune for her, and noo the time is bye.... Naebody kens hoo patient
+she wes wi' me, and aye made the best o 'me, an' never pit me tae shame
+afore the fouk.... An' we never hed ae cross word, no ane in twal
+year.... We were mair nor man and wife, we were sweethearts a' the
+time.... Oh, ma bonnie lass, what 'ill the bairnies an' me dae withoot
+ye, 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 wrestled
+with his sorrow dry-eyed, for tears were denied Drumtochty men. Neither
+the doctor nor Jess moved hand or  foot, but their hearts were with
+their fellow creature, and at length the doctor made a sign to Marget
+Howe, 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 if
+Annie an' you hed never luved. Neither death nor time can pairt them
+that luve; there's naethin' in a' the warld sae strong as luve. If Annie
+gaes frae the 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 her
+nicht 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 in
+Drumtochty.”
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“Thank ye kindly, Marget; thae are gude words and true, an' ye hev the
+richt tae say them; but a' canna dae without seem' Annie comin' tae meet
+me 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 nae
+Annie in the hoose.
+
+“Can naethin' be dune, doctor? Ye savit Flora Cammil, and young
+Burnbrae, an' yon shepherd's wife Dunleith wy, an' we were a sae prood
+o' ye, an' pleased tae think that ye hed keepit deith frae anither hame.
+Can ye no think o' somethin' tae help Annie, and gie her back tae her
+man and bairnies?” and Tammas searched the doctor's face in the cold,
+weird light.
+
+“There's nae pooer on heaven or airth like luve,” Marget said to me
+afterwards; “it maks the weak strong and the dumb tae speak. Oor herts
+were as water afore Tammas's words, an' a' saw the doctor shake in his
+saddle. A' never kent till that meenut hoo he hed a share in a'body's
+grief, an' carried the heaviest wecht o' a' the Glen. A' peetied him wi'
+Tammas lookin' at him sae wistfully, as if he hed the keys o' life an'
+deith in his hands. But he wes honest, and wudna hold oot a false houp
+tae deceive a sore hert or win escape for 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 the
+warld, 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 an
+orphan, an' nae man wes better pleased when she got a gude husband, and
+a' helpit her wi' her fower bairns. A've naither wife nor bairns o' ma
+own, an' a' coont a' the fouk o' the Glen ma family. Div ye think a'
+wudna save Annie if I cud? If there wes a man in Muirtown 'at cud dae
+mair for her, a'd have him this verra nicht, but a' the doctors in
+Perthshire are helpless for this tribble.
+
+“Tammas, ma puir fallow, if it could avail, a' tell ye a' wud lay doon
+this auld worn-oot ruckle o' a body o' mine juist tae see ye baith
+sittin' at the fireside, an' the bairns roond ye, couthy an' canty
+again; but it's no tae be, Tammas, it's no tae be.”
+
+“When a' lookit at the doctor's face,” Marget said, “a' thocht him the
+winsomest man a' ever saw. He was transfigured that nicht, for a'm
+judging 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'm
+no ungratefu' tae you, doctor, for a' ye've dune and what ye said the
+nicht,” 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 skill
+that came of long experience, and the doctor held converse with her
+according to his wont.
+
+“Eh, Jess wumman, yon wes the hardest wark a' hae tae face, and a' wud
+raither hae ta'en ma chance o' anither row in a Glen Urtach drift than
+tell Tammas Mitchell his wife wes deein'.
+
+“A' said she cudna be cured, and it wes true, for there's juist ae man
+in the land fit for't, and they micht as weel try tae get the mune oot
+o' heaven. Sae a' said naethin' tae vex Tammas's hert, for it's heavy
+eneuch withoot regrets.
+
+“But it's hard, Jess, that money wull buy life after a', an' if Annie
+wes a duchess her man wudna lose her; but bein' only a puir cottar's
+wife, she maun dee afore the week's oot.
+
+“Gin we hed him the morn there's little doot she would be saved, for he
+hesna lost mair than five per cent, o' his cases, and they 'ill be puir
+toon's craturs, no strappin women like Annie.
+
+[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 a
+heavy day. But it wud be the grandest thing that was ever dune in the
+Glen in oor time if it could be managed by hook or crook.
+
+“We 'ill gang and see Drumsheugh, Jess; he's anither man sin' Geordie
+Hoo's deith, and he wes aye kinder than fouk kent;” and the doctor
+passed at a gallop through the village, whose lights shone across the
+white frost-bound road.
+
+“Come in by, doctor; a' heard ye on the road; ye 'ill hae been at Tammas
+Mitchell's; hoo's the gudewife? a' doot she's sober.”
+
+“Annie's deein', Drumsheugh, an' Tammas is like tae brak his hert.”
+
+“That's no lichtsome, doctor, no lichtsome ava, for a' dinna ken ony
+man in Drumtochty sae bund up in his wife as Tammas, and there's no
+a bonnier wumman o' her age crosses our kirk door than Annie, nor a
+cleverer at her wark. Man, ye 'ill need tae pit yir brains in steep. Is
+she clean beyond ye?”
+
+“Beyond me and every ither in the land but ane, and it wud cost a
+hundred guineas tae bring him tae Drumtochty.”
+
+[Illustration: ]
+
+“Certes, he's no blate; it's a fell chairge for a short day's work; but
+hundred or no hundred we'll hae him, an' no let Annie gang, and her no
+half her years.”
+
+“Are ye meanin' it, Drumsheugh?” and MacLure turned white below the tan.
+“William MacLure,” said Drumsheugh, in one of the few confidences that
+ever broke the Drumtochty reserve, “a'm a lonely man, wi' naebody o' ma
+ain blude tae care for me livin', or tae lift me intae ma coffin when
+a'm deid.
+
+“A' fecht awa at Muirtown market for an extra pound on a beast, or a
+shillin' on the quarter o' barley, an' what's the gude o't? Burnbrae
+gaes aff tae get a goon for his wife or a buke for his college laddie,
+an' Lachlan Campbell 'ill no leave the place noo without a ribbon for
+Flora.
+
+“Ilka man in the Klldrummie train has some bit fairin' his pooch for the
+fouk at hame that he's bocht wi' the siller he won.
+
+“But there's naebody tae be lookin' oot for me, an' comin' doon the road
+tae meet me, and daffin' (joking) wi' me about their fairing, or feeling
+ma pockets. Ou ay, a've seen it a' at ither hooses, though they tried
+tae hide it frae me for fear a' wud lauch at them. Me lauch, wi' ma
+cauld, empty hame!
+
+“Yir the only man kens, Weelum, that I aince luved the noblest wumman in
+the glen or onywhere, an' a' luve her still, but wi' anither luve noo.
+
+“She had given her heart tae anither, or a've thocht a' micht hae
+won her, though nae man be worthy o' sic a gift. Ma hert turned tae
+bitterness, but that passed awa beside the brier bush whar George Hoo
+lay yon sad simmer time. Some day a'll tell ye ma story, Weelum, for you
+an' me are auld freends, and will be till we dee.”
+
+MacLure felt beneath the table for Drumsheugh's hand, but neither man
+looked at the other.
+
+“Weel, a' we can dae noo, Weelum, gin we haena mickle brichtness in oor
+ain names, is tae keep the licht frae gaein' oot in anither hoose. Write
+the telegram, man, and Sandy  'ill send it aff frae Kildrummie this
+verra 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't
+a'--but a' haena mony pleasures, an' a' wud like tae hae ma ain share in
+savin' Annie's life.”
+
+Next morning a figure received Sir George on the Kildrummie platform,
+whom that famous surgeon took for a gillie, but who introduced himself
+as “MacLure of Drumtochty.” It seemed as if the East had come to meet
+the West when these two stood together, the one in travelling furs,
+handsome and distinguished, with his strong, cultured face and carriage
+of authority, a characteristic type of his profession; and the other
+more marvellously dressed than ever, for Drumsheugh's topcoat had been
+forced upon him for the occasion, his face and neck one redness with the
+bitter cold; rough and ungainly, yet not without some signs of power in
+his eye and voice, the most heroic type of his noble profession. MacLure
+compassed the precious arrival with observances till he was securely
+seated in Drumsheugh's dog cart--a vehicle that lent itself to
+history--with two full-sized plaids added to his equipment--Drumsheugh
+and Hillocks had both been requisitioned--and MacLure wrapped another
+plaid round a leather case, which was placed below the seat with such
+reverence as might be given to the Queen's regalia. Peter attended their
+departure full of interest, and as soon as they were in the fir woods
+MacLure explained that it would be an eventful journey.
+
+“It's a richt in here, for the wind disna get at the snaw, but the
+drifts are deep in the Glen, and th'ill be some engineerin' afore we get
+tae oor destination.”
+
+Four times they left the road and took their way over fields, twice they
+forced a passage through a slap in a dyke, thrice they used gaps in the
+paling which MacLure had made on his downward journey.
+
+[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 we
+daurna venture on it, sae we hev tae ford, and the snaw's been
+melting up Urtach way. There's nae doot the water's gey big, and it's
+threatenin' tae rise, but we 'ill win through wi' a warstle.
+
+“It micht be safer tae lift the instruments oot o' reach o' the water;
+wud ye mind haddin' them on yir knee till we're ower, an' keep firm in
+yir seat in case we come on a stane in the bed o' the river.”
+
+By this time they had come to the edge, and it was not a cheering sight.
+The Tochty had spread out over the meadows, and while they waited they
+could see it cover another two inches on the trunk of a tree. There are
+summer floods, when the water is brown and flecked with foam, but this
+was a winter flood, which is black and sullen, and runs in the centre
+with a strong, fierce, silent current. Upon the opposite side
+Hillocks stood to give directions by word and hand, as the ford was
+on his land, and none knew the Tochty better in all its ways.
+
+[Illustration: “THEY PASSED THROUGH THE SHALLOW WATER WITHOUT MISHAP”]
+
+They passed through the shallow water without mishap, save when the
+wheel struck a hidden stone or fell suddenly into a rut; but when they
+neared the body of the river MacLure halted, to give Jess a minute's
+breathing.
+
+“It 'ill tak ye a' yir time, lass, an' a' wud raither be on yir back;
+but ye never failed me yet, and a wumman's life is hangin' on the
+crossin'.”
+
+With the first plunge into the bed of the stream the water rose to the
+axles, and then it crept up to the shafts, so that the surgeon could
+feel it lapping in about his feet, while the dogcart began to quiver,
+and it seemed as if it were to be carried away. Sir George was as brave
+as most men, but he had never forded a Highland river in flood, and the
+mass of black water racing past beneath, before, behind him, affected
+his imagination and shook his nerves. He rose from his seat and ordered
+MacLure to turn back, declaring that he would be condemned utterly and
+eternally if he allowed himself to be drowned for any person.
+
+“Sit doon,” thundered MacLure; “condemned ye will be suner or later gin
+ye shirk yir duty, but through the water ye gang the day.”
+
+Both men spoke much more strongly and shortly, but this is what they
+intended to say, and it was MacLure that prevailed.
+
+Jess trailed her feet along the ground with cunning art, and held her
+shoulder against the stream; MacLure leant forward in his seat, a rein
+in each hand, and his eyes fixed on Hillocks, who was now standing up to
+the waist in the water, shouting directions and cheering on horse and
+driver.
+
+“Haud tae the richt, doctor; there's a hole yonder. Keep oot o't for ony
+sake.”
+
+[Illustration: “A HEAP OF SPEECHLESS MISERY BY THE KITCHEN FIRE.”]
+
+That's  heap of speechless misery by the kitchen fire, and carried
+him off to the barn, and spread some corn on the threshing floor and
+thrust a flail into his hands.
+
+“Noo we've tae begin, an' we 'ill no be dune for an' oor, and ye've tae
+lay on withoot stoppin' till a' come for ye, an' a'll shut the door tae
+haud in the noise, an' keep yir dog beside ye, for there maunna be a
+cheep aboot the hoose for Annie's sake.”
+
+“A'll dae onything ye want me, but if--if--”
+
+“A'll come for ye, Tammas, gin there be danger; but what are ye feared
+for wi' the Queen's ain surgeon here?”
+
+Fifty minutes did the flail rise and fall, save twice, when Tammas crept
+to the door and listened, the dog lifting his head and whining.
+
+It seemed twelve hours instead of one when the door swung back, and
+MacLure filled the  doorway, preceded by a great burst of light, for the
+sun had arisen on the snow.
+
+[Illustration: “MA AIN DEAR MAN”]
+
+His face was as tidings of great joy, and Elspeth told me that there was
+nothing like it to be seen that afternoon for glory, save the sun itself
+in the heavens.
+
+“A' never saw the marrow o't, Tammas, an' a'll never see the like again;
+it's a' ower, man, withoot a hitch frae beginnin' tae end, and she's
+fa'in' asleep as fine as ye like.”
+
+“Dis he think Annie ... 'ill live?”
+
+“Of coorse he dis, and be aboot the hoose inside a month; that's the gud
+o' bein' a clean-bluided, weel-livin'----”
+
+“Preserve ye, man, what's wrang wi' ye? it's a mercy a' keppit ye, or we
+wud hev hed anither job for Sir George.
+
+“Ye're a richt noo; sit doon on the strae. A'll come back in a whilie,
+an' ye 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 his
+lifetime to Tammas, but Annie whispered, “Ma ain dear man.”
+
+When the doctor placed the precious bag beside Sir George in our
+solitary first next morning, he laid a cheque beside it and was about to
+leave.
+
+“No, no,” said the great man. “Mrs. Macfayden and I were on the gossip
+last night, and I know the whole story about you and your friend.
+
+“You have some right to call me a coward, but I'll never let you count
+me a mean, miserly rascal,” and the cheque with Drumsheugh's painful
+writing 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 all
+the station heard.  “Give's another shake of your hand, MacLure; I'm
+proud to have met you; you are an honor to our profession. Mind the
+antiseptic dressings.”
+
+It was market day, but only Jamie Soutar and Hillocks had ventured down.
+
+“Did ye hear yon, Hillocks? hoo dae ye feel? A'll no deny a'm lifted.”
+
+Halfway to the Junction Hillocks had recovered, and began to grasp the
+situation.
+
+“Tell's what he said. A' wud like to hae it exact for Drumsheugh.”
+
+“Thae's the eedentical words, an' they're true; there's no a man in
+Drumtochty disna ken that, except ane.”
+
+“An' wha's thar, Jamie?”
+
+“It's Weelum MacLure himsel. Man, a've often girned that he sud fecht
+awa for us a', and maybe dee before he kent that he hed githered mair
+luve than ony man in the Glen.
+
+“'A'm prood tae hae met ye', says Sir George, an' him the greatest
+doctor in the land. 'Yir an 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 London
+doctor at Lord Kilspindie's shooting lodge looked in on his way from the
+moor, and declared it impossible for Saunders to live through the night.
+
+“I give him six hours, more or less; it is only a question of time,”
+ said the oracle, 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 to
+consolation.
+
+“Dinna greet like that, Bell wumman, sae lang as Saunders is still
+living'; a'll never give up houp, for ma pairt, till oor ain man says
+the word.
+
+“A' the doctors in the land dinna ken as muckle aboot us as Weelum
+MacLure, an' he's ill tae beat when he's trying tae save a man's life.”
+
+MacLure, on his coming, would say nothing, either weal or woe, till he
+had examined Saunders. Suddenly his face turned into iron before their
+eyes, and he looked like one encountering a merciless foe. For there was
+a feud between MacLure and a certain mighty power which had lasted for
+forty years in Drumtochty.
+
+[Illustration: “GAVE WAY UTTERLY”]
+
+“The London doctor said that Saunders wud sough awa afore mornin', did
+he? Weel, he's an authority on fevers an' sic like diseases, an' ought
+tae ken.
+
+“It's may be presumptous o' me tae differ frae him, and it wudna be
+verra respectfu' o' Saunders tae live aifter this opeenion. But Saunders
+wes awe thraun an' ill tae drive, an' he's as like as no tae gang his
+own gait.
+
+“A'm no meanin' tae reflect on sae clever a man, but he didna ken the
+seetuation. He can read fevers like a buik, but he never cam across sic
+a thing as the Drumtochty constitution a' his days.
+
+“Ye see, when onybody gets as low as puir Saunders here, it's juist
+a hand to hand wrastle atween the fever and his constitution, an' of
+coorse, if he had been a shilpit, stuntit, feckless effeegy o' a cratur,
+fed on tea an' made dishes and pushioned wi' bad air, Saunders wud hae
+nae chance; he wes boond tae gae oot like the snuff o' a candle.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“But Saunders hes been fillin' his lungs for five and thirty year wi'
+strong Drumtochty air, an' eatin' naethin' but kirny aitmeal, and
+drinkin' naethin' but fresh milk frae the coo, an' followin' the ploo
+through the new-turned sweet-smellin' earth, an' swingin' the scythe in
+haytime and harvest, till the legs an' airms o' him were iron, an' his
+chest wes like the cuttin' o' an oak tree.
+
+“He's a waesome sicht the nicht, but Saunders wes a buirdly man aince,
+and wull never lat his life be taken lichtly frae him. Na, na, he hesna
+sinned against Nature, and Nature 'ill stand by him noo in his oor o'
+distress.
+
+“A' daurna say yea, Bell, muckle as a' wud like, for this is an evil
+disease, cunnin, an' treacherous as the deevil himsel', but a' winna say
+nay, sae keep yir hert frae despair.
+
+“It wull be a sair fecht, but it 'ill be settled one wy or anither by
+sax o'clock the morn's morn. Nae man can prophecee hoo it 'ill end, but
+ae thing is certain, a'll no see deith tak a Drumtochty man afore his
+time if a' can help it.
+
+“Noo, Bell ma wumman, yir near deid wi' tire, an' nae wonder. Ye've dune
+a' ye cud for yir man, an' ye'll lippen (trust) him the nicht tae
+Drumsheugh an' me; we 'ill no fail him or you.
+
+“Lie doon an' rest, an' if it be the wull o' the Almichty a'll wauken ye
+in the mornin' tae see a livin' conscious man, an' if it be ither-wise
+a'll come for ye the suner, Bell,” and the big red hand went out to the
+anxious wife. “A' gie ye ma word.”
+
+Bell leant over the bed, and at the sight of Saunders' face a
+superstitious dread seized her.
+
+“See, doctor, the shadow of deith is on him that never lifts. A've seen
+it afore, on ma father an' mither. A' canna leave him, a' canna leave
+him.”
+
+[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 need
+tae be nurse the nicht, an' use sic things as we hev.
+
+“It 'ill be a lang nicht and anxious wark, but a' wud raither hae ye,
+auld freend, wi' me than ony man in the Glen. Ye're no feared tae gie a
+hand?”
+
+“Me feared? No, likely. Man, Saunders cam tae me a haflin, and hes been
+on Drumsheugh for twenty years, an' though he be a dour chiel, he's a
+faithfu' servant as ever lived. It's waesome tae see him lyin' there
+moanin' like some dumb animal frae mornin' tae nicht, an' no able tae
+answer his ain wife when she speaks.
+
+“Div ye think, Weelum, he hes a chance?”
+
+“That he hes, at ony rate, and it 'ill no be your blame or mine if he
+hesna mair.”
+
+While he was speaking, MacLure took off his coat and waistcoat and hung
+them on the back of the door. Then he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt
+and laid bare two arms that were nothing but bone and muscle.
+
+“It gar'd ma very blood rin faster tae the end of ma fingers juist tae
+look at him,” Drumsheugh expatiated afterwards to Hillocks, “for a' saw
+noo that there was tae be a stand-up fecht atween him an' deith for
+Saunders, and when a' thocht o' Bell an' her bairns, a' kent wha wud
+win.
+
+“'Aff wi' yir coat, Drumsheugh,' said MacLure; 'ye 'ill need tae bend
+yir back the nicht; gither a' the pails in the hoose and fill them at
+the spring, an' a'll come doon tae help ye wi' the carryin'.'”
+
+It was a wonderful ascent up the steep pathway from the spring to the
+cottage on its little knoll, the two men in single file, bareheaded,
+silent, solemn, each with a pail of water in either hand, MacLure
+limping painfully in front, Drumsheugh blowing behind; and when they
+laid down their burden in the sick room, where the bits of furniture had
+been put to a side and a large tub held the centre, Drumsheugh looked
+curiously at the doctor.
+
+[Illustration.]
+
+“No, a'm no daft; ye needna be feared; but yir tae get yir first lesson
+in medicine the nicht, an' if we win the battle ye can set up for yersel
+in the Glen.
+
+“There's twa dangers--that Saunders' strength fails, an' that the force
+o' the fever grows; and we have juist twa weapons.
+
+“Yon milk on the drawers' head an' the bottle of whisky is tae keep up
+the strength, and this cool caller water is tae keep doon the fever.
+
+“We 'ill cast oot the fever by the virtue o' the earth an' the water.”
+
+“Div ye mean tae pit Saunders in the tub?”
+
+“Ye hiv it noo, Drumsheugh, and that's hoo a' need yir help.”
+
+“Man, Hillocks,” Drumsheugh used to moralize, as often as he remembered
+that critical night, “it wes humblin' tae see hoo low sickness can bring
+a pooerfu' man, an' ocht tae keep us frae pride.”
+
+“A month syne there wesna a stronger man in the Glen than Saunders, an'
+noo he wes juist a bundle o' skin and bone, that naither saw nor heard,
+nor moved nor felt, that kent naethin' that was dune tae him.
+
+“Hillocks, a' wudna hae wished ony man tae hev seen Saunders--for it
+wull never pass frae before ma een as long as a' live--but a' wish a'
+the Glen hed stude by MacLure kneelin' on the floor wi' his sleeves up
+tae his oxters and waitin' on Saunders.
+
+“Yon big man wes as pitifu' an' gentle as a wumman, and when he laid the
+puir fallow in his bed again, he happit him ower as a mither dis her
+bairn.”
+
+Thrice it was done, Drumsheugh ever bringing up colder water from the
+spring, and twice MacLure was silent; but after the third time there was
+a gleam in his eye.
+
+“We're haudin' oor ain; we're no bein' maistered, at ony rate; mair a'
+canna say for three oors.
+
+“We 'ill no need the water again, Drumsheugh; gae oot and tak a breath
+o' air; a'm on gaird masel.”
+
+It was the hour before daybreak, and Drumsheugh wandered through fields
+he had trodden since childhood. The cattle lay sleeping in the pastures;
+their shadowy forms, with a patch of whiteness here and there, having a
+weird suggestion of death. He heard the burn running over the stones;
+fifty years ago he had made a dam that lasted till winter. The hooting
+of an owl made him start; one had frightened him as a boy so that he ran
+home to his mother--she died thirty years ago. The smell of ripe corn
+filled the air; it would soon be cut and garnered. He could see the dim
+outlines of his house, all dark and cold; no one he loved was beneath
+the roof. The lighted window in Saunders' cottage told where a man hung
+between life and death, but love was in that home. The futility of life
+arose before this lonely man, and overcame his heart with an
+indescribable sadness. What a vanity was all human labour, what a
+mystery all human life.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+But while he stood, subtle change came over the night, and the air
+trembled round him as if one had whispered. Drumsheugh lifted his head
+and looked eastwards. A faint grey stole over the distant horizon, and
+suddenly a cloud reddened before his eyes. The sun was not in sight, but
+was rising, and sending forerunners before his face. The cattle began
+to stir, a blackbird burst into song, and before Drumsheugh crossed the
+threshold of Saunders' house, the first ray of the sun had broken on a
+peak of the Grampians.
+
+MacLure left the bedside, and as the light of the candle fell on
+the doctor's face, Drumsheugh could see that it was going well with
+Saunders.
+
+“He's nae waur; an' it's half six noo; it's ower sune tae say mair, but
+a'm houpin' for the best. Sit doon and take a sleep, for ye're needin'
+'t, Drumsheugh, an', man, ye hae worked for it.”
+
+As he dozed off, the last thing Drumsheugh saw was the doctor sitting
+erect in his chair, a clenched fist resting on the bed, and his eyes
+already bright with the vision of victory.
+
+He awoke with a start to find the room flooded with the morning
+sunshine, and every trace of last night's work removed.
+
+The doctor was bending over the bed, and speaking to Saunders.
+
+“It's me, Saunders, Doctor MacLure, ye ken; dinna try tae speak or move;
+juist let this drap milk slip ower--ye 'ill be needin' yir breakfast,
+lad--and gang tae sleep again.”
+
+[Illustration: “A CLENCHED FIST RESTING ON THE BED”]
+
+Five minutes, and Saunders had fallen into a deep, healthy sleep, all
+tossing and moaning come to an end. Then MacLure stepped softly across
+the floor, picked up his coat and waistcoat, and went out at the door.
+Drumsheugh arose and followed him without a word. They passed through
+the little garden, sparkling with dew, and beside the byre, where Hawkie
+rattled her chain, impatient for Bell's coming, and by Saunders' little
+strip of corn ready for the scythe, till they reached an open field.
+There they came to a halt, and Doctor MacLure for once allowed himself
+to go.
+
+His coat he flung east and his waistcoat west, as far as he could hurl
+them, and it was plain he would have shouted had he been a complete mile
+from Saunders' room. Any less distance was useless for the adequate
+expression. He struck Drumsheugh a mighty blow that well-nigh levelled
+that substantial man in the dust and then the doctor of Drumtochty
+issued his bulletin.
+
+“Saunders wesna tae live through the nicht, but he's livin' this meenut,
+an' like to live.
+
+“He's got by the warst clean and fair, and wi' him that's as good as
+cure.
+
+“It' ill be a graund waukenin' for Bell; she 'ill no be a weedow yet,
+nor the bairnies fatherless.
+
+“There's nae use glowerin' at me, Drumsheugh, for a body's daft at a
+time, an' a' canna contain masel' and a'm no gaein' tae try.”
+
+Then it dawned on Drumsheugh that the doctor was attempting the Highland
+fling.
+
+“He's 'ill made tae begin wi',” Drumsheugh explained in the kirkyard
+next Sabbath, “and ye ken he's been terrible mishannelled by accidents,
+sae ye may think what like it wes, but, as sure as deith, o' a' the
+Hielan flings a' ever saw yon wes the bonniest.
+
+“A' hevna shaken ma ain legs for thirty years, but a' confess tae a turn
+masel. Ye may lauch an' ye like, neeburs, but the thocht o' Bell an'
+the news that wes waitin' her got the better o' me.”
+
+“THE DOCTOR WAS ATTEMPTING THE HIGHLAND FLING”
+
+Drumtochty did not laugh. Drumtochty looked as if it could have done
+quite 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 a
+michty mornin'.”
+
+“'We're twa auld fules,' says MacLure tae me, and he gaithers up his
+claithes. 'It wud set us better tae be tellin' Bell.'
+
+“She wes sleepin' on the top o' her bed wrapped in a plaid, fair worn
+oot wi' three weeks' nursin' o' Saunders, but at the first touch she was
+oot upon the floor.
+
+“'Is Saunders deein', doctor?' she cries. 'Ye promised tae wauken me;
+dinna tell me it's a' ower.'
+
+“'There's nae deein' aboot him, Bell; ye're no tae lose yir man this
+time, sae far as a' can see. Come ben an' jidge for yersel'.'
+
+“Bell lookit at Saunders, and the tears of joy fell on the bed like
+rain.
+
+“'The shadow's lifted,' she said; 'he's come back frae the mooth o' the
+tomb.
+
+“'A' prayed last nicht that the Lord wud leave Saunders till the laddies
+cud dae for themselves, an' thae words came intae ma mind, 'Weepin' may
+endure for a nicht, but joy cometh in the mornin'.”
+
+“'The Lord heard ma prayer, and joy hes come in the mornin',' an' she
+gripped the doctor's hand.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“'Ye've been the instrument, Doctor MacLure. Ye wudna gie him up, and ye
+did what nae ither cud for him, an' a've ma man the day, and the bairns
+hae their father.'
+
+“An' afore MacLure kent what she was daein', Bell lifted his hand to her
+lips an' kissed it.”
+
+“Did she, though?” cried Jamie. “Wha wud hae thocht there wes as muckle
+spunk in Bell?”
+
+“MacLure, of coorse, was clean 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' sic
+a thing in the parish, but we maun excuse Bell, neeburs; it wes an
+occasion by ordinar,” and Drumsheugh made Bell's apology to Drumtochty
+for such an excess of feeling.
+
+“A' see naethin' tae excuse,” insisted Jamie, who was in great fettle
+that Sabbath; “the doctor hes never been burdened wi' fees, and a'm
+judgin' he coonted a wumman's gratitude that he saved frae weedowhood
+the 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 telt
+the minister hoo the doctor focht aucht oors for Saunders' life, an'
+won, and ye never saw a man sae carried. He walkit up and doon the room
+a' the time, and every other meenut he blew his nose like a trumpet.
+
+“'I've a cold in my head to-night, Drumsheugh,' says he; 'never mind
+me.'”
+
+“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 for
+good, and that Thou wouldst restore them again to health and strength,”
+ was the familiar petition of every Sabbath.
+
+The congregation waited in a silence that might be heard, and were not
+disappointed that morning, for the minister continued:
+
+“Especially we tender Thee hearty thanks that Thou didst spare Thy
+servant who was brought down into the dust of death, and hast given him
+back to his wife and children, and unto that end didst wonderfully bless
+the skill of him who goes out and in amongst us, the beloved physician
+of this parish and adjacent districts.”
+
+“Didna a' tell ye, neeburs?” said Jamie, as they stood at the kirkyard
+gate before dispersing; “there's no a man in the coonty cud hae dune
+it better. 'Beloved physician,' an' his 'skill,' tae, an' bringing in
+'adjacent districts'; that's Glen Urtach; it wes handsome, and the
+doctor earned it, ay, every word.
+
+“It's an awfu' peety he didna hear you; but dear knows whar he is the
+day, maist likely up--”
+
+Jamie stopped suddenly at the sound of a horse's feet, and there, coming
+down the avenue of beech trees that made a long vista from the kirk
+gate, they saw the doctor and Jess.
+
+One thought flashed through the minds of the fathers of the
+commonwealth.
+
+It ought to be done as he passed, and it would be done if it were not
+Sabbath. Of course it was out of the question on Sabbath.
+
+The doctor is now distinctly visible, riding after his fashion.
+
+There was never such a chance, if it were only Saturday; and each man
+reads his own regret in his neighbor's face.
+
+The doctor is nearing them rapidly; they can imagine the shepherd's
+tartan.
+
+Sabbath or no Sabbath, the Glen cannot let him pass without some tribute
+of their pride.
+
+Jess 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, but
+Tammas Mitchell carrying all before him, for he had found at last an
+expression for his feelings that rendered speech unnecessary.
+
+It was a solitary experience for horse and rider, and Jess bolted
+without delay. But the sound followed and surrounded them, and as they
+passed the corner of the kirkyard, a figure waved his college cap over
+the wall and gave a cheer on his own account.
+
+“God bless you, doctor, and well done.”
+
+“If it isna the minister,” cried Drumsheugh, “in his goon an' bans, tae
+think o' that; but a' respeck him for it.”
+
+Then Drumtochty became self-conscious, and went home in confusion of
+face and unbroken silence, except Jamie Soutar, who faced his neighbors
+at the parting of the ways without shame.
+
+“A' wud dae it a' ower again if a' hed the chance; he got naethin' but
+his due.” It was two miles before Jess composed her mind, and the doctor
+and she could discuss it quietly together.
+
+“A' can hardly believe ma ears, Jess, an' the Sabbath tae; their verra
+jidgment hes gane frae the fouk o' Drumtochty.
+
+“They've heard about Saunders, a'm thinkin', wumman, and they're pleased
+we brocht him roond; he's fairly on the mend, ye ken, noo.
+
+“A' never expeckit the like o' this, though, and it wes juist a wee
+thingie mair than a' cud hae stude.
+
+“Ye hev yir share in't tae, lass; we've hed mony a hard nicht and day
+thegither, an' yon wes oor reward. No mony men in this warld 'ill ever
+get a better, for it cam frae the hert o' honest fouk.”
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                    THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY.
+
+
+IV
+
+THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY
+
+Drumtochty had a vivid recollection of the winter when Dr. MacLure was
+laid up for two months with a broken leg, and the Glen was dependent on
+the dubious ministrations of the Kildrummie doctor. Mrs. Macfayden
+also pretended to recall a “whup” of some kind or other he had in the
+fifties, but this was considered to be rather a pyrotechnic display of
+Elspeth's superior memory than a serious statement of fact. MacLure
+could not have ridden through the snow of forty winters without
+suffering, yet no one ever heard him complain, and he never pled
+illness to any messenger by night or day.
+
+“It took me,” said Jamie Soutar to Milton afterwards, “the feck o' ten
+meenuts tae howk him 'an' Jess oot ae snawy nicht when Drums turned bad
+sudden, and if he didna try to excuse himself for no hearing me at aince
+wi' some story aboot juist comin' in frae Glen Urtach, and no bein' in
+his bed for the laist twa nichts.
+
+“He wes that carefu' o' himsel an' lazy that if it hedna been for the
+siller, a've often thocht, Milton, he wud never hae dune a handstroke o'
+wark in the Glen.
+
+“What scunnered me wes the wy the bairns were ta'en in wi' him. Man,
+a've seen him tak a wee laddie on his knee that his ain mither cudna
+quiet, an' lilt 'Sing a song o' saxpence' till the bit mannie would be
+lauchin' 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' hoo
+he aye hed a couthy word for sick fouk. Weemen hae nae discernment,
+Milton; tae hear them speak ye wud think MacLure hed been a releegious
+man like yersel, although, as ye said, he wes little mair than a Gallio.
+
+“Bell Baxter was haverin' awa in the shop tae sic an extent aboot the wy
+MacLure brocht roond Saunders when he hed the fever that a' gied oot at
+the door, a' wes that disgusted, an' a'm telt when Tammas Mitchell heard
+the news in the smiddy he wes juist on the greeting.
+
+“The smith said that he wes thinkin' o' Annie's tribble, but ony wy a'
+ca' it rael bairnly. It's no like Drumtochty; ye're setting an example,
+Milton, wi' yir composure. But a' mind ye took the doctor's meesure as
+sune as ye cam intae the pairish.”
+
+It is the penalty of a cynic that he must have some relief for his
+secret grief, and Milton began to weary of life in Jamie's hands
+during those days.
+
+Drumtochty was not observant in the matter of health, but they had grown
+sensitive about Dr. MacLure, and remarked in the kirkyard all summer
+that he was failing.
+
+“He wes aye spare,” said Hillocks, “an' he's been sair twisted for the
+laist twenty year, but a' never mind him booed till the year. An' he's
+gaein' intae sma' buke (bulk), an' a' dinna like that, neeburs.
+
+“The Glen wudna dae weel withoot Weelum MacLure, an' he's no as young as
+he wes. Man, Drumsheugh, ye micht wile him aff tae the saut water atween
+the neeps and the hairst. He's been workin' forty year for a holiday,
+an' it's aboot due.”
+
+Drumsheugh was full of tact, and met MacLure quite by accident on the
+road.
+
+“Saunders'll no need me till the shearing begins,” he explained to the
+doctor, “an' a'm gaein' tae Brochty for a turn o' the hot baths; they're
+fine for the rheumatics.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“Wull ye no come wi' me for auld lang syne? it's lonesome for a solitary
+man, an' it wud dae ye gude.”
+
+“Na, na, Drumsheugh,” said MacLure, who understood perfectly, “a've dune
+a' thae years withoot a break, an' a'm laith (unwilling) tae be takin'
+holidays at the tail end.
+
+“A'll no be mony months wi' ye a' thegither noo, an' a'm wanting tae
+spend a' the time a' hev in the Glen. Ye see yersel that a'll sune be
+getting ma lang rest, an' a'll no deny that a'm wearyin' for it.”
+
+As autumn passed into winter, the Glen noticed that the doctor's hair
+had turned grey, and that his manner had lost all its roughness. A
+feeling of secret gratitude filled their hearts, and they united in a
+conspiracy of attention. Annie Mitchell knitted a huge comforter in red
+and white, which the doctor wore in misery for one whole day, out of
+respect for Annie, and then hung it in his sitting-room as a wall
+ornament. Hillocks used to intercept him with hot drinks, and one
+drifting day compelled him to shelter till the storm abated. Flora
+Campbell brought a wonderful compound of honey and whiskey, much tasted
+in Auchindarroch, for his cough, and the mother of young Burnbrae filled
+his cupboard with black jam, as a healing measure. Jamie Soutar seemed
+to have an endless series of jobs in the doctor's direction, and looked
+in “juist tae rest himsel” in the kitchen.
+
+MacLure had been slowly taking in the situation, and at last he
+unburdened himself one night to Jamie.
+
+“What ails the fouk, think ye? for they're aye lecturin' me noo tae
+tak care o' the weet and tae wrap masel up, an' there's no a week but
+they're sendin' bit presents tae the house, till a'm fair ashamed.”
+
+“Oo, a'll explain that in a meenut,” answered Jamie, “for a' ken the
+Glen 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 dee
+afore their  freends' eyes withoot a fecht, an' refusin' tae gang tae a
+puir wumman in her tribble, an' frichtenin' the bairns--no, a'm no
+dune--and scourgin' us wi' fees, and livin' yersel' on the fat o' the
+land.
+
+“Ye've been carryin' on this trade ever sin yir father dee'd, and the
+Glen didna notis. But ma word, they've fund ye oot at laist, an' they're
+gaein' tae mak ye suffer for a' yir ill usage. Div ye understand noo?”
+ said Jamie, savagely.
+
+For a while MacLure was silent, and then he only said:
+
+“It's little a' did for the puir bodies; but ye hev a gude hert, Jamie,
+a rael good hert.”
+
+It was a bitter December Sabbath, and the fathers were settling the
+affairs of the parish ankle deep in snow, when MacLure's old housekeeper
+told Drumsheugh that the doctor was not able to rise, and wished to see
+him in the afternoon. “Ay, ay,” said Hillocks, shaking his head, and
+that day Drumsheugh omitted four pews with the ladle, while Jamie was so
+vicious on the way home that none could endure him.
+
+Janet had lit a fire in the unused grate, and hung a plaid by the window
+to break the power of the cruel north wind, but the bare room with its
+half-a-dozen bits of furniture and a worn strip of carpet, and the
+outlook upon the snow drifted up to the second pane of the window and
+the black firs laden with their icy burden, sent a chill to Drumsheugh's
+heart.
+
+The doctor had weakened sadly, and could hardly lift his head, but his
+face lit up at the sight of his visitor, and the big hand, which was now
+quite refined in its whiteness, came out from the bed-clothes with the
+old warm grip.
+
+[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, which
+he had not heard since his mother's death, gave him a “grue” (shiver),
+as if one had spoken from the other world.
+
+“It's maist awfu' tae hear ye speakin' aboot deein', Weelum; a' canna
+bear it. We 'ill hae the Muirtown doctor up, an' ye 'ill be aboot again
+in nae time.
+
+“Ye hevna ony sair tribble; ye're juist trachled wi' hard wark an'
+needin' a rest. Dinna say ye're gaein' tae leave us, Weelum; we canna
+dae withoot ye in Drumtochty;” and Drumsheugh looked wistfully for some
+word of hope.
+
+“Na, na, Paitrick, naethin' can be dune, an' it's ower late tae send for
+ony doctor. There's a knock that canna be mista'en, an' a' heard it last
+night. A've focht deith for ither fouk mair than forty year, but ma ain
+time hes come at laist.
+
+“A've nae tribble worth mentionin'--a bit titch o' bronchitis--an' a've
+hed a graund constitution; but a'm fair worn oot, Paitrick; that's ma
+complaint, an' its past curin'.”
+
+Drumsheugh went over to the fireplace, and for a while did nothing but
+break up the smouldering peats, whose smoke powerfully affected his nose
+and eyes.
+
+[Illustration: “DRUMSHEUGH LOOKED WISTFULLY”]
+
+“When ye're ready, Paitrick, there's twa or three little trokes a' wud
+like ye tae look aifter, an' a'll tell ye aboot them as lang's ma head's
+clear.
+
+“A' didna keep buiks, as ye ken, for a' aye hed a guid memory, so
+naebody 'ill be harried for money aifter ma deith, and ye 'ill hae nae
+accoonts tae collect.
+
+“But the fouk are honest in Drumtochty, and they 'ill be offerin' ye
+siller, an' a'll gie ye ma mind aboot it. Gin it be a puir body, tell
+her tae keep it and get a bit plaidie wi' the money, and she 'ill maybe
+think o' her auld doctor at a time. Gin it be a bien (well-to-do) man,
+tak half of what he offers, for a Drumtochty man wud scorn to be mean in
+sic circumstances; and if onybody needs a doctor 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 still
+tae 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's
+eyes--“tae say neathin' o' the Highlan' fling.”
+
+The remembrance of that great victory came upon Drumsheugh, and tried
+his fortitude.
+
+“What 'ill become o's when ye're no here tae gie a hand in time o' need?
+we 'ill tak ill wi' a stranger that disna ken ane o's frae anither.”
+
+“It's a' for the best, Paitrick, an' ye 'ill see that in a whilie. A've
+kent fine that ma day wes ower, an' that ye sud hae a younger man.
+
+“A' did what a' cud tae keep up wi' the new medicine, but a' hed little
+time for readin', an' nane for traivellin'.
+
+“A'm the last o' the auld schule, an' a' ken as weel as onybody thet a'
+wesna sae dainty an' fine-mannered as the town doctors. Ye 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,” interrupted
+Drumsheugh, huskily, “a'll leave the hoose; a' canna stand it.”
+
+“It's the truth, Paitrick, but we 'ill gae on wi' our wark, far a'm
+failin' fast.
+
+“Gie Janet ony sticks of furniture she needs tae furnish a hoose,
+and sell a' thing else tae pay the wricht (undertaker) an' bedrel
+(grave-digger). If the new doctor be a young laddie and no verra rich,
+ye micht let him hae the buiks an' instruments; it 'ill aye be a help.
+
+“But a' wudna like ye tae sell Jess, for she's been a faithfu' servant,
+an' a freend tae. There's a note or twa in that drawer a' savit, an'
+if ye kent ony man that wud gie her a bite o' grass and a sta' in his
+stable till she followed her maister--'
+
+“Confoond ye, Weelum,” broke out Drumsheugh; “its doonricht cruel o' ye
+to speak like this tae me. Whar wud Jess gang but tae Drumsheugh? she
+'ill hae her run o' heck an' manger sae lang as she lives; the Glen
+wudna like tae see anither man on Jess, and nae man 'ill ever touch the
+auld mare.”
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“Dinna mind me, Paitrick, for a” expeckit this; but ye ken we're no
+verra gleg wi' oor tongues in Drumtochty, an' dinna tell a' that's in
+oor hearts.
+
+“Weel, that's a' that a' mind, an' the rest a' leave tae yersel'. A've
+neither kith nor kin tae bury me, sae you an' the neeburs 'ill need tae
+lat me doon; but gin Tammas Mitchell or Saunders be stannin' near and
+lookin' as if they wud like a cord, gie't tae them, Paitrick. They're
+baith dour chiels, and haena muckle tae say, but Tammas hes a graund
+hert, and there's waur fouk in the Glen than Saunders.
+
+“A'm gettin' drowsy, an' a'll no be able tae follow ye sune, a' doot;
+wud ye read a bit tae me afore a' fa' ower?
+
+“Ye 'ill find ma mither's Bible on the drawers' heid, but ye 'ill need
+tae come close tae the bed, for a'm no hearin' or seein' sae weel as a'
+wes when ye cam.”
+
+Drumsheugh put on his spectacles and searched for a comfortable
+Scripture, while the light of the lamp fell on his shaking hands and the
+doctor's face where the shadow was now settling.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“Ma mither aye wantit this read tae her when she wes sober” (weak), and
+Drumsheugh began, “In My Father's house are many mansions,” but MacLure
+stopped him.
+
+“It's a bonnie word, an' yir mither wes a sanct; but it's no for the
+like o' me. It's ower gude; a' daurna tak it.
+
+“Shut the buik an' let it open itsel, an' ye 'ill get a bit a've been
+readin' every nicht the laist month.”
+
+Then Drumsheugh found the Parable wherein the Master tells us what God
+thinks of a Pharisee and of a penitent sinner, till he came to the
+words: “And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so
+much as his eyes to heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be
+merciful to me a sinner.”
+
+“That micht hae been written for me, Paitrick, or ony ither auld sinner
+that hes feenished his life, an' hes naethin' tae say for himsel'.
+
+“It wesna easy for me tae get tae kirk, but a' cud hae managed wi' a
+stretch, an' a' used 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 I
+wes sorry, an' a'm houpin' that the Almichty 'ill hae mercy on me.
+
+“Cud ye ... pit up a bit prayer, Paitrick?”
+
+“A' haena the words,” said Drumsheugh in great distress; “wud ye like's
+tae send for the minister?”
+
+“It's no the time for that noo, an' a' wud rather hae yersel'--juist
+what's in yir heart, Paitrick: the Almichty 'ill ken the lave (rest)
+Himsel'.”
+
+So Drumsheugh knelt and prayed with many pauses.
+
+“Almichty God ... dinna be hard on Weelum MacLure, for he's no been hard
+wi' onybody in Drumtochty.... Be kind tae him as he's been tae us a' for
+forty year.... We're a' sinners afore Thee.... Forgive him what he's
+dune wrang, an' dinna cuist it up tae him.... Mind the fouk he's helpit
+.... the wee-men an' bairnies.... an' gie him a welcome hame, for he's
+sair needin't after a' his wark.... Amen.”
+
+“Thank ye, Paitrick, and gude nicht tae ye. Ma ain true freend, gie's
+yir hand, for a'll maybe no ken ye again.
+
+“Noo a'll say ma mither's prayer and hae a sleep, but ye 'ill no leave
+me till a' is ower.”
+
+Then he repeated as he had done every night of his life:
+
+  “This night I lay me down to sleep,
+  I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
+  And if I die before I wake,
+  I pray the Lord my soul to take.”
+
+He was sleeping quietly when the wind drove the snow against the window
+with a sudden “swish;” and he instantly awoke, so to say, in his sleep.
+Some one needed him.
+
+“Are ye frae Glen Urtach?” and an unheard voice seemed to have answered
+him.
+
+“Worse is she, an' suffering awfu'; that's no lichtsome; ye did richt
+tae come.
+
+“The front door's drifted up; gang roond tae the back, an' ye 'ill get
+intae the kitchen; a'll be ready in a meenut.
+
+“Gie's a hand wi' the lantern when a'm saidling Jess, an' ye needna come
+on till daylicht; a' ken the road.”
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Then he was away in his sleep on some errand of mercy, and struggling
+through the storm. “It's a coorse nicht, Jess, an' heavy traivellin';
+can ye see afore ye, lass? for a'm clean confused wi' the snaw; bide a
+wee till a' find the diveesion o' the roads; it's aboot here back or
+forrit.
+
+“Steady, lass, steady, dinna plunge; i'ts a drift we're in, but ye're no
+sinkin'; ... up noo; ... there ye are on the road again.
+
+“Eh, it's deep the nicht, an' hard on us baith, but there's a puir
+wumman micht dee if we didna warstle through; ... that's it; ye ken fine
+what a'm sayin.'
+
+“We 'ill hae tae leave the road here, an' tak tae the muir. Sandie 'ill
+no can leave the wife alane tae meet us; ... feel for yersel” lass, and
+keep oot o' the holes.
+
+“Yon's the hoose black in the snaw. 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 lang
+aifter that; we're ready for oor beds, Jess.... ay, ye like a clap at a
+time; mony a mile we've gaed hegither.
+
+“Yon's the licht in the kitchen window; nae wonder ye're nickering
+(neighing).... it's been a stiff journey; a'm tired, lass.... a'm tired
+tae deith,” and the voice died into silence.
+
+Drumsheugh held his friend's hand, which now and again tightened in his,
+and as he watched, a change came over the face on the pillow beside him.
+The lines of weariness 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 to
+his boyhood.
+
+[Illustration: “SHE'S CARRYIN' A LIGHT IN HER HAND”]
+
+“The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want,”  he repeated, till he came to
+the 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 haed
+ready when she cam.
+
+“'A'll come afore ye gang tae sleep, Wullie, but ye 'ill no get yir kiss
+unless ye can feenish the psalm.'
+
+“And ... in God's house ... for evermore my ... hoo dis it rin? a canna
+mind the next word ... my, my--
+
+“It's ower dark noo tae read it, an' mither 'ill sune be comin.”
+
+Drumsheugh, in an agony, whispered into his ear, “'My dwelling-place,'
+Weelum.”
+
+“That's it, that's it a' noo; wha said it?
+
+  “And in God's house for evermore
+  My dwelling-place shall be.
+
+“A'm ready noo, an' a'll get ma kiss when mither comes; a' wish she wud
+come, for a'm tired an' wantin' tae sleep.
+
+“Yon's her step ... an' she's carryin' a licht in her hand; a' see it
+through the door.
+
+“Mither! a' kent ye wudna forget yir laddie 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 be
+asleep.”
+
+The grey morning light fell on Drumsheugh, still holding his friend's
+cold hand, and staring at a hearth where the fire had died down into
+white ashes; but the peace on the doctor's face was of one who rested
+from his labours.
+
+
+
+
+
+                  THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN
+
+
+V.
+
+THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN.
+
+Dr. MacLure was buried during the great snowstorm which is still spoken
+of, and will remain the standard of snowfall in Drumtochty for the
+century. The snow was deep on the Monday, and the men that gave notice
+of his funeral had hard work to reach the doctor's distant patients.
+On Tuesday morning it began to fall again in heavy, fleecy flakes, and
+continued till Thursday, and then on Thursday the north wind rose and
+swept the snow into the hollows of the roads that went to the upland
+farms, and built it into a huge bank at the mouth of Glen Urtach, and
+laid it across our main roads in drifts of every size and the most
+lovely shapes, and filled up crevices in the hills to the depth of fifty
+feet.
+
+On Friday morning the wind had sunk to passing gusts that powdered
+your coat with white, and the sun was shining on one of those winter
+landscapes no townsman can imagine and no countryman ever forgets. The
+Glen, from end to end and side to side, was clothed in a glistering
+mantle white as no fuller on earth could white it, that flung its skirts
+over the clumps of trees and scattered farmhouses, and was only divided
+where the Tochty ran with black, swollen stream. The great moor rose and
+fell in swelling billows of snow that arched themselves over the burns,
+running deep in the mossy ground, and hid the black peat bogs with a
+thin, treacherous crust.
+
+[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 our
+lower Grampians, we caught glimpses of the distant peaks that lifted
+their heads in holiness unto God.
+
+It seemed to me a fitting day for William MacLure's funeral, rather than
+summer time, with its flowers and golden corn. He had not been a soft
+man, nor had he lived an easy life, and now he was to be laid to rest
+amid the austere majesty of winter, yet in the shining of the sun. Jamie
+Soutar, with whom I toiled across the Glen, did not think with me, but
+was gravely concerned.
+
+“Nae doot it's a graund sicht; the like o't is no gien tae us twice in
+a generation, an' nae king wes ever carried tae his tomb in sic a
+cathedral.
+
+“But it's the fouk a'm conseederin', an' hoo they'll win through; it's
+hard eneuch for them 'at's on the road, an' it's clean impossible for
+the 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-bodied
+men missin'.
+
+“A' wes mad at them, because they never said onything when he wes
+leevin', but they felt for a' that what he hed dune, an', a' think, he
+kent it afore he deed.
+
+“He hed juist ae faut, tae ma thinkin', for a' never jidged the waur
+o' him for his titch of rochness--guid trees hae gnarled bark--but he
+thotched ower little o' himsel'.
+
+“Noo, gin a' hed asked him hoo mony fouk wud come tae his beerial, he
+wud hae said, 'They 'ill be Drumsheugh an' yersel', an' may be twa or
+three neeburs besides the minister,' an' the fact is that nae man in oor
+time wud hae sic a githerin' if it werena for the storm.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“Ye see,” said Jamie, who had been counting heads all morning, “there's
+six shepherds in Glen Urtaeh--they're shut up fast; an' there micht hae
+been a gude half dizen frae Dunleith wy, an' a'm telt there's nae road;
+an' there's the heich Glen, nae man cud cross the muir the day, an' it's
+aucht mile round;” and Jamie proceeded to review the Glen in every
+detail of age, driftiness of road and strength of  body, till we arrived
+at the doctor's cottage, when he had settled on a reduction of fifty
+through stress of weather.
+
+[Illustration: “ANE OF THEM GIED OWER THE HEAD IN A DRIFT, AND HIS
+NEEBURS HAD TAE PU' HIM OOT,”]
+
+Drumsheugh was acknowledged as chief mourner by the Glen, and received
+us at the gate with a labored attempt at everyday manners.
+
+“Ye've hed heavy traivellin', a' doot, an' ye 'ill be cauld. It's hard
+weather for the sheep an' a'm thinkin' this 'ill be a feeding storm.
+
+“There wes nae use trying tae dig oot the front door yestreen, for it
+wud hae been drifted up again before morning. We've cleared awa the snow
+at the back for the prayer; ye 'ill get in at the kitchen door.
+
+“There's a puckle Dunleith men-----”
+
+“Wha?” cried Jamie in an instant.
+
+“Dunleith men,” said Drumsheugh.
+
+“Div ye mean they're here, whar are they?”
+
+“Drying themsels at the fire, an' no withoot need; ane of them gied
+ower the head in a drift, and his neeburs hed tae pu' him oot.
+
+“It took them a gude fower oors tae get across, an' it wes coorse wark;
+they likit him weel doon that wy, an', Jamie, man”--here Drumsheugh's
+voice changed its note, and his public manner disappeared--“what div ye
+think o' this? every man o' them has on his blacks.”
+
+“It's mair than cud be expeckit” said Jamie; “but whar dae yon men come
+frae, Drumsheugh?”
+
+Two men in plaids were descending the hill behind the doctor's cottage,
+taking three feet at a stride, and carrying long staffs in their hands.
+
+“They're Glen Urtach men, Jamie, for are o' them wes at Kildrummie fair
+wi' sheep, but hoo they've wun doon passes me.”
+
+“It canna be, Drumsheugh,” said Jamie, greatly excited. “Glen Urtach's
+steikit up wi' sna like a locked door.
+
+[Illustration: “TWO MEN IN PLAIDS WERE DESCENDING THE HILL”]
+
+“Ye're no surely frae the Glen, lads?” as the men leaped the dyke and
+crossed to the back door, the snow falling from their plaids as they
+walked.
+
+“We're that an' nae mistak, but a' thocht we wud be lickit ae place, eh,
+Charlie? a'm no sae weel acquant wi' the hill on this side, an' there
+wes some kittle (hazardous) drifts.”
+
+“It wes grand o' ye tae mak the attempt,” said Drumsheugh, “an' a'm gled
+ye're safe.”
+
+“He cam through as bad himsel' tae help ma wife,” was Charlie's reply.
+
+“They're three mair Urtach shepherds 'ill come in by sune; they're frae
+Upper Urtach an' we saw them fording the river; ma certes it took them
+a' their time, for it wes up tae their waists and rinnin' like a mill
+lade, but they jined hands and cam ower fine.” And the Urtach men went
+in to the fire. The Glen began to arrive in twos and threes, and Jamie,
+from a point of vantage at the gate, and under an appearance of utter
+indifference, checked his roll till even he was satisfied.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“Weelum MacLure 'ill hae the beerial he deserves in spite o' sna and
+drifts; it passes a' tae see hoo they've githered frae far an' near.
+
+“A'm thinkin' ye can colleck them for the minister noo, Drumsheugh.
+A'body's here 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 Adam
+Ross absent, detained by force, being eighty-two years of age.
+
+“It wud hae been temptin' Providence tae cross the muir,” Whinnie
+explained, “and it's a fell stap roond; a' doot we're laist.”
+
+“See, Jamie,” said Drumsheugh, as he went to the house, “gin there be
+ony antern body in sicht afore we begin; we maun mak allooances the day
+wi' twa feet o' sna on the grund, tae say naethin' o' drifts.”
+
+“There's something at the 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 a
+dogcairt 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 ony
+ither doctors. A' ken thae horses, and wha's ahind them. Quick, man,
+Hillocks, stop the fouk, and tell Drumsheugh tae come oot, for Lord
+Kilspindie hes come up frae Muirtown Castle.”
+
+Jamie himself slipped behind, and did not wish to be seen.
+
+“It's the respeck he's gettin' the day frae high an' low,” was Jamie's
+husky apology; “tae think o' them fetchin' their wy doon frae Glen
+Urtach, and toiling roond frae the heich Glen, an' his Lordship driving
+through the drifts a' the road frae Muirtown, juist tae honour Weelum
+MacLure's beerial.
+
+[Illustration: “TWA HORSES, ANE AFORE THE ITHER”]
+
+“It's nae ceremony the day, ye may lippen tae it; it's the hert brocht
+the fouk, an' ye  can see it in their faces; ilka man hes his ain
+reason, an' he's thinkin' on't though he's speakin' o' naethin' but the
+storm; he's mindin' the day Weelum pued him 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 fouk
+canna say muckle, it's an awfu' peety, and they 'ill dae their best tae
+show naethin', but a' can read it a' in their een.
+
+“But wae's me”--and Jamie broke down utterly behind a fir tree, so
+tender a thing is a cynic's heart--“that fouk 'ill tak a man's best wark
+a' his days without a word an' no dae him honour till he dees. Oh, if
+they hed only githered like this juist aince when he wes livin', an' lat
+him 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 wild
+passage in the snow-covered wheels, a broken shaft tied with rope, a
+twisted lamp, and the panting horses, pulled up between two rows of
+farmers, 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's
+how I'm half an hour late; it took us four hours' stiff work for sixteen
+miles, mostly in the drifts, of course.”
+
+“It wes gude o' yir lordship, tae mak sic an effort, an' the hale Glen
+wull be gratefu' tae ye, for ony kindness tae him is kindness tae us.”
+
+[Illustration: HE HAD LEFT HIS OVERCOAT AND WAS IN BLACK]
+
+“You make too much of it, Drumsheugh,” and the clear, firm voice was
+heard of all; “it would have taken more than a few snow drifts to keep
+me from showing my respect to William MacLure's memory.”  When all had
+gathered in a half circle before the kitchen door, Lord Kilspindie came
+out--every man noticed he had left his overcoat, and was in black, like
+the Glen--and took a place in the middle with Drumsheugh and Burnbrae,
+his two chief tenants, on the right and left, and as the minister
+appeared every man bared his head.
+
+The doctor looked on the company--a hundred men such as for strength
+and gravity you could hardly have matched in Scotland--standing out in
+picturesque relief against the white background, and he said:
+
+“It's a bitter day, friends, and some of you are old; perhaps it might
+be wise to cover your heads before I begin to pray.”
+
+Lord Kilspindie, standing erect and grey-headed between the two old men,
+replied:
+
+“We thank you, Dr. Davidson, for your thoughtfulness; but he endured
+many a storm in our service, and we are not afraid of a few minutes'
+cold at his funeral.”
+
+A look flashed round the stern faces, and was reflected from the
+minister, who seemed to stand higher.
+
+His prayer, we noticed with critical appreciation, was composed for the
+occasion, and the first part was a thanksgiving to God for the life work
+of our doctor, wherein each clause was a reference to his services and
+sacrifices. No one moved or said Amen--it had been strange with us--but
+when every man had heard the gratitude of his dumb heart offered to
+heaven, there was a great sigh.
+
+After which the minister prayed that we might have grace to live as this
+man had done from youth to old age, not for himself, but for others,
+and that we might be followed to our grave by somewhat of “that love
+wherewith we mourn this day Thy servant departed.” Again the same sigh,
+and the minister said Amen. The “wricht” stood in the doorway without
+speaking, and four stalwart men came forward. They were the volunteers
+that would lift the coffin and carry it for the first stage. One was
+Tammas, Annie Mitchell's man; and another was Saunders Baxter, for whose
+life MacLure had his great fight with death; and the third was the Glen
+Urtach shepherd for whose wife's sake MacLure suffered a broken leg and
+three fractured ribs in a drift; and the fourth, a Dunleith man, had his
+own reasons of remembrance.
+
+“He's far lichter than ye wud expeck for sae big a man--there wesna
+muckle left o' him, ye see--but the road is heavy, and a'il change ye
+aifter 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 thankful
+some one had saved him speaking.
+
+Surely no funeral is like unto that of a doctor for pathos, and a
+peculiar sadness fell on that company as his body was carried out who
+for nearly half a century had been their help in sickness, and had
+beaten back death time after time from their door. Death after all
+was victor, for the man that had saved them had not been able to save
+himself.
+
+As the coffin passed the stable door a horse nieghed within, and every
+man looked at his neighbour. It was his old mare crying to her master.
+
+Jamie slipped into the stable, and went up into the stall.
+
+“Puir lass, ye're no gaen' wi' him the day, an' ye 'ill never see him
+again; ye've hed yir last ride thegither, an' ye were true tae the end.”
+
+[Illustration: “DEATH AFTER ALL WAS VICTOR”]
+
+After the funeral Drumsheugh came himself for Jess, and took her to his
+farm. Saunders made a bed for her with soft, dry straw, and prepared for
+her supper such things as horses love. Jess would neither take food nor
+rest, but moved uneasily in her stall, and seemed to be waiting for some
+one that never came. No man knows what a horse or a dog understands and
+feels, for God hath not given them our speech. If any footstep was heard
+in the courtyard, she began to neigh, and was always looking round as
+the door opened. But nothing would tempt her to eat, and in the
+night-time Drumsheugh heard her crying as if she expected to be taken
+out for some sudden journey. The Kildrummie veterinary came to see her,
+and said that nothing could be done when it happened after this fashion
+with an old horse.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“A've seen it aince afore,” he said. “Gin she were a Christian instead
+o' a horse, ye micht say she wes dying o' a broken hert.”
+
+He recommended that she should be shot to end her misery, but no man
+could be found in the Glen to do the deed and Jess relieved them of the
+trouble. When Drumsheugh went to the stable on Monday morning, a week
+after Dr. MacLure fell on sleep, Jess was resting at last, but her eyes
+were 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, the
+coffin first, with his lordship and Drumsheugh behind, and the others as
+they pleased, but in closer ranks than usual, because the snow on either
+side was deep, and because this was not as other funerals. They could
+see the women standing at the door of every house on the hillside, and
+weeping, for each family had some good reason in forty years to remember
+MacLure. When Bell Baxter saw Saunders alive, and the coffin of the
+doctor that saved him on her man's shoulder, she bowed her head on the
+dyke, and the bairns in the village made such a wail for him they loved
+that the men nearly disgraced themselves.
+
+“A'm gled we're through that, at ony rate,” said Hillocks; “he wes awfu'
+taen up wi' the bairns, conseederin' he hed nane o' his ain.”
+
+There was only one drift on the road between his cottage and the
+kirkyard, and it had been cut early that morning. Before daybreak
+Saunders had roused the lads in the bothy, and they had set to work by
+the light of lanterns with such good will that, when Drumsheugh came
+down to engineer a circuit for the funeral, there was a fair passage,
+with walls of snow twelve feet high on either side.
+
+[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 gang
+round; 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 only
+blackness in the white kirkyard, Tammas Mitchell did the most beautiful
+thing in all his life. He knelt down and carefully wiped off the snow
+the wind had blown upon the coffin, and which had covered the name,
+and when he had done this he disappeared behind the others, so that
+Drumsheugh could hardly find him to take a cord. For these were the
+eight that buried Dr. MacLure--Lord Kilspindie at the head as landlord
+and Drumsheugh at his feet as his friend; the two ministers of the
+parish came first on the right and left; then Burnbrae and Hillocks of
+the farmers, and Saunders and Tammas for the plowmen. So the Glen he
+loved laid him to rest.
+
+When the bedrel had finished his work and the turf had been spread, Lord
+Kilspindie spoke:
+
+“Friends of Drumtochty, it would not be right that we should part in
+silence and no man say what is in every heart. We have buried the
+remains of one that served this Glen with a devotion that has known no
+reserve, and a kindliness that never failed, for more than forty years.
+I have seen many brave men in my day, but no man in the trenches of
+Sebastopol carried himself more knightly than William MacLure. You will
+never have heard from his lips what I may tell you to-day, that my
+father secured for him a valuable post in his younger days, and he
+preferred to work among his own people; and I wished to do many things
+for him when he was old, but he would have nothing for himself. He will
+never be forgotten while one of us lives, and I pray that all doctors
+everywhere may share his spirit. If it be your pleasure, I shall erect
+a cross above his grave, and shall ask my old friend and companion Dr.
+Davidson, your minister, to choose the text to be inscribed.”
+
+“We thank you, Lord Kilspindie,” said the doctor, “for your presence
+with us in our 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 wark
+weel, but it wes a peety he didna mak mair profession o' releegion.”
+
+“When William MacLure appears before the Judge, Milton,” said Lachlan
+Campbell, who that day spoke his last words in public, and they were in
+defence of charity, “He will not be asking him about his professions,
+for the doctor's judgment hass been ready long ago; and it iss a good
+judgment, 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 not
+be expecting it.”
+
+“What is't Lachlan?” asked Jamie Soutar eagerly.
+
+The old man, now very feeble, stood in the middle of the road, and his
+face, once so hard, was softened into a winsome tenderness.
+
+              “'Come, ye blessed of My Father
+              ... I was sick and ye visited Me.'”
+
+[Illustration: GREATER LOVE HATH NO MAN THAN THIS, THAT A MAN LAY DOWN
+HIS LIFE FOR HIS FRIENDS.]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Doctor of the Old School, Complete
+by Ian Maclaren
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+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" />
+    <title>
+      A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL, COMPLETE
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 2em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
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+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 20%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 25%;}
+    div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
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+    <h1>
+      A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL
+    </h1>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+Project Gutenberg's A Doctor of the Old School, Complete, by Ian Maclaren
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Doctor of the Old School, Complete
+
+Author: Ian Maclaren
+
+Release Date: November 1, 2006 [EBook #9320]
+Last Updated: March 1, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL, ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger and PG Distributed
+Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+    <div class="mynote">
+      <i><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/9320/old/orig9320-h/main.htm">
+      LINK TO THE ORIGINAL HTML FILE: This Ebook Has Been Reformatted For Better
+      Appearance In Mobile Viewers Such As Kindles And Others. The Original
+      Format, Which The Editor Believes Has A More Attractive Appearance For
+      Laptops And Other Computers, May Be Viewed By Clicking On This Box.</a></i>
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL
+    </h1>
+    <h2>
+      By Ian Maclaren
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <a name="linkFrontispiece" id="linkFrontispiece"></a> <a
+      href="images/Frontispiece.png">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="Frontispiece.jpg (87K)" src="images/Frontispiece.jpg"
+       width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <a href="images/001.png">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="001.jpg (155K)" src="images/001.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      ILLUSTRATIONS
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      [A click on the face of any illustration<br /> will enlarge it to full
+      size.]<br /><br /> <a href="#linkFrontispiece">DR. MacLURE</a><br /> <br /> <a
+      href="#link012">BOOK I. A GENERAL PRACTITIONER</a><br /><br /> <a
+      href="#link014">Sandy Stewart &ldquo;Napped&rdquo; Stones</a><br /><br /> <a
+      href="#link019">The Gudewife is Keepin' up a Ding-Dong</a><br /><br /> <a
+      href="#link020">His House&mdash;little more than a cottage</a><br /><br />
+      <a href="#link023">Whirling Past in a Cloud of Dust</a><br /><br /> <a
+      href="#link025">Will He Never Come?</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link028">The
+      Verra Look o' Him wes Victory</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link029">Weeping by
+      Her Man's Bedside</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link031">Men Get the Victoria
+      Cross in Other Fields</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link036">Hopps' Laddie Ate
+      Grosarts</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link041">There werna Mair than Four at
+      Nicht</a><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a href="#link044">BOOK II. THROUGH THE
+      FLOOD</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link046">A' doot Yir Gaein' tae Lose Her,
+      Tammas</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link049">The Bonniest, Snoddest, Kindliest
+      Lass in the Glen</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link050">The Winter Night was
+      Falling Fast</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link051">Comin' tae Meet Me in the
+      Gloamin?</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link056">It's oot o' the Question, Jess,
+      sae Hurry up</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link058">It's a Fell Chairge for a
+      Short Day's Work</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link061">The East had Come to
+      Meet the West</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link064">MacLure Explained that it
+      would be an Eventful Journey</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link066">They Passed
+      through the Shallow Water without Mishap</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link069">A
+      Heap of Speechless Misery by the Kitchen Fire</a><br /><br /> <a
+      href="#link071">Ma ain Dear Man</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link074">I'm Proud
+      to have Met You</a><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a href="#link078">BOOK III. A
+      FIGHT WITH DEATH</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link080">Gave Way Utterly</a><br /><br />
+      <a href="#link082">Fillin' His Lungs for Five and Thirty Year wi' Strong
+      Drumtochty Air</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link085">Bell Leant Over the Bed</a><br /><br />
+      <a href="#link088">A Large Tub</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link091">The
+      Lighted Window in Saunder's Cottage</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link094">A
+      Clenched Fist Resting on the Bed</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link097">The
+      Doctor was Attempting the Highland Fling</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link098">Sleepin'
+      on the Top o' Her Bed</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link100">A' Prayed Last
+      Nicht</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link102">I've a Cold in My Head To-night</a><br /><br />
+      <a href="#link106">Jess Bolted without Delay</a><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a
+      href="#link110">BOOK IV. THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY</a><br /><br /> <a
+      href="#link112">Comin' in Frae Glen Urtach</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link115">Drumsheugh
+      was Full of Tact</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link118">Told Drumsheugh that the
+      Doctor was not Able to Rise</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link121">With the Old
+      Warm Grip</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link124">Drumsheugh Looked Wistfully</a><br /><br />
+      <a href="#link128">Wud Gie Her a Bite o' Grass</a><br /><br /> <a
+      href="#link130">Ma Mither's Bible</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link134">It's a
+      Coorse Nicht, Jess</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link137">She's Carryin' a Licht
+      in Her Hand</a><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a href="#link141">BOOK V. THE
+      MOURNING OF THE GLEN</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link143">The Tochty Ran with
+      Black, Swollen Stream</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link145">Toiled Across the
+      Glen</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link147">There was Nae Use Trying tae Dig Oot
+      the Front Door</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link148">Ane of Them Gied Ower the
+      Head in a Drift</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link151">Two Men in Plaids were
+      Descending the Hill</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link153">Jined Hands and Cam
+      ower Fine</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link156">Twa Horses, Ane afore the Ither</a><br /><br />
+      <a href="#link159">He had Left His Overcoat, and was in Black</a><br /><br />
+      <a href="#link164">Death after All was Victor</a><br /><br /> <a
+      href="#link165">She Began to Neigh</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link168">They
+      had Set to Work</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link169">Standing at the Door</a><br /><br />
+      <a href="#link174">Finis</a><br /><br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      A GENERAL PRACTITIONER.
