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diff --git a/9320.txt b/9320.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fba81a8 --- /dev/null +++ b/9320.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2633 @@ +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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL, *** + +***** This file should be named 9320.txt or 9320.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/9/3/2/9320/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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