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /> <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      PREFACE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It is with great good will that I write this short preface to the edition
+      of &ldquo;A Doctor of the Old School&rdquo; (which has been illustrated by Mr. Gordon
+      after an admirable and understanding fashion) because there are two things
+      that I should like to say to my readers, being also my friends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One, is to answer a question that has been often and fairly asked. Was
+      there ever any doctor so self-forgetful and so utterly Christian as
+      William MacLure? To which I am proud to reply, on my conscience: Not one
+      man, but many in Scotland and in the South country. I will dare prophecy
+      also across the sea.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It has been one man's good fortune to know four country doctors, not one
+      of whom was without his faults&mdash;Weelum was not perfect&mdash;but who,
+      each one, might have sat for my hero. Three are now resting from their
+      labors, and the fourth, if he ever should see these lines, would never
+      identify himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then I desire to thank my readers, and chiefly the medical profession for
+      the reception given to the Doctor of Drumtochty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For many years I have desired to pay some tribute to a class whose service
+      to the community was known to every countryman, but after the tale had
+      gone forth my heart failed. For it might have been despised for the little
+      grace of letters in the style and because of the outward roughness of the
+      man. But neither his biographer nor his circumstances have 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 in commendation of Weelum
+      MacLure, and many were from doctors who had received new courage. It is
+      surely more honor than a new writer could ever have deserved to receive
+      the approbation of a profession whose charity puts us all to shame.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      May I take this first opportunity to declare how deeply my heart has been
+      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 face to face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      IAN MACLAREN. Liverpool, Oct. 4, 1895.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /> <a name="linkI" id="linkI"></a> <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      A GENERAL PRACTITIONER.
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /> <a name="link012" id="link012"></a> <br /><br /> <a
+      href="images/012.png">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="012.jpg (73K)" src="images/012.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumtochty was accustomed to break every law of health, except wholesome
+      food and fresh air, and yet had reduced the Psalmist's farthest limit to
+      an average life-rate. Our men made no difference in their clothes for
+      summer or winter, Drumsheugh and one or two of the larger farmers
+      condescending to a topcoat on Sabbath, as a penalty of their position, and
+      without regard to temperature. They wore their blacks at a funeral,
+      refusing to cover them with anything, out of respect to the deceased, and
+      standing longest in the kirkyard when the north wind was blowing across a
+      hundred miles of snow. If the rain was pouring at the Junction, then
+      Drumtochty stood two minutes longer through sheer native dourness till
+      each man had a cascade from the tail of his coat, and hazarded the
+      suggestion, halfway to Kildrummie, that it had been &ldquo;a bit scrowie,&rdquo; a
+      &ldquo;scrowie&rdquo; being as far short of a &ldquo;shoor&rdquo; as a &ldquo;shoor&rdquo; fell below &ldquo;weet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link014" id="link014"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/014.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="014.jpg (67K)" src="images/014.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This sustained defiance of the elements provoked occasional judgments in
+      the shape of a &ldquo;hoast&rdquo; (cough), and the head of the house was then
+      exhorted by his women folk to &ldquo;change his feet&rdquo; if he had happened to walk
+      through a burn on his way home, and was pestered generally with sanitary
+      precautions. It is right to add that the gudeman treated such advice with
+      contempt, regarding it as suitable for the effeminacy of towns, but not
+      seriously intended for Drumtochty. Sandy Stewart &ldquo;napped&rdquo; stones on the
+      road in his shirt sleeves, wet or fair, summer and winter, till he was
+      persuaded to retire from active duty at eighty-five, and he spent ten
+      years more in regretting his hastiness and criticising his successor. The
+      ordinary course of life, with fine air and contented minds, was to do a
+      full share of work till seventy, and then to look after &ldquo;orra&rdquo; jobs well
+      into the eighties, and to &ldquo;slip awa&rdquo; within sight of ninety. Persons above
+      ninety were understood to be acquitting themselves with credit, and
+      assumed airs of authority, brushing aside the opinions of seventy as
+      immature, and confirming their conclusions with illustrations drawn from
+      the end of last century.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Hillocks' brother so far forgot himself as to &ldquo;slip awa&rdquo; at sixty,
+      that worthy man was scandalized, and offered laboured explanations at the
+      &ldquo;beerial.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's an awfu' business ony wy ye look at it, an' a sair trial tae us a'.
+      A' never heard tell o' sic a thing in oor family afore, an' it's no easy
+      accoontin' for't.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The gudewife was sayin' he wes never the same sin' a weet nicht he lost
+      himsel on the muir and slept below a bush; but that's neither here nor
+      there. A'm thinkin' he sappit his constitution thae twa years he wes
+      grieve aboot England. That wes thirty years syne, but ye're never the same
+      aifter thae foreign climates.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumtochty listened patiently to Hillocks' apology, but was not satisfied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's clean havers about the muir. Losh keep's, we've a' sleepit oot and
+      never been a hair the waur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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 hed
+      been nippit in the Sooth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The parish had, in fact, lost confidence in Drums after his wayward
+      experiment with a potato-digging machine, which turned out a lamentable
+      failure, and his premature departure confirmed our vague impression of his
+      character.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's awa noo,&rdquo; Drumsheugh summed up, after opinion had time to form; &ldquo;an'
+      there were waur fouk than Drums, but there's nae doot he was a wee
+      flichty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When illness had the audacity to attack a Drumtochty man, it was described
+      as a &ldquo;whup,&rdquo; and was treated by the men with a fine negligence. Hillocks
+      was sitting in the post-office one afternoon when I looked in for my
+      letters, and the right side of his face was blazing red. His subject of
+      discourse was the prospects of the turnip &ldquo;breer,&rdquo; but he casually
+      explained that he was waiting for medical advice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The gudewife is keepin' up a ding-dong frae mornin' till nicht aboot ma
+      face, and a'm fair deaved (deafened), so a'm watchin' for MacLure tae get
+      a bottle as he comes wast; yon's him noo.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor made his diagnosis from horseback on sight, and stated the
+      result with that admirable clearness which endeared him to Drumtochty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Confoond ye, Hillocks, what are ye ploiterin' aboot here for in the weet
+      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' ye afore a'
+      leave the bit, and send a haflin for some medicine. Ye donnerd idiot, are
+      ye ettlin tae follow Drums afore yir time?&rdquo; And the medical attendant of
+      Drumtochty continued his invective till Hillocks started, and still
+      pursued his retreating figure with medical directions of a simple and
+      practical character.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link019" id="link019"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/019.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="019.jpg (64K)" src="images/019.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A'm watchin', an' peety ye if ye pit aff time. Keep yir bed the mornin',
+      and dinna show yir face in the fields till a' see ye. A'll gie ye a cry on
+      Monday&mdash;sic an auld fule&mdash;but there's no are o' them tae mind
+      anither in the hale pairish.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link020" id="link020"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/020.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="020.jpg (69K)" src="images/020.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hillocks' wife informed the kirkyaird that the doctor &ldquo;gied the gudeman an
+      awfu' clear-in',&rdquo; and that Hillocks &ldquo;wes keepin' the hoose,&rdquo; which meant
+      that the patient had tea breakfast, and at that time was wandering about
+      the farm buildings in an easy undress with his head in a plaid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was impossible for a doctor to earn even the most modest competence
+      from a people of such scandalous health, and so MacLure had annexed
+      neighbouring parishes. His house&mdash;little more than a cottage&mdash;stood
+      on the roadside among the pines towards the head of our Glen, and from
+      this base of operations he dominated the wild glen that broke the wall of
+      the Grampians above Drumtochty&mdash;where the snow drifts were twelve
+      feet deep in winter, and the only way of passage at times was the channel
+      of the river&mdash;and the moorland district westwards till he came to the
+      Dunleith sphere of influence, where there were four doctors and a
+      hydropathic. Drumtochty in its length, which was eight miles, and its
+      breadth, which was 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 way thereto was across the big moor with its peat holes and
+      treacherous bogs. And he held the land eastwards towards Muirtown so far
+      as Geordie, the Drumtochty post, travelled every day, and could carry word
+      that the doctor was wanted. He did his best for the need of every man,
+      woman and child in this wild, straggling district, year in, year out, in
+      the snow and in the heat, in the dark and in the light, without rest, and
+      without holiday for forty years.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One horse could not do the work of this man, but we liked best to see him
+      on his old white mare, who died the week after her master, and the passing
+      of the two did our hearts good. It was not that he rode beautifully, for
+      he broke every canon of art, flying with his arms, stooping till he seemed
+      to be speaking into Jess's ears, and rising in the saddle beyond all
+      necessity. But he could rise faster, stay longer in the saddle, and had a
+      firmer grip with his knees than any one I ever met, and it was all for
+      mercy's sake. When the reapers in harvest time saw a figure whirling past
+      in a cloud of dust, or the family at the foot of Glen Urtach, gathered
+      round the fire on a winter's night, heard the rattle of a horse's hoofs on
+      the road, or the shepherds, out after the sheep, traced a black speck
+      moving across the snow to the upper glen, they knew it was the doctor,
+      and, without being conscious of it, wished him God speed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link023" id="link023"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/023.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="023.jpg (80K)" src="images/023.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before and behind his saddle were strapped the instruments and medicines
+      the doctor might want, for he never knew what was before him. There were
+      no specialists in Drumtochty, so this man had to do everything as best he
+      could, and as quickly. He was chest doctor and doctor for every other
+      organ as well; he was accoucheur and surgeon; he was oculist and aurist;
+      he was dentist and chloroformist, besides being chemist and druggist. It
+      was often told how he was far up Glen Urtach when the feeders of the
+      threshing mill caught young Burnbrae, and how he only stopped to change
+      horses at his house, and galloped all the way to Burnbrae, and flung
+      himself off his horse and amputated the arm, and saved the lad's life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You wud hae thocht that every meenut was an hour,&rdquo; said Jamie Soutar, who
+      had been at the threshing, &ldquo;an' a'll never forget the puir lad lying as
+      white as deith on the floor o' the loft, wi' his head on a sheaf, an'
+      Burnbrae haudin' the bandage ticht an' prayin' a' the while, and the
+      mither greetin' in the corner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Will he never come?' she cries, an' a' heard the soond o' the horse's
+      feet on the road a mile awa in the frosty air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link025" id="link025"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/025.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="025.jpg (109K)" src="images/025.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'The Lord be praised!' said Burnbrae, and a' slippit doon the ladder as
+      the doctor came skelpin' intae the close, the foam fleein' frae his
+      horse's mooth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whar is he?' wes a' that passed his lips, an' in five meenuts he hed him
+      on the feedin' board, and wes at his wark&mdash;sic wark, neeburs&mdash;but
+      he did it weel. An' ae thing a' thocht rael thochtfu' o' him: he first
+      sent aff the laddie's mither tae get a bed ready.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Noo that's feenished, and his constitution 'ill dae the rest,&rdquo; and he
+      carried the lad doon the ladder in his airms like a bairn, and laid him in
+      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' hevna
+      tasted meat for saxteen hoors.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was michty tae see him come intae the yaird that day, neeburs; the
+      verra look o' him wes victory.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link028" id="link028"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/028.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="028.jpg (71K)" src="images/028.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jamie's cynicism slipped off in the enthusiasm of this reminiscence, and
+      he expressed the feeling of Drumtochty. No one sent for MacLure save in
+      great straits, and the sight of him put courage in sinking hearts. But
+      this was not by the grace of his appearance, or the advantage of a good
+      bedside manner. A tall, gaunt, loosely made man, without an ounce of
+      superfluous flesh on his body, his face burned a dark brick color by
+      constant exposure to the weather, red hair and beard turning grey, honest
+      blue eyes that look you ever in the face, huge hands with wrist bones like
+      the shank of a ham, and a voice that hurled his salutations across two
+      fields, he suggested the moor rather than the drawing-room. But what a
+      clever hand it was in an operation, as delicate as a woman's, and what a
+      kindly voice it was in the humble room where the shepherd's wife was
+      weeping by her man's bedside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link029" id="link029"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/029.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="029.jpg (115K)" src="images/029.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was &ldquo;ill pitten the gither&rdquo; to begin with, but many of his physical
+      defects were the penalties of his work, and endeared him to the Glen. That
+      ugly scar that cut into his right eyebrow and gave him such a sinister
+      expression, was got one night Jess slipped on the ice and laid him
+      insensible eight miles from home. His limp marked the big snowstorm in the
+      fifties, when his horse missed the road in Glen Urtach, and they rolled
+      together in a drift. MacLure escaped with a broken leg and the fracture of
+      three ribs, but he never walked like other men again. He could not swing
+      himself into the saddle without making two attempts and holding Jess's
+      mane. Neither can you &ldquo;warstle&rdquo; through the peat bogs and snow drifts for
+      forty winters without a touch of rheumatism. But they were honorable
+      scars, and for such risks of life men get the Victoria Cross in other
+      fields.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link031" id="link031"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/031.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="031.jpg (111K)" src="images/031.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      MacLure got nothing but the secret affection of the Glen, which knew that
+      none had ever done one-tenth as much for it as this ungainly, twisted,
+      battered figure, and I have seen a Drumtochty face soften at the sight of
+      MacLure limping to his horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Hopps earned the ill-will of the Glen for ever by criticising the
+      doctor's dress, but indeed it would have filled any townsman with
+      amazement. Black he wore once a year, on Sacrament Sunday, and, if
+      possible, at a funeral; topcoat or waterproof never. His jacket and
+      waistcoat were rough homespun of Glen Urtach wool, which threw off the wet
+      like a duck's back, and below he was clad in shepherd's tartan trousers,
+      which disappeared into unpolished riding boots. His shirt was grey
+      flannel, and he was uncertain about a collar, but certain as to a tie
+      which he never had, his beard doing instead, and his hat was soft felt of
+      four colors and seven different shapes. His point of distinction in dress
+      was the trousers, and they were the subject of unending speculation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some threep that he's worn thae eedentical pair the last twenty year, an'
+      a' mind masel him gettin' a tear ahint, when he was crossin' oor palin',
+      and the mend's still veesible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ithers declare 'at he's got a wab o' claith, and hes a new pair made in
+      Muirtown aince in the twa year maybe, and keeps them in the garden till
+      the new look wears aff.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For ma ain pairt,&rdquo; Soutar used to declare, &ldquo;a' canna mak up my mind, but
+      there's ae thing sure, the Glen wud not like tae see him withoot them: it
+      wud be a shock tae confidence. There's no muckle o' the check left, but ye
+      can aye tell it, and when ye see thae breeks comin' in ye ken that if
+      human pooer can save yir bairn's life it 'ill be dune.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The confidence of the Glen&mdash;and tributary states&mdash;was unbounded,
+      and rested partly on long experience of the doctor's resources, and partly
+      on his hereditary connection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His father was here afore him,&rdquo; Mrs. Macfadyen used to explain; &ldquo;atween
+      them they've hed the countyside for weel on tae a century; if MacLure
+      disna understand oor constitution, wha dis, a' wud like tae ask?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For Drumtochty had its own constitution and a special throat disease, as
+      became a parish which was quite self-contained between the woods and the
+      hills, and not dependent on the lowlands either for its diseases or its
+      doctors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's a skilly man, Doctor MacLure,&rdquo; continued my friend Mrs. Macfayden,
+      whose judgment on sermons or anything else was seldom at fault; &ldquo;an' a
+      kind-hearted, though o' coorse he hes his faults like us a', an' he disna
+      tribble the Kirk often.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He aye can tell what's wrang wi' a body, an' maistly he can put ye richt,
+      and there's nae new-fangled wys wi' him: a blister for the ootside an'
+      Epsom salts for the inside dis his wark, an' they say there's no an herb
+      on the hills he disna ken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If we're tae dee, we're tae dee; an' if we're tae live, we're tae live,&rdquo;
+       concluded Elspeth, with sound Calvinistic logic; &ldquo;but a'll say this for
+      the doctor, that whether yir tae live or dee, he can aye keep up a sharp
+      meisture on the skin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he's no veera ceevil gin ye bring him when there's naethin' wrang,&rdquo;
+       and Mrs. Macfayden's face reflected another of Mr. Hopps' misadventures of
+      which Hillocks held the copyright.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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' he
+      writes 'immediately' on a slip o' paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'What's a dae here, Hillocks?&rdquo; he cries; 'it's no an accident, is't?' and
+      when he got aff his horse he cud hardly stand wi' stiffness and tire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'It's nane o' us, doctor; it's Hopps' laddie; he's been eatin' ower mony
+      berries.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link036" id="link036"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/036.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="036.jpg (91K)" src="images/036.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If he didna turn on me like a tiger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Div ye mean tae say&mdash;&mdash;'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Weesht, weesht,' an' I tried tae quiet him, for Hopps wes comin' oot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'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, and
+      I've never had one wink of sleep. You might have come a little quicker,
+      that's all I've got to say.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We've mair tae dae in Drumtochty than attend tae every bairn that hes a
+      sair stomach,' and a' saw MacLure wes roosed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'I'm astonished to hear you speak. Our doctor at home always says to Mrs.
+      'Opps &ldquo;Look on me as a family friend, Mrs. 'Opps, and send for me though
+      it be only a headache.&rdquo;'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'He'd be mair sparin' o' his offers if he hed four and twenty mile tae
+      look aifter. There's naethin' wrang wi' yir laddie but greed. Gie him a
+      gude dose o' castor oil and stop his meat for a day, an' he 'ill be a'
+      richt the morn.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'He 'ill not take castor oil, doctor. We have given up those barbarous
+      medicines.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Whatna kind o' medicines hae ye noo in the Sooth?'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Well, you see, Dr. MacLure, we're homoeopathists, and I've my little
+      chest here,' and oot Hopps comes wi' his boxy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Let's see't,' an' MacLure sits doon and taks oot the bit bottles, and he
+      reads the names wi' a lauch every time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Belladonna; did ye ever hear the like? Aconite; it cowes a'. Nux Vomica.
+      What next? Weel, ma mannie,' he says tae Hopps, 'it's a fine ploy, and ye
+      'ill better gang on wi' the Nux till it's dune, and gie him ony ither o'
+      the sweeties he fancies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Noo, Hillocks, a' maun be aff tae see Drumsheugh's grieve, for he's doon
+      wi' the fever, and it's tae be a teuch fecht. A' hinna time tae wait for
+      dinner; gie me some cheese an' cake in ma haund, and Jess 'ill tak a pail
+      o' meal an' water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Fee; a'm no wantin' yir fees, man; wi' that boxy ye dinna need a doctor;
+      na, na, gie yir siller tae some puir body, Maister Hopps,' an' he was doon
+      the road as hard as he cud lick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His fees were pretty much what the folk chose to give him, and he
+      collected them once a year at Kildrummie fair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, doctor, what am a' awin' ye for the wife and bairn? Ye 'ill need
+      three notes for that nicht ye stayed in the hoose an' a' the veesits.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Havers,&rdquo; MacLure would answer, &ldquo;prices are low, a'm hearing; gie's thirty
+      shillings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, a'll no, or the wife 'ill tak ma ears off,&rdquo; and it was settled for
+      two pounds. Lord Kilspindie gave him a free house and fields, and one way
+      or other, Drumsheugh told me, the doctor might get in about £150 a year,
+      out of which he had to pay his old housekeeper's wages and a boy's, and
+      keep two horses, besides the cost of instruments and books, which he
+      bought through a friend in Edinburgh with much judgment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was only one man who ever complained of the doctor's charges, and
+      that was the new farmer of Milton, who was so good that he was above both
+      churches, and held a meeting in his barn. (It was Milton the Glen supposed
+      at first to be a Mormon, but I can't go into that now.) He offered MacLure
+      a pound less than he asked, and two tracts, whereupon MacLure expressed
+      his opinion of Milton, both from a theological and social standpoint, with
+      such vigor and frankness that an attentive audience of Drumtochty men
+      could hardly contain themselves. Jamie Soutar was selling his pig at the
+      time, and missed the meeting, but he hastened to condole with Milton, who
+      was complaining everywhere of the doctor's language.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link041" id="link041"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/041.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="041.jpg (72K)" src="images/041.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye did richt tae resist him; it 'ill maybe roose the Glen tae mak a
+      stand; he fair hands them in bondage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thirty shillings for twal veesits, and him no mair than seeven mile awa,
+      an' a'm telt there werena mair than four at nicht.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye 'ill hae the sympathy o' the Glen, for a' body kens yir as free wi'
+      yir siller as yir tracts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A've often thocht oor doctor's little better than the Gude Samaritan, an'
+      the Pharisees didna think muckle o' his chance aither in this warld or
+      that which is tae come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link044" id="link044"></a> <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      THROUGH THE FLOOD.
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a href="images/044.png">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="044.jpg (67K)" src="images/044.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Doctor MacLure did not lead a solemn procession from the sick bed to the
+      dining-room, and give his opinion from the hearthrug with an air of wisdom
+      bordering on the supernatural, because neither the Drumtochty houses nor
+      his manners were on that large scale. He was accustomed to deliver himself
+      in the yard, and to conclude his directions with one foot in the stirrup;
+      but when he left the room where the life of Annie Mitchell was ebbing
+      slowly away, our doctor said not one word, and at the sight of his face
+      her husband's heart was troubled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was a dull man, Tammas, who could not read the meaning of a sign, and
+      labored under a perpetual disability of speech; but love was eyes to him
+      that day, and a mouth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is't as bad as yir lookin', doctor? tell's the truth; wull Annie no come
+      through?&rdquo; and Tammas looked MacLure straight in the face, who never
+      flinched his duty or said smooth things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' wud gie onything tae say Annie hes a chance, but a' daurna; a' doot
+      yir gaein' tae lose her, Tammas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      MacLure was in the saddle, and as he gave his judgment, he laid his hand
+      on Tammas's shoulder with one of the rare caresses that pass between men.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link046" id="link046"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/046.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="046.jpg (79K)" src="images/046.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a sair business, but ye 'ill play the man and no vex Annie; she 'ill
+      dae her best, a'll warrant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' a'll dae mine,&rdquo; and Tammas gave MacLure's hand a grip that would have
+      crushed the bones of a weakling. Drumtochty felt in such moments the
+      brotherliness of this rough-looking man, and loved him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Tammas hid his face in Jess's mane, who looked round with sorrow in her
+      beautiful eyes, for she had seen many tragedies, and in this silent
+      sympathy the stricken man drank his cup, drop by drop.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' wesna prepared for this, for a' aye thocht she wud live the
+      langest.... She's younger than me by ten years, and never wes ill....
+      We've been mairit twal year laist Martinmas, but it's juist like a year
+      the day... A' wes never worthy o' her, the bonniest, snoddest (neatest),
+      kindliest lass in the Glen.... A' never cud mak oot hoo she ever lookit at
+      me, 'at hesna hed ae word tae say aboot her till it's ower late.... She
+      didna cuist up tae me that a' wesna worthy o' her, no her, but aye she
+      said, 'Yir ma ain gudeman, and nane cud be kinder tae me.' ... An' a' wes
+      minded tae be kind, but a' see noo mony little trokes a' micht hae dune
+      for her, and noo the time is bye.... Naebody kens hoo patient she wes wi'
+      me, and aye made the best o 'me, an' never pit me tae shame afore the
+      fouk.... An' we never hed ae cross word, no ane in twal year.... We were
+      mair nor man and wife, we were sweethearts a' the time.... Oh, ma bonnie
+      lass, what 'ill the bairnies an' me dae withoot ye, Annie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link049" id="link049"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/049.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="049.jpg (90K)" src="images/049.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The winter night was falling fast, the snow lay deep upon the ground, and
+      the merciless north wind moaned through the close as Tammas wrestled with
+      his sorrow dry-eyed, for tears were denied Drumtochty men. Neither the
+      doctor nor Jess moved hand or foot, but their hearts were with their
+      fellow creature, and at length the doctor made a sign to Marget Howe, who
+      had come out in search of Tammas, and now stood by his side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link050" id="link050"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/050.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="050.jpg (36K)" src="images/050.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dinna mourn tae the brakin' o' yir hert, Tammas,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;as if Annie
+      an' you hed never luved. Neither death nor time can pairt them that luve;
+      there's naethin' in a' the warld sae strong as luve. If Annie gaes frae
+      the 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 her nicht 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 in Drumtochty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link051" id="link051"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/051.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="051.jpg (41K)" src="images/051.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank ye kindly, Marget; thae are gude words and true, an' ye hev the
+      richt tae say them; but a' canna dae without seem' Annie comin' tae meet
+      me 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 nae
+      Annie in the hoose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can naethin' be dune, doctor? Ye savit Flora Cammil, and young Burnbrae,
+      an' yon shepherd's wife Dunleith wy, an' we were a sae prood o' ye, an'
+      pleased tae think that ye hed keepit deith frae anither hame. Can ye no
+      think o' somethin' tae help Annie, and gie her back tae her man and
+      bairnies?&rdquo; and Tammas searched the doctor's face in the cold, weird light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's nae pooer on heaven or airth like luve,&rdquo; Marget said to me
+      afterwards; &ldquo;it maks the weak strong and the dumb tae speak. Oor herts
+      were as water afore Tammas's words, an' a' saw the doctor shake in his
+      saddle. A' never kent till that meenut hoo he hed a share in a'body's
+      grief, an' carried the heaviest wecht o' a' the Glen. A' peetied him wi'
+      Tammas lookin' at him sae wistfully, as if he hed the keys o' life an'
+      deith in his hands. But he wes honest, and wudna hold oot a false houp tae
+      deceive a sore hert or win escape for himsel'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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 the warld,
+      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 an orphan, an'
+      nae man wes better pleased when she got a gude husband, and a' helpit her
+      wi' her fower bairns. A've naither wife nor bairns o' ma own, an' a' coont
+      a' the fouk o' the Glen ma family. Div ye think a' wudna save Annie if I
+      cud? If there wes a man in Muirtown 'at cud dae mair for her, a'd have him
+      this verra nicht, but a' the doctors in Perthshire are helpless for this
+      tribble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tammas, ma puir fallow, if it could avail, a' tell ye a' wud lay doon
+      this auld worn-oot ruckle o' a body o' mine juist tae see ye baith sittin'
+      at the fireside, an' the bairns roond ye, couthy an' canty again; but it's
+      no tae be, Tammas, it's no tae be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When a' lookit at the doctor's face,&rdquo; Marget said, &ldquo;a' thocht him the
+      winsomest man a' ever saw. He was transfigured that nicht, for a'm judging
+      there's nae transfiguration like luve.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's God's wull an' maun be borne, but it's a sair wull for me, an' a'm
+      no ungratefu' tae you, doctor, for a' ye've dune and what ye said the
+      nicht,&rdquo; and Tammas went back to sit with Annie for the last time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jess picked her way through the deep snow to the main road, with a skill
+      that came of long experience, and the doctor held converse with her
+      according to his wont.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh, Jess wumman, yon wes the hardest wark a' hae tae face, and a' wud
+      raither hae ta'en ma chance o' anither row in a Glen Urtach drift than
+      tell Tammas Mitchell his wife wes deein'.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' said she cudna be cured, and it wes true, for there's juist ae man in
+      the land fit for't, and they micht as weel try tae get the mune oot o'
+      heaven. Sae a' said naethin' tae vex Tammas's hert, for it's heavy eneuch
+      withoot regrets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it's hard, Jess, that money wull buy life after a', an' if Annie wes
+      a duchess her man wudna lose her; but bein' only a puir cottar's wife, she
+      maun dee afore the week's oot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gin we hed him the morn there's little doot she would be saved, for he
+      hesna lost mair than five per cent, o' his cases, and they 'ill be puir
+      toon's craturs, no strappin women like Annie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link056" id="link056"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/056.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="056.jpg (79K)" src="images/056.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's oot o' the question, Jess, sae hurry up, lass, for we've hed a heavy
+      day. But it wud be the grandest thing that was ever dune in the Glen in
+      oor time if it could be managed by hook or crook.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We 'ill gang and see Drumsheugh, Jess; he's anither man sin' Geordie
+      Hoo's deith, and he wes aye kinder than fouk kent;&rdquo; and the doctor passed
+      at a gallop through the village, whose lights shone across the white
+      frost-bound road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come in by, doctor; a' heard ye on the road; ye 'ill hae been at Tammas
+      Mitchell's; hoo's the gudewife? a' doot she's sober.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Annie's deein', Drumsheugh, an' Tammas is like tae brak his hert.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's no lichtsome, doctor, no lichtsome ava, for a' dinna ken ony man
+      in Drumtochty sae bund up in his wife as Tammas, and there's no a bonnier
+      wumman o' her age crosses our kirk door than Annie, nor a cleverer at her
+      wark. Man, ye 'ill need tae pit yir brains in steep. Is she clean beyond
+      ye?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Beyond me and every ither in the land but ane, and it wud cost a hundred
+      guineas tae bring him tae Drumtochty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link058" id="link058"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/058.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="058.jpg (59K)" src="images/058.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certes, he's no blate; it's a fell chairge for a short day's work; but
+      hundred or no hundred we'll hae him, an' no let Annie gang, and her no
+      half her years.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are ye meanin' it, Drumsheugh?&rdquo; and MacLure turned white below the tan.
+      &ldquo;William MacLure,&rdquo; said Drumsheugh, in one of the few confidences that
+      ever broke the Drumtochty reserve, &ldquo;a'm a lonely man, wi' naebody o' ma
+      ain blude tae care for me livin', or tae lift me intae ma coffin when a'm
+      deid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' fecht awa at Muirtown market for an extra pound on a beast, or a
+      shillin' on the quarter o' barley, an' what's the gude o't? Burnbrae gaes
+      aff tae get a goon for his wife or a buke for his college laddie, an'
+      Lachlan Campbell 'ill no leave the place noo without a ribbon for Flora.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ilka man in the Klldrummie train has some bit fairin' his pooch for the
+      fouk at hame that he's bocht wi' the siller he won.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But there's naebody tae be lookin' oot for me, an' comin' doon the road
+      tae meet me, and daffin' (joking) wi' me about their fairing, or feeling
+      ma pockets. Ou ay, a've seen it a' at ither hooses, though they tried tae
+      hide it frae me for fear a' wud lauch at them. Me lauch, wi' ma cauld,
+      empty hame!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yir the only man kens, Weelum, that I aince luved the noblest wumman in
+      the glen or onywhere, an' a' luve her still, but wi' anither luve noo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She had given her heart tae anither, or a've thocht a' micht hae won her,
+      though nae man be worthy o' sic a gift. Ma hert turned tae bitterness, but
+      that passed awa beside the brier bush whar George Hoo lay yon sad simmer
+      time. Some day a'll tell ye ma story, Weelum, for you an' me are auld
+      freends, and will be till we dee.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      MacLure felt beneath the table for Drumsheugh's hand, but neither man
+      looked at the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Weel, a' we can dae noo, Weelum, gin we haena mickle brichtness in oor
+      ain names, is tae keep the licht frae gaein' oot in anither hoose. Write
+      the telegram, man, and Sandy 'ill send it aff frae Kildrummie this verra
+      nicht, and ye 'ill hae yir man the morn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yir the man a' coonted ye, Drumsheugh, but ye 'ill grant me ae favor. Ye
+      'ill lat me pay the half, bit by bit&mdash;a' ken yir wullin' tae dae't a'&mdash;but
+      a' haena mony pleasures, an' a' wud like tae hae ma ain share in savin'
+      Annie's life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link061" id="link061"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/061.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="061.jpg (84K)" src="images/061.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next morning a figure received Sir George on the Kildrummie platform, whom
+      that famous surgeon took for a gillie, but who introduced himself as
+      &ldquo;MacLure of Drumtochty.&rdquo; It seemed as if the East had come to meet the
+      West when these two stood together, the one in travelling furs, handsome
+      and distinguished, with his strong, cultured face and carriage of
+      authority, a characteristic type of his profession; and the other more
+      marvellously dressed than ever, for Drumsheugh's topcoat had been forced
+      upon him for the occasion, his face and neck one redness with the bitter
+      cold; rough and ungainly, yet not without some signs of power in his eye
+      and voice, the most heroic type of his noble profession. MacLure compassed
+      the precious arrival with observances till he was securely seated in
+      Drumsheugh's dog cart&mdash;a vehicle that lent itself to history&mdash;with
+      two full-sized plaids added to his equipment&mdash;Drumsheugh and Hillocks
+      had both been requisitioned&mdash;and MacLure wrapped another plaid round
+      a leather case, which was placed below the seat with such reverence as
+      might be given to the Queen's regalia. Peter attended their departure full
+      of interest, and as soon as they were in the fir woods MacLure explained
+      that it would be an eventful journey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a richt in here, for the wind disna get at the snaw, but the drifts
+      are deep in the Glen, and th'ill be some engineerin' afore we get tae oor
+      destination.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Four times they left the road and took their way over fields, twice they
+      forced a passage through a slap in a dyke, thrice they used gaps in the
+      paling which MacLure had made on his downward journey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link064" id="link064"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/064.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="064.jpg (58K)" src="images/064.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye see the bridge hes been shaken wi' this winter's flood, and we daurna
+      venture on it, sae we hev tae ford, and the snaw's been melting up Urtach
+      way. There's nae doot the water's gey big, and it's threatenin' tae rise,
+      but we 'ill win through wi' a warstle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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 in yir
+      seat in case we come on a stane in the bed o' the river.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      By this time they had come to the edge, and it was not a cheering sight.
+      The Tochty had spread out over the meadows, and while they waited they
+      could see it cover another two inches on the trunk of a tree. There are
+      summer floods, when the water is brown and flecked with foam, but this was
+      a winter flood, which is black and sullen, and runs in the centre with a
+      strong, fierce, silent current. Upon the opposite side Hillocks stood to
+      give directions by word and hand, as the ford was on his land, and none
+      knew the Tochty better in all its ways.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link066" id="link066"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/066.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="066.jpg (159K)" src="images/066.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They passed through the shallow water without mishap, save when the wheel
+      struck a hidden stone or fell suddenly into a rut; but when they neared
+      the body of the river MacLure halted, to give Jess a minute's breathing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It 'ill tak ye a' yir time, lass, an' a' wud raither be on yir back; but
+      ye never failed me yet, and a wumman's life is hangin' on the crossin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With the first plunge into the bed of the stream the water rose to the
+      axles, and then it crept up to the shafts, so that the surgeon could feel
+      it lapping in about his feet, while the dogcart began to quiver, and it
+      seemed as if it were to be carried away. Sir George was as brave as most
+      men, but he had never forded a Highland river in flood, and the mass of
+      black water racing past beneath, before, behind him, affected his
+      imagination and shook his nerves. He rose from his seat and ordered
+      MacLure to turn back, declaring that he would be condemned utterly and
+      eternally if he allowed himself to be drowned for any person.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit doon,&rdquo; thundered MacLure; &ldquo;condemned ye will be suner or later gin ye
+      shirk yir duty, but through the water ye gang the day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Both men spoke much more strongly and shortly, but this is what they
+      intended to say, and it was MacLure that prevailed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jess trailed her feet along the ground with cunning art, and held her
+      shoulder against the stream; MacLure leant forward in his seat, a rein in
+      each hand, and his eyes fixed on Hillocks, who was now standing up to the
+      waist in the water, shouting directions and cheering on horse and driver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Haud tae the richt, doctor; there's a hole yonder. Keep oot o't for ony
+      sake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link069" id="link069"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/069.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="069.jpg (87K)" src="images/069.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That's heap of speechless misery by the kitchen fire, and carried him off
+      to the barn, and spread some corn on the threshing floor and thrust a
+      flail into his hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Noo we've tae begin, an' we 'ill no be dune for an' oor, and ye've tae
+      lay on withoot stoppin' till a' come for ye, an' a'll shut the door tae
+      haud in the noise, an' keep yir dog beside ye, for there maunna be a cheep
+      aboot the hoose for Annie's sake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A'll dae onything ye want me, but if&mdash;if&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A'll come for ye, Tammas, gin there be danger; but what are ye feared for
+      wi' the Queen's ain surgeon here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fifty minutes did the flail rise and fall, save twice, when Tammas crept
+      to the door and listened, the dog lifting his head and whining.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed twelve hours instead of one when the door swung back, and
+      MacLure filled the doorway, preceded by a great burst of light, for the
+      sun had arisen on the snow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link071" id="link071"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/071.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="071.jpg (100K)" src="images/071.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His face was as tidings of great joy, and Elspeth told me that there was
+      nothing like it to be seen that afternoon for glory, save the sun itself
+      in the heavens.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' never saw the marrow o't, Tammas, an' a'll never see the like again;
+      it's a' ower, man, withoot a hitch frae beginnin' tae end, and she's
+      fa'in' asleep as fine as ye like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dis he think Annie ... 'ill live?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of coorse he dis, and be aboot the hoose inside a month; that's the gud
+      o' bein' a clean-bluided, weel-livin'&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Preserve ye, man, what's wrang wi' ye? it's a mercy a' keppit ye, or we
+      wud hev hed anither job for Sir George.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo; Marget
+      took him in and let him kneel by Annie's bedside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He said nothing then or afterwards, for speech came only once in his
+      lifetime to Tammas, but Annie whispered, &ldquo;Ma ain dear man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the doctor placed the precious bag beside Sir George in our solitary
+      first next morning, he laid a cheque beside it and was about to leave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; said the great man. &ldquo;Mrs. Macfayden and I were on the gossip
+      last night, and I know the whole story about you and your friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have some right to call me a coward, but I'll never let you count me
+      a mean, miserly rascal,&rdquo; and the cheque with Drumsheugh's painful writing
+      fell in fifty pieces on the floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link074" id="link074"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/074.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="074.jpg (107K)" src="images/074.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the train began to move, a voice from the first called so that all the
+      station heard. &ldquo;Give's another shake of your hand, MacLure; I'm proud to
+      have met you; you are an honor to our profession. Mind the antiseptic
+      dressings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was market day, but only Jamie Soutar and Hillocks had ventured down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did ye hear yon, Hillocks? hoo dae ye feel? A'll no deny a'm lifted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Halfway to the Junction Hillocks had recovered, and began to grasp the
+      situation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell's what he said. A' wud like to hae it exact for Drumsheugh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thae's the eedentical words, an' they're true; there's no a man in
+      Drumtochty disna ken that, except ane.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' wha's thar, Jamie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's Weelum MacLure himsel. Man, a've often girned that he sud fecht awa
+      for us a', and maybe dee before he kent that he hed githered mair luve
+      than ony man in the Glen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'A'm prood tae hae met ye', says Sir George, an' him the greatest doctor
+      in the land. 'Yir an honor tae oor profession.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hillocks, a' wudna hae missed it for twenty notes,&rdquo; said James Soutar,
+      cynic-in-ordinary to the parish of Drumtochty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> <a name="linkIII" id="linkIII"></a> <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      A FIGHT WITH DEATH.
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link078" id="link078"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/078.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="078.jpg (67K)" src="images/078.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Drumsheugh's grieve was brought to the gates of death by fever,
+      caught, as was supposed, on an adventurous visit to Glasgow, the London
+      doctor at Lord Kilspindie's shooting lodge looked in on his way from the
+      moor, and declared it impossible for Saunders to live through the night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I give him six hours, more or less; it is only a question of time,&rdquo; said
+      the oracle, buttoning his gloves and getting into the brake; &ldquo;tell your
+      parish doctor that I was sorry not to have met him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Bell heard this verdict from behind the door, and gave way utterly, but
+      Drumsheugh declined to accept it as final, and devoted himself to
+      consolation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dinna greet like that, Bell wumman, sae lang as Saunders is still
+      living'; a'll never give up houp, for ma pairt, till oor ain man says the
+      word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' the doctors in the land dinna ken as muckle aboot us as Weelum
+      MacLure, an' he's ill tae beat when he's trying tae save a man's life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      MacLure, on his coming, would say nothing, either weal or woe, till he had
+      examined Saunders. Suddenly his face turned into iron before their eyes,
+      and he looked like one encountering a merciless foe. For there was a feud
+      between MacLure and a certain mighty power which had lasted for forty
+      years in Drumtochty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link080" id="link080"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/080.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="080.jpg (86K)" src="images/080.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The London doctor said that Saunders wud sough awa afore mornin', did he?
+      Weel, he's an authority on fevers an' sic like diseases, an' ought tae
+      ken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's may be presumptous o' me tae differ frae him, and it wudna be verra
+      respectfu' o' Saunders tae live aifter this opeenion. But Saunders wes awe
+      thraun an' ill tae drive, an' he's as like as no tae gang his own gait.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A'm no meanin' tae reflect on sae clever a man, but he didna ken the
+      seetuation. He can read fevers like a buik, but he never cam across sic a
+      thing as the Drumtochty constitution a' his days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye see, when onybody gets as low as puir Saunders here, it's juist a hand
+      to hand wrastle atween the fever and his constitution, an' of coorse, if
+      he had been a shilpit, stuntit, feckless effeegy o' a cratur, fed on tea
+      an' made dishes and pushioned wi' bad air, Saunders wud hae nae chance; he
+      wes boond tae gae oot like the snuff o' a candle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link082" id="link082"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/082.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="082.jpg (76K)" src="images/082.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But Saunders hes been fillin' his lungs for five and thirty year wi'
+      strong Drumtochty air, an' eatin' naethin' but kirny aitmeal, and drinkin'
+      naethin' but fresh milk frae the coo, an' followin' the ploo through the
+      new-turned sweet-smellin' earth, an' swingin' the scythe in haytime and
+      harvest, till the legs an' airms o' him were iron, an' his chest wes like
+      the cuttin' o' an oak tree.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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 hesna sinned
+      against Nature, and Nature 'ill stand by him noo in his oor o' distress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' daurna say yea, Bell, muckle as a' wud like, for this is an evil
+      disease, cunnin, an' treacherous as the deevil himsel', but a' winna say
+      nay, sae keep yir hert frae despair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It wull be a sair fecht, but it 'ill be settled one wy or anither by sax
+      o'clock the morn's morn. Nae man can prophecee hoo it 'ill end, but ae
+      thing is certain, a'll no see deith tak a Drumtochty man afore his time if
+      a' can help it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Noo, Bell ma wumman, yir near deid wi' tire, an' nae wonder. Ye've dune
+      a' ye cud for yir man, an' ye'll lippen (trust) him the nicht tae
+      Drumsheugh an' me; we 'ill no fail him or you.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lie doon an' rest, an' if it be the wull o' the Almichty a'll wauken ye
+      in the mornin' tae see a livin' conscious man, an' if it be ither-wise
+      a'll come for ye the suner, Bell,&rdquo; and the big red hand went out to the
+      anxious wife. &ldquo;A' gie ye ma word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Bell leant over the bed, and at the sight of Saunders' face a
+      superstitious dread seized her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See, doctor, the shadow of deith is on him that never lifts. A've seen it
+      afore, on ma father an' mither. A' canna leave him, a' canna leave him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link085" id="link085"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/085.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="085.jpg (100K)" src="images/085.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The doctors in the toons hae nurses an' a' kinds o' handy apparatus,&rdquo;
+       said MacLure to Drumsheugh when Bell had gone, &ldquo;but you an' me 'ill need
+      tae be nurse the nicht, an' use sic things as we hev.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It 'ill be a lang nicht and anxious wark, but a' wud raither hae ye, auld
+      freend, wi' me than ony man in the Glen. Ye're no feared tae gie a hand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me feared? No, likely. Man, Saunders cam tae me a haflin, and hes been on
+      Drumsheugh for twenty years, an' though he be a dour chiel, he's a
+      faithfu' servant as ever lived. It's waesome tae see him lyin' there
+      moanin' like some dumb animal frae mornin' tae nicht, an' no able tae
+      answer his ain wife when she speaks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Div ye think, Weelum, he hes a chance?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That he hes, at ony rate, and it 'ill no be your blame or mine if he
+      hesna mair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While he was speaking, MacLure took off his coat and waistcoat and hung
+      them on the back of the door. Then he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt
+      and laid bare two arms that were nothing but bone and muscle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It gar'd ma very blood rin faster tae the end of ma fingers juist tae
+      look at him,&rdquo; Drumsheugh expatiated afterwards to Hillocks, &ldquo;for a' saw
+      noo that there was tae be a stand-up fecht atween him an' deith for
+      Saunders, and when a' thocht o' Bell an' her bairns, a' kent wha wud win.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Aff wi' yir coat, Drumsheugh,' said MacLure; 'ye 'ill need tae bend yir
+      back the nicht; gither a' the pails in the hoose and fill them at the
+      spring, an' a'll come doon tae help ye wi' the carryin'.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a wonderful ascent up the steep pathway from the spring to the
+      cottage on its little knoll, the two men in single file, bareheaded,
+      silent, solemn, each with a pail of water in either hand, MacLure limping
+      painfully in front, Drumsheugh blowing behind; and when they laid down
+      their burden in the sick room, where the bits of furniture had been put to
+      a side and a large tub held the centre, Drumsheugh looked curiously at the
+      doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link088" id="link088"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/088.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="088.jpg (70K)" src="images/088.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, a'm no daft; ye needna be feared; but yir tae get yir first lesson in
+      medicine the nicht, an' if we win the battle ye can set up for yersel in
+      the Glen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's twa dangers&mdash;that Saunders' strength fails, an' that the
+      force o' the fever grows; and we have juist twa weapons.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yon milk on the drawers' head an' the bottle of whisky is tae keep up the
+      strength, and this cool caller water is tae keep doon the fever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We 'ill cast oot the fever by the virtue o' the earth an' the water.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Div ye mean tae pit Saunders in the tub?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye hiv it noo, Drumsheugh, and that's hoo a' need yir help.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Man, Hillocks,&rdquo; Drumsheugh used to moralize, as often as he remembered
+      that critical night, &ldquo;it wes humblin' tae see hoo low sickness can bring a
+      pooerfu' man, an' ocht tae keep us frae pride.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hillocks, a' wudna hae wished ony man tae hev seen Saunders&mdash;for it
+      wull never pass frae before ma een as long as a' live&mdash;but a' wish a'
+      the Glen hed stude by MacLure kneelin' on the floor wi' his sleeves up tae
+      his oxters and waitin' on Saunders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yon big man wes as pitifu' an' gentle as a wumman, and when he laid the
+      puir fallow in his bed again, he happit him ower as a mither dis her
+      bairn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thrice it was done, Drumsheugh ever bringing up colder water from the
+      spring, and twice MacLure was silent; but after the third time there was a
+      gleam in his eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We're haudin' oor ain; we're no bein' maistered, at ony rate; mair a'
+      canna say for three oors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We 'ill no need the water again, Drumsheugh; gae oot and tak a breath o'
+      air; a'm on gaird masel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the hour before daybreak, and Drumsheugh wandered through fields he
+      had trodden since childhood. The cattle lay sleeping in the pastures;
+      their shadowy forms, with a patch of whiteness here and there, having a
+      weird suggestion of death. He heard the burn running over the stones;
+      fifty years ago he had made a dam that lasted till winter. The hooting of
+      an owl made him start; one had frightened him as a boy so that he ran home
+      to his mother&mdash;she died thirty years ago. The smell of ripe corn
+      filled the air; it would soon be cut and garnered. He could see the dim
+      outlines of his house, all dark and cold; no one he loved was beneath the
+      roof. The lighted window in Saunders' cottage told where a man hung
+      between life and death, but love was in that home. The futility of life
+      arose before this lonely man, and overcame his heart with an indescribable
+      sadness. What a vanity was all human labour, what a mystery all human
+      life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link091" id="link091"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/091.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="091.jpg (50K)" src="images/091.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But while he stood, subtle change came over the night, and the air
+      trembled round him as if one had whispered. Drumsheugh lifted his head and
+      looked eastwards. A faint grey stole over the distant horizon, and
+      suddenly a cloud reddened before his eyes. The sun was not in sight, but
+      was rising, and sending forerunners before his face. The cattle began to
+      stir, a blackbird burst into song, and before Drumsheugh crossed the
+      threshold of Saunders' house, the first ray of the sun had broken on a
+      peak of the Grampians.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      MacLure left the bedside, and as the light of the candle fell on the
+      doctor's face, Drumsheugh could see that it was going well with Saunders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's nae waur; an' it's half six noo; it's ower sune tae say mair, but
+      a'm houpin' for the best. Sit doon and take a sleep, for ye're needin' 't,
+      Drumsheugh, an', man, ye hae worked for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he dozed off, the last thing Drumsheugh saw was the doctor sitting
+      erect in his chair, a clenched fist resting on the bed, and his eyes
+      already bright with the vision of victory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He awoke with a start to find the room flooded with the morning sunshine,
+      and every trace of last night's work removed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor was bending over the bed, and speaking to Saunders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's me, Saunders, Doctor MacLure, ye ken; dinna try tae speak or move;
+      juist let this drap milk slip ower&mdash;ye 'ill be needin' yir breakfast,
+      lad&mdash;and gang tae sleep again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link094" id="link094"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/094.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="094.jpg (96K)" src="images/094.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Five minutes, and Saunders had fallen into a deep, healthy sleep, all
+      tossing and moaning come to an end. Then MacLure stepped softly across the
+      floor, picked up his coat and waistcoat, and went out at the door.
+      Drumsheugh arose and followed him without a word. They passed through the
+      little garden, sparkling with dew, and beside the byre, where Hawkie
+      rattled her chain, impatient for Bell's coming, and by Saunders' little
+      strip of corn ready for the scythe, till they reached an open field. There
+      they came to a halt, and Doctor MacLure for once allowed himself to go.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His coat he flung east and his waistcoat west, as far as he could hurl
+      them, and it was plain he would have shouted had he been a complete mile
+      from Saunders' room. Any less distance was useless for the adequate
+      expression. He struck Drumsheugh a mighty blow that well-nigh levelled
+      that substantial man in the dust and then the doctor of Drumtochty issued
+      his bulletin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Saunders wesna tae live through the nicht, but he's livin' this meenut,
+      an' like to live.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's got by the warst clean and fair, and wi' him that's as good as cure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It' ill be a graund waukenin' for Bell; she 'ill no be a weedow yet, nor
+      the bairnies fatherless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's nae use glowerin' at me, Drumsheugh, for a body's daft at a time,
+      an' a' canna contain masel' and a'm no gaein' tae try.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then it dawned on Drumsheugh that the doctor was attempting the Highland
+      fling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's 'ill made tae begin wi',&rdquo; Drumsheugh explained in the kirkyard next
+      Sabbath, &ldquo;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' the Hielan flings
+      a' ever saw yon wes the bonniest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' hevna shaken ma ain legs for thirty years, but a' confess tae a turn
+      masel. Ye may lauch an' ye like, neeburs, but the thocht o' Bell an' the
+      news that wes waitin' her got the better o' me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link097" id="link097"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/097.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="097.jpg (57K)" src="images/097.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumtochty did not laugh. Drumtochty looked as if it could have done quite
+      otherwise for joy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' wud hae made a third gin a hed been there,&rdquo; announced Hillocks,
+      aggressively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link098" id="link098"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/098.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="098.jpg (37K)" src="images/098.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come on, Drumsheugh,&rdquo; said Jamie Soutar, &ldquo;gie's the end o't; it wes a
+      michty mornin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'We're twa auld fules,' says MacLure tae me, and he gaithers up his
+      claithes. 'It wud set us better tae be tellin' Bell.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She wes sleepin' on the top o' her bed wrapped in a plaid, fair worn oot
+      wi' three weeks' nursin' o' Saunders, but at the first touch she was oot
+      upon the floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Is Saunders deein', doctor?' she cries. 'Ye promised tae wauken me;
+      dinna tell me it's a' ower.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'There's nae deein' aboot him, Bell; ye're no tae lose yir man this time,
+      sae far as a' can see. Come ben an' jidge for yersel'.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bell lookit at Saunders, and the tears of joy fell on the bed like rain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'The shadow's lifted,' she said; 'he's come back frae the mooth o' the
+      tomb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'A' prayed last nicht that the Lord wud leave Saunders till the laddies
+      cud dae for themselves, an' thae words came intae ma mind, 'Weepin' may
+      endure for a nicht, but joy cometh in the mornin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'The Lord heard ma prayer, and joy hes come in the mornin',' an' she
+      gripped the doctor's hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link100" id="link100"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/100.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="100.jpg (63K)" src="images/100.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Ye've been the instrument, Doctor MacLure. Ye wudna gie him up, and ye
+      did what nae ither cud for him, an' a've ma man the day, and the bairns
+      hae their father.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' afore MacLure kent what she was daein', Bell lifted his hand to her
+      lips an' kissed it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did she, though?&rdquo; cried Jamie. &ldquo;Wha wud hae thocht there wes as muckle
+      spunk in Bell?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;MacLure, of coorse, was clean scandalized,&rdquo; continued Drumsheugh, &ldquo;an'
+      pooed awa his hand as if it hed been burned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nae man can thole that kind o' fraikin', and a' never heard o' sic a
+      thing in the parish, but we maun excuse Bell, neeburs; it wes an occasion
+      by ordinar,&rdquo; and Drumsheugh made Bell's apology to Drumtochty for such an
+      excess of feeling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' see naethin' tae excuse,&rdquo; insisted Jamie, who was in great fettle that
+      Sabbath; &ldquo;the doctor hes never been burdened wi' fees, and a'm judgin' he
+      coonted a wumman's gratitude that he saved frae weedowhood the best he
+      ever got.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link102" id="link102"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/102.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="102.jpg (90K)" src="images/102.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' gaed up tae the Manse last nicht,&rdquo; concluded Drumsheugh, &ldquo;and telt the
+      minister hoo the doctor focht aucht oors for Saunders' life, an' won, and
+      ye never saw a man sae carried. He walkit up and doon the room a' the
+      time, and every other meenut he blew his nose like a trumpet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'I've a cold in my head to-night, Drumsheugh,' says he; 'never mind me.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A've hed the same masel in sic circumstances; they come on sudden,&rdquo; said
+      Jamie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' wager there 'ill be a new bit in the laist prayer the day, an'
+      somethin' worth hearin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the fathers went into kirk in great expectation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We beseech Thee for such as be sick, that Thy hand may be on them for
+      good, and that Thou wouldst restore them again to health and strength,&rdquo;
+       was the familiar petition of every Sabbath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The congregation waited in a silence that might be heard, and were not
+      disappointed that morning, for the minister continued:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Especially we tender Thee hearty thanks that Thou didst spare Thy servant
+      who was brought down into the dust of death, and hast given him back to
+      his wife and children, and unto that end didst wonderfully bless the skill
+      of him who goes out and in amongst us, the beloved physician of this
+      parish and adjacent districts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didna a' tell ye, neeburs?&rdquo; said Jamie, as they stood at the kirkyard
+      gate before dispersing; &ldquo;there's no a man in the coonty cud hae dune it
+      better. 'Beloved physician,' an' his 'skill,' tae, an' bringing in
+      'adjacent districts'; that's Glen Urtach; it wes handsome, and the doctor
+      earned it, ay, every word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's an awfu' peety he didna hear you; but dear knows whar he is the day,
+      maist likely up&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jamie stopped suddenly at the sound of a horse's feet, and there, coming
+      down the avenue of beech trees that made a long vista from the kirk gate,
+      they saw the doctor and Jess.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One thought flashed through the minds of the fathers of the commonwealth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It ought to be done as he passed, and it would be done if it were not
+      Sabbath. Of course it was out of the question on Sabbath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor is now distinctly visible, riding after his fashion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was never such a chance, if it were only Saturday; and each man
+      reads his own regret in his neighbor's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor is nearing them rapidly; they can imagine the shepherd's
+      tartan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sabbath or no Sabbath, the Glen cannot let him pass without some tribute
+      of their pride.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jess had recognized friends, and the doctor is drawing rein.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It hes tae be dune,&rdquo; said Jamie desperately, &ldquo;say what ye like.&rdquo; Then
+      they all looked towards him, and Jamie led.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link106" id="link106"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/106.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="106.jpg (71K)" src="images/106.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hurrah,&rdquo; swinging his Sabbath hat in the air, &ldquo;hurrah,&rdquo; and once more,
+      &ldquo;hurrah,&rdquo; Whinnie Knowe, Drumsheugh, and Hillocks joining lustily, but
+      Tammas Mitchell carrying all before him, for he had found at last an
+      expression for his feelings that rendered speech unnecessary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a solitary experience for horse and rider, and Jess bolted without
+      delay. But the sound followed and surrounded them, and as they passed the
+      corner of the kirkyard, a figure waved his college cap over the wall and
+      gave a cheer on his own account.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;God bless you, doctor, and well done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If it isna the minister,&rdquo; cried Drumsheugh, &ldquo;in his goon an' bans, tae
+      think o' that; but a' respeck him for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Drumtochty became self-conscious, and went home in confusion of face
+      and unbroken silence, except Jamie Soutar, who faced his neighbors at the
+      parting of the ways without shame.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' wud dae it a' ower again if a' hed the chance; he got naethin' but his
+      due.&rdquo; It was two miles before Jess composed her mind, and the doctor and
+      she could discuss it quietly together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' can hardly believe ma ears, Jess, an' the Sabbath tae; their verra
+      jidgment hes gane frae the fouk o' Drumtochty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They've heard about Saunders, a'm thinkin', wumman, and they're pleased
+      we brocht him roond; he's fairly on the mend, ye ken, noo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' never expeckit the like o' this, though, and it wes juist a wee
+      thingie mair than a' cud hae stude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye hev yir share in't tae, lass; we've hed mony a hard nicht and day
+      thegither, an' yon wes oor reward. No mony men in this warld 'ill ever get
+      a better, for it cam frae the hert o' honest fouk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="linkIV" id="linkIV"></a> <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY.
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /> <a name="link110" id="link110"></a> <br /><br /> <a
+      href="images/110.png">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="110.jpg (68K)" src="images/110.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumtochty had a vivid recollection of the winter when Dr. MacLure was
+      laid up for two months with a broken leg, and the Glen was dependent on
+      the dubious ministrations of the Kildrummie doctor. Mrs. Macfayden also
+      pretended to recall a &ldquo;whup&rdquo; of some kind or other he had in the fifties,
+      but this was considered to be rather a pyrotechnic display of Elspeth's
+      superior memory than a serious statement of fact. MacLure could not have
+      ridden through the snow of forty winters without suffering, yet no one
+      ever heard him complain, and he never pled illness to any messenger by
+      night or day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It took me,&rdquo; said Jamie Soutar to Milton afterwards, &ldquo;the feck o' ten
+      meenuts tae howk him 'an' Jess oot ae snawy nicht when Drums turned bad
+      sudden, and if he didna try to excuse himself for no hearing me at aince
+      wi' some story aboot juist comin' in frae Glen Urtach, and no bein' in his
+      bed for the laist twa nichts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He wes that carefu' o' himsel an' lazy that if it hedna been for the
+      siller, a've often thocht, Milton, he wud never hae dune a handstroke o'
+      wark in the Glen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What scunnered me wes the wy the bairns were ta'en in wi' him. Man, a've
+      seen him tak a wee laddie on his knee that his ain mither cudna quiet, an'
+      lilt 'Sing a song o' saxpence' till the bit mannie would be lauchin' like
+      a gude are, an' pooin' the doctor's beard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link112" id="link112"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/112.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="112.jpg (57K)" src="images/112.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As for the weemen, he fair cuist a glamour ower them; they're daein'
+      naethin' noo but speak aboot this body and the ither he cured, an' hoo he
+      aye hed a couthy word for sick fouk. Weemen hae nae discernment, Milton;
+      tae hear them speak ye wud think MacLure hed been a releegious man like
+      yersel, although, as ye said, he wes little mair than a Gallio.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bell Baxter was haverin' awa in the shop tae sic an extent aboot the wy
+      MacLure brocht roond Saunders when he hed the fever that a' gied oot at
+      the door, a' wes that disgusted, an' a'm telt when Tammas Mitchell heard
+      the news in the smiddy he wes juist on the greeting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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 as
+      sune as ye cam intae the pairish.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It is the penalty of a cynic that he must have some relief for his secret
+      grief, and Milton began to weary of life in Jamie's hands during those
+      days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumtochty was not observant in the matter of health, but they had grown
+      sensitive about Dr. MacLure, and remarked in the kirkyard all summer that
+      he was failing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He wes aye spare,&rdquo; said Hillocks, &ldquo;an' he's been sair twisted for the
+      laist twenty year, but a' never mind him booed till the year. An' he's
+      gaein' intae sma' buke (bulk), an' a' dinna like that, neeburs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Glen wudna dae weel withoot Weelum MacLure, an' he's no as young as
+      he wes. Man, Drumsheugh, ye micht wile him aff tae the saut water atween
+      the neeps and the hairst. He's been workin' forty year for a holiday, an'
+      it's aboot due.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumsheugh was full of tact, and met MacLure quite by accident on the
+      road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Saunders'll no need me till the shearing begins,&rdquo; he explained to the
+      doctor, &ldquo;an' a'm gaein' tae Brochty for a turn o' the hot baths; they're
+      fine for the rheumatics.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link115" id="link115"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/115.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="115.jpg (49K)" src="images/115.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wull ye no come wi' me for auld lang syne? it's lonesome for a solitary
+      man, an' it wud dae ye gude.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Na, na, Drumsheugh,&rdquo; said MacLure, who understood perfectly, &ldquo;a've dune
+      a' thae years withoot a break, an' a'm laith (unwilling) tae be takin'
+      holidays at the tail end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A'll no be mony months wi' ye a' thegither noo, an' a'm wanting tae spend
+      a' the time a' hev in the Glen. Ye see yersel that a'll sune be getting ma
+      lang rest, an' a'll no deny that a'm wearyin' for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As autumn passed into winter, the Glen noticed that the doctor's hair had
+      turned grey, and that his manner had lost all its roughness. A feeling of
+      secret gratitude filled their hearts, and they united in a conspiracy of
+      attention. Annie Mitchell knitted a huge comforter in red and white, which
+      the doctor wore in misery for one whole day, out of respect for Annie, and
+      then hung it in his sitting-room as a wall ornament. Hillocks used to
+      intercept him with hot drinks, and one drifting day compelled him to
+      shelter till the storm abated. Flora Campbell brought a wonderful compound
+      of honey and whiskey, much tasted in Auchindarroch, for his cough, and the
+      mother of young Burnbrae filled his cupboard with black jam, as a healing
+      measure. Jamie Soutar seemed to have an endless series of jobs in the
+      doctor's direction, and looked in &ldquo;juist tae rest himsel&rdquo; in the kitchen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      MacLure had been slowly taking in the situation, and at last he unburdened
+      himself one night to Jamie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What ails the fouk, think ye? for they're aye lecturin' me noo tae tak
+      care o' the weet and tae wrap masel up, an' there's no a week but they're
+      sendin' bit presents tae the house, till a'm fair ashamed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oo, a'll explain that in a meenut,&rdquo; answered Jamie, &ldquo;for a' ken the Glen
+      weel. Ye see they're juist try in' the Scripture plan o' heapin' coals o'
+      fire on yer head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link118" id="link118"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/118.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="118.jpg (128K)" src="images/118.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here ye've been negleckin' the fouk in seeckness an' lettin' them dee
+      afore their freends' eyes withoot a fecht, an' refusin' tae gang tae a
+      puir wumman in her tribble, an' frichtenin' the bairns&mdash;no, a'm no
+      dune&mdash;and scourgin' us wi' fees, and livin' yersel' on the fat o' the
+      land.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye've been carryin' on this trade ever sin yir father dee'd, and the Glen
+      didna notis. But ma word, they've fund ye oot at laist, an' they're gaein'
+      tae mak ye suffer for a' yir ill usage. Div ye understand noo?&rdquo; said
+      Jamie, savagely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a while MacLure was silent, and then he only said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's little a' did for the puir bodies; but ye hev a gude hert, Jamie, a
+      rael good hert.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a bitter December Sabbath, and the fathers were settling the
+      affairs of the parish ankle deep in snow, when MacLure's old housekeeper
+      told Drumsheugh that the doctor was not able to rise, and wished to see
+      him in the afternoon. &ldquo;Ay, ay,&rdquo; said Hillocks, shaking his head, and that
+      day Drumsheugh omitted four pews with the ladle, while Jamie was so
+      vicious on the way home that none could endure him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Janet had lit a fire in the unused grate, and hung a plaid by the window
+      to break the power of the cruel north wind, but the bare room with its
+      half-a-dozen bits of furniture and a worn strip of carpet, and the outlook
+      upon the snow drifted up to the second pane of the window and the black
+      firs laden with their icy burden, sent a chill to Drumsheugh's heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor had weakened sadly, and could hardly lift his head, but his
+      face lit up at the sight of his visitor, and the big hand, which was now
+      quite refined in its whiteness, came out from the bed-clothes with the old
+      warm grip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link121" id="link121"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/121.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="121.jpg (72K)" src="images/121.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' wesna sure till last nicht, an' then a' felt it wudna be lang, an' a'
+      took a wearyin' this mornin' tae see ye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumsheugh was much shaken, and the sound of the Christian name, which he
+      had not heard since his mother's death, gave him a &ldquo;grue&rdquo; (shiver), as if
+      one had spoken from the other world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's maist awfu' tae hear ye speakin' aboot deein', Weelum; a' canna bear
+      it. We 'ill hae the Muirtown doctor up, an' ye 'ill be aboot again in nae
+      time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye hevna ony sair tribble; ye're juist trachled wi' hard wark an' needin'
+      a rest. Dinna say ye're gaein' tae leave us, Weelum; we canna dae withoot
+      ye in Drumtochty;&rdquo; and Drumsheugh looked wistfully for some word of hope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Na, na, Paitrick, naethin' can be dune, an' it's ower late tae send for
+      ony doctor. There's a knock that canna be mista'en, an' a' heard it last
+      night. A've focht deith for ither fouk mair than forty year, but ma ain
+      time hes come at laist.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A've nae tribble worth mentionin'&mdash;a bit titch o' bronchitis&mdash;an'
+      a've hed a graund constitution; but a'm fair worn oot, Paitrick; that's ma
+      complaint, an' its past curin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumsheugh went over to the fireplace, and for a while did nothing but
+      break up the smouldering peats, whose smoke powerfully affected his nose
+      and eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link124" id="link124"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/124.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="124.jpg (82K)" src="images/124.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When ye're ready, Paitrick, there's twa or three little trokes a' wud
+      like ye tae look aifter, an' a'll tell ye aboot them as lang's ma head's
+      clear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' didna keep buiks, as ye ken, for a' aye hed a guid memory, so naebody
+      'ill be harried for money aifter ma deith, and ye 'ill hae nae accoonts
+      tae collect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the fouk are honest in Drumtochty, and they 'ill be offerin' ye
+      siller, an' a'll gie ye ma mind aboot it. Gin it be a puir body, tell her
+      tae keep it and get a bit plaidie wi' the money, and she 'ill maybe think
+      o' her auld doctor at a time. Gin it be a bien (well-to-do) man, tak half
+      of what he offers, for a Drumtochty man wud scorn to be mean in sic
+      circumstances; and if onybody needs a doctor an' canna pay for him, see
+      he's no left tae dee when a'm oot o' the road.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nae fear o' that as lang as a'm livin', Weelum; that hundred's still tae
+      the fore, ye ken, an' a'll tak care it's weel spent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yon wes the best job we ever did thegither, an' dookin' Saunders, ye 'ill
+      no forget that nicht, Weelum&rdquo;&mdash;a gleam came into the doctor's eyes&mdash;&ldquo;tae
+      say neathin' o' the Highlan' fling.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The remembrance of that great victory came upon Drumsheugh, and tried his
+      fortitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a' for the best, Paitrick, an' ye 'ill see that in a whilie. A've
+      kent fine that ma day wes ower, an' that ye sud hae a younger man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' did what a' cud tae keep up wi' the new medicine, but a' hed little
+      time for readin', an' nane for traivellin'.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Weelum, gin ye cairry on sic nonsense ony langer,&rdquo; interrupted
+      Drumsheugh, huskily, &ldquo;a'll leave the hoose; a' canna stand it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's the truth, Paitrick, but we 'ill gae on wi' our wark, far a'm
+      failin' fast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But a' wudna like ye tae sell Jess, for she's been a faithfu' servant,
+      an' a freend tae. There's a note or twa in that drawer a' savit, an' if ye
+      kent ony man that wud gie her a bite o' grass and a sta' in his stable
+      till she followed her maister&mdash;'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Confoond ye, Weelum,&rdquo; broke out Drumsheugh; &ldquo;its doonricht cruel o' ye to
+      speak like this tae me. Whar wud Jess gang but tae Drumsheugh? she 'ill
+      hae her run o' heck an' manger sae lang as she lives; the Glen wudna like
+      tae see anither man on Jess, and nae man 'ill ever touch the auld mare.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link128" id="link128"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/128.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="128.jpg (57K)" src="images/128.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dinna mind me, Paitrick, for a&rdquo; expeckit this; but ye ken we're no verra
+      gleg wi' oor tongues in Drumtochty, an' dinna tell a' that's in oor
+      hearts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Weel, that's a' that a' mind, an' the rest a' leave tae yersel'. A've
+      neither kith nor kin tae bury me, sae you an' the neeburs 'ill need tae
+      lat me doon; but gin Tammas Mitchell or Saunders be stannin' near and
+      lookin' as if they wud like a cord, gie't tae them, Paitrick. They're
+      baith dour chiels, and haena muckle tae say, but Tammas hes a graund hert,
+      and there's waur fouk in the Glen than Saunders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye 'ill find ma mither's Bible on the drawers' heid, but ye 'ill need tae
+      come close tae the bed, for a'm no hearin' or seein' sae weel as a' wes
+      when ye cam.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumsheugh put on his spectacles and searched for a comfortable Scripture,
+      while the light of the lamp fell on his shaking hands and the doctor's
+      face where the shadow was now settling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link130" id="link130"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/130.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="130.jpg (48K)" src="images/130.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ma mither aye wantit this read tae her when she wes sober&rdquo; (weak), and
+      Drumsheugh began, &ldquo;In My Father's house are many mansions,&rdquo; but MacLure
+      stopped him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a bonnie word, an' yir mither wes a sanct; but it's no for the like
+      o' me. It's ower gude; a' daurna tak it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shut the buik an' let it open itsel, an' ye 'ill get a bit a've been
+      readin' every nicht the laist month.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Drumsheugh found the Parable wherein the Master tells us what God
+      thinks of a Pharisee and of a penitent sinner, till he came to the words:
+      &ldquo;And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his
+      eyes to heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a
+      sinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That micht hae been written for me, Paitrick, or ony ither auld sinner
+      that hes feenished his life, an' hes naethin' tae say for himsel'.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It wesna easy for me tae get tae kirk, but a' cud hae managed wi' a
+      stretch, 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's ower late tae mend, but ye 'ill maybe juist say to the fouk that I
+      wes sorry, an' a'm houpin' that the Almichty 'ill hae mercy on me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cud ye ... pit up a bit prayer, Paitrick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' haena the words,&rdquo; said Drumsheugh in great distress; &ldquo;wud ye like's
+      tae send for the minister?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's no the time for that noo, an' a' wud rather hae yersel'&mdash;juist
+      what's in yir heart, Paitrick: the Almichty 'ill ken the lave (rest)
+      Himsel'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So Drumsheugh knelt and prayed with many pauses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Almichty God ... dinna be hard on Weelum MacLure, for he's no been hard
+      wi' onybody in Drumtochty.... Be kind tae him as he's been tae us a' for
+      forty year.... We're a' sinners afore Thee.... Forgive him what he's dune
+      wrang, an' dinna cuist it up tae him.... Mind the fouk he's helpit ....
+      the wee-men an' bairnies.... an' gie him a welcome hame, for he's sair
+      needin't after a' his wark.... Amen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank ye, Paitrick, and gude nicht tae ye. Ma ain true freend, gie's yir
+      hand, for a'll maybe no ken ye again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Noo a'll say ma mither's prayer and hae a sleep, but ye 'ill no leave me
+      till a' is ower.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he repeated as he had done every night of his life:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This night I lay me down to sleep,<br /> I pray the Lord my soul to keep.<br />
+      And if I die before I wake,<br /> I pray the Lord my soul to take.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was sleeping quietly when the wind drove the snow against the window
+      with a sudden &ldquo;swish;&rdquo; and he instantly awoke, so to say, in his sleep.
+      Some one needed him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are ye frae Glen Urtach?&rdquo; and an unheard voice seemed to have answered
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Worse is she, an' suffering awfu'; that's no lichtsome; ye did richt tae
+      come.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The front door's drifted up; gang roond tae the back, an' ye 'ill get
+      intae the kitchen; a'll be ready in a meenut.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gie's a hand wi' the lantern when a'm saidling Jess, an' ye needna come
+      on till daylicht; a' ken the road.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link134" id="link134"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/134.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="134.jpg (68K)" src="images/134.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he was away in his sleep on some errand of mercy, and struggling
+      through the storm. &ldquo;It's a coorse nicht, Jess, an' heavy traivellin'; can
+      ye see afore ye, lass? for a'm clean confused wi' the snaw; bide a wee
+      till a' find the diveesion o' the roads; it's aboot here back or forrit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Steady, lass, steady, dinna plunge; i'ts a drift we're in, but ye're no
+      sinkin'; ... up noo; ... there ye are on the road again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh, it's deep the nicht, an' hard on us baith, but there's a puir wumman
+      micht dee if we didna warstle through; ... that's it; ye ken fine what a'm
+      sayin.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We 'ill hae tae leave the road here, an' tak tae the muir. Sandie 'ill no
+      can leave the wife alane tae meet us; ... feel for yersel&rdquo; lass, and keep
+      oot o' the holes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yon's the hoose black in the snaw. Sandie! man, ye frichtened us; a'
+      didna see ye ahint the dyke; hoos the wife?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After a while he began again:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye're fair dune, Jess, and so a' am masel'; we're baith gettin' auld, an'
+      dinna tak sae weel wi' the nicht wark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We 'ill sune be hame noo; this is the black wood, and it's no lang aifter
+      that; we're ready for oor beds, Jess.... ay, ye like a clap at a time;
+      mony a mile we've gaed hegither.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yon's the licht in the kitchen window; nae wonder ye're nickering
+      (neighing).... it's been a stiff journey; a'm tired, lass.... a'm tired
+      tae deith,&rdquo; and the voice died into silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor has forgotten the toil of later years, and has gone back to his
+      boyhood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link137" id="link137"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/137.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="137.jpg (95K)" src="images/137.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want,&rdquo; he repeated, till he came to the
+      last verse, and then he hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Goodness and mercy all my life<br /> Shall surely follow me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Follow me ... and ... and ... what's next? Mither said I wes tae haed
+      ready when she cam.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'A'll come afore ye gang tae sleep, Wullie, but ye 'ill no get yir kiss
+      unless ye can feenish the psalm.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And ... in God's house ... for evermore my ... hoo dis it rin? a canna
+      mind the next word ... my, my&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's ower dark noo tae read it, an' mither 'ill sune be comin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumsheugh, in an agony, whispered into his ear, &ldquo;'My dwelling-place,'
+      Weelum.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's it, that's it a' noo; wha said it?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And in God's house for evermore<br /> My dwelling-place shall be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A'm ready noo, an' a'll get ma kiss when mither comes; a' wish she wud
+      come, for a'm tired an' wantin' tae sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yon's her step ... an' she's carryin' a licht in her hand; a' see it
+      through the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mither! a' kent ye wudna forget yir laddie for ye promised tae come, and
+      a've feenished ma psalm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And in God's house for evermore<br /> My dwelling-place shall be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gie me the kiss, mither, for a've been waitin' for ye, an' a'll sune be
+      asleep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The grey morning light fell on Drumsheugh, still holding his friend's cold
+      hand, and staring at a hearth where the fire had died down into white
+      ashes; but the peace on the doctor's face was of one who rested from his
+      labours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a name="linkV" id="linkV"></a> <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link141" id="link141"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/141.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="141.jpg (68K)" src="images/141.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. MacLure was buried during the great snowstorm which is still spoken
+      of, and will remain the standard of snowfall in Drumtochty for the
+      century. The snow was deep on the Monday, and the men that gave notice of
+      his funeral had hard work to reach the doctor's distant patients. On
+      Tuesday morning it began to fall again in heavy, fleecy flakes, and
+      continued till Thursday, and then on Thursday the north wind rose and
+      swept the snow into the hollows of the roads that went to the upland
+      farms, and built it into a huge bank at the mouth of Glen Urtach, and laid
+      it across our main roads in drifts of every size and the most lovely
+      shapes, and filled up crevices in the hills to the depth of fifty feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On Friday morning the wind had sunk to passing gusts that powdered your
+      coat with white, and the sun was shining on one of those winter landscapes
+      no townsman can imagine and no countryman ever forgets. The Glen, from end
+      to end and side to side, was clothed in a glistering mantle white as no
+      fuller on earth could white it, that flung its skirts over the clumps of
+      trees and scattered farmhouses, and was only divided where the Tochty ran
+      with black, swollen stream. The great moor rose and fell in swelling
+      billows of snow that arched themselves over the burns, running deep in the
+      mossy ground, and hid the black peat bogs with a thin, treacherous crust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link143" id="link143"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/143.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="143.jpg (55K)" src="images/143.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Beyond, the hills northwards and westwards stood high in white majesty,
+      save where the black crags of Glen Urtach broke the line, and, above our
+      lower Grampians, we caught glimpses of the distant peaks that lifted their
+      heads in holiness unto God.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed to me a fitting day for William MacLure's funeral, rather than
+      summer time, with its flowers and golden corn. He had not been a soft man,
+      nor had he lived an easy life, and now he was to be laid to rest amid the
+      austere majesty of winter, yet in the shining of the sun. Jamie Soutar,
+      with whom I toiled across the Glen, did not think with me, but was gravely
+      concerned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nae doot it's a graund sicht; the like o't is no gien tae us twice in a
+      generation, an' nae king wes ever carried tae his tomb in sic a cathedral.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it's the fouk a'm conseederin', an' hoo they'll win through; it's
+      hard eneuch for them 'at's on the road, an' it's clean impossible for the
+      lave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link145" id="link145"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/145.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="145.jpg (85K)" src="images/145.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They 'ill dae their best, every man o' them, ye may depend on that, an'
+      hed it been open weather there wudna hev been six able-bodied men missin'.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' wes mad at them, because they never said onything when he wes leevin',
+      but they felt for a' that what he hed dune, an', a' think, he kent it
+      afore he deed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He hed juist ae faut, tae ma thinkin', for a' never jidged the waur o'
+      him for his titch of rochness&mdash;guid trees hae gnarled bark&mdash;but
+      he thotched ower little o' himsel'.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Noo, gin a' hed asked him hoo mony fouk wud come tae his beerial, he wud
+      hae said, 'They 'ill be Drumsheugh an' yersel', an' may be twa or three
+      neeburs besides the minister,' an' the fact is that nae man in oor time
+      wud hae sic a githerin' if it werena for the storm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link147" id="link147"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/147.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="147.jpg (59K)" src="images/147.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye see,&rdquo; said Jamie, who had been counting heads all morning, &ldquo;there's
+      six shepherds in Glen Urtaeh&mdash;they're shut up fast; an' there micht
+      hae been a gude half dizen frae Dunleith wy, an' a'm telt there's nae
+      road; an' there's the heich Glen, nae man cud cross the muir the day, an'
+      it's aucht mile round;&rdquo; and Jamie proceeded to review the Glen in every
+      detail of age, driftiness of road and strength of body, till we arrived at
+      the doctor's cottage, when he had settled on a reduction of fifty through
+      stress of weather.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link148" id="link148"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/148.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="148.jpg (69K)" src="images/148.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumsheugh was acknowledged as chief mourner by the Glen, and received us
+      at the gate with a labored attempt at everyday manners.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye've hed heavy traivellin', a' doot, an' ye 'ill be cauld. It's hard
+      weather for the sheep an' a'm thinkin' this 'ill be a feeding storm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There wes nae use trying tae dig oot the front door yestreen, for it wud
+      hae been drifted up again before morning. We've cleared awa the snow at
+      the back for the prayer; ye 'ill get in at the kitchen door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's a puckle Dunleith men&mdash;&mdash;-&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wha?&rdquo; cried Jamie in an instant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dunleith men,&rdquo; said Drumsheugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Div ye mean they're here, whar are they?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Drying themsels at the fire, an' no withoot need; ane of them gied ower
+      the head in a drift, and his neeburs hed tae pu' him oot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rdquo;&mdash;here Drumsheugh's
+      voice changed its note, and his public manner disappeared&mdash;&ldquo;what div
+      ye think o' this? every man o' them has on his blacks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's mair than cud be expeckit&rdquo; said Jamie; &ldquo;but whar dae yon men come
+      frae, Drumsheugh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They're Glen Urtach men, Jamie, for are o' them wes at Kildrummie fair
+      wi' sheep, but hoo they've wun doon passes me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It canna be, Drumsheugh,&rdquo; said Jamie, greatly excited. &ldquo;Glen Urtach's
+      steikit up wi' sna like a locked door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link151" id="link151"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/151.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="151.jpg (64K)" src="images/151.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye're no surely frae the Glen, lads?&rdquo; as the men leaped the dyke and
+      crossed to the back door, the snow falling from their plaids as they
+      walked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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' there wes
+      some kittle (hazardous) drifts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It wes grand o' ye tae mak the attempt,&rdquo; said Drumsheugh, &ldquo;an' a'm gled
+      ye're safe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He cam through as bad himsel' tae help ma wife,&rdquo; was Charlie's reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They're three mair Urtach shepherds 'ill come in by sune; they're frae
+      Upper Urtach an' we saw them fording the river; ma certes it took them a'
+      their time, for it wes up tae their waists and rinnin' like a mill lade,
+      but they jined hands and cam ower fine.&rdquo; And the Urtach men went in 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 utter indifference,
+      checked his roll till even he was satisfied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link153" id="link153"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/153.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="153.jpg (52K)" src="images/153.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Weelum MacLure 'ill hae the beerial he deserves in spite o' sna and
+      drifts; it passes a' tae see hoo they've githered frae far an' near.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dinna be sae sure o' that, Jamie. Yon's terrible like them on the road,
+      wi' Whinnie at their head;&rdquo; and so it was, twelve in all, only old Adam
+      Ross absent, detained by force, being eighty-two years of age.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It wud hae been temptin' Providence tae cross the muir,&rdquo; Whinnie
+      explained, &ldquo;and it's a fell stap roond; a' doot we're laist.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See, Jamie,&rdquo; said Drumsheugh, as he went to the house, &ldquo;gin there be ony
+      antern body in sicht afore we begin; we maun mak allooances the day wi'
+      twa feet o' sna on the grund, tae say naethin' o' drifts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's something at the turnin', an' it's no fouk; it's a machine o'
+      some kind or ither&mdash;maybe a bread cart that's focht its wy up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Na, it's no that; there's twa horses, are afore the ither; if it's no a
+      dogcairt wi' twa men in the front; they 'ill be comin' tae the beerial.&rdquo;
+       &ldquo;What wud ye sae, Jamie,&rdquo; Hillocks suggested, &ldquo;but it micht be some o'
+      thae Muirtown doctors? they were awfu' chief wi' MacLure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's nae Muirtown doctors,&rdquo; cried Jamie, in great exultation, &ldquo;nor ony
+      ither doctors. A' ken thae horses, and wha's ahind them. Quick, man,
+      Hillocks, stop the fouk, and tell Drumsheugh tae come oot, for Lord
+      Kilspindie hes come up frae Muirtown Castle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jamie himself slipped behind, and did not wish to be seen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's the respeck he's gettin' the day frae high an' low,&rdquo; was Jamie's
+      husky apology; &ldquo;tae think o' them fetchin' their wy doon frae Glen Urtach,
+      and toiling roond frae the heich Glen, an' his Lordship driving through
+      the drifts a' the road frae Muirtown, juist tae honour Weelum MacLure's
+      beerial.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link156" id="link156"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/156.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="156.jpg (52K)" src="images/156.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's nae ceremony the day, ye may lippen tae it; it's the hert brocht the
+      fouk, an' ye can see it in their faces; ilka man hes his ain reason, an'
+      he's thinkin' on't though he's speakin' o' naethin' but the storm; he's
+      mindin' the day Weelum pued him out frae the jaws o' death, or the nicht
+      he savit the gude wife in her oor o' tribble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's why they pit on their blacks this mornin' afore it wes licht, and
+      wrastled through the sna drifts at risk o' life. Drumtochty fouk canna say
+      muckle, it's an awfu' peety, and they 'ill dae their best tae show
+      naethin', but a' can read it a' in their een.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But wae's me&rdquo;&mdash;and Jamie broke down utterly behind a fir tree, so
+      tender a thing is a cynic's heart&mdash;&ldquo;that fouk 'ill tak a man's best
+      wark a' his days without a word an' no dae him honour till he dees. Oh, if
+      they hed only githered like this juist aince when he wes livin', an' lat
+      him see he hedna laboured in vain. His reward has come ower late&rdquo;.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      During Jamie's vain regret, the castle trap, bearing the marks of a wild
+      passage in the snow-covered wheels, a broken shaft tied with rope, a
+      twisted lamp, and the panting horses, pulled up between two rows of
+      farmers, and Drumsheugh received his lordship with evident emotion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ma lord ... we never thocht o' this ... an' sic a road.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How are you, Drumsheugh? and how are you all this wintry day? That's how
+      I'm half an hour late; it took us four hours' stiff work for sixteen
+      miles, mostly in the drifts, of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It wes gude o' yir lordship, tae mak sic an effort, an' the hale Glen
+      wull be gratefu' tae ye, for ony kindness tae him is kindness tae us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link159" id="link159"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/159.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="159.jpg (83K)" src="images/159.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You make too much of it, Drumsheugh,&rdquo; and the clear, firm voice was heard
+      of all; &ldquo;it would have taken more than a few snow drifts to keep me from
+      showing my respect to William MacLure's memory.&rdquo; When all had gathered in
+      a half circle before the kitchen door, Lord Kilspindie came out&mdash;every
+      man noticed he had left his overcoat, and was in black, like the Glen&mdash;and
+      took a place in the middle with Drumsheugh and Burnbrae, his two chief
+      tenants, on the right and left, and as the minister appeared every man
+      bared his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor looked on the company&mdash;a hundred men such as for strength
+      and gravity you could hardly have matched in Scotland&mdash;standing out
+      in picturesque relief against the white background, and he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a bitter day, friends, and some of you are old; perhaps it might be
+      wise to cover your heads before I begin to pray.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Kilspindie, standing erect and grey-headed between the two old men,
+      replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We thank you, Dr. Davidson, for your thoughtfulness; but he endured many
+      a storm in our service, and we are not afraid of a few minutes' cold at
+      his funeral.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A look flashed round the stern faces, and was reflected from the minister,
+      who seemed to stand higher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His prayer, we noticed with critical appreciation, was composed for the
+      occasion, and the first part was a thanksgiving to God for the life work
+      of our doctor, wherein each clause was a reference to his services and
+      sacrifices. No one moved or said Amen&mdash;it had been strange with us&mdash;but
+      when every man had heard the gratitude of his dumb heart offered to
+      heaven, there was a great sigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After which the minister prayed that we might have grace to live as this
+      man had done from youth to old age, not for himself, but for others, and
+      that we might be followed to our grave by somewhat of &ldquo;that love wherewith
+      we mourn this day Thy servant departed.&rdquo; Again the same sigh, and the
+      minister said Amen. The &ldquo;wricht&rdquo; stood in the doorway without speaking,
+      and four stalwart men came forward. They were the volunteers that would
+      lift the coffin and carry it for the first stage. One was Tammas, Annie
+      Mitchell's man; and another was Saunders Baxter, for whose life MacLure
+      had his great fight with death; and the third was the Glen Urtach shepherd
+      for whose wife's sake MacLure suffered a broken leg and three fractured
+      ribs in a drift; and the fourth, a Dunleith man, had his own reasons of
+      remembrance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's far lichter than ye wud expeck for sae big a man&mdash;there wesna
+      muckle left o' him, ye see&mdash;but the road is heavy, and a'il change ye
+      aifter the first half mile.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye needna tribble yersel, wricht,&rdquo; said the man from Glen Urtach; &ldquo;the'll
+      be nae change in the cairryin' the day,&rdquo; and Tammas was thankful some one
+      had saved him speaking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Surely no funeral is like unto that of a doctor for pathos, and a peculiar
+      sadness fell on that company as his body was carried out who for nearly
+      half a century had been their help in sickness, and had beaten back death
+      time after time from their door. Death after all was victor, for the man
+      that had saved them had not been able to save himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the coffin passed the stable door a horse nieghed within, and every man
+      looked at his neighbour. It was his old mare crying to her master.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jamie slipped into the stable, and went up into the stall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Puir lass, ye're no gaen' wi' him the day, an' ye 'ill never see him
+      again; ye've hed yir last ride thegither, an' ye were true tae the end.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link164" id="link164"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/164.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="164.jpg (102K)" src="images/164.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After the funeral Drumsheugh came himself for Jess, and took her to his
+      farm. Saunders made a bed for her with soft, dry straw, and prepared for
+      her supper such things as horses love. Jess would neither take food nor
+      rest, but moved uneasily in her stall, and seemed to be waiting for some
+      one that never came. No man knows what a horse or a dog understands and
+      feels, for God hath not given them our speech. If any footstep was heard
+      in the courtyard, she began to neigh, and was always looking round as the
+      door opened. But nothing would tempt her to eat, and in the night-time
+      Drumsheugh heard her crying as if she expected to be taken out for some
+      sudden journey. The Kildrummie veterinary came to see her, and said that
+      nothing could be done when it happened after this fashion with an old
+      horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link165" id="link165"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/165.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="165.jpg (68K)" src="images/165.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A've seen it aince afore,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Gin she were a Christian instead o'
+      a horse, ye micht say she wes dying o' a broken hert.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He recommended that she should be shot to end her misery, but no man could
+      be found in the Glen to do the deed and Jess relieved them of the trouble.
+      When Drumsheugh went to the stable on Monday morning, a week after Dr.
+      MacLure fell on sleep, Jess was resting at last, but her eyes were open
+      and her face turned to the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She wes a' the wife he hed,&rdquo; said Jamie, as he rejoined the procession,
+      &ldquo;an' they luved ane anither weel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The black thread wound itself along the whiteness of the Glen, the coffin
+      first, with his lordship and Drumsheugh behind, and the others as they
+      pleased, but in closer ranks than usual, because the snow on either side
+      was deep, and because this was not as other funerals. They could see the
+      women standing at the door of every house on the hillside, and weeping,
+      for each family had some good reason in forty years to remember MacLure.
+      When Bell Baxter saw Saunders alive, and the coffin of the doctor that
+      saved him on her man's shoulder, she bowed her head on the dyke, and the
+      bairns in the village made such a wail for him they loved that the men
+      nearly disgraced themselves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A'm gled we're through that, at ony rate,&rdquo; said Hillocks; &ldquo;he wes awfu'
+      taen up wi' the bairns, conseederin' he hed nane o' his ain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was only one drift on the road between his cottage and the kirkyard,
+      and it had been cut early that morning. Before daybreak Saunders had
+      roused the lads in the bothy, and they had set to work by the light of
+      lanterns with such good will that, when Drumsheugh came down to engineer a
+      circuit for the funeral, there was a fair passage, with walls of snow
+      twelve feet high on either side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link168" id="link168"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/168.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="168.jpg (60K)" src="images/168.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Man, Saunders,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;this wes a kind thocht, and rael weel dune.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Saunders' only reply was this: &ldquo;Mony a time he's hed tae gang round;
+      he micht as weel hae an open road for his last traivel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link169" id="link169"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/169.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="169.jpg (120K)" src="images/169.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the coffin was laid down at the mouth of the grave, the only
+      blackness in the white kirkyard, Tammas Mitchell did the most beautiful
+      thing in all his life. He knelt down and carefully wiped off the snow the
+      wind had blown upon the coffin, and which had covered the name, and when
+      he had done this he disappeared behind the others, so that Drumsheugh
+      could hardly find him to take a cord. For these were the eight that buried
+      Dr. MacLure&mdash;Lord Kilspindie at the head as landlord and Drumsheugh
+      at his feet as his friend; the two ministers of the parish came first on
+      the right and left; then Burnbrae and Hillocks of the farmers, and
+      Saunders and Tammas for the plowmen. So the Glen he loved laid him to
+      rest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the bedrel had finished his work and the turf had been spread, Lord
+      Kilspindie spoke:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Friends of Drumtochty, it would not be right that we should part in
+      silence and no man say what is in every heart. We have buried the remains
+      of one that served this Glen with a devotion that has known no reserve,
+      and a kindliness that never failed, for more than forty years. I have seen
+      many brave men in my day, but no man in the trenches of Sebastopol carried
+      himself more knightly than William MacLure. You will never have heard from
+      his lips what I may tell you to-day, that my father secured for him a
+      valuable post in his younger days, and he preferred to work among his own
+      people; and I wished to do many things for him when he was old, but he
+      would have nothing for himself. He will never be forgotten while one of us
+      lives, and I pray that all doctors everywhere may share his spirit. If it
+      be your pleasure, I shall erect a cross above his grave, and shall ask my
+      old friend and companion Dr. Davidson, your minister, to choose the text
+      to be inscribed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We thank you, Lord Kilspindie,&rdquo; said the doctor, &ldquo;for your presence with
+      us in our sorrow and your tribute to the memory of William MacLure, and I
+      choose this for his text:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Greater love hath no man than this,<br /> that a man lay down his life
+      for his friends.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Milton was, at that time, held in the bonds of a very bitter theology, and
+      his indignation was stirred by this unqualified eulogium.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt Dr. MacLure hed mony natural virtues, an' he did his wark weel,
+      but it wes a peety he didna mak mair profession o' releegion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When William MacLure appears before the Judge, Milton,&rdquo; said Lachlan
+      Campbell, who that day spoke his last words in public, and they were in
+      defence of charity, &ldquo;He will not be asking him about his professions, for
+      the doctor's judgment hass been ready long ago; and it iss a good
+      judgment, and you and I will be happy men if we get the like of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is written in the Gospel, but it iss William MacLure that will not be
+      expecting it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is't Lachlan?&rdquo; asked Jamie Soutar eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man, now very feeble, stood in the middle of the road, and his
+      face, once so hard, was softened into a winsome tenderness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Come, ye blessed of My Father <br /> ... I was sick and ye visited Me.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /> <a name="link174" id="link174"></a> <br /><br /> <a
+      href="images/174.png">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="174.jpg (63K)" src="images/174.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Doctor of the Old School, Complete
+by Ian Maclaren
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+Project Gutenberg's A Doctor of the Old School, Complete, by Ian Maclaren
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Doctor of the Old School, Complete
+
+Author: Ian Maclaren
+
+Release Date: November 1, 2006 [EBook #9320]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL, ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger and PG Distributed
+Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                    A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL
+
+                        by Ian Maclaren
+
+
+
+CONTENTS:
+
+A GENERAL PRACTITIONER
+THROUGH THE FLOOD
+A FIGHT WITH DEATH
+THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY
+THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS:
+
+Dr. MacLure
+Sandy Stewart "Napped" Stones
+The Gudewife is Keepin' up a Ding-Dong
+His House--little more than a cottage
+Whirling Past in a Cloud of Dust
+Will He Never Come?
+The Verra Look o' Him wes Victory
+Weeping by Her Man's Bedside
+For Such Risks of Life, Men Get the Victoria Cross in Other Fields
+Hopps' Laddie Ate Grosarts
+There werna Mair than Four at Nicht
+A' doot Yir Gaein' tae Lose Her, Tammas
+The Bonniest, Snoddest, Kindliest Lass in the Glen
+The Winter Night was Falling Fast
+Comin' tae Meet Me in the Gloamin'
+It's oot o' the Question, Jess, sae Hurry up
+It's a Fell Chairge for a Short Day's Work
+The East had Come to Meet the West
+MacLure Explained that it would be an Eventful Journey
+They Passed through the Shallow Water without Mishap
+A Heap of Speechless Misery by the Kitchen Fire
+Ma ain Dear Man
+I'm Proud to have Met You
+Gave Way Utterly
+Fillin' His Lungs for Five and Thirty Year wi' Strong Drumtochty Air
+Bell Leant Over the Bed
+A Large Tub
+The Lighted Window in Saunder's Cottage
+A Clenched Fist Resting on the Bed
+The Doctor was Attempting the Highland
+Fling
+Sleepin' on the Top o' Her Bed
+A' Prayed Last Nicht
+I've a Cold in My Head To-night
+Jess Bolted without Delay
+Comin' in Frae Glen Urtach
+Drumsheugh was Full of Tact
+Told Drumsheugh that the Doctor was not Able to Rise
+With the Old Warm Grip
+Drumsheugh Looked Wistfully
+Wud Gie Her a Bite o' Grass
+Ma Mither's Bible
+It's a Coorse Nicht, Jess
+She's Carryin' a Licht in Her Hand
+The Tochty Ran with Black, Swollen Stream
+Toiled Across the Glen
+There was Nae Use Trying tae Dig Oot the Front Door
+Ane of Them Gied Ower the Head in a Drift, and His Neeburs hed tae
+  pu' Him oot
+Two Men in Plaids were Descending the Hill
+Jined Hands and Cam ower Fine
+Twa Horses, Ane afore the Ither
+He had Left His Overcoat, and was in Black
+Death after All was Victor
+She Began to Neigh
+They had Set to Work
+Standing at the Door
+Finis
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+It is with great good will that I write this short preface to the
+edition of "A Doctor of the Old School" (which has been illustrated by
+Mr. Gordon after an admirable and understanding fashion) because there
+are two things that I should like to say to my readers, being also my
+friends.
+
+One, is to answer a question that has been often and fairly asked. Was
+there ever any doctor so self-forgetful and so utterly Christian as
+William MacLure? To which I am proud to reply, on my conscience: Not one
+man, but many in Scotland and in the South country. I will dare prophecy
+also across the sea.
+
+It has been one man's good fortune to know four country doctors, not one
+of whom was without his faults--Weelum was not perfect--but who, each
+one, might have sat for my hero. Three are now resting from their
+labors, and the fourth, if he ever should see these lines, would never
+identify himself.
+
+Then I desire to thank my readers, and chiefly the medical profession
+for the reception given to the Doctor of Drumtochty.
+
+For many years I have desired to pay some tribute to a class whose
+service to the community was known to every countryman, but after the
+tale had gone forth my heart failed. For it might have been despised
+for the little grace of letters in the style and because of the outward
+roughness of the man. But neither his biographer nor his circumstances
+have 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 in
+commendation of Weelum MacLure, and many were from doctors who had
+received new courage. It is surely more honor than a new writer could
+ever have deserved to receive the approbation of a profession whose
+charity puts us all to shame.
+
+May I take this first opportunity to declare how deeply my heart has
+been 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 face
+to face.
+
+IAN MACLAREN. Liverpool, Oct. 4, 1895.
+
+
+
+
+                     A GENERAL PRACTITIONER.
+
+
+I
+
+A GENERAL PRACTITIONER
+
+Drumtochty was accustomed to break every law of health, except wholesome
+food and fresh air, and yet had reduced the Psalmist's farthest limit to
+an average life-rate. Our men made no difference in their clothes for
+summer or winter, Drumsheugh and one or two of the larger farmers
+condescending to a topcoat on Sabbath, as a penalty of their position,
+and without regard to temperature. They wore their blacks at a funeral,
+refusing to cover them with anything, out of respect to the deceased,
+and standing longest in the kirkyard when the north wind was blowing
+across a hundred miles of snow. If the rain was pouring at the Junction,
+then Drumtochty stood two minutes longer through sheer native dourness
+till each man had a cascade from the tail of his coat, and hazarded the
+suggestion, 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 in
+the shape of a "hoast" (cough), and the head of the house was then
+exhorted by his women folk to "change his feet" if he had happened to
+walk through a burn on his way home, and was pestered generally with
+sanitary precautions. It is right to add that the  gudeman treated such
+advice with contempt, regarding it as suitable for the effeminacy of
+towns, but not seriously 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 he
+spent ten years more in regretting his hastiness and criticising his
+successor. The ordinary course of life, with fine air and contented
+minds, was to do a full share of work till seventy, and then to look
+after "orra" jobs well into the eighties, and to "slip awa" within sight
+of ninety. Persons above ninety were understood to be acquitting
+themselves with credit, and assumed airs of authority, brushing aside
+the opinions of seventy as immature, and confirming their conclusions
+with illustrations drawn from the end of last century.
+
+When Hillocks' brother so far forgot himself as to "slip awa"
+at sixty, that worthy man was scandalized, and offered laboured
+explanations at the "beerial."
+
+"It's an awfu' business ony wy ye look at it, an' a sair trial tae us
+a'. A' never heard tell o' sic a thing in oor family afore, an' it's no
+easy accoontin' for't.
+
+"The gudewife was sayin' he wes never the same sin' a weet nicht he lost
+himsel on the muir and slept below a bush; but that's neither here nor
+there. A'm thinkin' he sappit his constitution thae twa years he wes
+grieve aboot England. That wes thirty years syne, but ye're never the
+same aifter thae foreign climates."
+
+Drumtochty listened patiently to Hillocks' apology, but was not
+satisfied.
+
+"It's clean havers about the muir. Losh keep's, we've a' sleepit oot and
+never 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 hed
+been nippit in the Sooth."
+
+The parish had, in fact, lost confidence in Drums after his wayward
+experiment with a potato-digging machine, which turned out a lamentable
+failure, and his premature departure confirmed our vague impression of
+his character.
+
+"He's awa noo," Drumsheugh summed up, after opinion had time to form;
+"an' there were waur fouk than Drums, but there's nae doot he was a wee
+flichty."
+
+When illness had the audacity to attack a Drumtochty man, it was
+described as a "whup," and was treated by the men with a fine
+negligence. Hillocks was sitting in the post-office one afternoon when
+I looked in for my letters, and the right side of his face was blazing
+red. His subject of discourse was the prospects of the turnip "breer,"
+but he casually explained that he was waiting for medical advice.
+
+"The gudewife is keepin' up a ding-dong frae mornin' till nicht aboot ma
+face, and a'm fair deaved (deafened), so a'm watchin' for MacLure tae
+get a bottle as he comes wast; yon's him noo."
+
+The doctor made his diagnosis from horseback on sight, and stated the
+result with that admirable clearness which endeared him to Drumtochty.
+
+"Confoond ye, Hillocks, what are ye ploiterin' aboot here for in the
+weet 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' ye
+afore a' leave the bit, and send a haflin for some medicine. Ye donnerd
+idiot, are ye ettlin tae follow Drums afore yir time?" And the medical
+attendant of Drumtochty continued his invective till Hillocks started,
+and still pursued his  retreating figure with medical directions of a
+simple 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 the
+mornin', and dinna show yir face in the fields till a' see ye. A'll gie
+ye a cry on Monday--sic an auld fule--but there's no are o' them tae
+mind anither in the hale pairish."
+
+Hillocks' wife informed the kirkyaird that the doctor "gied the gudeman
+an awfu' clear-in'," and that Hillocks "wes keepin' the hoose," which
+meant that the patient had tea breakfast, and at that time was wandering
+about the farm buildings in an easy undress with his head in a plaid.
+
+It was impossible for a doctor to earn even the most modest competence
+from a people of such scandalous health, and so MacLure had annexed
+neighbouring parishes. His house--little more than a cottage--stood on
+the roadside among the pines towards the head of our Glen, and from this
+base of operations he dominated the wild glen that broke the wall of the
+Grampians above Drumtochty--where the snow drifts were twelve feet deep
+in winter, and the only way of passage at times was the channel of the
+river--and the moorland district westwards till he came to the Dunleith
+sphere of influence, where there were four doctors and a hydropathic.
+Drumtochty in its length, which was eight miles, and its breadth, which
+was 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 way
+thereto was across the big moor with its peat holes and treacherous
+bogs. And he held the land eastwards towards Muirtown so far as Geordie,
+the Drumtochty post, travelled every day, and could carry word that the
+doctor was wanted. He did his best for the need of every man, woman and
+child in this wild, straggling district, year in, year out, in the snow
+and in the heat, in the dark and in the light, without rest, and without
+holiday for forty years.
+
+One horse could not do the work of this man, but we liked best to see
+him on his old white mare, who died the week after her master, and the
+passing of the two did our hearts good. It was not that he rode
+beautifully, for he broke every canon of art, flying with his arms,
+stooping till he seemed to be speaking into Jess's ears, and rising in
+the saddle beyond all necessity. But he could rise faster, stay longer
+in the saddle, and had a firmer grip with his knees than any one I ever
+met, and it was all for mercy's sake. When the reapers in harvest time
+saw a figure whirling past in a cloud of dust, or the family at the foot
+of Glen Urtach, gathered round the fire on a winter's night, heard the
+rattle of a horse's hoofs on the road, or the shepherds, out after the
+sheep, traced a black speck moving across the snow to the upper glen,
+they knew it was the doctor, and, without being conscious of it, wished
+him God speed.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Before and behind his saddle were strapped the instruments and medicines
+the doctor might want, for he never knew what was before him. There were
+no specialists in Drumtochty, so this man had to do everything as best
+he could, and as quickly. He was chest doctor and doctor for every other
+organ as well; he was accoucheur and surgeon; he was oculist and aurist;
+he was dentist and chloroformist, besides being chemist and druggist.
+It was often told how he was far up Glen Urtach when the feeders of the
+threshing mill caught young Burnbrae, and how he only stopped to change
+horses at his house, and galloped all the way to Burnbrae, and flung
+himself off his horse and amputated the arm, and saved the lad's life.
+
+"You wud hae thocht that every meenut was an hour," said Jamie Soutar,
+who had been at the threshing, "an' a'll never forget the puir lad lying
+as white as deith on the floor o' the loft, wi' his head on a sheaf, an'
+Burnbrae haudin' the bandage ticht an' prayin' a' the while, and the
+mither greetin' in the corner.
+
+"'Will he never come?' she cries, an' a' heard the soond o' the horse's
+feet on the road a mile awa in the frosty air.
+
+"'The Lord be praised!' said Burnbrae, and a' slippit doon the ladder
+as the doctor came skelpin' intae the close, the foam fleein' frae his
+horse's mooth.
+
+"Whar is he?' wes a' that passed his lips, an' in five meenuts he hed
+him on the feedin' board, and wes at his wark--sic wark, neeburs--but he
+did it weel. An' ae thing a' thocht rael thochtfu' o' him: he first sent
+aff the laddie's mither tae get a bed ready.
+
+"Noo that's feenished, and his constitution 'ill dae the rest," and he
+carried the lad doon the ladder in his airms like a bairn, and laid him
+in 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' hevna
+tasted meat for saxteen hoors.'
+
+"It was michty tae see him come intae the yaird that day, neeburs; the
+verra look o' him wes victory."
+
+[Illustration: "THE VERRA LOOK O' HIM WES VICTORY"]
+
+Jamie's cynicism slipped off in the enthusiasm of this reminiscence, and
+he expressed the feeling of Drumtochty. No one sent for MacLure save in
+great straits, and the sight of him put courage in sinking hearts. But
+this was not by the grace of his appearance, or the advantage of a good
+bedside manner. A tall, gaunt, loosely made man, without an ounce of
+superfluous flesh on his body, his face burned a dark brick color by
+constant exposure to the weather, red hair and beard turning grey,
+honest blue eyes that look you ever in the face, huge hands with wrist
+bones like the shank of a ham, and a voice that hurled his salutations
+across two fields, he suggested the moor rather  than the drawing-room.
+But what a clever hand it was in an operation, as delicate as a woman's,
+and what a kindly voice it was in the humble room where the shepherd's
+wife was weeping by her man's bedside. He was "ill pitten the gither" to
+begin with, but many of his physical defects were the penalties of his
+work, and endeared him to the Glen. That ugly scar that cut into his
+right eyebrow and gave him such a sinister expression, was got one night
+Jess slipped on the ice and laid him insensible eight miles from home.
+His limp marked the big snowstorm in the fifties, when his horse missed
+the road in Glen Urtach, and they rolled together in a drift. MacLure
+escaped with a broken leg and the fracture of three ribs, but he never
+walked like other men again. He could not swing himself into the saddle
+without making two attempts and holding Jess's mane. Neither can you
+"warstle" through the peat bogs and snow drifts for forty winters
+without a touch of rheumatism. But they were honorable scars, and for
+such risks of life men get the Victoria Cross in other fields.
+
+[Illustration: "FOR SUCH RISKS OF LIFE MEN GET THE VICTORIA CROSS IN
+OTHER FIELDS"]
+
+MacLure got nothing but the secret affection of the Glen, which knew
+that none had ever done one-tenth as much for it as this ungainly,
+twisted, battered figure, and I have  seen a Drumtochty face
+soften at the sight of MacLure limping to his horse.
+
+Mr. Hopps earned the ill-will of the Glen for ever by criticising
+the doctor's dress, but indeed it would have filled any townsman with
+amazement. Black he wore once a year, on Sacrament Sunday, and, if
+possible, at a funeral; topcoat or waterproof never. His jacket and
+waistcoat were rough homespun of Glen Urtach wool, which threw off the
+wet like a duck's back, and below he was clad in shepherd's tartan
+trousers, which disappeared into unpolished riding boots. His shirt was
+grey flannel, and he was uncertain about a collar, but certain as to a
+tie which he never had, his beard doing instead, and his hat was soft
+felt of four colors and seven different shapes. His point of distinction
+in dress was the trousers, and they were the subject of unending
+speculation.
+
+"Some threep that he's worn thae eedentical pair the last twenty year,
+an' a' mind masel him gettin' a tear ahint, when he was crossin' oor
+palin', and the mend's still veesible.
+
+"Ithers declare 'at he's got a wab o' claith, and hes a new pair made in
+Muirtown aince in the twa year maybe, and keeps them in the garden till
+the new look wears aff.
+
+"For ma ain pairt," Soutar used to declare, "a' canna mak up my mind,
+but there's ae thing sure, the Glen wud not like tae see him withoot
+them: it wud be a shock tae confidence. There's no muckle o' the check
+left, but ye can aye tell it, and when ye see thae breeks comin' in ye
+ken that if human pooer can save yir bairn's life it 'ill be dune."
+
+The confidence of the Glen--and tributary states--was unbounded, and
+rested partly on long experience of the doctor's resources, and partly
+on his hereditary connection.
+
+"His father was here afore him," Mrs. Macfadyen used to explain; "atween
+them they've hed the countyside for weel on tae a century; if MacLure
+disna understand oor constitution, wha dis, a' wud like tae ask?"
+
+For Drumtochty had its own constitution and a special throat disease, as
+became a parish which was quite self-contained between the woods and the
+hills, and not dependent on the lowlands either for its diseases or its
+doctors.
+
+"He's a skilly man, Doctor MacLure," 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' he
+disna tribble the Kirk often.
+
+"He aye can tell what's wrang wi' a body, an' maistly he can put ye
+richt, and there's nae new-fangled wys wi' him: a blister for the
+ootside an' Epsom salts for the inside dis his wark, an' they say
+there's no an herb on the hills he disna ken.
+
+"If we're tae dee, we're tae dee; an' if we're tae live, we're tae live,"
+concluded Elspeth, with sound Calvinistic logic; "but a'll say this
+for the doctor, that whether yir tae live or dee, he can aye keep up a
+sharp 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' misadventures
+of 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' he
+writes 'immediately' on a slip o' paper.
+
+"Weel, MacLure had been awa a' nicht wi' a shepherd's wife Dunleith wy,
+and he comes here withoot drawin' bridle, mud up tae the 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 and
+tire.
+
+"'It's nane o' us, doctor; it's Hopps' laddie; he's been eatin' ower
+mony 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, and
+I've never had one wink of sleep. You might have come a little quicker,
+that's all I've got to say.'
+
+"We've mair tae dae in Drumtochty than attend tae every bairn that hes a
+sair stomach,' and a' saw MacLure wes roosed.
+
+"'I'm astonished to hear you speak. Our doctor at home always says to
+Mrs. 'Opps "Look on me as a family friend, Mrs. 'Opps, and send for me
+though it be only a headache."'
+
+"'He'd be mair sparin' o' his offers if he hed four and twenty mile tae
+look aifter. There's naethin' wrang wi' yir laddie but greed. Gie him a
+gude dose o' castor oil and stop his meat for a day, an' he 'ill be a'
+richt the morn.'
+
+"'He 'ill not take castor oil, doctor. We have given up those barbarous
+medicines.'
+
+"'Whatna kind o' medicines hae ye noo in the Sooth?'
+
+"'Well, you see, Dr. MacLure, we're homoeopathists, and I've my little
+chest here,' and oot Hopps comes wi' his boxy.
+
+"'Let's see't,' an' MacLure sits doon and taks oot the bit bottles, and
+he reads the names wi' a lauch every time.
+
+"'Belladonna; did ye ever hear the like? Aconite; it cowes a'. Nux
+Vomica. What next? Weel, ma mannie,' he says tae Hopps, 'it's a fine
+ploy, and ye 'ill better gang on wi' the Nux till it's dune, and gie him
+ony ither o' the sweeties he fancies.
+
+"'Noo, Hillocks, a' maun be aff tae see Drumsheugh's grieve, for he's
+doon wi' the fever, and it's tae be a teuch fecht. A' hinna time tae
+wait for dinner; gie me some cheese an' cake in ma haund, and Jess 'ill
+tak a pail o' meal an' water.
+
+"'Fee; a'm no wantin' yir fees, man; wi' that boxy ye dinna need a
+doctor; na, na, gie yir siller tae some puir body, Maister Hopps,' an'
+he was doon the road as hard as he cud lick."
+
+His fees were pretty much what the folk chose to give him, and he
+collected them once a year at Kildrummie fair.
+
+"Well, doctor, what am a' awin' ye for the wife and bairn? Ye 'ill need
+three notes for that nicht ye stayed in the hoose an' a' the veesits."
+
+"Havers," MacLure would answer, "prices are low, a'm hearing; gie's
+thirty shillings."
+
+"No, a'll no, or the wife 'ill tak ma ears off," and it was settled for
+two pounds. Lord Kilspindie gave him a free house and fields, and one
+way or other, Drumsheugh told me, the doctor might get in about L150.
+a year, out of which he had to pay his old housekeeper's wages and a
+boy's, and keep two horses, besides the cost of instruments and books,
+which he bought through a friend in Edinburgh with much judgment.
+
+There was only one man who ever complained of the doctor's charges, and
+that was the new farmer of Milton, who was so good that he was above
+both churches, and held a meeting in his barn. (It was Milton the Glen
+supposed at first to be a Mormon, but I can't go into that now.) He
+offered MacLure a pound less than he asked, and two tracts, whereupon
+MacLure expressed his opinion of Milton, both from a theological and
+social standpoint, with such vigor and frankness that an attentive
+audience of Drumtochty men could hardly contain themselves. Jamie Soutar
+was selling his pig at the time, and missed the meeting, but he hastened
+to condole with Milton, who was complaining everywhere of the doctor's
+language.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Ye did richt tae resist him; it 'ill maybe roose the Glen tae mak a
+stand; he fair hands them in bondage.
+
+"Thirty shillings for twal veesits, and him no mair than seeven mile
+awa, an' a'm telt there werena mair than four at nicht.
+
+"Ye 'ill hae the sympathy o' the Glen, for a' body kens yir as free wi'
+yir siller as yir tracts.
+
+"Wes't 'Beware o' gude warks' ye offered him? Man, ye 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 warld
+or that which is tae come."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                      THROUGH THE FLOOD.
+
+
+II
+
+THROUGH THE FLOOD
+
+
+Doctor MacLure did not lead a solemn procession from the sick bed to
+the dining-room, and give his opinion from the hearthrug with an air of
+wisdom bordering on the supernatural, because neither the Drumtochty
+houses nor his manners were on that large scale. He was accustomed to
+deliver himself in the yard, and to conclude his directions with one
+foot in the stirrup; but when he left the room where the life of Annie
+Mitchell was ebbing slowly away, our doctor said not one word, and at
+the sight of his face her husband's heart was troubled.
+
+He was a dull man, Tammas, who could not read the meaning of a sign, and
+labored under a perpetual disability of speech; but love was eyes to him
+that day, and a mouth.
+
+"Is't as bad as yir lookin', doctor? tell's the truth; wull Annie no
+come through?" and Tammas looked MacLure straight in the face, who never
+flinched his duty or said smooth things.
+
+"A' wud gie onything tae say Annie hes a chance, but a' daurna; a' doot
+yir gaein' tae lose her, Tammas."
+
+MacLure was in the saddle, and as he gave his judgment, he laid his hand
+on Tammas's shoulder with one of the rare caresses that pass between
+men.
+
+[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 would
+have crushed the bones of a weakling. Drumtochty felt in such moments
+the brotherliness of this rough-looking man, and loved him.
+
+Tammas hid his face in Jess's mane, who looked round with sorrow in her
+beautiful eyes, for she had seen many tragedies, and in this silent
+sympathy the stricken man drank his cup, drop by drop.
+
+"A' wesna prepared for this, for a' aye thocht she wud live the
+langest.... She's younger than me by ten years, and never wes ill....
+We've been mairit twal year laist Martinmas, but it's juist like a year
+the day... A' wes never worthy o' her, the bonniest, snoddest (neatest),
+kindliest lass in the Glen.... A' never cud mak oot hoo she ever lookit
+at me, 'at hesna hed ae word tae say aboot her till it's ower late....
+She didna cuist up tae me that a' wesna worthy o' her, no her, but aye
+she said, 'Yir ma ain gudeman, and nane cud be kinder tae me.' ... An'
+a' wes minded tae be kind, but a' see noo mony little trokes a' micht
+hae dune for her, and noo the time is bye.... Naebody kens hoo patient
+she wes wi' me, and aye made the best o 'me, an' never pit me tae shame
+afore the fouk.... An' we never hed ae cross word, no ane in twal
+year.... We were mair nor man and wife, we were sweethearts a' the
+time.... Oh, ma bonnie lass, what 'ill the bairnies an' me dae withoot
+ye, 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 wrestled
+with his sorrow dry-eyed, for tears were denied Drumtochty men. Neither
+the doctor nor Jess moved hand or  foot, but their hearts were with
+their fellow creature, and at length the doctor made a sign to Marget
+Howe, 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 if
+Annie an' you hed never luved. Neither death nor time can pairt them
+that luve; there's naethin' in a' the warld sae strong as luve. If Annie
+gaes frae the 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 her
+nicht 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 in
+Drumtochty."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Thank ye kindly, Marget; thae are gude words and true, an' ye hev the
+richt tae say them; but a' canna dae without seem' Annie comin' tae meet
+me 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 nae
+Annie in the hoose.
+
+"Can naethin' be dune, doctor? Ye savit Flora Cammil, and young
+Burnbrae, an' yon shepherd's wife Dunleith wy, an' we were a sae prood
+o' ye, an' pleased tae think that ye hed keepit deith frae anither hame.
+Can ye no think o' somethin' tae help Annie, and gie her back tae her
+man and bairnies?" and Tammas searched the doctor's face in the cold,
+weird light.
+
+"There's nae pooer on heaven or airth like luve," Marget said to me
+afterwards; "it maks the weak strong and the dumb tae speak. Oor herts
+were as water afore Tammas's words, an' a' saw the doctor shake in his
+saddle. A' never kent till that meenut hoo he hed a share in a'body's
+grief, an' carried the heaviest wecht o' a' the Glen. A' peetied him wi'
+Tammas lookin' at him sae wistfully, as if he hed the keys o' life an'
+deith in his hands. But he wes honest, and wudna hold oot a false houp
+tae deceive a sore hert or win escape for 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 the
+warld, 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 an
+orphan, an' nae man wes better pleased when she got a gude husband, and
+a' helpit her wi' her fower bairns. A've naither wife nor bairns o' ma
+own, an' a' coont a' the fouk o' the Glen ma family. Div ye think a'
+wudna save Annie if I cud? If there wes a man in Muirtown 'at cud dae
+mair for her, a'd have him this verra nicht, but a' the doctors in
+Perthshire are helpless for this tribble.
+
+"Tammas, ma puir fallow, if it could avail, a' tell ye a' wud lay doon
+this auld worn-oot ruckle o' a body o' mine juist tae see ye baith
+sittin' at the fireside, an' the bairns roond ye, couthy an' canty
+again; but it's no tae be, Tammas, it's no tae be."
+
+"When a' lookit at the doctor's face," Marget said, "a' thocht him the
+winsomest man a' ever saw. He was transfigured that nicht, for a'm
+judging 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'm
+no ungratefu' tae you, doctor, for a' ye've dune and what ye said the
+nicht," 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 skill
+that came of long experience, and the doctor held converse with her
+according to his wont.
+
+"Eh, Jess wumman, yon wes the hardest wark a' hae tae face, and a' wud
+raither hae ta'en ma chance o' anither row in a Glen Urtach drift than
+tell Tammas Mitchell his wife wes deein'.
+
+"A' said she cudna be cured, and it wes true, for there's juist ae man
+in the land fit for't, and they micht as weel try tae get the mune oot
+o' heaven. Sae a' said naethin' tae vex Tammas's hert, for it's heavy
+eneuch withoot regrets.
+
+"But it's hard, Jess, that money wull buy life after a', an' if Annie
+wes a duchess her man wudna lose her; but bein' only a puir cottar's
+wife, she maun dee afore the week's oot.
+
+"Gin we hed him the morn there's little doot she would be saved, for he
+hesna lost mair than five per cent, o' his cases, and they 'ill be puir
+toon's craturs, no strappin women like Annie.
+
+[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 a
+heavy day. But it wud be the grandest thing that was ever dune in the
+Glen in oor time if it could be managed by hook or crook.
+
+"We 'ill gang and see Drumsheugh, Jess; he's anither man sin' Geordie
+Hoo's deith, and he wes aye kinder than fouk kent;" and the doctor
+passed at a gallop through the village, whose lights shone across the
+white frost-bound road.
+
+"Come in by, doctor; a' heard ye on the road; ye 'ill hae been at Tammas
+Mitchell's; hoo's the gudewife? a' doot she's sober."
+
+"Annie's deein', Drumsheugh, an' Tammas is like tae brak his hert."
+
+"That's no lichtsome, doctor, no lichtsome ava, for a' dinna ken ony
+man in Drumtochty sae bund up in his wife as Tammas, and there's no
+a bonnier wumman o' her age crosses our kirk door than Annie, nor a
+cleverer at her wark. Man, ye 'ill need tae pit yir brains in steep. Is
+she clean beyond ye?"
+
+"Beyond me and every ither in the land but ane, and it wud cost a
+hundred guineas tae bring him tae Drumtochty."
+
+[Illustration: ]
+
+"Certes, he's no blate; it's a fell chairge for a short day's work; but
+hundred or no hundred we'll hae him, an' no let Annie gang, and her no
+half her years."
+
+"Are ye meanin' it, Drumsheugh?" and MacLure turned white below the tan.
+"William MacLure," said Drumsheugh, in one of the few confidences that
+ever broke the Drumtochty reserve, "a'm a lonely man, wi' naebody o' ma
+ain blude tae care for me livin', or tae lift me intae ma coffin when
+a'm deid.
+
+"A' fecht awa at Muirtown market for an extra pound on a beast, or a
+shillin' on the quarter o' barley, an' what's the gude o't? Burnbrae
+gaes aff tae get a goon for his wife or a buke for his college laddie,
+an' Lachlan Campbell 'ill no leave the place noo without a ribbon for
+Flora.
+
+"Ilka man in the Klldrummie train has some bit fairin' his pooch for the
+fouk at hame that he's bocht wi' the siller he won.
+
+"But there's naebody tae be lookin' oot for me, an' comin' doon the road
+tae meet me, and daffin' (joking) wi' me about their fairing, or feeling
+ma pockets. Ou ay, a've seen it a' at ither hooses, though they tried
+tae hide it frae me for fear a' wud lauch at them. Me lauch, wi' ma
+cauld, empty hame!
+
+"Yir the only man kens, Weelum, that I aince luved the noblest wumman in
+the glen or onywhere, an' a' luve her still, but wi' anither luve noo.
+
+"She had given her heart tae anither, or a've thocht a' micht hae
+won her, though nae man be worthy o' sic a gift. Ma hert turned tae
+bitterness, but that passed awa beside the brier bush whar George Hoo
+lay yon sad simmer time. Some day a'll tell ye ma story, Weelum, for you
+an' me are auld freends, and will be till we dee."
+
+MacLure felt beneath the table for Drumsheugh's hand, but neither man
+looked at the other.
+
+"Weel, a' we can dae noo, Weelum, gin we haena mickle brichtness in oor
+ain names, is tae keep the licht frae gaein' oot in anither hoose. Write
+the telegram, man, and Sandy  'ill send it aff frae Kildrummie this
+verra 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't
+a'--but a' haena mony pleasures, an' a' wud like tae hae ma ain share in
+savin' Annie's life."
+
+Next morning a figure received Sir George on the Kildrummie platform,
+whom that famous surgeon took for a gillie, but who introduced himself
+as "MacLure of Drumtochty." It seemed as if the East had come to meet
+the West when these two stood together, the one in travelling furs,
+handsome and distinguished, with his strong, cultured face and carriage
+of authority, a characteristic type of his profession; and the other
+more marvellously dressed than ever, for Drumsheugh's topcoat had been
+forced upon him for the occasion, his face and neck one redness with the
+bitter cold; rough and ungainly, yet not without some signs of power in
+his eye and voice, the most heroic type of his noble profession. MacLure
+compassed the precious arrival with observances till he was securely
+seated in Drumsheugh's dog cart--a vehicle that lent itself to
+history--with two full-sized plaids added to his equipment--Drumsheugh
+and Hillocks had both been requisitioned--and MacLure wrapped another
+plaid round a leather case, which was placed below the seat with such
+reverence as might be given to the Queen's regalia. Peter attended their
+departure full of interest, and as soon as they were in the fir woods
+MacLure explained that it would be an eventful journey.
+
+"It's a richt in here, for the wind disna get at the snaw, but the
+drifts are deep in the Glen, and th'ill be some engineerin' afore we get
+tae oor destination."
+
+Four times they left the road and took their way over fields, twice they
+forced a passage through a slap in a dyke, thrice they used gaps in the
+paling which MacLure had made on his downward journey.
+
+[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 we
+daurna venture on it, sae we hev tae ford, and the snaw's been
+melting up Urtach way. There's nae doot the water's gey big, and it's
+threatenin' tae rise, but we 'ill win through wi' a warstle.
+
+"It micht be safer tae lift the instruments oot o' reach o' the water;
+wud ye mind haddin' them on yir knee till we're ower, an' keep firm in
+yir seat in case we come on a stane in the bed o' the river."
+
+By this time they had come to the edge, and it was not a cheering sight.
+The Tochty had spread out over the meadows, and while they waited they
+could see it cover another two inches on the trunk of a tree. There are
+summer floods, when the water is brown and flecked with foam, but this
+was a winter flood, which is black and sullen, and runs in the centre
+with a strong, fierce, silent current. Upon the opposite side
+Hillocks stood to give directions by word and hand, as the ford was
+on his land, and none knew the Tochty better in all its ways.
+
+[Illustration: "THEY PASSED THROUGH THE SHALLOW WATER WITHOUT MISHAP"]
+
+They passed through the shallow water without mishap, save when the
+wheel struck a hidden stone or fell suddenly into a rut; but when they
+neared the body of the river MacLure halted, to give Jess a minute's
+breathing.
+
+"It 'ill tak ye a' yir time, lass, an' a' wud raither be on yir back;
+but ye never failed me yet, and a wumman's life is hangin' on the
+crossin'."
+
+With the first plunge into the bed of the stream the water rose to the
+axles, and then it crept up to the shafts, so that the surgeon could
+feel it lapping in about his feet, while the dogcart began to quiver,
+and it seemed as if it were to be carried away. Sir George was as brave
+as most men, but he had never forded a Highland river in flood, and the
+mass of black water racing past beneath, before, behind him, affected
+his imagination and shook his nerves. He rose from his seat and ordered
+MacLure to turn back, declaring that he would be condemned utterly and
+eternally if he allowed himself to be drowned for any person.
+
+"Sit doon," thundered MacLure; "condemned ye will be suner or later gin
+ye shirk yir duty, but through the water ye gang the day."
+
+Both men spoke much more strongly and shortly, but this is what they
+intended to say, and it was MacLure that prevailed.
+
+Jess trailed her feet along the ground with cunning art, and held her
+shoulder against the stream; MacLure leant forward in his seat, a rein
+in each hand, and his eyes fixed on Hillocks, who was now standing up to
+the waist in the water, shouting directions and cheering on horse and
+driver.
+
+"Haud tae the richt, doctor; there's a hole yonder. Keep oot o't for ony
+sake."
+
+[Illustration: "A HEAP OF SPEECHLESS MISERY BY THE KITCHEN FIRE."]
+
+That's  heap of speechless misery by the kitchen fire, and carried
+him off to the barn, and spread some corn on the threshing floor and
+thrust a flail into his hands.
+
+"Noo we've tae begin, an' we 'ill no be dune for an' oor, and ye've tae
+lay on withoot stoppin' till a' come for ye, an' a'll shut the door tae
+haud in the noise, an' keep yir dog beside ye, for there maunna be a
+cheep aboot the hoose for Annie's sake."
+
+"A'll dae onything ye want me, but if--if--"
+
+"A'll come for ye, Tammas, gin there be danger; but what are ye feared
+for wi' the Queen's ain surgeon here?"
+
+Fifty minutes did the flail rise and fall, save twice, when Tammas crept
+to the door and listened, the dog lifting his head and whining.
+
+It seemed twelve hours instead of one when the door swung back, and
+MacLure filled the  doorway, preceded by a great burst of light, for the
+sun had arisen on the snow.
+
+[Illustration: "MA AIN DEAR MAN"]
+
+His face was as tidings of great joy, and Elspeth told me that there was
+nothing like it to be seen that afternoon for glory, save the sun itself
+in the heavens.
+
+"A' never saw the marrow o't, Tammas, an' a'll never see the like again;
+it's a' ower, man, withoot a hitch frae beginnin' tae end, and she's
+fa'in' asleep as fine as ye like."
+
+"Dis he think Annie ... 'ill live?"
+
+"Of coorse he dis, and be aboot the hoose inside a month; that's the gud
+o' bein' a clean-bluided, weel-livin'----"
+
+"Preserve ye, man, what's wrang wi' ye? it's a mercy a' keppit ye, or we
+wud hev hed anither job for Sir George.
+
+"Ye're a richt noo; sit doon on the strae. A'll come back in a whilie,
+an' ye 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 his
+lifetime to Tammas, but Annie whispered, "Ma ain dear man."
+
+When the doctor placed the precious bag beside Sir George in our
+solitary first next morning, he laid a cheque beside it and was about to
+leave.
+
+"No, no," said the great man. "Mrs. Macfayden and I were on the gossip
+last night, and I know the whole story about you and your friend.
+
+"You have some right to call me a coward, but I'll never let you count
+me a mean, miserly rascal," and the cheque with Drumsheugh's painful
+writing 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 all
+the station heard.  "Give's another shake of your hand, MacLure; I'm
+proud to have met you; you are an honor to our profession. Mind the
+antiseptic dressings."
+
+It was market day, but only Jamie Soutar and Hillocks had ventured down.
+
+"Did ye hear yon, Hillocks? hoo dae ye feel? A'll no deny a'm lifted."
+
+Halfway to the Junction Hillocks had recovered, and began to grasp the
+situation.
+
+"Tell's what he said. A' wud like to hae it exact for Drumsheugh."
+
+"Thae's the eedentical words, an' they're true; there's no a man in
+Drumtochty disna ken that, except ane."
+
+"An' wha's thar, Jamie?"
+
+"It's Weelum MacLure himsel. Man, a've often girned that he sud fecht
+awa for us a', and maybe dee before he kent that he hed githered mair
+luve than ony man in the Glen.
+
+"'A'm prood tae hae met ye', says Sir George, an' him the greatest
+doctor in the land. 'Yir an 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 London
+doctor at Lord Kilspindie's shooting lodge looked in on his way from the
+moor, and declared it impossible for Saunders to live through the night.
+
+"I give him six hours, more or less; it is only a question of time,"
+said the oracle, 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 to
+consolation.
+
+"Dinna greet like that, Bell wumman, sae lang as Saunders is still
+living'; a'll never give up houp, for ma pairt, till oor ain man says
+the word.
+
+"A' the doctors in the land dinna ken as muckle aboot us as Weelum
+MacLure, an' he's ill tae beat when he's trying tae save a man's life."
+
+MacLure, on his coming, would say nothing, either weal or woe, till he
+had examined Saunders. Suddenly his face turned into iron before their
+eyes, and he looked like one encountering a merciless foe. For there was
+a feud between MacLure and a certain mighty power which had lasted for
+forty years in Drumtochty.
+
+[Illustration: "GAVE WAY UTTERLY"]
+
+"The London doctor said that Saunders wud sough awa afore mornin', did
+he? Weel, he's an authority on fevers an' sic like diseases, an' ought
+tae ken.
+
+"It's may be presumptous o' me tae differ frae him, and it wudna be
+verra respectfu' o' Saunders tae live aifter this opeenion. But Saunders
+wes awe thraun an' ill tae drive, an' he's as like as no tae gang his
+own gait.
+
+"A'm no meanin' tae reflect on sae clever a man, but he didna ken the
+seetuation. He can read fevers like a buik, but he never cam across sic
+a thing as the Drumtochty constitution a' his days.
+
+"Ye see, when onybody gets as low as puir Saunders here, it's juist
+a hand to hand wrastle atween the fever and his constitution, an' of
+coorse, if he had been a shilpit, stuntit, feckless effeegy o' a cratur,
+fed on tea an' made dishes and pushioned wi' bad air, Saunders wud hae
+nae chance; he wes boond tae gae oot like the snuff o' a candle.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"But Saunders hes been fillin' his lungs for five and thirty year wi'
+strong Drumtochty air, an' eatin' naethin' but kirny aitmeal, and
+drinkin' naethin' but fresh milk frae the coo, an' followin' the ploo
+through the new-turned sweet-smellin' earth, an' swingin' the scythe in
+haytime and harvest, till the legs an' airms o' him were iron, an' his
+chest wes like the cuttin' o' an oak tree.
+
+"He's a waesome sicht the nicht, but Saunders wes a buirdly man aince,
+and wull never lat his life be taken lichtly frae him. Na, na, he hesna
+sinned against Nature, and Nature 'ill stand by him noo in his oor o'
+distress.
+
+"A' daurna say yea, Bell, muckle as a' wud like, for this is an evil
+disease, cunnin, an' treacherous as the deevil himsel', but a' winna say
+nay, sae keep yir hert frae despair.
+
+"It wull be a sair fecht, but it 'ill be settled one wy or anither by
+sax o'clock the morn's morn. Nae man can prophecee hoo it 'ill end, but
+ae thing is certain, a'll no see deith tak a Drumtochty man afore his
+time if a' can help it.
+
+"Noo, Bell ma wumman, yir near deid wi' tire, an' nae wonder. Ye've dune
+a' ye cud for yir man, an' ye'll lippen (trust) him the nicht tae
+Drumsheugh an' me; we 'ill no fail him or you.
+
+"Lie doon an' rest, an' if it be the wull o' the Almichty a'll wauken ye
+in the mornin' tae see a livin' conscious man, an' if it be ither-wise
+a'll come for ye the suner, Bell," and the big red hand went out to the
+anxious wife. "A' gie ye ma word."
+
+Bell leant over the bed, and at the sight of Saunders' face a
+superstitious dread seized her.
+
+"See, doctor, the shadow of deith is on him that never lifts. A've seen
+it afore, on ma father an' mither. A' canna leave him, a' canna leave
+him."
+
+[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 need
+tae be nurse the nicht, an' use sic things as we hev.
+
+"It 'ill be a lang nicht and anxious wark, but a' wud raither hae ye,
+auld freend, wi' me than ony man in the Glen. Ye're no feared tae gie a
+hand?"
+
+"Me feared? No, likely. Man, Saunders cam tae me a haflin, and hes been
+on Drumsheugh for twenty years, an' though he be a dour chiel, he's a
+faithfu' servant as ever lived. It's waesome tae see him lyin' there
+moanin' like some dumb animal frae mornin' tae nicht, an' no able tae
+answer his ain wife when she speaks.
+
+"Div ye think, Weelum, he hes a chance?"
+
+"That he hes, at ony rate, and it 'ill no be your blame or mine if he
+hesna mair."
+
+While he was speaking, MacLure took off his coat and waistcoat and hung
+them on the back of the door. Then he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt
+and laid bare two arms that were nothing but bone and muscle.
+
+"It gar'd ma very blood rin faster tae the end of ma fingers juist tae
+look at him," Drumsheugh expatiated afterwards to Hillocks, "for a' saw
+noo that there was tae be a stand-up fecht atween him an' deith for
+Saunders, and when a' thocht o' Bell an' her bairns, a' kent wha wud
+win.
+
+"'Aff wi' yir coat, Drumsheugh,' said MacLure; 'ye 'ill need tae bend
+yir back the nicht; gither a' the pails in the hoose and fill them at
+the spring, an' a'll come doon tae help ye wi' the carryin'.'"
+
+It was a wonderful ascent up the steep pathway from the spring to the
+cottage on its little knoll, the two men in single file, bareheaded,
+silent, solemn, each with a pail of water in either hand, MacLure
+limping painfully in front, Drumsheugh blowing behind; and when they
+laid down their burden in the sick room, where the bits of furniture had
+been put to a side and a large tub held the centre, Drumsheugh looked
+curiously at the doctor.
+
+[Illustration.]
+
+"No, a'm no daft; ye needna be feared; but yir tae get yir first lesson
+in medicine the nicht, an' if we win the battle ye can set up for yersel
+in the Glen.
+
+"There's twa dangers--that Saunders' strength fails, an' that the force
+o' the fever grows; and we have juist twa weapons.
+
+"Yon milk on the drawers' head an' the bottle of whisky is tae keep up
+the strength, and this cool caller water is tae keep doon the fever.
+
+"We 'ill cast oot the fever by the virtue o' the earth an' the water."
+
+"Div ye mean tae pit Saunders in the tub?"
+
+"Ye hiv it noo, Drumsheugh, and that's hoo a' need yir help."
+
+"Man, Hillocks," Drumsheugh used to moralize, as often as he remembered
+that critical night, "it wes humblin' tae see hoo low sickness can bring
+a pooerfu' man, an' ocht tae keep us frae pride."
+
+"A month syne there wesna a stronger man in the Glen than Saunders, an'
+noo he wes juist a bundle o' skin and bone, that naither saw nor heard,
+nor moved nor felt, that kent naethin' that was dune tae him.
+
+"Hillocks, a' wudna hae wished ony man tae hev seen Saunders--for it
+wull never pass frae before ma een as long as a' live--but a' wish a'
+the Glen hed stude by MacLure kneelin' on the floor wi' his sleeves up
+tae his oxters and waitin' on Saunders.
+
+"Yon big man wes as pitifu' an' gentle as a wumman, and when he laid the
+puir fallow in his bed again, he happit him ower as a mither dis her
+bairn."
+
+Thrice it was done, Drumsheugh ever bringing up colder water from the
+spring, and twice MacLure was silent; but after the third time there was
+a gleam in his eye.
+
+"We're haudin' oor ain; we're no bein' maistered, at ony rate; mair a'
+canna say for three oors.
+
+"We 'ill no need the water again, Drumsheugh; gae oot and tak a breath
+o' air; a'm on gaird masel."
+
+It was the hour before daybreak, and Drumsheugh wandered through fields
+he had trodden since childhood. The cattle lay sleeping in the pastures;
+their shadowy forms, with a patch of whiteness here and there, having a
+weird suggestion of death. He heard the burn running over the stones;
+fifty years ago he had made a dam that lasted till winter. The hooting
+of an owl made him start; one had frightened him as a boy so that he ran
+home to his mother--she died thirty years ago. The smell of ripe corn
+filled the air; it would soon be cut and garnered. He could see the dim
+outlines of his house, all dark and cold; no one he loved was beneath
+the roof. The lighted window in Saunders' cottage told where a man hung
+between life and death, but love was in that home. The futility of life
+arose before this lonely man, and overcame his heart with an
+indescribable sadness. What a vanity was all human labour, what a
+mystery all human life.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+But while he stood, subtle change came over the night, and the air
+trembled round him as if one had whispered. Drumsheugh lifted his head
+and looked eastwards. A faint grey stole over the distant horizon, and
+suddenly a cloud reddened before his eyes. The sun was not in sight, but
+was rising, and sending forerunners before his face. The cattle began
+to stir, a blackbird burst into song, and before Drumsheugh crossed the
+threshold of Saunders' house, the first ray of the sun had broken on a
+peak of the Grampians.
+
+MacLure left the bedside, and as the light of the candle fell on
+the doctor's face, Drumsheugh could see that it was going well with
+Saunders.
+
+"He's nae waur; an' it's half six noo; it's ower sune tae say mair, but
+a'm houpin' for the best. Sit doon and take a sleep, for ye're needin'
+'t, Drumsheugh, an', man, ye hae worked for it."
+
+As he dozed off, the last thing Drumsheugh saw was the doctor sitting
+erect in his chair, a clenched fist resting on the bed, and his eyes
+already bright with the vision of victory.
+
+He awoke with a start to find the room flooded with the morning
+sunshine, and every trace of last night's work removed.
+
+The doctor was bending over the bed, and speaking to Saunders.
+
+"It's me, Saunders, Doctor MacLure, ye ken; dinna try tae speak or move;
+juist let this drap milk slip ower--ye 'ill be needin' yir breakfast,
+lad--and gang tae sleep again."
+
+[Illustration: "A CLENCHED FIST RESTING ON THE BED"]
+
+Five minutes, and Saunders had fallen into a deep, healthy sleep, all
+tossing and moaning come to an end. Then MacLure stepped softly across
+the floor, picked up his coat and waistcoat, and went out at the door.
+Drumsheugh arose and followed him without a word. They passed through
+the little garden, sparkling with dew, and beside the byre, where Hawkie
+rattled her chain, impatient for Bell's coming, and by Saunders' little
+strip of corn ready for the scythe, till they reached an open field.
+There they came to a halt, and Doctor MacLure for once allowed himself
+to go.
+
+His coat he flung east and his waistcoat west, as far as he could hurl
+them, and it was plain he would have shouted had he been a complete mile
+from Saunders' room. Any less distance was useless for the adequate
+expression. He struck Drumsheugh a mighty blow that well-nigh levelled
+that substantial man in the dust and then the doctor of Drumtochty
+issued his bulletin.
+
+"Saunders wesna tae live through the nicht, but he's livin' this meenut,
+an' like to live.
+
+"He's got by the warst clean and fair, and wi' him that's as good as
+cure.
+
+"It' ill be a graund waukenin' for Bell; she 'ill no be a weedow yet,
+nor the bairnies fatherless.
+
+"There's nae use glowerin' at me, Drumsheugh, for a body's daft at a
+time, an' a' canna contain masel' and a'm no gaein' tae try."
+
+Then it dawned on Drumsheugh that the doctor was attempting the Highland
+fling.
+
+"He's 'ill made tae begin wi'," Drumsheugh explained in the kirkyard
+next Sabbath, "and ye ken he's been terrible mishannelled by accidents,
+sae ye may think what like it wes, but, as sure as deith, o' a' the
+Hielan flings a' ever saw yon wes the bonniest.
+
+"A' hevna shaken ma ain legs for thirty years, but a' confess tae a turn
+masel. Ye may lauch an' ye like, neeburs, but the thocht o' Bell an'
+the news that wes waitin' her got the better o' me."
+
+"THE DOCTOR WAS ATTEMPTING THE HIGHLAND FLING"
+
+Drumtochty did not laugh. Drumtochty looked as if it could have done
+quite 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 a
+michty mornin'."
+
+"'We're twa auld fules,' says MacLure tae me, and he gaithers up his
+claithes. 'It wud set us better tae be tellin' Bell.'
+
+"She wes sleepin' on the top o' her bed wrapped in a plaid, fair worn
+oot wi' three weeks' nursin' o' Saunders, but at the first touch she was
+oot upon the floor.
+
+"'Is Saunders deein', doctor?' she cries. 'Ye promised tae wauken me;
+dinna tell me it's a' ower.'
+
+"'There's nae deein' aboot him, Bell; ye're no tae lose yir man this
+time, sae far as a' can see. Come ben an' jidge for yersel'.'
+
+"Bell lookit at Saunders, and the tears of joy fell on the bed like
+rain.
+
+"'The shadow's lifted,' she said; 'he's come back frae the mooth o' the
+tomb.
+
+"'A' prayed last nicht that the Lord wud leave Saunders till the laddies
+cud dae for themselves, an' thae words came intae ma mind, 'Weepin' may
+endure for a nicht, but joy cometh in the mornin'."
+
+"'The Lord heard ma prayer, and joy hes come in the mornin',' an' she
+gripped the doctor's hand.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"'Ye've been the instrument, Doctor MacLure. Ye wudna gie him up, and ye
+did what nae ither cud for him, an' a've ma man the day, and the bairns
+hae their father.'
+
+"An' afore MacLure kent what she was daein', Bell lifted his hand to her
+lips an' kissed it."
+
+"Did she, though?" cried Jamie. "Wha wud hae thocht there wes as muckle
+spunk in Bell?"
+
+"MacLure, of coorse, was clean 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' sic
+a thing in the parish, but we maun excuse Bell, neeburs; it wes an
+occasion by ordinar," and Drumsheugh made Bell's apology to Drumtochty
+for such an excess of feeling.
+
+"A' see naethin' tae excuse," insisted Jamie, who was in great fettle
+that Sabbath; "the doctor hes never been burdened wi' fees, and a'm
+judgin' he coonted a wumman's gratitude that he saved frae weedowhood
+the 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 telt
+the minister hoo the doctor focht aucht oors for Saunders' life, an'
+won, and ye never saw a man sae carried. He walkit up and doon the room
+a' the time, and every other meenut he blew his nose like a trumpet.
+
+"'I've a cold in my head to-night, Drumsheugh,' says he; 'never mind
+me.'"
+
+"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 for
+good, and that Thou wouldst restore them again to health and strength,"
+was the familiar petition of every Sabbath.
+
+The congregation waited in a silence that might be heard, and were not
+disappointed that morning, for the minister continued:
+
+"Especially we tender Thee hearty thanks that Thou didst spare Thy
+servant who was brought down into the dust of death, and hast given him
+back to his wife and children, and unto that end didst wonderfully bless
+the skill of him who goes out and in amongst us, the beloved physician
+of this parish and adjacent districts."
+
+"Didna a' tell ye, neeburs?" said Jamie, as they stood at the kirkyard
+gate before dispersing; "there's no a man in the coonty cud hae dune
+it better. 'Beloved physician,' an' his 'skill,' tae, an' bringing in
+'adjacent districts'; that's Glen Urtach; it wes handsome, and the
+doctor earned it, ay, every word.
+
+"It's an awfu' peety he didna hear you; but dear knows whar he is the
+day, maist likely up--"
+
+Jamie stopped suddenly at the sound of a horse's feet, and there, coming
+down the avenue of beech trees that made a long vista from the kirk
+gate, they saw the doctor and Jess.
+
+One thought flashed through the minds of the fathers of the
+commonwealth.
+
+It ought to be done as he passed, and it would be done if it were not
+Sabbath. Of course it was out of the question on Sabbath.
+
+The doctor is now distinctly visible, riding after his fashion.
+
+There was never such a chance, if it were only Saturday; and each man
+reads his own regret in his neighbor's face.
+
+The doctor is nearing them rapidly; they can imagine the shepherd's
+tartan.
+
+Sabbath or no Sabbath, the Glen cannot let him pass without some tribute
+of their pride.
+
+Jess 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, but
+Tammas Mitchell carrying all before him, for he had found at last an
+expression for his feelings that rendered speech unnecessary.
+
+It was a solitary experience for horse and rider, and Jess bolted
+without delay. But the sound followed and surrounded them, and as they
+passed the corner of the kirkyard, a figure waved his college cap over
+the wall and gave a cheer on his own account.
+
+"God bless you, doctor, and well done."
+
+"If it isna the minister," cried Drumsheugh, "in his goon an' bans, tae
+think o' that; but a' respeck him for it."
+
+Then Drumtochty became self-conscious, and went home in confusion of
+face and unbroken silence, except Jamie Soutar, who faced his neighbors
+at the parting of the ways without shame.
+
+"A' wud dae it a' ower again if a' hed the chance; he got naethin' but
+his due." It was two miles before Jess composed her mind, and the doctor
+and she could discuss it quietly together.
+
+"A' can hardly believe ma ears, Jess, an' the Sabbath tae; their verra
+jidgment hes gane frae the fouk o' Drumtochty.
+
+"They've heard about Saunders, a'm thinkin', wumman, and they're pleased
+we brocht him roond; he's fairly on the mend, ye ken, noo.
+
+"A' never expeckit the like o' this, though, and it wes juist a wee
+thingie mair than a' cud hae stude.
+
+"Ye hev yir share in't tae, lass; we've hed mony a hard nicht and day
+thegither, an' yon wes oor reward. No mony men in this warld 'ill ever
+get a better, for it cam frae the hert o' honest fouk."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                    THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY.
+
+
+IV
+
+THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY
+
+Drumtochty had a vivid recollection of the winter when Dr. MacLure was
+laid up for two months with a broken leg, and the Glen was dependent on
+the dubious ministrations of the Kildrummie doctor. Mrs. Macfayden
+also pretended to recall a "whup" of some kind or other he had in the
+fifties, but this was considered to be rather a pyrotechnic display of
+Elspeth's superior memory than a serious statement of fact. MacLure
+could not have ridden through the snow of forty winters without
+suffering, yet no one ever heard him complain, and he never pled
+illness to any messenger by night or day.
+
+"It took me," said Jamie Soutar to Milton afterwards, "the feck o' ten
+meenuts tae howk him 'an' Jess oot ae snawy nicht when Drums turned bad
+sudden, and if he didna try to excuse himself for no hearing me at aince
+wi' some story aboot juist comin' in frae Glen Urtach, and no bein' in
+his bed for the laist twa nichts.
+
+"He wes that carefu' o' himsel an' lazy that if it hedna been for the
+siller, a've often thocht, Milton, he wud never hae dune a handstroke o'
+wark in the Glen.
+
+"What scunnered me wes the wy the bairns were ta'en in wi' him. Man,
+a've seen him tak a wee laddie on his knee that his ain mither cudna
+quiet, an' lilt 'Sing a song o' saxpence' till the bit mannie would be
+lauchin' 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' hoo
+he aye hed a couthy word for sick fouk. Weemen hae nae discernment,
+Milton; tae hear them speak ye wud think MacLure hed been a releegious
+man like yersel, although, as ye said, he wes little mair than a Gallio.
+
+"Bell Baxter was haverin' awa in the shop tae sic an extent aboot the wy
+MacLure brocht roond Saunders when he hed the fever that a' gied oot at
+the door, a' wes that disgusted, an' a'm telt when Tammas Mitchell heard
+the news in the smiddy he wes juist on the greeting.
+
+"The smith said that he wes thinkin' o' Annie's tribble, but ony wy a'
+ca' it rael bairnly. It's no like Drumtochty; ye're setting an example,
+Milton, wi' yir composure. But a' mind ye took the doctor's meesure as
+sune as ye cam intae the pairish."
+
+It is the penalty of a cynic that he must have some relief for his
+secret grief, and Milton began to weary of life in Jamie's hands
+during those days.
+
+Drumtochty was not observant in the matter of health, but they had grown
+sensitive about Dr. MacLure, and remarked in the kirkyard all summer
+that he was failing.
+
+"He wes aye spare," said Hillocks, "an' he's been sair twisted for the
+laist twenty year, but a' never mind him booed till the year. An' he's
+gaein' intae sma' buke (bulk), an' a' dinna like that, neeburs.
+
+"The Glen wudna dae weel withoot Weelum MacLure, an' he's no as young as
+he wes. Man, Drumsheugh, ye micht wile him aff tae the saut water atween
+the neeps and the hairst. He's been workin' forty year for a holiday,
+an' it's aboot due."
+
+Drumsheugh was full of tact, and met MacLure quite by accident on the
+road.
+
+"Saunders'll no need me till the shearing begins," he explained to the
+doctor, "an' a'm gaein' tae Brochty for a turn o' the hot baths; they're
+fine for the rheumatics.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Wull ye no come wi' me for auld lang syne? it's lonesome for a solitary
+man, an' it wud dae ye gude."
+
+"Na, na, Drumsheugh," said MacLure, who understood perfectly, "a've dune
+a' thae years withoot a break, an' a'm laith (unwilling) tae be takin'
+holidays at the tail end.
+
+"A'll no be mony months wi' ye a' thegither noo, an' a'm wanting tae
+spend a' the time a' hev in the Glen. Ye see yersel that a'll sune be
+getting ma lang rest, an' a'll no deny that a'm wearyin' for it."
+
+As autumn passed into winter, the Glen noticed that the doctor's hair
+had turned grey, and that his manner had lost all its roughness. A
+feeling of secret gratitude filled their hearts, and they united in a
+conspiracy of attention. Annie Mitchell knitted a huge comforter in red
+and white, which the doctor wore in misery for one whole day, out of
+respect for Annie, and then hung it in his sitting-room as a wall
+ornament. Hillocks used to intercept him with hot drinks, and one
+drifting day compelled him to shelter till the storm abated. Flora
+Campbell brought a wonderful compound of honey and whiskey, much tasted
+in Auchindarroch, for his cough, and the mother of young Burnbrae filled
+his cupboard with black jam, as a healing measure. Jamie Soutar seemed
+to have an endless series of jobs in the doctor's direction, and looked
+in "juist tae rest himsel" in the kitchen.
+
+MacLure had been slowly taking in the situation, and at last he
+unburdened himself one night to Jamie.
+
+"What ails the fouk, think ye? for they're aye lecturin' me noo tae
+tak care o' the weet and tae wrap masel up, an' there's no a week but
+they're sendin' bit presents tae the house, till a'm fair ashamed."
+
+"Oo, a'll explain that in a meenut," answered Jamie, "for a' ken the
+Glen 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 dee
+afore their  freends' eyes withoot a fecht, an' refusin' tae gang tae a
+puir wumman in her tribble, an' frichtenin' the bairns--no, a'm no
+dune--and scourgin' us wi' fees, and livin' yersel' on the fat o' the
+land.
+
+"Ye've been carryin' on this trade ever sin yir father dee'd, and the
+Glen didna notis. But ma word, they've fund ye oot at laist, an' they're
+gaein' tae mak ye suffer for a' yir ill usage. Div ye understand noo?"
+said Jamie, savagely.
+
+For a while MacLure was silent, and then he only said:
+
+"It's little a' did for the puir bodies; but ye hev a gude hert, Jamie,
+a rael good hert."
+
+It was a bitter December Sabbath, and the fathers were settling the
+affairs of the parish ankle deep in snow, when MacLure's old housekeeper
+told Drumsheugh that the doctor was not able to rise, and wished to see
+him in the afternoon. "Ay, ay," said Hillocks, shaking his head, and
+that day Drumsheugh omitted four pews with the ladle, while Jamie was so
+vicious on the way home that none could endure him.
+
+Janet had lit a fire in the unused grate, and hung a plaid by the window
+to break the power of the cruel north wind, but the bare room with its
+half-a-dozen bits of furniture and a worn strip of carpet, and the
+outlook upon the snow drifted up to the second pane of the window and
+the black firs laden with their icy burden, sent a chill to Drumsheugh's
+heart.
+
+The doctor had weakened sadly, and could hardly lift his head, but his
+face lit up at the sight of his visitor, and the big hand, which was now
+quite refined in its whiteness, came out from the bed-clothes with the
+old warm grip.
+
+[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, which
+he had not heard since his mother's death, gave him a "grue" (shiver),
+as if one had spoken from the other world.
+
+"It's maist awfu' tae hear ye speakin' aboot deein', Weelum; a' canna
+bear it. We 'ill hae the Muirtown doctor up, an' ye 'ill be aboot again
+in nae time.
+
+"Ye hevna ony sair tribble; ye're juist trachled wi' hard wark an'
+needin' a rest. Dinna say ye're gaein' tae leave us, Weelum; we canna
+dae withoot ye in Drumtochty;" and Drumsheugh looked wistfully for some
+word of hope.
+
+"Na, na, Paitrick, naethin' can be dune, an' it's ower late tae send for
+ony doctor. There's a knock that canna be mista'en, an' a' heard it last
+night. A've focht deith for ither fouk mair than forty year, but ma ain
+time hes come at laist.
+
+"A've nae tribble worth mentionin'--a bit titch o' bronchitis--an' a've
+hed a graund constitution; but a'm fair worn oot, Paitrick; that's ma
+complaint, an' its past curin'."
+
+Drumsheugh went over to the fireplace, and for a while did nothing but
+break up the smouldering peats, whose smoke powerfully affected his nose
+and eyes.
+
+[Illustration: "DRUMSHEUGH LOOKED WISTFULLY"]
+
+"When ye're ready, Paitrick, there's twa or three little trokes a' wud
+like ye tae look aifter, an' a'll tell ye aboot them as lang's ma head's
+clear.
+
+"A' didna keep buiks, as ye ken, for a' aye hed a guid memory, so
+naebody 'ill be harried for money aifter ma deith, and ye 'ill hae nae
+accoonts tae collect.
+
+"But the fouk are honest in Drumtochty, and they 'ill be offerin' ye
+siller, an' a'll gie ye ma mind aboot it. Gin it be a puir body, tell
+her tae keep it and get a bit plaidie wi' the money, and she 'ill maybe
+think o' her auld doctor at a time. Gin it be a bien (well-to-do) man,
+tak half of what he offers, for a Drumtochty man wud scorn to be mean in
+sic circumstances; and if onybody needs a doctor 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 still
+tae 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's
+eyes--"tae say neathin' o' the Highlan' fling."
+
+The remembrance of that great victory came upon Drumsheugh, and tried
+his fortitude.
+
+"What 'ill become o's when ye're no here tae gie a hand in time o' need?
+we 'ill tak ill wi' a stranger that disna ken ane o's frae anither."
+
+"It's a' for the best, Paitrick, an' ye 'ill see that in a whilie. A've
+kent fine that ma day wes ower, an' that ye sud hae a younger man.
+
+"A' did what a' cud tae keep up wi' the new medicine, but a' hed little
+time for readin', an' nane for traivellin'.
+
+"A'm the last o' the auld schule, an' a' ken as weel as onybody thet a'
+wesna sae dainty an' fine-mannered as the town doctors. Ye 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," interrupted
+Drumsheugh, huskily, "a'll leave the hoose; a' canna stand it."
+
+"It's the truth, Paitrick, but we 'ill gae on wi' our wark, far a'm
+failin' fast.
+
+"Gie Janet ony sticks of furniture she needs tae furnish a hoose,
+and sell a' thing else tae pay the wricht (undertaker) an' bedrel
+(grave-digger). If the new doctor be a young laddie and no verra rich,
+ye micht let him hae the buiks an' instruments; it 'ill aye be a help.
+
+"But a' wudna like ye tae sell Jess, for she's been a faithfu' servant,
+an' a freend tae. There's a note or twa in that drawer a' savit, an'
+if ye kent ony man that wud gie her a bite o' grass and a sta' in his
+stable till she followed her maister--'
+
+"Confoond ye, Weelum," broke out Drumsheugh; "its doonricht cruel o' ye
+to speak like this tae me. Whar wud Jess gang but tae Drumsheugh? she
+'ill hae her run o' heck an' manger sae lang as she lives; the Glen
+wudna like tae see anither man on Jess, and nae man 'ill ever touch the
+auld mare."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Dinna mind me, Paitrick, for a" expeckit this; but ye ken we're no
+verra gleg wi' oor tongues in Drumtochty, an' dinna tell a' that's in
+oor hearts.
+
+"Weel, that's a' that a' mind, an' the rest a' leave tae yersel'. A've
+neither kith nor kin tae bury me, sae you an' the neeburs 'ill need tae
+lat me doon; but gin Tammas Mitchell or Saunders be stannin' near and
+lookin' as if they wud like a cord, gie't tae them, Paitrick. They're
+baith dour chiels, and haena muckle tae say, but Tammas hes a graund
+hert, and there's waur fouk in the Glen than Saunders.
+
+"A'm gettin' drowsy, an' a'll no be able tae follow ye sune, a' doot;
+wud ye read a bit tae me afore a' fa' ower?
+
+"Ye 'ill find ma mither's Bible on the drawers' heid, but ye 'ill need
+tae come close tae the bed, for a'm no hearin' or seein' sae weel as a'
+wes when ye cam."
+
+Drumsheugh put on his spectacles and searched for a comfortable
+Scripture, while the light of the lamp fell on his shaking hands and the
+doctor's face where the shadow was now settling.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Ma mither aye wantit this read tae her when she wes sober" (weak), and
+Drumsheugh began, "In My Father's house are many mansions," but MacLure
+stopped him.
+
+"It's a bonnie word, an' yir mither wes a sanct; but it's no for the
+like o' me. It's ower gude; a' daurna tak it.
+
+"Shut the buik an' let it open itsel, an' ye 'ill get a bit a've been
+readin' every nicht the laist month."
+
+Then Drumsheugh found the Parable wherein the Master tells us what God
+thinks of a Pharisee and of a penitent sinner, till he came to the
+words: "And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so
+much as his eyes to heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be
+merciful to me a sinner."
+
+"That micht hae been written for me, Paitrick, or ony ither auld sinner
+that hes feenished his life, an' hes naethin' tae say for himsel'.
+
+"It wesna easy for me tae get tae kirk, but a' cud hae managed wi' a
+stretch, an' a' used 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 I
+wes sorry, an' a'm houpin' that the Almichty 'ill hae mercy on me.
+
+"Cud ye ... pit up a bit prayer, Paitrick?"
+
+"A' haena the words," said Drumsheugh in great distress; "wud ye like's
+tae send for the minister?"
+
+"It's no the time for that noo, an' a' wud rather hae yersel'--juist
+what's in yir heart, Paitrick: the Almichty 'ill ken the lave (rest)
+Himsel'."
+
+So Drumsheugh knelt and prayed with many pauses.
+
+"Almichty God ... dinna be hard on Weelum MacLure, for he's no been hard
+wi' onybody in Drumtochty.... Be kind tae him as he's been tae us a' for
+forty year.... We're a' sinners afore Thee.... Forgive him what he's
+dune wrang, an' dinna cuist it up tae him.... Mind the fouk he's helpit
+.... the wee-men an' bairnies.... an' gie him a welcome hame, for he's
+sair needin't after a' his wark.... Amen."
+
+"Thank ye, Paitrick, and gude nicht tae ye. Ma ain true freend, gie's
+yir hand, for a'll maybe no ken ye again.
+
+"Noo a'll say ma mither's prayer and hae a sleep, but ye 'ill no leave
+me till a' is ower."
+
+Then he repeated as he had done every night of his life:
+
+  "This night I lay me down to sleep,
+  I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
+  And if I die before I wake,
+  I pray the Lord my soul to take."
+
+He was sleeping quietly when the wind drove the snow against the window
+with a sudden "swish;" and he instantly awoke, so to say, in his sleep.
+Some one needed him.
+
+"Are ye frae Glen Urtach?" and an unheard voice seemed to have answered
+him.
+
+"Worse is she, an' suffering awfu'; that's no lichtsome; ye did richt
+tae come.
+
+"The front door's drifted up; gang roond tae the back, an' ye 'ill get
+intae the kitchen; a'll be ready in a meenut.
+
+"Gie's a hand wi' the lantern when a'm saidling Jess, an' ye needna come
+on till daylicht; a' ken the road."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Then he was away in his sleep on some errand of mercy, and struggling
+through the storm. "It's a coorse nicht, Jess, an' heavy traivellin';
+can ye see afore ye, lass? for a'm clean confused wi' the snaw; bide a
+wee till a' find the diveesion o' the roads; it's aboot here back or
+forrit.
+
+"Steady, lass, steady, dinna plunge; i'ts a drift we're in, but ye're no
+sinkin'; ... up noo; ... there ye are on the road again.
+
+"Eh, it's deep the nicht, an' hard on us baith, but there's a puir
+wumman micht dee if we didna warstle through; ... that's it; ye ken fine
+what a'm sayin.'
+
+"We 'ill hae tae leave the road here, an' tak tae the muir. Sandie 'ill
+no can leave the wife alane tae meet us; ... feel for yersel" lass, and
+keep oot o' the holes.
+
+"Yon's the hoose black in the snaw. 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 lang
+aifter that; we're ready for oor beds, Jess.... ay, ye like a clap at a
+time; mony a mile we've gaed hegither.
+
+"Yon's the licht in the kitchen window; nae wonder ye're nickering
+(neighing).... it's been a stiff journey; a'm tired, lass.... a'm tired
+tae deith," and the voice died into silence.
+
+Drumsheugh held his friend's hand, which now and again tightened in his,
+and as he watched, a change came over the face on the pillow beside him.
+The lines of weariness 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 to
+his boyhood.
+
+[Illustration: "SHE'S CARRYIN' A LIGHT IN HER HAND"]
+
+"The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want,"  he repeated, till he came to
+the 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 haed
+ready when she cam.
+
+"'A'll come afore ye gang tae sleep, Wullie, but ye 'ill no get yir kiss
+unless ye can feenish the psalm.'
+
+"And ... in God's house ... for evermore my ... hoo dis it rin? a canna
+mind the next word ... my, my--
+
+"It's ower dark noo tae read it, an' mither 'ill sune be comin."
+
+Drumsheugh, in an agony, whispered into his ear, "'My dwelling-place,'
+Weelum."
+
+"That's it, that's it a' noo; wha said it?
+
+  "And in God's house for evermore
+  My dwelling-place shall be.
+
+"A'm ready noo, an' a'll get ma kiss when mither comes; a' wish she wud
+come, for a'm tired an' wantin' tae sleep.
+
+"Yon's her step ... an' she's carryin' a licht in her hand; a' see it
+through the door.
+
+"Mither! a' kent ye wudna forget yir laddie 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 be
+asleep."
+
+The grey morning light fell on Drumsheugh, still holding his friend's
+cold hand, and staring at a hearth where the fire had died down into
+white ashes; but the peace on the doctor's face was of one who rested
+from his labours.
+
+
+
+
+
+                  THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN
+
+
+V.
+
+THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN.
+
+Dr. MacLure was buried during the great snowstorm which is still spoken
+of, and will remain the standard of snowfall in Drumtochty for the
+century. The snow was deep on the Monday, and the men that gave notice
+of his funeral had hard work to reach the doctor's distant patients.
+On Tuesday morning it began to fall again in heavy, fleecy flakes, and
+continued till Thursday, and then on Thursday the north wind rose and
+swept the snow into the hollows of the roads that went to the upland
+farms, and built it into a huge bank at the mouth of Glen Urtach, and
+laid it across our main roads in drifts of every size and the most
+lovely shapes, and filled up crevices in the hills to the depth of fifty
+feet.
+
+On Friday morning the wind had sunk to passing gusts that powdered
+your coat with white, and the sun was shining on one of those winter
+landscapes no townsman can imagine and no countryman ever forgets. The
+Glen, from end to end and side to side, was clothed in a glistering
+mantle white as no fuller on earth could white it, that flung its skirts
+over the clumps of trees and scattered farmhouses, and was only divided
+where the Tochty ran with black, swollen stream. The great moor rose and
+fell in swelling billows of snow that arched themselves over the burns,
+running deep in the mossy ground, and hid the black peat bogs with a
+thin, treacherous crust.
+
+[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 our
+lower Grampians, we caught glimpses of the distant peaks that lifted
+their heads in holiness unto God.
+
+It seemed to me a fitting day for William MacLure's funeral, rather than
+summer time, with its flowers and golden corn. He had not been a soft
+man, nor had he lived an easy life, and now he was to be laid to rest
+amid the austere majesty of winter, yet in the shining of the sun. Jamie
+Soutar, with whom I toiled across the Glen, did not think with me, but
+was gravely concerned.
+
+"Nae doot it's a graund sicht; the like o't is no gien tae us twice in
+a generation, an' nae king wes ever carried tae his tomb in sic a
+cathedral.
+
+"But it's the fouk a'm conseederin', an' hoo they'll win through; it's
+hard eneuch for them 'at's on the road, an' it's clean impossible for
+the 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-bodied
+men missin'.
+
+"A' wes mad at them, because they never said onything when he wes
+leevin', but they felt for a' that what he hed dune, an', a' think, he
+kent it afore he deed.
+
+"He hed juist ae faut, tae ma thinkin', for a' never jidged the waur
+o' him for his titch of rochness--guid trees hae gnarled bark--but he
+thotched ower little o' himsel'.
+
+"Noo, gin a' hed asked him hoo mony fouk wud come tae his beerial, he
+wud hae said, 'They 'ill be Drumsheugh an' yersel', an' may be twa or
+three neeburs besides the minister,' an' the fact is that nae man in oor
+time wud hae sic a githerin' if it werena for the storm.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Ye see," said Jamie, who had been counting heads all morning, "there's
+six shepherds in Glen Urtaeh--they're shut up fast; an' there micht hae
+been a gude half dizen frae Dunleith wy, an' a'm telt there's nae road;
+an' there's the heich Glen, nae man cud cross the muir the day, an' it's
+aucht mile round;" and Jamie proceeded to review the Glen in every
+detail of age, driftiness of road and strength of  body, till we arrived
+at the doctor's cottage, when he had settled on a reduction of fifty
+through stress of weather.
+
+[Illustration: "ANE OF THEM GIED OWER THE HEAD IN A DRIFT, AND HIS
+NEEBURS HAD TAE PU' HIM OOT,"]
+
+Drumsheugh was acknowledged as chief mourner by the Glen, and received
+us at the gate with a labored attempt at everyday manners.
+
+"Ye've hed heavy traivellin', a' doot, an' ye 'ill be cauld. It's hard
+weather for the sheep an' a'm thinkin' this 'ill be a feeding storm.
+
+"There wes nae use trying tae dig oot the front door yestreen, for it
+wud hae been drifted up again before morning. We've cleared awa the snow
+at the back for the prayer; ye 'ill get in at the kitchen door.
+
+"There's a puckle Dunleith men-----"
+
+"Wha?" cried Jamie in an instant.
+
+"Dunleith men," said Drumsheugh.
+
+"Div ye mean they're here, whar are they?"
+
+"Drying themsels at the fire, an' no withoot need; ane of them gied
+ower the head in a drift, and his neeburs hed tae pu' him oot.
+
+"It took them a gude fower oors tae get across, an' it wes coorse wark;
+they likit him weel doon that wy, an', Jamie, man"--here Drumsheugh's
+voice changed its note, and his public manner disappeared--"what div ye
+think o' this? every man o' them has on his blacks."
+
+"It's mair than cud be expeckit" said Jamie; "but whar dae yon men come
+frae, Drumsheugh?"
+
+Two men in plaids were descending the hill behind the doctor's cottage,
+taking three feet at a stride, and carrying long staffs in their hands.
+
+"They're Glen Urtach men, Jamie, for are o' them wes at Kildrummie fair
+wi' sheep, but hoo they've wun doon passes me."
+
+"It canna be, Drumsheugh," said Jamie, greatly excited. "Glen Urtach's
+steikit up wi' sna like a locked door.
+
+[Illustration: "TWO MEN IN PLAIDS WERE DESCENDING THE HILL"]
+
+"Ye're no surely frae the Glen, lads?" as the men leaped the dyke and
+crossed to the back door, the snow falling from their plaids as they
+walked.
+
+"We're that an' nae mistak, but a' thocht we wud be lickit ae place, eh,
+Charlie? a'm no sae weel acquant wi' the hill on this side, an' there
+wes some kittle (hazardous) drifts."
+
+"It wes grand o' ye tae mak the attempt," said Drumsheugh, "an' a'm gled
+ye're safe."
+
+"He cam through as bad himsel' tae help ma wife," was Charlie's reply.
+
+"They're three mair Urtach shepherds 'ill come in by sune; they're frae
+Upper Urtach an' we saw them fording the river; ma certes it took them
+a' their time, for it wes up tae their waists and rinnin' like a mill
+lade, but they jined hands and cam ower fine." And the Urtach men went
+in to the fire. The Glen began to arrive in twos and threes, and Jamie,
+from a point of vantage at the gate, and under an appearance of utter
+indifference, checked his roll till even he was satisfied.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Weelum MacLure 'ill hae the beerial he deserves in spite o' sna and
+drifts; it passes a' tae see hoo they've githered frae far an' near.
+
+"A'm thinkin' ye can colleck them for the minister noo, Drumsheugh.
+A'body's here 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 Adam
+Ross absent, detained by force, being eighty-two years of age.
+
+"It wud hae been temptin' Providence tae cross the muir," Whinnie
+explained, "and it's a fell stap roond; a' doot we're laist."
+
+"See, Jamie," said Drumsheugh, as he went to the house, "gin there be
+ony antern body in sicht afore we begin; we maun mak allooances the day
+wi' twa feet o' sna on the grund, tae say naethin' o' drifts."
+
+"There's something at the 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 a
+dogcairt 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 ony
+ither doctors. A' ken thae horses, and wha's ahind them. Quick, man,
+Hillocks, stop the fouk, and tell Drumsheugh tae come oot, for Lord
+Kilspindie hes come up frae Muirtown Castle."
+
+Jamie himself slipped behind, and did not wish to be seen.
+
+"It's the respeck he's gettin' the day frae high an' low," was Jamie's
+husky apology; "tae think o' them fetchin' their wy doon frae Glen
+Urtach, and toiling roond frae the heich Glen, an' his Lordship driving
+through the drifts a' the road frae Muirtown, juist tae honour Weelum
+MacLure's beerial.
+
+[Illustration: "TWA HORSES, ANE AFORE THE ITHER"]
+
+"It's nae ceremony the day, ye may lippen tae it; it's the hert brocht
+the fouk, an' ye  can see it in their faces; ilka man hes his ain
+reason, an' he's thinkin' on't though he's speakin' o' naethin' but the
+storm; he's mindin' the day Weelum pued him 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 fouk
+canna say muckle, it's an awfu' peety, and they 'ill dae their best tae
+show naethin', but a' can read it a' in their een.
+
+"But wae's me"--and Jamie broke down utterly behind a fir tree, so
+tender a thing is a cynic's heart--"that fouk 'ill tak a man's best wark
+a' his days without a word an' no dae him honour till he dees. Oh, if
+they hed only githered like this juist aince when he wes livin', an' lat
+him 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 wild
+passage in the snow-covered wheels, a broken shaft tied with rope, a
+twisted lamp, and the panting horses, pulled up between two rows of
+farmers, 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's
+how I'm half an hour late; it took us four hours' stiff work for sixteen
+miles, mostly in the drifts, of course."
+
+"It wes gude o' yir lordship, tae mak sic an effort, an' the hale Glen
+wull be gratefu' tae ye, for ony kindness tae him is kindness tae us."
+
+[Illustration: HE HAD LEFT HIS OVERCOAT AND WAS IN BLACK]
+
+"You make too much of it, Drumsheugh," and the clear, firm voice was
+heard of all; "it would have taken more than a few snow drifts to keep
+me from showing my respect to William MacLure's memory."  When all had
+gathered in a half circle before the kitchen door, Lord Kilspindie came
+out--every man noticed he had left his overcoat, and was in black, like
+the Glen--and took a place in the middle with Drumsheugh and Burnbrae,
+his two chief tenants, on the right and left, and as the minister
+appeared every man bared his head.
+
+The doctor looked on the company--a hundred men such as for strength
+and gravity you could hardly have matched in Scotland--standing out in
+picturesque relief against the white background, and he said:
+
+"It's a bitter day, friends, and some of you are old; perhaps it might
+be wise to cover your heads before I begin to pray."
+
+Lord Kilspindie, standing erect and grey-headed between the two old men,
+replied:
+
+"We thank you, Dr. Davidson, for your thoughtfulness; but he endured
+many a storm in our service, and we are not afraid of a few minutes'
+cold at his funeral."
+
+A look flashed round the stern faces, and was reflected from the
+minister, who seemed to stand higher.
+
+His prayer, we noticed with critical appreciation, was composed for the
+occasion, and the first part was a thanksgiving to God for the life work
+of our doctor, wherein each clause was a reference to his services and
+sacrifices. No one moved or said Amen--it had been strange with us--but
+when every man had heard the gratitude of his dumb heart offered to
+heaven, there was a great sigh.
+
+After which the minister prayed that we might have grace to live as this
+man had done from youth to old age, not for himself, but for others,
+and that we might be followed to our grave by somewhat of "that love
+wherewith we mourn this day Thy servant departed." Again the same sigh,
+and the minister said Amen. The "wricht" stood in the doorway without
+speaking, and four stalwart men came forward. They were the volunteers
+that would lift the coffin and carry it for the first stage. One was
+Tammas, Annie Mitchell's man; and another was Saunders Baxter, for whose
+life MacLure had his great fight with death; and the third was the Glen
+Urtach shepherd for whose wife's sake MacLure suffered a broken leg and
+three fractured ribs in a drift; and the fourth, a Dunleith man, had his
+own reasons of remembrance.
+
+"He's far lichter than ye wud expeck for sae big a man--there wesna
+muckle left o' him, ye see--but the road is heavy, and a'il change ye
+aifter 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 thankful
+some one had saved him speaking.
+
+Surely no funeral is like unto that of a doctor for pathos, and a
+peculiar sadness fell on that company as his body was carried out who
+for nearly half a century had been their help in sickness, and had
+beaten back death time after time from their door. Death after all
+was victor, for the man that had saved them had not been able to save
+himself.
+
+As the coffin passed the stable door a horse nieghed within, and every
+man looked at his neighbour. It was his old mare crying to her master.
+
+Jamie slipped into the stable, and went up into the stall.
+
+"Puir lass, ye're no gaen' wi' him the day, an' ye 'ill never see him
+again; ye've hed yir last ride thegither, an' ye were true tae the end."
+
+[Illustration: "DEATH AFTER ALL WAS VICTOR"]
+
+After the funeral Drumsheugh came himself for Jess, and took her to his
+farm. Saunders made a bed for her with soft, dry straw, and prepared for
+her supper such things as horses love. Jess would neither take food nor
+rest, but moved uneasily in her stall, and seemed to be waiting for some
+one that never came. No man knows what a horse or a dog understands and
+feels, for God hath not given them our speech. If any footstep was heard
+in the courtyard, she began to neigh, and was always looking round as
+the door opened. But nothing would tempt her to eat, and in the
+night-time Drumsheugh heard her crying as if she expected to be taken
+out for some sudden journey. The Kildrummie veterinary came to see her,
+and said that nothing could be done when it happened after this fashion
+with an old horse.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"A've seen it aince afore," he said. "Gin she were a Christian instead
+o' a horse, ye micht say she wes dying o' a broken hert."
+
+He recommended that she should be shot to end her misery, but no man
+could be found in the Glen to do the deed and Jess relieved them of the
+trouble. When Drumsheugh went to the stable on Monday morning, a week
+after Dr. MacLure fell on sleep, Jess was resting at last, but her eyes
+were 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, the
+coffin first, with his lordship and Drumsheugh behind, and the others as
+they pleased, but in closer ranks than usual, because the snow on either
+side was deep, and because this was not as other funerals. They could
+see the women standing at the door of every house on the hillside, and
+weeping, for each family had some good reason in forty years to remember
+MacLure. When Bell Baxter saw Saunders alive, and the coffin of the
+doctor that saved him on her man's shoulder, she bowed her head on the
+dyke, and the bairns in the village made such a wail for him they loved
+that the men nearly disgraced themselves.
+
+"A'm gled we're through that, at ony rate," said Hillocks; "he wes awfu'
+taen up wi' the bairns, conseederin' he hed nane o' his ain."
+
+There was only one drift on the road between his cottage and the
+kirkyard, and it had been cut early that morning. Before daybreak
+Saunders had roused the lads in the bothy, and they had set to work by
+the light of lanterns with such good will that, when Drumsheugh came
+down to engineer a circuit for the funeral, there was a fair passage,
+with walls of snow twelve feet high on either side.
+
+[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 gang
+round; 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 only
+blackness in the white kirkyard, Tammas Mitchell did the most beautiful
+thing in all his life. He knelt down and carefully wiped off the snow
+the wind had blown upon the coffin, and which had covered the name,
+and when he had done this he disappeared behind the others, so that
+Drumsheugh could hardly find him to take a cord. For these were the
+eight that buried Dr. MacLure--Lord Kilspindie at the head as landlord
+and Drumsheugh at his feet as his friend; the two ministers of the
+parish came first on the right and left; then Burnbrae and Hillocks of
+the farmers, and Saunders and Tammas for the plowmen. So the Glen he
+loved laid him to rest.
+
+When the bedrel had finished his work and the turf had been spread, Lord
+Kilspindie spoke:
+
+"Friends of Drumtochty, it would not be right that we should part in
+silence and no man say what is in every heart. We have buried the
+remains of one that served this Glen with a devotion that has known no
+reserve, and a kindliness that never failed, for more than forty years.
+I have seen many brave men in my day, but no man in the trenches of
+Sebastopol carried himself more knightly than William MacLure. You will
+never have heard from his lips what I may tell you to-day, that my
+father secured for him a valuable post in his younger days, and he
+preferred to work among his own people; and I wished to do many things
+for him when he was old, but he would have nothing for himself. He will
+never be forgotten while one of us lives, and I pray that all doctors
+everywhere may share his spirit. If it be your pleasure, I shall erect
+a cross above his grave, and shall ask my old friend and companion Dr.
+Davidson, your minister, to choose the text to be inscribed."
+
+"We thank you, Lord Kilspindie," said the doctor, "for your presence
+with us in our 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 wark
+weel, but it wes a peety he didna mak mair profession o' releegion."
+
+"When William MacLure appears before the Judge, Milton," said Lachlan
+Campbell, who that day spoke his last words in public, and they were in
+defence of charity, "He will not be asking him about his professions,
+for the doctor's judgment hass been ready long ago; and it iss a good
+judgment, 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 not
+be expecting it."
+
+"What is't Lachlan?" asked Jamie Soutar eagerly.
+
+The old man, now very feeble, stood in the middle of the road, and his
+face, once so hard, was softened into a winsome tenderness.
+
+              "'Come, ye blessed of My Father
+              ... I was sick and ye visited Me.'"
+
+[Illustration: GREATER LOVE HATH NO MAN THAN THIS, THAT A MAN LAY DOWN
+HIS LIFE FOR HIS FRIENDS.]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Doctor of the Old School, Complete
+by Ian Maclaren
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+  <head>
+    <title>
+      A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL, COMPLETE
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 2em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 20%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 25%;}
+    div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    pre     { font-family: Times; font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+    <h1>
+      A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL
+    </h1>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+Project Gutenberg's A Doctor of the Old School, Complete, by Ian Maclaren
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Doctor of the Old School, Complete
+
+Author: Ian Maclaren
+
+Release Date: November 1, 2006 [EBook #9320]
+Last Updated: March 1, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL, ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger and PG Distributed
+Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+    <div class="mynote">
+      <i><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/9320/old/orig9320-h/main.htm">
+      LINK TO THE ORIGINAL HTML FILE: This Ebook Has Been Reformatted For Better
+      Appearance In Mobile Viewers Such As Kindles And Others. The Original
+      Format, Which The Editor Believes Has A More Attractive Appearance For
+      Laptops And Other Computers, May Be Viewed By Clicking On This Box.</a></i>
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL
+    </h1>
+    <h2>
+      By Ian Maclaren
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <a name="linkFrontispiece" id="linkFrontispiece"></a> <a
+      href="images/Frontispiece.png">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="Frontispiece.jpg (87K)" src="images/Frontispiece.jpg"
+       width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <a href="images/001.png">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="001.jpg (155K)" src="images/001.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      ILLUSTRATIONS
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      [A click on the face of any illustration<br /> will enlarge it to full
+      size.]<br /><br /> <a href="#linkFrontispiece">DR. MacLURE</a><br /> <br /> <a
+      href="#link012">BOOK I. A GENERAL PRACTITIONER</a><br /><br /> <a
+      href="#link014">Sandy Stewart &ldquo;Napped&rdquo; Stones</a><br /><br /> <a
+      href="#link019">The Gudewife is Keepin' up a Ding-Dong</a><br /><br /> <a
+      href="#link020">His House&mdash;little more than a cottage</a><br /><br />
+      <a href="#link023">Whirling Past in a Cloud of Dust</a><br /><br /> <a
+      href="#link025">Will He Never Come?</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link028">The
+      Verra Look o' Him wes Victory</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link029">Weeping by
+      Her Man's Bedside</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link031">Men Get the Victoria
+      Cross in Other Fields</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link036">Hopps' Laddie Ate
+      Grosarts</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link041">There werna Mair than Four at
+      Nicht</a><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a href="#link044">BOOK II. THROUGH THE
+      FLOOD</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link046">A' doot Yir Gaein' tae Lose Her,
+      Tammas</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link049">The Bonniest, Snoddest, Kindliest
+      Lass in the Glen</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link050">The Winter Night was
+      Falling Fast</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link051">Comin' tae Meet Me in the
+      Gloamin?</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link056">It's oot o' the Question, Jess,
+      sae Hurry up</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link058">It's a Fell Chairge for a
+      Short Day's Work</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link061">The East had Come to
+      Meet the West</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link064">MacLure Explained that it
+      would be an Eventful Journey</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link066">They Passed
+      through the Shallow Water without Mishap</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link069">A
+      Heap of Speechless Misery by the Kitchen Fire</a><br /><br /> <a
+      href="#link071">Ma ain Dear Man</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link074">I'm Proud
+      to have Met You</a><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a href="#link078">BOOK III. A
+      FIGHT WITH DEATH</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link080">Gave Way Utterly</a><br /><br />
+      <a href="#link082">Fillin' His Lungs for Five and Thirty Year wi' Strong
+      Drumtochty Air</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link085">Bell Leant Over the Bed</a><br /><br />
+      <a href="#link088">A Large Tub</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link091">The
+      Lighted Window in Saunder's Cottage</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link094">A
+      Clenched Fist Resting on the Bed</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link097">The
+      Doctor was Attempting the Highland Fling</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link098">Sleepin'
+      on the Top o' Her Bed</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link100">A' Prayed Last
+      Nicht</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link102">I've a Cold in My Head To-night</a><br /><br />
+      <a href="#link106">Jess Bolted without Delay</a><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a
+      href="#link110">BOOK IV. THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY</a><br /><br /> <a
+      href="#link112">Comin' in Frae Glen Urtach</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link115">Drumsheugh
+      was Full of Tact</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link118">Told Drumsheugh that the
+      Doctor was not Able to Rise</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link121">With the Old
+      Warm Grip</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link124">Drumsheugh Looked Wistfully</a><br /><br />
+      <a href="#link128">Wud Gie Her a Bite o' Grass</a><br /><br /> <a
+      href="#link130">Ma Mither's Bible</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link134">It's a
+      Coorse Nicht, Jess</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link137">She's Carryin' a Licht
+      in Her Hand</a><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a href="#link141">BOOK V. THE
+      MOURNING OF THE GLEN</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link143">The Tochty Ran with
+      Black, Swollen Stream</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link145">Toiled Across the
+      Glen</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link147">There was Nae Use Trying tae Dig Oot
+      the Front Door</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link148">Ane of Them Gied Ower the
+      Head in a Drift</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link151">Two Men in Plaids were
+      Descending the Hill</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link153">Jined Hands and Cam
+      ower Fine</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link156">Twa Horses, Ane afore the Ither</a><br /><br />
+      <a href="#link159">He had Left His Overcoat, and was in Black</a><br /><br />
+      <a href="#link164">Death after All was Victor</a><br /><br /> <a
+      href="#link165">She Began to Neigh</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link168">They
+      had Set to Work</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link169">Standing at the Door</a><br /><br />
+      <a href="#link174">Finis</a><br /><br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      A GENERAL PRACTITIONER.
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /> <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      PREFACE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It is with great good will that I write this short preface to the edition
+      of &ldquo;A Doctor of the Old School&rdquo; (which has been illustrated by Mr. Gordon
+      after an admirable and understanding fashion) because there are two things
+      that I should like to say to my readers, being also my friends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One, is to answer a question that has been often and fairly asked. Was
+      there ever any doctor so self-forgetful and so utterly Christian as
+      William MacLure? To which I am proud to reply, on my conscience: Not one
+      man, but many in Scotland and in the South country. I will dare prophecy
+      also across the sea.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It has been one man's good fortune to know four country doctors, not one
+      of whom was without his faults&mdash;Weelum was not perfect&mdash;but who,
+      each one, might have sat for my hero. Three are now resting from their
+      labors, and the fourth, if he ever should see these lines, would never
+      identify himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then I desire to thank my readers, and chiefly the medical profession for
+      the reception given to the Doctor of Drumtochty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For many years I have desired to pay some tribute to a class whose service
+      to the community was known to every countryman, but after the tale had
+      gone forth my heart failed. For it might have been despised for the little
+      grace of letters in the style and because of the outward roughness of the
+      man. But neither his biographer nor his circumstances have 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 in commendation of Weelum
+      MacLure, and many were from doctors who had received new courage. It is
+      surely more honor than a new writer could ever have deserved to receive
+      the approbation of a profession whose charity puts us all to shame.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      May I take this first opportunity to declare how deeply my heart has been
+      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 face to face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      IAN MACLAREN. Liverpool, Oct. 4, 1895.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /> <a name="linkI" id="linkI"></a> <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      A GENERAL PRACTITIONER.
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /> <a name="link012" id="link012"></a> <br /><br /> <a
+      href="images/012.png">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="012.jpg (73K)" src="images/012.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumtochty was accustomed to break every law of health, except wholesome
+      food and fresh air, and yet had reduced the Psalmist's farthest limit to
+      an average life-rate. Our men made no difference in their clothes for
+      summer or winter, Drumsheugh and one or two of the larger farmers
+      condescending to a topcoat on Sabbath, as a penalty of their position, and
+      without regard to temperature. They wore their blacks at a funeral,
+      refusing to cover them with anything, out of respect to the deceased, and
+      standing longest in the kirkyard when the north wind was blowing across a
+      hundred miles of snow. If the rain was pouring at the Junction, then
+      Drumtochty stood two minutes longer through sheer native dourness till
+      each man had a cascade from the tail of his coat, and hazarded the
+      suggestion, halfway to Kildrummie, that it had been &ldquo;a bit scrowie,&rdquo; a
+      &ldquo;scrowie&rdquo; being as far short of a &ldquo;shoor&rdquo; as a &ldquo;shoor&rdquo; fell below &ldquo;weet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link014" id="link014"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/014.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="014.jpg (67K)" src="images/014.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This sustained defiance of the elements provoked occasional judgments in
+      the shape of a &ldquo;hoast&rdquo; (cough), and the head of the house was then
+      exhorted by his women folk to &ldquo;change his feet&rdquo; if he had happened to walk
+      through a burn on his way home, and was pestered generally with sanitary
+      precautions. It is right to add that the gudeman treated such advice with
+      contempt, regarding it as suitable for the effeminacy of towns, but not
+      seriously intended for Drumtochty. Sandy Stewart &ldquo;napped&rdquo; stones on the
+      road in his shirt sleeves, wet or fair, summer and winter, till he was
+      persuaded to retire from active duty at eighty-five, and he spent ten
+      years more in regretting his hastiness and criticising his successor. The
+      ordinary course of life, with fine air and contented minds, was to do a
+      full share of work till seventy, and then to look after &ldquo;orra&rdquo; jobs well
+      into the eighties, and to &ldquo;slip awa&rdquo; within sight of ninety. Persons above
+      ninety were understood to be acquitting themselves with credit, and
+      assumed airs of authority, brushing aside the opinions of seventy as
+      immature, and confirming their conclusions with illustrations drawn from
+      the end of last century.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Hillocks' brother so far forgot himself as to &ldquo;slip awa&rdquo; at sixty,
+      that worthy man was scandalized, and offered laboured explanations at the
+      &ldquo;beerial.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's an awfu' business ony wy ye look at it, an' a sair trial tae us a'.
+      A' never heard tell o' sic a thing in oor family afore, an' it's no easy
+      accoontin' for't.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The gudewife was sayin' he wes never the same sin' a weet nicht he lost
+      himsel on the muir and slept below a bush; but that's neither here nor
+      there. A'm thinkin' he sappit his constitution thae twa years he wes
+      grieve aboot England. That wes thirty years syne, but ye're never the same
+      aifter thae foreign climates.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumtochty listened patiently to Hillocks' apology, but was not satisfied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's clean havers about the muir. Losh keep's, we've a' sleepit oot and
+      never been a hair the waur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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 hed
+      been nippit in the Sooth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The parish had, in fact, lost confidence in Drums after his wayward
+      experiment with a potato-digging machine, which turned out a lamentable
+      failure, and his premature departure confirmed our vague impression of his
+      character.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's awa noo,&rdquo; Drumsheugh summed up, after opinion had time to form; &ldquo;an'
+      there were waur fouk than Drums, but there's nae doot he was a wee
+      flichty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When illness had the audacity to attack a Drumtochty man, it was described
+      as a &ldquo;whup,&rdquo; and was treated by the men with a fine negligence. Hillocks
+      was sitting in the post-office one afternoon when I looked in for my
+      letters, and the right side of his face was blazing red. His subject of
+      discourse was the prospects of the turnip &ldquo;breer,&rdquo; but he casually
+      explained that he was waiting for medical advice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The gudewife is keepin' up a ding-dong frae mornin' till nicht aboot ma
+      face, and a'm fair deaved (deafened), so a'm watchin' for MacLure tae get
+      a bottle as he comes wast; yon's him noo.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor made his diagnosis from horseback on sight, and stated the
+      result with that admirable clearness which endeared him to Drumtochty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Confoond ye, Hillocks, what are ye ploiterin' aboot here for in the weet
+      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' ye afore a'
+      leave the bit, and send a haflin for some medicine. Ye donnerd idiot, are
+      ye ettlin tae follow Drums afore yir time?&rdquo; And the medical attendant of
+      Drumtochty continued his invective till Hillocks started, and still
+      pursued his retreating figure with medical directions of a simple and
+      practical character.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link019" id="link019"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/019.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="019.jpg (64K)" src="images/019.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A'm watchin', an' peety ye if ye pit aff time. Keep yir bed the mornin',
+      and dinna show yir face in the fields till a' see ye. A'll gie ye a cry on
+      Monday&mdash;sic an auld fule&mdash;but there's no are o' them tae mind
+      anither in the hale pairish.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link020" id="link020"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/020.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="020.jpg (69K)" src="images/020.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hillocks' wife informed the kirkyaird that the doctor &ldquo;gied the gudeman an
+      awfu' clear-in',&rdquo; and that Hillocks &ldquo;wes keepin' the hoose,&rdquo; which meant
+      that the patient had tea breakfast, and at that time was wandering about
+      the farm buildings in an easy undress with his head in a plaid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was impossible for a doctor to earn even the most modest competence
+      from a people of such scandalous health, and so MacLure had annexed
+      neighbouring parishes. His house&mdash;little more than a cottage&mdash;stood
+      on the roadside among the pines towards the head of our Glen, and from
+      this base of operations he dominated the wild glen that broke the wall of
+      the Grampians above Drumtochty&mdash;where the snow drifts were twelve
+      feet deep in winter, and the only way of passage at times was the channel
+      of the river&mdash;and the moorland district westwards till he came to the
+      Dunleith sphere of influence, where there were four doctors and a
+      hydropathic. Drumtochty in its length, which was eight miles, and its
+      breadth, which was 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 way thereto was across the big moor with its peat holes and
+      treacherous bogs. And he held the land eastwards towards Muirtown so far
+      as Geordie, the Drumtochty post, travelled every day, and could carry word
+      that the doctor was wanted. He did his best for the need of every man,
+      woman and child in this wild, straggling district, year in, year out, in
+      the snow and in the heat, in the dark and in the light, without rest, and
+      without holiday for forty years.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One horse could not do the work of this man, but we liked best to see him
+      on his old white mare, who died the week after her master, and the passing
+      of the two did our hearts good. It was not that he rode beautifully, for
+      he broke every canon of art, flying with his arms, stooping till he seemed
+      to be speaking into Jess's ears, and rising in the saddle beyond all
+      necessity. But he could rise faster, stay longer in the saddle, and had a
+      firmer grip with his knees than any one I ever met, and it was all for
+      mercy's sake. When the reapers in harvest time saw a figure whirling past
+      in a cloud of dust, or the family at the foot of Glen Urtach, gathered
+      round the fire on a winter's night, heard the rattle of a horse's hoofs on
+      the road, or the shepherds, out after the sheep, traced a black speck
+      moving across the snow to the upper glen, they knew it was the doctor,
+      and, without being conscious of it, wished him God speed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link023" id="link023"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/023.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="023.jpg (80K)" src="images/023.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before and behind his saddle were strapped the instruments and medicines
+      the doctor might want, for he never knew what was before him. There were
+      no specialists in Drumtochty, so this man had to do everything as best he
+      could, and as quickly. He was chest doctor and doctor for every other
+      organ as well; he was accoucheur and surgeon; he was oculist and aurist;
+      he was dentist and chloroformist, besides being chemist and druggist. It
+      was often told how he was far up Glen Urtach when the feeders of the
+      threshing mill caught young Burnbrae, and how he only stopped to change
+      horses at his house, and galloped all the way to Burnbrae, and flung
+      himself off his horse and amputated the arm, and saved the lad's life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You wud hae thocht that every meenut was an hour,&rdquo; said Jamie Soutar, who
+      had been at the threshing, &ldquo;an' a'll never forget the puir lad lying as
+      white as deith on the floor o' the loft, wi' his head on a sheaf, an'
+      Burnbrae haudin' the bandage ticht an' prayin' a' the while, and the
+      mither greetin' in the corner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Will he never come?' she cries, an' a' heard the soond o' the horse's
+      feet on the road a mile awa in the frosty air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link025" id="link025"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/025.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="025.jpg (109K)" src="images/025.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'The Lord be praised!' said Burnbrae, and a' slippit doon the ladder as
+      the doctor came skelpin' intae the close, the foam fleein' frae his
+      horse's mooth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whar is he?' wes a' that passed his lips, an' in five meenuts he hed him
+      on the feedin' board, and wes at his wark&mdash;sic wark, neeburs&mdash;but
+      he did it weel. An' ae thing a' thocht rael thochtfu' o' him: he first
+      sent aff the laddie's mither tae get a bed ready.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Noo that's feenished, and his constitution 'ill dae the rest,&rdquo; and he
+      carried the lad doon the ladder in his airms like a bairn, and laid him in
+      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' hevna
+      tasted meat for saxteen hoors.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was michty tae see him come intae the yaird that day, neeburs; the
+      verra look o' him wes victory.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link028" id="link028"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/028.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="028.jpg (71K)" src="images/028.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jamie's cynicism slipped off in the enthusiasm of this reminiscence, and
+      he expressed the feeling of Drumtochty. No one sent for MacLure save in
+      great straits, and the sight of him put courage in sinking hearts. But
+      this was not by the grace of his appearance, or the advantage of a good
+      bedside manner. A tall, gaunt, loosely made man, without an ounce of
+      superfluous flesh on his body, his face burned a dark brick color by
+      constant exposure to the weather, red hair and beard turning grey, honest
+      blue eyes that look you ever in the face, huge hands with wrist bones like
+      the shank of a ham, and a voice that hurled his salutations across two
+      fields, he suggested the moor rather than the drawing-room. But what a
+      clever hand it was in an operation, as delicate as a woman's, and what a
+      kindly voice it was in the humble room where the shepherd's wife was
+      weeping by her man's bedside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link029" id="link029"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/029.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="029.jpg (115K)" src="images/029.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was &ldquo;ill pitten the gither&rdquo; to begin with, but many of his physical
+      defects were the penalties of his work, and endeared him to the Glen. That
+      ugly scar that cut into his right eyebrow and gave him such a sinister
+      expression, was got one night Jess slipped on the ice and laid him
+      insensible eight miles from home. His limp marked the big snowstorm in the
+      fifties, when his horse missed the road in Glen Urtach, and they rolled
+      together in a drift. MacLure escaped with a broken leg and the fracture of
+      three ribs, but he never walked like other men again. He could not swing
+      himself into the saddle without making two attempts and holding Jess's
+      mane. Neither can you &ldquo;warstle&rdquo; through the peat bogs and snow drifts for
+      forty winters without a touch of rheumatism. But they were honorable
+      scars, and for such risks of life men get the Victoria Cross in other
+      fields.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link031" id="link031"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/031.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="031.jpg (111K)" src="images/031.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      MacLure got nothing but the secret affection of the Glen, which knew that
+      none had ever done one-tenth as much for it as this ungainly, twisted,
+      battered figure, and I have seen a Drumtochty face soften at the sight of
+      MacLure limping to his horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Hopps earned the ill-will of the Glen for ever by criticising the
+      doctor's dress, but indeed it would have filled any townsman with
+      amazement. Black he wore once a year, on Sacrament Sunday, and, if
+      possible, at a funeral; topcoat or waterproof never. His jacket and
+      waistcoat were rough homespun of Glen Urtach wool, which threw off the wet
+      like a duck's back, and below he was clad in shepherd's tartan trousers,
+      which disappeared into unpolished riding boots. His shirt was grey
+      flannel, and he was uncertain about a collar, but certain as to a tie
+      which he never had, his beard doing instead, and his hat was soft felt of
+      four colors and seven different shapes. His point of distinction in dress
+      was the trousers, and they were the subject of unending speculation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some threep that he's worn thae eedentical pair the last twenty year, an'
+      a' mind masel him gettin' a tear ahint, when he was crossin' oor palin',
+      and the mend's still veesible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ithers declare 'at he's got a wab o' claith, and hes a new pair made in
+      Muirtown aince in the twa year maybe, and keeps them in the garden till
+      the new look wears aff.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For ma ain pairt,&rdquo; Soutar used to declare, &ldquo;a' canna mak up my mind, but
+      there's ae thing sure, the Glen wud not like tae see him withoot them: it
+      wud be a shock tae confidence. There's no muckle o' the check left, but ye
+      can aye tell it, and when ye see thae breeks comin' in ye ken that if
+      human pooer can save yir bairn's life it 'ill be dune.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The confidence of the Glen&mdash;and tributary states&mdash;was unbounded,
+      and rested partly on long experience of the doctor's resources, and partly
+      on his hereditary connection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His father was here afore him,&rdquo; Mrs. Macfadyen used to explain; &ldquo;atween
+      them they've hed the countyside for weel on tae a century; if MacLure
+      disna understand oor constitution, wha dis, a' wud like tae ask?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For Drumtochty had its own constitution and a special throat disease, as
+      became a parish which was quite self-contained between the woods and the
+      hills, and not dependent on the lowlands either for its diseases or its
+      doctors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's a skilly man, Doctor MacLure,&rdquo; continued my friend Mrs. Macfayden,
+      whose judgment on sermons or anything else was seldom at fault; &ldquo;an' a
+      kind-hearted, though o' coorse he hes his faults like us a', an' he disna
+      tribble the Kirk often.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He aye can tell what's wrang wi' a body, an' maistly he can put ye richt,
+      and there's nae new-fangled wys wi' him: a blister for the ootside an'
+      Epsom salts for the inside dis his wark, an' they say there's no an herb
+      on the hills he disna ken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If we're tae dee, we're tae dee; an' if we're tae live, we're tae live,&rdquo;
+       concluded Elspeth, with sound Calvinistic logic; &ldquo;but a'll say this for
+      the doctor, that whether yir tae live or dee, he can aye keep up a sharp
+      meisture on the skin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he's no veera ceevil gin ye bring him when there's naethin' wrang,&rdquo;
+       and Mrs. Macfayden's face reflected another of Mr. Hopps' misadventures of
+      which Hillocks held the copyright.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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' he
+      writes 'immediately' on a slip o' paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'What's a dae here, Hillocks?&rdquo; he cries; 'it's no an accident, is't?' and
+      when he got aff his horse he cud hardly stand wi' stiffness and tire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'It's nane o' us, doctor; it's Hopps' laddie; he's been eatin' ower mony
+      berries.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link036" id="link036"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/036.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="036.jpg (91K)" src="images/036.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If he didna turn on me like a tiger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Div ye mean tae say&mdash;&mdash;'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Weesht, weesht,' an' I tried tae quiet him, for Hopps wes comin' oot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'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, and
+      I've never had one wink of sleep. You might have come a little quicker,
+      that's all I've got to say.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We've mair tae dae in Drumtochty than attend tae every bairn that hes a
+      sair stomach,' and a' saw MacLure wes roosed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'I'm astonished to hear you speak. Our doctor at home always says to Mrs.
+      'Opps &ldquo;Look on me as a family friend, Mrs. 'Opps, and send for me though
+      it be only a headache.&rdquo;'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'He'd be mair sparin' o' his offers if he hed four and twenty mile tae
+      look aifter. There's naethin' wrang wi' yir laddie but greed. Gie him a
+      gude dose o' castor oil and stop his meat for a day, an' he 'ill be a'
+      richt the morn.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'He 'ill not take castor oil, doctor. We have given up those barbarous
+      medicines.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Whatna kind o' medicines hae ye noo in the Sooth?'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Well, you see, Dr. MacLure, we're homoeopathists, and I've my little
+      chest here,' and oot Hopps comes wi' his boxy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Let's see't,' an' MacLure sits doon and taks oot the bit bottles, and he
+      reads the names wi' a lauch every time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Belladonna; did ye ever hear the like? Aconite; it cowes a'. Nux Vomica.
+      What next? Weel, ma mannie,' he says tae Hopps, 'it's a fine ploy, and ye
+      'ill better gang on wi' the Nux till it's dune, and gie him ony ither o'
+      the sweeties he fancies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Noo, Hillocks, a' maun be aff tae see Drumsheugh's grieve, for he's doon
+      wi' the fever, and it's tae be a teuch fecht. A' hinna time tae wait for
+      dinner; gie me some cheese an' cake in ma haund, and Jess 'ill tak a pail
+      o' meal an' water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Fee; a'm no wantin' yir fees, man; wi' that boxy ye dinna need a doctor;
+      na, na, gie yir siller tae some puir body, Maister Hopps,' an' he was doon
+      the road as hard as he cud lick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His fees were pretty much what the folk chose to give him, and he
+      collected them once a year at Kildrummie fair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, doctor, what am a' awin' ye for the wife and bairn? Ye 'ill need
+      three notes for that nicht ye stayed in the hoose an' a' the veesits.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Havers,&rdquo; MacLure would answer, &ldquo;prices are low, a'm hearing; gie's thirty
+      shillings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, a'll no, or the wife 'ill tak ma ears off,&rdquo; and it was settled for
+      two pounds. Lord Kilspindie gave him a free house and fields, and one way
+      or other, Drumsheugh told me, the doctor might get in about £150 a year,
+      out of which he had to pay his old housekeeper's wages and a boy's, and
+      keep two horses, besides the cost of instruments and books, which he
+      bought through a friend in Edinburgh with much judgment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was only one man who ever complained of the doctor's charges, and
+      that was the new farmer of Milton, who was so good that he was above both
+      churches, and held a meeting in his barn. (It was Milton the Glen supposed
+      at first to be a Mormon, but I can't go into that now.) He offered MacLure
+      a pound less than he asked, and two tracts, whereupon MacLure expressed
+      his opinion of Milton, both from a theological and social standpoint, with
+      such vigor and frankness that an attentive audience of Drumtochty men
+      could hardly contain themselves. Jamie Soutar was selling his pig at the
+      time, and missed the meeting, but he hastened to condole with Milton, who
+      was complaining everywhere of the doctor's language.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link041" id="link041"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/041.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="041.jpg (72K)" src="images/041.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye did richt tae resist him; it 'ill maybe roose the Glen tae mak a
+      stand; he fair hands them in bondage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thirty shillings for twal veesits, and him no mair than seeven mile awa,
+      an' a'm telt there werena mair than four at nicht.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye 'ill hae the sympathy o' the Glen, for a' body kens yir as free wi'
+      yir siller as yir tracts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A've often thocht oor doctor's little better than the Gude Samaritan, an'
+      the Pharisees didna think muckle o' his chance aither in this warld or
+      that which is tae come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link044" id="link044"></a> <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      THROUGH THE FLOOD.
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a href="images/044.png">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="044.jpg (67K)" src="images/044.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Doctor MacLure did not lead a solemn procession from the sick bed to the
+      dining-room, and give his opinion from the hearthrug with an air of wisdom
+      bordering on the supernatural, because neither the Drumtochty houses nor
+      his manners were on that large scale. He was accustomed to deliver himself
+      in the yard, and to conclude his directions with one foot in the stirrup;
+      but when he left the room where the life of Annie Mitchell was ebbing
+      slowly away, our doctor said not one word, and at the sight of his face
+      her husband's heart was troubled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was a dull man, Tammas, who could not read the meaning of a sign, and
+      labored under a perpetual disability of speech; but love was eyes to him
+      that day, and a mouth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is't as bad as yir lookin', doctor? tell's the truth; wull Annie no come
+      through?&rdquo; and Tammas looked MacLure straight in the face, who never
+      flinched his duty or said smooth things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' wud gie onything tae say Annie hes a chance, but a' daurna; a' doot
+      yir gaein' tae lose her, Tammas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      MacLure was in the saddle, and as he gave his judgment, he laid his hand
+      on Tammas's shoulder with one of the rare caresses that pass between men.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link046" id="link046"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/046.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="046.jpg (79K)" src="images/046.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a sair business, but ye 'ill play the man and no vex Annie; she 'ill
+      dae her best, a'll warrant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' a'll dae mine,&rdquo; and Tammas gave MacLure's hand a grip that would have
+      crushed the bones of a weakling. Drumtochty felt in such moments the
+      brotherliness of this rough-looking man, and loved him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Tammas hid his face in Jess's mane, who looked round with sorrow in her
+      beautiful eyes, for she had seen many tragedies, and in this silent
+      sympathy the stricken man drank his cup, drop by drop.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' wesna prepared for this, for a' aye thocht she wud live the
+      langest.... She's younger than me by ten years, and never wes ill....
+      We've been mairit twal year laist Martinmas, but it's juist like a year
+      the day... A' wes never worthy o' her, the bonniest, snoddest (neatest),
+      kindliest lass in the Glen.... A' never cud mak oot hoo she ever lookit at
+      me, 'at hesna hed ae word tae say aboot her till it's ower late.... She
+      didna cuist up tae me that a' wesna worthy o' her, no her, but aye she
+      said, 'Yir ma ain gudeman, and nane cud be kinder tae me.' ... An' a' wes
+      minded tae be kind, but a' see noo mony little trokes a' micht hae dune
+      for her, and noo the time is bye.... Naebody kens hoo patient she wes wi'
+      me, and aye made the best o 'me, an' never pit me tae shame afore the
+      fouk.... An' we never hed ae cross word, no ane in twal year.... We were
+      mair nor man and wife, we were sweethearts a' the time.... Oh, ma bonnie
+      lass, what 'ill the bairnies an' me dae withoot ye, Annie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link049" id="link049"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/049.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="049.jpg (90K)" src="images/049.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The winter night was falling fast, the snow lay deep upon the ground, and
+      the merciless north wind moaned through the close as Tammas wrestled with
+      his sorrow dry-eyed, for tears were denied Drumtochty men. Neither the
+      doctor nor Jess moved hand or foot, but their hearts were with their
+      fellow creature, and at length the doctor made a sign to Marget Howe, who
+      had come out in search of Tammas, and now stood by his side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link050" id="link050"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/050.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="050.jpg (36K)" src="images/050.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dinna mourn tae the brakin' o' yir hert, Tammas,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;as if Annie
+      an' you hed never luved. Neither death nor time can pairt them that luve;
+      there's naethin' in a' the warld sae strong as luve. If Annie gaes frae
+      the 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 her nicht 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 in Drumtochty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link051" id="link051"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/051.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="051.jpg (41K)" src="images/051.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank ye kindly, Marget; thae are gude words and true, an' ye hev the
+      richt tae say them; but a' canna dae without seem' Annie comin' tae meet
+      me 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 nae
+      Annie in the hoose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can naethin' be dune, doctor? Ye savit Flora Cammil, and young Burnbrae,
+      an' yon shepherd's wife Dunleith wy, an' we were a sae prood o' ye, an'
+      pleased tae think that ye hed keepit deith frae anither hame. Can ye no
+      think o' somethin' tae help Annie, and gie her back tae her man and
+      bairnies?&rdquo; and Tammas searched the doctor's face in the cold, weird light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's nae pooer on heaven or airth like luve,&rdquo; Marget said to me
+      afterwards; &ldquo;it maks the weak strong and the dumb tae speak. Oor herts
+      were as water afore Tammas's words, an' a' saw the doctor shake in his
+      saddle. A' never kent till that meenut hoo he hed a share in a'body's
+      grief, an' carried the heaviest wecht o' a' the Glen. A' peetied him wi'
+      Tammas lookin' at him sae wistfully, as if he hed the keys o' life an'
+      deith in his hands. But he wes honest, and wudna hold oot a false houp tae
+      deceive a sore hert or win escape for himsel'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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 the warld,
+      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 an orphan, an'
+      nae man wes better pleased when she got a gude husband, and a' helpit her
+      wi' her fower bairns. A've naither wife nor bairns o' ma own, an' a' coont
+      a' the fouk o' the Glen ma family. Div ye think a' wudna save Annie if I
+      cud? If there wes a man in Muirtown 'at cud dae mair for her, a'd have him
+      this verra nicht, but a' the doctors in Perthshire are helpless for this
+      tribble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tammas, ma puir fallow, if it could avail, a' tell ye a' wud lay doon
+      this auld worn-oot ruckle o' a body o' mine juist tae see ye baith sittin'
+      at the fireside, an' the bairns roond ye, couthy an' canty again; but it's
+      no tae be, Tammas, it's no tae be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When a' lookit at the doctor's face,&rdquo; Marget said, &ldquo;a' thocht him the
+      winsomest man a' ever saw. He was transfigured that nicht, for a'm judging
+      there's nae transfiguration like luve.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's God's wull an' maun be borne, but it's a sair wull for me, an' a'm
+      no ungratefu' tae you, doctor, for a' ye've dune and what ye said the
+      nicht,&rdquo; and Tammas went back to sit with Annie for the last time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jess picked her way through the deep snow to the main road, with a skill
+      that came of long experience, and the doctor held converse with her
+      according to his wont.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh, Jess wumman, yon wes the hardest wark a' hae tae face, and a' wud
+      raither hae ta'en ma chance o' anither row in a Glen Urtach drift than
+      tell Tammas Mitchell his wife wes deein'.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' said she cudna be cured, and it wes true, for there's juist ae man in
+      the land fit for't, and they micht as weel try tae get the mune oot o'
+      heaven. Sae a' said naethin' tae vex Tammas's hert, for it's heavy eneuch
+      withoot regrets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it's hard, Jess, that money wull buy life after a', an' if Annie wes
+      a duchess her man wudna lose her; but bein' only a puir cottar's wife, she
+      maun dee afore the week's oot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gin we hed him the morn there's little doot she would be saved, for he
+      hesna lost mair than five per cent, o' his cases, and they 'ill be puir
+      toon's craturs, no strappin women like Annie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link056" id="link056"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/056.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="056.jpg (79K)" src="images/056.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's oot o' the question, Jess, sae hurry up, lass, for we've hed a heavy
+      day. But it wud be the grandest thing that was ever dune in the Glen in
+      oor time if it could be managed by hook or crook.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We 'ill gang and see Drumsheugh, Jess; he's anither man sin' Geordie
+      Hoo's deith, and he wes aye kinder than fouk kent;&rdquo; and the doctor passed
+      at a gallop through the village, whose lights shone across the white
+      frost-bound road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come in by, doctor; a' heard ye on the road; ye 'ill hae been at Tammas
+      Mitchell's; hoo's the gudewife? a' doot she's sober.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Annie's deein', Drumsheugh, an' Tammas is like tae brak his hert.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's no lichtsome, doctor, no lichtsome ava, for a' dinna ken ony man
+      in Drumtochty sae bund up in his wife as Tammas, and there's no a bonnier
+      wumman o' her age crosses our kirk door than Annie, nor a cleverer at her
+      wark. Man, ye 'ill need tae pit yir brains in steep. Is she clean beyond
+      ye?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Beyond me and every ither in the land but ane, and it wud cost a hundred
+      guineas tae bring him tae Drumtochty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link058" id="link058"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/058.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="058.jpg (59K)" src="images/058.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certes, he's no blate; it's a fell chairge for a short day's work; but
+      hundred or no hundred we'll hae him, an' no let Annie gang, and her no
+      half her years.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are ye meanin' it, Drumsheugh?&rdquo; and MacLure turned white below the tan.
+      &ldquo;William MacLure,&rdquo; said Drumsheugh, in one of the few confidences that
+      ever broke the Drumtochty reserve, &ldquo;a'm a lonely man, wi' naebody o' ma
+      ain blude tae care for me livin', or tae lift me intae ma coffin when a'm
+      deid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' fecht awa at Muirtown market for an extra pound on a beast, or a
+      shillin' on the quarter o' barley, an' what's the gude o't? Burnbrae gaes
+      aff tae get a goon for his wife or a buke for his college laddie, an'
+      Lachlan Campbell 'ill no leave the place noo without a ribbon for Flora.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ilka man in the Klldrummie train has some bit fairin' his pooch for the
+      fouk at hame that he's bocht wi' the siller he won.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But there's naebody tae be lookin' oot for me, an' comin' doon the road
+      tae meet me, and daffin' (joking) wi' me about their fairing, or feeling
+      ma pockets. Ou ay, a've seen it a' at ither hooses, though they tried tae
+      hide it frae me for fear a' wud lauch at them. Me lauch, wi' ma cauld,
+      empty hame!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yir the only man kens, Weelum, that I aince luved the noblest wumman in
+      the glen or onywhere, an' a' luve her still, but wi' anither luve noo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She had given her heart tae anither, or a've thocht a' micht hae won her,
+      though nae man be worthy o' sic a gift. Ma hert turned tae bitterness, but
+      that passed awa beside the brier bush whar George Hoo lay yon sad simmer
+      time. Some day a'll tell ye ma story, Weelum, for you an' me are auld
+      freends, and will be till we dee.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      MacLure felt beneath the table for Drumsheugh's hand, but neither man
+      looked at the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Weel, a' we can dae noo, Weelum, gin we haena mickle brichtness in oor
+      ain names, is tae keep the licht frae gaein' oot in anither hoose. Write
+      the telegram, man, and Sandy 'ill send it aff frae Kildrummie this verra
+      nicht, and ye 'ill hae yir man the morn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yir the man a' coonted ye, Drumsheugh, but ye 'ill grant me ae favor. Ye
+      'ill lat me pay the half, bit by bit&mdash;a' ken yir wullin' tae dae't a'&mdash;but
+      a' haena mony pleasures, an' a' wud like tae hae ma ain share in savin'
+      Annie's life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link061" id="link061"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/061.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="061.jpg (84K)" src="images/061.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next morning a figure received Sir George on the Kildrummie platform, whom
+      that famous surgeon took for a gillie, but who introduced himself as
+      &ldquo;MacLure of Drumtochty.&rdquo; It seemed as if the East had come to meet the
+      West when these two stood together, the one in travelling furs, handsome
+      and distinguished, with his strong, cultured face and carriage of
+      authority, a characteristic type of his profession; and the other more
+      marvellously dressed than ever, for Drumsheugh's topcoat had been forced
+      upon him for the occasion, his face and neck one redness with the bitter
+      cold; rough and ungainly, yet not without some signs of power in his eye
+      and voice, the most heroic type of his noble profession. MacLure compassed
+      the precious arrival with observances till he was securely seated in
+      Drumsheugh's dog cart&mdash;a vehicle that lent itself to history&mdash;with
+      two full-sized plaids added to his equipment&mdash;Drumsheugh and Hillocks
+      had both been requisitioned&mdash;and MacLure wrapped another plaid round
+      a leather case, which was placed below the seat with such reverence as
+      might be given to the Queen's regalia. Peter attended their departure full
+      of interest, and as soon as they were in the fir woods MacLure explained
+      that it would be an eventful journey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a richt in here, for the wind disna get at the snaw, but the drifts
+      are deep in the Glen, and th'ill be some engineerin' afore we get tae oor
+      destination.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Four times they left the road and took their way over fields, twice they
+      forced a passage through a slap in a dyke, thrice they used gaps in the
+      paling which MacLure had made on his downward journey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link064" id="link064"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/064.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="064.jpg (58K)" src="images/064.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye see the bridge hes been shaken wi' this winter's flood, and we daurna
+      venture on it, sae we hev tae ford, and the snaw's been melting up Urtach
+      way. There's nae doot the water's gey big, and it's threatenin' tae rise,
+      but we 'ill win through wi' a warstle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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 in yir
+      seat in case we come on a stane in the bed o' the river.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      By this time they had come to the edge, and it was not a cheering sight.
+      The Tochty had spread out over the meadows, and while they waited they
+      could see it cover another two inches on the trunk of a tree. There are
+      summer floods, when the water is brown and flecked with foam, but this was
+      a winter flood, which is black and sullen, and runs in the centre with a
+      strong, fierce, silent current. Upon the opposite side Hillocks stood to
+      give directions by word and hand, as the ford was on his land, and none
+      knew the Tochty better in all its ways.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link066" id="link066"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/066.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="066.jpg (159K)" src="images/066.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They passed through the shallow water without mishap, save when the wheel
+      struck a hidden stone or fell suddenly into a rut; but when they neared
+      the body of the river MacLure halted, to give Jess a minute's breathing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It 'ill tak ye a' yir time, lass, an' a' wud raither be on yir back; but
+      ye never failed me yet, and a wumman's life is hangin' on the crossin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With the first plunge into the bed of the stream the water rose to the
+      axles, and then it crept up to the shafts, so that the surgeon could feel
+      it lapping in about his feet, while the dogcart began to quiver, and it
+      seemed as if it were to be carried away. Sir George was as brave as most
+      men, but he had never forded a Highland river in flood, and the mass of
+      black water racing past beneath, before, behind him, affected his
+      imagination and shook his nerves. He rose from his seat and ordered
+      MacLure to turn back, declaring that he would be condemned utterly and
+      eternally if he allowed himself to be drowned for any person.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit doon,&rdquo; thundered MacLure; &ldquo;condemned ye will be suner or later gin ye
+      shirk yir duty, but through the water ye gang the day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Both men spoke much more strongly and shortly, but this is what they
+      intended to say, and it was MacLure that prevailed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jess trailed her feet along the ground with cunning art, and held her
+      shoulder against the stream; MacLure leant forward in his seat, a rein in
+      each hand, and his eyes fixed on Hillocks, who was now standing up to the
+      waist in the water, shouting directions and cheering on horse and driver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Haud tae the richt, doctor; there's a hole yonder. Keep oot o't for ony
+      sake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link069" id="link069"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/069.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="069.jpg (87K)" src="images/069.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That's heap of speechless misery by the kitchen fire, and carried him off
+      to the barn, and spread some corn on the threshing floor and thrust a
+      flail into his hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Noo we've tae begin, an' we 'ill no be dune for an' oor, and ye've tae
+      lay on withoot stoppin' till a' come for ye, an' a'll shut the door tae
+      haud in the noise, an' keep yir dog beside ye, for there maunna be a cheep
+      aboot the hoose for Annie's sake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A'll dae onything ye want me, but if&mdash;if&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A'll come for ye, Tammas, gin there be danger; but what are ye feared for
+      wi' the Queen's ain surgeon here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fifty minutes did the flail rise and fall, save twice, when Tammas crept
+      to the door and listened, the dog lifting his head and whining.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed twelve hours instead of one when the door swung back, and
+      MacLure filled the doorway, preceded by a great burst of light, for the
+      sun had arisen on the snow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link071" id="link071"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/071.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="071.jpg (100K)" src="images/071.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His face was as tidings of great joy, and Elspeth told me that there was
+      nothing like it to be seen that afternoon for glory, save the sun itself
+      in the heavens.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' never saw the marrow o't, Tammas, an' a'll never see the like again;
+      it's a' ower, man, withoot a hitch frae beginnin' tae end, and she's
+      fa'in' asleep as fine as ye like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dis he think Annie ... 'ill live?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of coorse he dis, and be aboot the hoose inside a month; that's the gud
+      o' bein' a clean-bluided, weel-livin'&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Preserve ye, man, what's wrang wi' ye? it's a mercy a' keppit ye, or we
+      wud hev hed anither job for Sir George.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo; Marget
+      took him in and let him kneel by Annie's bedside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He said nothing then or afterwards, for speech came only once in his
+      lifetime to Tammas, but Annie whispered, &ldquo;Ma ain dear man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the doctor placed the precious bag beside Sir George in our solitary
+      first next morning, he laid a cheque beside it and was about to leave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; said the great man. &ldquo;Mrs. Macfayden and I were on the gossip
+      last night, and I know the whole story about you and your friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have some right to call me a coward, but I'll never let you count me
+      a mean, miserly rascal,&rdquo; and the cheque with Drumsheugh's painful writing
+      fell in fifty pieces on the floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link074" id="link074"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/074.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="074.jpg (107K)" src="images/074.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the train began to move, a voice from the first called so that all the
+      station heard. &ldquo;Give's another shake of your hand, MacLure; I'm proud to
+      have met you; you are an honor to our profession. Mind the antiseptic
+      dressings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was market day, but only Jamie Soutar and Hillocks had ventured down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did ye hear yon, Hillocks? hoo dae ye feel? A'll no deny a'm lifted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Halfway to the Junction Hillocks had recovered, and began to grasp the
+      situation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell's what he said. A' wud like to hae it exact for Drumsheugh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thae's the eedentical words, an' they're true; there's no a man in
+      Drumtochty disna ken that, except ane.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' wha's thar, Jamie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's Weelum MacLure himsel. Man, a've often girned that he sud fecht awa
+      for us a', and maybe dee before he kent that he hed githered mair luve
+      than ony man in the Glen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'A'm prood tae hae met ye', says Sir George, an' him the greatest doctor
+      in the land. 'Yir an honor tae oor profession.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hillocks, a' wudna hae missed it for twenty notes,&rdquo; said James Soutar,
+      cynic-in-ordinary to the parish of Drumtochty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> <a name="linkIII" id="linkIII"></a> <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      A FIGHT WITH DEATH.
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link078" id="link078"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/078.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="078.jpg (67K)" src="images/078.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Drumsheugh's grieve was brought to the gates of death by fever,
+      caught, as was supposed, on an adventurous visit to Glasgow, the London
+      doctor at Lord Kilspindie's shooting lodge looked in on his way from the
+      moor, and declared it impossible for Saunders to live through the night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I give him six hours, more or less; it is only a question of time,&rdquo; said
+      the oracle, buttoning his gloves and getting into the brake; &ldquo;tell your
+      parish doctor that I was sorry not to have met him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Bell heard this verdict from behind the door, and gave way utterly, but
+      Drumsheugh declined to accept it as final, and devoted himself to
+      consolation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dinna greet like that, Bell wumman, sae lang as Saunders is still
+      living'; a'll never give up houp, for ma pairt, till oor ain man says the
+      word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' the doctors in the land dinna ken as muckle aboot us as Weelum
+      MacLure, an' he's ill tae beat when he's trying tae save a man's life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      MacLure, on his coming, would say nothing, either weal or woe, till he had
+      examined Saunders. Suddenly his face turned into iron before their eyes,
+      and he looked like one encountering a merciless foe. For there was a feud
+      between MacLure and a certain mighty power which had lasted for forty
+      years in Drumtochty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link080" id="link080"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/080.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="080.jpg (86K)" src="images/080.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The London doctor said that Saunders wud sough awa afore mornin', did he?
+      Weel, he's an authority on fevers an' sic like diseases, an' ought tae
+      ken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's may be presumptous o' me tae differ frae him, and it wudna be verra
+      respectfu' o' Saunders tae live aifter this opeenion. But Saunders wes awe
+      thraun an' ill tae drive, an' he's as like as no tae gang his own gait.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A'm no meanin' tae reflect on sae clever a man, but he didna ken the
+      seetuation. He can read fevers like a buik, but he never cam across sic a
+      thing as the Drumtochty constitution a' his days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye see, when onybody gets as low as puir Saunders here, it's juist a hand
+      to hand wrastle atween the fever and his constitution, an' of coorse, if
+      he had been a shilpit, stuntit, feckless effeegy o' a cratur, fed on tea
+      an' made dishes and pushioned wi' bad air, Saunders wud hae nae chance; he
+      wes boond tae gae oot like the snuff o' a candle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link082" id="link082"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/082.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="082.jpg (76K)" src="images/082.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But Saunders hes been fillin' his lungs for five and thirty year wi'
+      strong Drumtochty air, an' eatin' naethin' but kirny aitmeal, and drinkin'
+      naethin' but fresh milk frae the coo, an' followin' the ploo through the
+      new-turned sweet-smellin' earth, an' swingin' the scythe in haytime and
+      harvest, till the legs an' airms o' him were iron, an' his chest wes like
+      the cuttin' o' an oak tree.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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 hesna sinned
+      against Nature, and Nature 'ill stand by him noo in his oor o' distress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' daurna say yea, Bell, muckle as a' wud like, for this is an evil
+      disease, cunnin, an' treacherous as the deevil himsel', but a' winna say
+      nay, sae keep yir hert frae despair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It wull be a sair fecht, but it 'ill be settled one wy or anither by sax
+      o'clock the morn's morn. Nae man can prophecee hoo it 'ill end, but ae
+      thing is certain, a'll no see deith tak a Drumtochty man afore his time if
+      a' can help it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Noo, Bell ma wumman, yir near deid wi' tire, an' nae wonder. Ye've dune
+      a' ye cud for yir man, an' ye'll lippen (trust) him the nicht tae
+      Drumsheugh an' me; we 'ill no fail him or you.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lie doon an' rest, an' if it be the wull o' the Almichty a'll wauken ye
+      in the mornin' tae see a livin' conscious man, an' if it be ither-wise
+      a'll come for ye the suner, Bell,&rdquo; and the big red hand went out to the
+      anxious wife. &ldquo;A' gie ye ma word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Bell leant over the bed, and at the sight of Saunders' face a
+      superstitious dread seized her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See, doctor, the shadow of deith is on him that never lifts. A've seen it
+      afore, on ma father an' mither. A' canna leave him, a' canna leave him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link085" id="link085"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/085.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="085.jpg (100K)" src="images/085.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The doctors in the toons hae nurses an' a' kinds o' handy apparatus,&rdquo;
+       said MacLure to Drumsheugh when Bell had gone, &ldquo;but you an' me 'ill need
+      tae be nurse the nicht, an' use sic things as we hev.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It 'ill be a lang nicht and anxious wark, but a' wud raither hae ye, auld
+      freend, wi' me than ony man in the Glen. Ye're no feared tae gie a hand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me feared? No, likely. Man, Saunders cam tae me a haflin, and hes been on
+      Drumsheugh for twenty years, an' though he be a dour chiel, he's a
+      faithfu' servant as ever lived. It's waesome tae see him lyin' there
+      moanin' like some dumb animal frae mornin' tae nicht, an' no able tae
+      answer his ain wife when she speaks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Div ye think, Weelum, he hes a chance?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That he hes, at ony rate, and it 'ill no be your blame or mine if he
+      hesna mair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While he was speaking, MacLure took off his coat and waistcoat and hung
+      them on the back of the door. Then he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt
+      and laid bare two arms that were nothing but bone and muscle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It gar'd ma very blood rin faster tae the end of ma fingers juist tae
+      look at him,&rdquo; Drumsheugh expatiated afterwards to Hillocks, &ldquo;for a' saw
+      noo that there was tae be a stand-up fecht atween him an' deith for
+      Saunders, and when a' thocht o' Bell an' her bairns, a' kent wha wud win.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Aff wi' yir coat, Drumsheugh,' said MacLure; 'ye 'ill need tae bend yir
+      back the nicht; gither a' the pails in the hoose and fill them at the
+      spring, an' a'll come doon tae help ye wi' the carryin'.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a wonderful ascent up the steep pathway from the spring to the
+      cottage on its little knoll, the two men in single file, bareheaded,
+      silent, solemn, each with a pail of water in either hand, MacLure limping
+      painfully in front, Drumsheugh blowing behind; and when they laid down
+      their burden in the sick room, where the bits of furniture had been put to
+      a side and a large tub held the centre, Drumsheugh looked curiously at the
+      doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link088" id="link088"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/088.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="088.jpg (70K)" src="images/088.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, a'm no daft; ye needna be feared; but yir tae get yir first lesson in
+      medicine the nicht, an' if we win the battle ye can set up for yersel in
+      the Glen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's twa dangers&mdash;that Saunders' strength fails, an' that the
+      force o' the fever grows; and we have juist twa weapons.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yon milk on the drawers' head an' the bottle of whisky is tae keep up the
+      strength, and this cool caller water is tae keep doon the fever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We 'ill cast oot the fever by the virtue o' the earth an' the water.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Div ye mean tae pit Saunders in the tub?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye hiv it noo, Drumsheugh, and that's hoo a' need yir help.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Man, Hillocks,&rdquo; Drumsheugh used to moralize, as often as he remembered
+      that critical night, &ldquo;it wes humblin' tae see hoo low sickness can bring a
+      pooerfu' man, an' ocht tae keep us frae pride.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hillocks, a' wudna hae wished ony man tae hev seen Saunders&mdash;for it
+      wull never pass frae before ma een as long as a' live&mdash;but a' wish a'
+      the Glen hed stude by MacLure kneelin' on the floor wi' his sleeves up tae
+      his oxters and waitin' on Saunders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yon big man wes as pitifu' an' gentle as a wumman, and when he laid the
+      puir fallow in his bed again, he happit him ower as a mither dis her
+      bairn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thrice it was done, Drumsheugh ever bringing up colder water from the
+      spring, and twice MacLure was silent; but after the third time there was a
+      gleam in his eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We're haudin' oor ain; we're no bein' maistered, at ony rate; mair a'
+      canna say for three oors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We 'ill no need the water again, Drumsheugh; gae oot and tak a breath o'
+      air; a'm on gaird masel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the hour before daybreak, and Drumsheugh wandered through fields he
+      had trodden since childhood. The cattle lay sleeping in the pastures;
+      their shadowy forms, with a patch of whiteness here and there, having a
+      weird suggestion of death. He heard the burn running over the stones;
+      fifty years ago he had made a dam that lasted till winter. The hooting of
+      an owl made him start; one had frightened him as a boy so that he ran home
+      to his mother&mdash;she died thirty years ago. The smell of ripe corn
+      filled the air; it would soon be cut and garnered. He could see the dim
+      outlines of his house, all dark and cold; no one he loved was beneath the
+      roof. The lighted window in Saunders' cottage told where a man hung
+      between life and death, but love was in that home. The futility of life
+      arose before this lonely man, and overcame his heart with an indescribable
+      sadness. What a vanity was all human labour, what a mystery all human
+      life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link091" id="link091"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/091.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="091.jpg (50K)" src="images/091.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But while he stood, subtle change came over the night, and the air
+      trembled round him as if one had whispered. Drumsheugh lifted his head and
+      looked eastwards. A faint grey stole over the distant horizon, and
+      suddenly a cloud reddened before his eyes. The sun was not in sight, but
+      was rising, and sending forerunners before his face. The cattle began to
+      stir, a blackbird burst into song, and before Drumsheugh crossed the
+      threshold of Saunders' house, the first ray of the sun had broken on a
+      peak of the Grampians.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      MacLure left the bedside, and as the light of the candle fell on the
+      doctor's face, Drumsheugh could see that it was going well with Saunders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's nae waur; an' it's half six noo; it's ower sune tae say mair, but
+      a'm houpin' for the best. Sit doon and take a sleep, for ye're needin' 't,
+      Drumsheugh, an', man, ye hae worked for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he dozed off, the last thing Drumsheugh saw was the doctor sitting
+      erect in his chair, a clenched fist resting on the bed, and his eyes
+      already bright with the vision of victory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He awoke with a start to find the room flooded with the morning sunshine,
+      and every trace of last night's work removed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor was bending over the bed, and speaking to Saunders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's me, Saunders, Doctor MacLure, ye ken; dinna try tae speak or move;
+      juist let this drap milk slip ower&mdash;ye 'ill be needin' yir breakfast,
+      lad&mdash;and gang tae sleep again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link094" id="link094"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/094.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="094.jpg (96K)" src="images/094.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Five minutes, and Saunders had fallen into a deep, healthy sleep, all
+      tossing and moaning come to an end. Then MacLure stepped softly across the
+      floor, picked up his coat and waistcoat, and went out at the door.
+      Drumsheugh arose and followed him without a word. They passed through the
+      little garden, sparkling with dew, and beside the byre, where Hawkie
+      rattled her chain, impatient for Bell's coming, and by Saunders' little
+      strip of corn ready for the scythe, till they reached an open field. There
+      they came to a halt, and Doctor MacLure for once allowed himself to go.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His coat he flung east and his waistcoat west, as far as he could hurl
+      them, and it was plain he would have shouted had he been a complete mile
+      from Saunders' room. Any less distance was useless for the adequate
+      expression. He struck Drumsheugh a mighty blow that well-nigh levelled
+      that substantial man in the dust and then the doctor of Drumtochty issued
+      his bulletin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Saunders wesna tae live through the nicht, but he's livin' this meenut,
+      an' like to live.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's got by the warst clean and fair, and wi' him that's as good as cure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It' ill be a graund waukenin' for Bell; she 'ill no be a weedow yet, nor
+      the bairnies fatherless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's nae use glowerin' at me, Drumsheugh, for a body's daft at a time,
+      an' a' canna contain masel' and a'm no gaein' tae try.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then it dawned on Drumsheugh that the doctor was attempting the Highland
+      fling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's 'ill made tae begin wi',&rdquo; Drumsheugh explained in the kirkyard next
+      Sabbath, &ldquo;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' the Hielan flings
+      a' ever saw yon wes the bonniest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' hevna shaken ma ain legs for thirty years, but a' confess tae a turn
+      masel. Ye may lauch an' ye like, neeburs, but the thocht o' Bell an' the
+      news that wes waitin' her got the better o' me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link097" id="link097"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/097.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="097.jpg (57K)" src="images/097.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumtochty did not laugh. Drumtochty looked as if it could have done quite
+      otherwise for joy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' wud hae made a third gin a hed been there,&rdquo; announced Hillocks,
+      aggressively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link098" id="link098"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/098.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="098.jpg (37K)" src="images/098.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come on, Drumsheugh,&rdquo; said Jamie Soutar, &ldquo;gie's the end o't; it wes a
+      michty mornin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'We're twa auld fules,' says MacLure tae me, and he gaithers up his
+      claithes. 'It wud set us better tae be tellin' Bell.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She wes sleepin' on the top o' her bed wrapped in a plaid, fair worn oot
+      wi' three weeks' nursin' o' Saunders, but at the first touch she was oot
+      upon the floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Is Saunders deein', doctor?' she cries. 'Ye promised tae wauken me;
+      dinna tell me it's a' ower.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'There's nae deein' aboot him, Bell; ye're no tae lose yir man this time,
+      sae far as a' can see. Come ben an' jidge for yersel'.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bell lookit at Saunders, and the tears of joy fell on the bed like rain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'The shadow's lifted,' she said; 'he's come back frae the mooth o' the
+      tomb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'A' prayed last nicht that the Lord wud leave Saunders till the laddies
+      cud dae for themselves, an' thae words came intae ma mind, 'Weepin' may
+      endure for a nicht, but joy cometh in the mornin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'The Lord heard ma prayer, and joy hes come in the mornin',' an' she
+      gripped the doctor's hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link100" id="link100"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/100.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="100.jpg (63K)" src="images/100.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Ye've been the instrument, Doctor MacLure. Ye wudna gie him up, and ye
+      did what nae ither cud for him, an' a've ma man the day, and the bairns
+      hae their father.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' afore MacLure kent what she was daein', Bell lifted his hand to her
+      lips an' kissed it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did she, though?&rdquo; cried Jamie. &ldquo;Wha wud hae thocht there wes as muckle
+      spunk in Bell?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;MacLure, of coorse, was clean scandalized,&rdquo; continued Drumsheugh, &ldquo;an'
+      pooed awa his hand as if it hed been burned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nae man can thole that kind o' fraikin', and a' never heard o' sic a
+      thing in the parish, but we maun excuse Bell, neeburs; it wes an occasion
+      by ordinar,&rdquo; and Drumsheugh made Bell's apology to Drumtochty for such an
+      excess of feeling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' see naethin' tae excuse,&rdquo; insisted Jamie, who was in great fettle that
+      Sabbath; &ldquo;the doctor hes never been burdened wi' fees, and a'm judgin' he
+      coonted a wumman's gratitude that he saved frae weedowhood the best he
+      ever got.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link102" id="link102"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/102.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="102.jpg (90K)" src="images/102.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' gaed up tae the Manse last nicht,&rdquo; concluded Drumsheugh, &ldquo;and telt the
+      minister hoo the doctor focht aucht oors for Saunders' life, an' won, and
+      ye never saw a man sae carried. He walkit up and doon the room a' the
+      time, and every other meenut he blew his nose like a trumpet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'I've a cold in my head to-night, Drumsheugh,' says he; 'never mind me.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A've hed the same masel in sic circumstances; they come on sudden,&rdquo; said
+      Jamie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' wager there 'ill be a new bit in the laist prayer the day, an'
+      somethin' worth hearin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the fathers went into kirk in great expectation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We beseech Thee for such as be sick, that Thy hand may be on them for
+      good, and that Thou wouldst restore them again to health and strength,&rdquo;
+       was the familiar petition of every Sabbath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The congregation waited in a silence that might be heard, and were not
+      disappointed that morning, for the minister continued:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Especially we tender Thee hearty thanks that Thou didst spare Thy servant
+      who was brought down into the dust of death, and hast given him back to
+      his wife and children, and unto that end didst wonderfully bless the skill
+      of him who goes out and in amongst us, the beloved physician of this
+      parish and adjacent districts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didna a' tell ye, neeburs?&rdquo; said Jamie, as they stood at the kirkyard
+      gate before dispersing; &ldquo;there's no a man in the coonty cud hae dune it
+      better. 'Beloved physician,' an' his 'skill,' tae, an' bringing in
+      'adjacent districts'; that's Glen Urtach; it wes handsome, and the doctor
+      earned it, ay, every word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's an awfu' peety he didna hear you; but dear knows whar he is the day,
+      maist likely up&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jamie stopped suddenly at the sound of a horse's feet, and there, coming
+      down the avenue of beech trees that made a long vista from the kirk gate,
+      they saw the doctor and Jess.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One thought flashed through the minds of the fathers of the commonwealth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It ought to be done as he passed, and it would be done if it were not
+      Sabbath. Of course it was out of the question on Sabbath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor is now distinctly visible, riding after his fashion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was never such a chance, if it were only Saturday; and each man
+      reads his own regret in his neighbor's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor is nearing them rapidly; they can imagine the shepherd's
+      tartan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sabbath or no Sabbath, the Glen cannot let him pass without some tribute
+      of their pride.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jess had recognized friends, and the doctor is drawing rein.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It hes tae be dune,&rdquo; said Jamie desperately, &ldquo;say what ye like.&rdquo; Then
+      they all looked towards him, and Jamie led.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link106" id="link106"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/106.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="106.jpg (71K)" src="images/106.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hurrah,&rdquo; swinging his Sabbath hat in the air, &ldquo;hurrah,&rdquo; and once more,
+      &ldquo;hurrah,&rdquo; Whinnie Knowe, Drumsheugh, and Hillocks joining lustily, but
+      Tammas Mitchell carrying all before him, for he had found at last an
+      expression for his feelings that rendered speech unnecessary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a solitary experience for horse and rider, and Jess bolted without
+      delay. But the sound followed and surrounded them, and as they passed the
+      corner of the kirkyard, a figure waved his college cap over the wall and
+      gave a cheer on his own account.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;God bless you, doctor, and well done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If it isna the minister,&rdquo; cried Drumsheugh, &ldquo;in his goon an' bans, tae
+      think o' that; but a' respeck him for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Drumtochty became self-conscious, and went home in confusion of face
+      and unbroken silence, except Jamie Soutar, who faced his neighbors at the
+      parting of the ways without shame.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' wud dae it a' ower again if a' hed the chance; he got naethin' but his
+      due.&rdquo; It was two miles before Jess composed her mind, and the doctor and
+      she could discuss it quietly together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' can hardly believe ma ears, Jess, an' the Sabbath tae; their verra
+      jidgment hes gane frae the fouk o' Drumtochty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They've heard about Saunders, a'm thinkin', wumman, and they're pleased
+      we brocht him roond; he's fairly on the mend, ye ken, noo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' never expeckit the like o' this, though, and it wes juist a wee
+      thingie mair than a' cud hae stude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye hev yir share in't tae, lass; we've hed mony a hard nicht and day
+      thegither, an' yon wes oor reward. No mony men in this warld 'ill ever get
+      a better, for it cam frae the hert o' honest fouk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="linkIV" id="linkIV"></a> <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY.
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /> <a name="link110" id="link110"></a> <br /><br /> <a
+      href="images/110.png">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="110.jpg (68K)" src="images/110.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumtochty had a vivid recollection of the winter when Dr. MacLure was
+      laid up for two months with a broken leg, and the Glen was dependent on
+      the dubious ministrations of the Kildrummie doctor. Mrs. Macfayden also
+      pretended to recall a &ldquo;whup&rdquo; of some kind or other he had in the fifties,
+      but this was considered to be rather a pyrotechnic display of Elspeth's
+      superior memory than a serious statement of fact. MacLure could not have
+      ridden through the snow of forty winters without suffering, yet no one
+      ever heard him complain, and he never pled illness to any messenger by
+      night or day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It took me,&rdquo; said Jamie Soutar to Milton afterwards, &ldquo;the feck o' ten
+      meenuts tae howk him 'an' Jess oot ae snawy nicht when Drums turned bad
+      sudden, and if he didna try to excuse himself for no hearing me at aince
+      wi' some story aboot juist comin' in frae Glen Urtach, and no bein' in his
+      bed for the laist twa nichts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He wes that carefu' o' himsel an' lazy that if it hedna been for the
+      siller, a've often thocht, Milton, he wud never hae dune a handstroke o'
+      wark in the Glen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What scunnered me wes the wy the bairns were ta'en in wi' him. Man, a've
+      seen him tak a wee laddie on his knee that his ain mither cudna quiet, an'
+      lilt 'Sing a song o' saxpence' till the bit mannie would be lauchin' like
+      a gude are, an' pooin' the doctor's beard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link112" id="link112"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/112.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="112.jpg (57K)" src="images/112.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As for the weemen, he fair cuist a glamour ower them; they're daein'
+      naethin' noo but speak aboot this body and the ither he cured, an' hoo he
+      aye hed a couthy word for sick fouk. Weemen hae nae discernment, Milton;
+      tae hear them speak ye wud think MacLure hed been a releegious man like
+      yersel, although, as ye said, he wes little mair than a Gallio.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bell Baxter was haverin' awa in the shop tae sic an extent aboot the wy
+      MacLure brocht roond Saunders when he hed the fever that a' gied oot at
+      the door, a' wes that disgusted, an' a'm telt when Tammas Mitchell heard
+      the news in the smiddy he wes juist on the greeting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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 as
+      sune as ye cam intae the pairish.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It is the penalty of a cynic that he must have some relief for his secret
+      grief, and Milton began to weary of life in Jamie's hands during those
+      days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumtochty was not observant in the matter of health, but they had grown
+      sensitive about Dr. MacLure, and remarked in the kirkyard all summer that
+      he was failing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He wes aye spare,&rdquo; said Hillocks, &ldquo;an' he's been sair twisted for the
+      laist twenty year, but a' never mind him booed till the year. An' he's
+      gaein' intae sma' buke (bulk), an' a' dinna like that, neeburs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Glen wudna dae weel withoot Weelum MacLure, an' he's no as young as
+      he wes. Man, Drumsheugh, ye micht wile him aff tae the saut water atween
+      the neeps and the hairst. He's been workin' forty year for a holiday, an'
+      it's aboot due.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumsheugh was full of tact, and met MacLure quite by accident on the
+      road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Saunders'll no need me till the shearing begins,&rdquo; he explained to the
+      doctor, &ldquo;an' a'm gaein' tae Brochty for a turn o' the hot baths; they're
+      fine for the rheumatics.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link115" id="link115"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/115.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="115.jpg (49K)" src="images/115.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wull ye no come wi' me for auld lang syne? it's lonesome for a solitary
+      man, an' it wud dae ye gude.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Na, na, Drumsheugh,&rdquo; said MacLure, who understood perfectly, &ldquo;a've dune
+      a' thae years withoot a break, an' a'm laith (unwilling) tae be takin'
+      holidays at the tail end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A'll no be mony months wi' ye a' thegither noo, an' a'm wanting tae spend
+      a' the time a' hev in the Glen. Ye see yersel that a'll sune be getting ma
+      lang rest, an' a'll no deny that a'm wearyin' for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As autumn passed into winter, the Glen noticed that the doctor's hair had
+      turned grey, and that his manner had lost all its roughness. A feeling of
+      secret gratitude filled their hearts, and they united in a conspiracy of
+      attention. Annie Mitchell knitted a huge comforter in red and white, which
+      the doctor wore in misery for one whole day, out of respect for Annie, and
+      then hung it in his sitting-room as a wall ornament. Hillocks used to
+      intercept him with hot drinks, and one drifting day compelled him to
+      shelter till the storm abated. Flora Campbell brought a wonderful compound
+      of honey and whiskey, much tasted in Auchindarroch, for his cough, and the
+      mother of young Burnbrae filled his cupboard with black jam, as a healing
+      measure. Jamie Soutar seemed to have an endless series of jobs in the
+      doctor's direction, and looked in &ldquo;juist tae rest himsel&rdquo; in the kitchen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      MacLure had been slowly taking in the situation, and at last he unburdened
+      himself one night to Jamie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What ails the fouk, think ye? for they're aye lecturin' me noo tae tak
+      care o' the weet and tae wrap masel up, an' there's no a week but they're
+      sendin' bit presents tae the house, till a'm fair ashamed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oo, a'll explain that in a meenut,&rdquo; answered Jamie, &ldquo;for a' ken the Glen
+      weel. Ye see they're juist try in' the Scripture plan o' heapin' coals o'
+      fire on yer head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link118" id="link118"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/118.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="118.jpg (128K)" src="images/118.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here ye've been negleckin' the fouk in seeckness an' lettin' them dee
+      afore their freends' eyes withoot a fecht, an' refusin' tae gang tae a
+      puir wumman in her tribble, an' frichtenin' the bairns&mdash;no, a'm no
+      dune&mdash;and scourgin' us wi' fees, and livin' yersel' on the fat o' the
+      land.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye've been carryin' on this trade ever sin yir father dee'd, and the Glen
+      didna notis. But ma word, they've fund ye oot at laist, an' they're gaein'
+      tae mak ye suffer for a' yir ill usage. Div ye understand noo?&rdquo; said
+      Jamie, savagely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a while MacLure was silent, and then he only said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's little a' did for the puir bodies; but ye hev a gude hert, Jamie, a
+      rael good hert.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a bitter December Sabbath, and the fathers were settling the
+      affairs of the parish ankle deep in snow, when MacLure's old housekeeper
+      told Drumsheugh that the doctor was not able to rise, and wished to see
+      him in the afternoon. &ldquo;Ay, ay,&rdquo; said Hillocks, shaking his head, and that
+      day Drumsheugh omitted four pews with the ladle, while Jamie was so
+      vicious on the way home that none could endure him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Janet had lit a fire in the unused grate, and hung a plaid by the window
+      to break the power of the cruel north wind, but the bare room with its
+      half-a-dozen bits of furniture and a worn strip of carpet, and the outlook
+      upon the snow drifted up to the second pane of the window and the black
+      firs laden with their icy burden, sent a chill to Drumsheugh's heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor had weakened sadly, and could hardly lift his head, but his
+      face lit up at the sight of his visitor, and the big hand, which was now
+      quite refined in its whiteness, came out from the bed-clothes with the old
+      warm grip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link121" id="link121"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/121.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="121.jpg (72K)" src="images/121.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' wesna sure till last nicht, an' then a' felt it wudna be lang, an' a'
+      took a wearyin' this mornin' tae see ye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumsheugh was much shaken, and the sound of the Christian name, which he
+      had not heard since his mother's death, gave him a &ldquo;grue&rdquo; (shiver), as if
+      one had spoken from the other world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's maist awfu' tae hear ye speakin' aboot deein', Weelum; a' canna bear
+      it. We 'ill hae the Muirtown doctor up, an' ye 'ill be aboot again in nae
+      time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye hevna ony sair tribble; ye're juist trachled wi' hard wark an' needin'
+      a rest. Dinna say ye're gaein' tae leave us, Weelum; we canna dae withoot
+      ye in Drumtochty;&rdquo; and Drumsheugh looked wistfully for some word of hope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Na, na, Paitrick, naethin' can be dune, an' it's ower late tae send for
+      ony doctor. There's a knock that canna be mista'en, an' a' heard it last
+      night. A've focht deith for ither fouk mair than forty year, but ma ain
+      time hes come at laist.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A've nae tribble worth mentionin'&mdash;a bit titch o' bronchitis&mdash;an'
+      a've hed a graund constitution; but a'm fair worn oot, Paitrick; that's ma
+      complaint, an' its past curin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumsheugh went over to the fireplace, and for a while did nothing but
+      break up the smouldering peats, whose smoke powerfully affected his nose
+      and eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link124" id="link124"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/124.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="124.jpg (82K)" src="images/124.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When ye're ready, Paitrick, there's twa or three little trokes a' wud
+      like ye tae look aifter, an' a'll tell ye aboot them as lang's ma head's
+      clear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' didna keep buiks, as ye ken, for a' aye hed a guid memory, so naebody
+      'ill be harried for money aifter ma deith, and ye 'ill hae nae accoonts
+      tae collect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the fouk are honest in Drumtochty, and they 'ill be offerin' ye
+      siller, an' a'll gie ye ma mind aboot it. Gin it be a puir body, tell her
+      tae keep it and get a bit plaidie wi' the money, and she 'ill maybe think
+      o' her auld doctor at a time. Gin it be a bien (well-to-do) man, tak half
+      of what he offers, for a Drumtochty man wud scorn to be mean in sic
+      circumstances; and if onybody needs a doctor an' canna pay for him, see
+      he's no left tae dee when a'm oot o' the road.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nae fear o' that as lang as a'm livin', Weelum; that hundred's still tae
+      the fore, ye ken, an' a'll tak care it's weel spent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yon wes the best job we ever did thegither, an' dookin' Saunders, ye 'ill
+      no forget that nicht, Weelum&rdquo;&mdash;a gleam came into the doctor's eyes&mdash;&ldquo;tae
+      say neathin' o' the Highlan' fling.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The remembrance of that great victory came upon Drumsheugh, and tried his
+      fortitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a' for the best, Paitrick, an' ye 'ill see that in a whilie. A've
+      kent fine that ma day wes ower, an' that ye sud hae a younger man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' did what a' cud tae keep up wi' the new medicine, but a' hed little
+      time for readin', an' nane for traivellin'.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Weelum, gin ye cairry on sic nonsense ony langer,&rdquo; interrupted
+      Drumsheugh, huskily, &ldquo;a'll leave the hoose; a' canna stand it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's the truth, Paitrick, but we 'ill gae on wi' our wark, far a'm
+      failin' fast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But a' wudna like ye tae sell Jess, for she's been a faithfu' servant,
+      an' a freend tae. There's a note or twa in that drawer a' savit, an' if ye
+      kent ony man that wud gie her a bite o' grass and a sta' in his stable
+      till she followed her maister&mdash;'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Confoond ye, Weelum,&rdquo; broke out Drumsheugh; &ldquo;its doonricht cruel o' ye to
+      speak like this tae me. Whar wud Jess gang but tae Drumsheugh? she 'ill
+      hae her run o' heck an' manger sae lang as she lives; the Glen wudna like
+      tae see anither man on Jess, and nae man 'ill ever touch the auld mare.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link128" id="link128"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/128.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="128.jpg (57K)" src="images/128.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dinna mind me, Paitrick, for a&rdquo; expeckit this; but ye ken we're no verra
+      gleg wi' oor tongues in Drumtochty, an' dinna tell a' that's in oor
+      hearts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Weel, that's a' that a' mind, an' the rest a' leave tae yersel'. A've
+      neither kith nor kin tae bury me, sae you an' the neeburs 'ill need tae
+      lat me doon; but gin Tammas Mitchell or Saunders be stannin' near and
+      lookin' as if they wud like a cord, gie't tae them, Paitrick. They're
+      baith dour chiels, and haena muckle tae say, but Tammas hes a graund hert,
+      and there's waur fouk in the Glen than Saunders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye 'ill find ma mither's Bible on the drawers' heid, but ye 'ill need tae
+      come close tae the bed, for a'm no hearin' or seein' sae weel as a' wes
+      when ye cam.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumsheugh put on his spectacles and searched for a comfortable Scripture,
+      while the light of the lamp fell on his shaking hands and the doctor's
+      face where the shadow was now settling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link130" id="link130"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/130.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="130.jpg (48K)" src="images/130.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ma mither aye wantit this read tae her when she wes sober&rdquo; (weak), and
+      Drumsheugh began, &ldquo;In My Father's house are many mansions,&rdquo; but MacLure
+      stopped him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a bonnie word, an' yir mither wes a sanct; but it's no for the like
+      o' me. It's ower gude; a' daurna tak it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shut the buik an' let it open itsel, an' ye 'ill get a bit a've been
+      readin' every nicht the laist month.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Drumsheugh found the Parable wherein the Master tells us what God
+      thinks of a Pharisee and of a penitent sinner, till he came to the words:
+      &ldquo;And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his
+      eyes to heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a
+      sinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That micht hae been written for me, Paitrick, or ony ither auld sinner
+      that hes feenished his life, an' hes naethin' tae say for himsel'.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It wesna easy for me tae get tae kirk, but a' cud hae managed wi' a
+      stretch, 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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's ower late tae mend, but ye 'ill maybe juist say to the fouk that I
+      wes sorry, an' a'm houpin' that the Almichty 'ill hae mercy on me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cud ye ... pit up a bit prayer, Paitrick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' haena the words,&rdquo; said Drumsheugh in great distress; &ldquo;wud ye like's
+      tae send for the minister?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's no the time for that noo, an' a' wud rather hae yersel'&mdash;juist
+      what's in yir heart, Paitrick: the Almichty 'ill ken the lave (rest)
+      Himsel'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So Drumsheugh knelt and prayed with many pauses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Almichty God ... dinna be hard on Weelum MacLure, for he's no been hard
+      wi' onybody in Drumtochty.... Be kind tae him as he's been tae us a' for
+      forty year.... We're a' sinners afore Thee.... Forgive him what he's dune
+      wrang, an' dinna cuist it up tae him.... Mind the fouk he's helpit ....
+      the wee-men an' bairnies.... an' gie him a welcome hame, for he's sair
+      needin't after a' his wark.... Amen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank ye, Paitrick, and gude nicht tae ye. Ma ain true freend, gie's yir
+      hand, for a'll maybe no ken ye again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Noo a'll say ma mither's prayer and hae a sleep, but ye 'ill no leave me
+      till a' is ower.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he repeated as he had done every night of his life:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This night I lay me down to sleep,<br /> I pray the Lord my soul to keep.<br />
+      And if I die before I wake,<br /> I pray the Lord my soul to take.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was sleeping quietly when the wind drove the snow against the window
+      with a sudden &ldquo;swish;&rdquo; and he instantly awoke, so to say, in his sleep.
+      Some one needed him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are ye frae Glen Urtach?&rdquo; and an unheard voice seemed to have answered
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Worse is she, an' suffering awfu'; that's no lichtsome; ye did richt tae
+      come.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The front door's drifted up; gang roond tae the back, an' ye 'ill get
+      intae the kitchen; a'll be ready in a meenut.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gie's a hand wi' the lantern when a'm saidling Jess, an' ye needna come
+      on till daylicht; a' ken the road.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link134" id="link134"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/134.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="134.jpg (68K)" src="images/134.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he was away in his sleep on some errand of mercy, and struggling
+      through the storm. &ldquo;It's a coorse nicht, Jess, an' heavy traivellin'; can
+      ye see afore ye, lass? for a'm clean confused wi' the snaw; bide a wee
+      till a' find the diveesion o' the roads; it's aboot here back or forrit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Steady, lass, steady, dinna plunge; i'ts a drift we're in, but ye're no
+      sinkin'; ... up noo; ... there ye are on the road again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh, it's deep the nicht, an' hard on us baith, but there's a puir wumman
+      micht dee if we didna warstle through; ... that's it; ye ken fine what a'm
+      sayin.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We 'ill hae tae leave the road here, an' tak tae the muir. Sandie 'ill no
+      can leave the wife alane tae meet us; ... feel for yersel&rdquo; lass, and keep
+      oot o' the holes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yon's the hoose black in the snaw. Sandie! man, ye frichtened us; a'
+      didna see ye ahint the dyke; hoos the wife?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After a while he began again:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye're fair dune, Jess, and so a' am masel'; we're baith gettin' auld, an'
+      dinna tak sae weel wi' the nicht wark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We 'ill sune be hame noo; this is the black wood, and it's no lang aifter
+      that; we're ready for oor beds, Jess.... ay, ye like a clap at a time;
+      mony a mile we've gaed hegither.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yon's the licht in the kitchen window; nae wonder ye're nickering
+      (neighing).... it's been a stiff journey; a'm tired, lass.... a'm tired
+      tae deith,&rdquo; and the voice died into silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor has forgotten the toil of later years, and has gone back to his
+      boyhood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link137" id="link137"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/137.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="137.jpg (95K)" src="images/137.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want,&rdquo; he repeated, till he came to the
+      last verse, and then he hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Goodness and mercy all my life<br /> Shall surely follow me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Follow me ... and ... and ... what's next? Mither said I wes tae haed
+      ready when she cam.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'A'll come afore ye gang tae sleep, Wullie, but ye 'ill no get yir kiss
+      unless ye can feenish the psalm.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And ... in God's house ... for evermore my ... hoo dis it rin? a canna
+      mind the next word ... my, my&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's ower dark noo tae read it, an' mither 'ill sune be comin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumsheugh, in an agony, whispered into his ear, &ldquo;'My dwelling-place,'
+      Weelum.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's it, that's it a' noo; wha said it?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And in God's house for evermore<br /> My dwelling-place shall be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A'm ready noo, an' a'll get ma kiss when mither comes; a' wish she wud
+      come, for a'm tired an' wantin' tae sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yon's her step ... an' she's carryin' a licht in her hand; a' see it
+      through the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mither! a' kent ye wudna forget yir laddie for ye promised tae come, and
+      a've feenished ma psalm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And in God's house for evermore<br /> My dwelling-place shall be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gie me the kiss, mither, for a've been waitin' for ye, an' a'll sune be
+      asleep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The grey morning light fell on Drumsheugh, still holding his friend's cold
+      hand, and staring at a hearth where the fire had died down into white
+      ashes; but the peace on the doctor's face was of one who rested from his
+      labours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a name="linkV" id="linkV"></a> <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link141" id="link141"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/141.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="141.jpg (68K)" src="images/141.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. MacLure was buried during the great snowstorm which is still spoken
+      of, and will remain the standard of snowfall in Drumtochty for the
+      century. The snow was deep on the Monday, and the men that gave notice of
+      his funeral had hard work to reach the doctor's distant patients. On
+      Tuesday morning it began to fall again in heavy, fleecy flakes, and
+      continued till Thursday, and then on Thursday the north wind rose and
+      swept the snow into the hollows of the roads that went to the upland
+      farms, and built it into a huge bank at the mouth of Glen Urtach, and laid
+      it across our main roads in drifts of every size and the most lovely
+      shapes, and filled up crevices in the hills to the depth of fifty feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On Friday morning the wind had sunk to passing gusts that powdered your
+      coat with white, and the sun was shining on one of those winter landscapes
+      no townsman can imagine and no countryman ever forgets. The Glen, from end
+      to end and side to side, was clothed in a glistering mantle white as no
+      fuller on earth could white it, that flung its skirts over the clumps of
+      trees and scattered farmhouses, and was only divided where the Tochty ran
+      with black, swollen stream. The great moor rose and fell in swelling
+      billows of snow that arched themselves over the burns, running deep in the
+      mossy ground, and hid the black peat bogs with a thin, treacherous crust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link143" id="link143"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/143.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="143.jpg (55K)" src="images/143.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Beyond, the hills northwards and westwards stood high in white majesty,
+      save where the black crags of Glen Urtach broke the line, and, above our
+      lower Grampians, we caught glimpses of the distant peaks that lifted their
+      heads in holiness unto God.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed to me a fitting day for William MacLure's funeral, rather than
+      summer time, with its flowers and golden corn. He had not been a soft man,
+      nor had he lived an easy life, and now he was to be laid to rest amid the
+      austere majesty of winter, yet in the shining of the sun. Jamie Soutar,
+      with whom I toiled across the Glen, did not think with me, but was gravely
+      concerned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nae doot it's a graund sicht; the like o't is no gien tae us twice in a
+      generation, an' nae king wes ever carried tae his tomb in sic a cathedral.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it's the fouk a'm conseederin', an' hoo they'll win through; it's
+      hard eneuch for them 'at's on the road, an' it's clean impossible for the
+      lave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link145" id="link145"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/145.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="145.jpg (85K)" src="images/145.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They 'ill dae their best, every man o' them, ye may depend on that, an'
+      hed it been open weather there wudna hev been six able-bodied men missin'.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A' wes mad at them, because they never said onything when he wes leevin',
+      but they felt for a' that what he hed dune, an', a' think, he kent it
+      afore he deed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He hed juist ae faut, tae ma thinkin', for a' never jidged the waur o'
+      him for his titch of rochness&mdash;guid trees hae gnarled bark&mdash;but
+      he thotched ower little o' himsel'.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Noo, gin a' hed asked him hoo mony fouk wud come tae his beerial, he wud
+      hae said, 'They 'ill be Drumsheugh an' yersel', an' may be twa or three
+      neeburs besides the minister,' an' the fact is that nae man in oor time
+      wud hae sic a githerin' if it werena for the storm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link147" id="link147"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/147.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="147.jpg (59K)" src="images/147.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye see,&rdquo; said Jamie, who had been counting heads all morning, &ldquo;there's
+      six shepherds in Glen Urtaeh&mdash;they're shut up fast; an' there micht
+      hae been a gude half dizen frae Dunleith wy, an' a'm telt there's nae
+      road; an' there's the heich Glen, nae man cud cross the muir the day, an'
+      it's aucht mile round;&rdquo; and Jamie proceeded to review the Glen in every
+      detail of age, driftiness of road and strength of body, till we arrived at
+      the doctor's cottage, when he had settled on a reduction of fifty through
+      stress of weather.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link148" id="link148"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/148.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="148.jpg (69K)" src="images/148.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Drumsheugh was acknowledged as chief mourner by the Glen, and received us
+      at the gate with a labored attempt at everyday manners.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye've hed heavy traivellin', a' doot, an' ye 'ill be cauld. It's hard
+      weather for the sheep an' a'm thinkin' this 'ill be a feeding storm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There wes nae use trying tae dig oot the front door yestreen, for it wud
+      hae been drifted up again before morning. We've cleared awa the snow at
+      the back for the prayer; ye 'ill get in at the kitchen door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's a puckle Dunleith men&mdash;&mdash;-&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wha?&rdquo; cried Jamie in an instant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dunleith men,&rdquo; said Drumsheugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Div ye mean they're here, whar are they?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Drying themsels at the fire, an' no withoot need; ane of them gied ower
+      the head in a drift, and his neeburs hed tae pu' him oot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&rdquo;&mdash;here Drumsheugh's
+      voice changed its note, and his public manner disappeared&mdash;&ldquo;what div
+      ye think o' this? every man o' them has on his blacks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's mair than cud be expeckit&rdquo; said Jamie; &ldquo;but whar dae yon men come
+      frae, Drumsheugh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      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.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They're Glen Urtach men, Jamie, for are o' them wes at Kildrummie fair
+      wi' sheep, but hoo they've wun doon passes me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It canna be, Drumsheugh,&rdquo; said Jamie, greatly excited. &ldquo;Glen Urtach's
+      steikit up wi' sna like a locked door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link151" id="link151"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/151.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="151.jpg (64K)" src="images/151.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye're no surely frae the Glen, lads?&rdquo; as the men leaped the dyke and
+      crossed to the back door, the snow falling from their plaids as they
+      walked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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' there wes
+      some kittle (hazardous) drifts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It wes grand o' ye tae mak the attempt,&rdquo; said Drumsheugh, &ldquo;an' a'm gled
+      ye're safe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He cam through as bad himsel' tae help ma wife,&rdquo; was Charlie's reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They're three mair Urtach shepherds 'ill come in by sune; they're frae
+      Upper Urtach an' we saw them fording the river; ma certes it took them a'
+      their time, for it wes up tae their waists and rinnin' like a mill lade,
+      but they jined hands and cam ower fine.&rdquo; And the Urtach men went in 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 utter indifference,
+      checked his roll till even he was satisfied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link153" id="link153"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/153.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="153.jpg (52K)" src="images/153.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Weelum MacLure 'ill hae the beerial he deserves in spite o' sna and
+      drifts; it passes a' tae see hoo they've githered frae far an' near.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dinna be sae sure o' that, Jamie. Yon's terrible like them on the road,
+      wi' Whinnie at their head;&rdquo; and so it was, twelve in all, only old Adam
+      Ross absent, detained by force, being eighty-two years of age.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It wud hae been temptin' Providence tae cross the muir,&rdquo; Whinnie
+      explained, &ldquo;and it's a fell stap roond; a' doot we're laist.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See, Jamie,&rdquo; said Drumsheugh, as he went to the house, &ldquo;gin there be ony
+      antern body in sicht afore we begin; we maun mak allooances the day wi'
+      twa feet o' sna on the grund, tae say naethin' o' drifts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's something at the turnin', an' it's no fouk; it's a machine o'
+      some kind or ither&mdash;maybe a bread cart that's focht its wy up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Na, it's no that; there's twa horses, are afore the ither; if it's no a
+      dogcairt wi' twa men in the front; they 'ill be comin' tae the beerial.&rdquo;
+       &ldquo;What wud ye sae, Jamie,&rdquo; Hillocks suggested, &ldquo;but it micht be some o'
+      thae Muirtown doctors? they were awfu' chief wi' MacLure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's nae Muirtown doctors,&rdquo; cried Jamie, in great exultation, &ldquo;nor ony
+      ither doctors. A' ken thae horses, and wha's ahind them. Quick, man,
+      Hillocks, stop the fouk, and tell Drumsheugh tae come oot, for Lord
+      Kilspindie hes come up frae Muirtown Castle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jamie himself slipped behind, and did not wish to be seen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's the respeck he's gettin' the day frae high an' low,&rdquo; was Jamie's
+      husky apology; &ldquo;tae think o' them fetchin' their wy doon frae Glen Urtach,
+      and toiling roond frae the heich Glen, an' his Lordship driving through
+      the drifts a' the road frae Muirtown, juist tae honour Weelum MacLure's
+      beerial.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link156" id="link156"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/156.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="156.jpg (52K)" src="images/156.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's nae ceremony the day, ye may lippen tae it; it's the hert brocht the
+      fouk, an' ye can see it in their faces; ilka man hes his ain reason, an'
+      he's thinkin' on't though he's speakin' o' naethin' but the storm; he's
+      mindin' the day Weelum pued him out frae the jaws o' death, or the nicht
+      he savit the gude wife in her oor o' tribble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's why they pit on their blacks this mornin' afore it wes licht, and
+      wrastled through the sna drifts at risk o' life. Drumtochty fouk canna say
+      muckle, it's an awfu' peety, and they 'ill dae their best tae show
+      naethin', but a' can read it a' in their een.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But wae's me&rdquo;&mdash;and Jamie broke down utterly behind a fir tree, so
+      tender a thing is a cynic's heart&mdash;&ldquo;that fouk 'ill tak a man's best
+      wark a' his days without a word an' no dae him honour till he dees. Oh, if
+      they hed only githered like this juist aince when he wes livin', an' lat
+      him see he hedna laboured in vain. His reward has come ower late&rdquo;.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      During Jamie's vain regret, the castle trap, bearing the marks of a wild
+      passage in the snow-covered wheels, a broken shaft tied with rope, a
+      twisted lamp, and the panting horses, pulled up between two rows of
+      farmers, and Drumsheugh received his lordship with evident emotion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ma lord ... we never thocht o' this ... an' sic a road.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How are you, Drumsheugh? and how are you all this wintry day? That's how
+      I'm half an hour late; it took us four hours' stiff work for sixteen
+      miles, mostly in the drifts, of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It wes gude o' yir lordship, tae mak sic an effort, an' the hale Glen
+      wull be gratefu' tae ye, for ony kindness tae him is kindness tae us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link159" id="link159"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/159.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="159.jpg (83K)" src="images/159.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You make too much of it, Drumsheugh,&rdquo; and the clear, firm voice was heard
+      of all; &ldquo;it would have taken more than a few snow drifts to keep me from
+      showing my respect to William MacLure's memory.&rdquo; When all had gathered in
+      a half circle before the kitchen door, Lord Kilspindie came out&mdash;every
+      man noticed he had left his overcoat, and was in black, like the Glen&mdash;and
+      took a place in the middle with Drumsheugh and Burnbrae, his two chief
+      tenants, on the right and left, and as the minister appeared every man
+      bared his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor looked on the company&mdash;a hundred men such as for strength
+      and gravity you could hardly have matched in Scotland&mdash;standing out
+      in picturesque relief against the white background, and he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a bitter day, friends, and some of you are old; perhaps it might be
+      wise to cover your heads before I begin to pray.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Kilspindie, standing erect and grey-headed between the two old men,
+      replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We thank you, Dr. Davidson, for your thoughtfulness; but he endured many
+      a storm in our service, and we are not afraid of a few minutes' cold at
+      his funeral.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A look flashed round the stern faces, and was reflected from the minister,
+      who seemed to stand higher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His prayer, we noticed with critical appreciation, was composed for the
+      occasion, and the first part was a thanksgiving to God for the life work
+      of our doctor, wherein each clause was a reference to his services and
+      sacrifices. No one moved or said Amen&mdash;it had been strange with us&mdash;but
+      when every man had heard the gratitude of his dumb heart offered to
+      heaven, there was a great sigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After which the minister prayed that we might have grace to live as this
+      man had done from youth to old age, not for himself, but for others, and
+      that we might be followed to our grave by somewhat of &ldquo;that love wherewith
+      we mourn this day Thy servant departed.&rdquo; Again the same sigh, and the
+      minister said Amen. The &ldquo;wricht&rdquo; stood in the doorway without speaking,
+      and four stalwart men came forward. They were the volunteers that would
+      lift the coffin and carry it for the first stage. One was Tammas, Annie
+      Mitchell's man; and another was Saunders Baxter, for whose life MacLure
+      had his great fight with death; and the third was the Glen Urtach shepherd
+      for whose wife's sake MacLure suffered a broken leg and three fractured
+      ribs in a drift; and the fourth, a Dunleith man, had his own reasons of
+      remembrance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's far lichter than ye wud expeck for sae big a man&mdash;there wesna
+      muckle left o' him, ye see&mdash;but the road is heavy, and a'il change ye
+      aifter the first half mile.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye needna tribble yersel, wricht,&rdquo; said the man from Glen Urtach; &ldquo;the'll
+      be nae change in the cairryin' the day,&rdquo; and Tammas was thankful some one
+      had saved him speaking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Surely no funeral is like unto that of a doctor for pathos, and a peculiar
+      sadness fell on that company as his body was carried out who for nearly
+      half a century had been their help in sickness, and had beaten back death
+      time after time from their door. Death after all was victor, for the man
+      that had saved them had not been able to save himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the coffin passed the stable door a horse nieghed within, and every man
+      looked at his neighbour. It was his old mare crying to her master.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jamie slipped into the stable, and went up into the stall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Puir lass, ye're no gaen' wi' him the day, an' ye 'ill never see him
+      again; ye've hed yir last ride thegither, an' ye were true tae the end.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link164" id="link164"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/164.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="164.jpg (102K)" src="images/164.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After the funeral Drumsheugh came himself for Jess, and took her to his
+      farm. Saunders made a bed for her with soft, dry straw, and prepared for
+      her supper such things as horses love. Jess would neither take food nor
+      rest, but moved uneasily in her stall, and seemed to be waiting for some
+      one that never came. No man knows what a horse or a dog understands and
+      feels, for God hath not given them our speech. If any footstep was heard
+      in the courtyard, she began to neigh, and was always looking round as the
+      door opened. But nothing would tempt her to eat, and in the night-time
+      Drumsheugh heard her crying as if she expected to be taken out for some
+      sudden journey. The Kildrummie veterinary came to see her, and said that
+      nothing could be done when it happened after this fashion with an old
+      horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link165" id="link165"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/165.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="165.jpg (68K)" src="images/165.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A've seen it aince afore,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Gin she were a Christian instead o'
+      a horse, ye micht say she wes dying o' a broken hert.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He recommended that she should be shot to end her misery, but no man could
+      be found in the Glen to do the deed and Jess relieved them of the trouble.
+      When Drumsheugh went to the stable on Monday morning, a week after Dr.
+      MacLure fell on sleep, Jess was resting at last, but her eyes were open
+      and her face turned to the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She wes a' the wife he hed,&rdquo; said Jamie, as he rejoined the procession,
+      &ldquo;an' they luved ane anither weel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The black thread wound itself along the whiteness of the Glen, the coffin
+      first, with his lordship and Drumsheugh behind, and the others as they
+      pleased, but in closer ranks than usual, because the snow on either side
+      was deep, and because this was not as other funerals. They could see the
+      women standing at the door of every house on the hillside, and weeping,
+      for each family had some good reason in forty years to remember MacLure.
+      When Bell Baxter saw Saunders alive, and the coffin of the doctor that
+      saved him on her man's shoulder, she bowed her head on the dyke, and the
+      bairns in the village made such a wail for him they loved that the men
+      nearly disgraced themselves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A'm gled we're through that, at ony rate,&rdquo; said Hillocks; &ldquo;he wes awfu'
+      taen up wi' the bairns, conseederin' he hed nane o' his ain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was only one drift on the road between his cottage and the kirkyard,
+      and it had been cut early that morning. Before daybreak Saunders had
+      roused the lads in the bothy, and they had set to work by the light of
+      lanterns with such good will that, when Drumsheugh came down to engineer a
+      circuit for the funeral, there was a fair passage, with walls of snow
+      twelve feet high on either side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link168" id="link168"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/168.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="168.jpg (60K)" src="images/168.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Man, Saunders,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;this wes a kind thocht, and rael weel dune.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Saunders' only reply was this: &ldquo;Mony a time he's hed tae gang round;
+      he micht as weel hae an open road for his last traivel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link169" id="link169"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/169.png">ENLARGE
+      TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="169.jpg (120K)" src="images/169.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the coffin was laid down at the mouth of the grave, the only
+      blackness in the white kirkyard, Tammas Mitchell did the most beautiful
+      thing in all his life. He knelt down and carefully wiped off the snow the
+      wind had blown upon the coffin, and which had covered the name, and when
+      he had done this he disappeared behind the others, so that Drumsheugh
+      could hardly find him to take a cord. For these were the eight that buried
+      Dr. MacLure&mdash;Lord Kilspindie at the head as landlord and Drumsheugh
+      at his feet as his friend; the two ministers of the parish came first on
+      the right and left; then Burnbrae and Hillocks of the farmers, and
+      Saunders and Tammas for the plowmen. So the Glen he loved laid him to
+      rest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the bedrel had finished his work and the turf had been spread, Lord
+      Kilspindie spoke:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Friends of Drumtochty, it would not be right that we should part in
+      silence and no man say what is in every heart. We have buried the remains
+      of one that served this Glen with a devotion that has known no reserve,
+      and a kindliness that never failed, for more than forty years. I have seen
+      many brave men in my day, but no man in the trenches of Sebastopol carried
+      himself more knightly than William MacLure. You will never have heard from
+      his lips what I may tell you to-day, that my father secured for him a
+      valuable post in his younger days, and he preferred to work among his own
+      people; and I wished to do many things for him when he was old, but he
+      would have nothing for himself. He will never be forgotten while one of us
+      lives, and I pray that all doctors everywhere may share his spirit. If it
+      be your pleasure, I shall erect a cross above his grave, and shall ask my
+      old friend and companion Dr. Davidson, your minister, to choose the text
+      to be inscribed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We thank you, Lord Kilspindie,&rdquo; said the doctor, &ldquo;for your presence with
+      us in our sorrow and your tribute to the memory of William MacLure, and I
+      choose this for his text:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Greater love hath no man than this,<br /> that a man lay down his life
+      for his friends.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Milton was, at that time, held in the bonds of a very bitter theology, and
+      his indignation was stirred by this unqualified eulogium.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt Dr. MacLure hed mony natural virtues, an' he did his wark weel,
+      but it wes a peety he didna mak mair profession o' releegion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When William MacLure appears before the Judge, Milton,&rdquo; said Lachlan
+      Campbell, who that day spoke his last words in public, and they were in
+      defence of charity, &ldquo;He will not be asking him about his professions, for
+      the doctor's judgment hass been ready long ago; and it iss a good
+      judgment, and you and I will be happy men if we get the like of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is written in the Gospel, but it iss William MacLure that will not be
+      expecting it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is't Lachlan?&rdquo; asked Jamie Soutar eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man, now very feeble, stood in the middle of the road, and his
+      face, once so hard, was softened into a winsome tenderness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Come, ye blessed of My Father <br /> ... I was sick and ye visited Me.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /> <a name="link174" id="link174"></a> <br /><br /> <a
+      href="images/174.png">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+      <img alt="174.jpg (63K)" src="images/174.jpg" width="100%" />
+    </div>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Doctor of the Old School, Complete
+by Ian Maclaren
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+Project Gutenberg's A Doctor of the Old School, Complete, by Ian Maclaren
+#6 in our series by Ian Maclaren
+Illustrated by Frederick C. Gordon
+
+Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
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+Title: A Doctor of the Old School, Complete
+
+Author: Ian Maclaren
+
+Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9320]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on September 21, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger and PG Distributed Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+                    A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL
+
+                        by Ian Maclaren
+
+
+
+CONTENTS:
+
+A GENERAL PRACTITIONER
+THROUGH THE FLOOD
+A FIGHT WITH DEATH
+THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY
+THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS:
+
+Dr. MacLure
+Sandy Stewart "Napped" Stones
+The Gudewife is Keepin' up a Ding-Dong
+His House--little more than a cottage
+Whirling Past in a Cloud of Dust
+Will He Never Come?
+The Verra Look o' Him wes Victory
+Weeping by Her Man's Bedside
+For Such Risks of Life, Men Get the Victoria Cross in Other Fields
+Hopps' Laddie Ate Grosarts
+There werna Mair than Four at Nicht
+A' doot Yir Gaein' tae Lose Her, Tammas
+The Bonniest, Snoddest, Kindliest Lass in the Glen
+The Winter Night was Falling Fast
+Comin' tae Meet Me in the Gloamin'
+It's oot o' the Question, Jess, sae Hurry up
+It's a Fell Chairge for a Short Day's Work
+The East had Come to Meet the West
+MacLure Explained that it would be an Eventful Journey
+They Passed through the Shallow Water without Mishap
+A Heap of Speechless Misery by the Kitchen Fire
+Ma ain Dear Man
+I'm Proud to have Met You
+Gave Way Utterly
+Fillin' His Lungs for Five and Thirty Year wi' Strong Drumtochty Air
+Bell Leant Over the Bed
+A Large Tub
+The Lighted Window in Saunder's Cottage
+A Clenched Fist Resting on the Bed
+The Doctor was Attempting the Highland
+Fling
+Sleepin' on the Top o' Her Bed
+A' Prayed Last Nicht
+I've a Cold in My Head To-night
+Jess Bolted without Delay
+Comin' in Frae Glen Urtach
+Drumsheugh was Full of Tact
+Told Drumsheugh that the Doctor was not Able to Rise
+With the Old Warm Grip
+Drumsheugh Looked Wistfully
+Wud Gie Her a Bite o' Grass
+Ma Mither's Bible
+It's a Coorse Nicht, Jess
+She's Carryin' a Licht in Her Hand
+The Tochty Ran with Black, Swollen Stream
+Toiled Across the Glen
+There was Nae Use Trying tae Dig Oot the Front Door
+Ane of Them Gied Ower the Head in a Drift, and His Neeburs hed tae
+  pu' Him oot
+Two Men in Plaids were Descending the Hill
+Jined Hands and Cam ower Fine
+Twa Horses, Ane afore the Ither
+He had Left His Overcoat, and was in Black
+Death after All was Victor
+She Began to Neigh
+They had Set to Work
+Standing at the Door
+Finis
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+It is with great good will that I write this short preface to the
+edition of "A Doctor of the Old School" (which has been illustrated by
+Mr. Gordon after an admirable and understanding fashion) because there
+are two things that I should like to say to my readers, being also my
+friends.
+
+One, is to answer a question that has been often and fairly asked. Was
+there ever any doctor so self-forgetful and so utterly Christian as
+William MacLure? To which I am proud to reply, on my conscience: Not one
+man, but many in Scotland and in the South country. I will dare prophecy
+also across the sea.
+
+It has been one man's good fortune to know four country doctors, not one
+of whom was without his faults--Weelum was not perfect--but who, each
+one, might have sat for my hero. Three are now resting from their
+labors, and the fourth, if he ever should see these lines, would never
+identify himself.
+
+Then I desire to thank my readers, and chiefly the medical profession
+for the reception given to the Doctor of Drumtochty.
+
+For many years I have desired to pay some tribute to a class whose
+service to the community was known to every countryman, but after the
+tale had gone forth my heart failed. For it might have been despised
+for the little grace of letters in the style and because of the outward
+roughness of the man. But neither his biographer nor his circumstances
+have 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 in
+commendation of Weelum MacLure, and many were from doctors who had
+received new courage. It is surely more honor than a new writer could
+ever have deserved to receive the approbation of a profession whose
+charity puts us all to shame.
+
+May I take this first opportunity to declare how deeply my heart has
+been 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 face
+to face.
+
+IAN MACLAREN. Liverpool, Oct. 4, 1895.
+
+
+
+
+                     A GENERAL PRACTITIONER.
+
+
+I
+
+A GENERAL PRACTITIONER
+
+Drumtochty was accustomed to break every law of health, except wholesome
+food and fresh air, and yet had reduced the Psalmist's farthest limit to
+an average life-rate. Our men made no difference in their clothes for
+summer or winter, Drumsheugh and one or two of the larger farmers
+condescending to a topcoat on Sabbath, as a penalty of their position,
+and without regard to temperature. They wore their blacks at a funeral,
+refusing to cover them with anything, out of respect to the deceased,
+and standing longest in the kirkyard when the north wind was blowing
+across a hundred miles of snow. If the rain was pouring at the Junction,
+then Drumtochty stood two minutes longer through sheer native dourness
+till each man had a cascade from the tail of his coat, and hazarded the
+suggestion, 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 in
+the shape of a "hoast" (cough), and the head of the house was then
+exhorted by his women folk to "change his feet" if he had happened to
+walk through a burn on his way home, and was pestered generally with
+sanitary precautions. It is right to add that the  gudeman treated such
+advice with contempt, regarding it as suitable for the effeminacy of
+towns, but not seriously 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 he
+spent ten years more in regretting his hastiness and criticising his
+successor. The ordinary course of life, with fine air and contented
+minds, was to do a full share of work till seventy, and then to look
+after "orra" jobs well into the eighties, and to "slip awa" within sight
+of ninety. Persons above ninety were understood to be acquitting
+themselves with credit, and assumed airs of authority, brushing aside
+the opinions of seventy as immature, and confirming their conclusions
+with illustrations drawn from the end of last century.
+
+When Hillocks' brother so far forgot himself as to "slip awa"
+at sixty, that worthy man was scandalized, and offered laboured
+explanations at the "beerial."
+
+"It's an awfu' business ony wy ye look at it, an' a sair trial tae us
+a'. A' never heard tell o' sic a thing in oor family afore, an' it's no
+easy accoontin' for't.
+
+"The gudewife was sayin' he wes never the same sin' a weet nicht he lost
+himsel on the muir and slept below a bush; but that's neither here nor
+there. A'm thinkin' he sappit his constitution thae twa years he wes
+grieve aboot England. That wes thirty years syne, but ye're never the
+same aifter thae foreign climates."
+
+Drumtochty listened patiently to Hillocks' apology, but was not
+satisfied.
+
+"It's clean havers about the muir. Losh keep's, we've a' sleepit oot and
+never 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 hed
+been nippit in the Sooth."
+
+The parish had, in fact, lost confidence in Drums after his wayward
+experiment with a potato-digging machine, which turned out a lamentable
+failure, and his premature departure confirmed our vague impression of
+his character.
+
+"He's awa noo," Drumsheugh summed up, after opinion had time to form;
+"an' there were waur fouk than Drums, but there's nae doot he was a wee
+flichty."
+
+When illness had the audacity to attack a Drumtochty man, it was
+described as a "whup," and was treated by the men with a fine
+negligence. Hillocks was sitting in the post-office one afternoon when
+I looked in for my letters, and the right side of his face was blazing
+red. His subject of discourse was the prospects of the turnip "breer,"
+but he casually explained that he was waiting for medical advice.
+
+"The gudewife is keepin' up a ding-dong frae mornin' till nicht aboot ma
+face, and a'm fair deaved (deafened), so a'm watchin' for MacLure tae
+get a bottle as he comes wast; yon's him noo."
+
+The doctor made his diagnosis from horseback on sight, and stated the
+result with that admirable clearness which endeared him to Drumtochty.
+
+"Confoond ye, Hillocks, what are ye ploiterin' aboot here for in the
+weet 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' ye
+afore a' leave the bit, and send a haflin for some medicine. Ye donnerd
+idiot, are ye ettlin tae follow Drums afore yir time?" And the medical
+attendant of Drumtochty continued his invective till Hillocks started,
+and still pursued his  retreating figure with medical directions of a
+simple 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 the
+mornin', and dinna show yir face in the fields till a' see ye. A'll gie
+ye a cry on Monday--sic an auld fule--but there's no are o' them tae
+mind anither in the hale pairish."
+
+Hillocks' wife informed the kirkyaird that the doctor "gied the gudeman
+an awfu' clear-in'," and that Hillocks "wes keepin' the hoose," which
+meant that the patient had tea breakfast, and at that time was wandering
+about the farm buildings in an easy undress with his head in a plaid.
+
+It was impossible for a doctor to earn even the most modest competence
+from a people of such scandalous health, and so MacLure had annexed
+neighbouring parishes. His house--little more than a cottage--stood on
+the roadside among the pines towards the head of our Glen, and from this
+base of operations he dominated the wild glen that broke the wall of the
+Grampians above Drumtochty--where the snow drifts were twelve feet deep
+in winter, and the only way of passage at times was the channel of the
+river--and the moorland district westwards till he came to the Dunleith
+sphere of influence, where there were four doctors and a hydropathic.
+Drumtochty in its length, which was eight miles, and its breadth, which
+was 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 way
+thereto was across the big moor with its peat holes and treacherous
+bogs. And he held the land eastwards towards Muirtown so far as Geordie,
+the Drumtochty post, travelled every day, and could carry word that the
+doctor was wanted. He did his best for the need of every man, woman and
+child in this wild, straggling district, year in, year out, in the snow
+and in the heat, in the dark and in the light, without rest, and without
+holiday for forty years.
+
+One horse could not do the work of this man, but we liked best to see
+him on his old white mare, who died the week after her master, and the
+passing of the two did our hearts good. It was not that he rode
+beautifully, for he broke every canon of art, flying with his arms,
+stooping till he seemed to be speaking into Jess's ears, and rising in
+the saddle beyond all necessity. But he could rise faster, stay longer
+in the saddle, and had a firmer grip with his knees than any one I ever
+met, and it was all for mercy's sake. When the reapers in harvest time
+saw a figure whirling past in a cloud of dust, or the family at the foot
+of Glen Urtach, gathered round the fire on a winter's night, heard the
+rattle of a horse's hoofs on the road, or the shepherds, out after the
+sheep, traced a black speck moving across the snow to the upper glen,
+they knew it was the doctor, and, without being conscious of it, wished
+him God speed.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Before and behind his saddle were strapped the instruments and medicines
+the doctor might want, for he never knew what was before him. There were
+no specialists in Drumtochty, so this man had to do everything as best
+be could, and as quickly. He was chest doctor and doctor for every other
+organ as well; he was accoucheur and surgeon; he was oculist and aurist;
+he was dentist and chloroformist, besides being chemist and druggist.
+It was often told how he was far up Glen Urtach when the feeders of the
+threshing mill caught young Burnbrae, and how he only stopped to change
+horses at his house, and galloped all the way to Burnbrae, and flung
+himself off his horse and amputated the arm, and saved the lad's life.
+
+"You wud hae thocht that every meenut was an hour," said Jamie Soutar,
+who had been at the threshing, "an' a'll never forget the puir lad lying
+as white as deith on the floor o' the loft, wi' his head on a sheaf, an'
+Burnbrae haudin' the bandage ticht an' prayin' a' the while, and the
+mither greetin' in the corner.
+
+"'Will he never come?' she cries, an' a' heard the soond o' the horse's
+feet on the road a mile awa in the frosty air.
+
+"'The Lord be praised!' said Burnbrae, and a' slippit doon the ladder
+as the doctor came skelpin' intae the close, the foam fleein' frae his
+horse's mooth.
+
+"Whar is he?' wes a' that passed his lips, an' in five meenuts he hed
+him on the feedin' board, and wes at his wark--sic wark, neeburs--but he
+did it weel. An' ae thing a' thocht rael thochtfu' o' him: he first sent
+aff the laddie's mither tae get a bed ready.
+
+"Noo that's feenished, and his constitution 'ill dae the rest," and he
+carried the lad doon the ladder in his airms like a bairn, and laid him
+in 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' hevna
+tasted meat for saxteen hoors.'
+
+"It was michty tae see him come intae the yaird that day, neeburs; the
+verra look o' him wes victory."
+
+[Illustration: "THE VERRA LOOK O' HIM WES VICTORY"]
+
+Jamie's cynicism slipped off in the enthusiasm of this reminiscence, and
+he expressed the feeling of Drumtochty. No one sent for MacLure save in
+great straits, and the sight of him put courage in sinking hearts. But
+this was not by the grace of his appearance, or the advantage of a good
+bedside manner. A tall, gaunt, loosely made man, without an ounce of
+superfluous flesh on his body, his face burned a dark brick color by
+constant exposure to the weather, red hair and beard turning grey,
+honest blue eyes that look you ever in the face, huge hands with wrist
+bones like the shank of a ham, and a voice that hurled his salutations
+across two fields, he suggested the moor rather  than the drawing-room.
+But what a clever hand it was in an operation, as delicate as a woman's,
+and what a kindly voice it was in the humble room where the shepherd's
+wife was weeping by her man's bedside. He was "ill pitten the gither" to
+begin with, but many of his physical defects were the penalties of his
+work, and endeared him to the Glen. That ugly scar that cut into his
+right eyebrow and gave him such a sinister expression, was got one night
+Jess slipped on the ice and laid him insensible eight miles from home.
+His limp marked the big snowstorm in the fifties, when his horse missed
+the road in Glen Urtach, and they rolled together in a drift. MacLure
+escaped with a broken leg and the fracture of three ribs, but he never
+walked like other men again. He could not swing himself into the saddle
+without making two attempts and holding Jess's mane. Neither can you
+"warstle" through the peat bogs and snow drifts for forty winters
+without a touch of rheumatism. But they were honorable scars, and for
+such risks of life men get the Victoria Cross in other fields.
+
+[Illustration: "FOR SUCH RISKS OF LIFE MEN GET THE VICTORIA CROSS IN
+OTHER FIELDS"]
+
+MacLure got nothing but the secret affection of the Glen, which knew
+that none had ever done one-tenth as much for it as this ungainly,
+twisted, battered figure, and I have  seen a Drumtochty face
+soften at the sight of MacLure limping to his horse.
+
+Mr. Hopps earned the ill-will of the Glen for ever by criticising
+the doctor's dress, but indeed it would have filled any townsman with
+amazement. Black he wore once a year, on Sacrament Sunday, and, if
+possible, at a funeral; topcoat or waterproof never. His jacket and
+waistcoat were rough homespun of Glen Urtach wool, which threw off the
+wet like a duck's back, and below he was clad in shepherd's tartan
+trousers, which disappeared into unpolished riding boots. His shirt was
+grey flannel, and he was uncertain about a collar, but certain as to a
+tie which he never had, his beard doing instead, and his hat was soft
+felt of four colors and seven different shapes. His point of distinction
+in dress was the trousers, and they were the subject of unending
+speculation.
+
+"Some threep that he's worn thae eedentical pair the last twenty year,
+an' a' mind masel him gettin' a tear ahint, when he was crossin' oor
+palin', and the mend's still veesible.
+
+"Ithers declare 'at he's got a wab o' claith, and hes a new pair made in
+Muirtown aince in the twa year maybe, and keeps them in the garden till
+the new look wears aff.
+
+"For ma ain pairt," Soutar used to declare, "a' canna mak up my mind,
+but there's ae thing sure, the Glen wud not like tae see him withoot
+them: it wud be a shock tae confidence. There's no muckle o' the check
+left, but ye can aye tell it, and when ye see thae breeks comin' in ye
+ken that if human pooer can save yir bairn's life it 'ill be dune."
+
+The confidence of the Glen--and tributary states--was unbounded, and
+rested partly on long experience of the doctor's resources, and partly
+on his hereditary connection.
+
+"His father was here afore him," Mrs. Macfadyen used to explain; "atween
+them they've hed the countyside for weel on tae a century; if MacLure
+disna understand oor constitution, wha dis, a' wud like tae ask?"
+
+For Drumtochty had its own constitution and a special throat disease, as
+became a parish which was quite self-contained between the woods and the
+hills, and not dependent on the lowlands either for its diseases or its
+doctors.
+
+"He's a skilly man, Doctor MacLure," 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' he
+disna tribble the Kirk often.
+
+"He aye can tell what's wrang wi' a body, an' maistly he can put ye
+richt, and there's nae new-fangled wys wi' him: a blister for the
+ootside an' Epsom salts for the inside dis his wark, an' they say
+there's no an herb on the hills he disna ken.
+
+"If we're tae dee, we're tae dee; an' if we're tae live, we're tae live,"
+concluded Elspeth, with sound Calvinistic logic; "but a'll say this
+for the doctor, that whether yir tae live or dee, he can aye keep up a
+sharp 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' misadventures
+of 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' he
+writes 'immediately' on a slip o' paper.
+
+"Weel, MacLure had been awa a' nicht wi' a shepherd's wife Dunleith wy,
+and he comes here withoot drawin' bridle, mud up tae the 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 and
+tire.
+
+"'It's nane o' us, doctor; it's Hopps' laddie; he's been eatin' ower
+mony 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, and
+I've never had one wink of sleep. You might have come a little quicker,
+that's all I've got to say.'
+
+"We've mair tae dae in Drumtochty than attend tae every bairn that hes a
+sair stomach,' and a' saw MacLure wes roosed.
+
+"'I'm astonished to hear you speak. Our doctor at home always says to
+Mrs. 'Opps "Look on me as a family friend, Mrs. 'Opps, and send for me
+though it be only a headache."'
+
+"'He'd be mair sparin' o' his offers if he hed four and twenty mile tae
+look aifter. There's naethin' wrang wi' yir laddie but greed. Gie him a
+gude dose o' castor oil and stop his meat for a day, an' he 'ill be a'
+richt the morn.'
+
+"'He 'ill not take castor oil, doctor. We have given up those barbarous
+medicines.'
+
+"'Whatna kind o' medicines hae ye noo in the Sooth?'
+
+"'Well, you see, Dr. MacLure, we're homoeopathists, and I've my little
+chest here,' and oot Hopps comes wi' his boxy.
+
+"'Let's see't,' an' MacLure sits doon and taks oot the bit bottles, and
+he reads the names wi' a lauch every time.
+
+"'Belladonna; did ye ever hear the like? Aconite; it cowes a'. Nux
+Vomica. What next? Weel, ma mannie,' he says tae Hopps, 'it's a fine
+ploy, and ye 'ill better gang on wi' the Nux till it's dune, and gie him
+ony ither o' the sweeties he fancies.
+
+"'Noo, Hillocks, a' maun be aff tae see Drumsheugh's grieve, for he's
+doon wi' the fever, and it's tae be a teuch fecht. A' hinna time tae
+wait for dinner; gie me some cheese an' cake in ma haund, and Jess 'ill
+tak a pail o' meal an' water.
+
+"'Fee; a'm no wantin' yir fees, man; wi' that boxy ye dinna need a
+doctor; na, na, gie yir siller tae some puir body, Maister Hopps,' an'
+he was doon the road as hard as he cud lick."
+
+His fees were pretty much what the folk chose to give him, and he
+collected them once a year at Kildrummie fair.
+
+"Well, doctor, what am a' awin' ye for the wife and bairn? Ye 'ill need
+three notes for that nicht ye stayed in the hoose an' a' the veesits."
+
+"Havers," MacLure would answer, "prices are low, a'm hearing; gie's
+thirty shillings."
+
+"No, a'll no, or the wife 'ill tak ma ears off," and it was settled for
+two pounds. Lord Kilspindie gave him a free house and fields, and one
+way or other, Drumsheugh told me, the doctor might get in about L150.
+a year, out of which he had to pay his old housekeeper's wages and a
+boy's, and keep two horses, besides the cost of instruments and books,
+which he bought through a friend in Edinburgh with much judgment.
+
+There was only one man who ever complained of the doctor's charges, and
+that was the new farmer of Milton, who was so good that he was above
+both churches, and held a meeting in his barn. (It was Milton the Glen
+supposed at first to be a Mormon, but I can't go into that now.) He
+offered MacLure a pound less than he asked, and two tracts, whereupon
+MacLure expressed his opinion of Milton, both from a theological and
+social standpoint, with such vigor and frankness that an attentive
+audience of Drumtochty men could hardly contain themselves. Jamie Soutar
+was selling his pig at the time, and missed the meeting, but he hastened
+to condole with Milton, who was complaining everywhere of the doctor's
+language.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Ye did richt tae resist him; it 'ill maybe roose the Glen tae mak a
+stand; he fair hands them in bondage.
+
+"Thirty shillings for twal veesits, and him no mair than seeven mile
+awa, an' a'm telt there werena mair than four at nicht.
+
+"Ye 'ill hae the sympathy o' the Glen, for a' body kens yir as free wi'
+yir siller as yir tracts.
+
+"Wes't 'Beware o' gude warks' ye offered him? Man, ye 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 warld
+or that which is tae come."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                      THROUGH THE FLOOD.
+
+
+II
+
+THROUGH THE FLOOD
+
+
+Doctor MacLure did not lead a solemn procession from the sick bed to
+the dining-room, and give his opinion from the hearthrug with an air of
+wisdom bordering on the supernatural, because neither the Drumtochty
+houses nor his manners were on that large scale. He was accustomed to
+deliver himself in the yard, and to conclude his directions with one
+foot in the stirrup; but when he left the room where the life of Annie
+Mitchell was ebbing slowly away, our doctor said not one word, and at
+the sight of his face her husband's heart was troubled.
+
+He was a dull man, Tammas, who could not read the meaning of a sign, and
+labored under a perpetual disability of speech; but love was eyes to him
+that day, and a mouth.
+
+"Is't as bad as yir lookin', doctor? tell's the truth; wull Annie no
+come through?" and Tammas looked MacLure straight in the face, who never
+flinched his duty or said smooth things.
+
+"A' wud gie onything tae say Annie hes a chance, but a' daurna; a' doot
+yir gaein' tae lose her, Tammas."
+
+MacLure was in the saddle, and as he gave his judgment, he laid his hand
+on Tammas's shoulder with one of the rare caresses that pass between
+men.
+
+[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 would
+have crushed the bones of a weakling. Drumtochty felt in such moments
+the brotherliness of this rough-looking man, and loved him.
+
+Tammas hid his face in Jess's mane, who looked round with sorrow in her
+beautiful eyes, for she had seen many tragedies, and in this silent
+sympathy the stricken man drank his cup, drop by drop.
+
+"A' wesna prepared for this, for a' aye thocht she wud live the
+langest.... She's younger than me by ten years, and never wes ill....
+We've been mairit twal year laist Martinmas, but it's juist like a year
+the day... A' wes never worthy o' her, the bonniest, snoddest (neatest),
+kindliest lass in the Glen.... A' never cud mak oot hoo she ever lookit
+at me, 'at hesna hed ae word tae say aboot her till it's ower late....
+She didna cuist up tae me that a' wesna worthy o' her, no her, but aye
+she said, 'Yir ma ain gudeman, and nane cud be kinder tae me.' ... An'
+a' wes minded tae be kind, but a' see noo mony little trokes a' micht
+hae dune for her, and noo the time is bye.... Naebody kens hoo patient
+she wes wi' me, and aye made the best o 'me, an' never pit me tae shame
+afore the fouk.... An' we never hed ae cross word, no ane in twal
+year.... We were mair nor man and wife, we were sweethearts a' the
+time.... Oh, ma bonnie lass, what 'ill the bairnies an' me dae withoot
+ye, 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 wrestled
+with his sorrow dry-eyed, for tears were denied Drumtochty men. Neither
+the doctor nor Jess moved hand or  foot, but their hearts were with
+their fellow creature, and at length the doctor made a sign to Marget
+Howe, 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 if
+Annie an' you hed never luved. Neither death nor time can pairt them
+that luve; there's naethin' in a' the warld sae strong as luve. If Annie
+gaes frae the 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 her
+nicht 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 in
+Drumtochty."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Thank ye kindly, Marget; thae are gude words and true, an' ye hev the
+richt tae say them; but a' canna dae without seem' Annie comin' tae meet
+me 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 nae
+Annie in the hoose.
+
+"Can naethin' be dune, doctor? Ye savit Flora Cammil, and young
+Burnbrae, an' yon shepherd's wife Dunleith wy, an' we were a sae prood
+o' ye, an' pleased tae think that ye hed keepit deith frae anither hame.
+Can ye no think o' somethin' tae help Annie, and gie her back tae her
+man and bairnies?" and Tammas searched the doctor's face in the cold,
+weird light.
+
+"There's nae pooer on heaven or airth like luve," Marget said to me
+afterwards; it maks the weak strong and the dumb tae speak. Oor herts
+were as water afore Tammas's words, an' a' saw the doctor shake in his
+saddle. A' never kent till that meenut hoo he hed a share in a'body's
+grief, an' carried the heaviest wecht o' a' the Glen. A' peetied him wi'
+Tammas lookin' at him sae wistfully, as if he hed the keys o' life an'
+deith in his hands. But he wes honest, and wudna hold oot a false houp
+tae deceive a sore hert or win escape for 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 the
+warld, 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 an
+orphan, an' nae man wes better pleased when she got a gude husband, and
+a' helpit her wi' her fower bairns. A've naither wife nor bairns o' ma
+own, an' a' coont a' the fouk o' the Glen ma family. Div ye think a'
+wudna save Annie if I cud? If there wes a man in Muirtown 'at cud dae
+mair for her, a'd have him this verra nicht, but a' the doctors in
+Perthshire are helpless for this tribble.
+
+"Tammas, ma puir fallow, if it could avail, a' tell ye a' wud lay doon
+this auld worn-oot ruckle o' a body o' mine juist tae see ye baith
+sittin' at the fireside, an' the bairns roond ye, couthy an' canty
+again; but it's no tae be, Tammas, it's no tae be."
+
+"When a' lookit at the doctor's face," Marget said, "a' thocht him the
+winsomest man a' ever saw. He was transfigured that nicht, for a'm
+judging 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'm
+no ungratefu' tae you, doctor, for a' ye've dune and what ye said the
+nicht," 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 skill
+that came of long experience, and the doctor held converse with her
+according to his wont.
+
+"Eh, Jess wumman, yon wes the hardest wark a' hae tae face, and a' wud
+raither hae ta'en ma chance o' anither row in a Glen Urtach drift than
+tell Tammas Mitchell his wife wes deein'.
+
+"A' said she cudna be cured, and it wes true, for there's juist ae man
+in the land fit for't, and they micht as weel try tae get the mune oot
+o' heaven. Sae a' said naethin' tae vex Tammas's hert, for it's heavy
+eneuch withoot regrets.
+
+"But it's hard, Jess, that money wull buy life after a', an' if Annie
+wes a duchess her man wudna lose her; but bein' only a puir cottar's
+wife, she maun dee afore the week's oot.
+
+"Gin we hed him the morn there's little doot she would be saved, for he
+hesna lost mair than five per cent, o' his cases, and they 'ill be puir
+toon's craturs, no strappin women like Annie.
+
+[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 a
+heavy day. But it wud be the grandest thing that was ever dune in the
+Glen in oor time if it could be managed by hook or crook.
+
+"We 'ill gang and see Drumsheugh, Jess; he's anither man sin' Geordie
+Hoo's deith, and he wes aye kinder than fouk kent;" and the doctor
+passed at a gallop through the village, whose lights shone across the
+white frost-bound road.
+
+"Come in by, doctor; a' heard ye on the road; ye 'ill hae been at Tammas
+Mitchell's; hoo's the gudewife? a' doot she's sober."
+
+"Annie's deein', Drumsheugh, an' Tammas is like tae brak his hert."
+
+"That's no lichtsome, doctor, no lichtsome ava, for a' dinna ken ony
+man in Drumtochty sae bund up in his wife as Tammas, and there's no
+a bonnier wumman o' her age crosses our kirk door than Annie, nor a
+cleverer at her wark. Man, ye 'ill need tae pit yir brains in steep. Is
+she clean beyond ye?"
+
+"Beyond me and every ither in the land but ane, and it wud cost a
+hundred guineas tae bring him tae Drumtochty."
+
+[Illustration: ]
+
+"Certes, he's no blate; it's a fell chairge for a short day's work; but
+hundred or no hundred we'll hae him, an' no let Annie gang, and her no
+half her years."
+
+"Are ye meanin' it, Drumsheugh?" and MacLure turned white below the tan.
+"William MacLure," said Drumsheugh, in one of the few confidences that
+ever broke the Drumtochty reserve, "a'm a lonely man, wi' naebody o' ma
+ain blude tae care for me livin', or tae lift me intae ma coffin when
+a'm deid.
+
+"A' fecht awa at Muirtown market for an extra pound on a beast, or a
+shillin' on the quarter o' barley, an' what's the gude o't? Burnbrae
+gaes aff tae get a goon for his wife or a buke for his college laddie,
+an' Lachlan Campbell 'ill no leave the place noo without a ribbon for
+Flora.
+
+"Ilka man in the Klldrummie train has some bit fairin' his pooch for the
+fouk at hame that he's bocht wi' the siller he won.
+
+"But there's naebody tae be lookin' oot for me, an' comin' doon the road
+tae meet me, and daffin' (joking) wi' me about their fairing, or feeling
+ma pockets. Ou ay, a've seen it a' at ither hooses, though they tried
+tae hide it frae me for fear a' wud lauch at them. Me lauch, wi' ma
+cauld, empty hame!
+
+"Yir the only man kens, Weelum, that I aince luved the noblest wumman in
+the glen or onywhere, an' a' luve her still, but wi' anither luve noo.
+
+"She had given her heart tae anither, or a've thocht a' micht hae
+won her, though nae man be worthy o' sic a gift. Ma hert turned tae
+bitterness, but that passed awa beside the brier bush whar George Hoo
+lay yon sad simmer time. Some day a'll tell ye ma story, Weelum, for you
+an' me are auld freends, and will be till we dee."
+
+MacLure felt beneath the table for Drumsheugh's hand, but neither man
+looked at the other.
+
+"Weel, a' we can dae noo, Weelum, gin we haena mickle brichtness in oor
+ain names, is tae keep the licht frae gaein' oot in anither hoose. Write
+the telegram, man, and Sandy  'ill send it aff frae Kildrummie this
+verra 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't
+a'--but a' haena mony pleasures, an' a' wud like tae hae ma ain share in
+savin' Annie's life."
+
+Next morning a figure received Sir George on the Kildrummie platform,
+whom that famous surgeon took for a gillie, but who introduced himself
+as "MacLure of Drumtochty." It seemed as if the East had come to meet
+the West when these two stood together, the one in travelling furs,
+handsome and distinguished, with his strong, cultured face and carriage
+of authority, a characteristic type of his profession; and the other
+more marvellously dressed than ever, for Drumsheugh's topcoat had been
+forced upon him for the occasion, his face and neck one redness with the
+bitter cold; rough and ungainly, yet not without some signs of power in
+his eye and voice, the most heroic type of his noble profession. MacLure
+compassed the precious arrival with observances till he was securely
+seated in Drumsheugh's dog cart--a vehicle that lent itself to
+history--with two full-sized plaids added to his equipment--Drumsheugh
+and Hillocks had both been requisitioned--and MacLure wrapped another
+plaid round a leather case, which was placed below the seat with such
+reverence as might be given to the Queen's regalia. Peter attended their
+departure full of interest, and as soon as they were in the fir woods
+MacLure explained that it would be an eventful journey.
+
+"It's a richt in here, for the wind disna get at the snaw, but the
+drifts are deep in the Glen, and th'ill be some engineerin' afore we get
+tae oor destination."
+
+Four times they left the road and took their way over fields, twice they
+forced a passage through a slap in a dyke, thrice they used gaps in the
+paling which MacLure had made on his downward journey.
+
+[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 we
+daurna venture on it, sae we hev tae ford, and the snaw's been
+melting up Urtach way. There's nae doot the water's gey big, and it's
+threatenin' tae rise, but we 'ill win through wi' a warstle.
+
+"It micht be safer tae lift the instruments oot o' reach o' the water;
+wud ye mind haddin' them on yir knee till we're ower, an' keep firm in
+yir seat in case we come on a stane in the bed o' the river."
+
+By this time they had come to the edge, and it was not a cheering sight.
+The Tochty had spread out over the meadows, and while they waited they
+could see it cover another two inches on the trunk of a tree. There are
+summer floods, when the water is brown and flecked with foam, but this
+was a winter flood, which is black and sullen, and runs in the centre
+with a strong, fierce, silent current. Upon the opposite side
+Hillocks stood to give directions by word and hand, as the ford was
+on his land, and none knew the Tochty better in all its ways.
+
+[Illustration: "THEY PASSED THROUGH THE SHALLOW WATER WITHOUT MISHAP"]
+
+They passed through the shallow water without mishap, save when the
+wheel struck a hidden stone or fell suddenly into a rut; but when they
+neared the body of the river MacLure halted, to give Jess a minute's
+breathing.
+
+"It 'ill tak ye a' yir time, lass, an' a' wud raither be on yir back;
+but ye never failed me yet, and a wumman's life is hangin' on the
+crossin'."
+
+With the first plunge into the bed of the stream the water rose to the
+axles, and then it crept up to the shafts, so that the surgeon could
+feel it lapping in about his feet, while the dogcart began to quiver,
+and it seemed as if it were to be carried away. Sir George was as brave
+as most men, but he had never forded a Highland river in flood, and the
+mass of black water racing past beneath, before, behind him, affected
+his imagination and shook his nerves. He rose from his seat and ordered
+MacLure to turn back, declaring that he would be condemned utterly and
+eternally if he allowed himself to be drowned for any person.
+
+"Sit doon," thundered MacLure; "condemned ye will be suner or later gin
+ye shirk yir duty, but through the water ye gang the day."
+
+Both men spoke much more strongly and shortly, but this is what they
+intended to say, and it was MacLure that prevailed.
+
+Jess trailed her feet along the ground with cunning art, and held her
+shoulder against the stream; MacLure leant forward in his seat, a rein
+in each hand, and his eyes fixed on Hillocks, who was now standing up to
+the waist in the water, shouting directions and cheering on horse and
+driver.
+
+"Haud tae the richt, doctor; there's a hole yonder. Keep oot o't for ony
+sake. 
+
+[Illustration: "A HEAP OF SPEECHLESS MISERY BY THE KITCHEN FIRE."]
+
+That's  heap of speechless misery by the kitchen fire, and carried
+him off to the barn, and spread some corn on the threshing floor and
+thrust a flail into his hands.
+
+"Noo we've tae begin, an' we 'ill no be dune for an' oor, and ye've tae
+lay on withoot stoppin' till a' come for ye, an' a'll shut the door tae
+haud in the noise, an' keep yir dog beside ye, for there maunna be a
+cheep aboot the hoose for Annie's sake."
+
+"A'll dae onything ye want me, but if--if--"
+
+"A'll come for ye, Tammas, gin there be danger; but what are ye feared
+for wi' the Queen's ain surgeon here?"
+
+Fifty minutes did the flail rise and fall, save twice, when Tammas crept
+to the door and listened, the dog lifting his head and whining.
+
+It seemed twelve hours instead of one when the door swung back, and
+MacLure filled the  doorway, preceded by a great burst of light, for the
+sun had arisen on the snow.
+
+[Illustration: "MA AIN DEAR MAN"]
+
+His face was as tidings of great joy, and Elspeth told me that there was
+nothing like it to be seen that afternoon for glory, save the sun itself
+in the heavens.
+
+"A' never saw the marrow o't, Tammas, an' a'll never see the like again;
+it's a' ower, man, withoot a hitch frae beginnin' tae end, and she's
+fa'in' asleep as fine as ye like."
+
+"Dis he think Annie ... 'ill live?"
+
+"Of coorse he dis, and be aboot the hoose inside a month; that's the gud
+o' bein' a clean-bluided, weel-livin'----"
+
+"Preserve ye, man, what's wrang wi' ye? it's a mercy a' keppit ye, or we
+wud hev hed anither job for Sir George.
+
+"Ye're a richt noo; sit doon on the strae. A'll come back in a whilie,
+an' ye 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 his
+lifetime to Tammas, but Annie whispered, "Ma ain dear man."
+
+When the doctor placed the precious bag beside Sir George in our
+solitary first next morning, he laid a cheque beside it and was about to
+leave.
+
+"No, no," said the great man. "Mrs. Macfayden and I were on the gossip
+last night, and I know the whole story about you and your friend.
+
+"You have some right to call me a coward, but I'll never let you count
+me a mean, miserly rascal," and the cheque with Drumsheugh's painful
+writing 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 all
+the station heard.  "Give's another shake of your hand, MacLure; I'm
+proud to have met you; you are an honor to our profession. Mind the
+antiseptic dressings."
+
+It was market day, but only Jamie Soutar and Hillocks had ventured down.
+
+"Did ye hear yon, Hillocks? hoo dae ye feel? A'll no deny a'm lifted."
+
+Halfway to the Junction Hillocks had recovered, and began to grasp the
+situation.
+
+"Tell's what he said. A' wud like to hae it exact for Drumsheugh."
+
+"Thae's the eedentical words, an' they're true; there's no a man in
+Drumtochty disna ken that, except ane."
+
+"An' wha's thar, Jamie?"
+
+"It's Weelum MacLure himsel. Man, a've often girned that he sud fecht
+awa for us a', and maybe dee before he kent that he hed githered mair
+luve than ony man in the Glen.
+
+"'A'm prood tae hae met ye', says Sir George, an' him the greatest
+doctor in the land. 'Yir an 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 London
+doctor at Lord Kilspindie's shooting lodge looked in on his way from the
+moor, and declared it impossible for Saunders to live through the night.
+
+"I give him six hours, more or less; it is only a question of time,"
+said the oracle, 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 to
+consolation.
+
+"Dinna greet like that, Bell wumman, sae lang as Saunders is still
+living'; a'll never give up houp, for ma pairt, till oor ain man says
+the word.
+
+"A' the doctors in the land dinna ken as muckle aboot us as Weelum
+MacLure, an' he's ill tae beat when he's trying tae save a man's life."
+
+MacLure, on his coming, would say nothing, either weal or woe, till he
+had examined Saunders. Suddenly his face turned into iron before their
+eyes, and he looked like one encountering a merciless foe. For there was
+a feud between MacLure and a certain mighty power which had lasted for
+forty years in Drumtochty.
+
+[Illustration: "GAVE WAY UTTERLY"]
+
+"The London doctor said that Saunders wud sough awa afore mornin', did
+he? Weel, he's an authority on fevers an' sic like diseases, an' ought
+tae ken.
+
+"It's may be presumptous o' me tae differ frae him, and it wudna be
+verra respectfu' o' Saunders tae live aifter this opeenion. But Saunders
+wes awe thraun an' ill tae drive, an' he's as like as no tae gang his
+own gait.
+
+"A'm no meanin' tae reflect on sae clever a man, but he didna ken the
+seetuation. He can read fevers like a buik, but he never cam across sic
+a thing as the Drumtochty constitution a' his days.
+
+"Ye see, when onybody gets as low as puir Saunders here, it's juist
+a hand to hand wrastle atween the fever and his constitution, an' of
+coorse, if he had been a shilpit, stuntit, feckless effeegy o' a cratur,
+fed on tea an' made dishes and pushioned wi' bad air, Saunders wud hae
+nae chance; he wes boond tae gae oot like the snuff o' a candle.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"But Saunders hes been fillin' his lungs for five and thirty year wi'
+strong Drumtochty air, an' eatin' naethin' but kirny aitmeal, and
+drinkin' naethin' but fresh milk frae the coo, an' followin' the ploo
+through the new-turned sweet-smellin' earth, an' swingin' the scythe in
+haytime and harvest, till the legs an' airms o' him were iron, an' his
+chest wes like the cuttin' o' an oak tree.
+
+"He's a waesome sicht the nicht, but Saunders wes a buirdly man aince,
+and wull never lat his life be taken lichtly frae him. Na, na, he hesna
+sinned against Nature, and Nature 'ill stand by him noo in his oor o'
+distress.
+
+"A' daurna say yea, Bell, muckle as a' wud like, for this is an evil
+disease, cunnin, an' treacherous as the deevil himsel', but a' winna say
+nay, sae keep yir hert frae despair.
+
+"It wull be a sair fecht, but it 'ill be settled one wy or anither by
+sax o'clock the morn's morn. Nae man can prophecee hoo it 'ill end, but
+ae thing is certain, a'll no see deith tak a Drumtochty man afore his
+time if a' can help it.
+
+"Noo, Bell ma wumman, yir near deid wi' tire, an' nae wonder. Ye've dune
+a' ye cud for yir man, an' ye'll lippen (trust) him the nicht tae
+Drumsheugh an' me; we 'ill no fail him or you.
+
+"Lie doon an' rest, an' if it be the wull o' the Almichty a'll wauken ye
+in the mornin' tae see a livin' conscious man, an' if it be ither-wise
+a'll come for ye the suner, Bell," and the big red hand went out to the
+anxious wife. "A' gie ye ma word."
+
+Bell leant over the bed, and at the sight of Saunders' face a
+superstitious dread seized her.
+
+"See, doctor, the shadow of deith is on him that never lifts. A've seen
+it afore, on ma father an' mither. A' canna leave him, a' canna leave
+him."
+
+[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 need
+tae be nurse the nicht, an' use sic things as we hev.
+
+"It 'ill be a lang nicht and anxious wark, but a' wud raither hae ye,
+auld freend, wi' me than ony man in the Glen. Ye're no feared tae gie a
+hand?"
+
+"Me feared? No, likely. Man, Saunders cam tae me a haflin, and hes been
+on Drumsheugh for twenty years, an' though he be a dour chiel, he's a
+faithfu' servant as ever lived. It's waesome tae see him lyin' there
+moanin' like some dumb animal frae mornin' tae nicht, an' no able tae
+answer his ain wife when she speaks.
+
+"Div ye think, Weelum, he hes a chance?"
+
+"That he hes, at ony rate, and it 'ill no be your blame or mine if he
+hesna mair."
+
+While he was speaking, MacLure took off his coat and waistcoat and hung
+them on the back of the door. Then he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt
+and laid bare two arms that were nothing but bone and muscle.
+
+"It gar'd ma very blood rin faster tae the end of ma fingers juist tae
+look at him," Drumsheugh expatiated afterwards to Hillocks, "for a' saw
+noo that there was tae be a stand-up fecht atween him an' deith for
+Saunders, and when a' thocht o' Bell an' her bairns, a' kent wha wud
+win.
+
+"'Aff wi' yir coat, Drumsheugh,' said MacLure; 'ye 'ill need tae bend
+yir back the nicht; gither a' the pails in the hoose and fill them at
+the spring, an' a'll come doon tae help ye wi' the carryin'.'"
+
+It was a wonderful ascent up the steep pathway from the spring to the
+cottage on its little knoll, the two men in single file, bareheaded,
+silent, solemn, each with a pail of water in either hand, MacLure
+limping painfully in front, Drumsheugh blowing behind; and when they
+laid down their burden in the sick room, where the bits of furniture had
+been put to a side and a large tub held the centre, Drumsheugh looked
+curiously at the doctor.
+
+[Illustration.]
+
+"No, a'm no daft; ye needna be feared; but yir tae get yir first lesson
+in medicine the nicht, an' if we win the battle ye can set up for yersel
+in the Glen.
+
+"There's twa dangers--that Saunders' strength fails, an' that the force
+o' the fever grows; and we have juist twa weapons.
+
+"Yon milk on the drawers' head an' the bottle of whisky is tae keep up
+the strength, and this cool caller water is tae keep doon the fever.
+
+"We 'ill cast oot the fever by the virtue o' the earth an' the water."
+
+"Div ye mean tae pit Saunders in the tub?"
+
+"Ye hiv it noo, Drumsheugh, and that's hoo a' need yir help."
+
+"Man, Hillocks," Drumsheugh used to moralize, as often as he remembered
+that critical night, "it wes humblin' tae see hoo low sickness can bring
+a pooerfu' man, an' ocht tae keep us frae pride."
+
+"A month syne there wesna a stronger man in the Glen than Saunders, an'
+noo he wes juist a bundle o' skin and bone, that naither saw nor heard,
+nor moved nor felt, that kent naethin' that was dune tae him.
+
+"Hillocks, a' wudna hae wished ony man tae hev seen Saunders--for it
+wull never pass frae before ma een as long as a' live--but a' wish a'
+the Glen hed stude by MacLure kneelin' on the floor wi' his sleeves up
+tae his oxters and waitin' on Saunders.
+
+"Yon big man wes as pitifu' an' gentle as a wumman, and when he laid the
+puir fallow in his bed again, he happit him ower as a mither dis her
+bairn."
+
+Thrice it was done, Drumsheugh ever bringing up colder water from the
+spring, and twice MacLure was silent; but after the third time there was
+a gleam in his eye.
+
+"We're haudin' oor ain; we're no bein' maistered, at ony rate; mair a'
+canna say for three oors.
+
+"We 'ill no need the water again, Drumsheugh; gae oot and tak a breath
+o' air; a'm on gaird masel."
+
+It was the hour before daybreak, and Drumsheugh wandered through fields
+he had trodden since childhood. The cattle lay sleeping in the pastures;
+their shadowy forms, with a patch of whiteness here and there, having a
+weird suggestion of death. He heard the burn running over the stones;
+fifty years ago he had made a dam that lasted till winter. The hooting
+of an owl made him start; one had frightened him as a boy so that he ran
+home to his mother--she died thirty years ago. The smell of ripe corn
+filled the air; it would soon be cut and garnered. He could see the dim
+outlines of his house, all dark and cold; no one he loved was beneath
+the roof. The lighted window in Saunders' cottage told where a man hung
+between life and death, but love was in that home. The futility of life
+arose before this lonely man, and overcame his heart with an
+indescribable sadness. What a vanity was all human labour, what a
+mystery all human life.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+But while he stood, subtle change came over the night, and the air
+trembled round him as if one had whispered. Drumsheugh lifted his head
+and looked eastwards. A faint grey stole over the distant horizon, and
+suddenly a cloud reddened before his eyes. The sun was not in sight, but
+was rising, and sending forerunners before his face. The cattle began
+to stir, a blackbird burst into song, and before Drumsheugh crossed the
+threshold of Saunders' house, the first ray of the sun had broken on a
+peak of the Grampians.
+
+MacLure left the bedside, and as the light of the candle fell on
+the doctor's face, Drumsheugh could see that it was going well with
+Saunders.
+
+"He's nae waur; an' it's half six noo; it's ower sune tae say mair, but
+a'm houpin' for the best. Sit doon and take a sleep, for ye're needin'
+'t, Drumsheugh, an', man, ye hae worked for it."
+
+As he dozed off, the last thing Drumsheugh saw was the doctor sitting
+erect in his chair, a clenched fist resting on the bed, and his eyes
+already bright with the vision of victory.
+
+He awoke with a start to find the room flooded with the morning
+sunshine, and every trace of last night's work removed.
+
+The doctor was bending over the bed, and speaking to Saunders.
+
+"It's me, Saunders, Doctor MacLure, ye ken; dinna try tae speak or move;
+juist let this drap milk slip ower--ye 'ill be needin' yir breakfast,
+lad--and gang tae sleep again."
+
+[Illustration: "A CLENCHED FIST RESTING ON THE BED"]
+
+Five minutes, and Saunders had fallen into a deep, healthy sleep, all
+tossing and moaning come to an end. Then MacLure stepped softly across
+the floor, picked up his coat and waistcoat, and went out at the door.
+Drumsheugh arose and followed him without a word. They passed through
+the little garden, sparkling with dew, and beside the byre, where Hawkie
+rattled her chain, impatient for Bell's coming, and by Saunders' little
+strip of corn ready for the scythe, till they reached an open field.
+There they came to a halt, and Doctor MacLure for once allowed himself
+to go.
+
+His coat he flung east and his waistcoat west, as far as he could hurl
+them, and it was plain he would have shouted had he been a complete mile
+from Saunders' room. Any less distance was useless for the adequate
+expression. He struck Drumsheugh a mighty blow that well-nigh levelled
+that substantial man in the dust and then the doctor of Drumtochty
+issued his bulletin.
+
+"Saunders wesna tae live through the nicht, but he's livin' this meenut,
+an' like to live.
+
+"He's got by the warst clean and fair, and wi' him that's as good as
+cure.
+
+"It' ill be a graund waukenin' for Bell; she 'ill no be a weedow yet,
+nor the bairnies fatherless.
+
+"There's nae use glowerin' at me, Drumsheugh, for a body's daft at a
+time, an' a' canna contain masel' and a'm no gaein' tae try."
+
+Then it dawned on Drumsheugh that the doctor was attempting the Highland
+fling.
+
+"He's 'ill made tae begin wi'," Drumsheugh explained in the kirkyard
+next Sabbath, "and ye ken he's been terrible mishannelled by accidents,
+sae ye may think what like it wes, but, as sure as deith, o' a' the
+Hielan flings a' ever saw yon wes the bonniest.
+
+"A' hevna shaken ma ain legs for thirty years, but a' confess tae a turn
+masel. Ye may lauch an' ye like, neeburs, but the thocht o' Bell an'
+the news that wes waitin' her got the better o' me."
+
+"THE DOCTOR WAS ATTEMPTING THE HIGHLAND FLING"
+
+Drumtochty did not laugh. Drumtochty looked as if it could have done
+quite 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 a
+michty mornin'."
+
+"'We're twa auld fules,' says MacLure tae me, and he gaithers up his
+claithes. 'It wud set us better tae be tellin' Bell.'
+
+"She wes sleepin' on the top o' her bed wrapped in a plaid, fair worn
+oot wi' three weeks' nursin' o' Saunders, but at the first touch she was
+oot upon the floor.
+
+"'Is Saunders deein', doctor?' she cries. 'Ye promised tae wauken me;
+dinna tell me it's a' ower.'
+
+"'There's nae deein' aboot him, Bell; ye're no tae lose yir man this
+time, sae far as a' can see. Come ben an' jidge for yersel'.'
+
+"Bell lookit at Saunders, and the tears of joy fell on the bed like
+rain.
+
+"'The shadow's lifted,' she said; 'he's come back frae the mooth o' the
+tomb.
+
+"'A' prayed last nicht that the Lord wud leave Saunders till the laddies
+cud dae for themselves, an' thae words came intae ma mind, 'Weepin' may
+endure for a nicht, but joy cometh in the mornin'."
+
+"'The Lord heard ma prayer, and joy hes come in the mornin',' an' she
+gripped the doctor's hand.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"'Ye've been the instrument, Doctor MacLure. Ye wudna gie him up, and ye
+did what nae ither cud for him, an' a've ma man the day, and the bairns
+hae their father.'
+
+"An' afore MacLure kent what she was daein', Bell lifted his hand to her
+lips an' kissed it."
+
+"Did she, though?" cried Jamie. "Wha wud hae thocht there wes as muckle
+spunk in Bell?"
+
+"MacLure, of coorse, was clean 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' sic
+a thing in the parish, but we maun excuse Bell, neeburs; it wes an
+occasion by ordinar," and Drumsheugh made Bell's apology to Drumtochty
+for such an excess of feeling.
+
+"A' see naethin' tae excuse," insisted Jamie, who was in great fettle
+that Sabbath; "the doctor hes never been burdened wi' fees, and a'm
+judgin' he coonted a wumman's gratitude that he saved frae weedowhood
+the 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 telt
+the minister hoo the doctor focht aucht oors for Saunders' life, an'
+won, and ye never saw a man sae carried. He walkit up and doon the room
+a' the time, and every other meenut he blew his nose like a trumpet.
+
+"'I've a cold in my head to-night, Drumsheugh,' says he; 'never mind
+me.'"
+
+"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 for
+good, and that Thou wouldst restore them again to health and strength,"
+was the familiar petition of every Sabbath.
+
+The congregation waited in a silence that might be heard, and were not
+disappointed that morning, for the minister continued:
+
+"Especially we tender Thee hearty thanks that Thou didst spare Thy
+servant who was brought down into the dust of death, and hast given him
+back to his wife and children, and unto that end didst wonderfully bless
+the skill of him who goes out and in amongst us, the beloved physician
+of this parish and adjacent districts."
+
+"Didna a' tell ye, neeburs?" said Jamie, as they stood at the kirkyard
+gate before dispersing; "there's no a man in the coonty cud hae dune
+it better. 'Beloved physician,' an' his 'skill,' tae, an' bringing in
+'adjacent districts'; that's Glen Urtach; it wes handsome, and the
+doctor earned it, ay, every word.
+
+"It's an awfu' peety he didna hear yon; but dear knows whar he is the
+day, maist likely up--"
+
+Jamie stopped suddenly at the sound of a horse's feet, and there, coming
+down the avenue of beech trees that made a long vista from the kirk
+gate, they saw the doctor and Jess.
+
+One thought flashed through the minds of the fathers of the
+commonwealth.
+
+It ought to be done as he passed, and it would be done if it were not
+Sabbath. Of course it was out of the question on Sabbath.
+
+The doctor is now distinctly visible, riding after his fashion.
+
+There was never such a chance, if it were only Saturday; and each man
+reads his own regret in his neighbor's face.
+
+The doctor is nearing them rapidly; they can imagine the shepherd's
+tartan.
+
+Sabbath or no Sabbath, the Glen cannot let him pass without some tribute
+of their pride.
+
+Jess 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, but
+Tammas Mitchell carrying all before him, for he had found at last an
+expression for his feelings that rendered speech unnecessary.
+
+It was a solitary experience for horse and rider, and Jess bolted
+without delay. But the sound followed and surrounded them, and as they
+passed the corner of the kirkyard, a figure waved his college cap over
+the wall and gave a cheer on his own account.
+
+"God bless you, doctor, and well done."
+
+"If it isna the minister," cried Drumsheugh, "in his goon an' bans, tae
+think o' that; but a' respeck him for it."
+
+Then Drumtochty became self-conscious, and went home in confusion of
+face and unbroken silence, except Jamie Soutar, who faced his neighbors
+at the parting of the ways without shame.
+
+"A' wud dae it a' ower again if a' hed the chance; he got naethin' but
+his due." It was two miles before Jess composed her mind, and the doctor
+and she could discuss it quietly together.
+
+"A' can hardly believe ma ears, Jess, an' the Sabbath tae; their verra
+jidgment hes gane frae the fouk o' Drumtochty.
+
+"They've heard about Saunders, a'm thinkin', wumman, and they're pleased
+we brocht him roond; he's fairly on the mend, ye ken, noo.
+
+"A' never expeckit the like o' this, though, and it wes juist a wee
+thingie mair than a' cud hae stude.
+
+"Ye hev yir share in't tae, lass; we've hed mony a hard nicht and day
+thegither, an' yon wes oor reward. No mony men in this warld 'ill ever
+get a better, for it cam frae the hert o' honest fouk."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                    THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY.
+
+
+IV
+
+THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY
+
+Drumtochty had a vivid recollection of the winter when Dr. MacLure was
+laid up for two months with a broken leg, and the Glen was dependent on
+the dubious ministrations of the Kildrummie doctor. Mrs. Macfayden
+also pretended to recall a "whup" of some kind or other he had in the
+fifties, but this was considered to be rather a pyrotechnic display of
+Elspeth's superior memory than a serious statement of fact. MacLure
+could not have ridden through the snow of forty winters without
+suffering, yet no one ever heard him complain, and he never pled
+illness to any messenger by night or day.
+
+"It took me," said Jamie Soutar to Milton afterwards, "the feck o' ten
+meenuts tae howk him 'an' Jess oot ae snawy nicht when Drums turned bad
+sudden, and if he didna try to excuse himself for no hearing me at aince
+wi' some story aboot juist comin' in frae Glen Urtach, and no bein' in
+his bed for the laist twa nichts.
+
+"He wes that carefu' o' himsel an' lazy that if it hedna been for the
+siller, a've often thocht, Milton, he wud never hae dune a handstroke o'
+wark in the Glen.
+
+"What scunnered me wes the wy the bairns were ta'en in wi' him. Man,
+a've seen him tak a wee laddie on his knee that his ain mither cudna
+quiet, an' lilt 'Sing a song o' saxpence' till the bit mannie would be
+lauchin' 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' hoo
+he aye hed a couthy word for sick fouk. Weemen hae nae discernment,
+Milton; tae hear them speak ye wud think MacLure hed been a releegious
+man like yersel, although, as ye said, he wes little mair than a Gallio.
+
+"Bell Baxter was haverin' awa in the shop tae sic an extent aboot the wy
+MacLure brocht roond Saunders when he hed the fever that a' gied oot at
+the door, a' wes that disgusted, an' a'm telt when Tammas Mitchell heard
+the news in the smiddy he wes juist on the greeting.
+
+"The smith said that he wes thinkin' o' Annie's tribble, but ony wy a'
+ca' it rael bairnly. It's no like Drumtochty; ye're setting an example,
+Milton, wi' yir composure. But a' mind ye took the doctor's meesure as
+sune as ye cam intae the pairish."
+
+It is the penalty of a cynic that he must have some relief for his
+secret grief, and Milton began to weary of life in Jamie's hands
+during those days.
+
+Drumtochty was not observant in the matter of health, but they had grown
+sensitive about Dr. MacLure, and remarked in the kirkyard all summer
+that he was failing.
+
+"He wes aye spare," said Hillocks, "an' he's been sair twisted for the
+laist twenty year, but a' never mind him booed till the year. An' he's
+gaein' intae sma' buke (bulk), an' a' dinna like that, neeburs.
+
+"The Glen wudna dae weel withoot Weelum MacLure, an' he's no as young as
+he wes. Man, Drumsheugh, ye micht wile him aff tae the saut water atween
+the neeps and the hairst. He's been workin' forty year for a holiday,
+an' it's aboot due."
+
+Drumsheugh was full of tact, and met MacLure quite by accident on the
+road.
+
+"Saunders'll no need me till the shearing begins," he explained to the
+doctor, "an' a'm gaein' tae Brochty for a turn o' the hot baths; they're
+fine for the rheumatics.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Wull ye no come wi' me for auld lang syne? it's lonesome for a solitary
+man, an' it wud dae ye gude."
+
+"Na, na, Drumsheugh," said MacLure, who understood perfectly, "a've dune
+a' thae years withoot a break, an' a'm laith (unwilling) tae be takin'
+holidays at the tail end.
+
+"A'll no be mony months wi' ye a' thegither noo, an' a'm wanting tae
+spend a' the time a' hev in the Glen. Ye see yersel that a'll sune be
+getting ma lang rest, an' a'll no deny that a'm wearyin' for it."
+
+As autumn passed into winter, the Glen noticed that the doctor's hair
+had turned grey, and that his manner had lost all its roughness. A
+feeling of secret gratitude filled their hearts, and they united in a
+conspiracy of attention. Annie Mitchell knitted a huge comforter in red
+and white, which the doctor wore in misery for one whole day, out of
+respect for Annie, and then hung it in his sitting-room as a wall
+ornament. Hillocks used to intercept him with hot drinks, and one
+drifting day compelled him to shelter till the storm abated. Flora
+Campbell brought a wonderful compound of honey and whiskey, much tasted
+in Auchindarroch, for his cough, and the mother of young Burnbrae filled
+his cupboard with black jam, as a healing measure. Jamie Soutar seemed
+to have an endless series of jobs in the doctor's direction, and looked
+in "juist tae rest himsel" in the kitchen.
+
+MacLure had been slowly taking in the situation, and at last he
+unburdened himself one night to Jamie.
+
+"What ails the fouk, think ye? for they're aye lecturin' me noo tae
+tak care o' the weet and tae wrap masel up, an' there's no a week but
+they're sendin' bit presents tae the house, till a'm fair ashamed."
+
+"Oo, a'll explain that in a meenut," answered Jamie, "for a' ken the
+Glen 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 dee
+afore their  freends' eyes withoot a fecht, an' refusin' tae gang tae a
+puir wumman in her tribble, an' frichtenin' the bairns--no, a'm no
+dune--and scourgin' us wi' fees, and livin' yersel' on the fat o' the
+land.
+
+"Ye've been carryin' on this trade ever sin yir father dee'd, and the
+Glen didna notis. But ma word, they've fund ye oot at laist, an' they're
+gaein' tae mak ye suffer for a' yir ill usage. Div ye understand noo?"
+said Jamie, savagely.
+
+For a while MacLure was silent, and then he only said:
+
+"It's little a' did for the puir bodies; but ye hev a gude hert, Jamie,
+a rael good hert."
+
+It was a bitter December Sabbath, and the fathers were settling the
+affairs of the parish ankle deep in snow, when MacLure's old housekeeper
+told Drumsheugh that the doctor was not able to rise, and wished to see
+him in the afternoon. "Ay, ay," said Hillocks, shaking his head, and
+that day Drumsheugh omitted four pews with the ladle, while Jamie was so
+vicious on the way home that none could endure him.
+
+Janet had lit a fire in the unused grate, and hung a plaid by the window
+to break the power of the cruel north wind, but the bare room with its
+half-a-dozen bits of furniture and a worn strip of carpet, and the
+outlook upon the snow drifted up to the second pane of the window and
+the black firs laden with their icy burden, sent a chill to Drumsheugh's
+heart.
+
+The doctor had weakened sadly, and could hardly lift his head, but his
+face lit up at the sight of his visitor, and the big hand, which was now
+quite refined in its whiteness, came out from the bed-clothes with the
+old warm grip.
+
+[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, which
+he had not heard since his mother's death, gave him a "grue" (shiver),
+as if one had spoken from the other world.
+
+"It's maist awfu' tae hear ye speakin' aboot deein', Weelum; a' canna
+bear it. We 'ill hae the Muirtown doctor up, an' ye 'ill be aboot again
+in nae time.
+
+"Ye hevna ony sair tribble; ye're juist trachled wi' hard wark an'
+needin' a rest. Dinna say ye're gaein' tae leave us, Weelum; we canna
+dae withoot ye in Drumtochty;" and Drumsheugh looked wistfully for some
+word of hope.
+
+"Na, na, Paitrick, naethin' can be dune, an' it's ower late tae send for
+ony doctor. There's a knock that canna be mista'en, an' a' heard it last
+night. A've focht deith for ither fouk mair than forty year, but ma ain
+time hes come at laist.
+
+"A've nae tribble worth mentionin'--a bit titch o' bronchitis--an' a've
+hed a graund constitution; but a'm fair worn oot, Paitrick; that's ma
+complaint, an' its past curin'."
+
+Drumsheugh went over to the fireplace, and for a while did nothing but
+break up the smouldering peats, whose smoke powerfully affected his nose
+and eyes.
+
+[Illustration: "DRUMSHEUGH LOOKED WISTFULLY"]
+
+"When ye're ready, Paitrick, there's twa or three little trokes a' wud
+like ye tae look aifter, an' a'll tell ye aboot them as lang's ma head's
+clear.
+
+"A' didna keep buiks, as ye ken, for a' aye hed a guid memory, so
+naebody 'ill be harried for money aifter ma deith, and ye 'ill hae nae
+accoonts tae collect.
+
+"But the fouk are honest in Drumtochty, and they 'ill be offerin' ye
+siller, an' a'll gie ye ma mind aboot it. Gin it be a puir body, tell
+her tae keep it and get a bit plaidie wi' the money, and she 'ill maybe
+think o' her auld doctor at a time. Gin it be a bien (well-to-do) man,
+tak half of what he offers, for a Drumtochty man wud scorn to be mean in
+sic circumstances; and if onybody needs a doctor 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 still
+tae 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's
+eyes--"tae say neathin' o' the Highlan' fling."
+
+The remembrance of that great victory came upon Drumsheugh, and tried
+his fortitude.
+
+"What 'ill become o's when ye're no here tae gie a hand in time o' need?
+we 'ill tak ill wi' a stranger that disna ken ane o's frae anither."
+
+"It's a' for the best, Paitrick, an' ye 'ill see that in a whilie. A've
+kent fine that ma day wes ower, an' that ye sud hae a younger man.
+
+"A' did what a' cud tae keep up wi' the new medicine, but a' hed little
+time for readin', an' nane for traivellin'.
+
+"A'm the last o' the auld schule, an' a' ken as weel as onybody thet a'
+wesna sae dainty an' fine-mannered as the town doctors. Ye 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," interrupted
+Drumsheugh, huskily, "a'll leave the hoose; a' canna stand it."
+
+"It's the truth, Paitrick, but we 'ill gae on wi' our wark, far a'm
+failin' fast.
+
+"Gie Janet ony sticks of furniture she needs tae furnish a hoose,
+and sell a' thing else tae pay the wricht (undertaker) an' bedrel
+(grave-digger). If the new doctor be a young laddie and no verra rich,
+ye micht let him hae the buiks an' instruments; it 'ill aye be a help.
+
+"But a' wudna like ye tae sell Jess, for she's been a faithfu' servant,
+an' a freend tae. There's a note or twa in that drawer a' savit, an'
+if ye kent ony man that wud gie her a bite o' grass and a sta' in his
+stable till she followed her maister--'
+
+"Confoond ye, Weelum," broke out Drumsheugh; "its doonricht cruel o' ye
+to speak like this tae me. Whar wud Jess gang but tae Drumsheugh? she
+'ill hae her run o' heck an' manger sae lang as she lives; the Glen
+wudna like tae see anither man on Jess, and nae man 'ill ever touch the
+auld mare."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Dinna mind me, Paitrick, for a" expeckit this; but ye ken we're no
+verra gleg wi' oor tongues in Drumtochty, an' dinna tell a' that's in
+oor hearts.
+
+"Weel, that's a' that a' mind, an' the rest a' leave tae yersel'. A've
+neither kith nor kin tae bury me, sae you an' the neeburs 'ill need tae
+lat me doon; but gin Tammas Mitchell or Saunders be stannin' near and
+lookin' as if they wud like a cord, gie't tae them, Paitrick. They're
+baith dour chiels, and haena muckle tae say, but Tammas hes a graund
+hert, and there's waur fouk in the Glen than Saunders.
+
+"A'm gettin' drowsy, an' a'll no be able tae follow ye sune, a' doot;
+wud ye read a bit tae me afore a' fa' ower?
+
+"Ye 'ill find ma mither's Bible on the drawers' heid, but ye 'ill need
+tae come close tae the bed, for a'm no hearin' or seein' sae weel as a'
+wes when ye cam."
+
+Drumsheugh put on his spectacles and searched for a comfortable
+Scripture, while the light of the lamp fell on his shaking hands and the
+doctor's face where the shadow was now settling.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Ma mither aye wantit this read tae her when she wes sober" (weak), and
+Drumsheugh began, "In My Father's house are many mansions," but MacLure
+stopped him.
+
+"It's a bonnie word, an' yir mither wes a sanct; but it's no for the
+like o' me. It's ower gude; a' daurna tak it.
+
+"Shut the buik an' let it open itsel, an' ye 'ill get a bit a've been
+readin' every nicht the laist month."
+
+Then Drumsheugh found the Parable wherein the Master tells us what God
+thinks of a Pharisee and of a penitent sinner, till he came to the
+words: "And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so
+much as his eyes to heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be
+merciful to me a sinner."
+
+"That micht hae been written for me, Paitrick, or ony ither auld sinner
+that hes feenished his life, an' hes naethin' tae say for himsel'.
+
+"It wesna easy for me tae get tae kirk, but a' cud hae managed wi' a
+stretch, an' a' used 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 I
+wes sorry, an' a'm houpin' that the Almichty 'ill hae mercy on me.
+
+"Cud ye ... pit up a bit prayer, Paitrick?"
+
+"A' haena the words," said Drumsheugh in great distress; "wud ye like's
+tae send for the minister?"
+
+"It's no the time for that noo, an' a' wud rather hae yersel'--juist
+what's in yir heart, Paitrick: the Almichty 'ill ken the lave (rest)
+Himsel'."
+
+So Drumsheugh knelt and prayed with many pauses.
+
+"Almichty God ... dinna be hard on Weelum MacLure, for he's no been hard
+wi' onybody in Drumtochty.... Be kind tae him as he's been tae us a' for
+forty year.... We're a' sinners afore Thee.... Forgive him what he's
+dune wrang, an' dinna cuist it up tae him.... Mind the fouk he's helpit
+.... the wee-men an' bairnies.... an' gie him a welcome hame, for he's
+sair needin't after a' his wark.... Amen."
+
+"Thank ye, Paitrick, and gude nicht tae ye. Ma ain true freend, gie's
+yir hand, for a'll maybe no ken ye again.
+
+"Noo a'll say ma mither's prayer and hae a sleep, but ye 'ill no leave
+me till a' is ower."
+
+Then he repeated as he had done every night of his life:
+
+  "This night I lay me down to sleep,
+  I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
+  And if I die before I wake,
+  I pray the Lord my soul to take."
+
+He was sleeping quietly when the wind drove the snow against the window
+with a sudden "swish;" and he instantly awoke, so to say, in his sleep.
+Some one needed him.
+
+"Are ye frae Glen Urtach?" and an unheard voice seemed to have answered
+him.
+
+"Worse is she, an' suffering awfu'; that's no lichtsome; ye did richt
+tae come.
+
+"The front door's drifted up; gang roond tae the back, an' ye 'ill get
+intae the kitchen; a'll be ready in a meenut.
+
+"Gie's a hand wi' the lantern when a'm saidling Jess, an' ye needna come
+on till daylicht; a' ken the road."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Then he was away in his sleep on some errand of mercy, and struggling
+through the storm. "It's a coorse nicht, Jess, an' heavy traivellin';
+can ye see afore ye, lass? for a'm clean confused wi' the snaw; bide a
+wee till a' find the diveesion o' the roads; it's aboot here back or
+forrit.
+
+"Steady, lass, steady, dinna plunge; i'ts a drift we're in, but ye're no
+sinkin'; ... up noo; ... there ye are on the road again.
+
+"Eh, it's deep the nicht, an' hard on us baith, but there's a puir
+wumman micht dee if we didna warstle through; ... that's it; ye ken fine
+what a'm sayin.'
+
+"We 'ill hae tae leave the road here, an' tak tae the muir. Sandie 'ill
+no can leave the wife alane tae meet us; ... feel for yersel" lass, and
+keep oot o' the holes.
+
+"Yon's the hoose black in the snaw. 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 lang
+aifter that; we're ready for oor beds, Jess.... ay, ye like a clap at a
+time; mony a mile we've gaed hegither.
+
+"Yon's the licht in the kitchen window; nae wonder ye're nickering
+(neighing).... it's been a stiff journey; a'm tired, lass.... a'm tired
+tae deith," and the voice died into silence.
+
+Drumsheugh held his friend's hand, which now and again tightened in his,
+and as he watched, a change came over the face on the pillow beside him.
+The lines of weariness 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 to
+his boyhood.
+
+[Illustration: "SHE'S CARRYIN' A LIGHT IN HER HAND"]
+
+"The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want,"  he repeated, till he came to
+the 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 haed
+ready when she cam.
+
+"'A'll come afore ye gang tae sleep, Wullie, but ye 'ill no get yir kiss
+unless ye can feenish the psalm.'
+
+"And ... in God's house ... for evermore my ... hoo dis it rin? a canna
+mind the next word ... my, my--
+
+"It's ower dark noo tae read it, an' mither 'ill sune be comin."
+
+Drumsheugh, in an agony, whispered into his ear, "'My dwelling-place,'
+Weelum."
+
+"That's it, that's it a' noo; wha said it?
+
+  "And in God's house for evermore
+  My dwelling-place shall be.
+
+"A'm ready noo, an' a'll get ma kiss when mither comes; a' wish she wud
+come, for a'm tired an' wantin' tae sleep.
+
+"Yon's her step ... an' she's carryin' a licht in her hand; a' see it
+through the door.
+
+"Mither! a' kent ye wudna forget yir laddie 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 be
+asleep."
+
+The grey morning light fell on Drumsheugh, still holding his friend's
+cold hand, and staring at a hearth where the fire had died down into
+white ashes; but the peace on the doctor's face was of one who rested
+from his labours.
+
+
+
+
+
+                  THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN
+
+
+V.
+
+THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN.
+
+Dr. MacLure was buried during the great snowstorm which is still spoken
+of, and will remain the standard of snowfall in Drumtochty for the
+century. The snow was deep on the Monday, and the men that gave notice
+of his funeral had hard work to reach the doctor's distant patients.
+On Tuesday morning it began to fall again in heavy, fleecy flakes, and
+continued till Thursday, and then on Thursday the north wind rose and
+swept the snow into the hollows of the roads that went to the upland
+farms, and built it into a huge bank at the mouth of Glen Urtach, and
+laid it across our main roads in drifts of every size and the most
+lovely shapes, and filled up crevices in the hills to the depth of fifty
+feet.
+
+On Friday morning the wind had sunk to passing gusts that powdered
+your coat with white, and the sun was shining on one of those winter
+landscapes no townsman can imagine and no countryman ever forgets. The
+Glen, from end to end and side to side, was clothed in a glistering
+mantle white as no fuller on earth could white it, that flung its skirts
+over the clumps of trees and scattered farmhouses, and was only divided
+where the Tochty ran with black, swollen stream. The great moor rose and
+fell in swelling billows of snow that arched themselves over the burns,
+running deep in the mossy ground, and hid the black peat bogs with a
+thin, treacherous crust.
+
+[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 our
+lower Grampians, we caught glimpses of the distant peaks that lifted
+their heads in holiness unto God.
+
+It seemed to me a fitting day for William MacLure's funeral, rather than
+summer time, with its flowers and golden corn. He had not been a soft
+man, nor had he lived an easy life, and now he was to be laid to rest
+amid the austere majesty of winter, yet in the shining of the sun. Jamie
+Soutar, with whom I toiled across the Glen, did not think with me, but
+was gravely concerned.
+
+"Nae doot it's a graund sicht; the like o't is no gien tae us twice in
+a generation, an' nae king wes ever carried tae his tomb in sic a
+cathedral.
+
+"But it's the fouk a'm conseederin', an' hoo they'll win through; it's
+hard eneuch for them 'at's on the road, an' it's clean impossible for
+the 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-bodied
+men missin'.
+
+"A' wes mad at them, because they never said onything when he wes
+leevin', but they felt for a' that what he hed dune, an', a' think, he
+kent it afore he deed.
+
+"He hed juist ae faut, tae ma thinkin', for a' never jidged the waur
+o' him for his titch of rochness--guid trees hae gnarled bark--but he
+thotched ower little o' himsel'.
+
+"Noo, gin a' hed asked him hoo mony fouk wud come tae his beerial, he
+wud hae said, 'They 'ill be Drumsheugh an' yersel', an' may be twa or
+three neeburs besides the minister,' an' the fact is that nae man in oor
+time wud hae sic a githerin' if it werena for the storm.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Ye see," said Jamie, who had been counting heads all morning, "there's
+six shepherds in Glen Urtaeh--they're shut up fast; an' there micht hae
+been a gude half dizen frae Dunleith wy, an' a'm telt there's nae road;
+an' there's the heich Glen, nae man cud cross the muir the day, an' it's
+aucht mile round;" and Jamie proceeded to review the Glen in every
+detail of age, driftiness of road and strength of  body, till we arrived
+at the doctor's cottage, when he had settled on a reduction of fifty
+through stress of weather.
+
+[Illustration: "ANE OF THEM GIED OWER THE HEAD IN A DRIFT, AND HIS
+NEEBURS HAD TAE PU' HIM OOT,']
+
+Drumsheugh was acknowledged as chief mourner by the Glen, and received
+us at the gate with a labored attempt at everyday manners.
+
+"Ye've hed heavy traivellin', a' doot, an' ye 'ill be cauld. It's hard
+weather for the sheep an' a'm thinkin' this 'ill be a feeding storm.
+
+"There wes nae use trying tae dig oot the front door yestreen, for it
+wud hae been drifted up again before morning. We've cleared awa the snow
+at the back for the prayer; ye 'ill get in at the kitchen door.
+
+"There's a puckle Dunleith men-----"
+
+"Wha?" cried Jamie in an instant.
+
+"Dunleith men," said Drumsheugh.
+
+"Div ye mean they're here, whar are they?"
+
+"Drying themsels at the fire, an' no withoot need; ane of them gied
+ower the head in a drift, and his neeburs hed tae pu' him oot.
+
+"It took them a gude fower oors tae get across, an' it wes coorse wark;
+they likit him weel doon that wy, an', Jamie, man"--here Drumsheugh's
+voice changed its note, and his public manner disappeared--"what div ye
+think o' this? every man o' them has on his blacks."
+
+"It's mair than cud be expeckit" said Jamie; "but whar dae yon men come
+frae, Drumsheugh?"
+
+Two men in plaids were descending the hill behind the doctor's cottage,
+taking three feet at a stride, and carrying long staffs in their hands.
+
+"They're Glen Urtach men, Jamie, for are o' them wes at Kildrummie fair
+wi' sheep, but hoo they've wun doon passes me."
+
+"It canna be, Drumsheugh," said Jamie, greatly excited. "Glen Urtach's
+steikit up wi' sna like a locked door.
+
+[Illustration: "TWO MEN IN PLAIDS WERE DESCENDING THE HILL"]
+
+"Ye're no surely frae the Glen, lads?" as the men leaped the dyke and
+crossed to the back door, the snow falling from their plaids as they
+walked.
+
+"We're that an' nae mistak, but a' thocht we wud be lickit ae place, eh,
+Charlie? a'm no sae weel acquant wi' the hill on this side, an' there
+wes some kittle (hazardous) drifts."
+
+"It wes grand o' ye tae mak the attempt," said Drumsheugh, "an' a'm gled
+ye're safe."
+
+"He cam through as bad himsel' tae help ma wife," was Charlie's reply.
+
+"They're three mair Urtach shepherds 'ill come in by sune; they're frae
+Upper Urtach an' we saw them fording the river; ma certes it took them
+a' their time, for it wes up tae their waists and rinnin' like a mill
+lade, but they jined hands and cam ower fine." And the Urtach men went
+in to the fire. The Glen began to arrive in twos and threes, and Jamie,
+from a point of vantage at the gate, and under an appearance of utter
+indifference, checked his roll till even he was satisfied.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Weelum MacLure 'ill hae the beerial he deserves in spite o' sna and
+drifts; it passes a' tae see hoo they've githered frae far an' near.
+
+"A'm thinkin' ye can colleck them for the minister noo, Drumsheugh.
+A'body's here 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 Adam
+Ross absent, detained by force, being eighty-two years of age.
+
+"It wud hae been temptin' Providence tae cross the muir," Whinnie
+explained, "and it's a fell stap roond; a' doot we're laist."
+
+"See, Jamie," said Drumsheugh, as he went to the house, "gin there be
+ony antern body in sicht afore we begin; we maun mak allooances the day
+wi' twa feet o' sna on the grund, tae say naethin' o' drifts."
+
+"There's something at the 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 a
+dogcairt 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 ony
+ither doctors. A' ken thae horses, and wha's ahind them. Quick, man,
+Hillocks, stop the fouk, and tell Drumsheugh tae come oot, for Lord
+Kilspindie hes come up frae Muirtown Castle."
+
+Jamie himself slipped behind, and did not wish to be seen.
+
+"It's the respeck he's gettin' the day frae high an' low," was Jamie's
+husky apology; "tae think o' them fetchin' their wy doon frae Glen
+Urtach, and toiling roond frae the heich Glen, an' his Lordship driving
+through the drifts a' the road frae Muirtown, juist tae honour Weelum
+MacLure's beerial.
+
+[Illustration: "TWA HORSES, ANE AFORE THE ITHER"]
+
+"It's nae ceremony the day, ye may lippen tae it; it's the hert brocht
+the fouk, an' ye  can see it in their faces; ilka man hes his ain
+reason, an' he's thinkin' on't though he's speakin' o' naethin' but the
+storm; he's mindin' the day Weelum pued him 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 fouk
+canna say muckle, it's an awfu' peety, and they 'ill dae their best tae
+show naethin', but a' can read it a' in their een.
+
+"But wae's me"--and Jamie broke down utterly behind a fir tree, so
+tender a thing is a cynic's heart--"that fouk 'ill tak a man's best wark
+a' his days without a word an' no dae him honour till he dees. Oh, if
+they hed only githered like this juist aince when he wes livin', an' lat
+him 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 wild
+passage in the snow-covered wheels, a broken shaft tied with rope, a
+twisted lamp, and the panting horses, pulled up between two rows of
+farmers, 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's
+how I'm half an hour late; it took us four hours' stiff work for sixteen
+miles, mostly in the drifts, of course."
+
+"It wes gude o' yir lordship, tae mak sic an effort, an' the hale Glen
+wull be gratefu' tae ye, for ony kindness tae him is kindness tae us."
+
+[Illustration: HE HAD LEFT HIS OVERCOAT AND WAS IN BLACK]
+
+"You make too much of it, Drumsheugh," and the clear, firm voice was
+heard of all; "it would have taken more than a few snow drifts to keep
+me from showing my respect to William MacLure's memory."  When all had
+gathered in a half circle before the kitchen door, Lord Kilspindie came
+out--every man noticed he had left his overcoat, and was in black, like
+the Glen--and took a place in the middle with Drumsheugh and Burnbrae,
+his two chief tenants, on the right and left, and as the minister
+appeared every man bared his head.
+
+The doctor looked on the company--a hundred men such as for strength
+and gravity you could hardly have matched in Scotland--standing out in
+picturesque relief against the white background, and he said:
+
+"It's a bitter day, friends, and some of you are old; perhaps it might
+be wise to cover your heads before I begin to pray."
+
+Lord Kilspindie, standing erect and grey-headed between the two old men,
+replied:
+
+"We thank you, Dr. Davidson, for your thoughtfulness; but he endured
+many a storm in our service, and we are not afraid of a few minutes'
+cold at his funeral."
+
+A look flashed round the stern faces, and was reflected from the
+minister, who seemed to stand higher.
+
+His prayer, we noticed with critical appreciation, was composed for the
+occasion, and the first part was a thanksgiving to God for the life work
+of our doctor, wherein each clause was a reference to his services and
+sacrifices. No one moved or said Amen--it had been strange with us--but
+when every man had heard the gratitude of his dumb heart offered to
+heaven, there was a great sigh.
+
+After which the minister prayed that we might have grace to live as this
+man had done from youth to old age, not for himself, but for others,
+and that we might be followed to our grave by somewhat of "that love
+wherewith we mourn this day Thy servant departed." Again the same sigh,
+and the minister said Amen. The "wricht" stood in the doorway without
+speaking, and four stalwart men came forward. They were the volunteers
+that would lift the coffin and carry it for the first stage. One was
+Tammas, Annie Mitchell's man; and another was Saunders Baxter, for whose
+life MacLure had his great fight with death; and the third was the Glen
+Urtach shepherd for whose wife's sake MacLure suffered a broken leg and
+three fractured ribs in a drift; and the fourth, a Dunleith man, had his
+own reasons of remembrance.
+
+"He's far lichter than ye wud expeck for sae big a man--there wesna
+muckle left o' him, ye see--but the road is heavy, and a'il change ye
+aifter 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 thankful
+some one had saved him speaking.
+
+Surely no funeral is like unto that of a doctor for pathos, and a
+peculiar sadness fell on that company as his body was carried out who
+for nearly half a century had been their help in sickness, and had
+beaten back death time after time from their door. Death after all
+was victor, for the man that had saved them had not been able to save
+himself.
+
+As the coffin passed the stable door a horse nieghed within, and every
+man looked at his neighbour. It was his old mare crying to her master.
+
+Jamie slipped into the stable, and went up into the stall.
+
+"Puir lass, ye're no gaen' wi' him the day, an' ye 'ill never see him
+again; ye've hed yir last ride thegither, an' ye were true tae the end."
+
+[Illustration: "DEATH AFTER ALL WAS VICTOR"]
+
+After the funeral Drumsheugh came himself for Jess, and took her to his
+farm. Saunders made a bed for her with soft, dry straw, and prepared for
+her supper such things as horses love. Jess would neither take food nor
+rest, but moved uneasily in her stall, and seemed to be waiting for some
+one that never came. No man knows what a horse or a dog understands and
+feels, for God hath not given them our speech. If any footstep was heard
+in the courtyard, she began to neigh, and was always looking round as
+the door opened. But nothing would tempt her to eat, and in the night-
+time Drumsheugh heard her crying as if she expected to be taken out for
+some sudden journey. The Kildrummie veterinary came to see her, and said
+that nothing could be done when it happened after this fashion with an
+old horse.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"A've seen it aince afore," he said. "Gin she were a Christian instead
+o' a horse, ye micht say she wes dying o' a broken hert."
+
+He recommended that she should be shot to end her misery, but no man
+could be found in the Glen to do the deed and Jess relieved them of the
+trouble. When Drumsheugh went to the stable on Monday morning, a week
+after Dr. MacLure fell on sleep, Jess was resting at last, but her eyes
+were 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, the
+coffin first, with his lordship and Drumsheugh behind, and the others as
+they pleased, but in closer ranks than usual, because the snow on either
+side was deep, and because this was not as other funerals. They could
+see the women standing at the door of every house on the hillside, and
+weeping, for each family had some good reason in forty years to remember
+MacLure. When Bell Baxter saw Saunders alive, and the coffin of the
+doctor that saved him on her man's shoulder, she bowed her head on the
+dyke, and the bairns in the village made such a wail for him they loved
+that the men nearly disgraced themselves.
+
+"A'm gled we're through that, at ony rate," said Hillocks; "he wes awfu'
+taen up wi' the bairns, conseederin' he hed nane o' his ain."
+
+There was only one drift on the road between his cottage and the
+kirkyard, and it had been cut early that morning. Before daybreak
+Saunders had roused the lads in the bothy, and they had set to work by
+the light of lanterns with such good will that, when Drumsheugh came
+down to engineer a circuit for the funeral, there was a fair passage,
+with walls of snow twelve feet high on either side.
+
+[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 gang
+round; 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 only
+blackness in the white kirkyard, Tammas Mitchell did the most beautiful
+thing in all his life. He knelt down and carefully wiped off the snow
+the wind had blown upon the coffin, and which had covered the name,
+and when he had done this he disappeared behind the others, so that
+Drumsheugh could hardly find him to take a cord. For these were the
+eight that buried Dr. MacLure--Lord Kilspindie at the head as landlord
+and Drumsheugh at his feet as his friend; the two ministers of the
+parish came first on the right and left; then Burnbrae and Hillocks of
+the farmers, and Saunders and Tammas for the plowmen. So the Glen he
+loved laid him to rest.
+
+When the bedrel had finished his work and the turf had been spread, Lord
+Kilspindie spoke:
+
+"Friends of Drumtochty, it would not be right that we should part in
+silence and no man say what is in every heart. We have buried the
+remains of one that served this Glen with a devotion that has known no
+reserve, and a kindliness that never failed, for more than forty years.
+I have seen many brave men in my day, but no man in the trenches of
+Sebastopol carried himself more knightly than William MacLure. You will
+never have heard from his lips what I may tell you to-day, that my
+father secured for him a valuable post in his younger days, and he
+preferred to work among his own people; and I wished to do many things
+for him when he was old, but he would have nothing for himself. He will
+never be forgotten while one of us lives, and I pray that all doctors
+everywhere may share his spirit. If it be your pleasure, I shall erect
+a cross above his grave, and shall ask my old friend and companion Dr.
+Davidson, your minister, to choose the text to be inscribed."
+
+"We thank you, Lord Kilspindie," said the doctor, "for your presence
+with us in our 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 wark
+weel, but it wes a peety he didna mak mair profession o' releegion."
+
+"When William MacLure appears before the Judge, Milton," said Lachlan
+Campbell, who that day spoke his last words in public, and they were in
+defence of charity, "He will not be asking him about his professions,
+for the doctor's judgment hass been ready long ago; and it iss a good
+judgment, 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 not
+be expecting it."
+
+"What is't Lachlan?" asked Jamie Soutar eagerly.
+
+The old man, now very feeble, stood in the middle of the road, and his
+face, once so hard, was softened into a winsome tenderness.
+
+              "'Come, ye blessed of My Father
+              ... I was sick and ye visited Me.'"
+
+[Illustration: GREATER LOVE HATH NO MAN THAN THIS, THAT A MAN LAY DOWN
+HIS LIFE FOR HIS FRIENDS.]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Doctor of the Old School, Complete
+by Ian Maclaren
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL ***
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+<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN">
+<html>
+<head>
+<title>A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL, Complete</title>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1">
+<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg">
+
+<style type="text/css">
+    <!--
+		body {margin:15%; text-align:justify}
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+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; }
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+
+<h1><a href="#contents">A Doctor of the Old School, Complete</a></h1>
+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's A Doctor of the Old School, Complete, by Ian Maclaren
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
+
+
+Title: A Doctor of the Old School, Complete
+
+Author: Ian Maclaren
+
+Release Date: November 1, 2006 [EBook #9320]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL, ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger and PG Distributed
+Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+<center>
+<h1>A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL</h1>
+
+<h2>by Ian Maclaren</h2>
+<a name="Frontispiece"></a>
+
+<a href="images/Frontispiece.png"><img alt="Frontispiece.jpg (87K)" src="images/Frontispiece.jpg" height="693" width="598"></a>
+
+<a href="images/001.png"><img alt="001.jpg (155K)" src="images/001.jpg" height="817" width="503"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+<a name="contents"></a>
+
+<br><br>
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+<center>
+<table summary="" cellPadding=4 border=3>
+<tr><td>
+
+<p><a href="p1.htm">A GENERAL PRACTITIONER</a></p></td></tr><tr><td>
+
+<p><a href="p2.htm">THROUGH THE FLOOD</a></p></td></tr><tr><td>
+
+<p><a href="p3.htm">A FIGHT WITH DEATH</a></p></td></tr><tr><td>
+
+<p><a href="p4.htm">THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY</a></p></td></tr><tr><td>
+
+<p><a href="p5.htm">THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN</a></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+<center>
+<table summary="">
+<tr><td>
+
+
+[A click on the face of any illustration<br>
+will enlarge it to full size.]
+<br><br>
+<a href="#Frontispiece">DR. MacLURE</a><br>
+<a href="p1.htm#012">BOOK I. A GENERAL PRACTITIONER</a><br>
+<a href="p1.htm#014">Sandy Stewart "Napped" Stones</a><br>
+<a href="p1.htm#019">The Gudewife is Keepin' up a Ding-Dong</a><br>
+<a href="p1.htm#020">His House&mdash;little more than a cottage</a><br>
+<a href="p1.htm#023">Whirling Past in a Cloud of Dust</a><br>
+<a href="p1.htm#025">Will He Never Come?</a><br>
+<a href="p1.htm#028">The Verra Look o' Him wes Victory</a><br>
+<a href="p1.htm#029">Weeping by Her Man's Bedside</a><br>
+<a href="p1.htm#031">For Such Risks of Life, Men Get the Victoria Cross in Other Fields</a><br>
+<a href="p1.htm#036">Hopps' Laddie Ate Grosarts</a><br>
+<a href="p1.htm#041">There werna Mair than Four at Nicht</a><br>
+<br>
+<a href="p2.htm#044">BOOK II. THROUGH THE FLOOD</a><br>
+<a href="p2.htm#046">A' doot Yir Gaein' tae Lose Her, Tammas</a><br>
+<a href="p2.htm#049">The Bonniest, Snoddest, Kindliest Lass in the Glen</a><br>
+<a href="p2.htm#050">The Winter Night was Falling Fast</a><br>
+<a href="p2.htm#051">Comin' tae Meet Me in the Gloamin'</a><br>
+<a href="p2.htm#056">It's oot o' the Question, Jess, sae Hurry up</a><br>
+<a href="p2.htm#058">It's a Fell Chairge for a Short Day's Work</a><br>
+<a href="p2.htm#061">The East had Come to Meet the West</a><br>
+<a href="p2.htm#064">MacLure Explained that it would be an Eventful Journey</a><br>
+<a href="p2.htm#066">They Passed through the Shallow Water without Mishap</a><br>
+<a href="p2.htm#069">A Heap of Speechless Misery by the Kitchen Fire</a><br>
+<a href="p2.htm#071">Ma ain Dear Man</a><br>
+<a href="p2.htm#074">I'm Proud to have Met You</a><br>
+<br>
+<a href="p3.htm#078">BOOK III. A FIGHT WITH DEATH</a><br>
+<a href="p3.htm#080">Gave Way Utterly</a><br>
+<a href="p3.htm#082">Fillin' His Lungs for Five and Thirty Year wi' Strong Drumtochty Air</a><br>
+<a href="p3.htm#085">Bell Leant Over the Bed</a><br>
+<a href="p3.htm#088">A Large Tub</a><br>
+<a href="p3.htm#091">The Lighted Window in Saunder's Cottage</a><br>
+<a href="p3.htm#094">A Clenched Fist Resting on the Bed</a><br>
+<a href="p3.htm#097">The Doctor was Attempting the Highland Fling</a><br>
+<a href="p3.htm#098">Sleepin' on the Top o' Her Bed</a><br>
+<a href="p3.htm#100">A' Prayed Last Nicht</a><br>
+<a href="p3.htm#102">I've a Cold in My Head To-night</a><br>
+<a href="p3.htm#106">Jess Bolted without Delay</a><br>
+<br>
+<a href="p4.htm#110">BOOK IV. THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY</a><br>
+<a href="p4.htm#112">Comin' in Frae Glen Urtach</a><br>
+<a href="p4.htm#115">Drumsheugh was Full of Tact</a><br>
+<a href="p4.htm#118">Told Drumsheugh that the Doctor was not Able to Rise</a><br>
+<a href="p4.htm#121">With the Old Warm Grip</a><br>
+<a href="p4.htm#124">Drumsheugh Looked Wistfully</a><br>
+<a href="p4.htm#128">Wud Gie Her a Bite o' Grass</a><br>
+<a href="p4.htm#130">Ma Mither's Bible</a><br>
+<a href="p4.htm#134">It's a Coorse Nicht, Jess</a><br>
+<a href="p4.htm#137">She's Carryin' a Licht in Her Hand</a><br>
+<br>
+<a href="p5.htm#141">BOOK V. THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN</a><br>
+<a href="p5.htm#143">The Tochty Ran with Black, Swollen Stream</a><br>
+<a href="p5.htm#145">Toiled Across the Glen</a><br>
+<a href="p5.htm#147">There was Nae Use Trying tae Dig Oot the Front Door</a><br>
+<a href="p5.htm#148">Ane of Them Gied Ower the Head in a Drift, and His Neeburs hed tae pu' Him oot</a><br>
+<a href="p5.htm#151">Two Men in Plaids were Descending the Hill</a><br>
+<a href="p5.htm#153">Jined Hands and Cam ower Fine</a><br>
+<a href="p5.htm#156">Twa Horses, Ane afore the Ither</a><br>
+<a href="p5.htm#159">He had Left His Overcoat, and was in Black</a><br>
+<a href="p5.htm#164">Death after All was Victor</a><br>
+<a href="p5.htm#165">She Began to Neigh</a><br>
+<a href="p5.htm#168">They had Set to Work</a><br>
+<a href="p5.htm#169">Standing at the Door</a><br>
+<a href="p5.htm#174">Finis</a><br>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+<h2>
+PREFACE</h2>
+
+<p>It is with great good will that I write this short preface to the
+edition of "A Doctor of the Old School" (which has been illustrated by
+Mr. Gordon after an admirable and understanding fashion) because there
+are two things that I should like to say to my readers, being also my
+friends.</p>
+
+<p>One, is to answer a question that has been often and fairly asked. Was
+there ever any doctor so self-forgetful and so utterly Christian as
+William MacLure? To which I am proud to reply, on my conscience: Not one
+man, but many in Scotland and in the South country. I will dare prophecy
+also across the sea.</p>
+
+<p>It has been one man's good fortune to know four country doctors, not one
+of whom was without his faults&mdash;Weelum was not perfect&mdash;but who, each
+one, might have sat for my hero. Three are now resting from their
+labors, and the fourth, if he ever should see these lines, would never
+identify himself.</p>
+
+<p>Then I desire to thank my readers, and chiefly the medical profession
+for the reception given to the Doctor of Drumtochty.</p>
+
+<p>For many years I have desired to pay some tribute to a class whose
+service to the community was known to every countryman, but after the
+tale had gone forth my heart failed. For it might have been despised
+for the little grace of letters in the style and because of the outward
+roughness of the man. But neither his biographer nor his circumstances
+have 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 in
+commendation of Weelum MacLure, and many were from doctors who had
+received new courage. It is surely more honor than a new writer could
+ever have deserved to receive the approbation of a profession whose
+charity puts us all to shame.</p>
+
+<p>May I take this first opportunity to declare how deeply my heart has
+been 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 face
+to face.</p>
+
+<p>IAN MACLAREN. Liverpool, Oct. 4, 1895.</p>
+
+<br><br>
+
+
+<center>
+<table summary="" cellPadding=4 border=3>
+<tr><td>
+
+<p><a href="p1.htm">A GENERAL PRACTITIONER</a></p></td></tr><tr><td>
+
+<p><a href="p2.htm">THROUGH THE FLOOD</a></p></td></tr><tr><td>
+
+<p><a href="p3.htm">A FIGHT WITH DEATH</a></p></td></tr><tr><td>
+
+<p><a href="p4.htm">THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY</a></p></td></tr><tr><td>
+
+<p><a href="p5.htm">THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN</a></p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Doctor of the Old School, Complete
+by Ian Maclaren
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL, ***
+
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+</pre>
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+</body>
+</html>
+
diff --git a/old/orig9320-h/p1.htm b/old/orig9320-h/p1.htm
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+<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN">
+<html>
+<head>
+<title>A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL, Part 1.</title>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1">
+
+
+<style type="text/css">
+    <!--
+		body {margin:15%; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent:   1em;
+        margin-top:    .75em;
+        margin-bottom: .75em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; }
+    HR  { width: 33%; text-align: center; }
+		img {border: 0;}
+		blockquote {font-size: 97%; }
+		.figleft   {float: left;}
+    .figright  {float: right;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 15%; margin-bottom: 0em;}
+    CENTER { padding: 10px;}
+		PRE    { font-family: Times; font-size: 97%; margin-left: 15%;}
+    // -->
+</style>
+
+
+</head>
+<body>
+
+<h1>Part 1</h1>
+
+<center>
+<table summary="" cellPadding=4 border=3>
+<tr><td>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="p2.htm">Next Part</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+</td><td>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="9320-h.htm">Main Index</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+ </td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+
+<center>
+<h1>A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL</h1>
+
+<h2>by Ian Maclaren</h2>
+<a name="Frontispiece"></a>
+
+<a href="images/Frontispiece.png"><img alt="Frontispiece.jpg (87K)" src="images/Frontispiece.jpg" height="693" width="598"></a>
+
+<a href="images/001.png"><img alt="001.jpg (155K)" src="images/001.jpg" height="817" width="503"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+<br><br>
+
+<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+<center>
+<table summary="">
+<tr><td>
+
+
+[A click on the face of any illustration<br> will enlarge it to full size.]<br><br>
+
+<a href="#Frontispiece">DR. MacLURE</a><br>
+<a href="#012">Part I. A GENERAL PRACTITIONER</a><br>
+<a href="#014">Sandy Stewart "Napped" Stones</a><br>
+<a href="#019">The Gudewife is Keepin' up a Ding-Dong</a><br>
+<a href="#020">His House&mdash;little more than a cottage</a><br>
+<a href="#023">Whirling Past in a Cloud of Dust</a><br>
+<a href="#025">Will He Never Come?</a><br>
+<a href="#028">The Verra Look o' Him wes Victory</a><br>
+<a href="#029">Weeping by Her Man's Bedside</a><br>
+<a href="#031">Men Get the Victoria Cross in Other Fields</a><br>
+<a href="#036">Hopps' Laddie Ate Grosarts</a><br>
+<a href="#041">There werna Mair than Four at Nicht</a><br>
+
+
+
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+
+
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+
+<br><br>
+
+
+<center>
+<h1>
+Part I.
+<br><br>
+A GENERAL PRACTITIONER.</h1>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+<br><br>
+
+
+
+<h2>
+PREFACE</h2>
+
+<p>It is with great good will that I write this short preface to the
+edition of "A Doctor of the Old School" (which has been illustrated by
+Mr. Gordon after an admirable and understanding fashion) because there
+are two things that I should like to say to my readers, being also my
+friends.</p>
+
+<p>One, is to answer a question that has been often and fairly asked. Was
+there ever any doctor so self-forgetful and so utterly Christian as
+William MacLure? To which I am proud to reply, on my conscience: Not one
+man, but many in Scotland and in the South country. I will dare prophecy
+also across the sea.</p>
+
+<p>It has been one man's good fortune to know four country doctors, not one
+of whom was without his faults&mdash;Weelum was not perfect&mdash;but who, each
+one, might have sat for my hero. Three are now resting from their
+labors, and the fourth, if he ever should see these lines, would never
+identify himself.</p>
+
+<p>Then I desire to thank my readers, and chiefly the medical profession
+for the reception given to the Doctor of Drumtochty.</p>
+
+<p>For many years I have desired to pay some tribute to a class whose
+service to the community was known to every countryman, but after the
+tale had gone forth my heart failed. For it might have been despised
+for the little grace of letters in the style and because of the outward
+roughness of the man. But neither his biographer nor his circumstances
+have 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 in
+commendation of Weelum MacLure, and many were from doctors who had
+received new courage. It is surely more honor than a new writer could
+ever have deserved to receive the approbation of a profession whose
+charity puts us all to shame.</p>
+
+<p>May I take this first opportunity to declare how deeply my heart has
+been 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 face
+to face.</p>
+
+<p>IAN MACLAREN. Liverpool, Oct. 4, 1895.</p>
+
+<br><br>
+
+
+<a name="I"></a>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<center>
+<h1>
+A GENERAL PRACTITIONER.</h1>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+
+
+<a name="012"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/012.png"><img alt="012.jpg (73K)" src="images/012.jpg" height="652" width="552"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+<p>Drumtochty was accustomed to break every law of health, except wholesome
+food and fresh air, and yet had reduced the Psalmist's farthest limit to
+an average life-rate. Our men made no difference in their clothes for
+summer or winter, Drumsheugh and one or two of the larger farmers
+condescending to a topcoat on Sabbath, as a penalty of their position,
+and without regard to temperature. They wore their blacks at a funeral,
+refusing to cover them with anything, out of respect to the deceased,
+and standing longest in the kirkyard when the north wind was blowing
+across a hundred miles of snow. If the rain was pouring at the Junction,
+then Drumtochty stood two minutes longer through sheer native dourness
+till each man had a cascade from the tail of his coat, and hazarded the
+suggestion, 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."</p>
+
+<a name="014"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/014.png"><img alt="014.jpg (67K)" src="images/014.jpg" height="645" width="472"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+<p>This sustained defiance of the elements provoked occasional judgments in
+the shape of a "hoast" (cough), and the head of the house was then
+exhorted by his women folk to "change his feet" if he had happened to
+walk through a burn on his way home, and was pestered generally with
+sanitary precautions. It is right to add that the  gudeman treated such
+advice with contempt, regarding it as suitable for the effeminacy of
+towns, but not seriously 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 he
+spent ten years more in regretting his hastiness and criticising his
+successor. The ordinary course of life, with fine air and contented
+minds, was to do a full share of work till seventy, and then to look
+after "orra" jobs well into the eighties, and to "slip awa" within sight
+of ninety. Persons above ninety were understood to be acquitting
+themselves with credit, and assumed airs of authority, brushing aside
+the opinions of seventy as immature, and confirming their conclusions
+with illustrations drawn from the end of last century.</p>
+
+<p>When Hillocks' brother so far forgot himself as to "slip awa"
+at sixty, that worthy man was scandalized, and offered laboured
+explanations at the "beerial."</p>
+
+<p>"It's an awfu' business ony wy ye look at it, an' a sair trial tae us
+a'. A' never heard tell o' sic a thing in oor family afore, an' it's no
+easy accoontin' for't.</p>
+
+<p>"The gudewife was sayin' he wes never the same sin' a weet nicht he lost
+himsel on the muir and slept below a bush; but that's neither here nor
+there. A'm thinkin' he sappit his constitution thae twa years he wes
+grieve aboot England. That wes thirty years syne, but ye're never the
+same aifter thae foreign climates."</p>
+
+<p>Drumtochty listened patiently to Hillocks' apology, but was not
+satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>"It's clean havers about the muir. Losh keep's, we've a' sleepit oot and
+never been a hair the waur.</p>
+
+<p>"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 hed
+been nippit in the Sooth."</p>
+
+<p>The parish had, in fact, lost confidence in Drums after his wayward
+experiment with a potato-digging machine, which turned out a lamentable
+failure, and his premature departure confirmed our vague impression of
+his character.</p>
+
+<p>"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 wee
+flichty."</p>
+
+<p>When illness had the audacity to attack a Drumtochty man, it was
+described as a "whup," and was treated by the men with a fine
+negligence. Hillocks was sitting in the post-office one afternoon when
+I looked in for my letters, and the right side of his face was blazing
+red. His subject of discourse was the prospects of the turnip "breer,"
+but he casually explained that he was waiting for medical advice.</p>
+
+<p>"The gudewife is keepin' up a ding-dong frae mornin' till nicht aboot ma
+face, and a'm fair deaved (deafened), so a'm watchin' for MacLure tae
+get a bottle as he comes wast; yon's him noo."</p>
+
+<p>The doctor made his diagnosis from horseback on sight, and stated the
+result with that admirable clearness which endeared him to Drumtochty.</p>
+
+<p>"Confoond ye, Hillocks, what are ye ploiterin' aboot here for in the
+weet 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' ye
+afore a' leave the bit, and send a haflin for some medicine. Ye donnerd
+idiot, are ye ettlin tae follow Drums afore yir time?" And the medical
+attendant of Drumtochty continued his invective till Hillocks started,
+and still pursued his  retreating figure with medical directions of a
+simple and practical character.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="019"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/019.png"><img alt="019.jpg (64K)" src="images/019.jpg" height="717" width="436"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"A'm watchin', an' peety ye if ye pit aff time. Keep yir bed the
+mornin', and dinna show yir face in the fields till a' see ye. A'll gie
+ye a cry on Monday&mdash;sic an auld fule&mdash;but there's no are o' them tae
+mind anither in the hale pairish."</p>
+
+<a name="020"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/020.png"><img alt="020.jpg (69K)" src="images/020.jpg" height="618" width="463"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>Hillocks' wife informed the kirkyaird that the doctor "gied the gudeman
+an awfu' clear-in'," and that Hillocks "wes keepin' the hoose," which
+meant that the patient had tea breakfast, and at that time was wandering
+about the farm buildings in an easy undress with his head in a plaid.</p>
+
+<p>It was impossible for a doctor to earn even the most modest competence
+from a people of such scandalous health, and so MacLure had annexed
+neighbouring parishes. His house&mdash;little more than a cottage&mdash;stood on
+the roadside among the pines towards the head of our Glen, and from this
+base of operations he dominated the wild glen that broke the wall of the
+Grampians above Drumtochty&mdash;where the snow drifts were twelve feet deep
+in winter, and the only way of passage at times was the channel of the
+river&mdash;and the moorland district westwards till he came to the Dunleith
+sphere of influence, where there were four doctors and a hydropathic.
+Drumtochty in its length, which was eight miles, and its breadth, which
+was 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 way
+thereto was across the big moor with its peat holes and treacherous
+bogs. And he held the land eastwards towards Muirtown so far as Geordie,
+the Drumtochty post, travelled every day, and could carry word that the
+doctor was wanted. He did his best for the need of every man, woman and
+child in this wild, straggling district, year in, year out, in the snow
+and in the heat, in the dark and in the light, without rest, and without
+holiday for forty years.</p>
+
+<p>One horse could not do the work of this man, but we liked best to see
+him on his old white mare, who died the week after her master, and the
+passing of the two did our hearts good. It was not that he rode
+beautifully, for he broke every canon of art, flying with his arms,
+stooping till he seemed to be speaking into Jess's ears, and rising in
+the saddle beyond all necessity. But he could rise faster, stay longer
+in the saddle, and had a firmer grip with his knees than any one I ever
+met, and it was all for mercy's sake. When the reapers in harvest time
+saw a figure whirling past in a cloud of dust, or the family at the foot
+of Glen Urtach, gathered round the fire on a winter's night, heard the
+rattle of a horse's hoofs on the road, or the shepherds, out after the
+sheep, traced a black speck moving across the snow to the upper glen,
+they knew it was the doctor, and, without being conscious of it, wished
+him God speed.</p>
+
+<a name="023"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/023.png"><img alt="023.jpg (80K)" src="images/023.jpg" height="550" width="449"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+<p>Before and behind his saddle were strapped the instruments and medicines
+the doctor might want, for he never knew what was before him. There were
+no specialists in Drumtochty, so this man had to do everything as best
+he could, and as quickly. He was chest doctor and doctor for every other
+organ as well; he was accoucheur and surgeon; he was oculist and aurist;
+he was dentist and chloroformist, besides being chemist and druggist.
+It was often told how he was far up Glen Urtach when the feeders of the
+threshing mill caught young Burnbrae, and how he only stopped to change
+horses at his house, and galloped all the way to Burnbrae, and flung
+himself off his horse and amputated the arm, and saved the lad's life.</p>
+
+<p>"You wud hae thocht that every meenut was an hour," said Jamie Soutar,
+who had been at the threshing, "an' a'll never forget the puir lad lying
+as white as deith on the floor o' the loft, wi' his head on a sheaf, an'
+Burnbrae haudin' the bandage ticht an' prayin' a' the while, and the
+mither greetin' in the corner.</p>
+
+<p>"'Will he never come?' she cries, an' a' heard the soond o' the horse's
+feet on the road a mile awa in the frosty air.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="025"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/025.png"><img alt="025.jpg (109K)" src="images/025.jpg" height="677" width="528"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"'The Lord be praised!' said Burnbrae, and a' slippit doon the ladder
+as the doctor came skelpin' intae the close, the foam fleein' frae his
+horse's mooth.</p>
+
+<p>"Whar is he?' wes a' that passed his lips, an' in five meenuts he hed
+him on the feedin' board, and wes at his wark&mdash;sic wark, neeburs&mdash;but he
+did it weel. An' ae thing a' thocht rael thochtfu' o' him: he first sent
+aff the laddie's mither tae get a bed ready.</p>
+
+<p>"Noo that's feenished, and his constitution 'ill dae the rest," and he
+carried the lad doon the ladder in his airms like a bairn, and laid him
+in 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' hevna
+tasted meat for saxteen hoors.'</p>
+
+<p>"It was michty tae see him come intae the yaird that day, neeburs; the
+verra look o' him wes victory."</p>
+
+<a name="028"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/028.png"><img alt="028.jpg (71K)" src="images/028.jpg" height="713" width="444"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+<p>Jamie's cynicism slipped off in the enthusiasm of this reminiscence, and
+he expressed the feeling of Drumtochty. No one sent for MacLure save in
+great straits, and the sight of him put courage in sinking hearts. But
+this was not by the grace of his appearance, or the advantage of a good
+bedside manner. A tall, gaunt, loosely made man, without an ounce of
+superfluous flesh on his body, his face burned a dark brick color by
+constant exposure to the weather, red hair and beard turning grey,
+honest blue eyes that look you ever in the face, huge hands with wrist
+bones like the shank of a ham, and a voice that hurled his salutations
+across two fields, he suggested the moor rather  than the drawing-room.
+But what a clever hand it was in an operation, as delicate as a woman's,
+and what a kindly voice it was in the humble room where the shepherd's
+wife was weeping by her man's bedside.
+</p>
+
+
+<a name="029"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/029.png"><img alt="029.jpg (115K)" src="images/029.jpg" height="651" width="530"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+<p>
+He was "ill pitten the gither" to
+begin with, but many of his physical defects were the penalties of his
+work, and endeared him to the Glen. That ugly scar that cut into his
+right eyebrow and gave him such a sinister expression, was got one night
+Jess slipped on the ice and laid him insensible eight miles from home.
+His limp marked the big snowstorm in the fifties, when his horse missed
+the road in Glen Urtach, and they rolled together in a drift. MacLure
+escaped with a broken leg and the fracture of three ribs, but he never
+walked like other men again. He could not swing himself into the saddle
+without making two attempts and holding Jess's mane. Neither can you
+"warstle" through the peat bogs and snow drifts for forty winters
+without a touch of rheumatism. But they were honorable scars, and for
+such risks of life men get the Victoria Cross in other fields.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="031"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/031.png"><img alt="031.jpg (111K)" src="images/031.jpg" height="925" width="638"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>MacLure got nothing but the secret affection of the Glen, which knew
+that none had ever done one-tenth as much for it as this ungainly,
+twisted, battered figure, and I have  seen a Drumtochty face
+soften at the sight of MacLure limping to his horse.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hopps earned the ill-will of the Glen for ever by criticising
+the doctor's dress, but indeed it would have filled any townsman with
+amazement. Black he wore once a year, on Sacrament Sunday, and, if
+possible, at a funeral; topcoat or waterproof never. His jacket and
+waistcoat were rough homespun of Glen Urtach wool, which threw off the
+wet like a duck's back, and below he was clad in shepherd's tartan
+trousers, which disappeared into unpolished riding boots. His shirt was
+grey flannel, and he was uncertain about a collar, but certain as to a
+tie which he never had, his beard doing instead, and his hat was soft
+felt of four colors and seven different shapes. His point of distinction
+in dress was the trousers, and they were the subject of unending
+speculation.</p>
+
+<p>"Some threep that he's worn thae eedentical pair the last twenty year,
+an' a' mind masel him gettin' a tear ahint, when he was crossin' oor
+palin', and the mend's still veesible.</p>
+
+<p>"Ithers declare 'at he's got a wab o' claith, and hes a new pair made in
+Muirtown aince in the twa year maybe, and keeps them in the garden till
+the new look wears aff.</p>
+
+<p>"For ma ain pairt," Soutar used to declare, "a' canna mak up my mind,
+but there's ae thing sure, the Glen wud not like tae see him withoot
+them: it wud be a shock tae confidence. There's no muckle o' the check
+left, but ye can aye tell it, and when ye see thae breeks comin' in ye
+ken that if human pooer can save yir bairn's life it 'ill be dune."</p>
+
+<p>The confidence of the Glen&mdash;and tributary states&mdash;was unbounded, and
+rested partly on long experience of the doctor's resources, and partly
+on his hereditary connection.</p>
+
+<p>"His father was here afore him," Mrs. Macfadyen used to explain; "atween
+them they've hed the countyside for weel on tae a century; if MacLure
+disna understand oor constitution, wha dis, a' wud like tae ask?"</p>
+
+<p>For Drumtochty had its own constitution and a special throat disease, as
+became a parish which was quite self-contained between the woods and the
+hills, and not dependent on the lowlands either for its diseases or its
+doctors.</p>
+
+<p>"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' he
+disna tribble the Kirk often.</p>
+
+<p>"He aye can tell what's wrang wi' a body, an' maistly he can put ye
+richt, and there's nae new-fangled wys wi' him: a blister for the
+ootside an' Epsom salts for the inside dis his wark, an' they say
+there's no an herb on the hills he disna ken.</p>
+
+<p>"If we're tae dee, we're tae dee; an' if we're tae live, we're tae live,"
+concluded Elspeth, with sound Calvinistic logic; "but a'll say this
+for the doctor, that whether yir tae live or dee, he can aye keep up a
+sharp meisture on the skin."</p>
+
+<p>"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' misadventures
+of which Hillocks held the copyright.</p>
+
+<p>"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' he
+writes 'immediately' on a slip o' paper.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"'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 and
+tire.  </p>
+
+<p>"'It's nane o' us, doctor; it's Hopps' laddie; he's been eatin' ower
+mony berries.'</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="036"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/036.png"><img alt="036.jpg (91K)" src="images/036.jpg" height="827" width="670"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"If he didna turn on me like a tiger.</p>
+
+<p>"Div ye mean tae say&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>"'Weesht, weesht,' an' I tried tae quiet him, for Hopps wes comin' oot.</p>
+
+<p>"'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, and
+I've never had one wink of sleep. You might have come a little quicker,
+that's all I've got to say.'</p>
+
+<p>"We've mair tae dae in Drumtochty than attend tae every bairn that hes a
+sair stomach,' and a' saw MacLure wes roosed.</p>
+
+<p>"'I'm astonished to hear you speak. Our doctor at home always says to
+Mrs. 'Opps "Look on me as a family friend, Mrs. 'Opps, and send for me
+though it be only a headache."'</p>
+
+<p>"'He'd be mair sparin' o' his offers if he hed four and twenty mile tae
+look aifter. There's naethin' wrang wi' yir laddie but greed. Gie him a
+gude dose o' castor oil and stop his meat for a day, an' he 'ill be a'
+richt the morn.'</p>
+
+<p>"'He 'ill not take castor oil, doctor. We have given up those barbarous
+medicines.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Whatna kind o' medicines hae ye noo in the Sooth?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Well, you see, Dr. MacLure, we're homoeopathists, and I've my little
+chest here,' and oot Hopps comes wi' his boxy.</p>
+
+<p>"'Let's see't,' an' MacLure sits doon and taks oot the bit bottles, and
+he reads the names wi' a lauch every time.</p>
+
+<p>"'Belladonna; did ye ever hear the like? Aconite; it cowes a'. Nux
+Vomica. What next? Weel, ma mannie,' he says tae Hopps, 'it's a fine
+ploy, and ye 'ill better gang on wi' the Nux till it's dune, and gie him
+ony ither o' the sweeties he fancies.</p>
+
+<p>"'Noo, Hillocks, a' maun be aff tae see Drumsheugh's grieve, for he's
+doon wi' the fever, and it's tae be a teuch fecht. A' hinna time tae
+wait for dinner; gie me some cheese an' cake in ma haund, and Jess 'ill
+tak a pail o' meal an' water.</p>
+
+<p>"'Fee; a'm no wantin' yir fees, man; wi' that boxy ye dinna need a
+doctor; na, na, gie yir siller tae some puir body, Maister Hopps,' an'
+he was doon the road as hard as he cud lick."</p>
+
+<p>His fees were pretty much what the folk chose to give him, and he
+collected them once a year at Kildrummie fair.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, doctor, what am a' awin' ye for the wife and bairn? Ye 'ill need
+three notes for that nicht ye stayed in the hoose an' a' the veesits."</p>
+
+<p>"Havers," MacLure would answer, "prices are low, a'm hearing; gie's
+thirty shillings."</p>
+
+<p>"No, a'll no, or the wife 'ill tak ma ears off," and it was settled for
+two pounds. Lord Kilspindie gave him a free house and fields, and one
+way or other, Drumsheugh told me, the doctor might get in about �150
+a year, out of which he had to pay his old housekeeper's wages and a
+boy's, and keep two horses, besides the cost of instruments and books,
+which he bought through a friend in Edinburgh with much judgment.</p>
+
+<p>There was only one man who ever complained of the doctor's charges, and
+that was the new farmer of Milton, who was so good that he was above
+both churches, and held a meeting in his barn. (It was Milton the Glen
+supposed at first to be a Mormon, but I can't go into that now.) He
+offered MacLure a pound less than he asked, and two tracts, whereupon
+MacLure expressed his opinion of Milton, both from a theological and
+social standpoint, with such vigor and frankness that an attentive
+audience of Drumtochty men could hardly contain themselves. Jamie Soutar
+was selling his pig at the time, and missed the meeting, but he hastened
+to condole with Milton, who was complaining everywhere of the doctor's
+language.</p>
+
+
+<a name="041"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/041.png"><img alt="041.jpg (72K)" src="images/041.jpg" height="335" width="467"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"Ye did richt tae resist him; it 'ill maybe roose the Glen tae mak a
+stand; he fair hands them in bondage.</p>
+
+<p>"Thirty shillings for twal veesits, and him no mair than seeven mile
+awa, an' a'm telt there werena mair than four at nicht.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye 'ill hae the sympathy o' the Glen, for a' body kens yir as free wi'
+yir siller as yir tracts.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"A've often thocht oor doctor's little better than the Gude Samaritan,
+an' the Pharisees didna think muckle o' his chance aither in this warld
+or that which is tae come."</p>
+
+
+
+<br><br>
+
+
+
+
+<center>
+<table summary="" cellPadding=4 border=3>
+<tr><td>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="p2.htm">Next Part</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+</td><td>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="9320-h.htm">Main Index</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+ </td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+
+
+
+</body>
+</html>
+
+
+
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+<title>A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL, Part 2.</title>
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+<h1>Part 2</h1>
+
+<center>
+<table summary="" cellPadding=4 border=3>
+<tr><td>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="p1.htm">Previous Part</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+</td><td>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="9320-h.htm">Main Index</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+</td><td>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="p3.htm">Next Part</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+ </td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+
+
+<center>
+<h1>A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL</h1>
+
+<h2>by Ian Maclaren</h2>
+<a name="Frontispiece"></a>
+
+<a href="images/Frontispiece.png"><img alt="Frontispiece.jpg (87K)" src="images/Frontispiece.jpg" height="693" width="598"></a>
+
+<a href="images/001.png"><img alt="001.jpg (155K)" src="images/001.jpg" height="817" width="503"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+<br><br>
+
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h1>
+Part 2.
+<br><br>
+THROUGH THE FLOOD.</h1>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+<br><br>
+
+<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+<center>
+<table summary="">
+<tr><td>
+
+
+
+[A click on the face of any <br>
+illustration will enlarge it to full size.]<br><br>
+
+<a href="#Frontispiece">DR. MacLURE</a><br>
+<a href="#044">BOOK II. THROUGH THE FLOOD</a><br>
+<a href="#046">A' doot Yir Gaein' tae Lose Her, Tammas</a><br>
+<a href="#049">The Bonniest, Snoddest, Kindliest Lass in the Glen</a><br>
+<a href="#050">The Winter Night was Falling Fast</a><br>
+<a href="#051">Comin' tae Meet Me in the Gloamin'</a><br>
+<a href="#056">It's oot o' the Question, Jess, sae Hurry up</a><br>
+<a href="#058">It's a Fell Chairge for a Short Day's Work</a><br>
+<a href="#061">The East had Come to Meet the West</a><br>
+<a href="#064">MacLure Explained that it would be an Eventful Journey</a><br>
+<a href="#066">They Passed through the Shallow Water without Mishap</a><br>
+<a href="#069">A Heap of Speechless Misery by the Kitchen Fire</a><br>
+<a href="#071">Ma ain Dear Man</a><br>
+<a href="#074">I'm Proud to have Met You</a><br>
+
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+<h2>
+PREFACE</h2>
+
+<p>It is with great good will that I write this short preface to the
+edition of "A Doctor of the Old School" (which has been illustrated by
+Mr. Gordon after an admirable and understanding fashion) because there
+are two things that I should like to say to my readers, being also my
+friends.</p>
+
+<p>One, is to answer a question that has been often and fairly asked. Was
+there ever any doctor so self-forgetful and so utterly Christian as
+William MacLure? To which I am proud to reply, on my conscience: Not one
+man, but many in Scotland and in the South country. I will dare prophecy
+also across the sea.</p>
+
+<p>It has been one man's good fortune to know four country doctors, not one
+of whom was without his faults&mdash;Weelum was not perfect&mdash;but who, each
+one, might have sat for my hero. Three are now resting from their
+labors, and the fourth, if he ever should see these lines, would never
+identify himself.</p>
+
+<p>Then I desire to thank my readers, and chiefly the medical profession
+for the reception given to the Doctor of Drumtochty.</p>
+
+<p>For many years I have desired to pay some tribute to a class whose
+service to the community was known to every countryman, but after the
+tale had gone forth my heart failed. For it might have been despised
+for the little grace of letters in the style and because of the outward
+roughness of the man. But neither his biographer nor his circumstances
+have 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 in
+commendation of Weelum MacLure, and many were from doctors who had
+received new courage. It is surely more honor than a new writer could
+ever have deserved to receive the approbation of a profession whose
+charity puts us all to shame.</p>
+
+<p>May I take this first opportunity to declare how deeply my heart has
+been 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 face
+to face.</p>
+
+<p>IAN MACLAREN. Liverpool, Oct. 4, 1895.</p>
+
+<br><br>
+
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="II"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h1>THROUGH THE FLOOD.</h1>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<a name="044"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/044.png"><img alt="044.jpg (67K)" src="images/044.jpg" height="666" width="538"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>
+Doctor MacLure did not lead a solemn procession from the sick bed to
+the dining-room, and give his opinion from the hearthrug with an air of
+wisdom bordering on the supernatural, because neither the Drumtochty
+houses nor his manners were on that large scale. He was accustomed to
+deliver himself in the yard, and to conclude his directions with one
+foot in the stirrup; but when he left the room where the life of Annie
+Mitchell was ebbing slowly away, our doctor said not one word, and at
+the sight of his face her husband's heart was troubled.</p>
+
+<p>He was a dull man, Tammas, who could not read the meaning of a sign, and
+labored under a perpetual disability of speech; but love was eyes to him
+that day, and a mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"Is't as bad as yir lookin', doctor? tell's the truth; wull Annie no
+come through?" and Tammas looked MacLure straight in the face, who never
+flinched his duty or said smooth things.</p>
+
+<p>"A' wud gie onything tae say Annie hes a chance, but a' daurna; a' doot
+yir gaein' tae lose her, Tammas."</p>
+
+<p>MacLure was in the saddle, and as he gave his judgment, he laid his hand
+on Tammas's shoulder with one of the rare caresses that pass between
+men.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="046"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/046.png"><img alt="046.jpg (79K)" src="images/046.jpg" height="661" width="465"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"It's a sair business, but ye 'ill play the  man and no vex Annie;
+she 'ill dae her best, a'll warrant."</p>
+
+<p>"An' a'll dae mine," and Tammas gave MacLure's hand a grip that would
+have crushed the bones of a weakling. Drumtochty felt in such moments
+the brotherliness of this rough-looking man, and loved him.</p>
+
+<p>Tammas hid his face in Jess's mane, who looked round with sorrow in her
+beautiful eyes, for she had seen many tragedies, and in this silent
+sympathy the stricken man drank his cup, drop by drop.</p>
+
+<p>"A' wesna prepared for this, for a' aye thocht she wud live the
+langest.... She's younger than me by ten years, and never wes ill....
+We've been mairit twal year laist Martinmas, but it's juist like a year
+the day... A' wes never worthy o' her, the bonniest, snoddest (neatest),
+kindliest lass in the Glen.... A' never cud mak oot hoo she ever lookit
+at me, 'at hesna hed ae word tae say aboot her till it's ower late....
+She didna cuist up tae me that a' wesna worthy o' her, no her, but aye
+she said, 'Yir ma ain gudeman, and nane cud be kinder tae me.' ... An'
+a' wes minded tae be kind, but a' see noo mony little trokes a' micht
+hae dune for her, and noo the time is bye.... Naebody kens hoo patient
+she wes wi' me, and aye made the best o 'me, an' never pit me tae shame
+afore the fouk.... An' we never hed ae cross word, no ane in twal
+year.... We were mair nor man and wife, we were sweethearts a' the
+time.... Oh, ma bonnie lass, what 'ill the bairnies an' me dae withoot
+ye, Annie?"</p>
+
+
+<a name="049"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/049.png"><img alt="049.jpg (90K)" src="images/049.jpg" height="782" width="484"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>The winter night was falling fast, the snow lay deep upon the ground,
+and the merciless north wind moaned through the close as Tammas wrestled
+with his sorrow dry-eyed, for tears were denied Drumtochty men. Neither
+the doctor nor Jess moved hand or  foot, but their hearts were with
+their fellow creature, and at length the doctor made a sign to Marget
+Howe, who had come out in search of Tammas, and now stood by his side.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="050"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/050.png"><img alt="050.jpg (36K)" src="images/050.jpg" height="222" width="458"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"Dinna mourn tae the brakin' o' yir hert, Tammas," she said, "as if
+Annie an' you hed never luved. Neither death nor time can pairt them
+that luve; there's naethin' in a' the warld sae strong as luve. If Annie
+gaes frae the 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 her
+nicht 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 in
+Drumtochty."</p>
+
+
+<a name="051"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/051.png"><img alt="051.jpg (41K)" src="images/051.jpg" height="356" width="450"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"Thank ye kindly, Marget; thae are gude words and true, an' ye hev the
+richt tae say them; but a' canna dae without seem' Annie comin' tae meet
+me 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 nae
+Annie in the hoose.</p>
+
+<p>"Can naethin' be dune, doctor? Ye savit Flora Cammil, and young
+Burnbrae, an' yon shepherd's wife Dunleith wy, an' we were a sae prood
+o' ye, an' pleased tae think that ye hed keepit deith frae anither hame.
+Can ye no think o' somethin' tae help Annie, and gie her back tae her
+man and bairnies?" and Tammas searched the doctor's face in the cold,
+weird light.</p>
+
+<p>"There's nae pooer on heaven or airth like luve," Marget said to me
+afterwards; "it maks the weak strong and the dumb tae speak. Oor herts
+were as water afore Tammas's words, an' a' saw the doctor shake in his
+saddle. A' never kent till that meenut hoo he hed a share in a'body's
+grief, an' carried the heaviest wecht o' a' the Glen. A' peetied him wi'
+Tammas lookin' at him sae wistfully, as if he hed the keys o' life an'
+deith in his hands. But he wes honest, and wudna hold oot a false houp
+tae deceive a sore hert or win escape for himsel'."</p>
+
+<p>"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 the
+warld, 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 an
+orphan, an' nae man wes better pleased when she got a gude husband, and
+a' helpit her wi' her fower bairns. A've naither wife nor bairns o' ma
+own, an' a' coont a' the fouk o' the Glen ma family. Div ye think a'
+wudna save Annie if I cud? If there wes a man in Muirtown 'at cud dae
+mair for her, a'd have him this verra nicht, but a' the doctors in
+Perthshire are helpless for this tribble.</p>
+
+<p>"Tammas, ma puir fallow, if it could avail, a' tell ye a' wud lay doon
+this auld worn-oot ruckle o' a body o' mine juist tae see ye baith
+sittin' at the fireside, an' the bairns roond ye, couthy an' canty
+again; but it's no tae be, Tammas, it's no tae be."</p>
+
+<p>"When a' lookit at the doctor's face," Marget said, "a' thocht him the
+winsomest man a' ever saw. He was transfigured that nicht, for a'm
+judging there's nae transfiguration like luve."</p>
+
+<p>"It's God's wull an' maun be borne, but it's a sair wull for me, an' a'm
+no ungratefu' tae you, doctor, for a' ye've dune and what ye said the
+nicht," and Tammas went back to sit with Annie for the last time.</p>
+
+<p>Jess picked her way through the deep snow to the main road, with a skill
+that came of long experience, and the doctor held converse with her
+according to his wont.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh, Jess wumman, yon wes the hardest wark a' hae tae face, and a' wud
+raither hae ta'en ma chance o' anither row in a Glen Urtach drift than
+tell Tammas Mitchell his wife wes deein'. </p>
+
+<p>"A' said she cudna be cured, and it wes true, for there's juist ae man
+in the land fit for't, and they micht as weel try tae get the mune oot
+o' heaven. Sae a' said naethin' tae vex Tammas's hert, for it's heavy
+eneuch withoot regrets.</p>
+
+<p>"But it's hard, Jess, that money wull buy life after a', an' if Annie
+wes a duchess her man wudna lose her; but bein' only a puir cottar's
+wife, she maun dee afore the week's oot.</p>
+
+<p>"Gin we hed him the morn there's little doot she would be saved, for he
+hesna lost mair than five per cent, o' his cases, and they 'ill be puir
+toon's craturs, no strappin women like Annie.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="056"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/056.png"><img alt="056.jpg (79K)" src="images/056.jpg" height="603" width="476"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"It's oot o' the question, Jess, sae hurry up, lass, for we've hed a
+heavy day. But it wud be the grandest thing that was ever dune in the
+Glen in oor time if it could be managed by hook or crook.</p>
+
+<p>"We 'ill gang and see Drumsheugh, Jess; he's anither man sin' Geordie
+Hoo's deith, and he wes aye kinder than fouk kent;" and the doctor
+passed at a gallop through the village, whose lights shone across the
+white frost-bound road.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in by, doctor; a' heard ye on the road; ye 'ill hae been at Tammas
+Mitchell's; hoo's the gudewife? a' doot she's sober."</p>
+
+<p>"Annie's deein', Drumsheugh, an' Tammas is like tae brak his hert."</p>
+
+<p>"That's no lichtsome, doctor, no lichtsome ava, for a' dinna ken ony
+man in Drumtochty sae bund up in his wife as Tammas, and there's no
+a bonnier wumman o' her age crosses our kirk door than Annie, nor a
+cleverer at her wark. Man, ye 'ill need tae pit yir brains in steep. Is
+she clean beyond ye?"</p>
+
+<p>"Beyond me and every ither in the land but ane, and it wud cost a
+hundred guineas tae bring him tae Drumtochty."</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="058"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/058.png"><img alt="058.jpg (59K)" src="images/058.jpg" height="473" width="344"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"Certes, he's no blate; it's a fell chairge for a short day's work; but
+hundred or no hundred we'll hae him, an' no let Annie gang, and her no
+half her years."</p>
+
+<p>"Are ye meanin' it, Drumsheugh?" and MacLure turned white below the tan.
+"William MacLure," said Drumsheugh, in one of the few confidences that
+ever broke the Drumtochty reserve, "a'm a lonely man, wi' naebody o' ma
+ain blude tae care for me livin', or tae lift me intae ma coffin when
+a'm deid.</p>
+
+<p>"A' fecht awa at Muirtown market for an extra pound on a beast, or a
+shillin' on the quarter o' barley, an' what's the gude o't? Burnbrae
+gaes aff tae get a goon for his wife or a buke for his college laddie,
+an' Lachlan Campbell 'ill no leave the place noo without a ribbon for
+Flora.</p>
+
+<p>"Ilka man in the Klldrummie train has some bit fairin' his pooch for the
+fouk at hame that he's bocht wi' the siller he won.</p>
+
+<p>"But there's naebody tae be lookin' oot for me, an' comin' doon the road
+tae meet me, and daffin' (joking) wi' me about their fairing, or feeling
+ma pockets. Ou ay, a've seen it a' at ither hooses, though they tried
+tae hide it frae me for fear a' wud lauch at them. Me lauch, wi' ma
+cauld, empty hame!</p>
+
+<p>"Yir the only man kens, Weelum, that I aince luved the noblest wumman in
+the glen or onywhere, an' a' luve her still, but wi' anither luve noo.</p>
+
+<p>"She had given her heart tae anither, or a've thocht a' micht hae
+won her, though nae man be worthy o' sic a gift. Ma hert turned tae
+bitterness, but that passed awa beside the brier bush whar George Hoo
+lay yon sad simmer time. Some day a'll tell ye ma story, Weelum, for you
+an' me are auld freends, and will be till we dee."</p>
+
+<p>MacLure felt beneath the table for Drumsheugh's hand, but neither man
+looked at the other.</p>
+
+<p>"Weel, a' we can dae noo, Weelum, gin we haena mickle brichtness in oor
+ain names, is tae keep the licht frae gaein' oot in anither hoose. Write
+the telegram, man, and Sandy  'ill send it aff frae Kildrummie this
+verra nicht, and ye 'ill hae yir man the morn."</p>
+
+
+<p>"Yir the man a' coonted ye, Drumsheugh, but ye 'ill grant me ae favor.
+Ye 'ill lat me pay the half, bit by bit&mdash;a' ken yir wullin' tae dae't
+a'&mdash;but a' haena mony pleasures, an' a' wud like tae hae ma ain share in
+savin' Annie's life."</p>
+
+
+<a name="061"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/061.png"><img alt="061.jpg (84K)" src="images/061.jpg" height="717" width="471"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>Next morning a figure received Sir George on the Kildrummie platform,
+whom that famous surgeon took for a gillie, but who introduced himself
+as "MacLure of Drumtochty." It seemed as if the East had come to meet
+the West when these two stood together, the one in travelling furs,
+handsome and distinguished, with his strong, cultured face and carriage
+of authority, a characteristic type of his profession; and the other
+more marvellously dressed than ever, for Drumsheugh's topcoat had been
+forced upon him for the occasion, his face and neck one redness with the
+bitter cold; rough and ungainly, yet not without some signs of power in
+his eye and voice, the most heroic type of his noble profession. MacLure
+compassed the precious arrival with observances till he was securely
+seated in Drumsheugh's dog cart&mdash;a vehicle that lent itself to
+history&mdash;with two full-sized plaids added to his equipment&mdash;Drumsheugh
+and Hillocks had both been requisitioned&mdash;and MacLure wrapped another
+plaid round a leather case, which was placed below the seat with such
+reverence as might be given to the Queen's regalia. Peter attended their
+departure full of interest, and as soon as they were in the fir woods
+MacLure explained that it would be an eventful journey.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a richt in here, for the wind disna get at the snaw, but the
+drifts are deep in the Glen, and th'ill be some engineerin' afore we get
+tae oor destination."</p>
+
+<p>Four times they left the road and took their way over fields, twice they
+forced a passage through a slap in a dyke, thrice they used gaps in the
+paling which MacLure had made on his downward journey.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="064"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/064.png"><img alt="064.jpg (58K)" src="images/064.jpg" height="369" width="473"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye see the bridge hes been shaken wi' this winter's flood, and we
+daurna venture on it, sae we hev tae ford, and the snaw's been
+melting up Urtach way. There's nae doot the water's gey big, and it's
+threatenin' tae rise, but we 'ill win through wi' a warstle.</p>
+
+<p>"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 in
+yir seat in case we come on a stane in the bed o' the river."</p>
+
+<p>By this time they had come to the edge, and it was not a cheering sight.
+The Tochty had spread out over the meadows, and while they waited they
+could see it cover another two inches on the trunk of a tree. There are
+summer floods, when the water is brown and flecked with foam, but this
+was a winter flood, which is black and sullen, and runs in the centre
+with a strong, fierce, silent current. Upon the opposite side
+Hillocks stood to give directions by word and hand, as the ford was
+on his land, and none knew the Tochty better in all its ways.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="066"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/066.png"><img alt="066.jpg (159K)" src="images/066.jpg" height="745" width="479"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>They passed through the shallow water without mishap, save when the
+wheel struck a hidden stone or fell suddenly into a rut; but when they
+neared the body of the river MacLure halted, to give Jess a minute's
+breathing.</p>
+
+<p>"It 'ill tak ye a' yir time, lass, an' a' wud raither be on yir back;
+but ye never failed me yet, and a wumman's life is hangin' on the
+crossin'."</p>
+
+<p>With the first plunge into the bed of the stream the water rose to the
+axles, and then it crept up to the shafts, so that the surgeon could
+feel it lapping in about his feet, while the dogcart began to quiver,
+and it seemed as if it were to be carried away. Sir George was as brave
+as most men, but he had never forded a Highland river in flood, and the
+mass of black water racing past beneath, before, behind him, affected
+his imagination and shook his nerves. He rose from his seat and ordered
+MacLure to turn back, declaring that he would be condemned utterly and
+eternally if he allowed himself to be drowned for any person.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit doon," thundered MacLure; "condemned ye will be suner or later gin
+ye shirk yir duty, but through the water ye gang the day."</p>
+
+<p>Both men spoke much more strongly and shortly, but this is what they
+intended to say, and it was MacLure that prevailed.</p>
+
+<p>Jess trailed her feet along the ground with cunning art, and held her
+shoulder against the stream; MacLure leant forward in his seat, a rein
+in each hand, and his eyes fixed on Hillocks, who was now standing up to
+the waist in the water, shouting directions and cheering on horse and
+driver.</p>
+
+<p>"Haud tae the richt, doctor; there's a hole yonder. Keep oot o't for ony
+sake. </p>
+
+
+<a name="069"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/069.png"><img alt="069.jpg (87K)" src="images/069.jpg" height="628" width="458"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+<p>That's  heap of speechless misery by the kitchen fire, and carried
+him off to the barn, and spread some corn on the threshing floor and
+thrust a flail into his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Noo we've tae begin, an' we 'ill no be dune for an' oor, and ye've tae
+lay on withoot stoppin' till a' come for ye, an' a'll shut the door tae
+haud in the noise, an' keep yir dog beside ye, for there maunna be a
+cheep aboot the hoose for Annie's sake."</p>
+
+<p>"A'll dae onything ye want me, but if&mdash;if&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"A'll come for ye, Tammas, gin there be danger; but what are ye feared
+for wi' the Queen's ain surgeon here?"</p>
+
+<p>Fifty minutes did the flail rise and fall, save twice, when Tammas crept
+to the door and listened, the dog lifting his head and whining.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed twelve hours instead of one when the door swung back, and
+MacLure filled the  doorway, preceded by a great burst of light, for the
+sun had arisen on the snow.</p>
+
+
+<a name="071"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/071.png"><img alt="071.jpg (100K)" src="images/071.jpg" height="648" width="504"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>His face was as tidings of great joy, and Elspeth told me that there was
+nothing like it to be seen that afternoon for glory, save the sun itself
+in the heavens.</p>
+
+<p>"A' never saw the marrow o't, Tammas, an' a'll never see the like again;
+it's a' ower, man, withoot a hitch frae beginnin' tae end, and she's
+fa'in' asleep as fine as ye like."</p>
+
+<p>"Dis he think Annie ... 'ill live?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of coorse he dis, and be aboot the hoose inside a month; that's the gud
+o' bein' a clean-bluided, weel-livin'&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Preserve ye, man, what's wrang wi' ye? it's a mercy a' keppit ye, or we
+wud hev hed anither job for Sir George.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>He said nothing then or afterwards, for speech came only once in his
+lifetime to Tammas, but Annie whispered, "Ma ain dear man."</p>
+
+<p>When the doctor placed the precious bag beside Sir George in our
+solitary first next morning, he laid a cheque beside it and was about to
+leave.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," said the great man. "Mrs. Macfayden and I were on the gossip
+last night, and I know the whole story about you and your friend.</p>
+
+<p>"You have some right to call me a coward, but I'll never let you count
+me a mean, miserly rascal," and the cheque with Drumsheugh's painful
+writing fell in fifty pieces on the floor.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="074"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/074.png"><img alt="074.jpg (107K)" src="images/074.jpg" height="729" width="486"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>As the train began to move, a voice from the first called so that all
+the station heard.  "Give's another shake of your hand, MacLure; I'm
+proud to have met you; you are an honor to our profession. Mind the
+antiseptic dressings."</p>
+
+<p>It was market day, but only Jamie Soutar and Hillocks had ventured down.</p>
+
+<p>"Did ye hear yon, Hillocks? hoo dae ye feel? A'll no deny a'm lifted."</p>
+
+<p>Halfway to the Junction Hillocks had recovered, and began to grasp the
+situation.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell's what he said. A' wud like to hae it exact for Drumsheugh."</p>
+
+<p>"Thae's the eedentical words, an' they're true; there's no a man in
+Drumtochty disna ken that, except ane."</p>
+
+<p>"An' wha's thar, Jamie?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's Weelum MacLure himsel. Man, a've often girned that he sud fecht
+awa for us a', and maybe dee before he kent that he hed githered mair
+luve than ony man in the Glen.</p>
+
+<p>"'A'm prood tae hae met ye', says Sir George, an' him the greatest
+doctor in the land. 'Yir an honor tae oor profession.'</p>
+
+<p>"Hillocks, a' wudna hae missed it for twenty notes," said James Soutar,
+cynic-in-ordinary to the parish of Drumtochty.</p>
+
+
+
+<br><br>
+
+
+
+<center>
+<table summary="" cellPadding=4 border=3>
+<tr><td>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="p1.htm">Previous Part</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+</td><td>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="9320-h.htm">Main Index</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+</td><td>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="p3.htm">Next Part</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+ </td></tr>
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+<title>A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL, Part 3.</title>
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+<h1>Part 3</h1>
+
+
+<center>
+<table summary="" cellPadding=4 border=3>
+<tr><td>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="p2.htm">Previous Part</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+</td><td>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="9320-h.htm">Main Index</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+</td><td>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="p4.htm">Next Part</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+ </td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+
+<center>
+<h1>A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL</h1>
+
+<h2>by Ian Maclaren</h2>
+<a name="Frontispiece"></a>
+
+<a href="images/Frontispiece.png"><img alt="Frontispiece.jpg (87K)" src="images/Frontispiece.jpg" height="693" width="598"></a>
+
+<a href="images/001.png"><img alt="001.jpg (155K)" src="images/001.jpg" height="817" width="503"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+<br><br>
+
+<center>
+<h1>
+Part 3.
+
+<br><br>
+A FIGHT WITH DEATH.</h1>
+</center>
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+<center>
+<table summary="">
+<tr><td>
+
+[A click on the face of any illustration <br>
+will enlarge it to full size.]<br><br>
+
+<a href="#Frontispiece">DR. MacLURE</a><br>
+<a href="#078">BOOK III. A FIGHT WITH DEATH</a><br>
+<a href="#080">Gave Way Utterly</a><br>
+<a href="#082">Fillin' His Lungs for Five and Thirty Year wi' Strong Drumtochty Air</a><br>
+<a href="#085">Bell Leant Over the Bed</a><br>
+<a href="#088">A Large Tub</a><br>
+<a href="#091">The Lighted Window in Saunder's Cottage</a><br>
+<a href="#094">A Clenched Fist Resting on the Bed</a><br>
+<a href="#097">The Doctor was Attempting the Highland Fling</a><br>
+<a href="#098">Sleepin' on the Top o' Her Bed</a><br>
+<a href="#100">A' Prayed Last Nicht</a><br>
+<a href="#102">I've a Cold in My Head To-night</a><br>
+<a href="#106">Jess Bolted without Delay</a><br>
+
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+
+
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+<h2>
+PREFACE</h2>
+
+<p>It is with great good will that I write this short preface to the
+edition of "A Doctor of the Old School" (which has been illustrated by
+Mr. Gordon after an admirable and understanding fashion) because there
+are two things that I should like to say to my readers, being also my
+friends.</p>
+
+<p>One, is to answer a question that has been often and fairly asked. Was
+there ever any doctor so self-forgetful and so utterly Christian as
+William MacLure? To which I am proud to reply, on my conscience: Not one
+man, but many in Scotland and in the South country. I will dare prophecy
+also across the sea.</p>
+
+<p>It has been one man's good fortune to know four country doctors, not one
+of whom was without his faults&mdash;Weelum was not perfect&mdash;but who, each
+one, might have sat for my hero. Three are now resting from their
+labors, and the fourth, if he ever should see these lines, would never
+identify himself.</p>
+
+<p>Then I desire to thank my readers, and chiefly the medical profession
+for the reception given to the Doctor of Drumtochty.</p>
+
+<p>For many years I have desired to pay some tribute to a class whose
+service to the community was known to every countryman, but after the
+tale had gone forth my heart failed. For it might have been despised
+for the little grace of letters in the style and because of the outward
+roughness of the man. But neither his biographer nor his circumstances
+have 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 in
+commendation of Weelum MacLure, and many were from doctors who had
+received new courage. It is surely more honor than a new writer could
+ever have deserved to receive the approbation of a profession whose
+charity puts us all to shame.</p>
+
+<p>May I take this first opportunity to declare how deeply my heart has
+been 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 face
+to face.</p>
+
+<p>IAN MACLAREN. Liverpool, Oct. 4, 1895.</p>
+
+<br><br>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+<br><br>
+
+<a name="III"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h1>
+A FIGHT WITH DEATH.</h1>
+</center>
+
+
+
+<a name="078"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/078.png"><img alt="078.jpg (67K)" src="images/078.jpg" height="564" width="530"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>
+When Drumsheugh's grieve was brought to the gates of death by fever,
+caught, as was supposed, on an adventurous visit to Glasgow, the London
+doctor at Lord Kilspindie's shooting lodge looked in on his way from the
+moor, and declared it impossible for Saunders to live through the night.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>Bell heard this verdict from behind the door, and gave way utterly,
+but Drumsheugh declined to accept it as final, and devoted himself to
+consolation.</p>
+
+<p>"Dinna greet like that, Bell wumman, sae lang as Saunders is still
+living'; a'll never give up houp, for ma pairt, till oor ain man says
+the word.</p>
+
+<p>"A' the doctors in the land dinna ken as muckle aboot us as Weelum
+MacLure, an' he's ill tae beat when he's trying tae save a man's life."</p>
+
+<p>MacLure, on his coming, would say nothing, either weal or woe, till he
+had examined Saunders. Suddenly his face turned into iron before their
+eyes, and he looked like one encountering a merciless foe. For there was
+a feud between MacLure and a certain mighty power which had lasted for
+forty years in Drumtochty.</p>
+
+
+<a name="080"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/080.png"><img alt="080.jpg (86K)" src="images/080.jpg" height="608" width="484"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"The London doctor said that Saunders wud sough awa afore mornin', did
+he? Weel, he's an authority on fevers an' sic like diseases, an' ought
+tae ken.</p>
+
+<p>"It's may be presumptous o' me tae differ frae him, and it wudna be
+verra respectfu' o' Saunders tae live aifter this opeenion. But Saunders
+wes awe thraun an' ill tae drive, an' he's as like as no tae gang his
+own gait.</p>
+
+<p>"A'm no meanin' tae reflect on sae clever a man, but he didna ken the
+seetuation. He can read fevers like a buik, but he never cam across sic
+a thing as the Drumtochty constitution a' his days.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye see, when onybody gets as low as puir Saunders here, it's juist
+a hand to hand wrastle atween the fever and his constitution, an' of
+coorse, if he had been a shilpit, stuntit, feckless effeegy o' a cratur,
+fed on tea an' made dishes and pushioned wi' bad air, Saunders wud hae
+nae chance; he wes boond tae gae oot like the snuff o' a candle.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="082"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/082.png"><img alt="082.jpg (76K)" src="images/082.jpg" height="608" width="451"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"But Saunders hes been fillin' his lungs for five and thirty year wi'
+strong Drumtochty air, an' eatin' naethin' but kirny aitmeal, and
+drinkin' naethin' but fresh milk frae the coo, an' followin' the ploo
+through the new-turned sweet-smellin' earth, an' swingin' the scythe in
+haytime and harvest, till the legs an' airms o' him were iron, an' his
+chest wes like the cuttin' o' an oak tree.</p>
+
+<p>"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 hesna
+sinned against Nature, and Nature 'ill stand by him noo in his oor o'
+distress.</p>
+
+<p>"A' daurna say yea, Bell, muckle as a' wud like, for this is an evil
+disease, cunnin, an' treacherous as the deevil himsel', but a' winna say
+nay, sae keep yir hert frae despair.</p>
+
+<p>"It wull be a sair fecht, but it 'ill be settled one wy or anither by
+sax o'clock the morn's morn. Nae man can prophecee hoo it 'ill end, but
+ae thing is certain, a'll no see deith tak a Drumtochty man afore his
+time if a' can help it.</p>
+
+<p>"Noo, Bell ma wumman, yir near deid wi' tire, an' nae wonder. Ye've dune
+a' ye cud for yir man, an' ye'll lippen (trust) him the nicht tae
+Drumsheugh an' me; we 'ill no fail him or you.</p>
+
+<p>"Lie doon an' rest, an' if it be the wull o' the Almichty a'll wauken ye
+in the mornin' tae see a livin' conscious man, an' if it be ither-wise
+a'll come for ye the suner, Bell," and the big red hand went out to the
+anxious wife. "A' gie ye ma word."</p>
+
+<p>Bell leant over the bed, and at the sight of Saunders' face a
+superstitious dread seized her.</p>
+
+<p>"See, doctor, the shadow of deith is on him that never lifts. A've seen
+it afore, on ma father an' mither. A' canna leave him, a' canna leave
+him."</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="085"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/085.png"><img alt="085.jpg (100K)" src="images/085.jpg" height="704" width="474"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"The doctors in the toons hae nurses an' a' kinds o' handy apparatus,"
+said MacLure to Drumsheugh when Bell had gone, "but you an' me 'ill need
+tae be nurse the nicht, an' use sic things as we hev.</p>
+
+<p>"It 'ill be a lang nicht and anxious wark, but a' wud raither hae ye,
+auld freend, wi' me than ony man in the Glen. Ye're no feared tae gie a
+hand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Me feared? No, likely. Man, Saunders cam tae me a haflin, and hes been
+on Drumsheugh for twenty years, an' though he be a dour chiel, he's a
+faithfu' servant as ever lived. It's waesome tae see him lyin' there
+moanin' like some dumb animal frae mornin' tae nicht, an' no able tae
+answer his ain wife when she speaks.</p>
+
+<p>"Div ye think, Weelum, he hes a chance?"</p>
+
+<p>"That he hes, at ony rate, and it 'ill no be your blame or mine if he
+hesna mair."</p>
+
+<p>While he was speaking, MacLure took off his coat and waistcoat and hung
+them on the back of the door. Then he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt
+and laid bare two arms that were nothing but bone and muscle.</p>
+
+<p>"It gar'd ma very blood rin faster tae the end of ma fingers juist tae
+look at him," Drumsheugh expatiated afterwards to Hillocks, "for a' saw
+noo that there was tae be a stand-up fecht atween him an' deith for
+Saunders, and when a' thocht o' Bell an' her bairns, a' kent wha wud
+win.</p>
+
+<p>"'Aff wi' yir coat, Drumsheugh,' said MacLure; 'ye 'ill need tae bend
+yir back the nicht; gither a' the pails in the hoose and fill them at
+the spring, an' a'll come doon tae help ye wi' the carryin'.'"</p>
+
+<p>It was a wonderful ascent up the steep pathway from the spring to the
+cottage on its little knoll, the two men in single file, bareheaded,
+silent, solemn, each with a pail of water in either hand, MacLure
+limping painfully in front, Drumsheugh blowing behind; and when they
+laid down their burden in the sick room, where the bits of furniture had
+been put to a side and a large tub held the centre, Drumsheugh looked
+curiously at the doctor.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="088"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/088.png"><img alt="088.jpg (70K)" src="images/088.jpg" height="462" width="529"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"No, a'm no daft; ye needna be feared; but yir tae get yir first lesson
+in medicine the nicht, an' if we win the battle ye can set up for yersel
+in the Glen.</p>
+
+<p>"There's twa dangers&mdash;that Saunders' strength fails, an' that the force
+o' the fever grows; and we have juist twa weapons.</p>
+
+<p>"Yon milk on the drawers' head an' the bottle of whisky is tae keep up
+the strength, and this cool caller water is tae keep doon the fever. </p>
+
+<p>"We 'ill cast oot the fever by the virtue o' the earth an' the water."</p>
+
+<p>"Div ye mean tae pit Saunders in the tub?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ye hiv it noo, Drumsheugh, and that's hoo a' need yir help."</p>
+
+<p>"Man, Hillocks," Drumsheugh used to moralize, as often as he remembered
+that critical night, "it wes humblin' tae see hoo low sickness can bring
+a pooerfu' man, an' ocht tae keep us frae pride."</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"Hillocks, a' wudna hae wished ony man tae hev seen Saunders&mdash;for it
+wull never pass frae before ma een as long as a' live&mdash;but a' wish a'
+the Glen hed stude by MacLure kneelin' on the floor wi' his sleeves up
+tae his oxters and waitin' on Saunders.</p>
+
+<p>"Yon big man wes as pitifu' an' gentle as a wumman, and when he laid the
+puir fallow in his bed again, he happit him ower as a mither dis her
+bairn."</p>
+
+<p>Thrice it was done, Drumsheugh ever bringing up colder water from the
+spring, and twice MacLure was silent; but after the third time there was
+a gleam in his eye.</p>
+
+<p>"We're haudin' oor ain; we're no bein' maistered, at ony rate; mair a'
+canna say for three oors.</p>
+
+<p>"We 'ill no need the water again, Drumsheugh; gae oot and tak a breath
+o' air; a'm on gaird masel."</p>
+
+<p>It was the hour before daybreak, and Drumsheugh wandered through fields
+he had trodden since childhood. The cattle lay sleeping in the pastures;
+their shadowy forms, with a patch of whiteness here and there, having a
+weird suggestion of death. He heard the burn running over the stones;
+fifty years ago he had made a dam that lasted till winter. The hooting
+of an owl made him start; one had frightened him as a boy so that he ran
+home to his mother&mdash;she died thirty years ago. The smell of ripe corn
+filled the air; it would soon be cut and garnered. He could see the dim
+outlines of his house, all dark and cold; no one he loved was beneath
+the roof. The lighted window in Saunders' cottage told where a man hung
+between life and death, but love was in that home. The futility of life
+arose before this lonely man, and overcame his heart with an
+indescribable sadness. What a vanity was all human labour, what a
+mystery all human life.</p>
+
+
+<a name="091"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/091.png"><img alt="091.jpg (50K)" src="images/091.jpg" height="263" width="472"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>But while he stood, subtle change came over the night, and the air
+trembled round him as if one had whispered. Drumsheugh lifted his head
+and looked eastwards. A faint grey stole over the distant horizon, and
+suddenly a cloud reddened before his eyes. The sun was not in sight, but
+was rising, and sending forerunners before his face. The cattle began
+to stir, a blackbird burst into song, and before Drumsheugh crossed the
+threshold of Saunders' house, the first ray of the sun had broken on a
+peak of the Grampians.</p>
+
+<p>MacLure left the bedside, and as the light of the candle fell on
+the doctor's face, Drumsheugh could see that it was going well with
+Saunders.</p>
+
+<p>"He's nae waur; an' it's half six noo; it's ower sune tae say mair, but
+a'm houpin' for the best. Sit doon and take a sleep, for ye're needin'
+'t, Drumsheugh, an', man, ye hae worked for it."</p>
+
+<p>As he dozed off, the last thing Drumsheugh saw was the doctor sitting
+erect in his chair, a clenched fist resting on the bed, and his eyes
+already bright with the vision of victory.</p>
+
+<p>He awoke with a start to find the room flooded with the morning
+sunshine, and every trace of last night's work removed.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor was bending over the bed, and speaking to Saunders.</p>
+
+<p>"It's me, Saunders, Doctor MacLure, ye ken; dinna try tae speak or move;
+juist let this drap milk slip ower&mdash;ye 'ill be needin' yir breakfast,
+lad&mdash;and gang tae sleep again."</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="094"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/094.png"><img alt="094.jpg (96K)" src="images/094.jpg" height="757" width="456"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>Five minutes, and Saunders had fallen into a deep, healthy sleep, all
+tossing and moaning come to an end. Then MacLure stepped softly across
+the floor, picked up his coat and waistcoat, and went out at the door.
+Drumsheugh arose and followed him without a word. They passed through
+the little garden, sparkling with dew, and beside the byre, where Hawkie
+rattled her chain, impatient for Bell's coming, and by Saunders' little
+strip of corn ready for the scythe, till they reached an open field.
+There they came to a halt, and Doctor MacLure for once allowed himself
+to go.</p>
+
+<p>His coat he flung east and his waistcoat west, as far as he could hurl
+them, and it was plain he would have shouted had he been a complete mile
+from Saunders' room. Any less distance was useless for the adequate
+expression. He struck Drumsheugh a mighty blow that well-nigh levelled
+that substantial man in the dust and then the doctor of Drumtochty
+issued his bulletin.</p>
+
+<p>"Saunders wesna tae live through the nicht, but he's livin' this meenut,
+an' like to live.</p>
+
+<p>"He's got by the warst clean and fair, and wi' him that's as good as
+cure.</p>
+
+<p>"It' ill be a graund waukenin' for Bell; she 'ill no be a weedow yet,
+nor the bairnies fatherless.</p>
+
+<p>"There's nae use glowerin' at me, Drumsheugh, for a body's daft at a
+time, an' a' canna contain masel' and a'm no gaein' tae try."</p>
+
+<p>Then it dawned on Drumsheugh that the doctor was attempting the Highland
+fling.</p>
+
+<p>"He's 'ill made tae begin wi'," Drumsheugh explained in the kirkyard
+next 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' the
+Hielan flings a' ever saw yon wes the bonniest.</p>
+
+<p>"A' hevna shaken ma ain legs for thirty years, but a' confess tae a turn
+masel. Ye may lauch an' ye like, neeburs, but the thocht o' Bell an'
+the news that wes waitin' her got the better o' me."</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="097"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/097.png"><img alt="097.jpg (57K)" src="images/097.jpg" height="712" width="366"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>Drumtochty did not laugh. Drumtochty looked as if it could have done
+quite otherwise for joy.</p>
+
+<p>"A' wud hae made a third gin a hed been there," announced Hillocks,
+aggressively.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="098"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/098.png"><img alt="098.jpg (37K)" src="images/098.jpg" height="273" width="483"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"Come on, Drumsheugh," said Jamie Soutar, "gie's the end o't; it wes a
+michty mornin'."</p>
+
+<p>"'We're twa auld fules,' says MacLure tae me, and he gaithers up his
+claithes. 'It wud set us better tae be tellin' Bell.'</p>
+
+<p>"She wes sleepin' on the top o' her bed wrapped in a plaid, fair worn
+oot wi' three weeks' nursin' o' Saunders, but at the first touch she was
+oot upon the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"'Is Saunders deein', doctor?' she cries. 'Ye promised tae wauken me;
+dinna tell me it's a' ower.'</p>
+
+<p>"'There's nae deein' aboot him, Bell; ye're no tae lose yir man this
+time, sae far as a' can see. Come ben an' jidge for yersel'.'</p>
+
+<p>"Bell lookit at Saunders, and the tears of joy fell on the bed like
+rain.</p>
+
+<p>"'The shadow's lifted,' she said; 'he's come back frae the mooth o' the
+tomb.</p>
+
+<p>"'A' prayed last nicht that the Lord wud leave Saunders till the laddies
+cud dae for themselves, an' thae words came intae ma mind, 'Weepin' may
+endure for a nicht, but joy cometh in the mornin'."</p>
+
+<p>"'The Lord heard ma prayer, and joy hes come in the mornin',' an' she
+gripped the doctor's hand.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="100"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/100.png"><img alt="100.jpg (63K)" src="images/100.jpg" height="474" width="432"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"'Ye've been the instrument, Doctor MacLure. Ye wudna gie him up, and ye
+did what nae ither cud for him, an' a've ma man the day, and the bairns
+hae their father.'</p>
+
+<p>"An' afore MacLure kent what she was daein', Bell lifted his hand to her
+lips an' kissed it."</p>
+
+<p>"Did she, though?" cried Jamie. "Wha wud hae thocht there wes as muckle
+spunk in Bell?"</p>
+
+<p>"MacLure, of coorse, was clean scandalized," continued Drumsheugh, "an'
+pooed awa his hand as if it hed been burned.</p>
+
+<p>"Nae man can thole that kind o' fraikin', and a' never heard o' sic
+a thing in the parish, but we maun excuse Bell, neeburs; it wes an
+occasion by ordinar," and Drumsheugh made Bell's apology to Drumtochty
+for such an excess of feeling.</p>
+
+<p>"A' see naethin' tae excuse," insisted Jamie, who was in great fettle
+that Sabbath; "the doctor hes never been burdened wi' fees, and a'm
+judgin' he coonted a wumman's gratitude that he saved frae weedowhood
+the best he ever got."</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="102"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/102.png"><img alt="102.jpg (90K)" src="images/102.jpg" height="725" width="356"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"A' gaed up tae the Manse last nicht," concluded Drumsheugh, "and telt
+the minister hoo the doctor focht aucht oors for Saunders' life, an'
+won, and ye never saw a man sae carried. He walkit up and doon the room
+a' the time, and every other meenut he blew his nose like a trumpet.</p>
+
+<p>"'I've a cold in my head to-night, Drumsheugh,' says he; 'never mind
+me.'"</p>
+
+<p>"A've hed the same masel in sic circumstances; they come on sudden,"
+said Jamie.</p>
+
+<p>"A' wager there 'ill be a new bit in the laist prayer the day, an'
+somethin' worth hearin'."</p>
+
+<p>And the fathers went into kirk in great expectation.</p>
+
+<p>"We beseech Thee for such as be sick, that Thy hand may be on them for
+good, and that Thou wouldst restore them again to health and strength,"
+was the familiar petition of every Sabbath.</p>
+
+<p>The congregation waited in a silence that might be heard, and were not
+disappointed that morning, for the minister continued:</p>
+
+<p>"Especially we tender Thee hearty thanks that Thou didst spare Thy
+servant who was brought down into the dust of death, and hast given him
+back to his wife and children, and unto that end didst wonderfully bless
+the skill of him who goes out and in amongst us, the beloved physician
+of this parish and adjacent districts."</p>
+
+<p>"Didna a' tell ye, neeburs?" said Jamie, as they stood at the kirkyard
+gate before dispersing; "there's no a man in the coonty cud hae dune
+it better. 'Beloved physician,' an' his 'skill,' tae, an' bringing in
+'adjacent districts'; that's Glen Urtach; it wes handsome, and the
+doctor earned it, ay, every word.</p>
+
+<p>"It's an awfu' peety he didna hear you; but dear knows whar he is the
+day, maist likely up&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Jamie stopped suddenly at the sound of a horse's feet, and there, coming
+down the avenue of beech trees that made a long vista from the kirk
+gate, they saw the doctor and Jess.</p>
+
+<p>One thought flashed through the minds of the fathers of the
+commonwealth.</p>
+
+<p>It ought to be done as he passed, and it would be done if it were not
+Sabbath. Of course it was out of the question on Sabbath.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor is now distinctly visible, riding after his fashion.</p>
+
+<p>There was never such a chance, if it were only Saturday; and each man
+reads his own regret in his neighbor's face.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor is nearing them rapidly; they can imagine the shepherd's
+tartan.</p>
+
+<p>Sabbath or no Sabbath, the Glen cannot let him pass without some tribute
+of their pride.</p>
+
+<p>Jess had recognized friends, and the doctor is drawing rein.</p>
+
+<p>"It hes tae be dune," said Jamie desperately, "say what ye like."
+Then they all looked towards him, and Jamie led.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="106"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/106.png"><img alt="106.jpg (71K)" src="images/106.jpg" height="503" width="474"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"Hurrah," swinging his Sabbath hat in the air, "hurrah," and once more,
+"hurrah," Whinnie Knowe, Drumsheugh, and Hillocks joining lustily, but
+Tammas Mitchell carrying all before him, for he had found at last an
+expression for his feelings that rendered speech unnecessary.</p>
+
+<p>It was a solitary experience for horse and rider, and Jess bolted
+without delay. But the sound followed and surrounded them, and as they
+passed the corner of the kirkyard, a figure waved his college cap over
+the wall and gave a cheer on his own account.</p>
+
+<p>"God bless you, doctor, and well done."</p>
+
+<p>"If it isna the minister," cried Drumsheugh, "in his goon an' bans, tae
+think o' that; but a' respeck him for it."</p>
+
+<p>Then Drumtochty became self-conscious, and went home in confusion of
+face and unbroken silence, except Jamie Soutar, who faced his neighbors
+at the parting of the ways without shame.</p>
+
+<p>"A' wud dae it a' ower again if a' hed the chance; he got naethin' but
+his due." It was two miles before Jess composed her mind, and the doctor
+and she could discuss it quietly together.</p>
+
+<p>"A' can hardly believe ma ears, Jess, an' the Sabbath tae; their verra
+jidgment hes gane frae the fouk o' Drumtochty.</p>
+
+<p>"They've heard about Saunders, a'm thinkin', wumman, and they're pleased
+we brocht him roond; he's fairly on the mend, ye ken, noo.</p>
+
+<p>"A' never expeckit the like o' this, though, and it wes juist a wee
+thingie mair than a' cud hae stude.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye hev yir share in't tae, lass; we've hed mony a hard nicht and day
+thegither, an' yon wes oor reward. No mony men in this warld 'ill ever
+get a better, for it cam frae the hert o' honest fouk."</p>
+
+
+<br><br>
+
+
+
+<center>
+<table summary="" cellPadding=4 border=3>
+<tr><td>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="p2.htm">Previous Part</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+</td><td>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="9320-h.htm">Main Index</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+</td><td>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="p4.htm">Next Part</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+ </td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+
+
+</body>
+</html>
+
+
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+<head>
+<title>A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL, Part 4</title>
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+<h1>Part 4</h1>
+
+
+<center>
+<table summary="" cellPadding=4 border=3>
+<tr><td>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="p3.htm">Previous Part</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+</td><td>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="9320-h.htm">Main Index</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+</td><td>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="p5.htm">Next Part</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+ </td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+
+<center>
+<h1>A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL</h1>
+
+<h2>by Ian Maclaren</h2>
+<a name="Frontispiece"></a>
+
+<a href="images/Frontispiece.png"><img alt="Frontispiece.jpg (87K)" src="images/Frontispiece.jpg" height="693" width="598"></a>
+
+<a href="images/001.png"><img alt="001.jpg (155K)" src="images/001.jpg" height="817" width="503"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+<center>
+<h1>
+Part 4
+<br><br>
+THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY.</h1>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+<br><br>
+
+<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+<center>
+<table summary="">
+<tr><td>
+
+
+
+[A click on the face of any illustration<br>
+will enlarge it to full size.]
+<br><br>
+<a href="#Frontispiece">DR. MacLURE</a><br>
+<a href="#110">BOOK IV. THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY</a><br>
+<a href="#112">Comin' in Frae Glen Urtach</a><br>
+<a href="#115">Drumsheugh was Full of Tact</a><br>
+<a href="#118">Told Drumsheugh that the Doctor was not Able to Rise</a><br>
+<a href="#121">With the Old Warm Grip</a><br>
+<a href="#124">Drumsheugh Looked Wistfully</a><br>
+<a href="#128">Wud Gie Her a Bite o' Grass</a><br>
+<a href="#130">Ma Mither's Bible</a><br>
+<a href="#134">It's a Coorse Nicht, Jess</a><br>
+<a href="#137">She's Carryin' a Licht in Her Hand</a><br>
+
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+<h2>
+PREFACE</h2>
+
+<p>It is with great good will that I write this short preface to the
+edition of "A Doctor of the Old School" (which has been illustrated by
+Mr. Gordon after an admirable and understanding fashion) because there
+are two things that I should like to say to my readers, being also my
+friends.</p>
+
+<p>One, is to answer a question that has been often and fairly asked. Was
+there ever any doctor so self-forgetful and so utterly Christian as
+William MacLure? To which I am proud to reply, on my conscience: Not one
+man, but many in Scotland and in the South country. I will dare prophecy
+also across the sea.</p>
+
+<p>It has been one man's good fortune to know four country doctors, not one
+of whom was without his faults&mdash;Weelum was not perfect&mdash;but who, each
+one, might have sat for my hero. Three are now resting from their
+labors, and the fourth, if he ever should see these lines, would never
+identify himself.</p>
+
+<p>Then I desire to thank my readers, and chiefly the medical profession
+for the reception given to the Doctor of Drumtochty.</p>
+
+<p>For many years I have desired to pay some tribute to a class whose
+service to the community was known to every countryman, but after the
+tale had gone forth my heart failed. For it might have been despised
+for the little grace of letters in the style and because of the outward
+roughness of the man. But neither his biographer nor his circumstances
+have 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 in
+commendation of Weelum MacLure, and many were from doctors who had
+received new courage. It is surely more honor than a new writer could
+ever have deserved to receive the approbation of a profession whose
+charity puts us all to shame.</p>
+
+<p>May I take this first opportunity to declare how deeply my heart has
+been 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 face
+to face.</p>
+
+<p>IAN MACLAREN. Liverpool, Oct. 4, 1895.</p>
+
+<br><br>
+
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="IV"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h1>THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY.</h1>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<a name="110"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/110.png"><img alt="110.jpg (68K)" src="images/110.jpg" height="623" width="525"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+
+<p>Drumtochty had a vivid recollection of the winter when Dr. MacLure was
+laid up for two months with a broken leg, and the Glen was dependent on
+the dubious ministrations of the Kildrummie doctor. Mrs. Macfayden
+also pretended to recall a "whup" of some kind or other he had in the
+fifties, but this was considered to be rather a pyrotechnic display of
+Elspeth's superior memory than a serious statement of fact. MacLure
+could not have ridden through the snow of forty winters without
+suffering, yet no one ever heard him complain, and he never pled
+illness to any messenger by night or day.</p>
+
+<p>"It took me," said Jamie Soutar to Milton afterwards, "the feck o' ten
+meenuts tae howk him 'an' Jess oot ae snawy nicht when Drums turned bad
+sudden, and if he didna try to excuse himself for no hearing me at aince
+wi' some story aboot juist comin' in frae Glen Urtach, and no bein' in
+his bed for the laist twa nichts.</p>
+
+<p>"He wes that carefu' o' himsel an' lazy that if it hedna been for the
+siller, a've often thocht, Milton, he wud never hae dune a handstroke o'
+wark in the Glen.</p>
+
+<p>"What scunnered me wes the wy the bairns were ta'en in wi' him. Man,
+a've seen him tak a wee laddie on his knee that his ain mither cudna
+quiet, an' lilt 'Sing a song o' saxpence' till the bit mannie would be
+lauchin' like a gude are, an' pooin' the doctor's beard.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="112"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/112.png"><img alt="112.jpg (57K)" src="images/112.jpg" height="466" width="463"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"As for the weemen, he fair cuist a glamour ower them; they're daein'
+naethin' noo but speak aboot this body and the ither he cured, an' hoo
+he aye hed a couthy word for sick fouk. Weemen hae nae discernment,
+Milton; tae hear them speak ye wud think MacLure hed been a releegious
+man like yersel, although, as ye said, he wes little mair than a Gallio.</p>
+
+<p>"Bell Baxter was haverin' awa in the shop tae sic an extent aboot the wy
+MacLure brocht roond Saunders when he hed the fever that a' gied oot at
+the door, a' wes that disgusted, an' a'm telt when Tammas Mitchell heard
+the news in the smiddy he wes juist on the greeting.</p>
+
+<p>"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 as
+sune as ye cam intae the pairish."</p>
+
+<p>It is the penalty of a cynic that he must have some relief for his
+secret grief, and Milton began to weary of life in Jamie's hands
+during those days.</p>
+
+<p>Drumtochty was not observant in the matter of health, but they had grown
+sensitive about Dr. MacLure, and remarked in the kirkyard all summer
+that he was failing.</p>
+
+<p>"He wes aye spare," said Hillocks, "an' he's been sair twisted for the
+laist twenty year, but a' never mind him booed till the year. An' he's
+gaein' intae sma' buke (bulk), an' a' dinna like that, neeburs.</p>
+
+<p>"The Glen wudna dae weel withoot Weelum MacLure, an' he's no as young as
+he wes. Man, Drumsheugh, ye micht wile him aff tae the saut water atween
+the neeps and the hairst. He's been workin' forty year for a holiday,
+an' it's aboot due."</p>
+
+<p>Drumsheugh was full of tact, and met MacLure quite by accident on the
+road.</p>
+
+<p>"Saunders'll no need me till the shearing begins," he explained to the
+doctor, "an' a'm gaein' tae Brochty for a turn o' the hot baths; they're
+fine for the rheumatics.</p>
+
+
+<a name="115"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/115.png"><img alt="115.jpg (49K)" src="images/115.jpg" height="456" width="477"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"Wull ye no come wi' me for auld lang syne? it's lonesome for a solitary
+man, an' it wud dae ye gude."</p>
+
+<p>"Na, na, Drumsheugh," said MacLure, who understood perfectly, "a've dune
+a' thae years withoot a break, an' a'm laith (unwilling) tae be takin'
+holidays at the tail end.</p>
+
+<p>"A'll no be mony months wi' ye a' thegither noo, an' a'm wanting tae
+spend a' the time a' hev in the Glen. Ye see yersel that a'll sune be
+getting ma lang rest, an' a'll no deny that a'm wearyin' for it."</p>
+
+<p>As autumn passed into winter, the Glen noticed that the doctor's hair
+had turned grey, and that his manner had lost all its roughness. A
+feeling of secret gratitude filled their hearts, and they united in a
+conspiracy of attention. Annie Mitchell knitted a huge comforter in red
+and white, which the doctor wore in misery for one whole day, out of
+respect for Annie, and then hung it in his sitting-room as a wall
+ornament. Hillocks used to intercept him with hot drinks, and one
+drifting day compelled him to shelter till the storm abated. Flora
+Campbell brought a wonderful compound of honey and whiskey, much tasted
+in Auchindarroch, for his cough, and the mother of young Burnbrae filled
+his cupboard with black jam, as a healing measure. Jamie Soutar seemed
+to have an endless series of jobs in the doctor's direction, and looked
+in "juist tae rest himsel" in the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>MacLure had been slowly taking in the situation, and at last he
+unburdened himself one night to Jamie.</p>
+
+<p>"What ails the fouk, think ye? for they're aye lecturin' me noo tae
+tak care o' the weet and tae wrap masel up, an' there's no a week but
+they're sendin' bit presents tae the house, till a'm fair ashamed."</p>
+
+<p>"Oo, a'll explain that in a meenut," answered Jamie, "for a' ken the
+Glen weel. Ye see they're juist try in' the Scripture plan o' heapin'
+coals o' fire on yer head.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="118"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/118.png"><img alt="118.jpg (128K)" src="images/118.jpg" height="789" width="488"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"Here ye've been negleckin' the fouk in seeckness an' lettin' them dee
+afore their  freends' eyes withoot a fecht, an' refusin' tae gang tae a
+puir wumman in her tribble, an' frichtenin' the bairns&mdash;no, a'm no
+dune&mdash;and scourgin' us wi' fees, and livin' yersel' on the fat o' the
+land.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye've been carryin' on this trade ever sin yir father dee'd, and the
+Glen didna notis. But ma word, they've fund ye oot at laist, an' they're
+gaein' tae mak ye suffer for a' yir ill usage. Div ye understand noo?"
+said Jamie, savagely.</p>
+
+<p>For a while MacLure was silent, and then he only said:</p>
+
+<p>"It's little a' did for the puir bodies; but ye hev a gude hert, Jamie,
+a rael good hert."</p>
+
+<p>It was a bitter December Sabbath, and the fathers were settling the
+affairs of the parish ankle deep in snow, when MacLure's old housekeeper
+told Drumsheugh that the doctor was not able to rise, and wished to see
+him in the afternoon. "Ay, ay," said Hillocks, shaking his head, and
+that day Drumsheugh omitted four pews with the ladle, while Jamie was so
+vicious on the way home that none could endure him.</p>
+
+<p>Janet had lit a fire in the unused grate, and hung a plaid by the window
+to break the power of the cruel north wind, but the bare room with its
+half-a-dozen bits of furniture and a worn strip of carpet, and the
+outlook upon the snow drifted up to the second pane of the window and
+the black firs laden with their icy burden, sent a chill to Drumsheugh's
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor had weakened sadly, and could hardly lift his head, but his
+face lit up at the sight of his visitor, and the big hand, which was now
+quite refined in its whiteness, came out from the bed-clothes with the
+old warm grip.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="121"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/121.png"><img alt="121.jpg (72K)" src="images/121.jpg" height="581" width="452"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"A' wesna sure till last nicht, an' then a' felt it wudna be lang, an'
+a' took a wearyin' this mornin' tae see ye.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>Drumsheugh was much shaken, and the sound of the Christian name, which
+he had not heard since his mother's death, gave him a "grue" (shiver),
+as if one had spoken from the other world.</p>
+
+<p>"It's maist awfu' tae hear ye speakin' aboot deein', Weelum; a' canna
+bear it. We 'ill hae the Muirtown doctor up, an' ye 'ill be aboot again
+in nae time.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye hevna ony sair tribble; ye're juist trachled wi' hard wark an'
+needin' a rest. Dinna say ye're gaein' tae leave us, Weelum; we canna
+dae withoot ye in Drumtochty;" and Drumsheugh looked wistfully for some
+word of hope.</p>
+
+<p>"Na, na, Paitrick, naethin' can be dune, an' it's ower late tae send for
+ony doctor. There's a knock that canna be mista'en, an' a' heard it last
+night. A've focht deith for ither fouk mair than forty year, but ma ain
+time hes come at laist.</p>
+
+<p>"A've nae tribble worth mentionin'&mdash;a bit titch o' bronchitis&mdash;an' a've
+hed a graund constitution; but a'm fair worn oot, Paitrick; that's ma
+complaint, an' its past curin'."</p>
+
+<p>Drumsheugh went over to the fireplace, and for a while did nothing but
+break up the smouldering peats, whose smoke powerfully affected his nose
+and eyes.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="124"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/124.png"><img alt="124.jpg (82K)" src="images/124.jpg" height="637" width="484"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"When ye're ready, Paitrick, there's twa or three little trokes a' wud
+like ye tae look aifter, an' a'll tell ye aboot them as lang's ma head's
+clear.</p>
+
+<p>"A' didna keep buiks, as ye ken, for a' aye hed a guid memory, so
+naebody 'ill be harried for money aifter ma deith, and ye 'ill hae nae
+accoonts tae collect.</p>
+
+<p>"But the fouk are honest in Drumtochty, and they 'ill be offerin' ye
+siller, an' a'll gie ye ma mind aboot it. Gin it be a puir body, tell
+her tae keep it and get a bit plaidie wi' the money, and she 'ill maybe
+think o' her auld doctor at a time. Gin it be a bien (well-to-do) man,
+tak half of what he offers, for a Drumtochty man wud scorn to be mean in
+sic circumstances; and if onybody needs a doctor an' canna pay for him,
+see he's no left tae dee when a'm oot o' the road."</p>
+
+<p>"Nae fear o' that as lang as a'm livin', Weelum; that hundred's still
+tae the fore, ye ken, an' a'll tak care it's weel spent.</p>
+
+<p>"Yon wes the best job we ever did thegither, an' dookin' Saunders, ye
+'ill no forget that nicht, Weelum"&mdash;a gleam came into the doctor's
+eyes&mdash;"tae say neathin' o' the Highlan' fling."</p>
+
+<p>The remembrance of that great victory came upon Drumsheugh, and tried
+his fortitude.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a' for the best, Paitrick, an' ye 'ill see that in a whilie. A've
+kent fine that ma day wes ower, an' that ye sud hae a younger man.</p>
+
+<p>"A' did what a' cud tae keep up wi' the new medicine, but a' hed little
+time for readin', an' nane for traivellin'.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Weelum, gin ye cairry on sic nonsense ony langer," interrupted
+Drumsheugh, huskily, "a'll leave the hoose; a' canna stand it."</p>
+
+<p>"It's the truth, Paitrick, but we 'ill gae on wi' our wark, far a'm
+failin' fast.</p>
+
+<p>"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.</p>
+
+<p>"But a' wudna like ye tae sell Jess, for she's been a faithfu' servant,
+an' a freend tae. There's a note or twa in that drawer a' savit, an'
+if ye kent ony man that wud gie her a bite o' grass and a sta' in his
+stable till she followed her maister&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>"Confoond ye, Weelum," broke out Drumsheugh; "its doonricht cruel o' ye
+to speak like this tae me. Whar wud Jess gang but tae Drumsheugh? she
+'ill hae her run o' heck an' manger sae lang as she lives; the Glen
+wudna like tae see anither man on Jess, and nae man 'ill ever touch the
+auld mare."</p>
+
+
+<a name="128"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/128.png"><img alt="128.jpg (57K)" src="images/128.jpg" height="542" width="435"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"Dinna mind me, Paitrick, for a" expeckit this; but ye ken we're no
+verra gleg wi' oor tongues in Drumtochty, an' dinna tell a' that's in
+oor hearts.</p>
+
+<p>"Weel, that's a' that a' mind, an' the rest a' leave tae yersel'. A've
+neither kith nor kin tae bury me, sae you an' the neeburs 'ill need tae
+lat me doon; but gin Tammas Mitchell or Saunders be stannin' near and
+lookin' as if they wud like a cord, gie't tae them, Paitrick. They're
+baith dour chiels, and haena muckle tae say, but Tammas hes a graund
+hert, and there's waur fouk in the Glen than Saunders.</p>
+
+<p>"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?</p>
+
+<p>"Ye 'ill find ma mither's Bible on the drawers' heid, but ye 'ill need
+tae come close tae the bed, for a'm no hearin' or seein' sae weel as a'
+wes when ye cam."</p>
+
+<p>Drumsheugh put on his spectacles and searched for a comfortable
+Scripture, while the light of the lamp fell on his shaking hands and the
+doctor's face where the shadow was now settling.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="130"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/130.png"><img alt="130.jpg (48K)" src="images/130.jpg" height="315" width="471"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"Ma mither aye wantit this read tae her when she wes sober" (weak), and
+Drumsheugh began, "In My Father's house are many mansions," but MacLure
+stopped him.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a bonnie word, an' yir mither wes a sanct; but it's no for the
+like o' me. It's ower gude; a' daurna tak it.</p>
+
+<p>"Shut the buik an' let it open itsel, an' ye 'ill get a bit a've been
+readin' every nicht the laist month."</p>
+
+<p>Then Drumsheugh found the Parable wherein the Master tells us what God
+thinks of a Pharisee and of a penitent sinner, till he came to the
+words: "And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so
+much as his eyes to heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be
+merciful to me a sinner."</p>
+
+<p>"That micht hae been written for me, Paitrick, or ony ither auld sinner
+that hes feenished his life, an' hes naethin' tae say for himsel'.</p>
+
+<p>"It wesna easy for me tae get tae kirk, but a' cud hae managed wi' a
+stretch, 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.</p>
+
+<p>"It's ower late tae mend, but ye 'ill maybe juist say to the fouk that I
+wes sorry, an' a'm houpin' that the Almichty 'ill hae mercy on me.</p>
+
+<p>"Cud ye ... pit up a bit prayer, Paitrick?"</p>
+
+<p>"A' haena the words," said Drumsheugh in great distress; "wud ye like's
+tae send for the minister?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's no the time for that noo, an' a' wud rather hae yersel'&mdash;juist
+what's in yir heart, Paitrick: the Almichty 'ill ken the lave (rest)
+Himsel'."</p>
+
+<p>So Drumsheugh knelt and prayed with many pauses.</p>
+
+<p>"Almichty God ... dinna be hard on Weelum MacLure, for he's no been hard
+wi' onybody in Drumtochty.... Be kind tae him as he's been tae us a' for
+forty year.... We're a' sinners afore Thee.... Forgive him what he's
+dune wrang, an' dinna cuist it up tae him.... Mind the fouk he's helpit
+.... the wee-men an' bairnies.... an' gie him a welcome hame, for he's
+sair needin't after a' his wark.... Amen."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank ye, Paitrick, and gude nicht tae ye. Ma ain true freend, gie's
+yir hand, for a'll maybe no ken ye again.</p>
+
+<p>"Noo a'll say ma mither's prayer and hae a sleep, but ye 'ill no leave
+me till a' is ower."</p>
+
+<p>Then he repeated as he had done every night of his life:</p>
+
+<center>
+<table summary="poem">
+<tr><td>
+<p>  "This night I lay me down to sleep,<br>
+  I pray the Lord my soul to keep.<br>
+  And if I die before I wake,<br>
+  I pray the Lord my soul to take."</p>
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+	</center>
+
+<p>He was sleeping quietly when the wind drove the snow against the window
+with a sudden "swish;" and he instantly awoke, so to say, in his sleep.
+Some one needed him.</p>
+
+<p>"Are ye frae Glen Urtach?" and an unheard voice seemed to have answered
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Worse is she, an' suffering awfu'; that's no lichtsome; ye did richt
+tae come.</p>
+
+<p>"The front door's drifted up; gang roond tae the back, an' ye 'ill get
+intae the kitchen; a'll be ready in a meenut.</p>
+
+<p>"Gie's a hand wi' the lantern when a'm saidling Jess, an' ye needna come
+on till daylicht; a' ken the road."</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="134"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/134.png"><img alt="134.jpg (68K)" src="images/134.jpg" height="475" width="480"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>Then he was away in his sleep on some errand of mercy, and struggling
+through the storm. "It's a coorse nicht, Jess, an' heavy traivellin';
+can ye see afore ye, lass? for a'm clean confused wi' the snaw; bide a
+wee till a' find the diveesion o' the roads; it's aboot here back or
+forrit.</p>
+
+<p>"Steady, lass, steady, dinna plunge; i'ts a drift we're in, but ye're no
+sinkin'; ... up noo; ... there ye are on the road again.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh, it's deep the nicht, an' hard on us baith, but there's a puir
+wumman micht dee if we didna warstle through; ... that's it; ye ken fine
+what a'm sayin.'</p>
+
+<p>"We 'ill hae tae leave the road here, an' tak tae the muir. Sandie 'ill
+no can leave the wife alane tae meet us; ... feel for yersel" lass, and
+keep oot o' the holes.</p>
+
+<p>"Yon's the hoose black in the snaw. Sandie! man, ye frichtened us; a'
+didna see ye ahint the dyke; hoos the wife?"</p>
+
+<p>After a while he began again:</p>
+
+<p>"Ye're fair dune, Jess, and so a' am masel'; we're baith gettin' auld,
+an' dinna tak sae weel wi' the nicht wark.</p>
+
+<p>"We 'ill sune be hame noo; this is the black wood, and it's no lang
+aifter that; we're ready for oor beds, Jess.... ay, ye like a clap at a
+time; mony a mile we've gaed hegither.</p>
+
+<p>"Yon's the licht in the kitchen window; nae wonder ye're nickering
+(neighing).... it's been a stiff journey; a'm tired, lass.... a'm tired
+tae deith," and the voice died into silence.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor has forgotten the toil of later years, and has gone back to
+his boyhood.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="137"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/137.png"><img alt="137.jpg (95K)" src="images/137.jpg" height="720" width="397"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want,"  he repeated, till he came to
+the last verse, and then he hesitated.</p>
+<center>
+<table summary="poem">
+<tr><td>
+<p>  "Goodness and mercy all my life<br>
+  Shall surely follow me.</p>
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+<p>"Follow me ... and ... and ... what's next? Mither said I wes tae haed
+ready when she cam.</p>
+
+<p>"'A'll come afore ye gang tae sleep, Wullie, but ye 'ill no get yir kiss
+unless ye can feenish the psalm.'</p>
+
+<p>"And ... in God's house ... for evermore my ... hoo dis it rin? a canna
+mind the next word ... my, my&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It's ower dark noo tae read it, an' mither 'ill sune be comin."</p>
+
+<p>Drumsheugh, in an agony, whispered into his ear, "'My dwelling-place,'
+Weelum."</p>
+
+<p>"That's it, that's it a' noo; wha said it?</p>
+<center>
+<table summary="poem">
+<tr><td>
+<p>  "And in God's house for evermore<br>
+  My dwelling-place shall be.</p>
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+
+<p>"A'm ready noo, an' a'll get ma kiss when mither comes; a' wish she wud
+come, for a'm tired an' wantin' tae sleep.</p>
+
+<p>"Yon's her step ... an' she's carryin' a licht in her hand; a' see it
+through the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Mither! a' kent ye wudna forget yir laddie for ye promised tae come,
+and a've feenished ma psalm.</p>
+<center>
+<table summary="poem">
+<tr><td>
+<p>  "And in God's house for evermore<br>
+  My dwelling-place shall be.</p>
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+
+<p>"Gie me the kiss, mither, for a've been waitin' for ye, an' a'll sune be
+asleep."</p>
+
+<p>The grey morning light fell on Drumsheugh, still holding his friend's
+cold hand, and staring at a hearth where the fire had died down into
+white ashes; but the peace on the doctor's face was of one who rested
+from his labours.</p>
+
+
+
+<br><br>
+
+
+<center>
+<table summary="" cellPadding=4 border=3>
+<tr><td>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="p3.htm">Previous Part</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+</td><td>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="9320-h.htm">Main Index</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+</td><td>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="p5.htm">Next Part</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+ </td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+
+</body>
+</html>
+
+
+
+
+
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+<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN">
+<html>
+<head>
+<title>A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL, Part 5</title>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1">
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+
+<h1>Part 5</h1>
+
+
+<center>
+<table summary="" cellPadding=4 border=3>
+<tr><td>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="p4.htm">Previous Part</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+</td><td>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="9320-h.htm">Main Index</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+ </td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<center>
+<h1>A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL</h1>
+
+<h2>by Ian Maclaren</h2>
+<a name="Frontispiece"></a>
+
+<a href="images/Frontispiece.png"><img alt="Frontispiece.jpg (87K)" src="images/Frontispiece.jpg" height="693" width="598"></a>
+
+<a href="images/001.png"><img alt="001.jpg (155K)" src="images/001.jpg" height="817" width="503"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br><br><br>
+<center>
+<h1>
+Part 5
+<br><br>THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN
+</h1></center>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+<center>
+<table summary="">
+<tr><td>
+
+
+[A click on the face of any illustration<br>
+will enlarge it to full size.]
+<br><br>
+<a href="#Frontispiece">DR. MacLURE</a><br>
+<a href="#141">BOOK V. THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN</a><br>
+<a href="#143">The Tochty Ran with Black, Swollen Stream</a><br>
+<a href="#145">Toiled Across the Glen</a><br>
+<a href="#147">There was Nae Use Trying tae Dig Oot the Front Door</a><br>
+<a href="#148">Ane of Them Gied Ower the Head in a Drift</a><br>
+<a href="#151">Two Men in Plaids were Descending the Hill</a><br>
+<a href="#153">Jined Hands and Cam ower Fine</a><br>
+<a href="#156">Twa Horses, Ane afore the Ither</a><br>
+<a href="#159">He had Left His Overcoat, and was in Black</a><br>
+<a href="#164">Death after All was Victor</a><br>
+<a href="#165">She Began to Neigh</a><br>
+<a href="#168">They had Set to Work</a><br>
+<a href="#169">Standing at the Door</a><br>
+<a href="#174">Finis</a><br>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+<h2>
+PREFACE</h2>
+
+<p>It is with great good will that I write this short preface to the
+edition of "A Doctor of the Old School" (which has been illustrated by
+Mr. Gordon after an admirable and understanding fashion) because there
+are two things that I should like to say to my readers, being also my
+friends.</p>
+
+<p>One, is to answer a question that has been often and fairly asked. Was
+there ever any doctor so self-forgetful and so utterly Christian as
+William MacLure? To which I am proud to reply, on my conscience: Not one
+man, but many in Scotland and in the South country. I will dare prophecy
+also across the sea.</p>
+
+<p>It has been one man's good fortune to know four country doctors, not one
+of whom was without his faults&mdash;Weelum was not perfect&mdash;but who, each
+one, might have sat for my hero. Three are now resting from their
+labors, and the fourth, if he ever should see these lines, would never
+identify himself.</p>
+
+<p>Then I desire to thank my readers, and chiefly the medical profession
+for the reception given to the Doctor of Drumtochty.</p>
+
+<p>For many years I have desired to pay some tribute to a class whose
+service to the community was known to every countryman, but after the
+tale had gone forth my heart failed. For it might have been despised
+for the little grace of letters in the style and because of the outward
+roughness of the man. But neither his biographer nor his circumstances
+have 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 in
+commendation of Weelum MacLure, and many were from doctors who had
+received new courage. It is surely more honor than a new writer could
+ever have deserved to receive the approbation of a profession whose
+charity puts us all to shame.</p>
+
+<p>May I take this first opportunity to declare how deeply my heart has
+been 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 face
+to face.</p>
+
+<p>IAN MACLAREN. Liverpool, Oct. 4, 1895.</p>
+
+<br><br>
+
+
+
+<a name="V"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h1>THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN</h1>
+</center>
+
+
+
+
+
+<a name="141"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/141.png"><img alt="141.jpg (68K)" src="images/141.jpg" height="596" width="543"></a>
+</center>
+
+
+
+<br><br>
+<p>Dr. MacLure was buried during the great snowstorm which is still spoken
+of, and will remain the standard of snowfall in Drumtochty for the
+century. The snow was deep on the Monday, and the men that gave notice
+of his funeral had hard work to reach the doctor's distant patients.
+On Tuesday morning it began to fall again in heavy, fleecy flakes, and
+continued till Thursday, and then on Thursday the north wind rose and
+swept the snow into the hollows of the roads that went to the upland
+farms, and built it into a huge bank at the mouth of Glen Urtach, and
+laid it across our main roads in drifts of every size and the most
+lovely shapes, and filled up crevices in the hills to the depth of fifty
+feet.</p>
+
+<p>On Friday morning the wind had sunk to passing gusts that powdered
+your coat with white, and the sun was shining on one of those winter
+landscapes no townsman can imagine and no countryman ever forgets. The
+Glen, from end to end and side to side, was clothed in a glistering
+mantle white as no fuller on earth could white it, that flung its skirts
+over the clumps of trees and scattered farmhouses, and was only divided
+where the Tochty ran with black, swollen stream. The great moor rose and
+fell in swelling billows of snow that arched themselves over the burns,
+running deep in the mossy ground, and hid the black peat bogs with a
+thin, treacherous crust.</p>
+
+
+<a name="143"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/143.png"><img alt="143.jpg (55K)" src="images/143.jpg" height="496" width="484"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>Beyond, the hills northwards and westwards stood high in white majesty,
+save where the black crags of Glen Urtach broke the line, and, above our
+lower Grampians, we caught glimpses of the distant peaks that lifted
+their heads in holiness unto God.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to me a fitting day for William MacLure's funeral, rather than
+summer time, with its flowers and golden corn. He had not been a soft
+man, nor had he lived an easy life, and now he was to be laid to rest
+amid the austere majesty of winter, yet in the shining of the sun. Jamie
+Soutar, with whom I toiled across the Glen, did not think with me, but
+was gravely concerned.</p>
+
+<p>"Nae doot it's a graund sicht; the like o't is no gien tae us twice in
+a generation, an' nae king wes ever carried tae his tomb in sic a
+cathedral.</p>
+
+<p>"But it's the fouk a'm conseederin', an' hoo they'll win through; it's
+hard eneuch for them 'at's on the road, an' it's clean impossible for
+the lave.</p>
+
+
+<a name="145"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/145.png"><img alt="145.jpg (85K)" src="images/145.jpg" height="698" width="470"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"They 'ill dae their best, every man o' them,  ye may depend on that,
+an' hed it been open weather there wudna hev been six able-bodied
+men missin'.</p>
+
+<p>"A' wes mad at them, because they never said onything when he wes
+leevin', but they felt for a' that what he hed dune, an', a' think, he
+kent it afore he deed.</p>
+
+<p>"He hed juist ae faut, tae ma thinkin', for a' never jidged the waur
+o' him for his titch of rochness&mdash;guid trees hae gnarled bark&mdash;but he
+thotched ower little o' himsel'.</p>
+
+<p>"Noo, gin a' hed asked him hoo mony fouk wud come tae his beerial, he
+wud hae said, 'They 'ill be Drumsheugh an' yersel', an' may be twa or
+three neeburs besides the minister,' an' the fact is that nae man in oor
+time wud hae sic a githerin' if it werena for the storm.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="147"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/147.png"><img alt="147.jpg (59K)" src="images/147.jpg" height="572" width="464"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"Ye see," said Jamie, who had been counting heads all morning, "there's
+six shepherds in Glen Urtaeh&mdash;they're shut up fast; an' there micht hae
+been a gude half dizen frae Dunleith wy, an' a'm telt there's nae road;
+an' there's the heich Glen, nae man cud cross the muir the day, an' it's
+aucht mile round;" and Jamie proceeded to review the Glen in every
+detail of age, driftiness of road and strength of  body, till we arrived
+at the doctor's cottage, when he had settled on a reduction of fifty
+through stress of weather.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="148"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/148.png"><img alt="148.jpg (69K)" src="images/148.jpg" height="759" width="478"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>Drumsheugh was acknowledged as chief mourner by the Glen, and received
+us at the gate with a labored attempt at everyday manners.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye've hed heavy traivellin', a' doot, an' ye 'ill be cauld. It's hard
+weather for the sheep an' a'm thinkin' this 'ill be a feeding storm.</p>
+
+<p>"There wes nae use trying tae dig oot the front door yestreen, for it
+wud hae been drifted up again before morning. We've cleared awa the snow
+at the back for the prayer; ye 'ill get in at the kitchen door.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a puckle Dunleith men&mdash;&mdash;-"</p>
+
+<p>"Wha?" cried Jamie in an instant.</p>
+
+<p>"Dunleith men," said Drumsheugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Div ye mean they're here, whar are they?"</p>
+
+<p>"Drying themsels at the fire, an' no withoot need; ane of them gied
+ower the head in a drift, and his neeburs hed tae pu' him oot.</p>
+
+<p>"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"&mdash;here Drumsheugh's
+voice changed its note, and his public manner disappeared&mdash;"what div ye
+think o' this? every man o' them has on his blacks."</p>
+
+<p>"It's mair than cud be expeckit" said Jamie; "but whar dae yon men come
+frae, Drumsheugh?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"They're Glen Urtach men, Jamie, for are o' them wes at Kildrummie fair
+wi' sheep, but hoo they've wun doon passes me."</p>
+
+<p>"It canna be, Drumsheugh," said Jamie, greatly excited. "Glen Urtach's steikit up
+wi' sna like a locked door.</p>
+
+
+<a name="151"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/151.png"><img alt="151.jpg (64K)" src="images/151.jpg" height="645" width="512"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"Ye're no surely frae the Glen, lads?" as the men leaped the dyke and
+crossed to the back door, the snow falling from their plaids as they
+walked.</p>
+
+<p>"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' there
+wes some kittle (hazardous) drifts."</p>
+
+<p>"It wes grand o' ye tae mak the attempt," said Drumsheugh, "an' a'm gled
+ye're safe."</p>
+
+<p>"He cam through as bad himsel' tae help ma wife," was Charlie's reply.</p>
+
+<p>"They're three mair Urtach shepherds 'ill come in by sune; they're frae
+Upper Urtach an' we saw them fording the river; ma certes it took them
+a' their time, for it wes up tae their waists and rinnin' like a mill
+lade, but they jined hands and cam ower fine." And the Urtach men went
+in to the fire. The Glen began to arrive in twos and threes, and Jamie,
+from a point of vantage at the gate, and under an appearance of utter
+indifference, checked his roll till even he was satisfied.</p>
+
+
+<a name="153"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/153.png"><img alt="153.jpg (52K)" src="images/153.jpg" height="365" width="497"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"Weelum MacLure 'ill hae the beerial he deserves in spite o' sna and
+drifts; it passes a' tae see hoo they've githered frae far an' near.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"Dinna be sae sure o' that, Jamie. Yon's terrible like them on the road,
+wi' Whinnie at their head;" and so it was, twelve in all, only old Adam
+Ross absent, detained by force, being eighty-two years of age.</p>
+
+<p>"It wud hae been temptin' Providence tae cross the muir," Whinnie
+explained, "and it's a fell stap roond; a' doot we're laist."</p>
+
+<p>"See, Jamie," said Drumsheugh, as he went to the house, "gin there be
+ony antern body in sicht afore we begin; we maun mak allooances the day
+wi' twa feet o' sna on the grund, tae say naethin' o' drifts."</p>
+
+<p>"There's something at the turnin', an' it's no fouk; it's a machine o'
+some kind or ither&mdash;maybe a bread cart that's focht its wy up."</p>
+
+<p>"Na, it's no that; there's twa horses, are afore the ither; if it's no a
+dogcairt wi' twa men in the front; they 'ill be comin' tae the beerial."
+"What wud ye sae, Jamie," Hillocks suggested, "but it micht be some o'
+thae Muirtown doctors? they were awfu' chief wi' MacLure."</p>
+
+<p>"It's nae Muirtown doctors," cried Jamie, in great exultation, "nor ony
+ither doctors. A' ken thae horses, and wha's ahind them. Quick, man,
+Hillocks, stop the fouk, and tell Drumsheugh tae come oot, for Lord
+Kilspindie hes come up frae Muirtown Castle."</p>
+
+<p>Jamie himself slipped behind, and did not wish to be seen.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the respeck he's gettin' the day frae high an' low," was Jamie's
+husky apology; "tae think o' them fetchin' their wy doon frae Glen
+Urtach, and toiling roond frae the heich Glen, an' his Lordship driving
+through the drifts a' the road frae Muirtown, juist tae honour Weelum
+MacLure's beerial.</p>
+
+
+<a name="156"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/156.png"><img alt="156.jpg (52K)" src="images/156.jpg" height="598" width="409"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"It's nae ceremony the day, ye may lippen tae it; it's the hert brocht
+the fouk, an' ye  can see it in their faces; ilka man hes his ain
+reason, an' he's thinkin' on't though he's speakin' o' naethin' but the
+storm; he's mindin' the day Weelum pued him out frae the jaws o' death,
+or the nicht he savit the gude wife in her oor o' tribble.</p>
+
+<p>"That's why they pit on their blacks this mornin' afore it wes licht,
+and wrastled through the sna drifts at risk o' life. Drumtochty fouk
+canna say muckle, it's an awfu' peety, and they 'ill dae their best tae
+show naethin', but a' can read it a' in their een.</p>
+
+<p>"But wae's me"&mdash;and Jamie broke down utterly behind a fir tree, so
+tender a thing is a cynic's heart&mdash;"that fouk 'ill tak a man's best wark
+a' his days without a word an' no dae him honour till he dees. Oh, if
+they hed only githered like this juist aince when he wes livin', an' lat
+him see he hedna laboured in vain. His reward has come ower late".</p>
+
+<p>During Jamie's vain regret, the castle trap, bearing the marks of a wild
+passage in the snow-covered wheels, a broken shaft tied with rope, a
+twisted lamp, and the panting horses, pulled up between two rows of
+farmers, and Drumsheugh received his lordship with evident emotion.</p>
+
+<p>"Ma lord ... we never thocht o' this ... an' sic a road."</p>
+
+<p>"How are you, Drumsheugh? and how are you all this wintry day? That's
+how I'm half an hour late; it took us four hours' stiff work for sixteen
+miles, mostly in the drifts, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"It wes gude o' yir lordship, tae mak sic an effort, an' the hale Glen
+wull be gratefu' tae ye, for ony kindness tae him is kindness tae us."</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="159"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/159.png"><img alt="159.jpg (83K)" src="images/159.jpg" height="739" width="392"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"You make too much of it, Drumsheugh," and the clear, firm voice was
+heard of all; "it would have taken more than a few snow drifts to keep
+me from showing my respect to William MacLure's memory."  When all had
+gathered in a half circle before the kitchen door, Lord Kilspindie came
+out&mdash;every man noticed he had left his overcoat, and was in black, like
+the Glen&mdash;and took a place in the middle with Drumsheugh and Burnbrae,
+his two chief tenants, on the right and left, and as the minister
+appeared every man bared his head.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor looked on the company&mdash;a hundred men such as for strength
+and gravity you could hardly have matched in Scotland&mdash;standing out in
+picturesque relief against the white background, and he said:</p>
+
+<p>"It's a bitter day, friends, and some of you are old; perhaps it might
+be wise to cover your heads before I begin to pray."</p>
+
+<p>Lord Kilspindie, standing erect and grey-headed between the two old men,
+replied:</p>
+
+<p>"We thank you, Dr. Davidson, for your thoughtfulness; but he endured
+many a storm in our service, and we are not afraid of a few minutes'
+cold at his funeral."</p>
+
+<p>A look flashed round the stern faces, and was reflected from the
+minister, who seemed to stand higher.</p>
+
+<p>His prayer, we noticed with critical appreciation, was composed for the
+occasion, and the first part was a thanksgiving to God for the life work
+of our doctor, wherein each clause was a reference to his services and
+sacrifices. No one moved or said Amen&mdash;it had been strange with us&mdash;but
+when every man had heard the gratitude of his dumb heart offered to
+heaven, there was a great sigh.</p>
+
+<p>After which the minister prayed that we might have grace to live as this
+man had done from youth to old age, not for himself, but for others,
+and that we might be followed to our grave by somewhat of "that love
+wherewith we mourn this day Thy servant departed." Again the same sigh,
+and the minister said Amen. The "wricht" stood in the doorway without
+speaking, and four stalwart men came forward. They were the volunteers
+that would lift the coffin and carry it for the first stage. One was
+Tammas, Annie Mitchell's man; and another was Saunders Baxter, for whose
+life MacLure had his great fight with death; and the third was the Glen
+Urtach shepherd for whose wife's sake MacLure suffered a broken leg and
+three fractured ribs in a drift; and the fourth, a Dunleith man, had his
+own reasons of remembrance.</p>
+
+<p>"He's far lichter than ye wud expeck for sae big a man&mdash;there wesna
+muckle left o' him, ye see&mdash;but the road is heavy, and a'il change ye
+aifter the first half mile."</p>
+
+<p>"Ye needna tribble yersel, wricht," said the man from Glen Urtach;
+"the'll be nae change in the cairryin' the day," and Tammas was thankful
+some one had saved him speaking.</p>
+
+<p>Surely no funeral is like unto that of a doctor for pathos, and a
+peculiar sadness fell on that company as his body was carried out who
+for nearly half a century had been their help in sickness, and had
+beaten back death time after time from their door. Death after all
+was victor, for the man that had saved them had not been able to save
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>As the coffin passed the stable door a horse nieghed within, and every
+man looked at his neighbour. It was his old mare crying to her master.</p>
+
+<p>Jamie slipped into the stable, and went up into the stall.</p>
+
+<p>"Puir lass, ye're no gaen' wi' him the day, an' ye 'ill never see him
+again; ye've hed yir last ride thegither, an' ye were true tae the end."</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="164"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/164.png"><img alt="164.jpg (102K)" src="images/164.jpg" height="709" width="473"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>After the funeral Drumsheugh came himself for Jess, and took her to his
+farm. Saunders made a bed for her with soft, dry straw, and prepared for
+her supper such things as horses love. Jess would neither take food nor
+rest, but moved uneasily in her stall, and seemed to be waiting for some
+one that never came. No man knows what a horse or a dog understands and
+feels, for God hath not given them our speech. If any footstep was heard
+in the courtyard, she began to neigh, and was always looking round as
+the door opened. But nothing would tempt her to eat, and in the
+night-time Drumsheugh heard her crying as if she expected to be taken out for
+some sudden journey. The Kildrummie veterinary came to see her, and said
+that nothing could be done when it happened after this fashion with an
+old horse.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="165"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/165.png"><img alt="165.jpg (68K)" src="images/165.jpg" height="378" width="448"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"A've seen it aince afore," he said. "Gin she were a Christian instead
+o' a horse, ye micht say she wes dying o' a broken hert."</p>
+
+<p>He recommended that she should be shot to end her misery, but no man
+could be found in the Glen to do the deed and Jess relieved them of the
+trouble. When Drumsheugh went to the stable on Monday morning, a week
+after Dr. MacLure fell on sleep, Jess was resting at last, but her eyes
+were open and her face turned to the door.</p>
+
+<p>"She wes a' the wife he hed," said Jamie, as he rejoined the procession,
+"an' they luved ane anither weel."</p>
+
+<p>The black thread wound itself along the whiteness of the Glen, the
+coffin first, with his lordship and Drumsheugh behind, and the others as
+they pleased, but in closer ranks than usual, because the snow on either
+side was deep, and because this was not as other funerals. They could
+see the women standing at the door of every house on the hillside, and
+weeping, for each family had some good reason in forty years to remember
+MacLure. When Bell Baxter saw Saunders alive, and the coffin of the
+doctor that saved him on her man's shoulder, she bowed her head on the
+dyke, and the bairns in the village made such a wail for him they loved
+that the men nearly disgraced themselves.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>There was only one drift on the road between his cottage and the
+kirkyard, and it had been cut early that morning. Before daybreak
+Saunders had roused the lads in the bothy, and they had set to work by
+the light of lanterns with such good will that, when Drumsheugh came
+down to engineer a circuit for the funeral, there was a fair passage,
+with walls of snow twelve feet high on either side.</p>
+
+
+<a name="168"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/168.png"><img alt="168.jpg (60K)" src="images/168.jpg" height="348" width="480"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"Man, Saunders," he said, "this wes a kind thocht, and rael weel dune."</p>
+
+<p>But Saunders' only reply was this:  "Mony a time he's hed tae gang
+round; he micht as weel hae an open road for his last traivel."</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="169"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/169.png"><img alt="169.jpg (120K)" src="images/169.jpg" height="721" width="516"></a>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>When the coffin was laid down at the mouth of the grave, the only
+blackness in the white kirkyard, Tammas Mitchell did the most beautiful
+thing in all his life. He knelt down and carefully wiped off the snow
+the wind had blown upon the coffin, and which had covered the name,
+and when he had done this he disappeared behind the others, so that
+Drumsheugh could hardly find him to take a cord. For these were the
+eight that buried Dr. MacLure&mdash;Lord Kilspindie at the head as landlord
+and Drumsheugh at his feet as his friend; the two ministers of the
+parish came first on the right and left; then Burnbrae and Hillocks of
+the farmers, and Saunders and Tammas for the plowmen. So the Glen he
+loved laid him to rest.</p>
+
+<p>When the bedrel had finished his work and the turf had been spread, Lord
+Kilspindie spoke:</p>
+
+<p>"Friends of Drumtochty, it would not be right that we should part in
+silence and no man say what is in every heart. We have buried the
+remains of one that served this Glen with a devotion that has known no
+reserve, and a kindliness that never failed, for more than forty years.
+I have seen many brave men in my day, but no man in the trenches of
+Sebastopol carried himself more knightly than William MacLure. You will
+never have heard from his lips what I may tell you to-day, that my
+father secured for him a valuable post in his younger days, and he
+preferred to work among his own people; and I wished to do many things
+for him when he was old, but he would have nothing for himself. He will
+never be forgotten while one of us lives, and I pray that all doctors
+everywhere may share his spirit. If it be your pleasure, I shall erect
+a cross above his grave, and shall ask my old friend and companion Dr.
+Davidson, your minister, to choose the text to be inscribed."</p>
+
+<p>"We thank you, Lord Kilspindie," said the doctor, "for your presence
+with us in our sorrow and your tribute to the memory of William MacLure,
+and I choose this for his text:</p>
+
+<center>
+<table summary="poem">
+<tr><td>
+<p>           "'Greater love hath no man than this,<br>
+           that a man lay down his life for his friends.'"</p>
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+
+<p>Milton was, at that time, held in the bonds of a very bitter theology,
+and his indignation was stirred by this unqualified eulogium.</p>
+
+<p>"No doubt Dr. MacLure hed mony natural virtues, an' he did his wark
+weel, but it wes a peety he didna mak mair profession o' releegion."</p>
+
+<p>"When William MacLure appears before the Judge, Milton," said Lachlan
+Campbell, who that day spoke his last words in public, and they were in
+defence of charity, "He will not be asking him about his professions,
+for the doctor's judgment hass been ready long ago; and it iss a good
+judgment, and you and I will be happy men if we get the like of it.</p>
+
+<p>"It is written in the Gospel, but it iss William MacLure that will not
+be expecting it."</p>
+
+<p>"What is't Lachlan?" asked Jamie Soutar eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>The old man, now very feeble, stood in the middle of the road, and his
+face, once so hard, was softened into a winsome tenderness.</p>
+<center>
+<table summary="poem">
+<tr><td>
+<p>              "'Come, ye blessed of My Father <br>
+              ... I was sick and ye visited Me.'"</p>
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+				</center>
+
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="174"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="images/174.png"><img alt="174.jpg (63K)" src="images/174.jpg" height="468" width="521"></a>
+</center>
+
+
+<br><br>
+
+
+
+
+
+<center>
+<table summary="" cellPadding=4 border=3>
+<tr><td>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="p4.htm">Previous Part</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+</td><td>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="9320-h.htm">Main Index</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+ </td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+
+
+</body>
+</html>
+